Friday, September 22nd, 2006 - Sherwood Forest - England
Severus Snape was intrigued. Abby had brought him several varieties of plant material, native to the United States – but not seen in Great Britain in quite a long time. He had carefully transplanted the cuttings into properly prepared soil in his personal greenhouse, going out every day to check on them and make sure they were taking root.
He loved his little corner of the world. His property edged up on the forest on two sides with open meadow to the front all the way to the main road, which was hidden behind a high cobblestone fence and overgrown hedgerows. His two storey cottage had a quaint thatched roof, a huge walk-in fireplace that had been hooked up to the floo network, a flag-stoned kitchen that would have made Molly Weasley jealous with all the room it had and the appliances he'd had installed, and the room that had sold him on the place – an original still-room, stone encased, built in glass-fronted overhead cupboards, it's own sink and stove, and a large black, soapstone table that was a delight to work on. It had a walk-in cupboard that immediately became his ingredient room – one of the most extensively stocked private collections. A door in an outside wall led to the attached green house that appeared to have been built during the Victorian era with fancy grillwork buttressing the glass roof and walls. At the far end of this treasure house was another egress that led to his gardens where he cultivated rare plants for sale and his own usage.
The analyses that Sciuto had given him promised good things for some of his experiments. If only it hadn't come with the caveat that he was now revealed to the community at large as not being deceased. It had been quite liberating the past eight years to be absent from politics and dunderheads; both Masters being dead and unable to manipulate his life and emotions any longer. He had finally managed some measure of relaxation and – dare he think – positive outlook for his life. Being his own master was frankly liberating.
If he wanted to sleep in, he could; if he wanted to lock himself away in his lab for days straight, barely even coming out to eat, he could. If he wanted to get pissed on elf wine and run around the house in his skivvies, he could – without worrying that Minerva would walk in through the door. If he wanted to just take off and Apparate somewhere on a whim, he could do it without any repercussions or the third degree from annoying colleagues and headmasters.
He had grown the Vandyke to disguise himself somewhat, and he had taken to wearing more comfortable clothes; no longer dressing exclusively in his black professorial garb that hid potion stains – and blood – most effectively. He no longer needed to intimidate students with his billowing robes and stern demeanour.
But Abby had let it slip he was alive. He couldn't blame her – he'd never specifically told her that no one knew he wasn't alive, and apparently everyone else assumed she had heard the news of his demise in the shack. A comedy of errors all around - bound to fall down around his ears one day, and that day had arrived.
Abby had given several different varieties of each sample – some cuttings for transplanting, and then individual ingredient parts for him to experiment with while waiting for the cuttings to grow and be fruitful.
He wandered into his lab and pulled down a small pewter cauldron, pouring in some neutral base and setting a flame up underneath to gently heat the base. He didn't want this one to boil.
Walking over to his abundant ingredient cupboard, he entered the cavernous, cool room and began to direct jars of ingredients out the open door and to line up on the counter near the cauldron. He went to the drying rack next and plucked up some of the roots she had provided him with, then accio-ed his personal potions journal and began to dictate to his Quick Quotes Quill his process. He absently flicked his finger at an old wireless sitting on a back shelf and the strains of Vivaldi's Four Seasons wafted gently around the room as he began chopping, shredding and stirring.
Hours later he was staring at the neat little row of vials with a clear green liquid inside of them while sipping on some tea.
That had been a satisfying afternoon. He glanced over at the clock that hung over the door – oops, correction: that had been a satisfying afternoon, evening and early morning. He glanced out the window over his lab sink; there was the sun just beginning to peek over the eastern horizon.
He grinned to himself before yawning and banishing the cup of tepid tea to the kitchen sink for a later wash-up. That was why he preferred being a bachelor and no longer teaching; he did not need to answer to anyone why he was just going to bed when the sun was coming up.
"Severus! Severus Snape!"
Unless, of course, that someone was Abby Sciuto and it was Saturday morning.
Oh, shite.
Saturday.
Morning.
Potter's naming ceremony. He groaned as he headed into the parlour.
"Sciuto, for Merlin's sake it is five a.m!" he complained.
