Hello! I know, I know, it's been over a month since I last posted. I'm awful but, as I have stated before, the chapters are going to start getting heavy and, in addition to being hairy to write, they may take some emotional fortitude on my part and I work three jobs, so emotional fortitude is not something I have in spades at the moment. But, on a lighter note, here's chapter 26! I do hope you enjoy it. I feel Severus may be a tiny bit OOC at small parts of this chapter, but I really think he's trying to be engaging with Zoe, to be wholly present for her, so let me know if it really bothers you at all.
Enjoy.
Getting Back to Not-So-Normal
Zoe and her father returned to Hogwarts on the morning of the fifth of January hours before the rest of the students were to arrive on the Hogwarts Express.
Once again, Zoe had shown disdain at not being allowed to accompany her friends on the train, but her father had insisted that this was for the best, for he anticipated photographers at King's Cross who were expecting to get more shots of the mysterious professor and his daughter.
Zoe had therefore not fussed too much as they had packed their things at Budhmor Firth and Flooed to Minerva's quarters at Hogwarts before spending the day in her father's office as he did some necessary paperwork and settled back into things. Zoe continued her reading of Sense and Sensibility while lying on her belly on the thick, wool rug, a conjured pillow pushed up under her elbows for comfort.
It was not long after lunch however, that Zoe grew restless.
"Papa, when is everyone else supposed to arrive?" she asked, sitting up and stretching to look at her father over his desk.
He glanced at her through his spectacles briefly before pulling his watch from his pocket and examining it.
"It's only half two," he observed. "The train won't arrive in Hogsmeade for nearly five hours."
Zoe sighed heavily. "I'm bored," she stated moodily.
"You know how I feel about that word," her father admonished flatly, going back to his paperwork. "When there is infinite knowledge to be obtained in this world and equally infinite experiences to be had, you are not allowed to say you are bored."
Zoe made sure her father wasn't watching her before she rolled her eyes at him.
"Well, may I go outside and fly, then?"
"No. I must finish this before dinner."
"May I go to the library?"
"It will not be open until the morning."
"How about the Slytherin common room?"
Her father shook his head. "I do not want you wandering the castle alone."
"But there's a Gobstones set in there. I could bring it back here and we could play."
"Do you not recall my telling you that this paperwork needed to be finished before dinner?" he asked, giving her his raised-eyebrow, annoyed-father look.
"Well, what are you working on? Maybe I could help," she suggested.
Her father shook his head. "I don't think so. I am drawing up new lesson plans for all the years to incorporate more practical, defensive lessons."
Zoe's shoulders slumped. "But there's nothing to do," she complained.
"If you're going to whinge, I'm certain I could find some cleaning in here or the classroom to appease your boredom," her father said, still focusing most of his attention on his paperwork.
"No, I'm not that bored," Zoe stated quickly.
"I didn't think so."
Zoe lay back down and reopened her book, conceding that she'd be stuck in her father's office all afternoon with nothing to do. However, she'd barely read through another page before there was a knock on the door.
She jumped up quickly and excitedly and ran to the heavy door, flinging it open before her father could protest. On the other side Professor Lupin and Professor Longbottom stood. Zoe could tell that they were expecting to greet her father at the door, for they seemed confused momentarily until they brought their eye lines down and saw her.
"Ah, Zoe, how are you?" Professor Lupin greeted pleasantly.
"I'm good, sir," Zoe said stepping to the side so that the two visitors could enter. "How are you?"
"Very well, thank you," he said, coming in and addressing her father, who stood up from his chair. "Good afternoon, Severus."
"Lupin, Longbottom," her father greeted in his typical drawl. He waited then for Professor Lupin to explain his presence.
Lupin stood ill at ease for only a moment before he said: "Neville and I were just doing a last inspection of the castle and, as we were walking by, I thought I'd drop in, see if you were here, and make sure that we were on schedule for this week."
Zoe watched her father incline his head. "As always, your potion will be ready on time."
Professor Lupin nodded. "Excellent. Thank you, Severus. And… I trust the two of you had a good holiday despite the, er, unpleasant aspects of it?"
Zoe's father's expression became stony. "Really, Lupin. The entire wizarding world is well aware of the kind of holiday we have had."
"Yes, I suppose that's true," Lupin said. "Dora and I were relieved to hear that you were both safe and Harry told me that he helped you to ward your properties. I do hope that at least eases your mind a little."
