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Chapter Text

Disgust

“But Mrs Whimple-”

“Not another word!” the furious woman hissed, raising her hand as though to strike. The young woman in front of her flinched, and she lowered her hand with a snide, terse smile. “I kept you on longer than I should have. My bleeding heart, you know. But enough of that. Get off my property!”

She slammed the door then watched through the glass as the plain, dull, dark haired girl limped out into the rain. Good riddance to bad rubbish, she told herself. That strange Prince woman can spread her legs in someone else’s house! The nerve!

Disapproval

“Sorry. No room.”

“Nope.”

“Try down the lane.”

“Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.”

It was a repeated mantra as she worked her way down the narrow streets of the village. Most of the time the denials were gentle, as though the speaker truly was sorry. A few made suggestions and compromises in return for a room, then turned her away with curses when she refused. Some didn’t bother answering the door at all.

And then there was only one house left. His house. Eileen took a deep breath before knocking. The door swung open sharply.

“What d’you want here?”

“Hello, Mrs. Snape.”

Not “Normal”

The kitchen was quiet, both in sound and simplicity. As clean as it could be, given the general state of the town outside and the people within. A broken vase held a single flower, long since dried but its colour staying strong under the cobwebs. In a way, it reminded Eileen of the woman before her. Mrs Snape had obviously been beaten down by her life but her spine was strong as steel and her eyes sharp as she glared at Eileen.

“Are you serious?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“Completely,” Eileen replied. “There’s nowhere else for me to go.”

Tainted

“And for good reason!” Mrs Snape roared, slamming her hands down on the table. “You are a whore! A trollop! You’ll drag my Tobias into the gutter with you!”

“In my defence, Mrs Snape,” Eileen said, rising to her full height to glare down at the woman, “it was not my idea to have a knee-trembler against the pub wall.”

“Are you suggesting-”

“Suggesting? Ha! Your son knows what he did to me. The least he can do is provide me a roof while I grow his spawn.”

“You’re-”

Eileen swept aside her coat to show her swelling abdomen.

“Yes.”

Jealous

In the end, it was settled. The Snapes would provide a home for Eileen until she gave birth. If the child turned out to be someone else’s, she would be tossed out on her ear. In the meantime, she was expected to stay in her room and only venture out to use the outhouse and accept her supper plate.

She tried not to bristle under the restrictions. They weren’t much different than what her own parents had expected from her before she’d left.

She took to watching out the window, ignoring her tears as people lived their lives below her.

Avoidance

Weeks passed. Her belly grew and the seasons slowly changed, though there were no trees to give indication. The weather remained bad but grew steadily colder, adding chilblains to its long list of miseries.

Eileen continued to watch through her window but her restlessness grew. She’d heard Tobias in the house, his footsteps confident on the stairs and his voice low. He and his mother had fought the first night she’d slept there, but Eileen couldn’t hear them after Mrs Snape hissed something about “reputation”. 

But Tobias was avoiding her and that wouldn’t do at all. They needed to talk.

Aversion

The next morning she opened her door just as he opened his. They paused on their respective thresholds, tension building between them. In the early morning sun, his hair was brushed with gold. His shoulders were broad and she remembered how strong he had been when he’d held her. Warmth trickled down her spine.

“What do you want?” he asked. She licked her lips.

“To talk? About us or the babe. I wish-”

He sneered, crossed his arms. “ I wish I’d never met you, Eileen.”

The warmth vanished and Eileen crumpled to the floor in a heap, clutching her side.

Awful 

“She needs a doctor.”

“She’s faking, Mum. She just wants attention.”

“Tobias.”

A pause, then a sigh.

“I’m sorry, Mum. I just don’t trust her. The timing…”

“Pregnant women are very delicate, son. Any significant trauma, emotional or physical, can-”

“I didn’t touch her!”

“...Hmm. What did you say, then?”

“...”

“That’s what I thought.” A chair scraped across the floor and fabric rustled. When Mrs Snape spoke again, her voice was muffled. “You don’t have to love her, son. Maybe you will someday-”

“Not bloody likely.”

“But until then, at least respect her.”

“Respect a whore?!” 

“No, respect your wife.”

Nauseous 

Eileen was struggling to sit up when Mrs Snape entered her room.

“You need to rest.”

“I need to leave. I- ohh.” The room spun around her and she barely reached the chamberpot before heaving. Mrs Snape tutted behind her.

“You’ve gone too long without eating. Tobias did the same to me. I’ll get you some breakfast.”

“I’m still leaving.”

On the threshold, Mrs Snape paused. “Tobias and I made a deal, Eileen. If the baby is his, you will be married. Immediately.”

Horror flooded through Eileen and she bent over the chamberpot again.

“I’ll get you some ginger, dear.”

Uncomfortable 

The tension in the house grew as her belly did. Tobias pulled further and further away but his mother was an odd soul and did the opposite. She hovered, fluffing Eileen’s pillows and bringing broths at all hours of the day and night. It made her want to scream.

The only time she had to herself was when she escaped to the outhouse. She leaned against the wall and sighed.

“There’s still hope, you know,” Tobias said from around the corner. “If it’s a girl, you’ll be allowed to leave.”

“And if it’s a boy?”

“Mum will keep you both.”

Self-conscious 

Eileen’s pains started just after dawn. For hours she panted quietly to herself, desperate for… something? To not let Mrs. Snape– “Call me Agatha, dear”– know? To not alert Tobias? So she wouldn’t have to see her fear, disgust, and disappointment reflected in his eyes? 

But eventually Agatha knocked on her door.

“You missed breakfast, dear. Are you– oh.” She smiled widely, a mirror of Tobias’ and Eileen closed her eyes against the painful memories. Agatha called down, “Tobias! Boil some water and fetch the clean cloths! It’s time.”

Eileen held back tears– of fear, of hope? She didn’t know.

Guilty

“Please, please, please,” Eileen whispered. Behind her, Tobias hummed in agreement.

Agatha stood, the squalling infant in her arms. Long moments passed as she looked at the baby, then she beamed, tapping his nose.

“There’s no doubt, is there?” Agatha laughed. “We’ll name you Severus, after the patron saint of the mill.”

Tobias sighed and slid out from under Eileen. “I’ll fetch Jimmy. He was ordained last year and should be discrete.”

“I’ll wash this beautiful little boy up.” Agatha and Tobias both left.

And Eileen was alone in the cold dark room, blood flowing as freely as her tears.

Judgemental  

Months passed in a blur. Though Eileen was allowed to stay, provided she pretended her marriage was without tarnish or sin, it became quite clear that her role was simply Vessel to the Child. Agatha took care of everything else, Eileen’s efforts being found too lacking to be trusted. She was only allowed to feed Severus, and even that was met with raised eyebrows and snide comments.

Agatha was The Matriarch and that was that. But as the months became three years, Eileen wondered if she could make a new start with Tobias.

She was ready to be The Wife.

Embarrassed 

She bided her time, waiting until one night when Agatha was out at one of her many clubs. Tobias finished his drink and shoved back from the table.

“I’m going out,” he announced. Eileen stood, clasping her hands in front of her apron to hide their shaking. 

“Where are you going?”

Tobias sneered. “Out.”

“When will you be back?”

“When I’m back.” Tobias paused. “Why?”

“I thought we might… talk? About us? About our marriage?”

“Hot under the collar, are you? Jesus Christ, Eileen.” He rolled his eyes. “For my mother’s sake, you have my name. Be content with it.”

Humiliated 

Hours later, Eileen woke to a strange sound. Rhythmic. Soft. Almost like–

A woman groaned and Eileen blushed straight to her roots, her suspicions confirmed. She wiggled out from under her son’s blanket– he’d insisted she stay until he fell asleep and she must have dozed off waiting for him– and peeked out his window.

