A/N: None of it's mine. Antonia, now departed, belongs to me, all other elements of the fic belong to JKR, WB, and Scholastic Publishing Co.
The title of this chapter comes from a scene in Cymbeline, one of my favorite plays by the late, great William Shakespeare.
If you need a little lighter reading after this fic, I recommend w&m_law's work. You'll find her in my reviews; just click on her, and it will take you to her profile. (It will help you get there faster if you review this chapter… hint!hint!)
Snape's Girl, w&m_law, and Candace: Welcome to reality. It can be cold and bitter, but it's there, whether we want it to be different or not. All good things must come to an end.
Tempesta: I love you, too, babe, and I would have quit writing this a long time ago, if not for your encouragement (re: bullying, pushing, and nagging). huggles
PotterLovingAsh: Nope, not forevermore finished. There's still a bit more. Then, of course, there will eventually be fics that explain how we got to this miserable point.
Gryffindor: If you won't enjoy it, then what's the point? ; )
Amanita Lestrange: Nope, no hope at all. Thanks so much for all of the comments that you've given me throughout the story. All of them have been carefully saved and considered for the revision.
Tessie: Nope, 'fraid not.
Whitebears: Damn, I'm flattered.
Lindsay Beth: Just wait. It will come.
Rushumble: Many thanks.
*Luna: I'm working on it. I don't have an exact date, simply because real life tends to interfere with online deadlines.
Sling the Newsie & Ginger Donahue: I assure you, it wasn't easy. I've known that this was coming for the last 20 chapters.
§phinx: No, it's not, and yes, she is.
Fiona: That was the point… That so many people had that response means that I did it, and I did it right. As for the rest of your review, no, no, and absolutely not.
Snowbear, Bob spelled backwards, Maeve, Cauis Julius and Katie Weasley: Nope.
The imposer: I promise, I didn't enjoy it.
Now, on with our featured presentation…
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He awoke the next day in his own bed, the bed that he'd shared with Antonia. She was no longer beside him, curled up against him, her thigh so enticingly draped over his hip. Severus was almost convinced that he'd simply had a horrid nightmare, and reached out to find her to reassure himself. Alas, his searching fingertips only felt the coolness of the sheets.
A moment of panic flooded him before he felt it… There was the nausea in the pit of his stomach, the heat rushing up his spine, and the dull ache in his head. He felt it long before the feeling became a thought of awareness.
And then he remembered it. She was gone. He pulled her pillow against him and inhaled deeply. She really was real; she did exist. He could smell her on the pillow, the sweet peachy scent of her perfume washed over his senses. He could remember how she used to sit in bed and grade papers, or how she used to let the fairies brush her hair…
Startled, he looked around. They were gone, too.
"Did you sleep well?" a voice asked, calm and reassuring. Severus blinked once, twice, and saw Albus Dumbledore.
"Did you stay here all night?" he asked numbly.
"Yes, but not to worry, the chair was really quite comfortable."
"It's real, isn't it. This isn't some nightmare that I'll wake up from," Severus sighed. He thought he might cry again, but this time, his eyes were too dried out from crying the night before.
"I'm sorry, Severus," the old wizard replied, gazing at the fire. For the first time since Severus had ever seen the headmaster, Dumbledore looked his age.
"Did they torture her?" the potions master asked, his voice a hesitant whisper.
"No," he answered firmly. "Antonia was never tortured. All that blood that you found on her belonged to someone else."
Severus looked around the room. Everywhere he looked, something sparked a memory of her. It was as if the entire chamber soundlessly cried out Antonia! The pram was parked in a corner, filled to the brim with blankets and clothes.
All of these delightful little remnants of the life that he'd never have were scattered throughout. There would be no child in the cradle, nor would there be the sound of his wife's laughter. This room would be empty, housing no more than himself… and his memories.
"Sir, I need to be alone… I'll be a bit late for my classes…" Severus began.
Dumbledore cut him off. "No need. All classes have been cancelled until her memorial service." At that, the ancient wizard rose to his feet and left the dungeon chamber.
Severus sat in silence for a moment, waiting for Dumbledore to be far enough away…
Enraged, the potions master leaped to his feet and threw the pram across the room, scattering its contents on the stone floor. The pram crashed into a wall, knocking a vase off the shelf. The vase shattered to the floor.
That was a vase that Antonia's fae always kept full with fresh flowers… It now lay on the floor, broken porcelain and wildflowers littering the cold stone.
Broken. Just like his life. Everything was lying around him, in tattered ruins. Nothing was left.
