Chapter 8 – To Hell in a Hand Basket
It all belongs to Rowling, except what you don't recognize.
Ginny thought that Hermione's restorative was quite miraculous indeed. When she arrived at Sir Lucius' flat she found him awake and in a foul mood. Yet, she wasn't afraid anymore. All she had to do was think 'cuke' and she felt like smiling. Amazingly, her good mood seemed to infect Sir Lucius.
"Well, what do you have to say for yourself, girl," he drawled.
"Lord Snape is still out of the
country and Lady Snape is still in high dungeon with him. Even though Napoleon has lost the war, I am
sure you shall have your revenge on the traitor when his wife spits on him and
he discovers he has forfeited her love forever." The lies came easily, having
been well practiced with Hermione's help.
Sir Lucius rubbed his hands together. "Oh, excellent, most excellent." He came close to her and stroked her fiery red hair. "I should very much like to show my appreciation," his voice mellowed and Ginny felt a tightening in her stomach. Ginny couldn't believe that she had once thought she loved him. And even now, though she was quite certain she despised him, he still affected her. Ginny thought about her need to avenge herself on him for destroying her life. And the thought gave her the courage to play the role she needed to perform and do it well. Thinking about Harry, she put her arms up around the blonde's neck and pressed her lips against his. He responded ravenously, bruising her lips and thrusting his tongue between them.
Happy to believe that the wench had finally come around, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to their bed.
He was actually somewhat gentler this time than he'd been in months, and Ginny, determined to have his complete trust, allowed herself to respond in ways that she'd not ever done before. She caressed his muscular back and murmured softly in his ear. In her mind's eye, she saw Harry's black tousled hair and his kind, sweet smile. Rather than the vulgar language coming from Sir Lucius' mouth, her imagination presented her with Harry's gentle words of friendship and assurance. Suddenly her body began pulsing, and it was only with utmost control did she manage not to scream out Harry's name as her orgasm exploded forth. Sir Lucius grunted in surprise that his young victim should have become so aroused and, believing it due to his talent, started to thrust wildly and immediately sped himself into his own climax.
Sir Lucius kissed her softly once before falling asleep and Ginny lay awake thinking how amazing it was to cuckold a man through imagination alone. She felt closer to Harry than she ever had and prayed that one day they could be together.
It took Ginny several evenings of clandestine reading to find the information which would send Lucius to gaol. It was in a very old diary where he confessed to having, under the orders of Voldemort, killed a young married couple. If proven, he would most certainly hang. Ginny also stole some very official looking letters in French. She hoped that these would serve as proof that he was a traitor to the British Empire. She hid the materials carefully, and went to bed. Lucius almost always caroused until dawn, especially now that the war was over and there was little to occupy him except to drown his sorrows at Whites over Napoleon's loss of the war. Ginny went to bed, happily aware that he would come home too drunk too even think about sex, and that by the time he awoke she would be long gone.
&&&
"Well, pull harder!" Snape leaned back and held onto the headboard of the bed.
"How long have you kept these on for?" Potter was trying to pull off Snape's boots and having no luck at all.
"I've been traveling non-stop since Paris fell. Try again, or maybe we can get Hagrid to help," he groaned as Potter again tried to remove the boot.
"I tell you what. I'll get a knife from him and cut them off," said Potter with gritted teeth. He changed position so that the boot was between his legs and he was facing away from Snape.
"These are top of the line, fine leather boots." Snape growled. "There will be no talk of destroying these excellent boots."
"Oh, I wasn't talking about the boots, your lordship. I figured we could take a sharp ax and hack through your legs just above the boot top. If we use lots of rags we wouldn't get a drop of blood on 'em." Potter delivered it all in perfect deadpan.
Snape glared. "And what is that chicken doing up here?"
Potter turned around and indeed there was a large red hen walking about the hallway. "I don't know your lordship. I suppose when the workman broke the window downstairs they must have come in through the hole. But we repaired it with paper just this morning." Potter was unsure if he was to continue working on the boot or to go chase the fowl. Just then Hagrid showed up.