Her husband held the woman up with her back pressed against the wall and her ankles crossed around his waist. He thrust into her deeper, grunted his completion.

“Whore,” he said but in the soft moonlight, it was a compliment.

Eileen nibbled her lip, contemplating.

Ashamed  

“Can I help you… Eileen?!” 

“Mrs Whimple?!”

The two women stared at each other, shock mirrored on their faces. Outside, the church bell rang and Mrs Whimple crossed herself automatically. Eileen copied her after an awkward moment.

“What can I do for you, Miss Prince?”

“It’s Mrs Snape now, actually.”

“I know.” The words hit Eileen like physical blows and she gasped reflexively.

“I need advice from the priest. Tobias trusts him and–”

“I’m afraid Father Davis is busy now.”

“Later, then?”

“He’ll be busy.”

“Mrs Whimple, please. I need help.”

“Fallen women don’t deserve it. Good day, Miss Prince.”

Not Good Enough 

Eileen tapped the colour gently onto her lip, peering carefully into the mirror. Her makeup was old and crumbling, but it did its job and erased years from her face.

“Won’t he be surprised?” she smiled to herself. The door opened and Tobias’ heavy steps started up the stairs. She took a deep breath and stepped out.

“Tobias?”

He paused, his eyes trying to focus through the alcohol to focus on her face. “You look like a whore.”

Eileen gulped, confidence fleeing. “You like whores.”

Tobias snorted. “Cheap ones. You cost me everything.”

“Tob–”

“Enough. Go wash your face, Eileen.”

Aversion 

From then on, Eileen maintained her distance from her husband, a minimum of two feet. Never again did she attempt to reach for him, never made another overture or spared a compliment. 

In the mornings, she made his coffee and packed his lunch, leaving both sitting on the table. He dropped his work clothes in a pile by the back door when he came home. They sat at opposite ends of the table as they ate, he with his newspaper, she teaching Severus a new word or phrase. 

Like two ships in a harbour, they worked together to stay apart.

Shame 

Most nights found Eileen at her window, trying to peer through the gloom that hovered over the small, dirty little town she now called home. On rare occasions, a cool wind would chase the river fog and coal dust away and she could see constellations.

Those nights, she remembered happier years with friends on a tall tower while a doddering wizard explained how to prophesize with the stars. She remembered telling her fortune– pain and fear and heartache.

She’d vowed that she’d escape her fate.

On those nights she cried, her wedding ring a cold reminder that Fate always won.

Chapter Text

Fear 

Severus breathed quietly, slowly, just like his mother had taught him. He reached deep inside himself, trying to find the spark she’d told him about.

“Magic is your ally,” she’d told him once, holding a long stick– wand– and swishing it this way and that. “It can do anything, even make someone invisible.”

“Please,” Severus whispered. “Please, please, please.”

Suddenly, he felt a spark! Warm against his palm! His eyes flew open and he screamed– his hand was on fire! He flailed, catching his hand against one of the barrels. It caught fire instantly, curling the paper labelled “Flour”.

Shite .

Insignificant  

He’d always known his father was a large man. How could he not when his very presence filled their house? He’d seen his Da’s rippling muscles when he washed after a long day at the mill. He was big and loud and commanding. His voice called attention and his smile left broken hearts no matter where he went.

Despite all that, Severus had never considered himself small. He was quieter than Da, yes, but that didn’t make him small . He was Tobias Snape’s son!

But as Da carried his bandaged body home, Severus realised just how small he truly was.

Imposter Syndrome  

“It’s like I don’t belong here,” Severus whispered. “I don’t like football. I don’t like cursing. Well, not much. I don’t like chasing cats.”

“Prrp?” the kitten playing with his shoelaces chirruped. Severus snorted.

“That hardly counted. You were about to fall into the river. Anyone would have done the same.” The kitten pounced suddenly, startling a bitter laugh from the youth.

“I know your game,” he declared. “You only like me because there’s chicken in my pocket.”

He fished out a handful and tried not to judge when the cat launched itself at the scraps.

“Someday I’ll get out.”

Busy  

The tree in the corner was absolutely bursting with baubles and colourful paper chains. Underneath, wrapped presents sat, their cheerful bows tempting his fingers. Surely Mum wouldn’t notice if he just–

“I can see you, Severus,” Mum said. Severus snatched back his hand as though burnt.

Da swept in, his cheeks red from the cold and good humour. He lifted Severus in a crushing hug, but his mood soured when he saw the presents.

“I said one present,” he said sotto voce to Mum. 

“I only bought one. The rest are my old school things.”

“...Why?”

“He got his letter!”

Overwhelmed  

Severus crouched on the stair landing, listening to his parents’ discussion in the kitchen.

“Magic?!” Da sputtered.

“Magic,” Mum said, her voice happier than he’d ever heard. She twirled her long black wand and suddenly six more baubles appeared on the table.

“Witch!” 

“Yes, actually. Calm down, Tobias. Magic is just a tool.”

“What can it do?”

“Summon things, like these baubles. Duplicate things–”

“Like money?”

“Err, no. Currency is protected by–”

“What damned good is it, then?! Money is the only bloody thing that matters in this world, and those who have it or don’t.”

“...What are you saying?”

Threatened  

“What money? I don’t know anything about any money–” Mum’s words cut off under a slap. A second man leered, tugging at the edge of her apron. 

“Tobias owes a lot. Maybe we’ll take it out of you, hey?” 

“No! Please!”

Suddenly Da was there, his fists flying. 

The fight lasted barely a moment before Da tossed the men into the street. They caught themselves, helping each other up and running away.

“Tell Curview there’s more of that if he sniffs around here again, you hear me?” he shouted after them. Then he whirled on Mum. “Get in the house.”

Terrified  

“Severus, come in here!” Da called. Severus looked up from his mum’s school books, dropping the stick he’d been practising with. Ma was already in the parlour, a bruise on her cheek, but it didn’t detract from her smile as she held her hands out in front of a roaring coal flame.

“Oh Tobias, this is wonderful! What’s the occasion?”

Da sat on the floor, pulling Mum down with him and patting the floor next to him for Severus. 

Then he pulled out Mum’s wand. Severus felt ice drip down his back.

“This didn’t protect you. I did. Remember that.”

Surprised  

He ran, his eyes and his throat full of tears. Severus didn’t know how long he ran or even where he was, but he couldn’t go home. The image of the fire licking along Mum’s wand– her stricken face– He hadn’t heard her scream with his ears so much as his soul.

No, he couldn’t go home. Maybe not ever. Maybe this was the sign that he should run away. Maybe–

He ran nose first into a tree, knocking himself to the ground. Smarting, he wiped his eyes clear–

Only to see a girl fly through the air gracefully. 

Magically.

Taken Advantage Of 

“Right, but what is Hogwarts?” Lily asked. 

“The most wonderful place in the world!” Severus enthused, throwing his arms out wide and not caring for once that he was wearing his mum’s old blouse. “It’s all we have until you stop growing,” she’d told him, and he’d taken to wearing his father’s overcoat to hide it. But now his new friend made him feel confident, like nothing mattered but his knowledge. Not his clothes, his background, where he lived.

All that mattered is that Severus had a friend now. And she wanted to know everything.

So he’d tell her everything.

Uncontrollable  

“And then she said– she said–” Lily cut off with a sob, tears spurting from her eyes. Severus patted her shoulder, not sure how to help.