"Indeed," was her father's only comment.
It grew silent and uncomfortable again.
Finally, Lupin turned to look at Zoe. "Are you ready for the new term?" he asked.
Zoe nodded, smiling. "I finished all my homework. I hope you—and you, Professor Longbottom—enjoy my essays."
"That's wonderful, Zoe, and I'm sure we will be riveted to your essays, but I was referring more to whether you were excited to see your friends and get back to Hogwarts life? Have you found yourself craving the house elves' cooking, perhaps?"
"Oh!" Zoe said. "Very much, but it's hard to feel excited right now," she sighed a bit melodramatically and glanced back at her father. "Papa's holding me hostage in here until the Hogwarts Express arrives. He doesn't want me to wander by myself."
As her father gave her an annoyed glare, Professor Longbottom let out an amused grunt and Professor Lupin's eyes filled with mirth as a smile enveloped his features.
"Well, I'm sure he has good reason," Professor Lupin said, moving toward the door. "I'll see you in class tomorrow."
Zoe nodded as she observed Professor Longbottom hesitating in the doorway. He stood a bit taller after a moment and looked at her father across from him.
"If there's anything I—or Hannah—can do for you, Professor, anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask."
Zoe's head whipped around to look at her father. Though she hadn't known there to be any hostility between the two professors, over her first term, she'd had the distinct feeling that neither cared much for the other. Of course, her father had usually seemed rather indifferent to Professor Longbottom, but the latter had always seemed to act as if there were words that had been left unsaid or that there was some sort of unfinished business there. It was sometimes downright awkward to be in both of their companies—as it was now.
Zoe squirmed, looking between the two, until her father finally inclined his head, and Professor Longbottom left, closing the door lightly behind him.
"Who's Hannah?" she asked immediately.
"Professor Longbottom's wife," her father responded, returning to his seat. "Another former student of mine. She's the innkeeper of The Leaky Cauldron."
"Oh. Why would Professor Longbottom and his wife offer to…er, do anything…if you asked them?"
Her father shook his head. "I imagine they feel they owe us in some way…or owe me," he said a bit distractedly. After a moment, he looked up at Zoe as if he had been lost in thought and only just then broken out of it.
She didn't know what he meant by Professor Longbottom feeling like he owed her father in some way and she was somewhat wary of inquiring further about it for it seemed to trouble him. Therefore, she moved to take up her place on the floor once more, as her father sat back in his chair and removed his glasses, rubbing at his eyes.
"Come sit down, Zoe. We need to talk over a few things."
"Like what?" Zoe asked, her brow furrowed.
Her father took his hand away from his eyes and set her with an exasperated, but stern gaze.
"Perhaps once you do as I've asked, you'll find out," he retorted smartly.
"All right, all right," Zoe mumbled as she moved to the chair across from her father.
He pulled himself toward the desk and placed his hands atop it. After an extended pause, he began talking.
"You know that Hogwarts is very safe, practically a fortress," he began. "Yes?"
Zoe nodded. "Yes, I know that."
Her father inclined his head again and took a deep breath. "Nonetheless, dangers have arisen in our world, dangers that I had hoped were long in the past. These are threats that may make our everyday lives quite different—as you've already experienced to a degree."
Her father paused then. He looked away from her for a moment. He had that look on his face that Zoe recognized as conflicted. He was negotiating with himself on how to tell her something.
He locked his black eyes with hers.
"I need you to promise me— No, I need you to swear to me that during this upcoming term, you will use caution in everything that you do."
Zoe wrinkled her brow. "Of course, Papa," she said simply. "I try to be careful all the time."
"Yes…" her father said in such a way that Zoe figured he didn't agree with her on that one. "However, I am asking for more vigilance on your part. I want you to be cautious of who you speak with, who you tell certain things. Do not provoke any other student into duels or brawls—"
"But, Papa, I told you, I don't try to—" Zoe began childishly to interject.
"Zoe," her father said quietly then. It hadn't been harsh in the slightest, but it had halted her protest and, somehow, that singular word—her own name—had conveyed that this was a serious conversation and her father wanted her to listen and listen sharp.
They were both quiet for a beat but when Zoe got the impression that it was okay to speak again, she did.
"Do you think something's going to happen here at Hogwarts…like what happened at home?" she asked softly, looking up at her father through her eyelashes.
He looked down at his hands briefly and shook his head. He shifted his gaze back to her.
