A/N: see the previous chapters. I've
already made this speech. J
Katie Weasley: You hit the nail right on the head with Antonia.
Amanita Lestrange: I have a special surprise just for you in an upcoming chapter…
Tessie: I'm glad you enjoyed the story thus far.
Rushumble, Francesca, Jade, PotterLovingAsh, and Catriona Snape, thanks for your reviews. There's more great stuff to come!
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One week later
She heard a cry in the dark, one so filled with anguish that it woke her from her pleasant slumber. "What's wrong?" she murmured sleepily.
He mentally lit a candle and showed her the Dark Mark on his arm. It was black and burning into him. "It's time," he said to her, gripping her hand. "And he'll want you to come, as well."
The blond witch nodded and slipped into a set of black robes. Yes, black seemed to be the appropriate color when you were meeting the one that would, most likely, be the cause of your death.
"Are you ready?" he asked in a hushed voice.
"As ready as I will ever be," the woman replied grimly.
He threw some powder in the fireplace and watched the flames turn green. "Then let's go." They stepped into the fireplace together and wrapped their arms around each other. "Astronomy tower," Snape announced. They then disappeared.
In the astronomy tower, he stepped out of the fireplace. He held out a hand to his wife and tried to prevent her from bumping her head on the low grate.
"Ouch!" she cried, clutching the top of her head with one hand while attempting to dust off soot with the other.
"Shh," he hissed furiously, pulling his broom out from the closet that he'd hidden it in just days before.
"You'd better let me fly," she insisted. "You're abominable on a broomstick, and we both know it."
"I really don't…"
"Shut up, Severus. There's no way in Hell I'd let you fly with me on the back of the broom. I'm no great athlete on the back of a broom, either, but at least there's no danger of my crashing."
They were late enough, already, so he gave in without (much of) a fight.
At Hogsmeade, Antonia landed behind The Three Broomsticks and transfigured the broomstick to look like a rock.
"No, don't turn it into a rock!" Severus hissed.
"Do you want me to turn it into something obvious, like a magenta sphere or something equally stupid?"
"No, but you'll lose it! When we get back, you won't remember which rock it was… And you know I won't recognize it…"
"No, I won't," she protested. "Put the damned thing in your pocket, we won't have to worry about it."
He complied and wrapped his arms around her as they apparated together.
There they were, in the middle of the Dark Lord's circle. It had been nearly forty minutes since the Dark Mark had burned upon his arm, yet they'd finally made it.
There was no anger written across the ghastly monstrosity of the face belonging to the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters stood around them in the familiar circle that the Dark Lord so seemed to adore.
The red eyes of the Dark Lord raked her body, seeming to take in every detail, every nuance of her. "So this is your wife, my son?" a high, cold voice inquired.
Severus kept his eyes respectably downcast. "Yes, my Lord."
She fought the urge to laugh at that voice. Someone so monstrous, so deadly, had a voice like a pre-pubescent little girl?
When he looked at her, he saw the most angelic looking creature that he'd seen in quite… It had been a long time. He almost smiled when he saw her before him. She stood straight and met his reptilian gaze head on.
"She has spirit, my son. She does not cower before me," he hissed, fixing his beady red eyes on her.
"I am loyal to my husband. What he supports is what I support," she responded, her voice firm and…
What else was it that Voldemort heard in her voice? Was it… pride? Yes, pride. This woman appeared to be proud of whom she served.
"I would like you to enter my circle," he pressed, pulling out his blade. "I would like you to wear my mark on my arm, to be one of my children."
"I cannot."
The other Death Eaters fixed their gaze upon the woman who stood in their midst. There were gasps and whispers. Surely, she's given the wrong answer, now... She's made him angry… He'll kill her for sure… She was lovely. She was unattainable. She was also about to die.
