Author's Note: Charity Burbage and the New Prince is the sequel to my fanfiction Professor Burbage and the Potions Master. I'll try to write this sequel so that it's not absolutely necessary to read Potions Master first, but that being said…you're probably gonna want to read Potions Master first.

New Prince picks up shortly after Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows leaves off. Are you wondering why Charity Burbage is still alive? Well, what did I tell you about reading Potions Master first, hm?

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Charity Burbage and the New Prince

Prologue

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Hogwarts had never looked so good. The carpenter elves and goblins, working side by side with wizards and witches, had fully restored the castle, aging the new banisters and stonework to maintain the centuries-old patina that was so fitting for this stalwart school of magic. But on this night, the Great Hall carried the gleaming polish of newness. Instead of dim candles floating in the air, glimmering crystal chandeliers provided a soft but brighter glow. Crisp white linens stretched across dozens of round dinner tables laden with lustrous silver, and guests shed their everyday black in favor of electric blues, pale sherbets, and classic ivories. Everything about the room spoke of the anticipation of a promising future.

Elves scurried around the room with their trays of food and drink on their heads, serving witches and wizards as ever, but now the witches and wizard said thank you or at least offered an appreciative smile. The community of magical beings had pulled tightly together in the wake of the long battle against Voldemort, and it looked like relations had been permanently improved. They'd risen from the ashes, just like Dumbledore's Phoenix, and were moving on, stronger than before.

Charity stood at the edge of the dance floor, at the furthest corner from the one rectangular table in the room, the one where the special guests of the evening would be seated. All the efforts to get Hogwarts up and running before the start of the school year hadn't come cheap, and tonight was a celebration to thank the many generous benefactors to the cause—as well as an opportunity to squeeze a few more galleons out of them. Tickets to the event had cost a pretty knut, and the most expensive seats in the house were at that long table.

There would be another guest seated in prominence. A mysterious guest the Ministry had been tight-lipped about, only dropping cryptic hints here and there and insisting that no one would ever be able to guess who it was. Charity assumed it was all just a ploy to create a buzz around the event and up the prestige and value of a ticket, and she hadn't spent a moment of her time wondering which boring foreign dignitary or ancient wizard she'd never heard of it could be.

A year earlier, such an event as this would have been a major highlight in Charity's life. And she was indeed encouraged by the onward movement of the magical community, but even still, she didn't feel quite as ready to move on as everyone around her. She'd lost something of great value to the war, something she didn't expect to ever find again in this world, no matter how vigorously the silverware was buffed. So she mingled and smiled and laughed and all the while wondered how soon she could skip out of the party to massage her aching feet and rest her tired body.

The crystals of the chandeliers began tinkling, signaling that it was time for announcements, and all faces turned toward the head table. Positioned at the center was a portly man in a lime green tuxedo. He rocked back and forth on his feet, alternately rising up on his toes and coming to rest on the back of his heels. The corners of his eyes crinkled at the corners with excitement as he gazed into the crowd. This was Fineas Craybourne, chief of the Ministry of Magic's philanthropic endeavors.

Fineas touched his wand to his throat, increasing the volume of his voice so that all could hear. "Welcome everyone, and thank you for being here this evening. It seemed only fitting to hold this celebration here so that you could all see for yourselves what you made possible. Because of you, these hallowed halls will once again open for the education of our future. I drink to you."

He held up a goblet to the crowd and then took a healthy swig, his gulp amplified. He then thumped the goblet down onto the table and wiped his mouth, revealing a rather mischievous smirk as he pulled his hand away.

"Because of your selfless dedication to this and many other projects, the Ministry has deemed it appropriate that you should be among the first in the wizarding community to be re-introduced to our next guest."

A hush fell over the crowd, and photographers positioned themselves for the best shot. Despite her cynicism toward the surprise guest, Charity's heart beat more heavily than usual against her ribs. It was difficult to not get caught up in the crowd's eagerness for the big reveal.

"At the end of the war, we all thought our next guest dead. Why, we even went so far as to bury him." Fineas let out a good-humored chuckle and a low murmur of reciprocal laughter reverberated throughout the room, everyone apparently finding the thought of burying a man alive to be a pretty good joke. "What we didn't account for at the time was this particular wizard's cunning and infinitely superior knowledge of magical substances and potions."

At the word "potions," Charity froze. All objects between her and Fineas Craybourne dissolved into a blur as she became intently focused on every word that streamed from his mouth.

