Finally getting Part II posted! Yay!
I want to start by saying I GREATLY appreciate everyone who has stuck with this story over the years. I know I don't update as often as I'd like, but I have been working on it and I promise, PROMISE, that this story will be completed. We're nearing its end now.
It has to be completed, I have too many ideas for glimpses into Zoe's teen years and beyond... So please stay with me.
And please enjoy chapter 38.
**A/N: This chapter contains some exact quotes taken from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Chapter 33, "The Prince's Tale", by JK Rowling.
I make no money from this. All glory to Ms. Rowling.
Previously...
Zoe and Severus had begun to delve into his past within the pensieve.
The Past Reconciles the Present: Part II
When they reentered the memories of the pensieve, there were quick, chaotic flashes of Death Eater activity, with witches and wizards in robes and masks much like the ones Zoe saw that night when they attacked Spinner's End. She saw her father pouring over dozens of books, writing something out, then he was standing in a dingy laboratory hunched over a potion before briefly recognizing what appeared to be Muggles writhing in pain. She witnessed intense flashes of duels with uniformed Aurors and other witches and wizards that transformed into images of Voldemort speaking before a group. She saw Malfoy Manor once or twice, and recognized Lucius Malfoy in several of the images. But none of the memories solidified long enough for Zoe to gain an understanding of what was going on.
She imagined her father had done that intentionally. It was as if he was telling a story and, though this part was light on detail, it was giving her an impression of what he had been up to during the first few years after he had left Hogwarts.
"You were just doing…er…Death Eater things?" she asked apprehensively.
Her father nodded beside her as the tendrils of images snaked around them.
"I was also studying and apprenticing towards obtaining a Mastery in Potions but, yes, my main focus was on my duties to the Dark Lord. It was my aim, at that time, to become a member of his inner circle. I thought it would bring me prestige and respect."
He glanced to Zoe briefly, but when she didn't say anything more, he turned away, focusing back onto the space in front of him.
Again, the memories stopped swirling around her and her father and they were standing in a dimly lit corridor very near a door that was slightly ajar. Oil lamps and candles burned within, illuminating the room. She noticed a man crouched just in front of the door, listening in.
Her father stayed back, but Zoe walked forward, coming to stand beside the man at the door. She couldn't see his face, for his back was to her, but she could hear the words that were coming from within:
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…"
"Oi! What are you up to!"
Zoe quickly turned around as a tall man with a beard and auburn-grey hair walked toward her and the man at the door. As the tall man grabbed the man at the door, he swung him around and Zoe saw his face—it was her younger father. She looked to her real father.
"What's going on?" she asked him as the tall man dragged the younger man along the corridor and down the stairs.
"I'm being thrown out," her father said rather glibly as he followed his younger self.
Zoe quickly ran to catch up and, once they were out in the stormy night, she looked at the building from where they'd come. It was the Hog's Head Inn in Hogsmeade. She remembered that she and her father had walked past the pub when they'd visited the village last term.
"What just happened?" she asked as they watched the younger version of her young father disapparate away.
"I had gone into the Hogs Head that night whilst on an assignment to follow Dumbledore in any of his dealings outside the walls of Hogwarts. What you just witnessed was my overhearing of something I shouldn't have, something that I didn't understand—a prophecy."
His words were detached and dejected, his face pained.
"A prophecy?" Zoe asked. "'The one with the power to vanquish'— Oh, Papa, you didn't." Somehow, she knew the implication of what had transpired. Her father—the younger one—had just disapparated away to tell Voldemort what he had heard at the door of the inn.
Her father looked to her with anguish in his eyes. "I did. I took what I had heard and I immediately relayed it to the Dark Lord."
The memories soon corroborated his words as Zoe saw her father stand before Voldemort, surrounded by a dozen or so other Death Eaters, and expound what he'd heard.
"You have done well, Severus," Voldemort said, his voice silky and dangerous.
"I thought I'd finally gained the recognition—the validation—I deserved by bringing him this information," Zoe's father explained beside her. "I knew he'd reward me handsomely."
"Did he?" Zoe asked quietly.
"No. The information I had… it was incomplete. And he went after the only person in the world I cared about at that time, thinking her child was the one destined to destroy him."
Zoe wrinkled her brow. The one he cared the most about at that time? Who—?
But then the memories were moving again and, suddenly, they were on a hilltop somewhere and her young father was pleading with…
"Is that Professor Dumbledore?" Zoe asked.
Her father nodded. "He was the only wizard I knew of that was powerful enough to save her from the Dark Lord."
Zoe watched as her father, on his knees, spoke with the old wizard as the wind whipped their robes and hair about.
"—he thinks it means Lily Evans!" her younger father shouted desperately.
Zoe gasped. Not Lily…
"The prophecy did not refer to a woman. It spoke of a boy born at the end of July—"
Dumbledore was right; Zoe remembered something about the vanquisher being born, not about someone who was already alive, though she hadn't absorbed the entirety of even what her father had heard at the door.
"He thinks it means her son! He means to hunt them down— kill them all—"
Tears had sprung to Zoe's eyes as the emotions of the scene unfolded before her. She watched with anger and sadness as Dumbledore suggested her father ask Voldemort to spare Lily in exchange for her son and she was just as repulsed as Professor Dumbledore when her young father stated that he had, indeed, requested of Voldemort that very thing.
The disdain in the old wizard's voice was confusing Zoe, however. Hadn't Dumbledore always spoken so highly of her father? Hadn't he called him one of the bravest men he'd ever known? Hadn't Mr. Potter said much the same?
But, then, her father had clearly just conveyed to Dumbledore that he'd asked Voldemort to spare Lily, but not her baby? Not her husband either? Why would her father do that?
To Zoe, her younger father seemed frightened, selfish, and desperate—not brave.
He seemed cowardly.
"Hide them all, then," her father said then. "Keep her—them—safe. Please."
"And what will you give me in return, Severus?"
"Anything."
Zoe didn't really understand what was going on. Tears were still stinging her eyes and her emotions were roiling in her chest. So, her father, as a Death Eater, at the height of Voldemort's power, had gone to Dumbledore and pleaded for the life of Lily? But he and Lily weren't even speaking at that time… At least, Zoe didn't think so. She hadn't seen them together since her father had called her the forbidden word.
And if her father had defied Voldemort to go to Dumbledore, then—
"I became a double agent that night."
The memories started to swirl once more.
Zoe's eyes widened, horrified. "That's what made you turn against him? He wanted to kill Lily?"
Her father nodded again. "Yes."
"But… but…" Zoe didn't know what she was trying to express. Having seen it all play out so far, she was suddenly very fearful for her father's younger self, despite already knowing that he'd been a spy against Voldemort and despite her absolute disgust at many of the actions she'd witnessed of him up to this point.
Was this the bravery Mr. Potter and Dumbledore had spoken of? Was defection from the Dark really enough to consider redemption?
Zoe didn't know. It was all too complicated.