He raised the dagger, ready to plunge it into her heart. It was, certainly, a blunt muggle way to kill, but was it not fitting to take the life of one who refused to serve with the same blade that marked those who would? Yes, he would kill her, and the little bitch deserved to die for her treachery. None had ever denied him their servitude when he asked so kindly. Not without perishing for their foolishness, anyway. "Why not, beautiful one? What causes you to speak such foolishness to one who could kill you where you stand?"
He saw something flicker in her beautiful eyes. Fear, perhaps? Would her life end now, for this? "For a reason that you would understand, sir. One cannot serve two masters. I have taken a vow to serve my husband before the Gods, until death do we part. Any service that I provide to your cause would be for my husband, whom I already serve."
He saw his son on the ground before him, his eyes closed. Was his son trying to close out his fear?
Ah, yes. That was fear from his son. Fear of losing his own life? No, not at all. This fear was selfless. This fear was based on that of losing his love. But did his son deserve the affections of such a glorious creature as this? After all, not even a veela could be this beautiful.
He turned his gaze back to the breathtakingly lovely witch who stood before him. He smiled at her… if that is what it could be called when his reptilian lips drew back. "You are a smart girl, Antonia Snape." He reached out and stroked her face, an almost loving gesture. "A beautiful woman…"
She trembled beneath his touch. Not much, not as others had done, but it was still there. But, to her credit, she did not flinch, nor did she look away. No, her gaze was as strong and steady as it had ever been. Her face stayed bland and his fingers moved down the side of her face, down her neck. His fingers strayed down to the swell of her breasts when she snatched his hand away. "I cannot allow that, sir. I took a vow to my master for no other to touch me in that manner."
He saw his son tense. Was he waiting for her to fall? It was of no concern to the Dark Lord. All that mattered, truly, was this woman before him. Oh, how she'd brought back memories… Yes, there were memories in his life of a fair one that he would have done anything for.
The master heard a snigger from behind him. Voldemort's eyes blazed with uncontrollable fury as he raised his wand and his voice was gravelly with rage as he roared, "Crucio!"
He saw her close her eyes. Was she waiting for the pain to overtake her? Did she believe that he could be so unfeeling as to direct his wrath on this beautiful creature that stood before him? Well, he could, but that was beside the point.
He could almost feel her relief when she heard the screams coming from someone behind her. She whirled around and saw a Death Eater… Wormtail, apparently, since a silver hand was twitching along with the rest of him.
He threw his head back and gave a laugh of genuine amusement. "I like her, my son. I've never had a Death Eater's wife speak to me in such a manner." His scaly hand still held hers, and he raised it to his reptilian lips. His glowing red eyes racked her form in a covetous manner.
There was something on her face that he couldn't quite discern… Was it… loathing? Did she, too, hate him for what he had become? Yes, of course she did. His own beautiful one hated him, too, at the end. He felt something at that realization… What was it? It was vaguely familiar, but it was something that he'd not felt in so very long. Of course, it had been a very long time since he'd felt anything that was not related to his ambitions.
Ah, yes. He knew what it was. It was sadness. What a shame that this woman, whom he would make his queen in a second, did not want a thing to do with him. No, she loved his son. Which meant that she loved him not.
The Dark Lord dragged his eyes away from the beauty whose hand he now clutched. "Stand proud, Severus. Stand as proud as your wife," the monstrosity encouraged. How deserving of this treasure's affections was his son?
He stood on his feet, all six feet and four inches of him standing straight and tall.
Antonia took her eyes off of the creature who held her hand and gazed at her husband. Adoration was clearly reflected in her blue eyes. A loving smile stretched across her lips as she looked up at him.
Voldemort looked upon that exchange with a sense of loss. No woman would ever gaze upon him in that manner. Not ever again. "Yes, she belongs at your side, doesn't she?" he remarked, giving her hand over to Severus. "You two will produce strong, healthy children that will follow in my footsteps. You've chosen your wife well."
I couldn't have chosen a better woman for myself… although she was every bit as pleasing to the eye and equally as disagreeable as your Antonia, he thought wistfully.
"Thank you, my Lord," he murmured.
"Take your wife home, my son. Treat her like the treasure that she is. For, if you refuse, I may very well be tempted to take her for my own."
