Chapter 50
The Snapes woke up every morning, fearing Harry would get caught at last. Most nights, they fell asleep without a clue as to Harry's whereabouts and well-being. Having the two-way mirror with them was the only thing that calmed them down, if only a bit. It had become their most precious artifact, an extension of their bodies. While at work, Severus placed it on his office desk. After lessons, he took it back to their chambers, peeking at it every now and then in hopes of seeing a pair of sparkling emerald eyes. Now that they were on Spinner's End during Easter break, they kept moving it from one room to another.
Right then, it was on a shelf from their library, under Dione and Skyrah's watch. Dione's determination rivalled a Slytherin's when it came to acquiring healer skills and knowledge. Thus, she had stayed indoors despite the rarely warm weather, reading a book on advanced healing spells and potions while Severus and Corbin spent some father-son quality time in the garden, experimenting with the potions kit.
Skyrah had insisted on staying with her sister. Although she was no medi-witch, she could help Dione understand the basic theory in case she had any questions. Actually, Severus had taught her about a few healing potions, and she had heard him read some of them to their son so many times Skyrah knew the properties of the ingredients and the brewing steps – the most practical ones, not the ones from the books – by heart. She also intended on quizzing Dione after the reading session, since the more Dione learned, the more help Poppy would receive.
Skyrah sat around the ebony table, opposite Dione. On one side, she sat a pile of history books. In front of her, there was an ink bottle, a quill and a parchment. She started leafing through books, noting down the pages that contained illustrations about the goblin rebellions to show them to their students, scribbling ideas on how to teach them about those rebellions.
A gleam suddenly dazzled Dione. She screwed her eyes and waved her wand. The blind lowered, and with it, the luminosity in the room. Skyrah wrinkled her nose and swished her wand. The blind was completely pulled up again. Dione rolled it down. Her sister rolled it up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up.
"Skyrah!" groaned Dione, slamming the book on the table.
"What?"
"You know what!"
Skyrah shrugged. "I can't read if there isn't enough light."
"I can't read if there's too much light."
"There isn't too much l–"
A gleam hit Dione's face again. Covering her eyes to keep from going blind, she asked, "You were saying?"
But Skyrah was grinning, and a word fell from her mouth, "Harry."
Of course. Those beams reflect off the two-way mirror rather than the sun, Dione realized, feeling stupid. She gestured for Skyrah to go find Severus and Corbin while she summoned the mirror. Most likely, Harry was contacting them to keep them updated on the horcrux hunt, since he was set to find Hufflepuff's Cup in Bellatrix's Gringotts vault last time they talked. Skyrah was about to walk out of the library when Dione muttered one name, low but clear.
"Draco."
Gasping, Skyrah rushed back and positioned herself beside her sister, snatching the mirror from her. She caught a ghost of a smile on Draco's face that lasted until he recognized his teacher. He stared back at her with dilated pupils and an 'O'-shaped mouth.
"You're helping Potter," he said, a mere whisper.
What was the point in denying it? He wouldn't believe her lies; even less if he glanced at Dione. She was too transparent.
"What's happened to him?" Skyrah asked, straight to the point.
"He was home. Potter and his friends. There was a fight. He escaped. I don't know where he went. He's got my wand."
Skyrah shut her eyes. Inhaling and exhaling slowly was the only thing that kept her from screaming bloody hell.
"You can't tell anybody about the mirror," she said in her stern-teacher voice, eyes flying open. "Did you hear me?"
His face creased in pain and he looked away. Dione had seen that expression too many times. He was struggling with himself, with what his family and the Dark Lord would ask him to do, and what Skyrah was asking of him.
"Please."
Dione's plea was all it took for Draco to look back at the mirror. This time, he paid no attention to Skyrah. He was focused on the girl, memorizing every freckle on her face. His gaze was so intense she blushed.
Suddenly, a pucker appeared between his eyebrows, and he pointed a wand Skyrah recognized as Narcissa's to the mirror.
"Evanesco," he murmured.
And the mirror reflected the identical stunned expressions of the sisters. Skyrah let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding.
"He won't tell," Dione said.
