A/N: I'd like to thank everyone who has been reading and favouriting this story, but PLEASE tell me what you think. Please feel free to leave a review, the door is always open.
ooOoo
I was once an individual, sharp and angular, you could see me from a distance. I've learned as I've gone, picked up life as I went along, now I'm well rounded but I've disappeared. Somewhere between knowledge, failure and success, I got everything off my chest, and I've disappeared.
Disappeared- Russell Crowe and Alan Doyle, feat. Danielle Spencer
ooOoo
Severus sat at his desk, attempting to grade essay after essay on Shrinking Potions and their effects if brewed incorrectly. However, this marriage law business proved to be a very significant distraction. Just as he was sure Miss Coltrane was very much against the entire thing, he could not deny that he shared the same sentiments.
Indeed, these Blood Status hearings had been used during the Wars as a means of identifying and expelling Muggleborn witches and wizards from "good" society, or, if they had been so unlucky, used as experiments for the Dark Lord's pleasure. He and Professor Dumbledore, as best they could, had tried to prevent any student from falling into his path and thus being subject to horrible things. That was not to say, however, that certain hexes and curses did not fly through the corridors in certain moments of frustration. People under extraordinary amounts of pressure were liable to snap at any time, and young people with raging hormones and plagued with fear were no exception.
Now, as the war had been over for nearly six months, he was at a loss to explain how Blood Status would have been any sort of barrier to reproduction, and why it had been written into a marriage law.
After allowing his thoughts to stray, he shifted his focus back to the business of marking essays when he heard a knock at the door.
"Come," he bit out.
The door pushed open to reveal none other than Miss Ramona Coltrane, brushing a leaf off her cloak and attempting to smooth her windswept mahogany hair.
"Good afternoon, Professor," she greeted, still brushing her hair out of her face.
"Miss Coltrane," he answered. "I trust your hearing went well."
"It depends on your definition of well, I suppose," she shrugged, biting down on her lip, a gesture he noticed immediately.
"Oh?"
"I was expecting a large trial and hearing when really, all it ended up being was a meeting with the Minister for Magic. All he really wanted to know about was family history and if I wanted children. All in all it seemed to have served its purpose."
He said nothing, setting down his quill.
"What he concluded, for all this tomfoolery, was that I have a functioning uterus and am therefore able to have children. As though I didn't know that already."
He raised an eyebrow. "Is that meant to be funny?"
"Which part? My functioning uterus or the fact that I knew it already?" she asked. "Either way, the answer is no. I just don't believe that the state of my reproductive organs is any business of the Minister's, now or ever."
"Well I cannot fault you for that," he mused. "I assume you also read what the next step is in this farce?"
She nodded, looking apprehensively at the chair sitting in front of his desk.
"You may sit," he told her.
Doing so, she slipped her coat off and hung it around the back of the chair.
"I did," she nodded, "According to the Department of… whatever it's called, Magical something and something else, I have three choices in whom I'd like to spent the rest of my life with."
"Three? Well that's more than most," he sounded almost amused as he fixed a button on his cuff that had come undone. The silence that then settled between them seemed strained and increasingly awkward.
Clearing her throat, she was somewhat relieved when he looked at her.
"The first choice was you."
He only leaned back in response, allowing her the opportunity to continue questioning him if she wished.
"Did you know about this? If your name is on my letter, surely you must have heard something."
He now had to think very carefully about his answer. Telling the truth in this instance would only serve to cause more damage. Yes, he had heard from the Ministry regarding his fate, but to tell her so would ruin any chance of maintaining a civil conversation.
"I did not," he shook his head slightly, his jaw clenched. "However, now that you know, and we now sit at this crossroads, I do have a suggestion."
"As do I," she said.
"Go on then," he held out his hand in permission, before setting his arms on the desk, leaning forward in invitation.
"I'm not fond of the second option available," she admitted. "I really enjoy the life I lead here. It's far less interesting to live life as a Muggle, as I'm sure you understand."
"Speak plainly, Miss Coltrane."
"I don't want to surrender my wand," she struggled to gather her words and force them to form a coherent sentence. "And seeing as the Ministry views you and I as a good match, could we not…"
He waited.
"Could we not… that is… could we not at least try?"
He arched his brow.
"Try to be friends, I mean?" as she spoke, she realized just how juvenile she sounded. "So far as I understand, there's nothing forbidding a marriage between friends, is there?"
"If that's so, Miss Coltrane, would you not rather approach someone who is closer to your age?"
She hung her head. "Actually, I don't have many friends," she told him.
ooOoo
So, Miss Coltrane was a social outcast, just as he was, Severus mused. If anything, that would make things more difficult. Two people, apparently friendless, could indeed find solace in each other, but it was often ill advised.
"I'm sorry for that, Miss Coltrane," he answered.
"It's not so bad, really," she shrugged. "At least when I was younger, I wasn't worrying about doing anything untoward or getting into trouble, because how can someone get into trouble if they don't have any friends? Plus it gave me plenty of time to get work done and not have to worry about petty distractions."
He knew from experience that such an attitude was not healthy. Yes, one could be a good student, but there needed to be a balance between work and play. What was that Muggle saying? "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy?" Either way, that was not the issue at hand. Ramona Coltrane had come to him for help, and, as senseless as he found the entire situation, he would do what he could.
