Chapter 49

Skyrah was grading essays on the Goblin Rebellions fourth-graders had written for homework. The scribbling sound mixed with the occasional babbling of Corbin and noises of wooden blocks being piled, one of Poppy's many gifts. She spoiled the child, but knowing she had never given birth to a baby of her own, the Snapes let her. Skyrah was actually thankful Poppy had given the wooden blocks to Corbin. They kept him entertained, meaning Skyrah could correct without too many interruptions. Right then, Corbin was focused on adding another piece to his tower. Although he could stand steadily on his feet, balancing on his tiptoes was not one of the skills he had mastered yet. As he tried to add another block to the top of the tower he was building, the inevitable happened.

He stumbled.

The building collapsed.

Skyrah cringed at the clatter, but relaxed when she heard claps and peals of laughter. Corbin was fine, now bent on building a taller tower, or better yet, two tall towers, one next to the other. If Severus had been in Skyrah's office rather than in a meeting with the Deputy Heads, he would have commented on Corbin's slytherin determination with a smirk.

Someone knocked.

Skyrah evaded the fallen blocks across the floor and opened the door.

"Hello, Neville."

"Hello, Professor. May I enter?"

"You may," she said with a smile. "Please watch your step. My son reckons spreading wooden blocks across the floor is fun."

Corbin blew a raspberry as if he understood her by her tone and accusing glance, opposing her. Neville restrained a grin, trying to keep serious while Skyrah shut the door after him, muttering under her breath that she'd have to teach her son some manners.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, Neville?" she asked as she sat down, gesturing for Neville to take the seat in front of her desk.

He complied. He was about to speak up when something, or rather, someone, tugged at his trousers. Neville looked down at Corbin and gasped. He was the spitting image of the teacher who had frightened him for years looked, alright, but his chubbier face created an innocent aura around him, an innocence Neville doubted Severus had ever had.

"Play?"

His gaze followed the direction Corbin was pointing to – a two-block tower and a three-block tower – and fixed back on the impish toddler, who was staring at him with big, attentive eyes, awaiting an answer.

"Er, I… You see… Ugh…"

"You didn't come here to have a conversation with my son, did you?" Skyrah asked, amused yet stern.

A faint blush rose to Neville's cheeks. "N-no. I wanted to talk to you..."

Corbin pouted, not liking one bit how Neville was ignoring him. "Blocks!"

Neville glanced at Corbin and back at Skyrah. She waved a hand as if telling him not to mind Corbin.

"You see… I have one request… I wanted to ask if you–" Corbin grunted and tugged at Neville's uniform trousers more insistently. "If you would–"

"Plaaaaaay!"

"For Merlin's beard!" Skyrah cried out, rubbing her forehead. "Neville, excuse us."

She rose from her seat and sat cross-legged in front of Corbin. She tapped at his back, turning his attention from Neville to herself.

"Play?" asked Corbin, pointing to the half-made towers.

Although his eyes were of the same dark brown shade she possessed, they did not resemble hers but her husband's at that moment. They glistened and widened slightly like Severus's did whenever he looked at her hopeful.

"Later, sweetheart. I have to work. Play on your own like you've done until now."

"No!"

She gaped. "Corbin Alexander Snape, now it is not the time to be fussy. Behave."

She lowered her voice at the last word, using her strict-teacher face. He blew another raspberry. Little rebel, thought Skyrah. Endearing as she found him, she raised an eyebrow in disapproval. Corbin pouted and lowered his head. A few seconds later, he was extending his arms.

"Kiss?"

She rolled her eyes. Just like his father. They both snapped first and sought kisses and cuddles later. And she always gave them to them both. How could she not? She took Corbin in her arms and he landed a sloppy kiss on her cheek. She had thought he meant he wanted a kiss of hers, not to kiss her. It occurred to her that, despite his young age, Corbin was sharp enough to know that she was cheerier when someone kissed her, and Corbin always wanted to see her happy. Severus is right when he says Corbin is a Slytherin, she thought with a smile, ruffling his hair in adoration, and sat back down on her chair with Corbin on her lap.

"Kiss!"

Oh, now he wanted her kiss. For real. He was even tilting his head to give her an easier access and touching his cheek.

"Now it is not the time. Neville is waiting."

"No kiss?"

Damn. Why did he look so cute? It was hard to deny him anything.

"No kiss yet." She summoned Nox and handed it over, poking its beak against Corbin's hooked nose as if the crow kissed him for the time being. Corbin beamed. "Show Neville you are a good son."

"Me good."

And he lay against her, holding Nox close. Skyrah took a big breath and met Neville's eyes, hoping her cheeks did not look as crimson as she intuited.

"I apologize for the scene we caused. What is your request?"

Neville stared at his fidgeting feet, pondering how to convey his messy thoughts. Skyrah waited in silence until he plucked up the courage to look her in the eye and say, "Teach Defense Against the Dark Arts." As an afterthought, he added a weak please.

A bittersweet taste invaded her mouth, feeling content with the realization Neville appreciated her job as a Defense Professor yet useless for being unable to teach Defense again, let alone change Amycus's teaching methods.

"That is not my job this year. Professor Carrow is in charge of the subject."

"Lead Dumbledore's Army, then."

Yes, yes, yes, she wanted to shout. She bit her bottom lip to restrain herself. A lump formed in her throat. She had promised herself she would be the teacher she had to be, not the teacher she would like to be. She looked down at Corbin, who was sucking his thumb, and back at Neville. He was wiping the sweat off his forehead. The tapping sound his shoes made indicated he was still fidgeting. He was courageous enough to come and ask her, yet here she was, trapped in her own fears.

"I can't," she said firmly, yet her face was contorted in pain.