“Ohhhhhh, it’s too awful to repeat, Severus!” Lily finally said, wiping her eyes on her sleeves. “It’s not like I meant to give her teacup teeth, but the way Tuney was going on, you’d think I’d set dogs on her!”

“But you hate dogs,” Severus replied indignantly.

“She knows that!” Lily sobbed. “She called me a bitch.”

Severus gasped, then he grinned. “I can teach you some hexes so you can get her back.”

Addicted  

Severus watched Lily walk away, a spring in her step and a grin on her face. She’d taken to casting hexes like a duck to water and Severus felt a welling of pride– and pain. Lily has insisted on having a life target for her hexes– “To practise my aim, Severus!”– and his arse had taken several direct hits. Even after he’d asked Lily to stop. She’d claimed the last one was an accident, but there was a glitter in her eyes that reminded him of Duncan Curview…

But that just meant Lily was talented and a good student.

…Right?

Worried  

“Severus, did you perform magic in front of a Muggle?” Mum asked. Severus paused as he entered the house, shock quickly turning to anger.

“Did Tuney tattle?!”

“No, I got a letter from the Ministry.” Mum sighed. “There will be consequences if you do it again.”

Severus scuffed the dirt with his toe. “I didn’t mean to drop a branch on her, Mum! Tuney was saying awful things and I–”

“Who is Tuney?”

“Lily’s sister. Muggle. But Lily’s a witch, Mum! She’s going to Hogwarts with me!” Severus ran up to his room, not seeing Mum watch him with concern.

Anxious  

Severus could barely keep up with his mother as she wove through the crowd. She clutched his ticket with one hand and his wrist with the other, her thin fingers leaving red marks on his pale skin. He pulled a trolley along behind him, his sole trunk hardly large enough to be worth the bother.

Severus was paler than usual but suddenly his mum was practically giddy. 

“Here it is,” she whispered, caressing a wall. Severus glanced around to see if anyone noticed.

“Er, Mum… What are you doing?”

Mum smiled. “Saving you.”

Then she shoved him through the wall.

Insecure  

Hogwarts was incredible and a part of Severus wanted to shout aloud how happy he was to be at his mother’s alma mater, but… 

Lily had snubbed him. She’d waved to him on the train but then someone had whispered in her ear and she’d turned away. She hadn’t looked at him since. Granted, Gryffindor’s table was on the other side of the Great Hall, but still. They were friends. Weren’t they?

He waited outside the doors for her to come out. “Lily!”

She jumped and turned with a snarl.

“What do you want , Severus?”

“This snake bothering you, Evans?”

Unsafe  

The speaker was a skinny boy with an untamed mop of black hair. He was flanked by three other boys, all of whom had their arms crossed and chins stuck out stubbornly. The tallest one seemed downright murderous, as though Severus’ very existence offended him.

Severus hadn’t put up with the bullies in his hometown and he wasn’t about to start now, so he matched their stance and sneered, “I’m talking to my friend.”

“Slytherins don’t have friends,” the skinny boy sneered back. “They only have accomplices.”

“Good one, James,” the small mousey boy snickered.

“Watch yourself, snake. Or else.”

Fragile  

His mother’s advice was cold in his heart, unsoothing and harsh– “If you can’t eradicate your weakness, at least don’t cry where anyone can see you.”

Severus had held his head high through the conversation with Potter and his gang, through the confusing and mildly frightening tour of Slytherin’s common room– under the Lake? Whose bright idea was that?!– and even through a long card game with the other First Years.

But in his too large bed with unfamiliar sounds around him, he was just an eleven year old boy on his own for the first time.

And he cried.

Vulnerable

“You must be Snape,” an unfamiliar voice said smoothly above him. Severus looked up from his textbook to see a young man leaning against the back of the sofa. Like a god, Lucius Malfoy commanded attention simply through his presence. His hair shone like a beacon and he was rarely without attendants of all genders. They hung on his every word, begging for his attention–

Attention that was now squarely on Severus. He gulped.

“Yes?”

Malfoy leaned forward. “This is a friendly warning, Snape. Gryffindors will always betray you in the end. Better to look to your own for allies.”

Fragility  

His first Herbology class was also his first class with Gryffindors and his first chance to see Lily since the Sorting. She was in her element, chatting with everyone, throwing her head back to laugh at a joke, flicking the ear of a boy who got too close to her. She was the sun circled by her adoring planets.

One planet was watching her with a far more possessive eye than Severus liked. Potter looked at Lily as though he was going to consume her. Use her. Leave her broken and–

The plant he was transplanting snapped in his fist.

Vulnerability 

Meal times were the worst. Though Lily didn’t always sit with her back to Severus, she very rarely looked at him. He knew because he spent most of the time willing her to look up. To acknowledge him. To be his friend again.

But while she rarely did, there were others who were more than happy to trade glare for glare. Namely Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew, though the last one… there was something about him that made his stomach turn. 

He could feel Malfoy’s eyes on him too– watching, calculating– and so his meals were a triangle of tension.

Sad  

Severus never got mail. It was a fact that didn’t bother him anymore halfway through his second year. And yet the owl was insistent, ruffling her feathers with irritation. Severus had a letter.

A letter lined in black and written in Father Davis’ handwriting. 

“Easy, Snape,” Malfoy said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Not here.”

The seventh year hauled him from the bench, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and leading him out of the Great Hall. “Never let them see you cry.”

“My mother used to say that, too.”

“A true Slytherin. We’ll mourn her memory with you.”

Lost  

Generally Severus kept to the dungeons when he wasn’t in class, surrounding himself with Slytherins. But in the weeks after his parents’ funerals– influenza took them both– he took to wandering Hogwarts late into the night. He liked these hours when no one was around and he didn’t have to pretend to be anything but what he was–

“Good evening, Mr. Snape. To what do I owe your company?”

Severus flinched. “Err, hello, Headmaster. I’m… lost?”

Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes pierced deep into his soul. “In a great many ways, I suspect. But perhaps we can find you again, young Severus.”

Purposeless  

“Sixty points for Slytherin!” a voice crowed. “We’ll beat Gryffindor yet!”

“Cheers for Severus! Hip hip–”

Severus ducked as his House cheered, his face on fire. He threw himself into his customary armchair, pulling a large book from his bag and burying his face in it. “Stupid. The lot of them.”

“Are you so much better?” Malfoy chuckled, nudging Severus’ shoulder. “Why not celebrate a triumph?”

“Because there’s no purpose! They’re just stupid points in a stupid rigged game.”

Malfoy seemed thoughtful, tapping his lip. “You’re looking for a purpose?”

Severus snorted. “Everyone should be.”

“I might have an idea.”

Lonely 

Malfoy didn’t explain what he meant, leaving Severus in his chair and returning to the cheering crowd. Though they were celebrating Severus’ triumph– pointing out a mistake in Potions class that would have caused an explosion; Slughorn had been generous in his praise and claimed he’d left the mistake to see who was paying attention, but stress pinched the corners of his eyes– no one seemed to notice that Severus was not among them.

Malfoy pulled away eventually to whisper with an older student who gestured at his arm. 

Severus wondered what it was like to have so many friends.

Isolated  

Severus watched the tall blond boy– no, man. He’d graduated and was planning on getting married next summer– walk away with his equally tall blond father. They laughed together and the elder Malfoy reached up to ruffle the younger’s hair. His sleeve pulled back, exposing a black skull and snake on his forearm. The same as on the piece of paper Lucius had passed Severus in a handshake.

The note held a single line: Ally with your own.

Severus wanted to throw it away. Burn it. Tear it. 

But he put it in his pocket instead. Slytherins never burned bridges.

