Epilogue
The High Table was covered in a tablecloth with silver embroidery and full of exquisite food; too expensive to regularly delight Hogwarts students with. Light shone from the ceiling, charmed to show the cloudless sky. White roses, with a sprinkling of red ones, adorned the walls and gave off a fresh smell of spring.
A waltz piece flooded the Great Hall as Severus led Skyrah to the dancefloor, the place the Houses tables used to occupy. He barely noticed the countless eyes that were on them. Skyrah, clad in a strapless white lace gown, commanded his rapt attention. Her hair was pulled up in an elegant bun, clasped by an ornament in the shape of a small rose that matched the color of her dress. The necklace of the crows contrasted it, as well as the pale skin he was tempted to caress. The enticement was as strong as his longing to kiss that radiant smile, the same she'd worn as she walked towards him and the officiant.
The sight of his bride with a bouquet of deep red roses, the shade identical to her lips, had left him breathless with anticipation. It must have shown, for Harry uttered a small laugh Severus didn't register. He failed to register, too, the flash from Dione's camera, too caught up wondering if his looks had risen to the occasion. He'd gone as far as grudgingly turning to Lucius for advice at the time of purchasing the ideal attire. Under Lucius's unyielding insistence, Severus had agreed to wear a rose from the same bush used to arrange Skyrah's bouquet.
"To bring some color to your pallid face," Lucius had assured, adjusting it in the pocket of his black tuxedo jacket.
He and Lucius had argued for days before Severus accepted to tie back his hair. Skyrah had run her fingers through his low ponytail, telling him that he was the most handsome man she'd ever laid eyes on. Her voice, trembling with love and desire, hadn't lied. That alone had paid off Lucius's complaints about his fashion sense. Indeed, Lucius was even more of a stickler for vogue than Narcissa. Severus was as little surprised by this as he was by the Malfoys' attitude post-war. After endless trials, they had endeavored to clear their name by giving large sums dedicated to the repair of Hogwarts. The jury found Draco and Narcissa not guilty thanks to Dione and the Snapes. Despite Severus's testimony, Lucius was still tried with a whole year of community service without his wand. The fact he had volunteered to collaborate with the aurors in charge of capturing runaway death eaters gave reason for his light sentence. At any rate, he was relieved he hadn't suffered the Carrow siblings' fate, now in Azkaban.
Taking his mind off the Malfoys, Severus began to waltz with Skyrah. Her grip on his hand was firmer than he had taught her, almost painful. He would have told her, but then she'd stop trying to seek his wedding ring with her fingers, and he couldn't bring himself to do it. She was still digesting that their marriage was now something more than an arrangement neither had been able to evade. He knew because he felt the same. They had waited for this day for too long.
Skyrah had everything she needed to relax, finally home following the immediate aftermath of the Battle. The peace of mind of knowing that all her family, including her mother, was now safe and sound. Her first taste of freedom. Warm water. Soapsuds. Bath salts scented with roses. A naked Severus caressing her arm as she lay on her side against him, nestled between his legs. The moment was idyllic until his fingers grazed her belly scar, and she flinched.
He brought his fingers back to her arm with a mumbled, "Sorry."
"It's okay. It just that… Aren't you repulsed by my scar?"
"It's only now I fully understand why mine don't repulse you. With or without it, you're gorgeous."
"And you're sweet." She put her fingers on his mouth before he could deny it. "But I didn't mean that. This scar's a reminder of your boggart nearly coming true…"
"I prefer viewing it as a reminder that you are with me, stronger than ever."
She gave him a sad smile. "You're so strong, too, so brave. I'm sorry I scared you."
He didn't reply – no wonder, considering he appeared to have a lump in his throat. He'd never been as frightened as the moment he saw her half-dead, and now that she kissed the mark Nagini had left on his neck and snuggled into him with a sigh, he couldn't help but hold her a little tighter.
"I love you," he murmured once he recovered his voice. It had still trembled with so much emotion a few of her tears wetted his neck, already damp from the bath.
"I love you too, fiancé." He let out a hoarse sob. "You didn't think I'd forget about our engagement, did you?" she asked in a teasing tone, hoping he'd smile at her. He did, and shook his head, bringing her hand to his mouth to kiss the black pearl encrusted in the engagement ring. "I want everybody to know you're the one I choose to spend my life with."
"Me too," he croaked into her wet hair. "There was a moment I believed that would be an impossible dream."
"I'm sorry you went through that unnecessary pain, and I'm sorry if I worried you when I insisted on fighting Voldemort."
"You wouldn't be the witch I've fallen in love with if you hadn't." He paused, pensive. "You haven't called him your father since he died."
"Only Connor deserves that title."
And he was proud she'd finally realized that. His fingers moved like spider legs up to her shoulder, where they encountered a lock of hair he began to play with. Her eyes closed automatically. If she hadn't been running her fingers through his chest hair, he would have thought she wasn't awake.
"Have you forgiven yourself?"
"For Lily? For my death-eater past?"
"For Albus."
His throat thickened. "No."
"I thought I'd never forgive myself for Faith, but I did today. I wish you'd forgive yourself for Albus, too. I reckon you will, someday."
"I'll disappoint you greatly."
She stopped toying with his chest hair and gazed up at him. "Never. I think that if Albus had lived a little longer, he'd have given you one last mission."
"Which is…?"
"To be kind to yourself."
He gulped. "He's the closest father figure I've ever had. The thought that I killed Corbin's grandfather…"
"He made a mistake by asking too much of you, but he wouldn't want you to keep suffering. No good parent wants that."
By his faraway look, her comment had stirred disturbing memories. Guilt-ridden, she showered his chest, neck and jaw with kisses until Tobias's ghost haunted him no more. Even though Severus didn't speak, she had the impression the kiss he pressed on the top of her head was a silent promise to honor Albus's memory and obey his last command.