"It was a very dangerous task that I took on that night," her father conceded beside her. "But I was desperate to keep her safe."
"She wouldn't have had to be kept safe if—"
Zoe cut off, seeing how her thoughtless condemnation clearly wounded her father. As disappointed in him as she was and as much as she truly believed him to have been in the wrong so far in much of what she'd seen, she couldn't bring herself to hurt him with her words now. She didn't know why that was.
"I know," was all he said, his voice soft.
They were silent for several moments, merely staring away from each other, unfocused on the memories that continuously churned around them.
"So…Lily was Mr. Potter's mum?" Zoe asked then, needing to confirm her suspicions.
Her father's eyes met hers. "Worked that out, did you?"
"Yes. Mr. Potter defeated Voldemort and the prophecy said 'the one with the power to vanquish' him… And you told Dumbledore that Voldemort believed it was her son. So, it had to be Mr. Potter the prophecy was talking about. Lily was Mr. Potter's mum. But… then…"
Her brow wrinkled, Zoe looked up to her father, more of the familial links suddenly forming in her mind.
"Yes," he stated concisely. "Lily married James Potter—the boy who had tormented me throughout my education who she, herself, had called a vile prat and a toerag on numerous occasions. He seemed to mature considerably in later adolescence and they grew close as Head Boy and Girl in our seventh year while I delved further and further into the Dark Arts, pushing Lily away more than I ever imagined was possible."
Zoe noticed the continued lull in the images as the memories seemed to search for the next string. She wondered very briefly if her father had the ability to control the order and speed at which they were presented.
"Despite the warning I had brought to Dumbledore, the Dark Lord killed Lily and James Potter on Halloween night in 1981," her father continued, as if reciting from a textbook, "Subsequently, he was destroyed by their infant son, Harry."
That much Zoe remembered from the books. The whole revelation saddened her immensely both on behalf of the Potter family and on her father's behalf. Clearly, he had cared for Lily despite their falling out and he was intensely regretful of his actions that had led to her death.
Zoe opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again, not knowing what to say.
Suddenly, the memories shifted again.
Her father was sitting in the office of the Headmaster now.
"You want me to take Slughorn's post?" he asked of Dumbledore, incredulous.
"I believe you'd do well," Dumbledore responded, standing beside his desk, but bending to write something on a piece of parchment atop it. "And now that you've obtained your Mastery, Horace agrees. He tells me you have more than a sufficient aptitude for Potions, though I must note that your prowess has been rather common knowledge within these walls since you were a second year."
Zoe's young father raised a single eyebrow. When he spoke, he ignored the praise he'd just received. "I'd be teaching students with whom I attended school. They know what I've been. I've only just been exculpated. The Ministry and the Board of Governors—"
"Let me handle the Ministry and the Board of Governors," Dumbledore interrupted.
Her father shook his head. "I doubt I'd ever garner the respect of the students. Pandemonium would ensue. And within a Potions classroom… I hardly think that would be a safe scenario for the structural integrity of the castle."
Dumbledore waved a hand. "You're a resourceful man. I'm certain you'll manage to gain respect and keep order in your own way and with time."
Her father shook his head. "I am grateful for the consideration, Headmaster, but I must decline. I cannot see myself being successful in such a job or, in fact, enjoying it."
Dumbledore leveled Zoe's younger father with a serious look. "It is not a request, Severus. Voldemort will return one day and you have made a promise to me. You will take the post for your own safety as well as under the guise of spying against me when Voldemort returns to power. And you will fulfill your responsibility."
"Dumbledore…always setting his cogs into place," Zoe's father stated beside her, as if to himself. He looked down to her. "This was several months after Lily's murder."
"What promise is he talking about?"
Her father frowned.
"He's referring to the vow I made to protect Lily's son at all costs, in her memory. A vow I made the night Lily was killed."
"An Unbreakable Vow?" Zoe asked.
The look her father leveled her was rather fierce and annoyed and she knew that he must be recalling an incident in her own past regarding Unbreakable Vows.
"No. But do not be so foolish as to think that just because there isn't magic involved that a vow cannot be held and abided to just as strongly by both parties."
Zoe merely nodded.
"You made the vow because Voldemort was going to come back?"
Zoe's father inclined his head. "Though, it would be ten years before my services were needed in that regard."
Zoe suddenly found herself in the Potions classroom. It looked only minimally different than it did presently now that Professor Goode had taken it over. She watched as her father asked an eleven-year-old Harry Potter questions the boy clearly didn't know the answers to. She watched as he belittled Neville Longbottom and snapped at a girl he had addressed as Miss Granger.
She looked to her real father and gave him a displeased look, but he wasn't watching her.
"Why?" she asked, exasperation leaking into her tone.
Her father turned to her. "Because… Because he was James Potter's son. He looked just like him. He ran headlong into danger without a second thought for his own safety or the lives of anyone who'd inevitably have to come to his rescue—just like his father."
"But Lily was his mum," Zoe stated softly.
Again, her father's eyes showed great remorse and his voice lost the bite it had just held. "If only you'd been there to remind me of that all those years ago," he said, ruefully.
Inexplicably, tears began to pool at the bottom of Zoe's eyes and she looked away.
Memories came in quick succession again.
She watched from the stands of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch as Harry Potter's broom bucked and sped up, clearly cursed. As it tried to fling him off, her father muttered a counter curse. She watched as he confronted a stuttering man in a turban, then as he looked down on Potter asleep in the hospital wing, Dumbledore and Minerva by his side.
Time seemed to move forward quickly as she watched, time and time again, how horribly her father treated Harry Potter and his friends, how horribly he treated nearly every student that wasn't in Slytherin House. And, though she highly disapproved, a picture of necessity was starting to take shape in Zoe's mind. She'd read a bit about the political climate of the time, after all. She felt as if she was starting to understand the animosity on her father's part. It was a method of gaining compliance amongst students who had little respect for her father and his house—students who showed little respect because of his house—but it was also a front for the Slytherin students who, Zoe now knew, were the most linked to the Death Eaters.
Her father had to keep up a certain appearance so that, in the event that Voldemort came back, he could return to the Dark wizard having aroused very little suspicion about his allegiance to Dumbledore.
With the images she'd been viewing and with her father's explanations of the events, she was starting to understand—some of it, at least.
She didn't see the return of Voldemort—her father didn't appear to have been present for it—but she watched as Harry Potter blinked into existence before her, clutching the body of another boy and screaming 'He's back'. She saw her father in the hospital wing as Dumbledore argued with a man in a bowler hat. Soon after, her father left the Hogwarts grounds and appeared in front of Voldemort again.
Then she watched in horror as Voldemort, malice in his eyes, accused her father of conspiring to end the reign of the Dark Lord with the knowledge of the prophecy. When her father explained to the Dark Lord his years of pretending to aid Dumbledore and expounded that he had extensive knowledge of Dumbledore's movements and motives—that he had the Headmaster's explicit trust—the vicious gleam in Voldemort's eyes changed slightly.
