In early March of the following spring, Moira Eileen Dyson was welcomed into the world. Much to the relief of her anxious parents, she had ten fingers, ten toes, and a spirit uniquely her own.
It had been a difficult pregnancy. If the constant worry about potentially harboring the reincarnation of the Dark Lord had not been enough stress, the dreadful morning sickness compounded with the incessant doting of the father-to-be was enough make Ophelia crazier than she had been during the height of her haunting. Snape insisted she move to Spinner's End for the duration of the pregnancy, fearing that the Death Eaters would come looking for her at her family's property.
Ophelia had been in denial about the conception at first. While she had not planned to become a mother at this particular stage in her life, she found it impossible to deny Snape his opportunity for offspring.
"I am terrified, Professor."
"You may drop the formalities, Ophelia. I hope you will be able to see me as more than just your former potions professor and allow me to support you…" Snape paused as he broke eye contact with her. "In whatever you should choose…"
Ophelia's abilities decreased after her haunting ended, but she could still sense the aching behind the words. She wanted nothing more than to run far away and start over, but his words made her reconsider. After several days of deep contemplation beneath the willow tree she made up her mind to continue the pregnancy, but her fears continued. Her dreams were still inundated with visions of Voldemort, and the temptations of the dark power she had once given in to.
Being cooped up together in the small row house made for quick tempers and short fuses.
"Honestly, Severus, I do not understand why I can't go to my appointment alone. Do you not trust me to return?"
"Of course I trust you. It is everyone else that makes me uncomfortable." He paused for a moment. "Besides, you know how much this all fascinates me."
Ophelia sighed. "I know. However, I haven't had a moment away from you in over four months! I need some space." She threw her arms in the air in annoyance. She went from complete absence of human contact while stuck on magical house arrest to not being able to find a moment to herself. It was too much for her to handle.
"Do not be upset. It isn't healthy," he replied softly. He tried to put his arms around her, but she pushed him away and rolled her eyes in response. "Fine, go by yourself if you wish." He turned to leave the room.
"Wait! I want you to be there. Please join me."
He shook his head and placed one hand at his temple, gently rubbing. "Must we really endure five more months of this absurdity?" She responded with a piercing, angry glare.
"Stop fretting about it," Snape told her in a silky smooth voice when he walked in on her in front of the mirror once again scrutinizing her ever-rounding abdomen.
"Easy for you to say!" She looked away so that he could not see the tears welling up in her eyes.
He cornered her and took her forcibly into his arms. "You are foolish to find anything but beauty and power in this form." His hands drifted across her swollen shape.
She sighed as she relaxed into him. "I know…"
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Snape was relieved to find that Ophelia no longer had control over the Dark Mark. In fact, the Mark had faded progressively over the past six months. He hoped that the other Death Eaters were finding the same thing.
He was beginning to get impatient. Waking Ophelia from her nightmares each night to comfort her was only highlighting how slowly the days were moving. Each new morning brought him momentary guilt as he wondered if she felt obligated to go through this tribulation for him. Nonetheless, there were moments that made up for it all.
"Oh… wow…" Ophelia exclaimed stopping in her tracks one morning as she descended the stairs for breakfast.
"What is it?" He made no attempt to hide his concern as he jumped onto the same step and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Feel!" She quickly grasped his hand and placed it onto her abdomen. He felt nothing unusual, but she forced his hand to remain in place. Then he gasped as he felt the light bump against his palm.
"Incredible…" he whispered as emotions threatened to overwhelm him.
Nothing about their situation had been straightforward. Because he preferred that the world still believed him dead, they rarely left his home. On the rare occasions that they did venture out they often employed a disillusionment charm, and he would use the Dyson surname when necessary to avoid awkward stares. It had taken him weeks to locate a magical midwife that he not only trusted but felt would not recognize him. Furthermore, she consistently refused his offers to make her his wife.
"I am not going to marry you simply to keep up appearances, Severus. Besides, you're dead, remember?"
"That is not the point," he replied softly, holding back his frustration.
"Then what is the point?" She rolled her eyes and sighed. It was moments like these that reminded him of the age difference between them.
"The point is that it is what you deserve."
"How romantic…" her voice dripped with sarcasm as she left the room.
He sighed.
"You will be an amazing father," she whispered to him one morning as they lay together in bed enjoying the warm sunlight through the window with their hands on her growing bump.
"Did you have your doubts?" He raised an eyebrow wondering what had inspired her seemingly random comment.
"Not at all, but I sense that you have had some recently," her hand stroked his arm softly.
It still disturbed him how well she could read him. "You are correct." The closer the impending birth came, the stronger his doubts became. Now with less than a month to go, he was almost in a constant state of self-doubt.
"Time will prove me right. Try not to worry." She smiled.
Finally the day arrived. After Ophelia endured nearly 8 hours of painful contractions, Snape was feeling guiltier than ever, but she only laughed when he expressed his thoughts to her. After almost an hour of difficult pushing however, she admitted that he should feel guilty. This time he laughed at her.
Once the birthing process had ended and the new baby was safely tucked into her mother's arms, Snape looked at Ophelia and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. "Marry me," he asked as he pleaded her with his eyes.
She sighed. She was clearly exhausted which he was hoping would work to his advantage. He looked down at their child and back at her. "Stop being so stubborn."
"Take me away somewhere where we don't have to live in hiding."
"I have already arranged a wonderful place in South France should you wish it…"
Her eyes widened, and she stared down at the dark-haired newborn in her arms. "How did you know I would say yes?"
"Are you saying yes?"
"Yes, of course," she laughed.
"Then it matters not," he grinned.
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A/N: The "Moirae" are the three Moon-Goddess Sisters of Fate in Greek Mythology so Moira (Moy-rah) means "fate", and it is also conveniently Celtic for "dark-haired."
Thank you to all who reviewed or private messaged me about this story. I appreciate all the feedback, even the criticism. Please keep it coming. I promise to be a good sport. Also, let me know if there are any loose ends hanging about that you would like to see tied up. Thank you all again!