Unmotivated

Though technically Severus owned the house he’d been born in and where his parents had died, he wasn’t legally old enough to live on his own yet, so he spent his summers with Father Davis and Mrs. Whimple in the guest quarters of the local church. Mrs. Whimple declared him a lazeabout, but he spent his summers learning.

From Mrs. Whimple, he learned how to observe, find weaknesses, and pierce the heart of a person with a well placed barb. From Father Davis, he learned patience, to use silence and speech to his best advantage, and to command a room.

Burnt Out

For the next two years, he was a model student. Always the first with an answer, the best grades, the smartest in the room. He was friendly with his fellow Slytherins, especially Avery and Mulciber. They’d been close to Malfoy before he’d graduated and were his eyes and ears now. And if they did Dark Magic… Well, Severus couldn’t risk his own skin fighting them, could he? Slytherins took care of their own.

But goodness, he was tired. Days spent cultivating alliances, nights following his tormentors to uncover their secrets. 

He was going to make a mistake. A big one.

Bored 

Severus burned with rage, embarrassment. Fear. Loss. Pain. Unbidden, his mind played over the day again. 

His eyes burning a hole into his test parchment, his mother’s voice shrieking in his head: “You have to make something of yourself!”

Taking a moment to rest under the tree.

Hearing Potter say he was bored. Ice running through his veins. 

Red hot rage at being flipped upside down. Exposed.

Lily.

Lily .

He’d said– He hadn’t meant– 

He had no friends now. No protection, no matter how thin Lily’s had been. He was alone.

He turned over the paper from Malfoy.

An ally.

Chapter Text

Numb  

Malfoy Manor was sumptuous, bedecked in black and green, the Dark Mark bright and silver. People had arrived for the Revel in dark robes, but they’d long been abandoned as heat rose in the large room. 

Severus stood in the darkest corner of the ballroom, his hood pulled as low over his face as possible, but it didn’t matter how obscured his vision was. He could hear cavorting couples. Screams of pain and pleasure. Blood and wine spilled on the floor. 

Red on black and silver and green.

Black and red on his pale forearm.

He’d made a grave mistake.

Tired  

It became something of a game for him over the last year of his schooling and the first as a full member of the Death Eaters– pretending to believe in the megalomaniac ravings of a madman, keeping his own thoughts quiet in his mind and off his face, working his way through the ranks. The more powerful he was, surely the safer he would be? People would leave him alone if he was at the left hand of Voldemort.

But the game took its toll, leaving him tired enough to not flinch hearing Lily Potter’s name from his Master’s lips.

Exhausted  

He stumbled to the top of the hill, his long Death Eater robes heavy in the rain and wrapping themselves around his feet. If he’d been a writer, he would have spared a bittersweet smile for the metaphor. But he was simply a potioneer who’d trusted in the wrong people. Who’d lost the love of his only friend. Who’d betrayed her time and time again.

White light shot through the air and Severus fell to his knees with a sob.

“Don’t kill me!” he cried.

“That was not my intention.” 

Relief, disappointment, guilt, exhaustion.

“What will you give me?”

“Anything.”

Loss  

Voldemort had been delighted at the idea of a spy in Hogwarts and pushed Severus to apply for Defence Against the Dark Arts, but Dumbledore had refused. 

“The curse. You understand of course, don’t you, Severus?”

Oh yes, he’d understood that he was a pawn being moved by both sides of a chess board and he had no real choice in his position. 

Part of him thrilled to see the castle again. The first place he’d felt safe. Surrounded by friends. But Hogwarts’ walls felt cold, intimidating, like the castle itself rejected him. 

At least he wouldn’t be staying long.

Heartbroken 

Severus clutched the Prophet , its pages full of celebration. Good tidings, cheers, and happiness. Voldemort was dead. Defeated by a baby! Shame about the parents, of course, but at least the evil was vanquished!

The image of Godric’s Hollow– their home still smouldering, an unsurvivable wreckage– 

His arm burned, the Dark Mark red and bloody under the dozens of scratches he’d carved into it. Desperate to remove his part in their deaths.

Blood ran with his tears, staining the house red.

Lily would want him to live, he knew, but not yet.

Tomorrow he would live. Today he would mourn.

Disappointed  

He slumped against the wall, wiping a hand over his face and letting out a low laugh. The day had been long, confusing, and… disappointing.

He’d woken. Alas.

The Headmaster had summoned him. Perhaps he was finally fired? 

But no, he’d been arrested instead, taken to Azkaban, and charged as a criminal. Severus had a brief hope that they’d toss him in a cell forever, but Dumbledore had been in the courtroom, scolding the Wizengamot and waving around the contract Severus had signed.

He was free. But…

“Voldemort will return. But with you at my side, we’ll have a chance.”

Depressed  

His life became a whirlwind of graded papers, late night prowls, and the most asinine creatures that he was expected to somehow educate despite their best efforts. On occasion, there was a brilliant mind or two to ease his irritation, but for the most part, he wondered how any of them managed to stand upright, given the amount of shite they filled their head with.

Every day was the same. Wake, yell, sleep. Repeat.

Sometimes he was grateful for the monotony– those days when his head felt unmoored in reality. But sometimes he paced his cage and howled for freedom.

Left Out  

Like he had with the Death Eaters so long ago, Severus started playing a game with himself. How long could he keep to the shadows without being noticed? His record, calculated either by how long it took until someone saw him or some realised he was missing, was seventeen days.He told himself it didn’t bother him. This talent to be unobtrusive was obviously why Dumbledore had chosen him for a spy originally.

Some days he even believed himself.

But some days he had to ignore the sad, battered child in his soul who cried out to just be loved.

Hurt

“I’m sorry, Severus, but this is where you’re needed now.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled cold and brittle. “Besides, who else would have you, a known Death Eater–”

“Former.”

“The outside world doesn’t forgive as easily as I do. You know that, dear boy.” Dumbledore steepled his fingers, resting his chin on the tips. “My decision is final. I do not accept your resignation. In here, you are safe under my protection and reputation.”

No one noticed him leave Dumbledore’s office. Slip through the hallways like a ghost. 

Punch the wall, leaving a streak of blood on his knuckles and the stone.

Isolation  

“Sybil, what do you predict for our day out?”

“My inner eye tells me that there will be rain and misery.”

“Ah well, we should invite Severus then, shouldn’t we? He’ll bring the misery!”

Severus rolled his eyes minutely from his office where he was grading First Years’ papers. The same old bullshite and tomfoolery, both the students and his fellow staff members. He was used to their derision–

“Well… Do you think Severus would like to join us?”

Flitwick laughed. “He would never consider it. Too interested in skulking.”

The derision didn’t hurt anymore, but the hope still burned.

Grief 

“Severus, we must plan.”

“Severus, what do we do?”

“Severus–”

“Severus–”

Outwardly he was the picture of calm, his traditional sneer firmly in place as he assured staff, student, and parent alike that there was no cause for alarm. That Dumbledore had foreseen these events years ago. That all would be well.

Inside, he was screaming.

The Dark Lord. Voldemort. Tom, Severus had called him once or twice when his destiny seemed on the rise.

He was back.

How? Why?! 

Was Lily’s sacrifice in vain after all?

Severus let himself slide to the floor of his chambers with a keen.

Anger  

“You will have to return to him, Severus.”

“WHY?!” Severus roared, throwing a delicate piece of metal against the wall. It snapped but he was beyond caring, already grabbing another. “I gave everything I had to him, then I lost it all. I gave everything I had to you but you won’t let me go. Why should I give more to either of you? Go to hell!”

He threw more baubles before collapsing to the floor, his chest heaving with sobs. 

Dumbledore placed his hand gently on Severus’ shoulder.

“I know, dear boy. But it’s the right thing to do.”

