13 – Revelations
I had received a handful of owls from Severus over the past few months. They were short, just notes really, saying nothing of importance but reassuring that he was thinking of me. I desperately wanted to tell him about the baby, but I knew that Albus was right. As much as I wanted Severus with me, things were getting increasingly tense with Voldemort. The attacks on the Wizard community, and in some cases the Muggle community, were becoming more frequent, and more violent, and Severus was in the thick of it.
However, I needed to let the news out somehow, so, on Saturday morning, near the end of October, I decided to take the bull by the horns, so to speak. Gathering my courage, I headed to the village. The thought of gooey cinnamon buns had me nearly floating all the way there.
As I approached the Campta's Bakery, I stopped, wondering how to phrase what needed to be said, but as I caught my reflection in the shop window, I figured that I'd let things unfold for themselves. My burgundy sweater was pulled over loose fitting maternity pants. There was no hiding it now. I was obviously pregnant.
Upon entering the bakery, I was struck by the smell of freshly baked bread, yeast and … mmmm …cinnamon. The little bell tinkled overhead bringing me back into focus.
"Buon giorno, Signora Campta," I greeted with a nervous smile.
Signora Campta had her back to me, placing fresh rolls onto a tray on a shelf. "Buon giorno, Daniella," she called over her shoulder. "I'll be with you in a moment."
As she stepped down from the low stool, she turned and gasped, "Daniella!"
"Signora Campta," I replied, smiling sheepishly.
"Daniella," she repeated a bit louder, completely stunned.
"Dorotea?" Signore Campta called from the kitchen, a bit alarmed at hearing his wife's tone.
"Antonio!" Signora Campta cried out, her hand coming to her mouth, eyes wide.
"Dorotea?" he questioned as he quickly entered the shop. "Daniella," he greeted briefly with a nod, going to his wife's side.
"Signore Campta," I replied, still shyly smiling.
"Daniella?" he gasped suddenly as he did a double-take and turned to face me. I could see the colour rising in his face as his lips tightened.
"Antonio."
"Dorotea."
"Daniella?" they questioned simultaneously.
"Severus," I finally said trying to suppress a giggle at the comedy of the situation.
"Severus? That dark man you introduced us to months ago? We haven't seen him since. Why is he not here? He should be here with you! He should take responsibility." Signore Campta began to rage, shaking his finger at me.
"Does he even know?" Signora Campta asked more gently, the shock beginning to subside.
"No," I replied sadly. "His job, at the moment, demands his full attention. He has written, but I haven't told him of my condition."
"He has the right to know!" Signore Campta commanded loudly. The redness from his face was draining into his neck, and I could see the tendons beginning to bulge.
"I know he does, and I want to tell him, but he would jeopardize everything that he has worked for if he knew. I can't let that happen. He's worked too hard. If all goes well, I'll be able to tell him soon," I calmly assured.
"Come, dear," Signora Campta called motherly as she motioned for me to follow her into their home, which was attached to the shop. "Come and sit. I want to hear everything."
The afternoon was spent in the Campta's sitting room talking with Signora Campta. They had help in the shop on Saturdays, but Signore Campta liked to keep an eye on things himself, so he went back and forth between the shop and us.
I couldn't tell them much, and I didn't want to lie, but I did apologize for not telling them sooner. I explained that Severus' job was important and took him away often, but he had returned to visit several times before the pregnancy was confirmed. We just didn't come into town. Knowing that our time was limited, we wanted to spend all available time alone.
Signora Campta nodded with understanding, and Signore Campta was beginning to calm down. He was just being protective. However, he still paced the small sitting room shaking his head and insisting that a man had the right to know if he had fathered a child and that Severus had to take responsibility. I agreed, but explained again that if Severus' attention were distracted at the moment, then all he had worked for would be for nothing. I promised to tell him as soon as possible.
I received an owl from Albus the following week. Voldemort had identified several members of the Order of the Phoenix and was beginning to focus his aggression on those they loved. No one was safe. Arthur was busy identifying Dark Lord and Order supporters at the Ministry. Alastor was tracking Death Eaters. James and Sirius were working to gather more supporters within the Wizard community, and Remus was trying to persuade the other werewolves to follow the Order, but most were too afraid of Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf who had bitten most of them. Greyback was a strong supporter of Voldemort and kept the pack in fear for their lives. It was Remus' job to convince them that they would be better off following Albus.
Albus had, also, met with Severus, and things seemed to be easing up. With Voldemort's attention elsewhere, Severus was able to infiltrate other ranks and circles and talk with some of the other supporters, finding out names that he hadn't known before and passing misinformation on to the other Death Eaters from the Order. Voldemort had also instructed Severus to continue with his experiments on poisons and corrosives. It was thought that he might use these as crude forms of torture or a safeguard for more artefacts that he was trying to protect. The exact reason was uncertain.