Neville didn't miss the way she tightened her grip on Corbin.

"Have... Have the Carrows..."

"Have the Carrows?" she prompted, noticing he was playing with his sleeves.

"My question is too personal…"

"I will decide whether to answer it or not, then."

He met her eyes.

"Have the Carrows threatened you and your son? Is that why you are teaching us as if You-Know-Who's side were benevolent and use words like blood traitor and mudbl–, er, you-know-what in class? We all know you don't believe in that. You always cringe when you say the words."

She occluded. It was the only way she would not show him how embarrassed with herself she was, how hypocritical she felt for using those terms when they had always disgusted her. Somehow, that detachment on her face, that mask she had started wearing this year in front of her students, did not fool them. They had been taught by her before. They were used to her smirks and proud smiles, to her shining eyes.

"Please. You are our hope. We fooled Professor Umbridge once."

"She was one person. The Carrows are two, more vicious than Professor Umbridge ever was."

"But that is exactly why we need you to teach us Defense. The infirmary is always full. If it weren't for Hannah and Dione, Madam Pomfrey would be overwhelmed. Professor Carrow asked us to crucio first-years yesterday."

Tears gathered in her eyes. Her occlumency walls were being demolished. Monsters, she thought.

"We want to learn Defense, not the Dark Arts. You have to help us. You can talk to the Headmaster, ask him to swap subjects with Professor Carrow. He will hurt us anyway, but at least we will be learning how to defend ourselves."

"My husband will not allow me to teach Defense or lead Dumbledore's Army again. I don't want to, either. I'd be endangering my family. I'm sorry, Neville," she croaked.

He stared at her, telling himself he had heard wrong. He hadn't. When it became clear that she had nothing to add, he stood up. He was no longer suppliant or anxious. He was determined, no longer fidgeting. She had never seen him so serious, so mature.

"You have changed. You used to be braver, to teach the way you wanted. You looked happy when you taught. Now you look forced, as if you'd rather be doing something else. Everybody's noticed, but nobody dares to tell you to teach like you used to do. We are all afraid."

With that said, he walked towards the exit. He was about to push the handle when Skyrah called his name. Full of hope, he turned his face to look at her.

"I am proud of you for not being afraid to ask for help to learn."

By the way his face fell, she had disappointed him just as much as he had surprised her with his request. No student had ever looked at her the way Neville was doing. For Skyrah, it felt worse than being looked at in fear. The door banged closed, and she was left alone with her son and a disturbing feeling that sucked the oxygen from the office. She put the essays and Nox aside and sat Corbin on the edge of the table, letting his little legs hang. As promised, she cupped his chin and kissed his cheek. When she made to pull away, Corbin circled her neck and kept her close to him, sensing she needed a hug. She needed it, indeed.

"I love you," she said. It sounded like a sob. "I love you with all my heart, Corbin Alexander Snape."

She put her hands on his back, rubbing it softly.

"Play?" he asked, making her chuckle.

"Yes," she said, pulling back with one last forehead kiss. "Let's play, my little crow."

They built and crushed five towers. By the time they started building the sixth tower, Corbin began to rub his belly. She peeked at the clock on the wall. It was Corbin's dinner time, indeed. A wave of her wand, and the wooden blocks piled on her desk, next to the essays. Corbin pouted. The corners of his eyes crinkled. He was about to bawl.

"Blocks!"

"We'll play blocks tomorrow, sweetheart. Now it is dinner time. Your father is waiting for us, and I know you want to eat."

He tilted his head, no longer upset. "Eat?"

"Eat," she said with a smile.

He raised his arms towards her in a silent petition to hold him. She complied, thinking he was getting heavier and heavier each day, and accioed Nox. On their way to the chambers, Corbin nuzzled his hooked nose on the crook of her neck and screwed his eyes shut. His fingers clutched the collar of her shirt. He was scared of most portraits. Some were too loud, complaining all the time. Others looked too big. The only portraits he liked were the ones from the headmaster's office, including Albus's and, strangely, Phineas's, from whom Skyrah suspected Corbin had learned to blow raspberries.

They reached their chambers at last. Corbin opened his eyes as soon as he detected that smell of home: a faint scent of potions and herbs.

"Dada!"

Severus unburied his nose from the Daily Prophet and flashed his son a smile. He rose from the armchair, leaving the newspaper on the seat, and kissed both Corbin and Skyrah on the cheek.

"Corbin's dinner is ready," he said, jerking his head towards the kitchen's door.

Skyrah nodded and lowered Corbin to the floor so that he stood. "I'll feed him. Keep reading."

Her voice had sounded more tired than expected. That plus the fact she hadn't kissed Severus on the cheek in gratefulness told him something was off. He grabbed her wrist before she could go to the kitchen.

"You took long… Were you grading?"

She hummed. "And playing blocks."

"Blocks!" repeated Corbin, bouncing.

Severus's gaze moved from Corbin to Skyrah. The hand that had clutched her wrist travelled up towards her shoulder blade. By the sigh she let out, she hadn't realized just how tense she was until he massaged the zone, but he had. Suddenly, he kneeled and looked at Corbin, ignoring her moan of protest at the loss of his touch.

"Playing blocks has exhausted your mother, Son. She deserves to rest, don't you agree?" Severus tilted his head. "What can she do to relax? Maybe a…"

He rubbed Corbin's shoulders and back as if he were bathing his son. Skyrah rolled her eyes, knowing full well Severus was prompting Corbin to say the word…

"Bath!"

Severus grinned triumphantly. "Marvelous idea, Son. Your mother will have a bath while I feed you."

"Severus…" She put an arm on his shoulders. "The meeting with the Carrows must have been tense. You must be tired, too. I'll look after Corbin. I'm okay, really."