Skyrah gave her a lopsided smile. Ever since she found out about Dione's crush on Draco, she had been worried about Dione's safety and possible heartbreak. Funny how Draco's feelings for Dione would actually protect not only her sister but also Harry and the whole Snape family. After all, Draco had vanished the mirror because Dione had begged him, not because his History teacher had asked him. And Skyrah was fine with that.
"Oh, I know he won't. He's even more smitten with you than you are with him."
"Skyrah!" she exclaimed, cheeks burning up.
Skyrah let out a brief laugh. It sounded sad. Dione knew the reason. Harry would only have Ron and Hermione's support from then on. Skyrah might not have a chance to tell him she loved him one last time, before his looming death. There was a high chance Harry wouldn't see Corbin and Severus again. A little ribbing about her crush on Draco was entertaining but not enough to forget about that.
Dione enveloped Skyrah in her arms so abruptly the mirror slipped through her fingers and hit the floor.
"The daisy roots go next," read Severus.
They were not real daisy roots but mere copies, like all the ingredients that came with the potions kit Skyrah given Severus. They couldn't create any real potion, but Corbin did not need to know that. He didn't question anything when he tasted the fake potions he 'brewed' with his dad. A supposed calming draught tasted of white chocolate and did not have any calming properties, but who cared? Not Corbin. He showed his creation with a half-smirk, half smug smile, pushing his chest out, just like his father whenever he completed a challenging potion.
"Daisy roots," repeated Severus, pointing at the picture from the instructions sheet Corbin was holding.
They were beside the graphorn horn replica. Corbin picked the roots and poured them into the mixture. He took the stirring stick with both hands and tilted his head as if asking whether it was time to stir already. His favorite part, obviously. Severus was about to reply when a shattering sound reached the garden. It came from inside the house.
Alarmed, Severus picked his son up. The brusque movement caused Corbin to drop the stirring stick onto the grass.
"Potions! Play!" complained Corbin.
Severus ignored his protests along the way. He didn't even notice his son was pulling at his hair and jerking his legs. His only care was reaching the library.
At last, Severus flung the door open, breathing harshly. Skyrah had her face buried in her sister's curls, palms set on her back. She wasn't crying; her shoulders shook not. Not to mention, the library was as quiet as Eileen dreamed Hogwarts's would be. That did little to alleviate his anxiety.
Corbin whined and turned his head towards Severus's neck. It was then Severus noticed Corbin was covering his eyes from a beam. He followed it with his gaze. The sunlight that came through the window hit a mosaic of shards on the floor, close to the sisters' feet. The light hitting Corbin was only one of the many gleams which were rebounding in all directions. There weren't any mirrors in the library. Those broken crystals could only come from one object. Severus swallowed hard.
"He could be injured," Skyrah said, unaware Severus and Corbin where there.
"Draco would have mentioned it."
"He must be scared. I am scared. Why did he have to lose the mirror?"
Lose the mirror?! Irresponsible brat, Severus thought. Though he scowled in anger, a part of him felt desperate. He held Corbin tighter, unwittingly seeking comfort and wanting to protect him like he couldn't protect Harry at the same time. A wandless evanesco and the shards disappeared. His velvety voice startled the sisters. Skyrah's gaze went from the now clean floor to a pair of black worried eyes. A simple glance was enough to know they were thinking the very same thing. From now on, the Snapes would wake up fearing Harry would get caught and fall asleep without a clue as to his whereabouts and well-being, as they had done until now, the only difference being they would have no comfort. It had vanished along with the broken pieces of the mirror.
The Easter holidays were over. Dumbledore's Army's success did not prevent Hogwarts from growing murkier with the passage of time. The Carrows were to blame. Dione wasn't the only one who shivered with a simple glare from them. Despite the Snapes' attempts at keeping the harm at a minimum, Amycus and Alecto terrorized the students. All the teachers blamed the headmaster. The only logical explanation they had for Severus to allow Death Eaters in the school was that he was a loyal Death Eater himself. After all, the Ministry controlled the school, and they all knew who maneuvered the Ministry. Severus ignored the rumors, although he couldn't call them rumors, could he? Not when the essence of what was whispered behind his back was true.