He hadn't stopped playing with her hair. It came to a point she struggled to keep her eyes open.
"If you keep that up, I'll fall asleep on you."
"What makes you think that wasn't my aim from the very beginning?"
"Slytherin."
He smirked. "I'd figured you'd realize my purpose as soon as I touched your hair."
"Too tired to think."
"Understandable. Sleep now."
"I might snore."
"I'm aware," he said with a chuckle. "It's likely I'll snore as well. We'll be even."
"Good."
She'd fallen asleep by the time he murmured, "Sleep well, my heart."
With the end of the dance, cheers and applause broke out. To the guests, it looked like Severus was telling Skyrah he loved her – it wasn't like they didn't know he had a romantic side after witnessing their first kiss as husband and wife. However, they weren't quite right…
"Our dance has been flawless. I told you that you had quite a captivating wiggle of the hips."
"You'll tease me about that until we're grey and old, won't you, husband?"
"Always, wife."
Skyrah smiled, because she wouldn't have it any other way, and rubbed their noses together. She was about to pull back when she heard him breathing more heavily; felt his fingers squeezing her waist; watched as he brought his lips close to hers, not quite brushing yet. She wanted more, needed more, and she'd have closed the gap if he hadn't rasped her name, sending a thrill of anticipation through her body.
"You are the love of my life."
Teary-eyed and with a fluttering feeling in her stomach, she placed one hand on his chest to feel his heart, beating as quickly as hers.
"Have you been practicing to tell me that?" she asked softly.
It was then Severus learned that wearing a ponytail had disadvantages: leaving his rosy ears uncovered, for example. She noticed, of course, she did, but didn't point it out, nor did she tease him. She waited until he nodded, and then she slid her hand towards his nape. He drew in a short intake of breath, waiting for the kiss on the mouth he hadn't dared to give her, only for her to incline her head and whisper in his ear, "Now that you've told me, I can't wait for you to show me tonight."
The half-choke half-moan that escaped his throat got Skyrah grinning impishly. He began to move with her, hugging, rather than dancing, promising himself to show her every day, every second.
Severus didn't realize most guests had joined the dancefloor until somebody dragged him away from Skyrah. He hardly had time to process what was happening, and then Andraste was asking for a dance. He'd learned not to be nervous around her, only to feel like he'd just met her all over again now that her arms secured him. It wasn't until she chuckled and tilted her head towards Skyrah and Harry that Severus loosened up. Skyrah had accepted the dance, completely oblivious of Harry's atrocious dancing skills, and now looked quite flustered trying to follow an already lost Harry.
"My mother and I tried to teach her Irish dancing when she was six, and again when she was eleven. It was bold of us to assume she'd have acquired coordination skills by then." Andraste shook her head amused, fond memories flooding back. "No matter her age, she's still the same two-left feet girl. I never thought she'd agree to dance in public, much less have an impeccable first dance."
"She wasn't easy to persuade. We spent hours rehearsing to mask her insecurities."
"It certainly paid off, although her clumsiness reappears when you aren't leading her."
"She needs a confident partner. My son doesn't fit the profile. Why Miss Weasley hasn't told him to take up dancing lessons is a mystery."
Andraste threw her head back, laughing. It was a joyful, healthy sight – so different from the woman he'd met on the day of the Final Battle.
Severus had expected cobwebs and layers of dust to tickle his nose, yet the hall of the Irish Manor had no speck of filth. It all fell into place when an old house-elf appeared in front of them.
"Who is you?" he asked with alert ears and a squeaky voice, his Irish accent thick. "Quigley won't let you hurts the sisters. Quigley is a good house-elf."
"You definitely are," said Skyrah. "But my husband won't hurt us."
Quigley narrowed his oversized eyes at Severus's fingers, which happened to be on her waist. "You is married to mistress Skyrah?"
"I am."
"You is not Daniel Keen."
"Obviously," he drawled, more uneasy than annoyed, Skyrah noticed.
"Do you know where Mum is?" Dione asked, impatient.
"Quigley is taking care of mistress Andraste and helping with toddler. I is pleased to take you to them."
They followed the house-elf through a labyrinth of corridors and doors, listening to his rambles about how much Dione had grown, or how lonely the Manor had been these past years and how glad he was for the visit, all of that while looking askance at Severus with failed subtlety.
"I haven't even met your mother yet, and I'm already being judged," Severus whispered to Skyrah.
"Quigley's overprotective. He used to look at Daniel like that, too."
"That doesn't change the fact that your mother will disapprove of me."
The corner of her mouth curled. "Are you… nervous?"
Although Severus refused to reply, his slightly sweaty forehead gave him away. She'd just put her hand on top of his, placed on her waist, in an attempt to calm him, when Quigley stopped in front of a whitewash timber door.
"They is here."
"Thank you, Quigley. We'll be leaving soon," said Skyrah, smoothly. "For the time being, we'd like some privacy."
At his flattened his ears, Dione hastened to add, "But we'll come back! We've just been terribly busy."
"Quigley knows Manor is a secret. You only comes here occasionally, and I is happy to keep the place clean for sisters' return."
Dione thanked him, rubbing the top of his bald head affectionately until his ears twitched in contentment. A snap of fingers later, and he disapparated. Taking a big breath, Dione opened the door. Severus recognized Skyrah's old bedroom from the pensieve memories, elegantly furnished with a desk, a wardrobe and a few bookshelves packed with history and mythology books a teen Skyrah must have read and re-read a hundred times.