"He'd been taken by surprise at the Dark Lord's personal attack on him, but he'd known during those crazy times that anything was possible. He also knew that if such a thing were to happen, it would be best to let his attacker think for a time that he was, in fact, dead. And so before setting out to the Battle of Hogwarts, he'd taken, among other precautions, an intricately designed bezoar solution. Once he was poisoned, the solution took effect and preserved his body in a deathlike state for several days, long enough for his enemy to believe him dead."

The murmur that went through the crowd was now one of shock. A very famous wizard had been poisoned at the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Because it's wizard tradition to bury the wand with the body, he knew he'd be able to summon enough strength upon regaining consciousness to get himself out of the tomb when the time came. His strength also carried him to Saint Mungo's, where he's been recuperating in private ever since. I am pleased to tell you that he has made a full recovery and joins us tonight in his first public appearance as a hero. I won't need to remind you that the last time any of us saw him conscious, we thought him our worst enemy, only to find out upon his 'death' that he was our greatest friend.

"Without further ado—ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Severus Snape."

The genteel crowd burst into wild applause as a thin wizard with long, black hair stepped onto the platform behind the table. In contrast to Claybourne's exuberant preening, this wizard's hunched shoulders and harsh scowl made him look as if he'd very much like to climb back into the grave he'd crawled out of. When he came to stand next to Claybourne, who clapped him on the shoulder, his features stood impassive. His stillness, and even the angle at which he held his hooked nose, reminded Charity of the photo she kept of him—encased in a silver frame that this wizard himself had given her.

The only things that moved on him were his charcoal eyes. They flicked all over the room as if searching for something and didn't stop until they landed on Charity. She sucked in a breath and smiled as she watched one corner of his mouth twitch ever so slightly. Then she held that breath, afraid that releasing it would cause him to disappear. She'd seen Snape alive in her dreams nearly every single night since his reported death, and now she was certain that must have been a premonition of sorts, her subconscious always knowing that he was still alive. What she couldn't have predicted was the effect his gaze would have on her, the warmth of it, the serenity with which it filled her.

Claybourne gave Snape's shoulder a shake and said, "Come on old boy, say a few words to your adoring fans." Snape flicked his eyes to look at Claybourne, and Charity felt as if a piece of her had been torn away, leaving a void that quickly filled with coldness.

Snape said his few words to the crowd, thanking them for being there, for all of the kind words they'd said and written about him in his absence. He spoke of the great evil they'd defeated together and cautioned against complaisance, warned them that evil still existed and they had to be vigilant. Never again could they let evil grow to the magnitude of Voldemort's reign. The crowd listened with rapt attention, and when he finished, applauded. It wasn't a perfunctory applause given out of politeness or obligation, and it wasn't a fanatical applause such as one hears at a rock concert. It was the respectful, earnest, hopeful applause that a hungry crowd gives to a leader.

And Charity realized that Snape was no longer hers. He belonged to the people. He was already a hero and would now be a leader in this new world. Charity was no longer the only one that saw the good in him, the only one that needed him. Even as she felt her heart sink she knew she was being absurd. Snape was alive! This was a cause to rejoice, not lick her selfish, spoiled wounds. Wasn't the fact that the world would be a better place with Snape's brilliance in it enough to satisfy her? And didn't the fact that he'd sought her out in the crowd tell her that she still mattered to him, at least a little bit?

Without any time seeming to have passed, dinner was over, plates cleared, and the music begun. Classical music floated throughout the room, and nearly all of the guests, Charity included, swirled in elegant geometric patterns around the dance floor. There would be no slam dancing to the Weird Sisters tonight. As the bodies moved all around her, Charity kept an eye out for Snape. She caught a glimpse of him once, standing among the tables and talking with a group of men, but lost sight of him when she had to return her attention to the complicated steps of the dance.

She knew she wouldn't get a chance to speak with Snape this evening; there were people in the room of far more importance than her who had dibs on the returned hero's time, but she needed to at least look at him. Several turns later, she still hadn't been able to find him again. Everything around her seemed to be moving—the dancers, the floor, the chandeliers and the walls. It all became jumbled into one giant obstacle between her and Snape. She started to panic. What if he was gone! What if she'd lost him for good and would never find him again? Her breath came in shallow spurts. She lost focus on the dance entirely and stopped, but everything kept moving around her, and somehow her inanimate form didn't disturb the flow.