The information that I had forwarded about the Giants was greatly appreciated, and now the others could deal with what was happening with them. Albus had a herd of Centaurs living on Hogwarts' grounds and had spoken to their leader requesting support. The Centaurs didn't want to back anyone, but the herd at Hogwarts' and the herd that I had contacted in Greece seemed to indicate an allegiance to me and Albus, personally.
Albus also advised that I continue to keep the pregnancy a secret. He feared that if others
knew about the baby and the news slipped to the wrong ears, we would be in danger. I understood his concern, but how he expected me to keep a nearly full-term pregnancy a secret was beyond me! I couldn't charm it hidden. I couldn't Transfigure it into a hamster. People would know…soon...and I was getting very tired of expending energy to hide it! I needed all the energy I had just to get up in the morning!
I sat in a spare cubicle in the main section on the second floor of the Ministry reviewing some notes early one morning. Most of the working surface of the lab, at the present time, was covered with ongoing experiments in various stages of development. I had arrived early to check on one of the potions and listened as the office began to fill for the day.
"Her Highness is off again tonight," I overheard a high-pitched, haughty voice announce to whoever was listening.
"Where to now?" another voice called out.
"Don't know. Don't care," the first responded as a chair scraped against the tile floor.
"Have you noticed how fat she's gotten since she started here?" a third voice joined in giggling.
"Must be all that rich food she eats when she's away," laughed the haughty voice.
"Potions Mistress. Hmmph. She hardly talks to anyone. Thinks she's better than the rest of us," another voice added.
"I don't know about that. I've never seen her smile. She comes off as really quiet, almost unhappy," a mousy voice seemed to defend me.
"What does she have to be unhappy about? She's young, gorgeous, brilliant, has a job that lets her come and go as she pleases, and gets paid a bundle," the haughty voice listed crisply.
"True, but have you ever watched her. She's so focused on what she does and look at how many potions she's updated and advanced in the three months that she's been here? Give her some credit. We haven't exactly been friendly either," responded the gentle voice.
So, that's what they thought of me. I wasn't completely ignored after all.
The banter subsided, and the voices seemed to drift on their way to their own workspaces. I quickly gathered my notes and left the cubicle, almost running into a plain, young woman with pin-straight black hair wearing dark grey work robes. She startled and took a quick step back. My face was impassive as I held my notes tightly in my arms, facing her.
"Oh, Gods," she gasped. "You heard."
I gave a curt nod but held my head proudly.
"Oh, Gods," she gasped again as her eyes dropped. "You're pregnant."
I abruptly pulled my outer work robe closed.
"I'm so sorry. They can be such hags," she said softly.
"Energies issued out will be returned three-fold," I replied quietly, my face still without expression, but I was feeling the hurt. "If you'll excuse me, I have work to do," I stated as I lowered my head slightly and brushed past her on the way to the lab.
"Mistress Di Marco, I really am sorry," she repeated softly, a blush beginning to burn her cheeks.
I stopped and turned to look at her, my voice calm, "Don't worry about it. From what I heard, you defended me, and I'm grateful. I do keep to myself. Rumours are bound to develop, but this," I pointed to my stomach, "I would rather keep to myself for now. Please."
"Sure," she answered with an embarrassed smile. "And if you need anything, please, let me know."
"Thank you." I smiled back at her, then continued my path to the lab.
The Society of Potions Masters had scheduled a symposium at their Manor House on the outskirts of London for that evening. It promised to be stimulating as there planned to be several speakers on a variety of topics.
Alchemist Damocles Belby was scheduled to discuss his work on lycanthrope. Belby wasn't a Potions Master but had an interest in how lycanthropy worked and its physical effect on the body. It would be fascinating to hear what he had to say.
The other topics for the evening included: an introduction to newly discovered plants from Tibet and Nepal and some new research on: why witches live longer than wizards.
Knowing the abysmal November weather of London, I dressed in a navy velvet Empress gown with matching cloak to protect myself from the damp and cold. A Portkey had been arranged to take me from the Ministry to the tulip garden at the right of the manor house, just as Master Lindstrom and I had done many months ago. I couldn't Apparate such a long distance, at the present time, and would never Portkey from my home. That was a safe zone, and I refused to have it breached.