"That isn't what I'm saying and it is not my aim to alarm you. Merely to make you more alert," he said. "If you are taunted in the coming weeks, I want you to ignore it and come speak with me or Minerva—even Professor Lupin will suffice if he's available and we are not. I cannot keep you from the grounds without reasonable cause, but if you wander there, be sure you are never alone—stay with your friends, with people you trust, at all times. And for Merlin's sake, stay out of the Forbidden Forest."
Zoe felt a sudden surge of defiance coming to the surface of her emotions. Nothing her father had said was that limiting, but it seemed like he was always giving her more and more rules to follow. She was starting to feel suffocated. She understood his worry for she never wanted to experience the horrors of what had happened at Spinner's End ever again, but they were at Hogwarts now. Hogwarts was safe. It was the safest place anywhere. Why was he still restricting her so much?
All of this thinking caused the words that came out of her mouth to be quite terse when she spoke them.
"It's like I'm a prisoner."
Her father's gaze became angry then. "It's nothing like," he said fiercely, his teeth gritted in agitation. He rose from his chair huffily and stalked to the window.
Zoe watched him for a moment but eventually looked away. That hadn't been the right way to say how she felt; it had only irritated him. "I just feel like there are always new rules all the time," she complained. "There are always more things you don't want me to do when I did them before and I was fine."
Her father let out a heavy sigh and Zoe was surprised to hear the timbre of his voice become much more understanding as he turned from the window to face her.
"These are not new rules, Zoe. They are a reiteration of things you already know. I am merely imploring you to use the head you have on your shoulders should strange, hostile, or unordinary situations arise—and they may or may not arise in the current climate. I am asking you to be more attentive to your environment and to anything you say. That is all."
Zoe looked back to her father then. He seemed tired and she didn't want to put any more undue stress on him by being bullheaded—not after the holiday they'd had—so, somewhat reluctantly, she nodded.
"I will," she said and she genuinely meant it.
Her father gave a single nod and moved back toward his desk. "You may go back to your reading now. Unless you have any questions?"
Zoe shook her head and stood, moving to the spot she'd left on the floor, but she looked back to her father after a moment's thought. "Papa… the floor's uncomfortable."
Her father smirked briefly and pulled his wand from his robes. With a wave, the hard, wooden chair she'd been sitting on turned into a comfortable armchair, perfect for reading.
Zoe picked up her book and settled contentedly into the armchair.
Severus looked up from his paperwork to his daughter. It hadn't taken long for her to doze off once the chair had been transfigured. He supposed he should be grateful. At least this way, she hadn't complained her way through the remaining few hours before she could join her housemates in the Great Hall for dinner.
Severus sat back in his chair and sighed heavily. Though he'd gotten the distinct impression that Zoe hadn't agreed to extra vigilance for her own sake, but for his, he would take whatever he could get.
The fact of the matter was that, yes, Hogwarts was safe—mostly—but it was not infallible. And, especially now that the greater wizarding world knew who she was, there would be dangers from within the castle's walls and he simply couldn't be with her every minute of every day. He needed her cooperation.
He understood her frustration, however. He wasn't ecstatic about any of this either. He wanted her to have a worry-free childhood, to be able to roam the grounds of her school carefree. He wanted for her to be blissfully oblivious of the pressing dangers of the greater wizarding world for as long as possible so as to keep her from bitterness and cynicism for, genetically, she was likely to be prone to it enough later in life.
However, life was doing a very good job of laughing in his face on every count and so, caution would rule them for the time being.
He pulled his pocket watch from his robes and read it. Standing and stretching, he took his glasses from his face, set them upon the desk, and made his way to his daughter's chair. He nudged her shoulder to wake her.
The girl stirred and her eyes—a contented lavender shade—settled on his face.
"It's time," he said. "The students should be coming into the grounds by now."
Zoe stretched out like a cat, giving an uncouth groan as she rose to her feet. She threw her Hogwarts robes on and followed him to the door.
As they made their way across the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Zoe pushed herself into his side, wrapping her arms around one of his. She leaned her head against his arm.
"Papa, what if my friends don't understand?"
Severus paused in his stride and looked to his daughter. He had every intention of telling her that if they couldn't understand and accept her despite who her father was, then they were not her real friends to begin with and she'd be better off but, as he looked down into the eyes that had changed back to her natural dark blue, something completely different had issued from his lips.
"They will," he said confidently.