Poppy was one of the very few people who still smiled at him, although he had caught her looking at him in pity. He couldn't stand it. He would rather be looked at in fear, like most of the students – if not all bar Dione – did. A few ghosts and professors who used to be civil with him were just as afraid. Some were brave enough to look daggers at him. He could take hate from many people – he had done so all his life and was used to the feeling – but not when it came from Minerva. Perhaps 'hate' wasn't the word. She avoided him, acted coldly.
It still hurt him.
It was at moments like this, when Minerva glowered at him, that he despised himself. But then Skyrah kissed his pain away and told him she loved him, and the thought of his persona didn't sicken him. Why would it? Skyrah wouldn't love him if he were as contemptible as he had convinced himself for years, if he was a Death Eater.
Every day, he thanked Merlin his wife and son brightened his days. He was thankful his mother trusted him blindly as well. She, the vulture of the library who was constantly making judgements, supported him and asked no questions. A pair of emerald eyes crossed his mind every now and then, reminding him that his family was incomplete. He wouldn't admit it, but he missed Harry, even more ever since he lost the two-way mirror. Skyrah missed the boy terribly, too. Severus would often catch her leafing through the album of photographs Harry gave her, lingering on those featuring the boy.
Skyrah was doing just that when somebody knocked. A wiggle of her wand and the album was put back on a shelf in her dormitory. She walked towards the hall, Corbin following close behind her, and opened the door.
"Auntie!" Corbin welcomed Minerva, giving her that innocent smile that could melt the iciest hearts.
"Please come in. I'll brew some tea," said Skyrah, shutting the door after her.
Minerva nodded and followed Corbin to the living room. A few wooden blocks were displayed on the floor. Tugging on her skirt, he exclaimed, "Blocks!"
Minerva lifted an eyebrow. "You want me to help you build the tower?"
He sat cross-legged in front of the half-made tower near the couch as a response.
A while later, Corbin was struggling to pile up the last wooden block of the tower he was building. He grunted and looked at Minerva pleadingly. Taking the hint, she used the levitation spell to add the last piece. Corbin bounced and clapped so close to the tower he hit it without meaning to. Minerva watched it collapse in slow motion. For once, she felt real fear not even a lioness like her was willing to overcome. Upset teenagers were easy to handle. Upset one-year-olds, though? They were absolutely terrifying. She wanted to call Skyrah and let her comfort Corbin. But then again, that would be embarrassing. What would she tell her? That she, Head of the Gryffindor House, couldn't take care of a toddler for five minutes without making him cry? As if on cue, Skyrah came into the living room, carrying the teas with her. Minerva was about to apologize when Corbin burst out laughing, causing her to furrow her brow.
Smiling knowingly, Skyrah said, "He likes knocking down the towers way more than building them."
She had expected Minerva to grin or nod. Far from it, an anguished expression covered her face. With a frown, Skyrah gestured for her to get comfortable on the couch and handed her a cup of tea. Minerva's bony fingers clutched so strongly on the handle her knuckles turned white.
"Sweetheart, why don't you build another tower while Aunt Minerva and I drink tea?"
Corbin shook his head. "Dlaw!"
No matter how much he adored playing blocks, his answer did not surprise Skyrah. Corbin had been playing blocks before Minerva came over, and she had learnt just how fast toddlers grew bored of the same activity after doing it for a while. Skyrah sat next to Minerva and swished her wand. Pieces of parchment and crayons of different colors came floating from Corbin's bedroom and dropped to the coffee table, not far from him. Corbin beamed.
"Something is bothering you. What is it?" asked Skyrah, sitting next to Minerva.
Minerva glanced at Corbin. Seeing he was absorbed in the drawing already, happily babbling to himself, she gathered up the Gryffindor courage and met Skyrah's eyes.
"Does your husband treat you well?"
Skyrah squinted, offended. What was Minerva implying?
"Like a queen," she said, voice tight.
"What about my nephew? Does he treat Corbin well?"
"Many fathers have a lot to learn from Severus and the way he treats Corbin." Like mine, she added to herself. Minerva's hold on her cup of tea was not that tight. That only increased Skyrah's curiosity. "Why did you ask?"
"He has changed. I needed to make sure he treated you as you deserve."
Skyrah sipped her tea causally. "Changed in what sense?"
"Oh, don't play dumb with me, young lady. Severus has never been a nice person, but I never thought he had it in him to turn Hogwarts into an inferno for the students."
