Chapter 37

Bitters

Patience could feel Biter burrowing beneath the sheets beside her and she was aware that Wicket had brought her breakfast tray almost twenty minutes before. However, she could not find the energy to get up from the bed. As she lay staring up at the inside of the canopy, the colour of which was even more depressing than in her old bedroom, she let her mind replay the events of that day once more. The more she allowed herself to get lost in the memory of that beautiful hour together, the less she found comfort in it. It had been almost two months since he had come and she had worn the edges off what had been a wonderful memory until now she could see all that was wrong with it.

He had still been very difficult, very bitter. She did not know what had caused him to react so differently to her. He had seemed alternately hopeful and incredulous, neither of which were qualities of his personality that she had ever seen before. Whatever had changed his demeanour had assuredly not been whatever he had been doing before he had arrived. The terrified yet hard expression on his face when he had first come through the fireplace, which she had since had plenty of time to consider, indicated to her now that he had been involved in something truly nasty before he had fled to her. She was aware that his appearance at the house had been more of an escape than anything else, but she was still thankful that he had considered her the one to whom he could flee.

She had by now read every article and piece of information that had come available about the events that had occurred in the Ministry that night. She was certain that her husband had not been present/ Not just because he had told her he was not, but because she had made Luther do what he could to find out. Therefore she could not explain the state of his appearance that morning. He ought not to have been covered in anyone's blood from anything he had done at the school either. Apparently, her husband had a great many secrets that he did not deign to tell her.

Patience considered, for perhaps the two hundredth time that month, her husband's affiliation with the most notorious band of Dark wizards in Europe. She had an odd, illogical sense of pride that her husband was so powerful and that he was willing to risk himself for something so dangerous due to his principles. The fly in the proverbial ointment was simply that Patience was not too certain that she agreed with his principles. She could not like such blatant prejudice. Of course, it was obvious that Muggleborns were not quite right. They really were too often hopelessly out of step with the wizarding world. However, Patience could not agree that it was ever acceptable to hurt people in the way that the Death Eaters did. Luther could talk about making sacrifices and 'unfortunate collateral' until the next blue moon, but Patience would never believe that killing was the only answer to saving the wizarding world's problems.

Patience had always felt that her husband had definitely killed people. She imagined that not all of the times that he had done so had been in self-defence either. She also had an idea that he had used torture to further his means—to procure information or to force an unwilling 'colleague' into participation. There was something about his absolute certainty that he would be obeyed and his confidence regarding his knowledge of the Dark Arts that had convinced her of these things.

Patience was aware that Severus Snape was not a 'good' man. She knew from her own experience that he could be cruel, sadistic, and extremely selfish. Her husband was a very bitter wizard, who probably would never fully trust anyone other than himself. Patience did not think that he was really capable, but she felt that she was the person who came closest to winning his confidence. This fact had at one time given her hope for the future of their relationship. Yet Patience had finally begun to understand that there was not likely to be any future for their marriage. If her husband was not killed in this war, for this was precisely what Luther had told her they were now in, he would very likely be imprisoned. Death Eaters would be given very little justice. Patience had a deep-seated fear that her husband would be administered the Dementor's Kiss, which she knew was even worse than ignominious death.

What made it more difficult to be hopeful was the fact that her husband had very little hope himself; if she was honest, she would have to admit he had none. He did not expect for them to ever live together again. He had told her clearly that she was going to be raising their daughter alone when he had detailed for her what were his expectations for their child. He had written exacting instructions about education and other matters that seemed to be of desperate importance to him regarding their child's future. All of his plans seemed to indicate an assumption that he would not be present.

In fact, Patience felt that something other than the beginning of open war had come about to cement her husband's belief that he would soon be dead or gone. Something major had occurred to convince him of this at the very beginning of the summer. He had not told her what had happened, but she knew that his entries into the Paired Script book had suddenly begun to sound very trapped and hopeless. He had written one sentence that had seemed at the time to be a clue to his misery, but she had not been able to understand what had happened nevertheless. Perhaps he had merely been admonishing her that she should never put the fate of their child in someone else's hands. However, the cryptic comment about a mother's desperation could also have referred to his own mother's own unfortunate decisions about him. Patience was aware that she was never going to truly understand her husband, yet she still spent considerable energy trying.

As she came once more to this conclusion, Patience sighed with frustration and then got up from the bed with some difficulty. Her body had begun to betray her at every turn. There didn't seem to be a part of her that was not either swollen or changed for the worse. Even her hair had been difficult lately. She hated being pregnant. It was a miserable state and she could not wait to be shot of the whole process and finally be a mother.

Patience, as little as she had originally wanted a child with her husband, now felt as if this baby were likely to be the only thing really worth doing in her life. She had been shockingly depressed the last few weeks, since she had been essentially confined to their home, and nothing beyond her child had much power to move her. She was aware that everyone from Rem to Eva to Luther was using the health of her child as an incentive to get her to do what they wanted, but since she was so concerned about her baby she did what they wanted anyway. There was no telling what small thing might make a difference and Patience would not forgive herself if she could have improved her child's health and had neglected to do so.

Patience glanced unenthusiastically at the tray that Wicket had placed beside a roaring fire. There were eggs. She had taken an aversion to eggs this last week and she could hardly keep herself from sicking as she ate them. If Healer Van Ussel had not ordered her to eat more proteinous foods, Patience would throw the platter directly in the fire. Wicket could have brought her a nice egg custard, surely. And if there were…oh who could bear toast in the morning?