Zoe gave him a weak smile and the two left to make their way to the Great Hall.
Zoe looked anxiously at Glendora, John, and Caroline. She had waited outside the Great Hall before dinner and, after greeting Lottie, thankful that she would be there for support, she had gathered the three Ravenclaws together to apologize for not telling them who her father was. She'd barely started before Caroline cut her off.
"Zoe, it's okay," she said kindly. "You don't need to apologize."
"Really?" Zoe asked. "You aren't angry?"
"No," John responded. "We, er… we kind of knew already."
Zoe's eyes grew wide. "You did? How?"
"We had an idea, anyway," Caroline clarified, looking to Lottie for reassurance. "It was the way you acted when people would say awful things about him and his classes. It was also kind of obvious the way he would always seem to pull you away to talk to you privately. He didn't do that with any other students. And…there are other things…like the look on your face when you're annoyed—it's just like Professor Snape's look. And…well…you just kind of look like him. Not always, but we can see it there sometimes. The articles in the newspaper just showed that our guess was right."
Zoe nodded, flabbergasted. "You saw the Daily Prophet?" she asked, wincing.
"Who hasn't?" Glendora asked. "You've been all over it all week."
"Oh, yeah, I guess I have," Zoe said sheepishly, looking down at her shoes. "So… er, do you all care that my father is, well, who he is?"
She looked up at her friends through her eyelashes, mainly focusing her attention on John, who'd always been the most vocal about his dislike of their Defense professor. Caroline also shot a disapproving look at John who, despite his darker skin, seemed to blush.
The boy shrugged after a moment. "We all have people in our family that are difficult. Look at my brother Dominic…," he said a bit flippantly. "We like you, Zoe. Your dad is… well, he's your dad and, even if he is bloody unfair sometimes, we won't ever hold it against you. And…I'm sorry for things I said before when I didn't know. I'll try to keep it to myself from now on."
Zoe smiled. "Thanks, John. And, I know how he can be. I grew up with him, remember?"
Caroline, Glendora, and Lottie giggled, while John gave Zoe a grateful half-smile.
"Zoe, you and Professor Snape are all right, aren't you?" Caroline asked then. "We were so worried for you when we heard about the attack. Mum and Dad were so angry. They said that after everything your dad did for the wizarding world, he didn't deserve to be tormented anymore."
Zoe nodded. "We're all right. Papa managed to fight them off and then we Flooed to my godmother's."
"Professor Snape fought off all those Death Eaters? By himself?" John asked. He seemed impressed as Zoe nodded.
"My dad always told me he was a great wizard, but I didn't think he could fight off six Death Eaters by himself… I guess that's why he's the Defense professor."
"Six?!" Zoe exclaimed. "I didn't know there were that many."
"That's what the Prophet said," Lottie suddenly piped up.
"I only saw two," Zoe said quietly, reflecting on that night.
"So…is it true that your mum is that Dark witch, Bellatrix Lestrange?" Glendora asked then.
Caroline turned her head to look at Glendora, shock on her face, while John elbowed the brown-haired girl.
Zoe wrinkled her brow at the reactions. "No. I don't even know who that is. You know my mum was a Muggle."
"Right, yeah," Glendora said. "And that one article said you were too young to have been Bellatrix's. She was killed in the Battle of Hogwarts, wasn't she?"
"Yes, she was," John said. "But shut it, Glendora. Zoe doesn't want a rumor going around that her mum was a Death Eater."
"Sorry," Glendora said. "I'm just trying to get it all straight. Muggleborn, remember?"
"It's all right," Zoe said. "But, do you mind if we don't talk about any of this right now?"
A sudden wave of intense anxiety took over Zoe's mind then and she knew that if she allowed herself to think about the attack or the fallout from it for too long, that she'd probably get emotional. She didn't want that when she still had to sit in the Great Hall for dinner. As it was, she was already getting curious looks and conspicuous murmuring from students as they passed her on their way through the large doors.
When the group of friends entered and took their seats at their respective house tables, Zoe couldn't help but steel a glance to the High Table to look for her father. He was immersed in a conversation with Professor Goode, but he seemed to have been waiting for her to enter as well and, as their eyes met, Zoe felt her anxiety melt away. They were at Hogwarts again and hopefully everything was going to get back to normal—mostly.
She couldn't have been more wrong.