"Yes, and I know you; you've been up playing with your chemistry set. I wanted to make sure you take a stimulant to stay awake for the ceremony. Don't forget: ten o'clock at the Burrow!"
"And what are you doing up at this hour?" he asked, ignoring her disparaging remark about his lab; this was a long-running joke between them, discounting each other's labs and their effectiveness.
"I'm always up this early!" she said brightly, her pigtails dancing in the firelight and setting off sparks.
"Go away, Abigail – I'll be there," he tossed over his shoulder as he walked away.
"See ya!" Her head disappeared from the flames and he wearily dragged his body to the bedroom, falling down on the bed without bothering to undress, or get under the covers, and belatedly setting an alarm to wake him at nine-thirty before passing out. His last conscious thought was maybe he'd be lucky and die in his sleep so that he wouldn't have to legitimately face Molly.
Saturday, September 23rd, 2006 – The Burrow - England
Molly Weasley was in her element; all of her children would be there today, and she was cooking up a storm. Arthur had made the mistake of wandering into the kitchen to grab a cup of tea and had nearly had his head shaved by a knife flying through the air to begin cutting carrots on the chopping board.
He beat a hasty retreat and disappeared into his Quonset hut for the rest of the morning, tinkering on various projects, until he heard the children arrive.
He peeked out, grinning as he saw a sea of redheads interspersed with brown, black and golden yellow and deemed it safe to return to civilisation.
Ginny was walking around showing off the lace bedecked bundle in her arms, Harry hovering in the background and accepting back-slaps from his brothers-in-law. Hermione had ensconced herself on the ground with a pile of pillows, under a weeping willow, and was surrounded by toddlers who were happy to play with the toys scattered there in the gentle autumn sunlight.
Abby was watching Teddy, who was flying on a junior Quidditch broom – clearly intrigued and wishing she was magical enough to try out the mode of transportation. The broom's charms did not allow the child to go above eight feet in the air, and Junior matches only had one hoop to guard, and the balls were softer and the snitch slower. But, it was good training for later.
"You'd break your neck," was whispered in her ear and she whirled around, startled, but the surprise was replaced by a grin, her eyes crinkling in joy, as she gave Severus a quick hug.
"Are you awake?" she asked jokingly, keeping a hold on one of his hands.
"Barely," was the terse reply. "However, when I arrived I was nearly choked to death by Molly Weasley. For a woman nearly sixty years old, she still has the strength of a woman half her age!"
"Well you don't seem the worse for wear. Teddy, straighten up there!" she called out as Teddy wobbled in the midst of a sharp turn. "I believe some of your former teaching colleagues are here," she pointed out. Snape obligingly looked over to a group of older people gathered under the willow near Hermione. Sure enough, he spotted Hagrid – who took up a love seat all to himself, and it was showing the strain – McGonagall, Flitwick as well as Pomfrey, who was fussing over the expectant mother.
"You should probably go say hello. I heard them earlier and they were excited about seeing you again. Uh, oh – looks like you've been spotted," she warned. And indeed, Minerva had spotted him, her sharp eyes zeroing in on him like laser beams.
He groaned, but gave in to the inevitable and, after raising Abby's hand to kiss it – delighting in the blush he put on her cheeks, strode over to the little group, bending down to kiss the venerable witch on her cheek after greeting Pomfrey the same way.
"Minerva, you are looking well," he complimented warmly, squeezing her hands once in greeting.
"Severus – if you were still a student, I would dock you so many points..." she said warningly, but couldn't hold her stern face any longer. Instead, he was shocked when she broke down in tears and hastily sat beside her, surprised when she gathered him in for a fierce hug. She eventually accepted his offered handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.
"How could you..." she started. "I mean, it must've been so hard for you... Why didn't you contact us at all?" she railed, settling her glare on him, reminding him for a moment of when he'd been a student; although it lost a lot of its potency in her concern for him.
"I truly didn't think anyone would want to speak to me again – not after what I had to do," he quietly offered as explanation, eyebrow raised in honest surprise.