"Ah, there yeh are Penelope. Well come along then." He gently stooped down and picked up the bird. He looked up at Snape and Potter. "Oh, by the way, I just let in seven people come ter see you. Pretty peculiar, if yeh ask me, they all got red hair. One of 'em said something about beating you up fer a gel yeh disgraced. Aye told 'em they could wait in the sittin' room." Hagrid began to leave and then stopped. "Do yeh wan' me to stick around? Aye don't think they will dare plant a facer on yeh if I show 'em the better side of m' cleaver." Hagrid stomped down the hall, off to retrieve his favorite knife.
Snape turned white with anger. "Potter, do you know anything about this? And where is everyone?" He snarled, "I haven't seen Peeves or Winky. And why are the beds unmade? Why do we even have chickens, anyway? And what workmen broke our windows? And where is Lady Snape?"
Potter looked like he would have liked to follow Hagrid, or at least jumped out the window. However, he took a deep breath and begun. "Well, you did leave with very little notice and left no instructions at all. Lady Snape was in charge and I'm sure once she returns from the theatre tonight she will be glad to give you a full accounting." He began to leave.
"Stop right there, Potter! If you think you can escape this," Snape stood up and came nose to nose with him, "you are dreaming. You shall not leave my side until everything, and I do mean everything, is explained to my satisfaction. Now, follow me while I meet with these people downstairs."
As Snape entered the room, several things happened at once. A brash young, red-haired man about Potter's age yelling, "Here's the blighter", rushed him. Potter very quickly put his body between said young man and Snape, much to Snape's relief. An older gentleman, about fifty, started crying, "where's my lil' princess? What have you done with Ginny?" Hagrid showed up with a bloody cleaver and another young man screamed, "Watch out for that giant, he'll kill us all." Two other red-haired men, twins by their appearance, began to laugh like a pair of hyenas. All in all-- Bedlam, under a full moon, had more decorum.
Snape sincerely regretted leaving the various fetes of Paris. A throbbing began in his head and he pinched his upper nose.
"Everyone, please stop this instant. I have no idea to whom you are referring. Can just one speak at a time and explain this intrusion?" Shape was yelling at the top of his voice over the cacophony of red-haired men.
The eldest man came forward and the others stepped back allowing him some room. "The name's Weasley, Squire of the Burrow. These boys are all my sons. A blackguard stole our little Ginny, she's our youngest and the only girl," tears sprung to his eyes but he managed to continue, "and we've been searching high and low for her." One of the sons brought out a handkerchief and gave it to him, whereupon he blew his nose long and hard. "Thank you, Percy."
The other Weasleys all started talking amongst themselves.
"SILENCE," Snape was beside himself. "There is no such personage here, now please all of you leave."
"Begging your Lordship's pardon," Potter quietly spoke up, "but much has happened since you left town."
Snape spun and stared at the young man. "You know of this Miss Weasley?" he said softly.
"Yes, I do," said Potter rather bravely since again a general melee erupted, this time with him as the focal point.
Snape's left eye began to twitch. "Will everyone kindly have the goodness to SHUT YOUR GOBS?"
A shocked silence fell over the room. Snape turned to Weasley, "I humbly suggest that you have your sons wait in the dining room. Our butler, Peeves," Snape stopped at Potter's waving his hand trying to get Snape's attention, "Oh, what is it, Potter?" he hissed with extreme annoyance.
"Begging your Lordship's pardon, but Peeves is on his honeymoon." Potter spoke swiftly, but kept his voice and head down.
"His WHAT! What do you mean honeymoon? Servants do not get honeymoons. I haven't even had mine yet."
"Perhaps after we've dealt with Miss Weasley's situation, I could explain," said Potter nervously.
Snape realized that seven pairs of eyes, blue, brown and varying indeterminate shades and hues in-between were focused on the two of them. "Well, yes. Later then. Hagrid!"