Patience dropped the cover back onto the plate and marched angrily to the small silver bell on the mantelpiece. She waited impatiently for the house-elf to appear in front of her, but when he did not arrive, Patience snatched up her dressing gown from the chair and marched towards the door to the bedroom. As she had placed her fingers round the handle, she heard a respectful knock on the other side of the door.

"Who is it?"

"It is me, Patty."

Patience ripped the door open and saw Eva standing awkwardly in the hallway. Patience started to invite her in when she remembered that Eva had not been invited into Severus' rooms, which were now Patience's own, so the wards would keep her out. Patience made a gesture of annoyance and stepped out into the hallway. "What is wrong?"

"Rem says that Wicket is ill. She found him huddled in the kitchen crying. Luther says that you had better see him."

Patience clapped her hand over her mouth, instantly concerned about the old house-elf and feeling guilty that she had been so annoyed with him. "I will go directly down. I shall meet you there."

Patience walked over to the fireplace and pulled the jar of Floo powder closer. She had been unable to manage stairs for the last two weeks without help from Rem and there was no possibility that she could get down three flights and into the kitchen in any reasonable amount of time. She dropped a fist full of powder into the flames and stepped inside, announcing her destination to be the kitchen. The fact that their fireplaces had been removed from the Floo Network had not kept Luther from privately having them connected to help his sister manoeuvre the house more easily.

As soon as she stepped from the fireplace, Patience could see the elderly house-elf was crouched on the floor and wailing, "No, no, no." As she ran forward, the house-elf stopped his crying and began to blubber, "Wicket is sorry, kind mistress. Wicket will punish himself, he has not been…" The house-elf broke off from his apology to cough harshly.

"No, no, Wicket. I am not angry. You are ill. We must find you a Healer. You must rest until you are better."

The old house-elf raised his head piteously and tried to speak, but was overtaken by a series of choking coughs. Patience plunked herself heavily to the ground beside the house-elf and ran her hand along his feverish forehead. She looked up at her brother, who was standing with a strange expression on his face, and she asked him sharply, "Who do we call? What sort of Healer treats house elves?"

Luther frowned and began to speak, but Eva, who had knelt and put her arm round her friend, spoke first. "There aren't any Healers for house elves, darling. There are those that treat non-sentient creatures, such as Hippogriffs and Crups, and there are those that treat humans. Sentient beings are expected to train their own Healers, like goblins and merpeople do. However, there aren't any house-elves that are trained for anything beyond nursing skills."

"But, but who treats house-elves when they are old?"

Luther responded seriously, "No one. House-elves generally refuse treatment. They work until they can no longer do so."

Wicket, who had been following the progression of the conversation with his eyes, now interjected, "Wicket will be better soon. Wicket does not need Healer, kind Mistress. Please, forgive Wicket, Wicket wants to serve the Snape family, please do not put Wicket into the bed."

Patience finally succeeded in grabbing the house-elf's hand and said softly, "But Wicket, you are not well. If you will rest now then perhaps you will get better. We have Rem, who will serve us for now."

"Wicket cannot, Mistress. Wicket cannot. Mistress does not have another house-elf. It is Wicket's duty."

Behind Patience's back, Eva looked curiously up at Luther, who nodded his head. Eva spoke softly to Patience, who was openly crying as she patted the elderly house-elf's hand.

"Patty, Luther and I have been discussing this for a while now. I would like to bring one of the Daedalus house elves into the home. If we had another house-elf here then Wicket could rest."

Patience looked down at Wicket, who was panting heavily after another bout of coughing, and then said slowly, "I don't know, the security might be an issue. The house-elf would not be bound to serve the Prince-Snape family. I am not sure that I can allow it."

Eva seemed startled by her friend's uncharacteristically pragmatic response, but Luther nodded grimly and replied, "I have thought of that, too. The house-elf is bound to the company, not to the Rosser family. I am the director of the company, so they must obey me. However, I do not own the company either so their loyalty will not be to me. It is something that I have not yet resolved. I have asked Aldebaran to look at the company's original enchantment contracts and I have been consulting some other sources about transferring the bond to me personally. The only other option, of course, is to set the house-elf free from the enchantment. However, there is no assurance that the house-elf would wish to serve me and my family by choice once I have shamed it by setting it free without cause."

Patience brushed back her tears with her free hand and asked, "But if you explain to the house-elf, isn't that different? Wouldn't they be willing?"

"House-elves have minds and feelings of their own, Patience. You cannot predict what they would want. Bonding themselves to the Prince family in place of Wicket might send them to Gideon if something were to happen to you. The Prince family is not well-loved by house-elves. The Kent family has no real history, so that is not a very honourable appointment either. I have not yet worked the details out, Patience; however, I see no other options. Wicket cannot be let free, but he can no longer serve the house as he has done."

Patience turned back to Wicket and said urgently, "Please rest, Wicket. I need you to be well so that you can help when the baby comes. I know how you want to help me with her."

The elderly house-elf shook his head and stood up on shaking legs. "Wicket must make kind Mistress' lunch. Healer says she must have special food."

Patience turned towards her brother, who shook his head to indicate that she should do nothing. Eva bent to help Patience to get up from where she had been kneeling and the two friends moved towards the door, which Luther was holding open.