Skyrah cracked a smile at the sight of Corbin clasped in her grandmother's embrace with his thumb in his mouth. She was tempted to join them in bed despite its small size. Dione beat her to it, though, and enveloped Andraste in her skinny arms with such force she woke her and Corbin up. Andraste didn't speak, she couldn't even if she wanted, and when a gasping sob burst from her, Dione said, "I'm here, Mum. We're here."
"Auntie Dione?" wondered Corbin, rubbing his eyes.
Dione chuckled, realizing only then that she was crying happy tears, and kissed his chubby cheek soundly.
"Morning, Corbin! I've seen you've met your grandma."
"Glanny Andy!"
"Yes, Corbin, she's your granny," she said, helping him and Andraste sit on the bed. "And look! Look who's there!"
Corbin followed the direction Dione was pointing to.
"Mama! Dada!"
They watched in amusement how he kicked his legs, leapt out of bed and waddled as fast as he could towards his beaming parents. Skyrah leaned on the doorway so that Severus could kneel and pick Corbin up without worrying about her questionable ability to stand on her own. He couldn't be more grateful.
"Son," Severus choked out as Corbin flung his arms round him. Though he trusted Skyrah and Andraste with Corbin's protection, he found himself wondering, "You aren't hurt, are you?" Inspecting him for wounds, Severus found a sloppy kiss pressed on his big nose. It elicited a laugh from him. "I missed you too. Do you want to give your mother a kiss as well?"
He lifted Corbin towards her, positioning him in such a way he could only kiss her chin. He hadn't considered Corbin's hand would reach her bruised cheek. Severus almost recoiled, but Skyrah didn't wince – the soreness was overshadowed by the immense relief of being reunited with her son. Instead, she grinned mischievously and planted a tickling kiss on the tip of his small nose. The laughter that came from him was too infectious for anybody in the room not to smile or laugh along, or so Severus believed until he looked at Skyrah.
"I thought I wouldn't hear that sound again," she muttered so lowly only Severus heard her.
Severus would have said something, anything, or taken her hand in his; but he was holding a still-giggling Corbin, and he got suddenly voiceless.
"I thought I wouldn't be with any of you."
This, Andraste and Dione heard.
"Skyrah," her mother whispered, inwardly counting each bruise, scratch and mark that wasn't supposed to be there. Her eyes fastened on the scarred tissue visible through her torn dress. "Did Tom…"
"Voldemort," corrected Skyrah. "It was Voldemort."
Dione cringed beside Andraste, and that was when it dawned on her that he'd aimed to kill his own daughter. If Andraste hadn't been seated on the bed, she'd have fallen on her knees.
"I'm fine, Mum. Do you know the Malfoys' son?"
She glanced at a flushed Dione. "I've heard about him."
"He tried to heal me. When it was clear it wasn't working, his patronus guided Severus to me."
Skyrah put a hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention from Corbin's prying fingers on his neck scar to Andraste.
"You saved my daughter?" she asked, voice cracking.
Under her scrutiny, Severus nearly used occlumency out of habit. He wished to leave all that behind though, and knowing Skyrah valued sincerity, he presumed so would Andraste.
"She saved me long before I did."
It was a good thing he was holding Corbin, or else, Skyrah would have snogged Severus in front of her mother à la Dione-and-Draco. She settled for a cheek kiss. Innocent as it was, he felt like the temperature had risen. Corbin wasn't precisely helping, fascinated by the color of his father's cheeks, as if studying a pale potion which had turned bright…
"Pink!"
That raised a laugh from all bar Severus. He was still cursing himself for blushing like a dunderhead by the time the laughter was replaced by two simple yet deep words: thank you.
"There is no need to thank me, Mrs Fawley."
"Andraste, please. Mrs Fawley reminds me of my mother-in-law."
Severus gulped. By her tone, their relationship had been quite strained. He could only hope his calling her Mrs Fawley hadn't spoiled theirs.
"I apologize, Andraste. I was not entirely sure how to address you."
"That's all right. You seem to be quite the gentleman. I'm glad to finally meet you." The smile she'd given him, one that reminded him of Dione – genuinely kind, accepting – died on her lips. "But if you're here, it means that either, you've run away and need a place to hide or the war's over."
"The latter," said Severus. "We won."
"Is he gone?"
"At last," confirmed Skyrah, incapable of reading Andraste's expression. "His killing curse rebounded when Harry disarmed him."
"Harry Potter? He lived, again?"
"A handy habit of his."
Skyrah smirked at Severus's comment before nodding at her mother.
"Thank Merlin you didn't lose another child."
"I was luckier than you."
Though Skyrah had taken a mild tone, the comment struck them all.
Resented, Andraste muttered, "He told you."
"He didn't tell me how many sisters I lost."
"Mum, what's she talking about?" asked Dione, putting a shaking hand on Andraste's knee. "Did Voldemort…"
Despite the question being incomplete and the answer unvoiced, Dione felt like crying.
"He was with many witches he later murdered. I don't know the number," Andraste confessed eventually, eyes on her lap. "I didn't want to know."
"You do know how many times you got pregnant, don't you?" insisted Skyrah, more harshly than intended. Neither Andraste flinching nor the warning look from Dione spurred her to mumble an apology.
"Skyrah," Severus started gently, caressing Corbin's hair now that he'd buried his face in the crook of his father's neck. "We know how harrowing miscarriages are. Pressuring your mother–"
"I deserve the truth. Dione, too."
"Perhaps now is not the time."
"It's okay, Severus. She's right." Andraste breathed deeply and met her eyes. "Two. I lost two baby girls."
Skyrah's voice came out breathless, as if Voldemort was strangling her from his death, when she retorted, "You never told me, told us–"
"You were children."
"Not even when we grew up."
Andraste rose from the bed and approached her, trying to remain calm. "You'd have blamed yourself."
