Persephone, Severus realized late that evening, had not been outside the house in a weeks. A painfully shy creature by nature, as well as the genetics he'd cursed her with, the young lady much preferred the comfort of her bedroom and the solace of her books to that of the elegant dance halls and high-class balls her peers so favored.
That such a comely maiden was so reclusive, Narcissa lamented often, was nothing short of a great shame of wastefulness. For, his fatherly bias set aside, Persephone honestly was a lovely little thing to look upon. Freshly seventeen, her alabaster face shone with radiance only youth could provide, offering up a flawless backdrop for her large, black eyes.
He'd always adored the little imp's eyes, from the very moment of her birth. Whilst his were ugly and harsh, Persephone's were wont to sparkle quite brilliantly, giving off the impression that she housed a myriad of stars within those dark orbs. They were, Severus reflected with a small smile, his mother's eyes. And what a comfort that small feature afforded him, for his mother had been lost to him when he was barely more than a boy.
He was no less grateful, either, that Prince genetics had overwhelmed her being, casting aside the garish features that marred the Snape line in both looks and temperaments. For her nose was not a crooked beak, but rather smooth and aristocratic, no real fault detectable along its traces. In regards to Persephone's lips, they were the full pucker of his long-departed mother, just as willing as hers had been to peck his cheek in unconditional affection.
And so very unlike the disgusting mop atop Severus's head, his daughter's hair was a glory for all to behold. Four feet of undamaged loose waves, black and shimmering, tumbled from her roots and not the tinniest bit of that mane was prone to the buildup of grease or oil.
But the Prince line was not free from its downsides, either. While his Father's bloodline offered up an endless string of strong, robust women and men, his Mother's ancestry only offered up chronic sickliness and fragility in the matter of health. And indeed, the poor girl was very often ill, stricken with whatever random illness happened to be coursing its way through either the Muggle or Magical World. As a rather unfortunate result, Persephone seemed unable to put on any adequate weight or muscle. Much like himself, she stood a frail little thing, completely devoid of any real body fat to keep her warm.
Simply put, there was no denying whose child she was. If the dark eyes and adoration of brewing and reading were not enough to convince anybody who might inquire, the way Persephone was so shamelessly devoted to those she loved would have been enough to staunch even the most ardent of deniers. For as much as he had loved Lily, Severus's affection towards his daughter outweighed that in immeasurable amounts. An adoration which Persephone happily reciprocated, suffering not a single bad word to be said about him in her presence.
A command that was easily enough enforced. Because, just like himself, Persephone was a very skilled parishioner of magic. It was with relative ease that she could parry the attacks of many twice her age, whether it be with her wand or mental manipulations, for her skills as an occlumens were very refined from years of his tutelage. The number that had stood foolish enough to rile Persephone into such fiery passions that they had felt her wrath were few, a happy circumstance helped along by the fact that she was tenderhearted and very slow to anger.
Personality wise, aside from the affliction of rather serious shyness, Persephone had inherited his brilliance to boot. The girl had taken to her studies quickly, like a fish to water, learning to read at the tender age of four just as he had. There simply hadn't been a Muggle School around that could keep up with her rigorous appetite for knowledge, so Severus himself had tutored the dear child, ever amazed at her proficiency.
And when the sad time came that Severus could no longer stay at home with Persephone, he'd shipped her off to stay with her Godmother during the school year, entrusting the serious matter of her education to whatever tutors Narcissa saw fit and deserving enough of such a high honor.
It wasn't until it was too late that Severus realized his cloistering of Persephone had proved detrimental to her being properly socialized, for genetics alone could only account for so much of her bashfulness. But it was with good intentions that Severus had kept his daughter tucked away the majority of her early life. There had been a bloody war waging about them at the time and, in his fear, Severus had reasoned that it was best to keep the girl secret from all but a very select few souls. After all, it had been very commonplace for the people in those dark days (on either side, in nearly equal measure) to harm the children of their enemies in vengeance, knowing that such a blow stung more than any curse imaginable.
So he had dared not entrust her keeping to anybody but himself or Narcissa, not even into the welcoming arms of Hogwarts. Safe though it was, the very thought of Persephone being pressured into the same court of Purebloods Draco belonged to had made his skin crawl to no slight degree. Even now, the very idea that his soft-hearted daughter might somehow become corrupted with the ugly prejudices and cruel traditions running rampant in her Godfamily, worried him endlessly. He wanted Persephone to forever remain the sweet girl she was, a very likeness to the Mother and Best Mate that he had loved so fiercely.