The next morning, having already dealt with stares and whispers the night before, it became very obvious that things were decidedly not normal. Barely ten minutes into the meal, a number of owls—many more than usual—flew into the Great Hall to deliver the post. Students chattered all around with confusion as the birds swooped in to distribute their letters and packages to their recipients.
Zoe had been happily tucking in to a crumpet with jam when an eagle owl landed directly in front of her, holding in its beak a deep, red-colored envelope. Zoe didn't even have the chance to grab the letter before dozens more birds of all different sizes began to land on the table, benches, and floor all around her, sitting on the shoulders and atop the heads of students and upsetting bowls of yogurt and scrambled eggs.
"Zoe, what's going on?" Lottie asked anxiously beside her, shooing an owl away from her sausages.
"I don't know. Surely these can't all be for me."
"Well, that one landed first and the letter has your name on it…" Lottie said, pointing to the red envelope.
Zoe reached for it and just as she had put her fingers onto the crisp, red parchment, a hand clamped down on her wrist, pulling it back. But it was too late; her touch had made the letter start to hiss and smolder, causing the owl to drop it and flap back up into the sky.
Zoe looked up into her father's face behind her. He looked angry and alarmed, but she didn't get the chance to ask him what the matter was, for he pulled her up off the bench and began quickly towing her out of the Great Hall. It was rather embarrassing with everyone staring at them, but Zoe wasn't really concerned with that when, just as they exited, she heard her own name—Zoe Snape—boom loudly across the dining hall followed by a slew of profanities.
Without a word, her father swiftly crossed the Entrance Hall and entered into a small classroom there that was primarily used for storage, all while the voice echoed around, screaming obscenities and calling Zoe awful names, cursing her birth, and speculating on her blood status. By the time her father had managed to close the door and put up a sound-proofing charm to block out the vulgarities, tears were rolling down Zoe's face unhindered. She hadn't understood everything the letter was screaming, but she definitely understood the implication that the letter writer not only disliked her, but felt her unworthy of living, a mar upon the name wizard.
Her father stood with his head leaning against the door for several minutes as Zoe watched him through her tear-soaked eyelashes. What had just happened? Why would someone she didn't even know send her something so awful?
Sniffling and wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her robes, Zoe walked forward then to stand beside her father. Without looking at her, he looped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side.
"You shouldn't have had to hear that," he said lowly. It almost sounded as if he was saying it to himself.
"What's going on?" Zoe asked, her voice wavering slightly.
Her father stepped away from the door and looked down on her.
"Do not open any post you may receive," he said softly. He pulled his handkerchief from his robes and handed it to her. "Especially not the Howlers."
"That was a Howler?"
"Yes. You are familiar with them?"
Zoe shook her head. "Not really. John said his Mum sent him a Howler at summer camp once for sneaking in some Muggle fireworks and setting them off as a prank right before wake-up call."
Her father smirked lightly, but grew silent.
"Do you think it's over yet?" Zoe asked after a moment.
Her father reached forward and opened the door. Instantly, they were bombarded with more cursing, but this time it sounded as if multiple letters had erupted in angry diatribes. He quickly closed the door again—her question having been answered.
He moved away from her and crossed to take a seat on an old student desk. He ran a hand over his face.
"I should have anticipated this," he said, seemingly to himself again, as Zoe walked to stand beside him. "I should have prepared you for the possibility of this."
"Papa, why would someone send me a Howler?" she asked.
"For the same reason we talked about before. It would seem that there are people in our world who have found the need to voice their displeasure at our mere existence."
"Because of your involvement in the war?"
Her father nodded his head silently.
"It sounded like there were a lot more out there," Zoe observed.
"Hmm… you were understandably too preoccupied to notice the small flock of owls that had settled around me. I had well over a dozen birds with Howlers sitting at the High Table. I'm certain Minerva set them off as we exited just to get them over with before they exploded."
Zoe shook her head. "Sometimes, magic is scary."
Her father smirked again.
"It's certainly never to be taken lightly."
"So everyone else is hearing what those people are shouting at us?"
Her father inclined his head. "There is a spell that will garble the words so that no one but the intended recipient will be able to understand what is said—I'm certain the other professors implemented it for our privacy. However, Howlers are created to voice their message without restraint and at a high volume so as to create a sense of public shame on the addressee. Everyone in the Great Hall is well aware that we are being rebuked, even if they cannot understand what is being said."