"Bath!" chirped Corbin. "Mama! Bath!"

Severus smirked, eyes sparkling in mischief. "Listen to your son, Skyrah."

Skyrah didn't know if she should feel offended Severus was using Corbin to influence her or if she should be touched Severus knew she was not feeling okay even though she hadn't told him about Neville yet. Seeing she was not walking towards the bathroom but staring at him, Severus stood up and cupped her face, no trace of playfulness in his eyes.

Softly, he said, "Go have a bath and relax. You look like you need it." She wrinkled her nose, offended. "We only want the best for you. We…" He gulped. "I care for you, remember?"

She did. She knew it. She felt it in his touch, gentle like a summer breeze. Skyrah sighed and put her hand above his, eyes shut. He kissed her eyelids, the pressure so subtle she almost missed it.

"Take your time. Use the bath salts. Sing. Corbin and I will be fine."

"A bath will not make me forget about everything that is going on."

"It definitely won't if you don't try it."

She sighed and nodded reluctantly.


She had been right. A bath had not made her forget, but she felt better after it. She suspected the smell of roses the bath salts gave off played an important role in that. She went past Corbin's bedroom, hearing him turning in his bed, sound asleep, and reached the living room. Severus wasn't reading in his armchair, as expected. In fact, he was not in the room. It was then she noticed a peculiar smell invading the place. She sniffed.

Wax?

It led her through the corridors towards the kitchen. Even before opening the door, she felt it was warmer there than in the rest of their quarters. The door opened. Red and white rose petals were spread over the black tablecloth. That wax smell and warmth came from candles that floated above them, creating an intimate atmosphere, the same Severus had created for her thirty-second birthday. Much like she did back then, she gasped.

"It isn't my birthday."

"I am aware," he said with a smirk, putting a bottle of white wine on the table.

He was enjoying her confusion. The git, she thought, not really angry.

"Why…"

"Do I need a motive for having a date with my fiancé other than I feel like it?"

She stared intently at him, as if he were a puzzle to solve. He stared back, holding her hand in his, his thumb caressing the pulse point in her wrist.

"You might not need to, but you were inspired by a motive… You intended to cheer me up, didn't you? The bath had the same purpose."

Always the observant witch, he thought, looking down at their tangled fingers. Voice small, he wondered, "Is it working?"

Her arms circled his neck. It must be working. Up to what point? He did not know. He did know that she was thankful he was doing this for her, though – the cheek kiss she was giving him was proof – and that was more than he had expected. One peck on his lips and she drew back. He looked at her as if hypnotized. Skyrah bet he was unaware of the fact he was grazing the place her lips had brushed. The thought alone caused her heart to throb louder.

"Shall we eat?"

Her question snapped him out of his daze. He pulled out a chair and tilted his head towards it. She let him help her seat and pour some white wine into her glass. Ever the gentleman.

"Do you wish to vent while we have dinner?"

"Mixing work and home isn't suited for a date," she said, holding back a bitter chuckle.

He slid his hand over the tablecloth, towards her hand. He first brushed her fingers with his own.

"I don't think you will fully enjoy the date if whatever happened that upset you is still at the back of your mind."

She stared at their interwoven fingers. He was right. She had a tendency to overthink, like all Horned Serpents. Venting did not sound like a bad idea, after all.

"Neville wants me to become the Defense teacher."

If he was surprised by the fact it had been Neville of all people, he didn't show it.

"You can't."

"I know. I told him so." She removed her fingers from his and grabbed her spoon but made no move to eat just yet. Rather, she stirred the soup lazily. "He proceeded to ask me to lead Dumbledore's Army again."

His whole body tensed. "What did you tell him?"

"That I couldn't."

"Good," he said, unstiffening. "That's good."

"No, it isn't. Students aren't being taught Defense when they need it the most. If only I could find the way to–"

"You cannot get involved in teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, Skyrah, not directly."

"Not directly…" she repeated to herself, grinning slyly.

He was reminded of that one time she infringed the school regulation and taught the way she pleased under Dolores' nose. Now she would suggest something similar. He could smell it in the air and see it in her twinkling eyes, too similar to Albus's. He was about to question her about it when they heard him.

"Severus? Skyrah?"

His voice. Harry's.

The Snapes exchanged looks. Severus summoned the two-way mirror from the kitchen counter. Skyrah stood behind him in a flash, grinning. Her smile faded when she noticed how serious Harry looked. It was the first time he greeted them with a tight-lipped expression.

"What happened?" asked Severus, sternly.

"We got the Locket. The real one."

"But?"

"We can't destroy it. Hermione and I are stuck. Didn't Professor Dumbledore tell you anything? Drop any hints?"

Severus shook his head. "Albus did not tell us how he destroyed the ring. I will ask his portrait, although there is no guarantee he will have the information."

"Fantastic," said Harry, voice heavy with sarcasm.

"You already destroyed one horcrux once, sweetheart. You will find a way to destroy this one."

Harry wanted to believe her, but his hopes were not very high. He massaged his temples and sighed.

"How have you been?"

"Busy," was all Severus said.

He wasn't about to tell Harry that he had interrupted their date. He wouldn't tell him either, that the reason they were having the date in the first place was that they both were stressed out with the situation at school growing murkier and murkier every day, and needed some quality time for themselves.

"I guess you had no time to miss me, then," Harry jested, yet he sounded bitter, so bitter that Skyrah missed the joke.

"How can you say that? We miss you every day, every minute. You are our…"

Son was the word left unsaid. It would only hurt them both if she said it. They would be reminded once again that she cannot act as the mother she'd like, not when Harry was so far away from home, not when she was so powerless she couldn't change his destiny. Not saying the word was the right choice. Or was it? Was it still the right choice if it hurt her so much, if Harry looked at her like a lost dog that had been abandoned by his owner? Whatever the answer was, she couldn't let Harry believe she didn't care for him. Eventually, she whispered, "Our brave boy."