"Is that why you let me assume my grandmother had died a natural death too?"
"You were too hard on yourself. You still are." Andraste took Skyrah's hand away from her womb, where it had instinctively rested since she revealed the number. "I just wanted my heartbroken girl to smile. I love you."
Though no tears were shed, Skyrah failed to stifle a sob as she drew her mother into her arms.
"I love you too," she said, lowering her voice to the point Andraste had to make an effort to hear her. "But I wish you'd have told me. I wouldn't have asked you to abort Di–"
"Shh. I've never held it against you."
"I'm glad you didn't listen to me. I don't know what I'd have done without her. She's a gift."
"So are you."
A noisy yawn from Corbin interrupted them – their cue to go home.
Later, Severus was helping Skyrah get into bed while Dione, Corbin and Andraste stayed downstairs. Strangely, Skyrah didn't pretend that she disliked resting in bed. On the contrary, she grabbed his pillow and sniffed it, heaving a deep sigh.
"Is that your way to tell me I reek of sweat and you'd rather smell my pillow than me?" Severus asked with a smirk.
"We both smell."
He hummed. "Shall we have a bath before going to sleep?"
Her arms were raised as an invitation for him to pick her up bridal style and carry her to the bathroom even before he could finish the question.
"Eager, aren't you?" He kissed both her hands and lowered her arms. "I still need to run it. I'll go downstairs, see if they need anything and if Harry's back, and come back for you. In the meantime, do allow yourself to rest."
She responded by hugging his pillow to her chest and shutting her eyes.
Harry hadn't arrived yet. Severus found Dione in her bedroom. Apparently, she'd put on her pajama but hadn't made it into the bedsheets, slumbering on top of them instead. She hadn't had the energy to put Corbin in his crib, either, for he was sleeping on top of her. Andraste watched them so still Severus wondered if she knew she wasn't alone.
"A Hufflepuff," she said at last, without facing him. "Her father would be elated. He used to look at me like you do Skyrah, like Tom never did… You love her deeply."
Air caught in his throat. Albeit it wasn't a question, she was expecting an answer.
"She's my heart."
Andraste grinned, meeting his eyes at last. "You mended hers."
She left the door ajar and went to sit down on the couch in the living room, jerking her head to indicate Severus should follow her. He complied.
"Skyrah said that Malfoy boy helped her. Why would he?"
"It isn't my place to say."
"So you know the reason… It's Dione, isn't it?"
Years of practiced occlumency and utmost caution as a spy didn't prevent him from raising his eyebrows in surprise. Now he knew where Skyrah got her observation skills from.
"I've never seen him, but he must be blond, like all Malfoys; Dione's always had a thing for blonds. She fancies him. If he returned her feelings, it would explain why he'd care enough to help Skyrah."
"Is his physical appearance the only reason that led you to such conclusion?"
"Oh, no!" Andraste stifled a chuckle. "Dione'd blush if I mentioned him, and would daydream and smile a lot. There are very few reasons to smile in a cell." She grew bitter all of a sudden. "I'd hoped she wouldn't be crushing on him anymore. I want to believe she's got a better sense of right and wrong than me and knows with whom she shouldn't associate."
"You're afraid she's fallen in love with someone who can hurt her like Voldemort hurt you."
"Shouldn't I? His parents are Death Eaters."
"They changed sides today."
She snorted, "How very convenient."
"Without the Malfoys, your daughters wouldn't have survived. If Draco hadn't jumped in front of the killing curse Voldemort shot, Dione would be gone." Andraste's eyes widened. "I don't believe his intention is hurting her, despite being marked."
She digested the news quietly, eyes dwelling on his covered forearm.
"Do you regret becoming a Death Eater?"
There, the tricky question with an apparent inexistent answer Severus had been dreading since the beginning.
"I regret the sins I committed as a Death Eater, but I don't regret becoming one. I wouldn't have married Skyrah, conceived Corbin and grown to care for Harry like a child of my own."
"Do you think Draco Malfoy is similar to you in that sense?"
"Would that be a relief?"
"A huge one. I've seen you interacting with Corbin and Skyrah. You're a decent man, a good match for my daughter."
"I'm far from perfect."
"Who says that's a bad thing?" she asked, grinning lopsidedly.
"Most mothers-in-law when assessing their sons-in-law. I should have known you wouldn't be like them. My mistake."
He berated himself for his use of sarcasm. It wouldn't help his case, or would it? Her grin had broadened.
"I assume you entered the Death Eater circle under no coercion. For some reason, you had a change of heart."
"Your assumption isn't erroneous, which again, makes me wonder why you'd be okay with Skyrah being with me, especially when you'd accepted Daniel as her future spouse."
"Shouldn't a son-in-law talk his mother-in-law into believing he's good for her daughter? I should've known you wouldn't be like any other son-in-law. My mistake."
Confused as he was, his mouth twitched at her teasing him with his own words. She smiled back but grew serious rather quickly.
"Are you jealous of Daniel?"
"It's been a long time since I thought Skyrah would choose him over me."
"But you still believe I'd choose him over you?" Severus hung his head, hiding behind his hair, sweaty from the battle. "This isn't a contest. When Skyrah told me about you, she had that spark in her eyes I thought I'd never see after Daniel's death. Why wouldn't I be glad she found you?" He snorted, the answer evident to him. "Oh, I won't lie. I'm intrigued by your story, but I won't judge you. I fell in love with the monster you decided to follow. I was young, blinded by love. I'm afraid Dione–"
"Draco isn't like Voldemort."
"He doesn't need to be like him to hurt her. They don't even need to be together. If he broke her heart, I'd never forgive myself. I already failed to protect Skyrah's. I don't want to fail Dione."