Tense

“Why did you want to meet here?” Severus asked, sliding the Muggle key into the lock of his childhood home. The rusted metal protested but eventually allowed the two men entrance to the boarded up two up, two down.

Lucius threw himself onto a sofa, not complaining at the dust that rose around him. 

“It’s bad, Severus,” Lucius said, his face more serious than Severus had ever seen.

“What’s wrong?”

“ He’s wrong! He… He came back wrong. Something about his Undeath has changed him. Severus, I’m scared. For my family. My son.”

A flash of green eyes.

“I’ll protect him.”

Hateful  

Though he’d never liked the stifling mask that insisted on squashing his nose despite the numerous cushioning charms he’s cast, tonight Severus was grateful for it. No one could see the hate behind his glaring eyes. The rage in his gritted teeth. The fury barely contained behind a thin veil of civility.

Voldemort was just as Lucius had described, his form twisted and marred by death. He’d once been handsome, drawing a following through charm as much as malice. But now he was something else entirely and he ruled by fear and Avada. 

Severus would see his end this time.

Aggressive

Voldemort’s followers were not the cohesive cohorts he’d once joined. Though many of the old guard had returned, time had not been gentle to them. Several had gone mad and these became the Dark Lord’s closest companions, whispering to him and each other about conspiracies and secrets. 

Thankfully he’d had his fair share of bullies and highly emotional people over the years, so navigating the sticky and complex intricacies of the Dark Lord’s inner circle often required little more than his students did. An imperious eyebrow. A sneer. A sharp barb coated in velvet.

He listened. He learned. He planned.

Violent  

As the war continued, Voldemort lost even the semblance of sanity. He was unpredictable, volatile, prone to rages and tantrums. Lucius tried to discreetly send his family away– “An extended holiday, my Lord. They will return to celebrate your inevitable victory!”– but Voldemort had seen through Lucius’ deceit and he had been thoroughly punished. Severus had spooned the healing potions into Lucius’ mouth, had gently pulled away the sodden shirt, and cleaned Lucius’ wounds.

There was a distinct scent among the blood, the sweat, the grave damp that seemed to permeate the very stones of Malfoy Manor–

Severus smelled fear.

Mad

“I have a problem, Severus.” Voldemort’s voice was softer than he’d ever heard it. Calm. Collected. Far removed from his mad ravings and unpredictable moods of the last year. And that scared him more than anything. Voldemort had a plan.

“My Lord?”

“Why doesn’t it work for me, Severus?”

Ah. So he’d figured out that the Elder Wand did not accept him as its master. Which meant his time was up. Severus found himself feeling… relieved? His life had been in service to one person or another, so the thought of being released was… thrilling.

He was ready to die.

Chapter Text

Furious  

He woke.

He lived.

He raged. 

He swore at everyone– the Healers, the reporters who barged in hoping to interview “the hero of Hogwarts!”, and even Minerva got an earful, which she parried and returned with just as much anger. Somehow, her rage at Severus and Dumbledore, whose portrait had confirmed the memories Harry had watched, made Severus feel better.

Minerva had brought with her a bundle of parchment. His resignation as Headmaster. He’d never signed a paper so quickly.

“You can still teach,” Minerva assured him, only mildly surprised when he burst out laughing.

“Over my dead body. Literally.”

Frustrated

“And why did you leave your previous job?” the manager asked. The man had hardly looked up from his parchment, scribbling copious amounts of notes. Severus didn’t bother trying to read them. He was out of the spy game. He just… needed to find something else.

He hadn’t wanted to work for the Ministry, but unfortunately no one else seemed to be hiring. He’d taken to using a fake name just to get interviews, but as soon as anyone saw his face, doors closed.

“Two bad managers,” Severus replied.

“Yes, I’ve read the expose on Dumbledore.”

“I don’t–”

“You’re hired.”

Irritated  

The years had passed in a blur– nearly ten of them since the final battle– and Severus was finally settled into his new life. His job was, perhaps, boring and unworthy of his attention. His manager was a micromanaging pain in his arse, but they’d reached an understanding that so long as Severus finished his work on time, the manager would leave him alone.

Which left the question why he was suddenly standing in Severus’ office.

“Good news!” he said with a large grin.

“I doubt that,” Severus sneered. 

“Don’t be like that. You’ll love your new partner.”

“My what?”

Armoured Up 

Severus hadn’t worn his teacher’s robes in ten years, but he found himself longing for the threatening swirl around his legs as he stalked out of the meeting room.

Of fucking course Granger was his partner. No longer the girl he’d known, her annoying ego had smoothed itself into a quiet confidence the woman she was now wore well. She’d offered her hand without a comment or sly remark about his past. Had shaken his firmly, not trying to crush him. 

She’d simply said, “I look forward to working with you.”

Hermione Granger was a beautiful threat to his peace.

Defensive

He fought her over everything. From the way she took her tea to how she filled out reports, nothing was safe from his sharp corrections. But she met him every time with humour and snappy quips of her own. And sometimes she was right, damn her. She pointed out deficiencies in his filing system, a misspelt word on a report, and the fact that he took far more sugar in his tea.

“Why?” he finally asked. “Why are you like this?”

Her reply was instant, as though it was obvious. “I like you, Severus. You keep me on my toes.”

Resentful  

He watched from the shadows as his partner laughed with her friends. What a pretty picture they made, he sneered to himself. The Golden Trio reunited and joyous. Light played around them and people smiled to see them. 

It made him sick. 

Look at them, able to live and laugh and move on from the war, while he was ignored, ridiculed, still paying the price for his past mistakes. 

He growled as Weasley cracked a joke that made Hermione howl with laughter. Severus could never do that. There was no point in trying.

He would always be too dark.

Always.

Envious 

“Something wrong?”

Hermione was standing next to his desk, holding two steaming mugs of coffee. Hers was full of cream and sugar, an “unfortunate side effect of having two dentist parents”, whereas his was as dark as his eyes. 

Severus snarled. “I’m fine.”

“I see,” Hermione said, her eyes narrowing. “You know, Severus, if you wanted to join us, you’d be more than welcome. You don’t have to wallow in your own jealousy. Merlin knows why I love you.”

“I’m not jealous , thank you and–” Shock spread through Severus’ system. “What?”

“Nothing. I didn’t say any– Here’s your coffee. Bye.”

Sceptical  

Severus watched her scurry away– where she was going, he didn’t know, given that her desk was next to his– and he pondered.

What she’d said… Hermione didn’t seem one for practical jokes, despite her close relationship with various Weasleys. But maybe? She couldn’t possibly have been sincere. Of course not. That would be utterly ridiculous and while there were many words he could use to describe Hermione, “ridiculous” wasn’t among them. No, the obvious conclusion was…

But that wasn’t possible. She couldn’t fancy him. He was far too old for her. Too ugly. Too dark. 

And yet… hope burned.

Suspicious  

Severus was still pondering the conversation several hours later. He’d fallen into his work but it was mindless, dull, and left plenty of space in his brain to examine the possibilities from all angles. 

He was just mulling over an idea involving alien abduction when he heard Hermione’s voice around the corner, tinged with irritation.

“Mr. Malfoy, I assure you–”

“Oh no, Miss Granger, allow me to assure you–”

Severus didn’t realise he was moving until he stepped face to face with his old friend.

“Lucius,” he said with a nod. “You’re looking well.”

“Severus, my old friend! Such company–”

Protective  

“What are you doing here?” Severus interrupted. Lucius smiled, offering a hand to Hermione.

“I was just telling our Miss Granger–”

Severus slid smoothly in the way, blocking Lucius’ hand. “Yes, so I heard. Unfortunately, Miss Granger has a lot of work to finish. You understand, of course.”