It came as no small relief that Persephone appeared the share the same sentiments in regards to Pureblooded society. It was not without a sneer of distaste that she received an invitation to take tea, either from one heiress or another, and it was not without any small amount of grumbling that she wrote back accepting when all polite excuses were exhausted. The men in high society fared only slightly better, due only to the fact that they were more than willing to discuss politics and other such similar subjects with Persephone, whereas the ladies would often adhere to societal norms and do little more than gossip and chatter away endlessly.
Were it not for Narcissa's and Lucius's constant interference, and Draco's pestering, Severus would have more than happily obliged (and fostered) his young daughter's desire for solitude. Even tonight, should she but ask, Severus would grant Persephone permission to flake out on her plans to meet Draco and their mutual acquaintances in Hogsmeade. She'd gotten a new book after all, a very pressing matter one should always attend to straight away. And, if that were not a good enough reason to convince anybody, the fact that Pansy would be amongst the group being met certainly was. As much as Severus despised Black's very being, Persephone disdained Pansy, having even gone so far as to split the pug-like girl's lip at a rather disastrous ninth birthday party of Draco's.
But, alas, Persephone was much too selfless a being to retract the promise she'd made to Draco. New book or not, the bachelorette would oblige the wishes of the boy she considered a brother, her happiness be damned.
Sure enough, when the time arrived, Persephone came gliding into the living room. A decidedly resigned look was sprawled across her youthful face, making her look as if she were fated to meet a hangman and not a small group of her contemporaries. It was as she gave a quick glance to the clock in the room that his trademark scowl marred her face, prompting Severus to quickly bolster her mood back to its usual peaceful level.
"It's only a few hours, Treasure," He soothed, "And then you'll be home to your book."
The very book in question had been Narcissa's bargaining chip, enabling the crafty blonde to coax her Goddaughter out of the house. Having always had quite the penchant and talent for matchmaking, the Malfoy Matriarch had been all the more earnest in her assertions that Persephone not decline this particular invitation, for a fair bet of meddling was set to be done that evening by her own hand.
That the Black sister should interfere in such a way came as no surprise to Severus. The fact that a girl such as Persephone should have spent that last seventeen years without falling in love, rattled the youngest Black sister like nothing else, and it came as a personal affront to her that the child she helped raised was missing out on such a fantastic part of her youth. As such, Narcissa had spared no expense or exertions in lining up dates for her goddaughter.
Had the woman not been so particular and careful in scanning any potential candidates for the role, Severus would have promptly put a stop to that particular bit of womanly meddling. But as of yet, Narcissa had only picked the most respectable of young men, many of whom Persephone still remained in friendly contact with, even after having turned down their offers for coupledom.
Tonight the fortunate fellow happened to be a fresh victim, never before having been singled out by Narcissa for the important task of wooing Persephone. Why that might have been, remained unknown to Severus, for the aristocrat had always been a very welcome guest to Malfoy Manor when their annual balls were being held.
Whatever the reason, Asa Greengrass was a perfectly viable candidate. Of a study build, the former Hufflepuff had graduated four years ago, the book enthusiast being one of the few students Severus favored outside his house. An unassuming intellect, quiet and polite, Severus had high hopes that this night might be the one in which Persephone met the person in whom her soul delighted. For just as loving Lily had drawn him from his cocoon and made him a fully-realized being, Severus had hopes the same experience might work the same wonders with Persephone.
"Will I like Asa?" Persephone broke the relative silence of the house, speaking in the drawl familiar to their family.
"You like everybody." Severus reminded, sipping his coffee.
"Will I enjoy his company?" She corrected, having smiled softly at his teasing.
"I wager you will." Severus agreed. "He's a young man who enjoys his books."
"But is he kind?" She pestered, that one factor having always been the most important to her.
"I dare say the Sorting Hat put him in Hufflepuff for a reason." He comforted.
"I wish Narcissa would learn that a girl can be happy by herself." Persephone sighed, looking longingly back upstairs.
"When she met Lucius, she was the happiest she'd ever been." Severus replied. "She wants that for you, too."
"Oh, Papa." She smiled. "You're the only man I will never need."
"You're being silly." Severus scolded, heatlessly. "But thank you, all the same."