"No matter how much we want to protect our children from it all, we can't. I learned that with Harry."
"I can still try."
He nodded. He'd have given anything to aid Harry when he didn't know the boy's location, or whether he was injured.
"You should ask Draco himself to get an answer. What I know for certain is that he didn't have a choice, being Lucius's son. As for failing your daughters, they haven't got that perception of you. Skyrah's a nurturing mother – if she's learned parental skills from somebody, it's from you."
Andraste gave him a thankful smile and took his hand, giving it a squeeze – brief enough for it not to be awkward, long enough for him to feel her bones. It was then he realized the muggle clothes she had put on, borrowed from Dione, looked baggy in her. He didn't risk upsetting her by asking her when the last time she ate was. Rather, he summoned a potion nonverbally. Judging by her frown, she didn't recognize it.
"It'll provide you with the nutrients you need without harming your body," he explained, showing it to her. "I'll brew more for you and ask Corbin's godmother to come and run some tests to make sure you are well. She's a medi-witch."
Andraste grabbed the flask, grinning. "I stand by what I said. You're a decent man. Charming, too."
Only when he turned on the bath tap, far from her, did he allow himself to smile at the compliment.
Andraste was still chuckling softly when she thanked Severus.
"For teaching Skyrah how to waltz?"
"For making her happy. It's the most valuable gift you could've given me." Aware that Severus would get flustered and wouldn't know what to reply, Andraste focused on her youngest daughter, swaying with Draco. "He makes Dione happy, too. Does he talk to you about her?"
"He's occasionally sought my advice when planning a date."
"You sound surprised."
"I don't understand his reasoning. I know what my wife's idea of ideal date is but not what her sister's is, nor am I particularly interested in it."
"Yet you assist him."
"To the best of my ability."
Because he wants them to stay together, Andraste thought. The truth was Draco had shown prudence, waiting until after the announcement of his favorable verdict to take Dione on a date. Andraste trusted him, trusted her daughter, but it wasn't easy for her to see her little one had become a young woman without her and was now busy with healer training and dates. She'd relied on Connor and little Dione to brighten her days when Skyrah began a relationship with Daniel. Now she had nobody to lean on, nobody other than the most unexpected person of all: Narcissa. She, too, felt the same about her only son. Their friendship, though bizarre and unforeseen, had been a relief to both, Dione and Draco.
Draco smiled briefly at Andraste, having noticed her watching, and would have seen her smiling back if Dione hadn't dragged him mid-dance towards the only guests who were still seated.
"Why don't you join the dancefloor? Draco and I will take care of the baby."
"Thank you, Miss Fawley, but I'd rather hold her for a while longer."
Before Dione could give Minerva a nod, Corbin exclaimed, "Look, Auntie Dione! Look! Auntie Poppy's teachin' me!"
"I see…" A smile teased her lips at the sight of Poppy twirling Corbin and moving his arms. She thought she heard Draco mutter under his breath that Corbin should teach his brother how to dance, but she ignored him and folded her arms across her chest, directing her gaze to Eileen. "What's your excuse?"
"I'm busy watching Brenna Eileen Snape," she said, stressing the middle name with pride as fierce as the day she met her granddaughter.
After the name was revealed, Eileen stared at Skyrah and Severus, both lying on their bed, holding hands. The moment appeared to be taken from her most pleasant dreams, but it was real, very real, and she didn't know what to feel, much less how to react. Should she thank them? Ask them why in Merlin's name did they reckon naming the baby after her was a good idea?
"Why Brenna?" she went for instead, focusing the attention elsewhere if only to feel a little less overwhelmed.
"Severus and I thought it was fitting. It's the female name for Bran."
"Bran? As in Bran the Blessed?" At Severus's cocked eyebrow, Eileen shrugged. "I may have skimmed through the mythology books your fiancé likes to borrow from the library. I still don't see why it's fitting."
"It means crow, Mum." Eileen's mouth formed an 'O' shape. "You know how stubborn Skyrah is. I couldn't do anything to stop her once she thought she'd found the name."
Severus barely concealed a smirk when Skyrah snorted, "As if you didn't like it. The first thing you did when I suggested it was to kiss my baby bump and call her your shiny little crow."
Shiny, Eileen realized, because that was what her own name meant. Granted, she'd have never thought that those black birds, often viewed as ill omens, would be described as shiny, but the baby did have a certain glow to her. Still, if that had been his reaction…
"…You chose her middle name before her first name," she whispered, light-headed. "I'm unworthy of this."
"Are you? You are my mother," said Severus, surprising Eileen with his conviction.
"I'm not a good role model for her."
"I disagree. I want my daughter to know the mistakes she will make won't prevent her from becoming the person she wants to be, like you."
Eileen turned her gaze to Brenna, hoping Severus wouldn't catch the tears that began to accumulate on her eyelashes. He'd seen her cry countless times – she'd do everything within her power to make sure he wouldn't see her in such state again, no matter her tears were of happiness.
She took her time to examine Brenna's features. The cheekbones and ears inherited from Severus were balanced by Skyrah's chin and mouth. It was too soon to tell whose black hair gene she carried. Corbin had only started to show some waves – the same kind his mother had. Eileen was most smitten by those curious, unfocused eyes, as dark as her own. So captivated by Brenna she was, she didn't acknowledge a new presence in the room until she heard, "May I hold her?"
Despite having recognized that voice as that of her boss, Eileen sent the intruder her best fed-up-librarian glare. Minerva was unfazed by her attitude.
"I'm her godmother."
"I'm her grandmother."
"You've already held her."
"I haven't finished yet."
Minerva was about to retort when Severus made a gesture with his hand, urging her to be patient, while Eileen walked to the corner of the room, mumbling to Brenna how some people lacked manners. Seeing she wouldn't be cradling the baby anytime soon, Minerva asked, "Has she got your nose, Severus?"