"Possibly, before we knew what had been going on – but afterwards? I know it was what we were supposed to think, I understand that; but I hated thinking that you had gone to your death without us acknowledging your own sacrifices, Severus." She patted him on the knee and, from her, he accepted the gesture for what it was – an assurance he was alive and sitting right there in front of her. "And I was so grateful when Harry told us you'd be here today, that you had actually survived. We owe you so much, Severus... and I, for one, would like to say how sorry I am for how I treated you, and to thank you." She reached over to once again embrace him, letting him hide his reddening face behind her massive bun.
He awkwardly patted her on the back, never being one who was comfortable with emotional displays, before releasing her and sat back to catch up with his former colleagues.
Abby watched from the field with Teddy flying above her, glad that the reunion had gone well.
Soon it was noon, and the hour for the blessing and naming ceremony. Ron had helped his wife up as they were standing as Godparents for the new baby and Severus escorted Pomfrey and Minerva over to the gathering. Ginny walked over to him and handed the bundle to her ex-professor. "Sir, if you would join us, please, in the circle?"
Severus looked as if he'd been given a live grenade; but, when the baby didn't protest his handling, he settled the sleeping babe in his arms and stiffly walked over to stand near Potter as Arthur came forward to announce the blessing.
Holding his hand on top of Albus' head he intoned:
"Blessed be your spirit.
May you always have health in spirit.
May you be whole.
Blessed be your spirit.
May you always have community.
May you be prosperous in all ways.
May you love and be loved.
May your voice -
both your complaints and your special offerings to the world -
be truly heard.
May you always be surrounded by the warmth of family and community.
May you know the innate goodness of your being.
Blessed Be."1
The entire group murmured "Blessed Be" in response. Harry and Ginny came up and each laid a hand on the baby.
Ginny spoke up first. "I name thee Albus, in memory of Albus Dumbledore – probably the greatest wizard alive in the last two centuries. May his blessings anoint thee, this day. To watch over you, I name you a godmother: Hermione Granger-Weasley, in case I should be unable to raise you until your majority." Hermione joined her hand on top of Ginny's and a gentle flare of magic engulfed their hands and seemed to sink into Albus' skin. He just sighed in his sleep as Severus held perfectly still, afraid that any movement would wake him.
It was Harry's turn next. "I name thee Severus, in honour of the bravest man I ever knew: Severus Snape..." Severus' eyes snapped up and stared into Harry's green ones that held his without blinking; impressing upon the older man his sincerity. "... Without whom, I and my family would arguably not be here today. May his blessings anoint thee, this day." Harry's hand slipped down to lay on top of one of Snape's. "And to watch over you, I name for you two godfathers: Severus Snape and Ronald Bilius Weasley, in case I should be unable to raise you until your majority." Ron's hand joined the other two and the magic again wrapped around the participants, binding them in their promises amidst the rustles of whispers from the onlookers. Abby had looked around with a glare on her face, daring anyone to naysay her friend's appointment as godfather to his namesake.
The ceremony done, the participants scattered over to the groaning tables that held all the food Molly had spent the week preparing. Harry gently reached for Albus, but found that his son had a firm grip on Snape's finger.
"Leave him be, Potter. If you try to detach him now, he'll awaken. I'll just head back over there for now," Severus said, nodding his head over to the willow seating area where the teachers had once again gathered, this time with loaded plates. "I'm sure the ladies would love to have him within their grasp," he teased.
"If you're sure, sir... I... ah, that was a split second decision, sir. It's just honorary..."
"Potter, stop stammering. If I didn't want to accept it, the magic wouldn't have taken. However, I do intend to have an active part in his education – and James, as well. No godson of mine – or his brother – will enter Hogwarts without a firm grounding in the basics!" he declared.
Harry tried hard to hide his grin, but was unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. "Of course not, sir; I wouldn't want it any other way."
Snape held his gaze for a moment before snorting and turning to walk away. "Get me some tea, Potter," he tossed over his shoulder while casting an awed look at the sleeping child in his arms.
Harry stood still for a moment watching the dark man, arguably one of the scariest men he'd ever known, handle Harry's son as if he was a precious package of gold eggs, transfiguring one of the old chairs into a cushioned rocker and slowly sitting down so as not to wake the boy.
Harry chuckled to himself then went off to get the man his requested tea and a plate of biscuits.
1 Francesca De Grandis, copyright 1996