Skyrah's expression darkened; her voice lowered several notes. "He is doing what he thinks is for the best."
"By allowing Death Eaters to teach? An excellent choice," Minerva said, irony dripping from her voice.
"You-Know-Who took over the Ministry. The Ministry hired the Carrows. My husband didn't."
"The Ministry hired Severus as a Headmaster too. I wonder, was it a coincidence? I think not. I believed Albus when he said Severus was not a Death Eater. It hurts me to doubt both of them, but with all the evidence…"
At the insinuation, Skyrah had a sudden urge to kick Minerva – colleague or not – out of her chambers. The problem was Minerva was on the right track, for Severus was the headmaster under Lord Voldemort's command. Skyrah realized she wasn't angry for the insinuation. She was angry because Minerva was judging Severus, making assumptions. Too many people did that. Even more these days. It was unfair. Cruel. They didn't know the whole story. Her body trembled in impotence, causing a few drops of tea to leak and fall onto the hand resting on her lap. They burnt her skin, but they didn't hurt her, not as much as the comparison Minerva made between the Carrows and Severus.
"It offends me that you believe my husband is a bad man. He considers you his friend."
"It hurts me that my students are being tortured by those monsters," Minerva hissed, keeping the volume low so as not to disturb Corbin. "It hurts me that someone I considered my friend is doing nothing to stop it!"
"He is doing everything he can! He is sending as many students as possible on detention with Hagrid. Can't you see? We are all victims here, victims of my–" she caught herself before the word father slipped. "Of You-Know-Who. You can't even begin to imagine how hard the situation is for Severus."
They fell silent. Corbin's endless doodling was the only sound in the room.
"I didn't know he sent them to Hagrid…" whispered Minerva with her head down.
Skyrah's expression softened. Of course Minerva wouldn't know. Severus was way too subtle, never looked for praise. He played his role too well.
"He can't send all the students to Hagrid, but he tries. I'm not asking you to forgive him for being unable to protect all the students. I'm asking you to have faith in him. He hasn't changed. He is the same man who teased you about House Pride and Quidditch. He doesn't say it, but he misses you. It breaks my heart to know that not even his supposed friend trusts him."
"Mama 'pset?"
Corbin was by her feet, holding a roll of parchment close to his chest and gazing up at her with big eyes. Her voice had cracked by the end of her speech – enough to capture his attention, apparently. Moved, Skyrah picked him up and settled him on her lap.
"I'm fine, Corbin," she said, kissing his cheek.
She was able to make out half of his drawing from that position. At first glance, it was an undecipherable illustration, full of spiraling colors that made little sense but which she adored just because Corbin was the author. A small grin tugged at her lips. Trust Corbin to literally bring color to life when it looked gloomy.
"Oh! You're an artist, sweetheart! Show the drawing to Aunt Minerva!"
He complied. Minerva took a closer look at its main figure. It resembled a furry ball with whiskers and a tail. Granted, she usually played with him in her animagus form, but she hadn't expected him to go as far as drawing her as a...
"Cat!" he exclaimed, pointing at it.
"It is beautiful, Corbin," murmured Minerva, more touched than she was willing to acknowledge.
The toddler grinned and moved the drawing close to her hands. Minerva froze, unsure of what to do.
Suppressing a chuckle, Skyrah joshed, "Not accepting gifts is considered impolite."
"A gift?"
"Does that surprise you? You are his Aunt, and he drew you."
Skyrah spotted tears forming in Minerva's eyes. It was an unusual sight, so unusual Minerva composed herself so quickly Skyrah wondered if she had imagined it.
"Thank you," Minerva said, taking the drawing. Still unable to look Skyrah in the eye, she muttered, "I'm sorry I accused Severus of–"
"It's okay."
"No, it's not. I was being unjust. You deserve an apology."
Skyrah's fingers twisted around her necklace, playing with her pendant of the crows and black pearl absentmindedly. She didn't wish to be rude and tell her she didn't fancy her apologies. Severus needed them, not Skyrah. In the end, she gave Minerva a curt nod.
Corbin reached for his aunt and squealed, "Cat!"
Thinking he just wanted to be held by her, Minerva left the drawing on the arm of the couch and sat him on her lap. Wrong assumption.