Seeing that was not enough to cheer him up, she traced the reflection of his cheeks with the pad of her thumb, wishing there was no mirror to separate them. Little did she know, Harry could imagine her touch just by closing his eyes. That is what he did.

"I love you like I love Corbin."

Harry opened his eyes, smiling softly at her, and looked at Severus. By the gentle expression on his usually sneering face, Severus wasn't ready to say the words, but Harry knew he cared deeply for him. Perhaps he even loves me.

"I love you both as much as I love my parents, too."

Severus looked down. Harry thought the allusion to Lily was the reason. In truth, Severus was ashamed he had failed to tell Harry, not that he loved him – he hadn't said that to Skyrah yet – but that he cared for him and missed him more than he would have ever imagined.

"May I talk to the Kiddo?" he asked in an attempt to lift the mood.

Corbin always made them smile and chuckle. Plus, communicating in Parseltongue never failed to amuse Harry.

"He's sleeping now," said Severus.

"Oh… Did he pick up new words?"

"A few. Eat, bath, more…"

"And blocks," finished Skyrah for Severus. "Poppy gave him a wooden set. Spreading the pieces across the floor and knocking the towers down has become a pastime of his."

Severus wrinkled his mouth, eliciting a snort from Harry. It was easy to imagine Severus stepping on a wooden toy and letting out a swearword yet being unable to scold little Corbin for playing, not with those big eyes he had inherited from his mother making puppy eyes.

Holding back a chuckle, Harry asked, "Does he behave?"

"For the most part. He is fussy as his mother, though," teased Severus, glancing at Skyrah.

She did not nudge him or roll her eyes, as expected. Instead, she was staring pensively at Harry.

"Sweetheart, what did you mean 'Hermione and I'? Where's Ronald?"

Severus raised his eyebrows and looked back at Harry, who was scowling like a true Snape.

"He left."


Corbin slept peacefully in his bedroom despite the temperature – it had fallen these past few weeks since Neville's request. The charms Skyrah and Severus put on his woolly blankets made that possible. Somehow, the occasional creaks, sighs and soft moans that came from the studio, not far from Corbin's bedroom, did not disturb him even if his parents had forgotten to cast any silencing charms. Skyrah was straddling Severus on his chair, grinding on his bulge while he nibbled her weakest spot on her neck, hands running down her spine, and up again. They were not touching skin to skin yet. Their clothes prevented it.

"Severus…"

"Mm?" he hummed, nibbling her collarbone.

"I love you, and I love the way you are touching me now."

Feeling giddy, he kissed her full on the mouth. A squeeze on her buttocks caused her to moan, breaking the kiss. Her neck caught his attention next. Quick kisses landed along it.

"But…"

He halted and locked their gazes. There was a 'but'? Fuck. She looked disappointed. She was going to demand that he verbalize his feelings at last. Even though he had been practicing as he had promised himself, he wasn't ready to take that step. The moment wouldn't feel right.

He swallowed hard and pressed, "But?"

To his relief (or to his discontentment), she replied, "It's Tuesday."

Tuesday.

Of course.

It was a patrolling night for Skyrah. Stifling groan, he withdrew his hands from her. She got on her feet, straightened her clothes and took her wand from the desk.

"We'll continue this later."

She sealed the promise with a kiss on the lines his scowl had brought to his forehead. Only when the door was banged closed did Severus whisper he loved her too.

She walked down the corridors. Amongst the choir of snores formed by the portraits, she almost missed three particular voices that did not belong to any painting.

Teenagers' voices.

With slow, quiet steps, she followed the source and turned around the corner. The light that came from her wand dazzled three students.

"Shit!" hissed Ginny.

Neville stood paralyzed, blue spray in hand. Luna was the only one who kept writing on the walls. Skyrah raised an eyebrow and turned her wand to the wall.

Dumbledore's Army, still recruiting.

It was full of graffiti with similar phrases. Past curfew, writing on the walls, swearing in front of the teacher… Usually, Skyrah would have deducted House points. A detention wouldn't have been out of place, either. Yet, she could only gape in awe. She had never thought she would ever admire the graffiti. Traditional paintings were more to her liking. She had to admit, though, that she was in front of a masterpiece, for she was left speechless.

"Luna," said Ginny, nudging her arm to keep her from adding more.

"Do you want to write in a different color now?" Luna wondered, showing her the pink spray.

"Stop it. The Carrows will already punish us for being out after curfew and painting the walls. Don't give them another reason to crucio you."

"It is sweet of you to care for me, Neville, but Professor Skyrah won't tell."

"Professors are obliged to."

"You are right, Ginevra," said Skyrah, now that she had recovered her voice. "I am going to kindly ask you to remove these… messages."

"Or else?" she asked.

"I will not be able to protect you. If there is no proof of rule-breaking, there is no punishment. I would still have to report you were in the corridors after curfew. Everybody who has been caught after curfew has spent detention with Hagrid. The Carrows are aware of this. If they knew the reason you are not in your dorms, though, they would punish you the way they saw fit."

Neville and Ginny exchanged preoccupied looks but did not move. Luna never acted like the rest though. A swish of her wand, and the last sentence she had written vanished. There was not even a trace of blue spray on the wall.

"Don't!" cried out Neville. "Dumbledore's Army is our only hope! We need to fight! The Carrows must see this!"

"They don't have to see these messages in particular, right, Professor?"