"You'll have to wait until my mother is done gushing over her to find out," he said with a smirk. "Until then… I heard Gryffindor is losing the House Cup."
Minerva clicked her tongue. "We'll get back in the game soon."
"You won't surpass Slytherin. My wife's doing a magnificent job as Head of the House."
"Are you admitting she's better than you?"
"And proud of it. She's doing a better job than I ever did."
"Oh, Severus," started Skyrah. "Don't sell yourself short. I learned from the best."
"Pomona?"
She poked him in the ribs playfully. "You know very well I meant you. You were great. A bit strict, but great nonetheless."
"You're biased."
"Only a little?"
He stopped himself short from kissing her cheeky grin.
"She's right, you know?" said Minerva, hardly disguising her nostalgia in her voice. "You weren't as bad as you believe. You're missed."
"I beg to differ. Students–"
"Not only students live in Hogwarts, Severus."
His expression softened, realizing it was she, who missed him, like he missed her.
"Teaching isn't for me, Minerva. I need to be my own boss, have some control over my life. Running my own potions shop and researching has provided me with that."
"I understand." But, by her bittersweet tone, she still thought Hogwarts wasn't the same without its bat of the dungeons. She cleared her throat. "Is Mister Malfoy accommodating himself to being your assistant?"
"He is. He's always shown proficiency in the potion-making area and is adept at establishing connections with potential clients and purveyors to get ingredients of excellent quality."
"I'm glad." Minerva turned her head to Skyrah. "How are you feeling? Poppy mentioned there was excessive bleeding."
"She detected it in time, and Severus had all the necessary potions. I feel less fatigued than when I gave birth to Corbin."
The reassuring smile she gave Minerva hid the pain and the fright Skyrah had felt perfectly. Minerva didn't miss, however, how pale Severus had become.
"Do you think Voldemort's curse..."
"Despite my healing her, Poppy believes there's a chance having been cursed made her more susceptible to developing complications during delivery; as do I."
"The baby and I are well," assured Skyrah, cupping his face so that he could do nothing but look at her eyes. "The rest doesn't matter."
But it did matter.
Not even after death, did Voldemort leave them be. Severus was holding back because of Minerva and Eileen, afraid to cause a scene or show his vulnerability. They all knew it.
"Regardless, listen to Severus when he tells you to rest," started Minerva.
"Agreed," followed Eileen, seeing Minerva was tilting her head towards her, seeking her collaboration. "You're even more stubborn than him."
Severus would have smiled at their support if he hadn't been too caught up thinking about everything that could have gone wrong. He did relax, though, when Skyrah promised she would.
Eileen kissed Brenna's forehead and finally allowed Minerva to take the newborn in her impatient arms.
"Oh! How bonny!" Minerva tapped at the tiny nose – Skyrah's. "What's her name?"
"My mother will tell you."
Eileen did her best to control the blush that came to her face and pushed her chest out with such pride Severus smiled at her. "Brenna Eileen Snape."
"A beautiful name," said Minerva truthfully, understanding why Eileen appeared so possessive of the newborn.
Minutes of idle chatter later, Minerva put Brenna in the crib next to the bed after Severus nodded his permission at her. She returned to Hogwarts shortly after, having to comply with her duty as a headmistress on one of the most hectic days at the school. Eileen, in contrast, stayed, watching Brenna doze.
"She'll soon need a stuffed crow to help her sleep. I'm afraid Corbin isn't keen on sharing Nox," joked Severus, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"I'll sew her one."
He tensed beside her. "I assumed…"
"That I'd bought it? They don't sell crow toys for babies. Who knew I'd be glad to have worked in that dreadful textile factory? Sewing charms have never been my forte."
Still in shock, he squeezed her shoulder, hoping she'd understand he was thanking her.
"I'll make your children proud. I love them. I love you."
Although he'd never thought he'd ever say the words back to her, in that moment, he did, and he meant them.
"Oh, c'mon!" pressed Dione. "Don't you want to dance with your son?"
"She doesn't trust me with the baby," said Minerva, though the glint in her eyes indicated she was merely teasing Eileen, who rolled her eyes.
"Her godfather will make sure nothing happens to her, right?"
Draco nodded somewhat awkwardly at Dione, uneasy under the judging stare of his former librarian. When the Snapes asked him to be Brenna's godfather, his instinct had been to refuse. Although Skyrah and Severus had insisted Brenna wouldn't have been born without his help during the Final Battle, Harry had been the one to persuade him. It only took one of his irritating smirks – which had grown disturbingly similar to Severus's – and a teasing 'I've got Teddy, I'll beat you to being the best godfather' comment for Draco to accept the challenge.
"May I?"
Minerva let Draco pick the baby up without complaints, perhaps because her arms were sore by then. Dione's dreamy expression as she watched them didn't go unnoticed by anyone but Draco himself, charmed by the way Brenna cooed and opened and shut her tiny hands, incapable of following the rhythm of the music yet relishing in it.
Glancing one last time at Brenna, Eileen meddled into the dancing couples, nearly colliding with Narcissa and Lucius, and stood at a close distance from Severus and Andraste.
"Your mother's watching me as if I'd stolen you from her," whispered Andraste, causing Severus to stop dancing and swing around.
"Mum, what are you doing here?"
"What do you think I'm doing here?" Eileen replied, mirroring his raised eyebrow.
"I'm busy dancing, as you can easily see," he said, tilting his head towards Andraste.
"I don't see you dancing."
Severus narrowed his eyes. A snarky remark was on the tip of his tongue when Andraste squeezed his shoulder.
"It's okay. The song's about to end, anyway. It's been a pleasure, Severus."