She gave a nervous laugh and stepped closer to Severus's side.
"I will always cherish her," he promised. That was no lie, and the master knew it. The Dark Lord nodded approvingly as they disapparated.
And there it was. His own love, reincarnated, it almost seemed, was gone once more.
* * *
He kissed his wife and tucked her back into bed. The night's events had been difficult for both of them, but, fortunately, it was the weekend, so there were no classes to worry about, nor was his house playing in a Quidditch match.
When he was certain that she had fallen into a restful slumber, he left her alone in their mammoth bed.
Snape trudged up the stairs and through various secret passages, taking the quickest way to Dumbledore's office that he possibly could. After all, he was quite exhausted, and he had no desire to try to find the hallway that only led to Dumbledore's office on the fourth Saturday of the month.
"Chocolate frog," Snape said to the Gargoyle statue. The statue moved, revealing the staircase that went up to Dumbledore's office.
"Hello, Severus," Dumbledore said, not even looking up from the papers he shuffled across his desk.
"Sir," Snape responded.
He put the papers down and gave his potions master his undivided attention. "What's happened?"
"I took Antonia to the Dark Lord."
The twinkle was absent from his blue eyes. "And what did Voldemort do?"
"He adored her. He asked her to become one of his servants, and seemed amused when she turned him down. There was no anger or malice directed at her. She was just… He treated her like something special that should only be treasured."
Dumbledore sat back in his chair, pondering Snape's words. "Of course. She is just the type of woman that Voldemort has always gone for. Even her name would strike a chord with him…"
Snape was confused. "Sir?"
He smiled. "Do you think that Voldemort was always a monster? He was once a boy, you know. He was a very popular boy who became Head Boy here. The girls here would worship him, much like they worshipped Sirius Black and James Potter when they were students."
"What does that have to do with my wife?"
He sighed. "Severus, there are some things that are beyond explanation. Suffice it to say that the monster who now seeks to kill was once a boy who sought to love."
Severus left the headmaster's office, holding no clearer of an understanding of Lord Voldemort's behavior than he did before.
* * *
"You had something that you wished to share with me, my son?" a cold, high voice asked.
The man knelt before his master, his silver blond hair gleaming in the moonlight. "Yes, master… My brother Snape's wife is not one that you would wish for one of us to associate with…"
Voldemort remembered the soft flesh of the woman who'd stood before him, unflinching, only hours before. He'd love to have a better association with that woman… "Explain."
"Her children."
"The woman has offspring?"
"Halfbloods, sir."
Voldemort's eyes glowed. "She needs to die. To further sully wizard blood like that… She voluntarily slept with a muggle? That is unforgivable. And I must wonder how faithful Severus is to the cause…"
"Indeed, my Lord…"
"A man has been known to commit acts of great stupidity for a woman," the Dark Lord mused. Images of her beauty flooded his mind's eye. Yes, even he, the great Lord Voldemort, would be tempted to do foolish acts for the favor of this woman. But to allow the filthy hands of a muggle to touch her?
Voldemort snapped to attention. "You are dismissed, Lucius. I shall call you when I decide what action is to be taken upon that muggle-loving bitch."
"Yes, my Lord." Lucius disapparated with a pop.
Voldemort couldn't believe it… This beautiful, charming woman, so loyal to her master… was a muggle lover? She'd had children with a muggle? How could she?
How could she walk around with that face, that body, looking so like his Angelina? That beautiful face of hers so resembled Angelina, especially when she smiled up at Snape. Yes, he found it wholly believable that Snape could commit acts of colossal stupidity for that face. Had he, the mighty Lord Voldemort, not once found a face so fair that he would go to any such lengths to place a smile on it?
He sighed. It was truly a waste, but he would have to kill her. Yes, she would have to die.
He went down to the tomb which he called his home, left alone with his thoughts. Would Antonia die bravely, like that Potter mudblood bitch? Or would she die in terror, begging him not to kill her?