Neville and Ginny turned to look at Skyrah. To their surprise, there was an impish smile on her face. It was the first time they saw their teacher grin this term. The muffliato she cast added to their curiosity.

"My thoughts, exactly, Luna." Skyrah eyed Neville. "I've pondered your request."

"Did you change your mind? Are you joining us?"

"I am afraid I cannot be the teacher you want me to be, Neville. I will not lead Dumbledore's Army." He lowered his head, disillusioned again. That impish grin on her face did not falter, though, both Ginny and Luna noticed. They held their breaths. "Nonetheless, I might or might not tell you when a staff meeting takes place so that you can write on the walls without fear of being caught. If I find out the time the Headmaster is meeting with the Deputies, you will also be made aware. I'll make sure Mrs Norris isn't nearby."

Both girls smiled: Luna, dreamily; Ginny, in form of a smirk. Neville was so shocked he gaped.

"I have noticed that some students spent more time sleeping than studying with Professor Binns. A few private lessons would benefit them. Hence, every Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday from four thirty to six, I will offer individual or small group History tutoring lessons for those students who require it."

"What does this have to do with Dumbledore's Army?" asked Ginny.

"The Carrows do not need to know that some of those History lessons will not be about History but about Defense, do they? I will teach Defense to one of you. That person will lead and teach Dumbledore's Army."

"Who?" wondered Neville.

Skyrah grinned slyly. "Why you, Neville."

He put his hands in his pockets and stared down at his shoes. "Why me? Ginny would be a better leader."

"Ginevra is a good leader, yes, but you are perfect for the role. The Carrows will not believe that she needs tutoring lessons. You, on the other hand…"

He snorted, ears red. "Right. I have never been smart."

Right then, Skyrah saw Daniel in the boy. Like Neville, Daniel's self-esteem was not high when it came to academics. Skyrah put a hand on his shoulder. When she spoke, she procured her voice was as gentle as her touch.

"That is a downright lie. The Carrows underestimate you. If they caught you coming out of my office during tutoring hours, they would not question you. That is their weakness, their mistake, and we are going to use it to our advantage. Your discretion is indispensable, though. Nobody can know I am helping you."

"They won't," swore Ginny.

Luna nodded at Skyrah. Neville didn't answer her. He kept staring at his feet, thinking. At last, he raised his head and said, "But I am not Harry. I will never be as good as him."

"I think you will be a great teacher," said Luna, adjusting her wand behind her ear.

Neville's blush intensified.

"I agree with Luna. Do not underestimate yourself," said Skyrah. "You are more capable than the Carrows believe. I have faith in you. I wouldn't be doing this if I thought the risk was too high."

He gave her a weak smile.

"Does Professor Snape know about this?" wondered Ginny.

"None of your business," Skyrah said, lifting an eyebrow and letting go of Neville's shoulder.

The students gulped, remembering that Skyrah was kind yet stern when she needed to be, and that, apparently, she didn't like it when they pried into her life. She had a good reason to take that tone with them. She had devised the plan with her husband. It had meant countless arguments, some of which concluded in angry sex, until Skyrah convinced Severus that Neville was the perfect candidate. Telling the students Severus had been involved in the plan creation, though, was not a sensible move.

"Next Monday at five o'clock in my office."

Neville nodded solemnly. "I'll be there."

She gave him a proud smile and helped them clean the walls, erasing all the evidence. Eventually, Ginny and Luna took their leave. Neville stayed, staring at Skyrah.

"Thank you."

And he walked away, leaving her with a foolish smile on her face. She was starting to feel good with herself and her role as a teacher.


A blanket of snow covered Godric's Hollow. Most people were at home, sheltered from the cold, spending time with their loved ones. Christmas trees were seen through the windows, yellowish lights against the dark of the night, surrounded by children playing with their new toys. Their joy contrasted against the solemnity Harry and Hermione displayed in the graveyard. Christmas roses blossomed in front of them. Hermione's doing. Conjuration required a concentration Harry did not currently have. His misty eyes were fixed on James's and Lily's grave, reading to himself repeatedly, "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death."

"It means living beyond death. You can talk to them, Harry. They will listen to you," Hermione said softly, clutching his hand in hers.

"What if they don't want to?"

Hermione frowned. "Why would you think so?"

"They must be angry at me for…"

"For loving the Snapes?" she finished for him.

He lowered his gaze. "You overheard me using the two-way mirror, didn't you?"

"Yes." His cheeks and ears were not only crimson due to the cold. "Harry, you don't have to be ashamed of that. Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged. "I didn't want to upset you. You can't talk to your parents."

"Exactly. I don't want my best friend to go through that as well."

A small foggy air breath formed as Harry exhaled and wrapped an arm around her waist. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

"I love my parents. I truly do, but the Snapes…"

"The Snapes have been there for you when Lily and James couldn't. But that does not mean your parents are angry with you."

"How do you know?"

"They loved you so much they died for you. Why wouldn't they be happy to know you are happy?"

Memories from the past came flooding back: the birthday gifts the Snapes had given Harry, that special evening Severus told him about Lily, Skyrah telling him she loved him and Severus saying he cared for him, the Snapes taking care of him after Sirius's death and letting him cook with them, those proud smiles during Occlumency and Defense lessons Severus gave him, those motherly kisses Skyrah planted on his lightning scar. Yes, Severus and Skyrah made Harry happy. Merely recalling those moments brought a nostalgic smile to his face. How he wished the Snapes were there to hug him and love him and guide him, to celebrate Christmas like all the families he had seen walking down Godric's Hollow. He missed the Snapes like he missed Lily and James. He didn't realize he was crying softly, not even when his tears coursed down his cheeks and fell onto Hermoine's garnet woolly hat.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione."