Severus picked up one of the infant sized Chudley Canon shirts and hurled it into the fire. The tiny piece of fabric erupted into flames. In seconds, it was unrecognizable. One would have never guessed that fire-eaten rag to once be intended for the son of Severus Snape. In minutes, the garment was gone.
"Gone! Fucking nothing left!" he screamed, flinging a sparkling silver rattle. It hit the bookshelf and landed with a metallic tinkle. A heavier, older tome followed it to the floor, landing with a more solid thud.
Antonia's tattered leather volume lay on the floor, slightly open.
Severus stared at the book in silence. Shakespeare's sonnets…
Hesitantly, Severus approached the book. He peered at the book, not sure what would come out of it. Of course, it was an old muggle volume, but who knew what kind of charms his dearly departed wife had placed upon it?
There was one sonnet in there that she loved to read to him… What was it? He sought the little detail, going into the tiny, forgotten crevices of his mind that held the little things that seemed so very inconsequential at the time… Ah, yes. Sonnet number fifty-five was the one that she said was for them.
The wizard slowly reached for the book.
With trembling hands, Severus turned to that page.
Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes, shall
outlive this powerful rime;
But you shall shine more bright
in these contents
Than unswept
stone, besmear'd with sluttish time.
When wasteful war
shall statues overturn,
And broils root
out the work of masonry,
Nor Mars his sword
nor war's quick fire shall burn
The living record
of your memory.
'Gainst death and
all-obvious enmity
Shall you pace
forth; your praise shall still find room
Even in the eyes
of all posterity
That wear this
world out to the ending doom.
So, till the
judgment that yourself arise,
You live in this,
and dwell in lovers' eyes.
You do shine brightly, my Antonia, he thought miserably. "And you'll always dwell in lover's eyes," he said softly, his throat tight with unshed tears.
Severus turned the pages, seeking out his own favorite sonnet. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" he murmured, a fat tear drop landing on a yellowed page, "Thou art more lovely and more temperate…"
It was then that he found a piece of parchment, folded so very carefully and tucked within the crevice of the book.
My dearest Severus,
If you are reading this letter, then that means that I am probably dead. After all, I know that nothing else on this earth could inspire you to look through my Shakespearean love sonnets.
There's so much that I wanted to say to you towards the end, but I knew that I could never tell you. To tell you would weaken you at a time that you needed all the strength that you could muster.
I knew that Lord Voldemort wanted me dead. I heard you talking in your sleep. You were plotting out ways to keep him from killing me. I knew why you didn't want me to leave the castle unattended, not even to go out on the grounds. That you were willing to allow Sirius to be my companion when you were unable to do so speaks volumes. I no longer doubted that you trusted me.
I did something to protect myself from torture at their hands. I never told you this, nor did I tell Dumbledore or the children. I began carrying a small vial of a poison that I brewed with me, just in case they captured me. I knew that they would want to torture me. I knew that Lucius would first make sure he got to bed me first, whether I was willing or not. And I wasn't about to let that monster touch me. Not when the only one that I wanted was you.
I hope that you can take comfort in knowing that I died on my own terms. They didn't get to torture me. Most importantly, they didn't get the opportunity to force you to torture me. That was my deepest fear. I knew that they would question your loyalty to the cause as soon as I came into play. And I knew that they would force you to torture me to prove yourself to them, or they'd kill us both. They would brand you a traitor, and give you a much greater torture than they would ever give me.
And being forced to kill me, I know, is something that you would not be able to take. I've always told you that I would die for you. I meant it.
I'm not afraid to die. I know that the one that I've been in love with since I was a child has loved me in return. That, and watching my beautiful children grow up, made it all worth it. Perhaps I've done all that I was meant to do in this life. I do have one regret about this whole thing. I'm so sorry that I never got to carry your child to term. I really did want our baby, Severus. I wanted it so much. Unfortunately, the Fates decided that it wasn't to be.
I love you. Please take care of Matthew and Jonathon. Now that I'm gone, they really have no one else.
I don't want you to fall back into that pit of despair that you were in after Lily's death. There was nothing that you could have done to save me. Had you tried, they would have killed us both. Then who would be there to take care of my sons?
You've paid whatever penance you thought you should have to suffer because of Lily Evans' death. You have no such penance to pay for mine. You loved me. That was a far greater gift than any punishment you inflict upon yourself could ever be.
I know that you'll miss me. You'll miss my nagging, my complaining, my hypersensitivity, and, of course, my horrible temper. And, of course, there's nothing like waking up on a Sunday morning with your wife beside you, having fallen asleep after making love.