Zoe watched as Voldemort used Legilimency on her father. When he emerged from her father's mind minutes later, he seemed satisfied with what he'd viewed. Somehow, her father had managed to convince the Dark Lord that he was indispensable.
Zoe had still had to plead for her real-life father to make it all stop again as Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at her memory-father. The image of Voldemort's malicious red eyes burned in to Zoe's mind as her father managed to end the scene just as the first blood-curdling scream echoed around them as he succumbed to the Cruciatus Curse once more.
The memories swirled for a while after that and Zoe stood solidly in place amid them, breathing heavily as tears streamed down her face. She looked up to her father who looked pale. He was watching her.
"Voldemort…" Zoe took a deep breath. Her lower lip wavered and her voice caught in her throat. "Voldemort tortured you when you came back?"
"I was several hours tardy to his summons," her father said softly, simply. "The Dark Lord was not sure I'd return to him at all…"
"So what if you were late?!" Zoe spat out contemptuously. "So what if you'd never returned?! He had no right—"
Her father stepped forward as if he was going to embrace her but he stopped, hesitating. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder instead. He did not try to placate her. He simply allowed her to cry.
"He had no right," Zoe said again, tears streaming down her face. She balled up her fists, trying to calm down, but it was hard. Her emotions were too… all-over-the-place.
The expression on her father's face was haunted now. He didn't speak for the longest time; he didn't look her in the eyes either. Several minutes passed before Zoe realized that the movement of the memories had stopped. They were still emerged in the pensieve, but they were standing in what Zoe could only describe as nothingness—a greyish hue surrounded them as the tendrils of memories fused together into a singular color.
"You stopped them?" Zoe asked curiously, looking up to her father once more.
"Only until you feel well enough to continue."
Zoe looked down to her feet. "I'm all right," she spoke, wiping the tears from her cheeks with her hand.
Her father eyed her seriously. His emotion was gone suddenly and Zoe knew he must have started to employ Occlumency to get through the rest of what he'd pulled out to show her. A big part of her suddenly wished that she knew enough of Occlumency to do the same.
Then she felt guilty for even thinking such a thing.
This couldn't be harder on her than it was on her father. After all, she was only seeing the memories of these past events; her father had lived them and the memories resided permanently in his mind.
And now she had insisted that he relive them for her. Guilt washed over her again. She felt like such a selfish girl.
Soon, the memories formed again and she saw her father in meetings with Dumbledore, Minerva, Professor Lupin, Minister Shacklebolt, and many others.
"Meetings of the Order of the Phoenix," her father explained. "It was an organization Dumbledore started during the first war and reestablished when the Dark Lord rose to power again. We aimed to fight the Dark from as many angles as we could, including from inside the Ministry and within the ranks of the Death Eaters themselves."
She watched events unfold over what her father told her was the next two years. She saw skirmishes and Death Eater revels and snippets of Hogwarts life. She saw her father give Professor Dumbledore a potion and explain to him that he had only a year left to live. She saw her father reach out to a teenaged Draco Malfoy, offering to assist him.
"Assist him with what?" Zoe asked.
"With the assassination of the Headmaster—a task the Dark Lord himself had given Draco after Lucius Malfoy was imprisoned in Azkaban following a failure in the Ministry of Magic."
Zoe nodded, sobered by all the information, but she didn't ask her father to elaborate. She knew how the assassination attempt had turned out and, surprisingly, she found that she didn't want all the details.
Her father was suddenly Headmaster and he sat behind the desk that was now Minerva's as he endured her ire from the rug in front of him.
"Once again, Professor Carrow has used the Cruciatus Curse on a first year, Headmaster," Minerva said tersely to her father, her hands on her hips. "You must do something. Dumbledore would never have—"
Her memory-father's hands came down hard on the desk in front of him, effectively cutting Minerva off, as he stood, his eyes narrowed dangerously at her.
"The Carrows were Death Eaters assigned to the posts of Dark Arts and Muggle Studies at Hogwarts," her father explained to her briefly. "They were placed there by the Dark Lord himself."
"They used the Cruciatus Curse on students?" Zoe asked, horrified.
Her father nodded solemnly. "I prevented Unforgiveable use as much as I could," he said, his voice earnest. "I even administered first aid and potions personally to students who had run afoul of the Carrows' more…inventive disciplinary tactics. But there was only so much I could do, only so much aid that could be explained away as concern for pure magical blood, without raising suspicions."
Zoe nodded her own head in understanding.
"Are you questioning how I run my school, Professor McGonagall?" the memory-headmaster asked her, his tone icy.
"That is precisely what I am doing."
An eyebrow rose on her father's face.
"Need I remind you," her father said silkily, "That you serve this school at the pleasure of the Dark Lord… You have voiced your grievance but should you continue in this manner, should you and your fellow professorscontinue to defy me, I shall have little choice but to have you all sacked and replaced with teachers that are as inclined to demand the same level of decorum and respect as Professors Amycus and Alecto Carrow."
"Is that a threat?" Minerva shot back.
Zoe watched as a malicious smirk took over her memory-father's features.
"Oh no, it is an assured outcome should your cooperation falter."
Minerva's face was mutinous, but wary. She was angry—angrier than Zoe had ever seen her before—but she seemed disinclined to continue goading the wizard in front of her and remained silent.
"You're dismissed, Professor," her father-the-Headmaster said condescendingly then, sitting once more.
Minerva turned to go but, as she opened the door, her father spoke behind her.
"Do send Miss Weasley and Mr. Longbottom in, will you?"
"Why did you threaten to sack Minerva?"
Her father shook his head. "It may have seemed like a threat and it is certain that Minerva took it as such at the time considering she thought me a Death Eater, but I was merely reminding her of her own duty to the students—her own vow to protect them at all costs. She could not have done so were she to fall too far on the wrong side of the Carrows."
"You see, Hogwarts was all but under the control of the Ministry then, which was being controlled by those loyal to the Dark Lord," her father stated. "Harry Potter was on the run—in hiding—with a mission of his own and the greater wizarding world was a very dark, sinister place to be. The Dark Lord had a hand in nearly every facet of everyone's lives and anyone deemed unworthy, such as Muggleborns, anyone who dared to dispute the order of things, was labeled an undesirable. Those people were often rounded up, their livelihoods destroyed. Many were…eliminated."
"That's why you said it was a post you hadn't earned, isn't it?" Zoe asked. She felt like she was in a daze. She looked up to her father. "Being Headmaster… you didn't want it and you didn't like it because… because Voldemort gave it to you?"
Her father paused and inclined his head. "Yes… and no. I was appointed as Headmaster by the Dark Lord; that is true. But it was also Dumbledore's plea that I stay and protect the students, just like Minerva. He had a notion that the Dark Lord would make such an appointment after the Ministry had fallen. In that sense, I was merely fulfilling my part in his ultimate plan."