"Cat!" cried out Corbin, running his fingers through her cheekbones, expecting to touch her whiskers anytime.
Well, now she knew what he wanted. Either, Minerva was not as stern as her students reckoned, or Corbin had inherited his mother's persuasive skills, for next thing Skyrah knew, he was chasing Minerva in her animagus form across the living room. Luckily, Skyrah was fast enough to pile all the wooden blocks that were still spread on the floor and avoid any injuries with a simple spell.
Severus arrived just in time to hear his family's laughter. The closer he got to the living room, the louder the chuckles became. He was drawn to them, to Corbin and Skyrah's happiness, for their happiness was his happiness. A year ago, his scowl would have disappeared completely at the mere sound. Now the scowl was not so prominent, but still visible. Stress did that to him.
By the time Severus entered the living room, Corbin had already reached Minerva (or rather, Minerva slowed down on purpose). The toddler was cuddling the cat, caressing her hair. Although Minerva wouldn't admit it, she was purring in delight. Severus sucked in air, not for the sight itself – he was used to seeing Corbin interact with Minerva in her animagus form – but for the fact she had come to their chambers after shunning him all year. She must have wanted to visit Corbin while I wasn't lurking around, he thought, uncomfortable. She had been doing that since late September. He would have left and waited until Minerva returned to her own quarters to join his family – if only to avoid the awkwardness – but Skyrah had already locked eyes with him and was now patting the seat on the couch next to hers. There was no escape.
He was walking towards her when the cat extracted herself from Corbin's embrace and took vacillating steps towards Severus. She gazed up at him for a while and finally rubbed her head against his leg. His scowl disappeared gradually, completely, leaving a dumbstruck expression on his face. That rare sign of affection was her way of apologizing. He was tempted to sit and pet her, but he wasn't quite sure how Minerva would take it. She had come to him in a cat form and snuggled under his feet or on his lap to offer him comfort on the first Halloween nights without Lily. They always pretended it and been a random cat, not her. It was a practical way to preserve their dignity. He was still contemplating petting her when she changed into her human form. She squeezed Severus's shoulder and summoned the drawing. Normally, she would have said goodbye to Corbin, but he was entertained with another drawing, and she didn't trust her voice to sound steady, anyway, so she gave the Snapes a final nod and left.
Severus sank into the couch, barely digesting what had just happened. Skyrah snuggled into him, sighing contently when his slender fingers grazed down the side of her arm. When he reached her hand, she hissed and removed it. He took her wrist and examined her hand, lips pursed.
"How did you get these?" he inquired as his thumb traced the outer side of a blister.
"I spilled some tea."
He summoned a lotion against burns made by him and rubbed it on her irritated skin. With a flick of his wand, the lotion returned to the shelf. He kept massaging the area, soothing it even though there was no mark on her skin by then.
He allowed himself to smile lopsidedly and rib, "Granted, I was aware of your lamentable cooking skills, but I didn't know you were that bad in the kitchen. A British woman, a witch, at that, who is incapable of brewing tea without burning herself. If I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't believe it."
"For your information, I can brew tea without any incidences," Skyrah replied, feigning offense. "I spilled the tea because I was trying to control my emotions when Minerva accused you of being…"
"A Death Eater?"
The self-loathing was evident in his faint voice, all trace of joke extinct. That, added to the way he lowered his head like a scolded child, made her feel angry. Angry with him for carrying that self-loath on his shoulders even though he was redeeming himself. Angry with herself, for not making him realize just that and failing in bringing him joy. She grabbed his wrist, stopping the massage he was giving her hand and forcing him to meet eyes with her.
"You are not a Death Eater."
He shook his head and screwed his eyes in pain. "Maybe not now, but there was a time I was no better than Alecto and Amycus. I basked in inflicting pain in others. I wanted the rest of the world to feel as battered as I did."
"You changed, Severus. Now you fight against the Carrows, against the person you used to be. You have become a good man. I wouldn't be so whipped otherwise."
The corners of his mouth twitched involuntarily at the last sentence, and just like that, she didn't feel so angry. She had succeed in bringing him joy, after all.
"Whipped?"