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

And they walked away through the snow under the invisibility cloak. Soon they reached the cottage where James and Lily died seventeen years ago, or what was left of it, anyway. It was then they spotted a woman. She was old, shuffling her feet rather than walking. She stopped and faced them as if she could actually see right through the invisibility cloak. Hermione and Harry exchanged looks. The real purpose they had gone to Godric Hollow's was to talk to Bathilda Bagshot. Hermione was convinced Albus had entrusted the historian with the Sword. Could it be her? Had she been waiting for them? The woman certainly wasn't a muggle. The ruins of the cottage were not visible to muggles' eyes, yet she seemed to see everything that surrounded them.

"Are you Bathilda?" asked Harry.

She nodded and gestured for them to follow her. Harry and Hermione complied. Skyrah would love to meet her and talk historian to historian, thought Harry, but Skyrah wasn't there, and Harry had a feeling Bathilda was not a very talkative person, anyhow. The walk was quiet.

They ended up in a place that smelled of dust and old age, Bathilda's place, they guessed. The locket on his neck twisted and burned a bit, giving Harry the impression the horcrux felt the weapon that could destroy it was near. Little did he know, he would leave the place barely conscious, with a broken wand and empty hands.


At the crack of dawn, Harry took the two-way mirror, no longer hiding it to Hermione. She did not participate in the conversation. Rather, she let Harry talk to his closest parental figures and listened while he explained to them that Bathilda had turned out to be Nagini and that now they knew Gryffindor's Sword was the key to destroy the horcruxes.

"Are you injured?"

Even though Hermione wasn't looking at the mirror, she knew Severus was deeply worried by his tone of voice.

"I'm fine."

"That is not what I asked."

"I am not injured," said Harry, barely looking at Severus.

The truth was the snake bite on his forearm hurt, so did the burn on his chest caused by the locket.

"Liar," hissed Severus. "How serious is it?"

"It'll heal. That's all you need to know."

"All we need to know?" Severus snorted. "Did you honestly believe that answer would satisfy us?"

"That's all you're going to get."

"Harry…"

"I am fine."

"Sweetheart, you must be more careful. If something bad happened to y–"

"Nothing bad happened to me."

"But it could have. It could have gone very wrong. Don't you see?"

"Who cares? It didn't go wrong." Not that wrong, anyway, he thought.

"Don't talk back to my wife."

Hermione pictured Severus's scowl as he growled that.

"Sorry," said Harry, barely looking at the mirror. "I just don't want to worry you."

Feeling the conversation was becoming too personal, Hermione went to the other side of the tent, far enough she could not hear them. She wouldn't have heard them even if she had stayed, for they all fell silent. Corbin was the one to interrupt the quietness, getting Harry's attention by trying to pronounce his name. Harry smiled when Corbin managed to, although the letter R had been replaced with an L yet again.

"Do me a favor, Kiddo, don't get into trouble and don't spread your blocks across the floor. I already drive your parents crazy."

"Me good son. Blocks fun."

Corbin looked so indignant Harry let out a chuckle.

"I don't doubt it," said Harry.

Severus did not understand a thing, unlike Skyrah, who was grinning fondly. She didn't feel so guilty for having passed her Parselmouth genes to her son, not if it served to make Harry happy.

The conversation did not last much longer. The Snapes had to get ready for the workday. Not even the kiss Corbin blew Harry erased the helplessness on the boy's face. The image haunted Severus and Skyrah the rest of the day.


A few days later, two crow-shaped patroni flapped their wings in front of Harry. He felt strangely warm despite the icy wind, much closer to the Snapes that he could ever feel using the two-way mirror. With a smile, he followed his protectors, leaving a sleeping Hermione in the tent. The silvery figures shone against the darkness of the night sky and guided him through the trees. His footsteps were slower than he would have liked; his feet sunk in the snow, and the locket clasped on his neck turned his patience thin, yet he did not surrender. He continued, leaving a trace of footprints until he reached a frozen pool.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, watching the crows.

It was then he noticed the crows were soaring in circles a few meters from him. He walked and stopped beneath them. The crows landed next to him and melted away, leaving Harry confused and cold. He couldn't see anything without their shimmering forms.

"Lumos!"

He scanned the area, searching for two black-haired heads.

"Severus? Skyrah?" echoed his voice.

A few branches moved behind him. He turned around, expecting to find the Snapes there. Nobody. It had been the wind. He called them again, louder, this time. The result was the same.

He grunted and looked down in defeat. It was then he noticed a glimmer coming from under the ice. He kneeled to take a better look at it. The Sword. The Sword was under the layer of ice. He gave out a laugh. His mirth vanished when a simple summoning spell did not work. It wasn't because he had used Hermione's wand. Now he remembered. An act of bravery. He needed to be brave to get the Sword.

"Diffindo!"

And the ice cracked, creating a small hole.

He stripped, leaving only his underwear and the locket on, placed the clothes and Hermione's wand on one side and jumped in.

The cold water penetrated his bones. His whole body shook violently, but he dove in deeper, and deeper and deeper until he clutched the hilt of the Sword. He looked up, desperate to reach the surface, when something strangled him.

Slytherin's locket.

He screamed under water, trying to remove it with both hands. The Sword sank to the bottom once again. He'd go back for it… If he got out of it alive. The more the seconds passed, the more he feared he'd die then and there. Grey spots disrupted his vision, but he cared not about his sight. Only his breathing mattered.

A blurry figure descended, or so he thought. He lifted one arm towards them, the other arm still trying to keep the locket from choking him to death. Although the figure did not catch him, a force pulled him out.