Zoe nodded and then watched as her father, in the memories, talked with the portraits of the former Headmasters of Hogwarts, including Dumbledore's and the sour man who had called Zoe's Oculomagus abilities a birth defect.
Full scenes continued to play out before her very eyes: she saw her father have various encounters with a seventeen-year-old Professor Longbottom and a red-haired girl Zoe vaguely recognized but couldn't place. Her father had explained that the two students had been the leaders of the student resistance within Hogwarts. She saw him meet with Voldemort and other Death Eaters multiple times, always discussing Mr. Potter and his whereabouts, often ridiculing the feeble endeavors of the seemingly defunct Order of the Phoenix.
Soon after the sour Headmaster, Phineas, entered his portrait in the Headmaster's office and expounded to Zoe's father that he knew where Potter was—the Forest of Dean—her father immediately gathered up his cloak and made his way to the Hogwarts gates. She followed him until he disapparated away. Immediately, the memories shifted and Zoe was in a wintry forest with her father as he searched for Potter using spells and feeling for magical wards.
"Why are you looking for Mr. Potter?" Zoe asked her father.
"I needed to give him the Sword of Gryffindor."
"Why?"
Her father shook his head as they continued to follow his younger version around the forest.
"At the time I didn't know, I was merely following Dumbledore's instructions. I later found out that the sword was Goblin-made and imbued with the venom of a basilisk."
"Is that how Mr. Potter was meant to kill Voldemort?"
Her father inclined his head. "In a manner of speaking. Basilisk venom is a known destroyer of horcruxes."
"Horcruxes?" Zoe asked. She'd never heard the term before.
"Very Dark Magic, the Darkest," her father explained. "It's a piece of one's soul that can be housed in an object and used to keep a person alive. I… I do not think you're old enough to go into the details of how they come to be but, suffice it to say, the Dark Lord possessed several horcruxes and, only through the destruction of his horcruxes could he be killed. That was Harry Potter's mission."
Zoe was horrified that such a thing existed, but she turned back to the memory scene before her, watching as her father stopped and put his hand up to an invisible barrier. Seeming content that he'd found what he was looking for, he stalked to a frozen pond nearby where he pulled out a gleaming silver sword and magicked it beneath the ice and to the bottom of the pond. Then he turned toward the direction of the invisible barrier.
"Expecto Patronum," he incanted forcefully and Zoe saw a misty white image shoot from the end of his wand. It was a deer—a silvery doe.
Once it had left his wand, he hid behind a tree and waited. It didn't take long before Zoe saw Mr. Potter come toward them through the forest, following the doe, as if in a trance. He was cautious of his surroundings, but when he spotted the gleaming sword beneath the surface of the pond, he threw caution to the wind, stripped down to his underthings, and entered the water.
A great struggle took place beneath the water, though Zoe didn't understand why, and her memory-father seemed anxious. He looked around, grumbling beneath his breath, calling Mr. Potter an idiotic boy.
"What's happening?" Zoe asked her father beside her.
"The necklace Potter wore around his neck was a horcrux and it is fighting for its life," her father said. At her puzzled expression, he elaborated. "It can feel it's proximity to the sword and, therefore, its death."
Zoe nodded.
Another minute passed and it was clear that Potter was still struggling beneath the surface of the water. Zoe looked to her memory-father. He was clearly growing irritated that the younger wizard had not resurfaced and, as he pulled out his wand once more, presumably to save Mr. Potter's life, someone else ran from the trees.
A redheaded man came barreling down a slope several yards away and his urgency caused Zoe's memory-father to pause and observe. He stopped at the edge of the pond and looked into it for only a moment before he dove in fully-clothed after Mr. Potter. A few moments passed and then he was pulling Mr. Potter from the pond.
"Who is that?" Zoe asked.
"Ronald Weasley," her father responded.
Zoe looked up to him. "Weasley? Like Louis Weasley, James's cousin?"
Her father nodded. "Harry Potter is married to Ginevra Weasley, Ronald's younger sister. Louis, I believe, is the son of one of their elder brothers. There are a number of Weasleys currently attending Hogwarts."
Zoe nodded. "I knew some of that... So, Mr. Potter knew the Weasleys before the war?"
Her father scoffed at that. "I'd say so. Rarely did Potter find himself in trouble during his school days wherein Mr. Weasley was not by his side."
Zoe didn't respond to that as she watched the scene dissolve in front of her.
"So… you helped Mr. Potter get the sword then you just left him again? Why didn't you tell them you were there?" she asked.
Her father shook his head. "Potter believed me to be a Death Eater still—the Dark Lord's most trusted devotee. The summer before, playing out my part convincingly, I had permanently disfigured another member of the Order during a Death Eater attempt to capture Potter. He would not have trusted me at that moment and, frankly, it was too early for me to show my hand. He could not know the role I played until the time was right, but he needed the sword before that time. Therefore, I returned to Hogwarts and Mr. Potter returned to his own mission."
Images flashed by then but it was nothing more than what she'd already been seeing: her father updating Lord Voldemort and verbally sparring with Minerva in the Headmaster's office. She saw him continue to make threats to Neville Longbottom regarding the teen's defiance of the Carrows, as well as take meetings with various, obvious Death Eaters.
Then, things shifted and he was addressing the student body of Hogwarts, explaining that Harry Potter had been spotted in Hogsmeade. He demanded information from anyone who had it, but nobody spoke up.
Soon, Zoe saw her father confronted by Minerva, Professor Flitwick, and another teacher within Hogwarts. They dueled, but only very briefly before suddenly she was transported to the skies, flying high over the Black Lake.
"How are… How are you flying?" she asked her father beside her, perplexed.
He looked to her with a raised eyebrow.
"It is a skill, I'm not proud to say, I acquired from the Dark Lord."
"You can fly without a broom?!"
Zoe was both incredulous and impressed as her father inclined his head, but spoke no more about it.
She watched as her memory-father came down from the air to stand at the edge of the Forbidden Forest on the opposite edge of the lake from Hogwarts Castle. He watched as the battle waged on.
"What are you doing now?" Zoe asked. "Why aren't you fighting in the battle?"
"I am waiting," her father responded.
"Waiting for what?"
"For the opportune time—the proper moment—to find Potter."
"Why did you have to find him?"
"There was pertinent information I had that he needed in order to defeat the Dark Lord."
"What information? I thought he was prophesied—"
Zoe watched as her father closed his eyes and shook his head. He seemed agitated, but she couldn't tell if it was because of her questions.
In front of her, she could see spells crackling over the castle walls as people on broomsticks flew above the crowd, firing down hexes and doing their best to distract trolls within the grounds. It was frenetic and horrifying. In the distance, she could see flashes of light and hear people calling out to one another. She could hear cries of help, cries of horror and anguish.
Zoe remained quiet for several minutes. As she watched her father, she tried to tune out the war being waged across the sweeping lawn. He had not opened his eyes and his silence was starting to worry her.