Lucius’ eyes flicked to Hermione and back before he smiled. “Of course, of course. I was about to ask her to bring me to your desk. I assume you haven’t forgotten our lunch meeting?”

“I had not. I will meet you in the Atrium in five minutes.”

Lucius smirked. “As you wish.”

Loyal

Severus and Hermione silently watched Lucius walk away before Hermione sighed.

“I forgot how irritating he can be. He was a pain in my arse when I worked for Kingsley.”

“Did he upset you?” 

Hermione scoffed. “He knows which buttons to push, but no, I’m not upset.”

“Good. He’s…”

“If you’re about to say he’s not a bad person, save it.”

Severus chuckled. “I was attempting to find a way to say so, yes. But I understand your experiences thus far have been less than pleasant.”

Hermione looked up at Severus, her face serious. “Be careful with him? He’s dangerous.”

Reactivity  

Severus caught up with Lucius by the Floos. “Lunch? Really?”

“I could never pass up an opportunity for an interrogation, Severus. You’re far too much fun to play with.”

“Play with yourself,” Severus snarled, “and leave Hermione out of it.”

“Hermione, is it?” Lucius’ eyes narrowed. “And what exactly is your relationship–”

“None of your business.”

“Tch, so touchy,” Lucius chided. “Need I remind you–”

“No, I’m quite aware–”

“You are a former Death Eater. Her former teacher. Twenty years her senior.”

“I don’t need you to tell me what I already know.”

“Perhaps you should take your own advice.”

Rage  

That night, Severus tossed in his bed. Lucius’ questioning over lunch had been relentless, but all came to the same point– how could he possibly think himself worthy of any woman, let alone one so beloved?

A memory sparked. His father’s voice. A happy day. They’d gone fishing, then bought some fish from the market “as a surprise for Mum”. She’d been standing in the doorway, her face calm and happy. Da had stopped and stared before sighing. 

“A man cannot love a woman until he accepts himself, flaws and all, son.”

“Hermione’s just a coworker,” Severus growled. “Nothing more.”

Genius  

“Good morning, Granger,” Severus said. Hermione halted in the process of wiping sleep from her eyes.

“Severus! You’re here early. Is everything ok?” Her eyes narrowed. “Did Malfoy–”

“Everything is well. Calm yourself. Drink your coffee.” He gestured to the mug he’d prepared. “I had an idea last night but I’m afraid I’m not quite up to the task. Do you happen to know any available geniuses?”

“Aww, you flatterer. You sure know how to butter me up.” Hermione eyed the stacks of files. “Memory studies?”

“Yes. There used to be a Memory Room in the DoM. Let’s restore it.”

Challenged  

At first, their work was going smoothly. In Hermione, Severus found a competent partner whose quick wit and sharp mind matched his own. She was his match in every way- intelligent, studious… beautiful.

And that’s what he struggled with. The work was exciting but his partner was moreso, and distracting to boot. Keeping his mind on his work and not on her curves was nearly impossible. When she threw her arms wide to emphasise a point, her hair flowed around her like a crown. She was a goddess of knowledge and passion, and all he wanted to do was worship.

Motivated 

“Not that I mind, of course,” Hermione said several days and many crumpled piles of parchment later, “but why me?”

“Hmm?” Severus replied as casually as he could. Hermione had used a different perfume today and it was driving him batty. Lilac and orange.They weren’t something he’d ever considered blending, but for her, it worked. It reminded him that she was a beautiful woman who he’d love to–

“Severus,” Hermione said again. “I asked–”

“I love you.”

Hermione blinked. “Er…”

“I said, I heard you.” Severus flushed red at the lie.

“No you didn’t. You said you love me.”

Passionate 

Severus rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–”

“You don’t love me?”

“Hermione–”

“Not Miss Granger?” Hermione’s grin was feral as she slid around him to sit on the desk in front of him. She twined her fingers through his tie, pulling him closer inch by inch. “You love me.”

Severus sighed. “Merlin help me, I do.”

“I love you too, Severus.”

Their lips met gently, a chaste peck. Then firmer, moulding together. Tasting, lingering, nipping. 

And if later their desks were slightly out of place, who could say what the reason was? Certainly not them.

Empowered

It was only through his years of intense neutrality as a spy that Severus was able to keep the grin off his face the next morning when his partner arrived at work. Hermione had no such background, and so she was a radiant lioness as she nearly floated to their shared workspace.

“Good morning,” he said, failing to keep the amusement out of his voice.

“Why yes, it is indeed,” she replied, dropping her outer robe onto her chair. Lilac and orange filled the air around her and she breathed deeply. “Mmm, I just love this scent, don’t you?”

“Tease.”

Creative

“I think it could work,” Hermione said, tapping her quill to her lips. She gestured to the open blueprint scroll on her desk. “There used to be a space here. One can only assume it was for this Memory section. I wonder why they removed it.”

“No one remembers,” Severus said. Hermione smacked his shoulder goodnaturedly.

“I want to do more research before we approach Kingsley, but I think he’ll be on board with restoring it. There’s so much we don’t know about memory charms–” A shadow passed over Hermione’s face, but it passed quickly. “I’ll start on this stack.”

Manic

Hermione fell into her research with a drive that at first impressed Severus but soon concerned him. Weeks passed into months and Hermione was losing herself. She forgot to eat. Had to be coaxed to drink anything, even coffee and tea.

One morning, Severus caught her mixing Pepper Up with a Muggle energy drink and he hauled her into the janitor’s closet.

“Why are you doing this?”

She clutched his robes. “My parents, Severus! I can save them! I just need– They need the Memory Room!”

“What happened to them?”

“I… It was…” Hermione burst into tears. “I killed them!”

Focused  

“What?!” Severus held Hermione by her shoulders as she sobbed. “What are you talking about? You haven’t killed anyone.”

“I might as well have,” Hermione bawled. “During the war. I thought I was protecting them so I cast a memory charm. A stronger Obliviate. To remove their memories of me.”

“Oh sweet Circe.” Severus felt himself go pale. “They haven’t regained their memories since then?”

“No, and nothing I’ve done has helped. They’re gone.”

Severus pulled her close, resting his chin on her head as she cried. “We’ll double our efforts. If we can save them, we will. I promise.”

In Flow 

Though Hermione still worked far later than Severus preferred, she took slightly better care of herself, only grumbling a little when Severus pressed her to drink water instead of caffeine. They settled into a comfortable workflow, with Hermione doing the bulk of the research on the Memory Room itself while Severus focused on ancient notes around memory charms and the brain. They both agreed that Hermione was too close to the subject to be objective.

Winter turned to spring then summer but eventually they’d compiled and organised every scrap of evidence they’d found.

“Now it’s up to Kingsley,” Hermione said.

Confident  

Severus would never march into the Minister’s office on a Tuesday afternoon without explicit invitation and possibly two confirmations, but Hermione seemed to have no qualms as she punched the lift button. She smirked over her shoulder at him.

“Will you relax? I promise he doesn’t bite.”

“We were on opposite sides of a war, if you’ll kindly recall.”

“So were we, remember? And I don’t bite.”

Unbidden, Severus felt his cheeks flush. Hermione laughed.

“Why Severus Snape, do you want me to bite?”

“Shut up,” he grumbled. “Let’s just get this done.”

The lift chimed. “Level one, Minister’s Office.”

Brave  

The doors opened to reveal Kingsley Shacklebolt sitting behind his desk, deep in conversation with Lucius Malfoy. Severus’ step hitched a moment but Hermione showed no reaction.