Upon arriving at the garden, I had to rest on a nearby stone bench for a while to settle my upset stomach. Although I had been feeling much better lately, any sort of magical travel left me feeling dizzy and nauseous. As I sat, I glanced around, remembering the last time that I was here: Severus' induction ceremony. That seemed so long ago. The garden was dreary now, and devoid of greenery. There was nothing but empty rock gardens and dirt beds waiting for spring and summer to give them life again. I began to miss Severus terribly. Drawing the cloak tightly around my body as a chill breeze swept through the garden, I shook my head to clear it, and noting that my stomach had finally settled, gathered myself to proceed into the Manor House.
Walking the length on the gravel path, I observed that the grand, front doors were closed, but as guests approached, they magically opened, sensing the invitation.
Setting a light Vagueness Charm and adjusting my cloak, I climbed the broad staircase and entered the brightly lit entrance hall, giving a quick glace around the black and white room: spiral stairs to the right, big fireplace to the left, three doors-left, right and center…I remembered. Before I could continue, however, a familiar little house-elf stood before me; eyes bulging with recognition, hands extended, and a big smile expanded on its face.
"May I take your cloak, Mistress?" it asked formally.
"Hello." I smiled back. "I remember you. How are you?"
If house-elves could blush, I think this one was.
"I is fine, Mistress," it replied delightedly. "Your cloak, Mistress?" it repeated, hands still extended.
"Thank you," I returned as the cloak slipped from my shoulders, and was handed it to the elf.
"If Mistress is needin' anything tonight, she is to ask Pinky, if that pleases Mistress," the elf said formally.
"Thank you, Pinky. I does please me." I smiled at the diminutive elf again.
The house-elf bowed deeply, grinning from floppy ear to floppy ear, and scurried off with my cloak clutched securely against its chest. I headed toward the open door and the gathering of Potions Masters and Mistresses and their guests inside.
With my recent travels and research, I was well acquainted with many in attendance, and my light Vagueness Charm was only a preventative measure to put some of their memories of me into the shadows, not to totally block me out.
As I took a glass of wine from a passing elf, I began to mingle with my colleagues, both pleasant and social as well as the more questionable and surly. Hmm, yes, Severus was there, his chin held high, hiding behind that curtain of lank, dark hair, snarling at anyone and anything that came too close. My hand instinctively moved to my abdomen, and the baby chose that moment to move.
Wonderful, I thought sarcastically as I shifted from foot to foot. This was going to be an interesting evening.
Master Castwell, Chairwizard of the Society, entered a few moments later, inviting us into the reception room. The symposium was to begin shortly. Finding a comfortable seat in the back, I sat with the material of the dress gathered over and around my lap to hide my condition.
The symposium began with the "Witch Verse Wizard Lifespan" research. It was entertaining and light, and the researcher made several amusing comments. However, he did, at one point, make a rather derogatory remark about how witches' lives were so much easier than wizards', and this triggered an elderly witch in the middle of the gathering to pipe up, quite loudly, that he should try giving birth some day and raise that child to maturity. The audience and researcher laughed while she added to her neighbour, "Well, he should."
The next speaker discussed a variety of new plants that he had discovered on his latest travels to Tibet and Nepal. He chose several specimens to show us and explained how they could be used to enhance a variety of existing potions. I found this fascinating, as it was exactly what I did at the Italian Ministry and what I was doing in my private research.
Finally, Democles Belby took the podium. He was a middle-aged wizard with chestnut coloured hair and peppered sideburns. He wasn't very tall, and the dais magically shrank to accommodate his height. Adjusting his round, wire-frame glasses on his nose before speaking, his tenor voice began to explain how he became involved in the study of lycanthrope. The monthly change from human to werewolf was physically and mentally demanding on those afflicted, and Belby hypothesised that the biological and physical stress on the muscles and tendons, as well as on the heart, would shorten the lifespan of the afflicted witch or wizard. He was adamant in pointing out that these people were not werewolves by choice but were the unfortunate victims of a violent attack. He expressed his intent to find a cure so that those afflicted could lead some semblance of a normal life. Unfortunately, however, he had been unsuccessful in convincing any werewolves to allow themselves to be studied in depth. I think it had something to do with his approach. As much as I was in awe of his theory, he came off as arrogant and cocky. I was determined to speak with him after the symposium.
When the crowd moved back into the main room, clusters of curious witches and wizards gathered around the speakers offering congratulations, asking questions, and making general remarks and comments about their work. I waited, patiently, for the crowd around Mr. Belby to dissipate before approaching. Finally, I saw him extricate himself from a badgering old wizard and make his way to the refreshment table. I followed.
"Your hypothesis on the physical strain on the heart was one I had not heard before but always thought was critical. It's good to see someone recognize it," I began, reaching for the fruit platter.