Tentatively, she reached out and touched her father's arm in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture, though she also aimed to gain his attention.
"Papa?"
Her father jolted and his eyes opened. He jerked his head to look down at her. He seemed confused—only momentarily so—before his expression melted into a look of sorrow.
"I couldn't help," he said gruffly. "I— I could not enter the fray… I couldn't help them. It has been a long time since I recollected these memories and— I am finding that I still feel helpless."
He shook his head again.
It was then that Zoe noticed her memory-father had crossed to a nearby tree and was retching behind it. She wrinkled her brow and moved closer to him. A burst of spells nearby lit up his face and Zoe could see that it was streaked with tears.
"You're crying," she said aloud, softly, mostly to herself. The image of her younger father acting so vulnerable startled her and saddened her immensely.
"Yes," was all her real father said. He wouldn't meet her eyes.
"Is it because you can't help?" she asked.
"Partially. Mostly, though… I— I was certain I was about to die."
Tears sprang to Zoe's own eyes then, but she didn't get a chance to cry for at that moment, the unmistakable sound of apparition alerted her memory-father and he stood upright, his wand drawn and pointing in the direction of the sound. As he waited, peering cautiously into the woods before him, he composed himself.
Zoe watched as two wizards barreled out of the forest, making their way toward the battle, apparently taking no notice of her father standing mere feet from them.
Almost as soon as they'd passed, her father suddenly hissed in pain and clutched his left arm with his right hand. He rubbed it a moment then Zoe watched as the younger version of her father pointed his wand at his face and cleared it of any indication that he'd been emotional. Straightening his robes, he turned on the spot and was gone.
The scene dissolved and reformed quickly multiples times then. Zoe saw snippets of the battle as her father snuck around deserted corridors of Hogwarts, through one of the inner courtyards, and apparated into classrooms, various teacher's quarters, and about the outside of the castle. From time to time, he'd fire off spells, but there was never enough time in any given event for Zoe to grasp what was going on.
"What are you doing now?" Zoe asked after this went on for several minutes.
"The burn of the Mark put the next hour or so of my life into stark perspective. I may not have been able to enter the fray, but I had a task to complete," her father explained. "I am now looking for Potter and ascertaining whether the Dark Lord's snake, Nagini, is involved in the battle. Dumbledore believed that when the Dark Lord brought her close to him and began to protect her magically, that would be the time when Potter must be given certain information—information I alone was privy to at that time. By this time, it's becoming clear that the Dark Lord has Nagini close. Otherwise, you can be assured that the snake would have been released to do as much damage as possible within Hogwarts. He had always been fond of using her in the most ruthless of ways."
Zoe merely nodded at that information. She'd read about Voldemort's ability to speak Parseltongue and his affinity for snakes, particularly his pet, Nagini. The mere thought of it made her shiver.
The memories stopped shifting suddenly as her memory-father apparated onto the Astronomy Tower, looked around, fired another few spells seemingly randomly, then disapparated away once more.
Everything dissolved again, abruptly, and Zoe was standing in front of a teenaged Harry Potter, battle-worn, breathing heavily, his wand drawn, and revulsion in his eyes.
Zoe followed his gaze to see that he had his eyes and his wand trained on her father across an unfamiliar dungeon corridor from him. Her father was also catching his breath. He had his wand drawn and pointing at Mr. Potter as well. The battle could still be heard above them, though distantly.
"I'm warning you, Snape—"
Her father, though still very much on his guard, rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up, Potter. Despite your gallant attempts, you've failed to disarm or maim me in any way. I even side-alonged you here before you were even aware of what was happening. Do you think I'm worried that you're 'warning me'?"
"You slimy, traitorous—"
Suddenly, her father stepped forward and Harry Potter went flying back, having been on the receiving end of some unspoken hex from her father.
"Traitor?! You dare call me traitor?!"
"It's what you are!" Mr. Potter screamed indignantly, pushing himself up from the floor. "Dumbledore trusted you! You bloody, traitorous coward!"
Mr. Potter was thrown back again, just as he'd gotten back onto his feet.
"DON'T CALL ME COWARD!"
Zoe's eyes were wide, horrified by what she was witnessing. She looked up to her real father, but he wasn't looking at her. He was watching the scene, his expression stony.
Her memory-father was upon Potter now, standing over him, his wand pointed at the teenager's head. When Potter tried to stand again, her father bared his teeth and a force issued from his wand, holding the teenager in place on the flagstones.
"If you know what's good for you, you'll stay down and listen," her father said silkily.
"I'm not listening to anything you have to say," Potter said heatedly.
"A mature and measured response, as usual."
"You greasy—"
Mr. Potter was suddenly silenced by a spell and her memory-father sighed dramatically, annoyed.
"I assure you, Mr. Potter, this encounter could be far more unpleasant than it already is if you continue to fight me. Your dueling skills are appalling and you have still failed to employ even a rudimentary defense of your thoughts. Even your movements are telling."
Mr. Potter huffed, his face resentful, angry. He struggled against the force holding him still.
"I am well aware of your misguided, impulsive need to avenge the Headmaster," her father said to him then, his voice softer, "Oh, yes. But I am not your enemy tonight. All along, we have shared a common foe."
Mr. Potter's brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to respond, but realized he was still silenced, and closed it again. He stopped struggling against her father's spell, listening.
Her father watched Potter for several moments as if sizing him up. Mr. Potter's clothes were dirty and torn. He looked tired and haunted. His eyes conveyed great loss and great determination but, also, a glimmer of fear.
"Suffice it to say, you are wasting your energy fighting me when you have a mission to accomplish. I have information for you that is pertinent to that mission."
Mr. Potter met her father's eyes then, his expression shocked.
"That's right, Potter. You were not the only one entrusted with certain tasks in this war. I, unfortunately, have been given the odious task of making sure you succeed in yours."
Potter's brow was still knitted together in intrigue, confusion, or perhaps wariness—Zoe couldn't be sure.
"I'm going to release you now," her father said to the younger wizard. "Try to refrain from hexing me until I've said my piece."
Potter's eyes narrowed suspiciously but he nodded his head. Her father released the spell and held his hand down to Mr. Potter in an uncharacteristic show of camaraderie. Potter didn't take the offered hand, however. He stood and took several steps back from Zoe's memory-father. He clutched his wand loosely at his side, but Zoe knew he probably could have had it at the ready before she could blink.
Her father lowered his wand to his side as well.
Overhead, a great boom could be heard, perhaps an explosion of some sort. Just as Mr. Potter and her father did within the memory, Zoe looked up at the ceiling above, curious what had caused such a noise as the floor beneath them shook with the aftershock.
Potter looked back at her father.
"Not my enemy?" he said, his voice hardly conveying trust.
"As I said, I have information for you."
"What information could possibly come from a Death Eater that would be of any value to me?"