Suddenly, Charity was snatched away and found herself standing in the dark corridor outside the Great Hall. Through the flickering torchlight she stared into the severe outline of Severus Snape's face.

"Severus," she gasped.

"It was getting a bit stuffy in there, didn't you think?" He said, his black eyes steady on hers.

"Oh Severus," was all she could she could get out as she dug her fingers into his biceps, making sure he was really there.

Voices approached the nearest exit from the ballroom, and Snape quickly slid a hand to small of Charity's back and pulled her close to whisper urgently into her ear, "Is there somewhere else you'd like to go?"

Charity laughed her yes and grabbed his hand. Before anyone else emerged from the ballroom the two of them were spiraling up the stone steps of the astronomy tower. Once they reached the top and stood under the few shining stars that managed to peek out from behind the inky clouds in the night sky, Charity turned to him and threw her arms around his neck. He laid one palm flat across her back, and stroked the other across the side of her face. For a long time the two of them merely watched each other. They weren't going to spend their time talking about meaningless things, such as what they'd both been doing for these last months; they were simply going to be together.

But there was one new development that Charity did need to tell Snape about, and so, after she'd gleaned enough information from his countenance, she softly asked him, "Severus, do you love me?"

"Of course," he answered.

"On our last night together," she continued, "do you remember how much you loved me?"

He bent to rest his forehead on hers and closed his eyes. He stroked his thumb tenderly across her lips as he thought back on the intimacy they'd shared. "I'll never forget," he murmured.

Charity reached around and grasped onto the hand he had behind her and slowly pulled it around. Laying her hand across the back of Snape's bony fingers, she then pressed his palm to her rounded belly. The swell had been hidden under the loose, gauzy fabric that hung from her Empire waist, but now that he felt it, there could be no mistaking his lover's condition.

Snape opened his eyes and pulled his head back to stare down at his hand, and Charity stood motionless, waiting for his full reaction. He kept that hand planted at her womb, but in one swift motion, he raked the other through her hair and pressed his mouth to hers in a fervent kiss.

"Charity," he huffed when he finally pulled his mouth away. "Charity, Charity," he murmured as he kissed her cheek, her chin, her neck, her bosom, all the way down until he knelt before her and nuzzled his face into the soft folds of fabric at her stomach. "I don't deserve this. I've never done anything to deserve such happiness."

Charity clutched her fingers in his hair and cried in relief. She couldn't believe he was here, and that she'd told him, and that he was happy. "I love you Severus. I love you."

He looked up at her and rested his chin on her belly as he reached his hands to her sides. "Charity, my angel, you have no idea how the mere thought of you pulled me through all of these long, terrible months. How you gave me strength then and continue to do so now. There's no reason to wait. There never was. Charity Burbage, will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

Charity smiled through her tears and laughed. "Yes, yes!"

A rumble of thunder peeled through the night sky, and large drops of rain fell down on them. Charity looked down on Snape, still with her fingers entwined in his long hair. But something had changed; the sharp angles of his features were blurred and he no longer felt solid beneath her touch. The patter of rain sounded all around, yet Charity didn't get wet. But with every drop that fell, more of Snape smudged and disintegrated until he was nothing more than a sagging pile of cloth between Charity's fingers.

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Charity's eyes jolted open, and she looked with disgust at the blanket she desperately gripped in her clenched hands. Another dream about Snape. Always so wonderful while they lasted, but always so difficult to wake up from.

A cold winter rain knocked against her window, and she gingerly pushed herself up to standing, tossing aside the offending blanket. She padded across her tiny apartment to peer through the streaks onto the wet Parisian street below her. Looked like she'd better bring her sturdiest umbrella down to the boulangerie this morning. The two block walk had been her only form of exercise these last weeks, so she didn't even consider skipping it. Besides, the best chocolate croissant in the city awaited her there.

As she tried to shake off the dream, her hand instinctively came to rest on her swollen belly, and she silently thanked God that at least that part of it was true. She traced slow, affectionate circles across her abdomen and smiled. Any day now, Charity Burbage was going to come face-to-face with Severus Snape's child.

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Author's Note: I just want you to know that I know Snape is acting a bit overly romantical and OOC here. But it was a dream, right, and Charity is idealizing. If you haven't read Charity Burbage and the Potions Master yet, I promise that you'll find the ill-tempered Snape that we all know and, er, tolerate there. ;)

I'm looking forward to seeing you again in Chapter One. I've missed this world and am so happy to be back.

-LiLa