Zoe screwed up her face in embarrassment even though she knew she didn't really have anything to be embarrassed about. As her father had said to her before, the problem lay with those who were judging them, not with her.
After a few more minutes ticked by, Zoe looked up at her father as a mortifying thought had occurred to her.
"You'd never send me a Howler, would you, Papa?"
Her father turned his head to look at her, his eyes wide as if he'd never given it much thought.
"I suppose I may give it some consideration if the transgression were to warrant it."
Zoe grimaced. "You probably wouldn't have to send a Howler, actually. If I got into that much trouble, everyone in the castle would hear you telling me off if you just didn't use a sound-proofing charm," she said dryly.
At that comment, her father let out a bark of laughter, which caused Zoe to smile broadly at him, happy that she'd managed to amuse him and lighten the mood a bit.
"Perhaps," he said jovially.
His features sobered after only a minute or so, though, and he stood to walk to the door, which he opened. There was nothing but the general murmuring of the students in the Great Hall. He turned back to her, beckoning her out of the classroom.
"Do not concern yourself with this," he said as Zoe followed him out of the room. "I will work with Minerva to avert our respective…fan mail…to screeners at the Ministry."
Zoe nodded and exited with her father, well aware that they were likely to reenter the dining chamber to a cacophony of whispers regarding what everyone had just heard.
The first week of the new term continued. Despite having sorted the issue of sordid post with only a single, tersely-worded letter to Harry Potter, Severus still had to put up with whispers and veiled disdain from various students every day. Regarding his relationship with his daughter, some seemed to assume he was not entitled to or deserving of any of it, regardless of having played a key role in her emergence into this world, and having raised and nurtured the girl thus far.
Others, however, were quick to give him a reassuring smile and assure that he hear them say something encouraging or uplifting, some even choosing to comment on Zoe's temperament or intelligence within earshot of him. He tried not to find it disheartening that no student had dared to say anything considerate to his face. At least his fellow teachers had been openly sympathetic; many professors had approached him in the staff lounge or Great Hall to convey their support over the first week.
It was apparent within a day where lines had been drawn on the issue, however and, despite Severus generally feeling as if it was nobody's bloody business but his own, he found himself questioning why he felt as if he cared what these small-minded students believed about him. After all, many of them were just spouting the opinions of their parents, who were equally as ignorant to any form of true events or, at the very least, biased in one way or another.
Even after all these years, he knew that many within the wizarding world did not trust him. Even families with no ties to either side of the great battle all those years ago, questioned his true allegiance or were skeptical of him in one way or another. There were many who deemed him a hero, a true warrior for the rights of all magical folk, however. They thought the idea of him with a daughter was romantic and just—an opportunity for Severus to be happy after so many years of turmoil and heartache (or so one particular article in The Daily Prophet had read).
Others, however, saw him as a manipulator, a once-servant to the Dark Lord who had somehow brainwashed the real hero, Harry Potter, into vouching for him and, thus, keeping himself out of prison. Those were the individuals who saw Zoe as some sort of spawn of pure evil, a child born as nothing more than a tool for future destruction of their world. They believed him to be an undeserving father, incapable of raising a child who could ever possibly be an asset to respectable, wizarding society.
Finally, there were the true Death Eaters who knew the real story, knew he had been loyal to Dumbledore during the entirety of the second war, knew of his aid to Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. They had a vendetta against him and, by association, Zoe, because he had escaped death—their version of justice. These witches and wizards were the real threat to him and Zoe. They did not see the Snapes as talking points within a politically-charged opinion column, but as legitimate risks to their ideology and their view of what the wizarding world should be.
Keeping all this in mind, Severus had seen Zoe in the corridors half a dozen times over the past week, usually accompanied by the Wickham girl and engaging in conversation, but her eyes had been melancholy both in spirit and in color—the telltale green seeming to be the only color she dawned since the end of their holidays.
He knew, of course, that the jibes and sneers were not directed exclusively at himself, that his daughter was dealing with the cruelty of people as acutely as he was—probably more blatantly than he was as well. But there was little he could do about it aside from intimidating his students into silence and dishing out detentions whenever he heard an ill-natured comment. Opinions, after all, were not something he could entirely quell. And he'd worked nearly his whole career to combat ignorance and all-around stupidity in his students, but that had proved as impossible as teaching manners to a Cornish pixie.