Zoe's father's eyes narrowed maliciously. He grit his teeth, his jaw flexing.
"Value to you?! Do you think only of yourself? We are at war! The information I have is of value to whole bloody wizarding world!"
Potter scoffed, which caused her father's face to become frightfully creased in anger. He growled.
"Dumbledore always put far more trust in you than I think you're worthy of, but he's the brains behind this operation and according to him, you're this world's best hope. Merlin helps us all."
Her father's outburst seemed to have curbed Mr. Potter's attitude sufficiently.
"Dumbledore?" Potter asked dumbly, his eyes suddenly wide. "What has— Dumbledore has—"
"Yes, Potter, Dumbledore is still running things beyond the grave."
"How—"
Another boom sounded above them. It seemed closer this time and dust began to rain down from the plaster above them. Her father shook his head and began to rummage in his robes.
"There isn't time to explain," he said quickly then. "Come here, Potter."
Mr. Potter looked wary and clutched his wand a bit tighter, unwilling to move.
Her father growled in frustration again.
"Damn it, Potter. Don't you think if I'd wanted you dead, you would be by now?"
"You could just want to apparate me into Voldemort's presence like you apparated me here," Potter countered.
Her father looked to the heavens. "You'll have to trust that I won't do that, then," he snarled. "Get over here. What I'm about to do is going to take an enormous amount of energy and I'll need your hands to assist."
Potter's brow furrowed again and he hesitated for far longer than Zoe felt was necessary. But, tentatively, after several moments appraising the man before him, he stepped toward her father and, when her father handed him a large vial, Potter took it without questioning.
Potter still looked wary as her father raised his wand to his temple and closed his eyes. His face took on a pained look then, he started to extricate a thick gossamer strand from his temple. Simultaneously, strands of memory started to come from his tear ducts as well.
Her father's knees buckled then and Potter, alarmed, did his best to support her father, his instincts to help someone clearly in pain overpowering his caution and distrust. He took to his knees beside the older wizard.
"Take them," her father croaked out breathlessly, indicating the memories. "Quickly, take them."
Potter pushed the mouth of the vial to her memory-father's cheek, allowing the memory strands to flow into the glass container. After that, he steadied her father's shaking wand hand and the memories attached to its tip flowed into the vial, adding to the rest.
Zoe looked up to her current father briefly. His demeanor hadn't changed this whole time, despite Zoe's ever-fluctuating emotions with what she was seeing.
"Take them to the pensieve," her father said, now lying on his back on the cold dungeon floor.
BOOM!
That explosion seemed directly above their heads.
Zoe watched Mr. Potter look up into the dust coming down around them, then down to the memories, before looking back into her father's eyes.
"I can't leave you here like this. You're weak," Potter said.
Even in his weakened state, her father managed an annoyed scowl. "I will recover my strength. Go."
"Not before that battle blows up the floor above. You're likely to be crushed to death."
"Then I will be crushed to death!" her father shouted at the boy, putting energy into pushing him away. "Go, you fool!"
Potter stood, shocked, and started to back away from her father. He looked conflicted.
BOOM!
"Professor…"
"GO! You dunderheaded boy! There isn't time!"
Potter steeled his face and nodded then.
"And Potter…"
Mr. Potter stopped and turned back to the wizard on the floor.
"Do try not to get yourself killed before you have a chance to see those memories."
The scene dissolved then and, suddenly, Zoe was in the destroyed Entrance Hall. She turned about briefly, unsure of where to focus her attention. Then she saw Minerva exit the Great Hall where it looked as if a triage area had been set up. Dozens of people were inside. Zoe could hear crying and could see people embracing. Some people looked to be in shock, their gazes unfocused.
To say that Minerva looked battle-worn was a bit of an understatement. The elderly witch's hair was sticking out from its normally pristine bun and her robes were dirty and torn in several places. She looked beyond exhausted as she turned toward the main stairway and began to ascend.
But something caught her attention and she paused, looking across the Entrance Hall.
"Headmaster?" she said curiously and Zoe whipped around to see her father nearing the main door in what appeared to be a hasty exit.
"Where are you off to?" Minerva asked.
Her father didn't respond and Minerva descended the few stairs she'd climbed and moved toward him.
"You're leaving, aren't you?"
Zoe's real father grabbed her upper arm then.
"You know this part," he said frankly.
Zoe felt a slight tug on her arm and, suddenly, she and her father were in his potions laboratory once more.
Zoe sat across from Severus, silent, staring at him for several minutes.
Though he hoped his daughter was seeing nothing but pensive resignation on his face, just below the surface, he felt himself being wracked with emotions he'd put away for the better part of twenty years. He was rattled in a way he hadn't felt in decades, but he did his best to compose himself for his daughter's sake.
"Are you okay?" Severus looked up into his daughter's black eyes.
"I'm fine," he said simply, words feeling forced in his current state.
"You don't look fine," the girl replied bluntly.
Damn.
Severus merely gave a subtle shake of his head and looked away from her. When he glanced back several minutes later, Zoe was still staring at him, perched on the edge of her chair, as tears rolled silently down her face.
"I've been awful," she pronounced then, the words coming out as a sob.
Severus shook his head. "You haven't been," he placated. "I do not blame you your initial reaction to finding out, nor do I condemn it."
More tears flowed from Zoe's eyes. "But you weren't really ever a true Death Eater... You—"
"Zoe," Severus stopped her. "I was a Death Eater. A true one. I made horrendous mistakes in my youth and, though much of the wizarding world may see my actions in the Second War and my protection of Harry Potter to be my redemption, I will always regret turning to the Dark Lord for validation and power. I will always regret that my actions led to the deaths of many. And… I will always regret keeping these secrets from you. As I said, I do not condemn your reaction to discovering the truth of my past. I should have been honest with you about these events from the start."
Zoe stared at him and nodded her head subtly, though Severus didn't feel as if his words were comforting her guilt in the slightest. The girl was subdued—shocked, perhaps. It would take quite a while for her to process fully what she had seen; it could take years before she matured enough to truly understand all his actions and motivations.
"So…why did you keep all this a secret, then?" Zoe asked tentatively, wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her robes.
Severus met his daughter's eyes briefly, then looked away. That was a hard question for, to answer it, he'd have to be honest with himself for once—something he'd decidedly not been since Zoe had been born. He'd always used her protection, her innocence, as a scapegoat for his true motivations.
But no more.
Inhaling deeply, he answered her.
"Shame, mostly," he said quietly. "And cowardice. As you saw, my past…it isn't something I'm particularly proud of… I—" He looked down at his hands in his lap. "I didn't want you to think less of me for it."
He could feel his daughter's eyes on him. Her irises were still deep ebony in color, reflecting his own, both in shape and hue. As usual in these deeply emotional moments, Severus couldn't be quite sure if she had morphed them intentionally or if some underlying, unconscious feeling was triggering the change.
Zoe stood then, came around the small table upon which the pensieve sat, and walked toward him with conviction but, as she stopped next to his leg, she grew hesitant.
