Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the plot and the OCs. Everything else belongs to JKR and the legal licensees of Harry Potter material.
Contract Binding: Chapter Two
by RowanRhys
The breakfast Owl Post brought a confirmation that Snape's appointment with the solicitor was at 1:00 p.m. and he tucked the note into his pocket.
Albus Dumbledore, working his way through eggs and sausage, tilted his head in silent query, his eyes bright behind the half-moon spectacles that he wore.
"He wants to see me this afternoon, and he said the business might take part of tomorrow as well," Severus told him quietly, glaring at a Gryffindor Third year who was using his food as a toy rather than as sustenance.
"Don't worry about your classes. I'll be sure they're covered," said the Headmaster.
"I've left lesson plans for each class on the desk. Theory work rather than practical. I would prefer to come back to find I still have a classroom, as, even after four full years, I do not trust Longbottom not to make a hash of even the simplest potion." Severus pushed his teacup aside. "I'll Apparate to the Leaky Cauldron from Hogsmeade."
The class warning bell rang and the last of the students at the House tables scrambled to finish their meals and to get to class. The Potions Master stood as well.
"Have a good trip, Severus," Dumbledore said. "You'll return to find all is well here, I'm sure."
Snape twisted his lip into a mild sneer, out of habit, and trailed the final departing students into the stairhall. He waited by the main doors until they were out of sight and the many-storied hall was quiet once more. Then, before he could do more than open his mouth, a house elf with curly red-brown hair popped into existence next to him, burdened with a valise.
"Here is Professor Snape's things. We is hoping you return safely!"
He took the piece of luggage from her, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly. It was as close to a smile as he was likely to get. Curly had aggravated him to no end when she'd first attached herself to his chambers and his service five years before. He'd given up on learning why she--among all of the House Elves that kept Hogwarts in order--had decided that he needed dedicated care, and just accepted her service with resignation. "Thank you." As he strode down toward the gates that lead to the Hogsmeade Road, he knew that if he looked back, he'd see the creature, neatly garbed in a clean teatowel embroidered with the Hogwarts seal, waving a farewell. But since looking back would be out of character, the dour Potionsmaster just kept his eyes on the chimney smoke that marked the town in the early morning frost.
* * * * *
"No! It's totally out of the question!" Marian thrust the parchment of the Will back at the solicitor and jumped to her feet. "I don't care that I'm his only living direct heir, I will not be forced to marry in order to receive my Grandfather's fortune!"
"If you do not agree to the terms of the Will--all of the terms, not just this first one--then the co-heir cannot inherit either," protested Markham-Peters.
"My Grandfather tried to run my life ever since my parents died in my Seventh year at Hogwarts. He disapproved of my choice of career and has pestered me unmercifully about it for the last eighteen years. I refuse to allow him to force me from a job--a vocation!--I love, now that he's dead! You know perfectly well that I can't continue with my work if I marry--assuming I ever meet a man I wanted to!"
"Lady Marian--" He shook his head as she glared at him. "The title is yours irregardless of what you choose to do with the money. Lady Marian, the fortune is enough that you would never need to work again. You could have a life of leisure and travel--"
"I don't want a life of leisure. I love what I'm doing, it's my very life! And that controlling old man is not going to take it away from me!" She whirled and yanked the door to the outer office open, rushing past the clerk at the reception desk and out into the first floor hallway, slamming the door shut behind her. She took the stairs at a fast pace, furious at the old wizard and his posthumous manipulations of her life.
Her rage all but blinded her in her headlong rush down the dogleg stair that led to the Diagon Alley entrance to the firm. As she reached the landing at the turn of the stairway, she slammed hard into a tall, black-clad figure that was hurrying up the steps.
Strong, long-fingered hands grasped her by the upper arms and her white robes swirled about his dark ones as he swung them into a quick pirouette on the landing in an attempt to keep the pair of them from falling down the lower flight.
Marian gasped as the adrenaline rush faded, finding her fingers clenched tightly into the midnight fabric that covered his chest, and her body pressed up against a hard, obviously male, frame--the closest she'd been to a man since she'd determined in her teens that she wanted to work with unicorns. Already flushed from her anger, and the abrupt fear that they'd topple down the stairs, her face got even redder as she realized her position.