However, he had students (mainly those with ties to Death Eaters) who would likely not have much downtime for the foreseeable future due to the detentions he'd dispensed. Tallulah Culpepper, the third-year daughter of one of the Death Eaters who had attacked his home had had the audacity to infer that she was sorry they did not have a new Defense teacher with the new term. She had gained three weekends in a row of detentions with Severus, lost the privilege of her next Hogsmeade visit, and, additionally, been assigned a thousand lines of 'I will not wish the untimely death of my Defense professor and be dunderheaded enough to voice that sentiment to his face'.
Despite that, Severus still had hope that the girl would not fall into the Culpepper legacy. Thirteen, after all, was still impressionable and, perhaps through their detention sessions, he could imprint upon her a more acceptable set of values. He liked to think he'd had some influence on Draco Malfoy all those years ago; perhaps Miss Culpepper would take to a new perspective with a bit of guidance as well.
Zoe's demeanor is what had truly troubled him over the first week, however, so when the eleven-year-old burst through the door of his office in a whirlwind of excited smiles and Slytherin robes just as the breakfast hour had begun on the morning of the ninth, he'd been wholly relieved to see that she was managing the combined disdain and reverence of her classmates in stride.
"Happy birthday, Papa!" she exclaimed, latching her arms around him with nearly enough force and glee to knock him over.
Severus evened out his balance and placed his hand on the back of her head affectionately as she smiled up at him.
"Thank you and good morning," he responded. "You know you're supposed to knock before entering your professor's private office, Zoe."
"I know," she said without an ounce of remorse. "But I wanted to see you before class. It's your birthday!"
"Yes, I'm aware," he stated as Zoe pulled away from him to cross to his desk. She hopped up onto the top of it and lifted her feet to set them in the seat of his chair. She ignored the look of disapproval he directed her way.
"Do you want your present now or after dinner?" she asked.
Severus arched an eyebrow, vaguely curious as to what Minerva had managed to obtain for Zoe to give to him this year.
"Now, I suppose, since you're clearly dying to see me open it."
Zoe grinned as she leaned over to open up her rucksack. After a moment, she held up a green paper-wrapped parcel that was clearly a book and handed it to him. Severus took it from her and lifted his wand, expertly vanishing the paper and ribbon.
"Aw, Papa, you're supposed to rip it," Zoe chided.
Severus looked at her annoyed face. "This method is much more efficient."
"But it's not any fun," Zoe complained.
Severus smirked. They had this same exchange on every one of his birthdays.
He looked down to the book in his hands and frowned.
"Modern Magical Defense for Above-Average Wizards by Ares Bogg," he read aloud.
What is this rubbish?
His gaze moved back to Zoe, incredulously. The girl was clearly trying to stifle a grin. It didn't last long before she had erupted into peals of giggling.
"You should see your face," she said. "The cover is charmed. Minerva did it for me."
Severus raised a single, stern eyebrow, though he was far from unamused. "Zoe Ophelia Elizabeth. Are you telling me that you have just pranked your professor and Head of House with mediocre literature?"
Zoe nodded, still giggling.
"Yes, and it worked."
Severus inclined his head.
"Very bold," he conceded. Then he gave his daughter a playful smirk. "Nothing an afternoon of cauldron scrubbing won't curb, I'm sure."
Zoe merely continued to grin, knowing he was joking.
He took his wand in hand again and tapped the imposter cover of the book, which immediately melted away, revealing the true one: A Comprehensive Guide to Modern Tactics of Magical Defense by Julius Coriolanus Tweed.
"Now that's more like it," he said with satisfaction, opening the cover and scanning the preface.
"So… How old are you now?"
"A year older than I was last year," Severus stated without skipping a beat as he continued to rifle through his new book.
"No, really. How old?"
Severus, having donned his reading glasses, looked over them to his daughter, deciding to indulge her.
"I am fifty-five—or at least I will be officially in a few hours."
A mischievous gleam took over Zoe's eyes then.
"You're so old," she said dramatically.
Severus rolled his eyes.
"Yes, I imagine I only have between sixty and seventy functioning years left."
Zoe giggled.
"What are we eating for your birthday dinner? We had roast beef with Yorkshire pudding last year."
"I imagine you'll eat whatever is being served in the Great Hall this evening," Severus said, crossing to a cupboard and pulling a small, leather travel bag from it. He walked back to place it on his desk and put his birthday gift inside before looking up to Zoe who had an incredulous look upon her face.
"That's a joke, right? We always have a special dinner together on your birthday."