"I'm not—" she paused and took a deep breath, tears still in her eyes. "I'm still a bit angry you didn't tell me before. But… I think I understand why you didn't. I think..."
She took another shuddering breath.
"I can ask more questions? Later, I mean?" she asked, her expression expectant.
Severus stared at her then, slowly, nodded his head.
Zoe gave her own curt nod of approval.
Slowly, she closed the gap between them and pushed herself into the chair to sit beside him. Severus obliged, scooting to his right to give his daughter more space for both their thin frames to sit comfortably within the large chair.
Once Zoe was in place, she leaned her head against Severus's shoulder and just cried. And Severus let her. He didn't speak, he tried not to think—he just wanted to be there in this moment, consoling his daughter. He did raise the arm that he had looped around Zoe and rested his hand on the side of her head, holding her comfortingly in place against his shoulder. He turned his head and pressed his lips against the fringe on her forehead, kissing her softly.
He didn't know how many minutes had passed but, by the time she stirred beside him, the embers in the fire had burned down to a very low glow and the laboratory had started to grow chilly once more.
When Zoe lifted her head away from him, Severus was able to shift enough to pull his wand from his robes and reignite the fire.
"I could eat," he said rather casually then, looking to Zoe.
She turned her head to look at him and nodded her agreement.
"Ollie," Severus called and the house elf popped into existence before him.
"Mister Severus is wanting breakfasts now?" Ollie asked, nodding her head toward Zoe in acknowledgement of her presence.
"I think the time is more suited to brunch," Severus stated calmly.
"Yes, Mister Severus. Is Miss Zoe wantings pumpkin juice this morning?"
"Er… could I just have a glass of milk, please, Ollie?"
Ollie nodded and disapparated to fetch their late breakfast. Leaving Zoe sitting in the chair, Severus moved forward and began to siphon the memories in the pensieve onto the tip of his wand and place them back into his mind.
Zoe watched him, but didn't ask any questions. When he was finished, Severus rose and took the pensieve to place it upon one of the workbenches across the room. Walking back toward the sitting area, he took a seat upon the chair Zoe had vacated to wait for Ollie to bring their food.
However, as soon as he had sat down, Zoe stood and joined him on the same chair once more, causing Severus to raise an eyebrow, both mildly amused and immensely heartened by her want to be beside him. He didn't comment, but accommodated her next to him once more as she leaned her head against his shoulder again.
They sat silently and, when Ollie brought their food, Severus didn't voice his thought that eating was going to be considerably more difficult wedged together as they were. He simply took his wand from his robes and expanded the surface of the small table a bit to accommodate two plates of English fry up.
"How did you survive…in the end?" Zoe asked him over an hour later as she helped him prepare ingredients for the coughing solution he'd intended to brew that morning before she'd entered his laboratory. "They said Voldemort had marked you for death…because of the Elder Wand. But you were still able to find Mr. Potter and give him the information he needed, even though you thought you were going to die that night."
Severus nodded, looking away from the simple honey he'd been measuring into his cauldron. "I survived by ignoring his summons. For the first time since taking the Dark Mark, I ignored it. I defied him. And as you saw, I went to search for Potter instead."
"Did it hurt? Defying him, I mean."
Severus paused, grappling with being honest with her and wishing to spare her the gory details.
"Immensely," he said eventually. "Once activated, the Mark was designed to burn more intensely the longer a Death Eater remains away from the Dark Lord's presence. Defectors of the Death Eaters were always found in excruciating pain—or they had self-amputated their left arms in order to keep from going mad from the pain."
Zoe's eyes were wide and haunted and Severus felt a pang of guilt in his chest for being so graphic. He almost thought he could see the innocence leaving her eyes with every word he uttered.
"To keep the pain somewhat at bay, I Occluded for nearly the entirety of the conversation with Potter that you witnessed. At some point, I know I passed out in agony. When I came to quite a bit later, the Mark no longer burned and it had faded considerably from my arm, though it was still visible, as you know. I knew then that Potter had succeeded."
Zoe's brows knitted together and she went back to quietly grating the ginger root he'd given her. Eventually, however, more questions were forthcoming.
"What memories did you give Mr. Potter?"
"Essentially, I showed him what you just saw."
"Everything I saw?" Zoe asked skeptically. "I still don't know what information you gave him that would have helped him defeat Voldemort…"
Severus gave her a conciliatory look. "I showed him a bit more...a few…different things."
Zoe didn't look happy about that, but she nodded, seeming to concede.
"I showed him all that," Severus continued, "and it gave him the knowledge and the wherewithal to defeat the Dark Lord."
"Did the knowledge have to do with the horcruxes?" she asked curiously.
Severus felt a warm, familiar sensation move into his chest—the pride of a father whose child had surprised him with her astonishing ability to put the pieces together. He inclined his head.
"It did. Particularly, regarding a horcrux that had been created inadvertently the night Potter's parents were killed by the Dark Lord."
"I read that Mr. Potter had to sacrifice himself to Voldemort. Does—" Zoe stopped, her face contorted in an odd expression of concentration. "Does that mean that…that Mr. Potter had a horcrux inside him?"
"Yes, he did," Severus answered quietly, watching his daughter.
Zoe nodded and stared off into space deep in thought. Eventually, she shook her head as if trying to clear it.
They were silent for a long time after that. Zoe did an excellent job of helping him prepare for the large batch of potion and, when he started to brew the rather simple concoction, she assisted him in adding the ingredients at the appropriate time.
Once the potion had been apportioned into a hundred individual doses, Severus suggested they move to his quarters for the remainder of the day. Zoe nodded her head, still subdued from the weight of the knowledge that she'd obtained so early that morning.
In his quarters, Severus took up a book to distract his own thoughts as Zoe stretched out on the sofa beside him, gazing into the fire. Within minutes, she was asleep.
When she awoke several hours later, Severus was at his desk across the room, forcing himself to compose a quiz for his seventh years to take before term ended in a week.
Zoe went to use the loo and returned to the living room a few minutes later, opting to sit on the rug nearer the fire. She still looked exhausted and as she shivered as the warmth started to envelop her, Severus decided that, despite her having class in the morning, he'd insist that she sleep in his quarters that night so that he could administer a Dreamless Sleep potion and monitor that she slept the full night. She could use the rest.
Setting the quiz aside, he rose and took up a seat on the sofa once more.
"Do you think it wise to inform Miss Wickham as to your whereabouts?" he asked his daughter, realizing then that Zoe had likely left her dormitory before her roommate was awake.
Zoe shook her head. "I left her a note."
Severus gave a nod of his head and sat quietly once more. Frankly, the quiet was starting to drive him mad.
He sighed heavily, causing Zoe to turn to look at him.
"I feel that you are a bit…distant. That we are being distant with each other," he said frankly then. "I am not expecting an instant return to our normal rapport but…are you all right?"