He could barely mutter a likewise. Eileen had already yanked at his arm and got him into a dancing position. The waltz began.
"You shouldn't have interrupted us."
"I didn't. It was she, who made you stop. I was willing to wait."
Against that, he couldn't argue. Even though he'd expected the silence that fell over them to be uncomfortable, it appeared to be the contrary. She followed his lead with ease, her lips curled not into her usual sneer but into the beginning of a smile.
"I didn't know you could dance…"
"Whom do you think you got your talent from? Your father? I grew up in pureblood balls, under the eyes of those who criticized every single move I made and word I uttered."
"Do you miss that world?"
"Not in the slightest. I'm perfectly content being here and now with my half-blood son on his wedding day. I never thought I'd be invited to such an occasion..."
"I wouldn't want my mother to miss it," he said earnestly.
And to think there was a time Severus didn't even tell her he was married nor replied to her letters...
"You better rescue Skyrah from Harry when the song finishes, or he'll convince her to dance with him for the third time," she jested, disguising the emotions that were overwhelming her from him quite poorly.
He still let out a deep-throated chuckle she recorded in her memory – for most of her life, she had only got bitterness from him.
When the time came, she went back to her seat, squeezed between Minerva and Poppy. With Draco and Dione still entertained with Brenna, Eileen focused back on her son, who had recuperated Skyrah. The tender passion with which Severus held her and the way in which she melted into him as though they had no audience turned Eileen's eyes watery. They had everything she had lacked with Tobias, and for that, she was thankful.
"I feel like I'm invading their privacy," murmured Minerva.
"Me too. It looks like they're kissing without actually kissing… Making love, even."
Though Eileen had never called herself a corny person, she found Poppy's description to be the most accurate of them all. Their intimacy was too palpable in the way the couple danced, yet she was incapable of taking her eyes off of them. Even Corbin had stopped dancing with Poppy, as mesmerized by his parents as if he were watching a potion blowing multi-colored smoke after a new ingredient had been added. Not even Harry's poor attempt at dancing with his grandmother distracted them.
Later, Andraste let Harry go after teasing him about his non-existent dancing talent. Like mother, like son, she'd remarked. He couldn't feel embarrassed after that. He made his way towards an unaccountably-still-hungry Ron and collapsed onto the seat, watching Draco reluctantly pass Brenna to Eileen. For once, Harry sympathized with him. He'd hold his sister forever as well. He'd been tempted to do so from the day she'd been born.
Harry hadn't learned just how restless toddlers could be until he found himself babysitting his own brother during labor hours. The first thing he'd done to keep Corbin entertained had been to transfigure a phoenix-patterned pajama into an Antipodean Opaleye costume, a dragon Corbin had been obsessed with ever since Dione read to him a book her own father used to read to her. Corbin pretended to roar, breathe fire and eat candies as if they were a flock of sheep for about an hour before he got bored. Harry suggested drawing bats and spiders, bobbing for apples in a container full of water and carving a pumpkin – but nothing seemed to sway Corbin, nothing except for Quidditch, that is. At least, when he told Corbin about the latest match Ginny took part in, the bawls ceased, and Corbin stopped trying to sneak into his parents' bedroom to see Mummy, Daddy and Wenna already, as he'd put it. Articulating the R sound was still complicated for him – his parents were starting to wonder if a speech therapist should intervene, but Harry couldn't help but think Corbin's way of speaking was endearing.
By the time Poppy strode into the living room, the Snape brothers were sprawled on the sofa, with Harry reading to Corbin... and Nox.
"Auntie Poppy! Sis is here!"
Harry jumped up from the sofa, having noticed too late that Corbin had swung himself off his lap and was now mounting the stairs. In his state of excitement, Nox had slipped through his fingers and lay on the floor, forgotten.
"Corbin, wait! Don't run up the stairs!" cried Harry.
To his and Poppy's surprise, the creaking stopped.
"Huwy up!"
Harry took a big breath and left the Quidditch book Skyrah had given him for his fifteenth birthday on the sofa, ignoring Corbin's whines.
"Are my mother and the baby okay?" he asked Poppy, trying to look composed. "And my father? He was so jittery…"
No sooner had she given him a reassuring response than Corbin began to shout, "Haaawwwyyy!"
Poppy chuckled softly, gesturing for Harry to go with him already. Much as he'd told Corbin not to run, he found himself sprinting.
Soon, Brenna was in his arms. Meeting her, to his shame, felt much different from his first encounter with Corbin. His joy had been obscured with jealousy. Now he felt like crying, more out of relief and gratitude than anything.
"Hello, Sis. I've wanted to meet you for a long time now," he crooned, sitting on the edge of the bed, near Severus.
Meanwhile, Corbin clambered atop the bed and sat on his dad's lap, craning his neck.
"She's got winkles… Is she a glanny? Why's she pink?"
Harry let out a small laugh. "You looked like this too. The wrinkles and pinkish color will go away."
Corbin turned slightly to look at Severus, convinced Harry was kidding him, but he received a nod. Still confused, Corbin brought his hand to Brenna's. A big gasp escaped him when she grasped two of his fingers.
"Look, Daddy! A deal! She wants a deal!"
"Indeed," said Severus, smiling proudly. "What is it you'll ask for?"
"Info."
Amused, Skyrah shifted in bed and whispered in Severus's ear, "He's learnt that from you."
"Nonsense. That mischievous grin is all yours."
She had meant that their son had learnt the value of deals and negotiations from Severus, but had no time to clarify it. Harry was already playing along, asking Corbin what exactly he wanted to know.
After giving it some thought, Corbin looked at Brenna and asked, "How did you get outta Mummy's tummy?"