Severus shook his head. "Unfortunately, it is not a joke. We will have to forgo the dinner this year, for I've just gotten word that the viola riviniana outside of Oslo have started to bloom several weeks early. I must away immediately following the day's classes in order to resupply my stocks for the year."
"What?" Zoe asked. "But we always do this. It's tradition. We can't just cancel it."
"A postponement, then," Severus said, now moving to his bookshelf across the room to look for his encyclopedia of magical plants.
"Why do you have to go this weekend? Why can't you go next weekend?" Zoe whined from behind him.
Severus sent her a brief, annoyed look and turned back to his search.
"You know very well that if I go next weekend, there will likely be nothing left to cultivate. We can have dinner together sometime next week."
"I want to go with you, then."
Severus shook his head. "No. There isn't time enough to follow the process of taking you from school for the weekend and you'd likely fall behind on your homework anyway."
Now Zoe shook her head adamantly. "I wouldn't. And Minerva wouldn't really make you go through the whole process of taking me out."
Severus leveled his daughter with another disapproving look.
"Minerva cannot just make exceptions whenever she wants. She must uphold her integrity in matters of school policy."
"It's not fair," Zoe pouted.
"It's perfectly fair."
The room went silent but for the sound of Severus's rifling. Having found his encyclopedia, he looked back to his daughter. Her face was lined into a deep frown and she was picking at the wood on his desk.
"Oh, Zoe, stop sulking," he said rather tersely, before scanning his bookshelf again and beginning to pull other tomes out. He was growing rather weary of the girl's melodramatics of late. "I shall return on Sunday evening."
"But what about tomorrow? We're supposed to have lessons."
"Your Occlumency lessons will have to be postponed to next week as well."
"But I don't want them to be postponed," she said belligerently.
Severus once again settled his exasperated gaze on his daughter. "Now you wish to have lessons?" he asked. "If I had known all it took was a weekend away to get you to want to have lessons with me, perhaps I would have travelled more frequently earlier in your education."
"You know these lessons are different," Zoe pouted hotly, looking to the floor. "And don't say that. It's an awful thing to say."
Then the girl vaulted off the desk, kicking his chair in her temper so that it rolled away noisily and banged against the wall. She walked swiftly toward the door. Severus laid his books aside quickly and reached for her arm as she strode past him, stopping her.
"Not so fast," he said gruffly.
Zoe looked up at him with defiance and hurt in her tear-filled eyes and his compulsion to scold her for her tantrum died immediately. He suddenly realized that perhaps this wasn't entirely about Occlumency lessons or her want to celebrate his birthday with him. Perhaps, this had more to do with the fact that he was going away for a weekend not long after she'd experienced a trauma and at the end of a week filled with ridicule and unwanted notoriety. The girl probably just didn't want to be left by the only other person in the whole school who understood what she was going through. It made him feel guilty, for sure, but the both of them had to try to get back to a sense of normality. And gathering this particular potions ingredient over a weekend during the winter was their normality.
Severus let go of her arm then, placed his hand on the back of her head instead, and pulled her to him. He didn't wrap his arms around the girl and she didn't attempt to embrace him either, but they stood that way for nearly a minute—her face buried in his robes and his hand weaved into her wavy, dark brown hair.
"If I could take you with me, I would," Severus said quietly after some time. "You know that I would."
He felt Zoe nod her head against his sternum and for some reason all he could think about was how tall the girl was getting. She must have been having a growth spurt recently. He pulled her away from him then.
"I shall return on Sunday evening," he reiterated, the promise to inform her promptly of his return conveyed in his eyes.
"Yes, Papa," the girl said lowly, looking away from him and swiping a stray tear from her cheek.
"You're going to be late for Herbology," he told her. "Take that toast there; you've missed breakfast."
Zoe nodded and walked back to his desk, lifting her rucksack out of the chair and placing it on her shoulder. She snatched the toast from the breakfast tray he'd had delivered before her arrival and turned to leave. When she opened the door, she looked back at Severus.
"Will you get me something from Norway?" she asked sheepishly.
Severus hadn't thought to get her a souvenir, but perhaps it would be a good idea. It would be a small consolation to ease their parting.
"What would you like?" he asked.
Zoe shrugged. "Whatever you think I'll like."
Then she left, closing the door softly behind her.
Please review! "Don't make me order you." -Mycroft Holmes (Sherlock: Season 1, Episode 3)