Zoe shrugged.
"Are you all right?" she deflected.
When Severus gave her a stern glare, she looked away from him. "I'm just… thinking a lot, I suppose," she explained. She was silent again.
"Zoe, what are you thinking about? Do you have more questions for me, perhaps? It's acc—" He was surprised to hear his voice catch with sudden emotion. He steadied himself and started again. "It's perfectly acceptable for you to still be angry with me. I understand that. But recall what we spoke of earlier… I need to know how you're taking all this."
Zoe's eyes locked with his. "It's just… I suppose I am a bit disappointed in what you did back then, as a Death Eater," she said genuinely. "I mean, but… well, it's in the past, isn't it? And… and you turned to the Light side when you realized you'd been wrong and you did help Mr. Potter and…"
She paused and huffed in frustration, apparently with her own inability to explain sufficiently.
Severus noticed then that her right hand was curled into a fist and she was anxiously pounding it into the rug. He rose quickly and reached to help his daughter to her feet. She stood easily and allowed him to pull her to sit beside him on the sofa.
Tears sprang to her eyes again.
"I hate that I keep crying," she said, her voice nasally.
"You're entitled to express your emotions in whatever way they come to you," Severus stated simply. "I will not judge them."
Zoe seemed to relax a bit with that statement. She sniffled.
"Minerva was right," Zoe said then.
Severus wrinkled his brow. "In what way?"
Zoe gazed into the fire. "That day I skived Defense and she dragged me to class… She was so cross with me, Papa. I thought she was going to… well, I don't know what she was going to do, but she was so angry. She told me that I had no right to make you feel ashamed for all that in your past because you'd already paid your penance. She was right. I see that now; it's really hard for you to live with. At least, I think I see that now. I still don't understand everything that you did or why."
Severus didn't know what to say to that so he merely nodded, content to let her express her feelings on the matter.
"You did it all for Lily, didn't you?" Zoe asked him then, looking up to him. "You went to Dumbledore because Voldemort thought the prophecy was about her and Mr. Potter and you protected Mr. Potter at school and vowed to help him…all for her? Because…you loved her?"
He couldn't help the pained expression that had no doubt enveloped his features. Slowly, he nodded his head, looking his daughter directly in the eye.
"Did you ever love Mum like that?"
A jolt went through Severus. He hadn't imagined… he hadn't prepared himself for such a question and, now that she'd voiced it, he internally kicked himself for not having anticipated it.
Of course… he'd spent several hours explaining to his daughter—attempting to explain, anyway—his motivations for what he'd done so many years ago. And Zoe had picked up many of the intricacies far better than he'd expected of an eleven-year-old. He should have seen this question coming.
"Zoe, adult emotions of attachment are very complicated," he began tentatively, doing his best not to be too patronizing in the way that he addressed this with her. After all, she'd proven to him that she could handle mature subjects relatively well for her age and, though he'd told her that she was not his confidante, he could see that he'd have to convey a certain level of candor when it came to this subject.
"I did care for your mother," he continued, "At a time when I was merely existing, not truly living, she somehow managed to bring me out of my self-imposed shell. After the war, I thought I was starting anew by exiling myself and living nearly exclusively in the Muggle world but, in reality, I was miserable. I was running away from what I was. Your mother… well, for a time, she was a great influence in bringing me out of that."
Zoe stared at her father for several moments, her brow knitted together. "But did you love her?" she asked again, stubbornly, tears pooled at the bottoms of her eyes.
Severus sighed and sat back against the cushions. He pulled his elbow up onto the arm of the sofa and put his chin into his hand. He was quiet for several minutes, but Zoe waited, sensing, as she had always seemed to, that he was thinking critically of how to answer her.
It was a question, frankly, that he'd asked himself a thousand times over the years and never been able to answer within his own mind. But, as he sat beside his inquisitive, intelligent, passionate, and forgiving child, his feelings became abundantly obvious to him. So obvious that he couldn't believe he'd never realized them before.
Finally, he looked back to his daughter.
"How could I not love her?" he spoke then, his voice soft and resolved. "She gave me you."
A single tear fell from the pool at the bottoms of Zoe's eyes, but her face was no longer expressing distrust, skepticism, or determination. Her features had melted into what Severus could only define as warmth and fondness as her mouth curled up into a small smile.
Severus sat forward and took both his daughter's hands in his.
"I don't say it enough," he began, looking her directly in the eyes, "but you make me so proud, every day."
Zoe smiled again but looked down at her hands. "Thanks, Papa," she said quietly, bashful.
She moved to sit a bit closer beside him and Severus looped his arm around her. They sat quietly watching the fire for several minutes.
"What were your plans for the Easter break?" he asked.
Zoe shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just reckoned, I mean, if we were still not talking, well, I supposed I'd just stay here."
"You did not put your name on the list to do so," he observed, having collected the list of Slytherins remaining at the castle the previous morning. No first or second years had signed up to stay.
Zoe squirmed beside him. "Er, well, I just assumed you'd let me. I mean, if you were staying… But even if you weren't, I thought—"
"You thought I'd give you the space."
Again, Zoe shrugged. Then, she nodded sheepishly, glancing up to his face briefly.
Severus lifted a single eyebrow upward. "That was certainly presumptuous of you," he commented. "Though, you're probably right."
Zoe's lip twitched up infinitesimally.
Severus sobered.
"Forgive my change of theme, but since we are back to…understanding one another, if however tentatively," he began again. "I wonder if you'd be amenable to my running something by you for consideration—something I've been thinking on since the New Year."
"What's that?"
"As you know, Mr. Constantine has left us a house. I have been putting some thought to our current living arrangement and would like your thoughts on possibly…relocating."
Zoe wrinkled her brow and pulled away so as to look at him more clearly. "Move away from Spinner's End?"
Severus gave a singular nod of his head. "I believe Hammersmith to be an acceptable area of London. The house in Ravenscourt Road is near a large park and, though I have yet to enter it, it would no doubt increase the amount of space we are accustomed to having in our home."
Zoe considered her father for a few minutes. "I don't know…"
"Which brings me to a proposal: a trial, of sorts. We'll spend the Easter holiday in Ravenscourt Road, settle into the house a bit, maybe talk about any improvements we can think of, and decide things before the end of the final term of the year. Is this agreeable?"
Zoe nodded. "Yeah, all right."
Severus inclined his head.
"This does not mean we are shelving any work on your continued underlying, though understandable, anger and resentment toward my secrecy or that I am unaware that I have a bit of a road to regaining your complete trust in me."
Zoe looked back into the fire and nodded.
"We'll get there," she said softly, confidently.
Severus was surprised by her sincerity and optimism. Where does that come from? he asked himself. Certainly not from the Snape line.
Nonetheless, her wise-beyond-her-years words bolstered him and he felt hope for their future after weeks of believing they'd never be the same again.
Please, please, please review! Don't make me beg. Though I will if I must. PLEASE.