"More than whipped," she said with a lively grin. She intertwined their fingers and grew serious. "I wouldn't be so in love with you if you hadn't fought your darkness like I fought – keep fighting – mine. You understand me. And I understand you."
And that is one of the many reasons I love you, he realized, eyes fixed on her lap, where their holding hands rested. He didn't tell her, though. Instead, he enjoyed the way her hair tickled his skin when she rested her head against the crook of his neck. Another reason he loved her was that they could stay silent, just cuddling like they were doing now, and still be content. Well, the room wasn't entirely quiet.
"Gleen!" Corbin cried, taking out a green crayon.
"Blue!" went next, although he had in fact selected a black crayon.
His parents would have corrected him if they hadn't been so deep in thought. By the time Severus spoke again, Corbin had mentioned three more colors.
"Minerva hasn't looked at me… disgusted. What did you tell her to change her attitude?"
"That you aren't a bad man."
"Does she consider me her friend or was she only being civil for Corbin's sake?"
His voice was unsteady, uncharacteristically weak. Frowning, Skyrah unburied her head from the crook of his neck and met his eyes. He wasn't staring back at her but at nothing in particular. She needn't legilimens him to know what he was mulling over. He had lost a dear friend once because she thought he was or would become a Death Eater. Losing another one for the same reason was something he would rather not experience ever again.
"Severus," she said, putting her hand on his cheek. "Minerva is as fond of you as you are of her."
He looked at her with an unfathomable expression on his face, and then, the corner of his mouth moved up, and the lines on his face became less visible. He jerked his head and dropped a kiss on her palm, lingering, making her feel like she was his most precious person in the world. Then, he grabbed her wrist gently and placed it on her lap, rubbing patterns on her palm, right where he had planted the kiss. She became aware of her rapid respiration and heartbeat as his gaze wandered from her half-hooded eyes to her parted lips, and up to her eyes again. The firelight coming from the fireplace in front of them was reflected in his eyes, turning his irises shinier and his skin more golden. She had always found him attractive – as inconceivable as it had appeared to Severus – but now? Now she found him so handsome she was having a hard time not pulling his body against hers and snogging him senseless, which made her wonder… Didn't he want to kiss her? Why wasn't he making any move? He needs a little push… She licked her lips, eyes twinkling, and the words were whispered.
"I love you, Severus."
A kiss. A caress. A squeeze on her hand. On her waist or knee. She had prepared herself for that, but not for him to smirk and say…
"Slytherin witch."
"Pardon?"
"I always kiss you when you say that. You said it on purpose."
Busted. She bit her bottom lip, unwilling to give up. "Maybe?"
"If you want a kiss, kiss me."
She pouted. "I wanted you to make the first move."
"I wanted you to say the words."
She raised an eyebrow. "Let me get this straight. You want to kiss me just as much as I want to kiss you, yet you aren't kissing me because you want to hear me beg first?"
"Five points to Slytherin for the apt summary."
She nudged him, eliciting a grin from him, a grin that grew slier when he spoke again.
"I wanted to tease you." She huffed. "And I like hearing you say you want to kiss me." With a gravelly voice, he added, "Not many people want to kiss me."
His low self-esteem struck again. Noticing he hadn't stopped holding her hand, she squeezed it. Then, she cupped his face, brushing her thumbs across his cheekbones, and gave him a playful grin, determined to remind him once again he was not unlovable.
"Their loss. You are a wonderful kisser."
At the half-timid half-smug smile he gave her, a funny, tingling sensation settled on her stomach. Severus put a lock of hair behind her ear, his finger tickling her earlobe as he leaned in. Her gaze fell on his parted mouth. She held her breath in anticipation.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
"Are we going to kiss any time soon or are you going to stare at my lips forever?"
"As if you weren't staring at mine."
"Never said I wasn't," she said with an impish grin Severus hardly resisted, but he did for the sole purpose of teasing her.
He had said he wanted to hear her say she wanted him to kiss her, and she still hadn't, not explicitly. It annoyed her and endeared her at the same time.
"Severus?"
"Yes?"
"Kiss me or I'll kiss you."