Voldemort had a feeling that the bitch was going to stand bravely and face him proudly when he killed her. Of course, he would have to eliminate her children, as well…
No matter. He would rid the world of the trash that had threatened his kind since the beginning of time, and he would be respected and feared beyond any other.
He lay himself down in his crypt, with visions of that rare and radiant maiden the angels called… not Lenore, but Angelina, whose face would smile upon him nevermore.
* * *
One week later
"You faced you-know-who? And lived?" Minerva McGonagall was astonished. She threw her arms around Antonia hastily. "He could have killed you!"
Antonia sighed. "Well, he didn't. He actually seemed… he seemed to like me. It was bizarre."
"You were lucky."
Antonia shook her head. "Luck has nothing to do with the Dark Lord. And I can't shake the feeling that it's going to come back to haunt me."
"May I ask you a question, Antonia?" she asked, slouching back on a chair in her bedchamber.
Antonia leaned forward in her chair, sipping a cup of tea. "You just did," she replied, her voice light.
"No, I'm serious."
She looked at the Transfiguration professor, pretending to be confused. "I thought Sirius was upstairs…" She snapped her fingers. "It's that damned polyjuice again, isn't it."
"Antonia, really!" Minerva scolded, her voice still maintaining its good humor. "I'd really like to ask you this…"
"Of course."
"What did you ever see in Severus?"
Antonia's face lit up. "I've loved him since I was a little girl. I loved his brilliance, his cunning, his kindness…"
Minerva choked on her tea.
"Good heavens, Minerva, are you all right?"
Professor McGonagall wiped her face with her napkin. "Yes, you just surprised me. I'd never thought I'd hear someone extolling the virtues of Severus Snape."
"What of you and Dumbledore?" Antonia teased. "Even when I was a student here, I always thought there was more than a professional relationship between the two of you…"
"That's neither here nor their," Minerva said evasively, slightly reddening.
Antonia laughed at the apparent discomfort of her colleague… and friend?
Yes, friend. Minerva McGonagall had become quite a good friend to Antonia over the past couple of weeks. And Antonia knew intuitively that Minerva's friendship was genuine.
That was quite an interesting thing to Antonia, who'd never really had a real friend. She was surprised to realize that she… well, she rather liked it.
"Thank you," Antonia said quietly, looking deep into McGonagall's eyes.
"Whatever for?" she replied, confused.
"For being my friend."
* * *
Severus knocked on the door. He didn't want to do this. He loathed this person. This person wasn't fit to walk the earth, whether in human or dog form. The man was disgusting and despicable.
This was a mistake. He turned and started to walk away when he heard the door open.
"Snape," a voice growled.
He turned and faced the man in the doorway. "Black. I have something that I need to discuss with you."
"What do you want?" he demanded.
Snape looked around. The hall was empty, but, really, one never knew… That damned Potter boy was always skulking around where he wasn't wanted in that cursed invisibility cloak. "Perhaps we could discuss this in a place where we will not be seen?"
"Fine. Come in."
Snape followed Black in his bedchamber and watched him close the door.
"Talk," Black commanded.
"You seem to be rather fond of my wife…"
Black cut him off. "You come to my room for this? You know that I care for Antonia. She's a beautiful, special woman who could do much better than the likes of you."
"I didn't come here to go over how terrible I am for Antonia," Snape responded with a sharp voice, letting his irritation show. This wasn't how he had intended for things to go at all. "I don't deserve her. I know this. But I love her, and she loves me. I can't ask for anything more, because I deserve far less."
"Then what do you want?" Black was growing annoyed. This tall, greasy git was standing in his sanctuary. And he didn't like it.
"I need you to take care of her."
"What are you talking about, Snape? That was about as clear as mud."
Snape looked away, so that Black could not see the pained expression on his face. "Voldemort made me take her too him."
"WHAT?!" Black roared. "How could you be so fucking stupid?!"
"It's custom," he responded testily. "Actually, I broke custom. I married Antonia without the Dark Lord's approval. So, I had to take her to see him to gain his dubious favor."