“Good morning, Minister, Malfoy,” she said cheerfully. “I trust you haven’t forgotten our meeting?”

“Of course not, Hermione,” Kingsley replied, rising to shake her hand. “In fact, I was just telling Malfoy about it. We find the topic fascinating.”

“Do you?” Hermione asked, turning to face Lucius. “I hadn’t realised you were familiar with the subject.”

“I am not,” Lucius said, leaning back and steepling his fingers, “but I am on the Wizengamot.”

Interested  

Hermione was well into her presentation but only Kingsley was paying attention. Lucius’ eyes bore into the side of Severus’ face and he didn’t need to be a Legilimens to hear the man imploring him to look over. Severus ignored it as long as he could but the intensity was annoying. He finally turned and raised an eyebrow.

Lucius flicked his eyes to Hermione, rolled them.

Severus glared.

Lucius shifted his gaze between Severus and Hermione, then he stood with a snort.

“All right, Granger, I’ve seen enough,” Lucius interrupted. “I approve your funding.”

“But the Wizengamot–”

“Follow my lead.”

Curious  

Severus helped Hermione gather up papers while Lucius and Kingsley discussed the amount of funding needed.

“You did a good job,” Severus whispered. “He was impressed.”

“I didn’t realise I was presenting to Malfoy,” Hermione whispered back. “I’d have worn something low cut.”

Severus barked out a laugh, which caught Lucius’ attention.

“A moment of your time, Severus?” he asked.

Hermione grimaced. “Good luck.”

“What do you want?” Severus asked once Hermione had left.

“Just to ask a question,” Lucius replied, plucking Kingsley’s brandy from his hand and sipping it. “When were you going to tell us you’re in love?”

In Awe  

Severus glared at his old friend then turned to the Minister, who held up his hands with a grin.

“He’s an arsehole, I agree, but he’s right. It’s so obvious to look at the two of you.” Kingsley took back his brandy. “It was easy to read her face, of course, but the fact that you were so carefully neutral was…”

“Adorable,” Lucius finished. “So. Are there congratulations in order?”

“We’re… friends, of a sort.”

Lucius snorted. “Keep telling yourself that. You’re certainly… friendly.”

“She’s brilliant,” Severus said. “She’s inspiring. I admire her.”

“You’re getting sappy in your old age.”

Proud  

“For what it’s worth,” Lucius said on the lift down, “I’m proud of you. It’s not easy to open yourself up to new love, especially with the track record you have.”

Severus grimaced. “Thank you? And what about you and Shacklebolt?”

“That’s not love,” Lucius snorted, waving his hand dismissively. “That’s a mutually beneficial partnership.”

“Very Slytherin of you.”

“You know me, Severus. I always end up on top.”

“That was far more information than I needed to know.”

The two chuckled as the lift doors opened. Hermione stood waiting, her face anxious.

Lucius snorted. “Sentimental fools, both of you.”

Inspired

With funding from the Wizengamot secured, they moved quickly. A team of builders was assembled and they began recreating the lost wing, carefully following the ancient blueprint. In a matter of days, the department was finished.

The walls were deep blue and they flashed images as people walked by. Memories. Severus found himself staring at his own past, Lily flying through the air with a wide grin on her face. Petunia glared nearby, but he heard his younger self cheer. 

“I enchanted it to only show happy memories,” Hermione said, slipping her hand into his. “I figured that was safest.”

Moved

Severus cast a silent Wingardium, floating two boxes and carrying a third. The trek to the new Memory Room was short and the office he shared with Hermione was right at the front. He set down the boxes and looked around.

“What in Merlin’s name are we going to do with all this space?”

“Oh, don’t you worry,” Hermione grinned, sorting through her own boxes, “I’ll find a way to fill it.”

“...Why do I feel that that’s a threat?”

“It is,” She chuckled, but then grew sober. “Do you think we can do it? Save my parents?”

“I do.”

Chapter Text

Courage  

“Your parents are here.”

Hermione jumped, knocking her coffee over. Severus waved a hand to clean up the mess.

“Nervous?” he asked, opening his arms to hold Hermione close.

“Terrified,” she whispered. “If this works, they’ll hate me.”

“You don’t know that–”

“I took away their memory, Severus! Of their only child! How could they not hate me?”

He pressed a kiss into her hair. “Because if they’re anything like you, they’ll understand why you did it, and they’ll forgive you.”

“I don’t think I can do this.”

“You’re a Gryffindor, remember? You can do anything. Even fix a mistake.”

Intuition  

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins,” Severus said as he took a chair across the desk from the Muggles. Hermione sat beside him, her face pale, but she smiled at the couple– her parents.

For their part, they weren’t nervous at all.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Monica said.

“I suppose,” Wendell groused. “We’re here for some sort of health inspection?”

“Yes,” Hermione said. “Nothing to be alarmed by. Very routine–”

“You look familiar.” Monica narrowed her eyes. “Have we met?”

“Er…” Hermione glanced at Severus, who was already casting on her parents. “Perhaps you’ll remember in a moment?”

“ Restituet !”

Joy  

Monica and Wendell went board stiff, their eyes flicking as the spell worked on the Obliviate Hermione had cast well over a decade ago. In a moment, they relaxed.

“Mum? Dad?” Hermione whispered.

“Hermione?” 

“Mum!”

“Jean!”

“Hugo!”

The three collapsed in a pile of joyful tears. Jean pressed dozens of kisses to Hermione’s face and Hugo held his wife and daughter close. Severus discreetly wiped a tear away, but his attention was caught by the diagnostic spell he held.

“Er, Hermione? The counter’s not going to last long.”

“How long?”

Severus grimaced. “A few minutes. Their minds are already splintering.”

Acceptance

“Let me get this straight,” Hugo said. “When you were seventeen, you cast a spell on us to make us forget you. Forever.”

“That’s right. To protect you.”

“In what world–”

“Hugo,” Jean interrupted, placing her hand on her husband’s, “she was doing the best she could. We can’t blame her for that.”

Hugo grumbled but didn’t argue.

“But the spell was too powerful and now you can’t restore our memories?”

“Not without breaking your minds. It’s been too long.”

“So we’ll go back to being Monica and Wendell Wilkins?”

Hermione sobbed. Jean held her daughter close.

“We love you.”

Kindness  

Hours later, Severus reflected back on the conversation. Hermione’s parents had been so logical, so understanding of her motives. They’d had a few more minutes to say their goodbyes before her parents faded and became Monica and Wendell again. Severus had informed them that the inspection was in error and they were free to enjoy their time in England, walking them out and casting a discreet Obliviate to remove the Ministry’s location from their memory.

Then he’d returned, gathered Hermione up, and Floo’d them both to his flat where she collapsed in sobs in his arms.

He cried with her.

Silly

The next morning, Hermione sat on the couch ignoring the mug of strong coffee Severus had offered her. It was close to the start of their workday.

“We should go,” she said, but neither of them moved. “It’s silly, really. I haven’t had parents in ten years and I don’t have parents now. Nothing’s changed.”

“Except for those ten minutes where you had parents again,” Severus said quietly, “and it’s all right to mourn them.”

“It’s not like they died–”

“Hermione.”

“We should get to work. There’s more to do. We–”

“Hermione, enough.” He tucked her under his chin. “Enough.”

Free  

It was two weeks before Hermione felt ready to go back to the Memory Room. Severus found her staring at the memory wall, watching her parents push her on a swing. They were laughing. Happy.

“I don’t know what to do with myself now,” Hermione said. “I’ve been working toward restoring them for so long… And there’s no chance. So what’s the point? Why did we bother bringing back this department?”