"Well, er…" Harry glanced at his parents, silently begging for help. He received no answer other than Severus biting the inside of his cheek and a suppressed laughter from Skyrah. "I don't think she can tell you."
"Can you?"
"It's a difficult process," explained Skyrah. "That's why your Aunt Poppy helped us."
Corbin tilted his head. They feared he'd ask why the baby was in the tummy in the first place when he nuzzled his small hooked nose into Brenna's cheek.
"Smells so nice."
Skyrah and Severus smiled as Corbin caressed the baby's torso. It relaxed Brenna, for she yawned.
"Oh, no!" Corbin drew back. "No bedtime yet! We've to play potions!"
"She can't play with you yet, Son. She needs to grow up," said Severus, bringing Corbin to his chest. If the costume hadn't featured wings, Severus would have rubbed his back.
Corbin babbled a muffled response – unintelligible if one didn't listen carefully – but Harry did, and though he didn't catch all the words, he understood enough.
Harry.
Not.
Home.
Sister.
Play.
Harry had noticed the way Corbin lit up whenever he stepped out of the chimney back from auror training, half-covered in soot; how stoked Corbin was to show him his latest drawing or potion, and how Corbin anchored him by hugging his legs to keep him at home for as long as possible. Corbin missed him, and a little sister to play with would keep him company. Nobody had informed him he'd have to wait longer than a pregnancy.
"Kiddo." Corbin didn't look at him, but Harry knew he was listening. He always listened to his greatest hero. "Now that Brenna's sleepy, would you like to play potions with me?"
Corbin went back to his cheerful self and raised his arms, nearly hitting Severus's chin. "Yes! A potion for Mummy!"
"For me?"
"You tired."
Rather than waiting for her confirmation, Corbin crawled towards her, stepping on his dragon tail, and snuggled into her chest. Auntie Poppy always told him hugs are the best medicine, after all. Kisses, as well. Corbin loved his Mummy's kisses, especially those that landed on his cheek, like the one she was giving him.
"I love you, sweetheart." She pulled off the dragon-head hood to ruffle his hair. "Your Aunt Dione needs to see you in this costume."
"She will," assured Severus, "but I'd like my mother and Minerva to meet Brenna first, if that's okay."
Skyrah agreed.
By the way Severus was looking at Harry, Harry knew he was supposed to pass Brenna to him and floo call Eileen and Minerva. He complied only with the first part, elongating the family moment. Severus didn't mind – he was enthralled rocking Brenna.
"There, there," he said in a soothing voice when she kicked her legs. "You're too young to play football."
"But she'll play footy with me, wight, Daddy?" asked Corbin, still cuddling with his mother.
"One day."
Corbin pouted. "Waiting's boling."
"We can help her grow up."
Corbin gasped and gazed up at Severus with attentive eyes. "With a spell?"
"With something more powerful than that."
"A potion?"
"No potion can compare to…"
Severus paused to create a dramatic effect, amused by Corbin's anticipation. He was holding his breath, holding his mum's hand strongly. Skyrah expected Severus to take advantage of the situation and say 'Broccoli. You should try eating it too, Son.'
"Love," he whispered instead, looking straight at Skyrah. "Love will help her grow up."
If Harry hadn't been watching Corbin, who was pressing his lips in concentration, he would have seen the kiss she gave Severus. He only heard it.
"Love you, Sis. Glow up soon, 'kay?" said Corbin, rubbing their noses together like Skyrah sometimes did with him.
And he climbed out of bed, joyfully gabbling about the potion he and Harry would brew. Skyrah contemplated the scene with cloudy eyes. Although Severus was doing a better job at hiding his emotions, he did smile gently.
Amongst the noise Corbin made descending the stairs, Harry said, "I think it was a bit difficult to get pregnant this time because Brenna wanted to give us something to be happy about on Halloween."
While shutting the door after him, Harry caught a glimpse of Skyrah kissing a tear that had unexpectedly trickled down Severus's cheek as he traced his daughter's jaw – a sight to behold. Harry would have spied on them unapologetically. Too bad Corbin was impatiently shouting his brother's name.
Harry shook his head, realizing Ron had asked him a question. "Sorry?"
"Want some?" repeated Ron, showing him the piece of cake he'd just taken.
"No, thanks. I'm full."
"You sure? It's the last one."
"I'm sure," he replied absentmindedly. He'd spotted Ginny chatting with Hermione, and seeing her in a dress her Aunt Muriel would never approve of did embarrassing things to his body. "She'd look so pretty dressed in white…"
Ron followed Harry's gaze and almost choked on the cake he'd started to devour. "Are you thinking about marrying my sister?!"
Harry startled, his pulse quickening, and stood up, desperately trying to come up with an excuse. "Grandma Eileen! Don't you fancy a dance with your grandson?"
Half-touched half-horrified; that was how Eileen looked when Harry made a dart to her. She barely heard Minerva's cackle of laughter.
…
A/N:
Dear readers,
Wherever you are, please, stay safe and healthy. I hope my fic, flawed as it is, made you forget about reality for a while. Thank you for your infinite patience (and sorry for my posting schedule).
A few people have asked for a sequel. I don't see myself writing one at the moment. However, this won't be the last you see of the Snapes. I want to write one-shots related to "It's Not That Simple." I'm already working on two (check my profile to read the summaries). Is there any missing scene or scenario you'd like to read? Something you wish I had dealt with in the epilogue? Let me know (pm me, review or contact me via tumblr). I might turn your ideas into one-shots ;)
Please don't stop following this story/me as an author if you're interested in receiving notifications. If you don't have a FFN account, follow me on tumblr (felixfeliciswriterblog) to learn about the updates ;)
A special thanks to electrogirl88 and Sharklist6285 for their beta work.