"Lovely. Abso-fucking-lutely lovely," Black remarked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"He went mad over her. He thinks that she's delightful. And she impressed the Hell out of him."
"So, what's the problem?"
"Malfoy."
Black pulled out a pack of Dunhill cigarettes and lit one. "Nasty habit. I thought I gave it up in Azkaban, but lately, it's been incredibly appealing with all of the nonsense going on."
Severus looked at Black like he was mad. They were both marked men, each in his own way. Why Black would deliberately kill himself with something else was beyond him. Unless, of course, he knew that he was not going to be around long enough for the tobacco to kill him.
"Sit down, Snape. I have a feeling that this is going to take a while."
Snape sat down on an antique red velvet couch. That couch had probably been here since the days when Dippet was the headmaster.
"Well, talk," Black pushed. "What does Malfoy have to do with this mess?"
"Lucius had an… interlude… with Antonia about ten years ago in Paris. After seeing her here, he threatened her. He knows about Antonia's children. He'll tell Voldemort…"
"Thus removing Antonia from his favor," Black murmured, flicking his cigarette in an old cauldron that had become his ashtray.
"Precisely."
"I'll kill him," Black replied, his voice calm, but his eyes dark with rage. "I'll go to Malfoy Manor, I'll find him, and I'll kill him."
"A particularly charming thought," Severus agreed. "I've already considered that. It won't do any good. By now, that bastard has told the Dark Lord about her."
"Fuck."
"My sentiments, exactly."
Black stood up, pacing before the wooden bench he'd been seated on. "I don't like you. That much hasn't changed. But I have a soft spot for your wife…"
Snape narrowed his eyes. You certainly have a "spot" for my wife, but I doubt if it's soft, he thought.
"…and I don't want to see her hurt. We'll have to stay by her side. If you go to see Voldemort, I need to know. I'll stay by her like glue while you're gone. The last thing that we need is for her to go out to the lake with her fairies and get dragged off by twenty men in Death Eater hoods."
"She can't leave the grounds. We have a better chance of protecting her here than anywhere else."
Sirius nodded. "Do you honestly think she's going to politely allow us to be on her heels at all times, trailing after her like two lost puppies."
"You resemble that puppy remark far better than I…"
"Watch it, Snape."
"You're right, though. She'll throw a fit. She insists that she can take care of herself, and she'll insist that there is no danger to her from the Dark Lord."
"There's a fine line between bravery and stupidity. Sometimes Antonia tends to cross that line."
"This is my wife that we are discussing…"
"Come off it, Snape. We both know that she doesn't always think things out as she should…"
He was silent. It was too true, and they both knew it. After all, if Antonia actually thought before she'd act, then she wouldn't have gotten trashed a few weeks ago, nor would she have gotten drunk in Paris and fallen into bed with that scum Malfoy.
Sirius noticed that there was no come back. "You really do trust her, don't you?"
Snape nodded. "If she wanted to leave me for someone else, all the time that I could spend trying to keep temptation away from her wouldn't do me a bit of good. She's with me because she wants to be. That's all the assurance that I should need."
"'Bout damned time you figured it out."
"But you'll help protect her?"
"I'll die for her, if necessary," Black promised.
The potions master nodded somberly. "That's all that I could ask of you."
"Have you told Dumbledore about this?"
"No. He can't protect her. She can't know about it, because she'll do something stupid, like go off after Malfoy, and Dumbledore can't follow her around constantly," Snape replied.
Black lit another cigarette. He realized that, if he wasn't careful, he was going to revert back to his old, chain-smoking self on the back of a flying motorcycle. "She doesn't honestly think she can take Malfoy, does she?"
Snape smiled. "The Ministry of Magic seems to think she can. They almost made her an Auror."
"Almost?"
"She married me. It would be rather difficult for an Auror with license to use the Killing Curse to be married to a Death Eater," he reminded.
"Oh, yeah. That," Black answered, his voice heavy with irony.