"If I agree to this, Miss Coltrane," he began. "We must act as though nothing has changed. Until the age of June, regardless of whether or not you are of age, you are still my student, and I your professor."
"Fair enough," she agreed. "Are you sure about this?"
"No, I am not sure," he admitted, leaning back in his chair. "In fact, you now know that I find this marriage law to be entirely pointless and incredibly stupid. However, to save everyone some level of embarrassment, we might as well try."
Ramona nodded, a sense of relief spreading in the pit of her stomach.
"So what should we do now?"
"I suggest you head on back to your dormitory, Miss Coltrane. As I understand it, the train back to King's Cross will be leaving this evening to take students home for the Christmas holidays, and I would hate for you to miss it."
There was no mistaking the indifference in his voice.
ooOoo
The ride to King's Cross was one of the most uncomfortable Remy could remember. Even after getting up and walking up and down the train, finishing a reread Pride and Prejudice for the third time, and trying to have a nap, she could not settle. Her conversation with Professor Snape played over and over in her head. This agreement they had reached, how exactly could she explain it? Was it an understanding of some sort, or was it just an offer of friendship? Well, that sounded alright, but perhaps it could be called conditional friendship for the time being.
More than that, how on Earth could she tell her mother about all this? With Remy's father gone, she and her grandmother were all her mother had. How could she tell her that she faced a choice of marriage by the age of eighteen or risk expulsion from Hogwarts and all she held dear? In marrying Professor Snape, if it indeed came to that, she could only hope that he would prevent her from visiting her family, even if they were Muggles.
From King's Cross, she met her mother and grandmother outside the station and drove home to Cokeworth.
"Tell me all about school, Ramona, dear," her grandmother, Laura, called Nan, crooned from the passenger side while she curled into a ball in the back seat.
"Oh Mum, let her be," Remy's mother, Sophie, hushed her as she drove through a green light. "She's home until January. There'll be plenty of time to talk, won't there, honey?"
"Yes Mum," Remy answered as she yawned and closed her eyes, allowing the motion of the car to rock her to sleep.
ooOoo
For all Remy knew, she hadn't said a word to anyone since she'd gotten home, and no wonder, having slept until the next morning. She'd had just enough strength the night before to get herself up the stairs to her bedroom, change into pajamas, and then crawl into bed.
"Well look who decided to show her face," she heard as she came down the stairs and into the kitchen.
"Good morning Nan," she smiled, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Is there tea made?"
"On the counter in the red teapot, love."
"Oooh, the good china. Aren't I lucky?"
"Cheeky," the older woman smiled, giving her granddaughter a hug. "You slept clear through. You're not ill, are you?"
"No, Nan, I promise," Remy made her way over to the teapot and searched the cupboard overhead for a mug. "Where's Mum?"
"Grocery shop, love," she answered. "You didn't think we'd let you starve while you were home, did you?"
"Of course not," Remy poured milk into her mug first before picking up the teapot. "I didn't realize I'd slept so long."
"You were exhausted, dear," Laura answered as she got up from the kitchen table and back over the stove. Opening the oven door, she reached in and pulled out a warmed plate for her. "There's also flapjacks if you're interested."
"Actually, Nan," Remy took a sip of her tea, grimacing as the too hot liquid briefly scalded her tongue. "I'll just have tea for now. My mouth tastes like I licked the sidewalk, and I look like I just rolled out from under the rubbish bin, so I'll go wash."
"Don't be licking sidewalks, Ramona, that's terribly unhygienic."
Remy laughed in spite of herself as she went back up the stairs to the bathroom, mug of tea in hand.
ooOoo
It took a few days before Remy was able to settle back into a routine of being home. She'd shared enough of what had happened between September and when she had come home to satisfy Nan's curiosity (never mind conveniently forgetting to tell her about the marriage law and her understanding with Professor Snape), and had taken her clunker of a car out of the garage. She'd taken her Muggle driving test the summer before, and had practiced as much as possible while on holidays home.
Sticking the key in the ignition, Remy back the car out of the driveway and set off. With no particular destination in mind, there was no harm in exploring, was there?
Turning down onto a street she'd never been down before, she drove very cautiously, as she assumed there would be young children playing about, building snowmen and having snowball fights, or otherwise simply sliding skeleton on toboggans down the street since it was so icy.
It seemed perfectly logical to expect these things during Christmas holidays home, and, somehow it comforted her. Turning onto another winding street, the one person she hadn't expected to see who she thought to be Severus Snape wrapped in a long coat and dark scarf walking down the sidewalk, past all the children and their wintertime activities, taking no notice of the falling snow.
Hoping to all Gods past and present that she was seeing things, she rounded the corner and made her way toward the (hopefully reasonably plowed and passable) country roads. Checking her petrol gauge, she conceivably had enough to take her straight to Calais if she wished. That wasn't a bad idea, really. Drive until she could forget the entire thing. Move to France, change her name, and start over completely.
Still irrationally spooked, she drove until she could safely pull over, put her head on the steering wheel, and steady her breathing.
"Easy, Remy," she told herself. "You did not just see Severus Snape in your neighbourhood. There's no way he would be home from school yet, if he even lives in Cokeworth at all. Relax… you're fine. He's not there."
Without any warning, she wretched out a single sob. That single sob became a scream of frustration, and, unable to stop herself, she banged her open palm on the steering wheel, screaming until the elephant sitting on her chest temporarily shifted to the pit of her stomach.