Severus slipped an arm around her shoulder. “To research. To learn. We may never fix your parents but there are still patients at St. Mungo’s that deserve our help.”

Care

And that’s what they did. For the next year, they worked relentlessly to restore as many Obliviated memories as they could. For the most part, they were successful, but some– like Gilderoy Lockhart– were so locked in their own mind that they would never be restored.

Hermione comforted the families as best she could, her own experience lending her expertise and empathy. Every day, Severus fell for her more, her tenderness chipping away at the last of his walls.

Until one day he took a deep breath and activated the Floo, calling for Harry.

“I need help choosing a ring.”

Love  

“Hermione, would you do me the great honour of becoming my wife?” Severus asked. Then grimaced at his reflection in the mirror. “No, too formal. She doesn’t like formal. Try again. Hermione, I love you. Will you be my wife?”

Something crashed behind him and he whirled, his wand already in his hand. Hermione stood there, her eyes wide, a breakfast tray shattered on the floor.

She burst out laughing.

“Are you all right?” Severus asked, waving his wand to clean the mess. “Are you injured?”

Hermione giggled, pulling a ring from her pocket. “I was about to ask you !”

Safe  

Later, they curled around each other, admiring their rings.

Hers was a thin rose gold band, wrapped around three low diamonds, well-protected by their prongs. His was thicker, silver, with two emeralds surrounding a ruby.

“It’s a little on the nose,” he snickered, “but I am not opposed. Did Lucius help you choose it?”

“He did, and he made fun of me the entire time.” Hermione laughed as she said it, not truly offended. “Did Harry help you?”

“Yes. He showed me the gaudiest, most ostentatious, ugly ring at first, just to see my reaction.”

“Aww, our friends love us!”

Belonging  

They chose a flat together, equidistant to St. Mungo’s and the Ministry since they spent so much time at both. At first, the amount of boxes they each brought seemed like no trouble. Hermione wasn’t much of a cook while Severus was a kitchen wizard, so he took over the space. He had practically no product while Hermione had a stylist shop at her disposal, so the bathroom was hers.

But they both brought books. Many, many books.

It took several hefty applications of magic, but eventually they looked over their handiwork with pride. Everything fit, and so did they.

Intimate  

Though they’d stayed overnight at each other’s flats before, living in their own space was an entirely new experience. Each creak was new, the neighbours’ voices were different, even the wind hit in different spots. Severus had expected that he would have a hard time sleeping, but…

The moon shone through the blinds they’d left open, making their skin glow gently silver. They wrapped around each other, hands clasped and Hermione’s head on Severus’ shoulder. Their sweat glistened in the moonlight and Severus still breathed heavily from their exertion.

They slipped easily into sleep together, two hearts beating in sync.

Tender  

“You may kiss the bride.”

Severus reached for Hermione, but she was already on her way up, locking lips with his and almost knocking them both over. He lifted her and spun, laughing as she claimed his lips again. 

Cheers erupted around them. Harry whistled, ribbing Draco with his elbow. Severus couldn’t hear what Harry said, but Draco flushed red to his scalp. The entire Weasley clan hooted and hollered, Fred and George sending numerous WWW fireworks into the sky. Ginny wiggled her eyebrows at Luna, mouthing “We’re next.”

Surrounded by friends and friends who had become family, love bloomed.

Calm  

Nearly a year passed. Memories kept them busy, so busy in fact, that they missed something rather important.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Snape,” said the Healer, “you are sixteen weeks along and perfectly healthy.”

“It’s not possible,” Hermione said in shock. “I would have noticed if I was pregnant. Oh Severus, how can I possibly be a good mother if i didn’t even notice –”

“I’m not worried,” Severus replied, helping her up. “We’ll make mistakes like all parents do, but at least our children won’t join any evil cults or give their classmates pockmarks for life.” 

“Don’t be so sure,” Hermione muttered.

Grateful  

Hermione slept, her face exhausted but triumphant. 

“Your mother is a goddess, little one,” Severus said, rocking his daughter. “Wait and see, you’ll grow up to be just like her.”

The baby gurgled, blinking up at him in confusion.

“No, I mean it. You are your mother’s daughter in every way.”

A grumble.

“All right, yes, your hair comes from me. Be grateful you don’t have my nose. I worried it was a dominant trait.”

A cry.

“I quite agree! Thankfully your mother’s genes are quite strong, and so are you.” He kissed the baby and said, “Welcome home, Penelope.”

Present  

They celebrated Penny’s first Christmas at the Burrow where it seemed half the Wizarding population had gathered. Penny had been cooed over and passed around until finally she’d been deposited in Minerva’s lap. The Headmistress shooed away anyone who looked at all intent on taking the baby, even Hermione. 

She’d finally accepted defeat and flopped on the sofa next to Severus. “She’ll call me when Penny’s hungry.”

Severus chuckled, passing her a plate piled high with treats. “Molly said that we’re to sit right here and enjoy ourselves, no arguing.”

Hermione howled. “I suppose we should listen to the Matriarch.”

Grounded  

“Ohhhhh, I hate her!” Hermione snarled, tearing up a letter. Severus paused in the act of pretending a spoonful of baby food was a hippogriff to stare at his wife.

“Who?”

“Rita Skeeter. She sent another request for an interview.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “She’s convinced there’s something heinous going on. One or the other of us must be under the Imperius. The truth must come out, that sort of thing.”

Severus snorted, flying the spoon around again. “Some people can’t stand seeing others succeed. Just ignore her.”

“Orrrrr I could keep her in a jar again. Serve her right.”

Connected

A letter arrived one evening from a solicitor. Severus sliced it open with a silver letter opener, his Christmas gift from Lucius, then dropped the knife with a clatter. Hermione jumped, knocking Penelope loose from her breast. The baby squalled, only settling when she was reattached to her mother and suckled.

“What is it?” Hermione asked.

“Apparently the city is finally clearing out my old neighbourhood. The bank has offered me fifty thousand pounds for Spinner’s End. I think I’ll accept.”

“I’m so sorry, Severus. Do you want to go visit before they demolish it?”

“Why? There’s nothing left there.”

Seen

She narrowed her eyes. “Severus.”

“Hermione.”

“This is a chance for closure.”

“I don’t need it.”

“Are you sure? You’ve never mourned your parents.”

“I don’t intend to start now.” He flipped open the Prophet . “Unlike you, I was never close to mine.”

“Severus.”

“Hermione.” He glared at her over the newspaper but there was no heat in his gaze. “Why do you want me to go?”

“I’ve never seen where you grew up and it would be interesting to know the place and people that shaped you.”

“It’s full of mud and not much else.”

“Severus.”

“Drop it, please.”

Resilience  

“Besides, why should I go back there?” Severus asked that night as though the hours between the previous conversation hadn’t happened. “They didn’t want my mother and me then. Why should I give them the satisfaction of seeing me now?”

“You don’t want to show all your naysayers your beautiful wife and child?” Hermione asked with a sly grin. “Don’t want to prove them all wrong by being handsome and successful and strong?”

Severus snorted. “You sure know how to butter me up.”

“So we’ll go?”

“If it will make you happy. But don’t expect them to throw a parade.”

Dignity 

He would never say it, but Hermione had been right. She was outside showing off Penny to the neighbours, even old Mrs. Whimple who was somehow still alive. She’d taken one look at Severus and glared dourly.

“You’re a Snape all right, but you’ve got Eileen in you, too. Better than the rest of us, ey? Bah!” Dismissed, he’d walked into the house. Memories were everywhere.

His father had burned his mother’s wand in that fireplace. He’d hidden over there while his parents fought. 

There were no ghosts in Spinner’s End. There would be no more Snapes.

He was satisfied.