He looked at me, puzzled, as he held a glass of champagne in one hand and a canapé in the other.
"You actually understood what I was talking about, dear?" he asked condescendingly.
"Why yes, darling," I smiled with false sweetness. "All those big words are so fascinating." I wondered if anyone would notice if he received a swift kick to the shins, but a saving voice approached from behind.
"Ah, Mr. Belby, I see you've met one of the Society's brightest stars." Master Castwell puffed his chest out proudly. "Mistress Di Marco has the honoured distinction of being the youngest Potions Mistress in the Society… and in Wizard history. She works with the Italian Ministry of Magic in the Experimental Potions lab."
"Really?" Belby replied a bit flustered, his expression quickly changing from condescending to curious. "My apologies, Mistress. I didn't know."
My smile was genuine this time. "No harm done. I couldn't help but have a bit of fun with you…dear." I chuckled at the last word.
He snorted a laugh, and we chatted for a while about his theory and other possible approaches of exploration. I had a few ideas of my own but was unwilling to share them at the moment. As we talked, I received an uncomfortable feeling from him. His ideas were impressive, but I didn't quite trust him. There was an overwhelming and conflicting sense of self-serving.
Slowly, others began to approach the refreshment table, and as our conversation began to wind down, another couple took over, and I was able to back away without much notice.
Master Castwell had sauntered off to the other side of the room, and several witches arrived chatting about the "Witch Verses Wizard Lifespan" speech. Severus also arrived with the leering wizard who always seemed to find me at these functions, and I tried to involve myself with the witches' conversation to avoid his attentions.
"Gods, she's something!" I overheard the leering wizard drool to Severus. "You two are near the same age. Have you …ah… "talked" with her?" he questioned lasciviously.
Severus sneered and glanced in my direction briefly. I was turned with most of my back to him. "She's beneath me," his baritone voice oozed with arrogance.
"Gods, man. Look at those curves. I'd love to have her beneath me!" the leering wizard voiced a bit too loud and drew attention to himself. "What?" he replied innocently to the condemning stares.
I tried to ignore the byplay between the two and continued listening to the witches' banter about the benefits and drawbacks of men.
"You know what I mean, don't you, love?" an older witch asked me, nudging her head toward the leering wizard. "It's difficult enough without ignorant comments, but you do look lovely, in your condition. I had a dress very similar to that when I was carrying my son. Most comfortable piece of clothing I owned. Wore it every chance I got. How far along are you? I wager five, maybe six months?"
"Six," I answered quietly, quickly glancing around to see if anyone, especially Severus, overheard.
"Six!" she exclaimed loudly. "You look fabulous!"
At that, Severus shot a look at me, and then lowered his eyes to my waistline. His scowl intensified, and the leering wizard chose that moment to make another crude remark. As Severus turned to stare him down, I made a hasty exit to the flower garden. I didn't want a confrontation in a crowded room.
Quickly heading down the gravel path to the assigned Portkey garden, I heard the crunch of feet on stone rapidly approach from the rear. Before I could completely turn around, I was firmly seized by my left upper arm and spun nearly off balance. Instinctively, my projective hand raised and hit my assailant in the chest, sending him staggering backward with a Repelling Hex. Before I could regain my composure, I came face to face with a narrow-eyed, snarling, furious Severus Snape. He roughly grabbed my upper arms and shoved me into a small alcove off the path, slamming my back hard against the narrow stone wall, winding me. I was shocked by the violence of the attack and was unable to respond.
"Bloody wench," he spat, slamming me again. "I trusted you. I trusted you!"
He was shaking, and I could feel pain emanating from him, but what was he talking about?
"Was I a challenge? Someone to stop the loneliness? What was it Daniella? What?!" he angrily demanded, not letting go.
My back was solidly against the wall, and I couldn't move. Severus leaned forward and aggressively assaulted my mouth with a bruising kiss, his teeth nipping and biting across my jaw and down my throat, marking me. I tried pushing him off but couldn't get leverage.
Severus, stop! He stopped and leaned back slightly.
"You played me for a fool," he hissed in my ear as his hands ran the length of my torso and settled on the baby. "How could you betray me? Was he good? Was it worth it?"
He growled, and his lip curled in disgust as he felt the bulge. Letting go as if touching a flame and thrusting me back against the wall again, he spun on his heel and stalked back toward the manor house, robes billowing behind.
I began to shake violently. What? Was he good? No! I thought, suddenly realizing what he had implied.
My mouth opened to call after him, but no sound came out. I slumped down the wall, sobbing into my shaking hands. I haven't betrayed you. I couldn't, I sent out empathically. The baby is yours.