"Narcissa shouldn't worry." Persephone insisted. "Someday my prince shall come."
It was an often occurrence that his beloved daughter spoke in such a self-assured confidence, gazing off into space with a dreamy look in her eyes as she did so. In manner much like Luna Lovegood, his child reasoned and believed all manners of things, with the innocence and unchecked surety that usually graces only young children.
But while Luna was nothing more than an admittedly odd girl, Persephone had some sort of basis behind her behaviors. Whether by blessing or curse, depending on who you might ask, the teenager had been born with a predisposition of prophetic dreaming. Unhelpfully vague though they often were, she spent great hours deciphering in them many hopes and dreams that often came to be. And all this, without the nonsensical ramblings and attention-seeking squawking that seers like Sybil so favored.
"I have no doubt." Severus agreed. "But I should think you more deserving of a king."
"I would just as happily take a Pauper, if that's what came to be."
"Pauper of King, or anything in between, you'll have my blessing so long as he loves you."
Persephone grinned at him in reply, revealing straight rows of pearly teeth as the gesture lit up her entire face. Oh, how that gesture served to warm his hardened heart. For if nothing else good remained to be said about him, the undisputable fact that a being as pure-hearted as she was loved him, and loved him unconditionally, was more than enough to see him through the hardest trials of his life. Persephone was his saving grace, certainly, for had it not been for her birth the war would have claimed him as its victim long ago.
"How pretty you look." He admired, with no worry at all about spoiling her with his endless barrage of compliments. One could not spoil such an uncorruptable soul, after all.
And indeed, how pretty she looked. She stood before him the spitting image of his mother, before the many years of abuse had aged her prematurely and so very harshly. Had he the desire to move from his comfortable perch, Severus would have grabbed one of the old photo albums he'd inherited and flipped through its pages until he found his mother's graduation picture, only to find it needless as her doppelganger stood before him. Dressed quite fetchingly, he might add, in a lovely set of pastel blue robes made from the softest cashmere money could buy.
The garment had been Narcissa's gift to Persephone on her most recent birthday, and they served wonderfully to make her appear far less ghostly and frail as she often appeared to be. She donned another gift as well, this one from Lucius. It was a beautiful silver hairpin, tucked happily away into her hair, serving to keep the mass secured neatly it its bun.
Had it not been for Severus's gift of passing down the cauldron ladle his mother had once used, and then passed down to him on his seventeenth birthday, the hairpin would have certainly been her favorite gift. But, as it stood, the girl favored that particular bit of jewelry almost as much as her books and potions. Not a day passed that she hadn't one in her hair, having carefully spent a goodly amount of time selecting a piece from the enormous collection she'd amassed since toddlerhood.
"If only Oma could see you." Severus commented.
"She does." Persephone provided, in a knowing matter that implied she could actually see her grandmother before them.
"Let's not get so sentimental." Severus dismissed, handing over to his daughter a handful of coins. Should Asa decide not to be a gentleman and provide for her, Severus wanted her to be prepared, no matter how absurdly small that danger might be.
She tucked the currency away in a small pastel blue purse, one Draco had gifted her so very many years ago. Worn and tearing in several places, only kept together by the aid of magic, Persephone refused to part with it and rarely opted to use any other.
"I should be off, Papa." Persephone sighed, looking decidedly downcast.
They were to meet at Madame Puddifoot's for a spot of tea at half-past noon, and just like him, Persephone was never one to be anything but early to an event.
"Try your hardest to have fun, Treasure." Severus encouraged, rising to kiss her on the cheek. "And do be careful."
"For you, I'll try." She smiled, kissing his cheek in return. "And I'm always careful."
"Shall I expect you back for supper?"
Severus asked, knowing that the group she was spending time with liked to branch off after tea to go shopping in groups according to their preferences. And, if all went as well as Narcissa and he hoped it might, Asa would steal her away for the greater part of the evening and take her to dine alone for supper.
"Likely not." She scowled. "I promised Draco that I would stay until everyone else had left."
"A little socialization is good for you." Severus reminded. "Even I had a small gaggle of friends."
"I have Draco." She retorted.
"Oh, Persephone." Severus sighed. "I want the world for you."
"But I've already got the world," She insisted, "At home, with you."
And with that Persephone kissed his cheek again, leaving behind a notable smear of red lipstick. Then she glided a feet away, apparating at a distance to keep from assaulting his ears with the soft cracks that form of transportation afforded.