His mouth twisted into a smirk she barely registered, as he closed the gap in less than a second. They kissed, and kissed, and kissed. At one point, Skyrah climbed onto his lap, straddling him. He kissed her even more eagerly when her fingers tangled in his hair. The grip on her hips was almost possessive as if making sure she would stay in his arms for as long as possible. She had not drunk any elf-made wine or firewhisky, but she sure felt tipsy. She pulled back, remaining close enough to feel his breath hit her chin.
"I must admit I am happy they don't realize what they are missing. I don't have to be jealous or fear you might like somebody else's kisses better than mine."
He let out low chuckles and pecked her chin. "You are the only witch I want to kiss me like that."
It had sounded so natural, so genuine, that her breath caught in her throat. That is why her voice trembled when she said, "You do know I didn't only say I love you to get a kiss, do you? I meant it."
"I wouldn't have asked you to marry me if I wasn't absolutely certain, believe me," he replied, playing with her engagement ring.
His fingertips grazed the black pearl delicately, making sure it was still there.
"We'll get married soon, Severus. The war won't last forever," she whispered, resting her forehead against his. "You'll be able to call me your wife, and you won't have to remember we were forced into this. We will marry because that is our decision."
The hand that had been tangled in his hair was now massaging his nape. Under her touch, his breathing became regular and deep; his posture relaxed, yet his grip on her hips was firm.
"Severus?"
"Mm?"
"I want another kiss, and I am going for it."
His lips twitched into a crooked smile. "As you should."
Their mouths were millimeters apart when Corbin squealed. Now it was not another random color. Biting her bottom lip, Skyrah removed herself from Severus's lap and sat next to him, knees and shoulders brushing. Frustrated as they were for the interruption, they couldn't stay angry at Corbin, not when he was showing them his new creation.
"What did you draw, sweetheart?"
"Me, Mama, Dada, Aunt Dione, Hally," he said, pointing to each separate figure of the drawing.
The Snapes had a closer look at the last figure. Indeed, there were two circles on top of what looked like a face with a bundle of black ringlets on top. His glasses and hair. Two green points represented his eyes. Corbin remembered him, after all that time. If only Harry was there to see it…
"What a lovely drawing, sweetheart!" Skyrah exclaimed, pulling her son onto her lap and showering him with loud kisses.
The last one landed on his hooked nose. Automatically, Corbin howled with laughter. Skyrah giggled alongside her son when he tried to kiss her nose back. He had to stand on her knees to get there, but he accomplished his goal. A complacent grin broke into his face, as complacent as his father's whenever he felt self-satisfied. She sat Corbin back on her lap, seeing out of the corner of her eye how the pads of Severus's fingers traced the figure that represented Harry. There was a nostalgic smile on his face. He was so focused on the drawing he had missed the mother-and-son moment his family had just had plus the mirror-like, smug expression Corbin had learned from Severus himself.
"You should keep it in your office."
Severus raised his head and met her eyes, cheeks tainted pale pink as if he had been caught doing something wrong.
"He even drew you with a potion vial."
"Why in my office, exactly?"
"To brag about Corbin's artistic leanings in front of Albus and Phineas, why else?" He was about to protest when she added, seriously, "This drawing is meaningful for you. One day we can show Corbin how much he adored Harry."
"It is meaningful for you, too."
She hummed. "You spend many hours in your office." He gulped and looked away. Skyrah squeezed his knee. "I am not reproaching you. I just meant that if you miss Harry and have the drawing at hand, you can have a look at it. Looking at the photographs comforts me. Maybe the drawing comforts you, too. We already keep the album here, so…"
A pause followed. His eyes were fixed on the drawing.
"It is a cauldron."
"Excuse me?"
"He has drawn me with a cauldron, not with a vial."
"It is neither big nor round enough to be a cauldron."
"Proportions aren't his forte," he said, pointing to Corbin's figure in the drawing. It was almost as tall as Harry's. "Harry's glasses do not look round enough, either."
Skyrah smiled. That was his way to say he would keep the drawing. Getting bored of the adult conversation, Corbin pulled on Severus's robes, squealing play and potions over and over again.
"I told you he would be a little snarky Potions Master."
Severus smirked. "More like a little fussy Potions Master."
A ripple of laughter ran across the room – her laughter. This time, he missed it not, and just like that, Severus forgot about the war, about his father-in-law or his terrified students, about the darkness that filled him when he was far from his family.
Until late at night, that is.