He inhaled soundly and collided against something dry that gave off a faint smell of potions. He opened his eyes. If he had been able to speak, he would have cursed. He only saw darkness. He felt like he was about to lose consciousness. His racking coughs got him shutting his eyes while he stroked his sore throat. His hands touched bare skin rather than the chain of the locket, though, through his grogginess, he barely noticed it, just like how his skin no longer being damp but covered in dry clothes again escaped his attention.

"Foolish boy," he heard a familiar deep voice groan.

Then, a splash, a deep breath being taken.

But that was impossible. Nobody had answered when he called for the Snapes. He had seen no hidden figures.

A hot stream of air hit him, and for a while, he heard nothing. Not even his coughs. His knees gave out, and he dropped to the snowy ground.

"Are you mental?"

Was that Ron?

"Idiot. Bloody idiot. As if diving in icy waters wasn't reckless enough," Severus's voice followed. "You had to dive in with a bloody horcrux on your neck, you foolish boy."

Harry took big breaths. I am definitely having hallucinations, he thought. Hermione. I need to find Hermione. The problem was his knees kept trembling. They wouldn't support his weight. He lay on the snow, eyes closed, hugging himself in a fetal position to keep warm. Then he heard a voice that belonged to a female, not Hermione's, but unmistakably familiar, warmer than the blanket she had brought with herself or the warming charm she must have been using on him.

"I'm here. We're here, sweetheart."

"Mum?"

Skyrah gasped and kneeled, hugging him with one arm and kissing his lightning scar. Harry did not see Corbin in her other arm, keeping his eyes on her instead of on Ron and Severus.

"Shh… Ronald retrieved the Sword. I opened the locket. Ron is taking care of it now. Severus is with him. You're safe. They will make it. We'll have one less horcrux," she crooned, patting his back in circles, and let out a sound that resembled a sob. "Bloody hell, Harry! You were supposed to get the Sword and destroy Slytherin's Locket! You were not supposed to drown!"

His fingers dug deeper into her coat. He soaked her scarf with his tears. He felt a teardrop falling on his forehead – it had to be hers. Even though he wasn't trembling anymore, he kept holding onto her, telling himself over and over again that she was not an illusion. He dared open his eyes and looked above her shoulder. The pool where he had almost drowned was not far from them. With fear still in his bones, he tightened his grip on her and shut his eyes. Now that Harry was fully aware, he was able to decipher exactly what had happened. The figure that he had seen underwater had to be Ron. The darkness he had seen after that force heaved him had to be the black shade of Severus's robes. He must have pulled him out somehow. With a summoning spell, perhaps?

"Don't listen! Harry'd never do that! She sees her as his sister!" Harry heard Severus bark from behind him. "Do it! Now, Weasley! Stab the locket!"

A plunging sound.

A deafening scream.

Skyrah squeezed Harry and Corbin tighter.

"It's gone," she whispered when the worst had passed. Her grip did not slacken, though. "Are you still cold?"

Harry was cold, yes, as cold as he had been before diving in. The normal kind. His teeth weren't chattering. His throat was a bit sore, but he wouldn't complain about that. He was about to shake his head and tell her he was okay when a high-pitched voice called his name…

Or made an attempt.

Harry let go of Skyrah and laughed, opening his arms for Corbin to walk towards him. Unlike the last time at Spinner's End, the toddler kept his balance and reached Harry without falling down. Although the distance was shorter, Harry's pride was fierce. Corbin sat on his lap and blew him a kiss, like he had been doing lately during their conversations through the two-way mirror.

"You can give him a real kiss now. Like this," said Skyrah, kissing Harry's temple.

Despite her lips being colder than usual, Harry leaned into her. Merlin. He had missed Skyrah's affection.

"Kiss? Hug?" asked Corbin, tilting his head.

"Yes, sweetheart. Show Harry how you kiss and hug."

Corbin removed himself from his lap and stood next to Harry. From that position, he was able to kiss Harry's cheek and encircle his neck with his little arms. Harry teared up, not caring one bit that his cheek was now full of saliva. He had accepted he wouldn't be able to hold Corbin ever again, let alone receive a hug and kiss from him. That was what he called a belated Christmas gift, or a belated Christmas miracle, even. He took Corbin in his arms and hugged him properly, kissing his forehead.

"You've grown up so much, Kiddo."

"Indeed, even if he doesn't eat broccoli," said a baritone voice. "I mask it in between other vegetables or food he likes, but he is as sharp-witted as his mother. I never fool him."

Harry laughed, making Corbin giggle too. As the sound faded into the woods, Harry gazed at Severus and smiled. Grasping they needed a moment alone, Skyrah helped Harry steady himself onto his feet and took Corbin. Seconds later, Harry was enfolding Severus in a hug.

"I've missed you."

Severus didn't say anything, but he did put his arms around him and give him a tight squeeze before breaking the embrace.

"We must leave."

Harry's face fell. "So soon?"

"We already took a risk coming here. My job was to deliver the Sword to you. Skyrah… She was adamant to see you, she wanted Corbin to see you, and I…"And he couldn't say no to her, thought Harry, but Severus said, "I wanted to see you, too."

Harry's heart swelled. "I'm glad you came. I sometimes feel lonely."

"And whose fault is that?" snarled Severus. "You should have told us. We would have taken care of the horcruxes together."

Harry looked at Skyrah, searching for support, but the resentful look in her eyes told him he wouldn't get it.

"I thought you understood me."

"We understand your decision, but don't ask us to be pleased with it. We aren't," said Skyrah. "We feel… powerless."

And having no power was one of the most difficult situations Slytherins could face.

"I am doing the right thing," said Harry, hoping that would be solace enough.

It wasn't. He knew by the hard lines on the Snapes' faces.