But it will fade. There will be days when you miss me less. You'll get used to life without me. You'll realize that there actually is life without me. Please remember this, though, my love: you are worth it. You're worth the world to me. And anyone who says otherwise is wrong. Including yourself.
I love you, and I'll be waiting for you on the other side… but don't join me too soon.
Always yours,
Antonia
Severus collapsed on the floor and
sobbed. She was dead, and she knew she
was going to die. And she'd died
because of him. It was his fault. All that he'd wanted was to protect her, to
keep the monsters at bay, and he couldn't do that. Perhaps because he was one of the monsters.
The black dog trotted through the
castle down to the dungeons. The hound
loped through the halls and pushed the door open with his nose. Unlike most dogs, this one saw in three dimension,
and he couldn't believe what was before his eyes.
The potions master sat on the cold
stone floor, a tattered volume before him. In one pale hand was a piece of parchment. The man's face was hidden away, buried in the crook of his elbow
and covered by the folds in his robe. The other hand lay buried in limp, greasy hair, curled up into a tight
fist. Agonized little sputters and
bitter coughs could be heard from his throat.
The dog turned back into a tall and
muscular man. Sirius sighed
regretfully. "I'm sorry, Snape. For what it's worth, I loved her, too."
Severus looked up at his former
rival. "It's ironic, isn't it? All this time chasing after the same girl,
and it was beginning to look like I'd win." He laughed without mirth. "The
joke's on me, isn't it? Not only did I
lose, but I had everything that I ever wanted at my fingertips." Severus pulled himself off the floor and
glared at his unexpected visitor. "What
the Hell do you want, anyway?"
"I was looking for Dumbledore."
Severus looked around. "Well, as you can see, he's not here. I'm not in the mood for visitors,
particularly one who happens to be an escaped convict in danger of having his
soul sucked out," he snarled.
"I miss Antonia, too, Snape. I loved her. I really did."
The potions master sneered. "What do you know about love? You 'love' someone different every week."
Black shook his head. "No, that's not true. I've loved Antonia since we sat down
together at the lake. And I did
everything that I could to make her happy, to let her know that I loved
her. I wanted her to love me, too, but
all that she would say was how happy she was with you." Black perused the potions master, from the
top of his greasy black hair to the tips of his black work boots. "I still don't understand what she ever saw
in you…"
"I wish she had left me to be
with you, Black. At least she'd still
be alive. It would be enough for me to
be able to just look at her and hear her voice, even if she was with someone
else." I killed her, you know… I deserve the Dementor's Kiss. If not for me, she'd never have made a
poison for herself. She'd be happy with
someone else. She'd still be alive.
Black frowned and shook his
head. "She'd never have seen it that
way. She would have, in fact, told us
both to bugger off if we'd even suggested such a thing."
"Probably," Snape replied sullenly.
"I have just one thing to ask…"
Snape glared.
"The blue silk robes… She did like them, didn't she?"
Snape nodded sadly. "She really did seem to like it…"
"Would it be okay if she were… If you… She never got to wear them…"
Severus cut him off. "If she was buried in them?" he said
bluntly. Snape flinched at his own
frankness. I think it might be…
appropriate… I'll let Minerva
know. She and Poppy Pomfrey have
handled the arrangements…"
"I understand. Really, though, I am sorry to see this happen…"
Snape silenced him with a glare. "I know. Everyone's sorry. Not that it does any good."
Sirius sighed. "I guess not. I'm going to check in Dumbledore's office."
"You do that," Snape replied. He lay back in their bed, isolating himself from the rest of the world's well meaning, but utterly useless sympathies.
* * *
He was a broken man. He sat in the front row, listening to them speak. They extolled the virtues of his wife, speaking of her beauty, her talent, her bravery. It was all meaningless to him. She was gone.
Dumbledore stood up to speak. "Something that not many of us knew about Antonia was her love of Shakespeare. This passage from Cymbeline is so very appropriate…"
He began to read.
"Fear no more the heat o' th' sun
Nor the furious
winter's rages;
Though thy worldly
task hast done,
Home art gone and
ta'en thy wages.
Golden lads and
girls all must,
As
chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
"Fear no more the
frown o' th' great;
Thou art past the
tyrant's stroke.
Care no more to
clothe and eat;
To thee the reed
is as the oak.
The scepter,
learning, physic, must
All follow this
and come to dust.