"I suggest that you watch where you are going and proceed at a less precipitous rate before you cause an accident." The voice was harsh and sneering, as his hands lifted her away from his person.
Without looking up at the man's face, she broke free of his steadying grasp with a muttered apology and pushed past, hurrying down the stairs in a flutter of white silk, and out the door which slammed shut behind her. Marian stumbled to a halt half a block away, to find herself in front of Ollivander's. She stared at the window of the wand shop and caught her breath. She had been about to head down to the end of the Alley to the Leaky Cauldron to Floo home, but something impelled her to enter the dusty old shop.
* * * * *
Snape found the door labeled Markham-Peters, Roberson and Deluge, General Solicitors and knocked. A clerk admitted him and asked him to take a seat for a moment while she ensured that Mr. Markham-Peters was ready to speak with him.
He refused an offer of tea and sat silently, brooding about this unexpected event in his life. He didn't have long to wait before the stout-figured Markham-Peters was inviting him to enter the inner office.
"Professor Snape!" The solicitor had a surprisingly firm handshake for a wizard who appeared to have spent little time doing anything but sedentary work. "I'm so pleased to meet you face to face at last."
Snape nodded and took the seat offered to him, habitually arranging his robes and posture to a position of intimidation and dignity. The effect was not lost on the solictor, who sat down behind the parchment-strewn desk, eyeing the Potionsmaster a bit warily.
"I had expected to be able to introduce you to the co-heir of the estate, Professor," he said apologetically. "But she was, er, rather upset by the principle condition of receiving the inheritance." Markham-Peters seemed embarrassed by the situation.
"Rather upset?" Snape raised an eyebrow in query. In a flash of insight, he realized that the woman who had almost knocked him down the stairs was the co-heir. "Perhaps, you will enlighten me?"
Markham-Peters handed across a thick sheaf of parchment, which turned out to be the will. "The first three pages outline the basics of the situation, sir. The remainder goes into more detail on the hows and wherefores of it, but you'll understand the requirements rather quickly."
Snape's brows drew together into a frown as he read the legalese that was traditional in a Last Will and Testament.
To my sole remaining direct heir, Marian Carlyle-Tintagel, and to the last scion of the cadet line of the Carlyles, Severus Snape, I bequeath the entirety of my estate save for specific bequests as listed herein, upon the condition that they wed and join the family lines, and, furthermore, protect the bloodline by bearing an heir within two years of their marriage.
His fingers crushed the parchment slightly as he stared at the words in shock. Marriage? A child? He forced his hands to relax on the papers and continued reading.
Abruptly, his head shot up to glare at the solicitor. "AVERY NOTT is the contingency heir?" His voice was a growl of rage and horror. Damn that old man for his manipulations! Nott will turn everything over to Voldemort to get back into the fold again!
"I assure you, Professor, I did try to dissuade Andrew from doing so, but he was absolutely insistent." Markham-Peters shuffled the other papers on his desk nervously.
"You said that Miss Carlyle-Tintagel has rejected the conditions?"
"Well, she didn't get past the word marriage--she, er--feels very strongly about that. She's Senior Maiden at the Forest of Dean Unicorn Reserve," he explained.
Severus forced down his anger at Lord Andrew's posthumous plot and tried to think clearly about the situation. After a few minutes of silent, intense thought, he looked up from the Will to the balding solicitor. "She's not been fully informed about the contents of the Will then. Therefore, she cannot reject what she has no information about. Mr. Markham-Peters, I will ensure that Miss Carlyle-Tintagel joins me here tomorrow at your convenience to sort this out. I would prefer that you not contact William Nott about his position as contingency heir at this point--not until after I have had the chance to discuss the issue with Miss Carlyle-Tintagel." He rose to his feet, looming over the desk as he handed the document back to the solicitor.
"Well, I suppose I could wait a few days, although I truly doubt that the esteemed lady will change her mind."
Snape almost asked "Why not?" then remembered the anger in the woman's face as she'd barreled into him. She'd been mortified to find herself in his accidental embrace too, he recalled with a mental sneer. Of course, being a Maiden would explain that. He'd have to find her and get her to at least listen to him long enough to convince her to hear all of the facts and ramifications of her refusal.
TBC