"The right thing? What, pray tell, is the right thing for you, Harry? Leaving a letter to inform us you'll be gone? Worrying Skyrah? Spending your last days in the woods instead of in a place you can call home? Does that feel right?" Severus scoffed, "Gryffindors. When will you learn? The right thing isn't worth it when your life is at stake."

"The right thing isn't always the easiest one!"

"You could have died tonight!" Severus roared, grabbing him by the shoulders. More quietly, he repeated, "You could have died."

Harry was left breathless. He was beginning to understand that all this scolding was because Severus was afraid. He cares.

"I'm sorry. I'll be more careful from now on."

Severus put a hand on his cheek. Harry wished it wasn't so cold. He couldn't feel his skin under those black-leather gloves Severus wore. "No… No, you won't. It's the way you are. You keep running into trouble."

Someone tugged on his cloak. Severus looked down his nose.

"Sleep?" wondered Corbin, still clutching his father's cloak in his little glove-covered hand.

Corbin's gloves were not made of leather but of red wool. Certainly not Severus's taste. Too Gryffindor. Minerva had chosen them for Corbin on purpose. For some unknown reason, Corbin had immediately liked them. Severus didn't change the red wool into green in fear Corbin would bawl, already too attached to his gloves. At least they aren't patterned with cats or lions, thought Severus.

"We'll go home now, Son," he murmured, taking the toddler in his arms.

Corbin laid his head on the crook of his shoulder, eyelids half-lowered already.

"Go back to the tent, Harry. Be safe. You too, Ronald," said Skyrah. "I'm glad to see you back."

Ron, who had been gaping all this time, too shocked to make a sound, closed his mouth. Granted, he had witnessed Severus calling Harry by his first name and caring for his wife and his, at the time, unborn child before, but Severus had been awkward about it. Now he was at ease. It was a sight to behold, the kind very few of his classmates (if anyone) would believe. Ron looked from Severus and Corbin to Skyrah.

"I… I'm glad to be back too, Professor Sk–" He caught himself before he made the mistake to ignore Severus. "Er, Professors," he stammered, wrapping himself more securely in the blanket the Snapes had given him after emerging from the freezing pool.

"I better not find out you abandon the people you call your friends again, Mister Weasley."

Ron gulped and lowered his head, staring at boots, half-covered in snow. "You won't, sir."

"All that matters is that you are back and that you destroyed the Slytherin Locket," said Skyrah. "Your family will be proud to know."

"You'll tell them?" he wondered, raising his head to meet her eyes.

"Of course."

Ron smiled smugly, feeling important for once, not only another Weasley, or that ginger boy who was friends with the Boy Who Lived.

"Before we leave…" Skyrah put her hand in her pocket. She took something minuscule out of it. Harry squinted. "It's food. Severus made it. We figured you would like it. You only need to engorgio it."

Harry smiled and nodded eagerly, taking it from her and thanking Severus. His food was one of the things Harry missed the most. The Snapes gave Harry one last glance and disapparated. By the time Harry and Ron reached the tent, Harry could still feel the lingering looks the Snapes had given him on his skin.

Meanwhile, Severus was tucking Corbin into bed and kissing his forehead. Skyrah kissed Corbin goodnight and took Severus's hand. She guided him to their bedroom. A few moments later, they were intertwined in the bed. Severus was almost asleep when she whispered something.

"Mm?"

"Harry. He called me Mum. He must have referred to Lily."

Severus arched an eyebrow. "You have drawn this conclusion because…"

"He looked quite confused when you pulled him out of the water."

Severus shook his head. "He didn't mean Lily. He almost referred to you and Corbin as his family at the Dursleys'."

"Did he?" she asked, voice raspy with emotion.

He hummed. "The word might have slipped, but he meant it. He feels loved by you. You're so…" Easy to love, he added to himself. Outwardly, he said, "Nurturing. You never hesitate to hug him, kiss his forehead or support him. You're giving him everything Lily can't. How can he not love you back?"

Skyrah had a feeling he wasn't talking only about Harry but about someone else. He wasn't willing to confess whom, even though Skyrah had an idea. Teary-eyed, she kissed his cheek and snuggled closer to him, drawing patterns on his chest absentmindedly. She would have whispered she loved Severus if she wasn't so worried about Harry.

"I sometimes think he deserves someone better than me. He is an orphan because Father murdered his parents. The only one to blame is my father, I know that, but a part of me feels… at fault."

"I know the feeling. If I hadn't told the Dark Lord about the prophecy–"

A smacking kiss silenced him.

"Stop blaming yourself."

"I could say the same to you." She lowered her gaze. More softly, he added, "The Dark Lord killed his family. You gave him one."

"You gave him one, too. Harry adores you."

He wouldn't have needed a family if I hadn't contributed to the death of Lily and Potter, Severus thought, staring up at the ceiling rather than at her. She draped her arm over his chest and gave him a squeeze.

"We will learn to let go of our guilt, together."

Severus looked back at her and caressed her cheek, gazes locked. His touch was so delicate she became breathless. The corners of his mouth twitched as he echoed, "Together."

Skyrah tangled their feet.

"Harry will be okay with Ronald and Hermione, right?"

"Yes."

'For the time being' were the words left unsaid, for both were painfully aware Voldemort would kill Harry. It was an inescapable fate.

"I was so afraid when he didn't come up from the pool..."

"So was I."

She slithered her hand towards his, holding it in hers, never wanting to let go as if her sanity depended on it.

"How are we supposed to accept his death?"

Severus didn't have an answer for that. He toyed with her tresses instead, hoping sleep overcame them soon. It did, only recurring nightmares about Harry drowning to death and the upcoming war kept the two of them up all night.

...

A/N: So sorry for the delay. I have updated this story as soon as I could, really. I hope the length and quality of this chapter makes up for the wait!