"Fear no more the
lightning flash,
Nor th'
all-dreaded thunderstone;
Fear no slander,
censure rash;
Thou hast finished
joy and moan.
All lovers young,
all lovers must
Consign to thee
and come to dust.
"No exorciser harm
thee,
Nor no witchcraft
charm thee.
Ghost unlaid
forbear thee;
Nothing ill come
near thee.
Quiet consummation
have,
And renowned be thy grave."
Dumbledore spoke his own words, rather than the hallowed words of the great playwright once more. "She died for what she believed in, and she died a hero's death…"
Severus remained silent, his shoulders shaking with barely repressed sobs.
Even Ron and Harry, accompanied by the Weasley family, felt sorry for the potions master.
Jonathon and Matthew Carter sat on either side of Snape, looking as bereaved as he did. Harry never realized, until now, that those two boys in Ravenclaw were hers.
Dumbledore stepped down from the podium, and motioned for Severus to speak his peace. After all, Severus loved her. He would grieve for her in a way that none could understand. Perhaps her boys would come close to understanding his pain, but their pain would be vastly different from his own. There's no comparison to the loss of a lover and soul mate to that of a mother.
Minerva took Severus by the arm and guided him up to the space by Antonia's casket. "Severus," she said gently, "You need to speak."
He stood by her casket, and looked at her face. So still, so cold. She was, if it were possible, more beautiful in the embrace of death than she'd ever been in life.
"There isn't much that I can say," he began hollowly. "I love her, and she loved me. I don't know how I was so lucky, because I certainly didn't deserve her. And now? I…" He cast one more bereft look at the casket and sank down on his knees beside it. He took her cold hand in his warm one.
For Severus, everyone in the room ceased to exist. He was with her, and that was all that mattered… "You were my best friend, Antonia. No, you were my only friend. Why did you do it? I could have saved us both. I know I could…"
Hot, salty tears fell from his face, marring the perfection of the blue silk robes that Sirius had given her so many months ago. Gods, she looked so much like an angel… He didn't want her to be an angel. He wanted her to be here, still alive, laughing and smiling or calling him an asshole. He didn't care what. He just wanted her to be with him.
He choked on a sob when he realized what he would never again have, and what he would never experience. He'd never get to see her belly grow round with their child. Nor would he get to watch their child being born, or teach that child… it would be a little boy… how to brew his first potion, or how to… Well, how to do anything.
His entire life had just been taken from him, and all his hopes and dreams had gone with it. There was nothing left. He was just… a shell. An empty, broken shell of the man that he used to be.
"My Antonia," he whispered in her ear, brushing his lips against her face. Her skin was no longer soft and silken. No, now it was cold and unyielding, more like a mask, rather than the sweet countenance that had smiled upon him just days ago.
The others began to file out of the chapel, leaving Severus almost alone with his wife… Almost.
Minerva walked up beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Severus, you can have a few more minutes with her, but you really do need to let her go."
"I'm not leaving her again. It's because I left her in the first place that we are here," Severus replied, his voice icy.
"Severus, please…" Minerva had hoped that she would be able to coax him into letting them take Antonia to the burial plot on the edge of Hogwarts grounds.
"No. I will not leave her."
"Matthew and Jonathon need you, Severus. You're the only parental figure that they have left. Can't you at least think of them?"
He glared at her, an icy sneer etched across his face. "I prefer to wallow in my own selfish grief, thank you."
Minerva found herself filled with
sympathy for Severus Snape. Now who
would love the potions master? She
shook her head and dragged herself out of her reverie. "Severus, you can't sit here with her
forever. It won't bring her back.
"Don't you understand?" Snape
screamed. "I don't care about
the fucking cause anymore! I don't give
a damn if the Dark Lord kills every fucking wizard in England! Antonia is dead! And it's because of me! I
killed my wife!"
"If you want to see Antonia die for
nothing, then, fine. Be inactive. Sit there and cry. Let the bastards who killed her take over. Let them kill her halfblood sons," she
responded coldly. "Or, you can make her
life and death mean something, and you can do your best to bring him down."
"Just get the Hell out. I need to be alone," he snarled, his pale
face twisting into a mask of grief and hatred.
McGonagall stood her ground, trying
to think of something to say. He was
just so shattered… There had to be some
comfort that she could offer this man.
"Perhaps you didn't hear me… I said get out!" Severus glared at her, a loathing sneer
etched across his face.
Minerva sighed. "I'll go, but the solitude won't make you
hurt any less." At that, the
transfiguration professor walked out of the funeral hall, giving Severus the
miserable isolation that he'd demanded.