"Right here, Lord Snape." Hagrid poked his huge head round from the hallway. "You'd be wanting some refreshments for the young men?"
"Thank you, exactly." Snape turned, "well, everyone except the Squire, please follow our cook."
Snape sat down with a heavy sigh. He was quite aware that after traveling non-stop for days he was a bit rank. The Squire of the Burrow sniffed a couple of times before sitting down at a slighter greatly than appropriate distance.
"Mr. Potter will explain everything," said Snape through gritted teeth.
"Well, the thing is… To begin at the beginning…" Potter pulled his fingers through his hair making it stand straight up on his head. "Miss Weasley was taken advantage by a Sir Lucius Malfoy—"
"Malfoy?" said Mr. Weasley.
"MALFOY!" barked Snape wondering how could any rake get around so much or so quickly in despoiling young maidens.
"Umm. Yes." Potter looked at the two men and decided it was safest not to make eye contact again with Snape who seemed quite ready to foam at the mouth. Yes, thought Potter, the father was definitely the more reasonable one of the two.
"Lady Snape made the acquaintance of Miss Weasley and they became friends. Upon hearing of the misfortunes of Miss Weasley, and she has I'm sorry to say been most vilely abused," Potter paused while the Squire yet again burst into tears and had to be calmed down by Potter patting him on the back. "Lady Snape took it upon herself to offer Miss Weasley sanctuary from the monster and gave her a position as her personal companion."
"Without my permission?" thundered Snape.
"Well, it wasn't like we could reach you, was it?" No sooner than the angry words had left his mouth he regretted it. Things were not going well, not well indeed. Snape glowered at him. Not a good sign, thought Potter.
The Squire slowly pulled himself together. "I thank you sir for your accounting of my daughter." Weasley then turned to Snape, grabbed him and hugged him as Snape attempted to worm out of his grasp. "You, my good sir, have had the wonderful fortune to marry an angel. Though it grieves me to hear of what has happened to my daughter, my family shall rest well for the first time in months. How soon can I see here?" He anxiously looked from lord to valet.
Snape sneered at Potter, "Well, answer the man."
"Err, Lady McGonagall, Lady Snape and Miss Weasley are all having a light supper with Sir Remus Lupin and his wife and then they have a box reserved at the Drury Lane Theatre. They are to see the premiere of Othello with Kean in the title role."
Weasley was taken aback. "Theatre? She's gone to the theatre?" He seemed to be in shock. Potter and Snape shot each other a look, Potter shrugged.
"So Lady McGonagall has arrived?" Snape heaved a sigh of relief. At least the young ladies were properly chaperoned.
Squire Weasley sighed and his shoulders slumped. "The Theatre! There has never been a Weasley to set foot in such a low place! How will I ever tell Molly?" He shook his head. "Running off we could forgive, but going to the theatre? This will be the death of my poor wife."
Snape with a nod of the head indicated to Potter to get the red-haired man out of there.
"Well, it is the great Edmund Kean after all, and Shakespeare no less. Nothing to sniff about—" He actually had to put his arms around the man and hoist him on to his feet. "The Regent has a box there, too. It's a royal performance, in celebration of the ending of the war. Historical event, just think of it." During his disjointed speech, Potter managed to propel Weasley to the door and into the hallway. The six Weasley boys all came along from the dining room and were struck silent by their father's state of deep despair. Silently, abashedly, they left.
"Well, it's a good thing she didn't join the theatre and become an actress or she'd be disowned for sure," said Potter to himself.
Snape sat with his arms crossed and watched Potter muttering. Finally Snape quietly said, "Well. Now… A full accounting sir!" Snape felt bone weary and truly only wanted to take a bath and a nap; however, this was his home and he needed some understanding of the chaos that it had tumbled into.
Potter chewed on his bottom lip. If ever he could use a glass of elderberry wine it was now. He began to nervously pace. "Well, it's not like there's anyone to blame but yourself," Potter flinched at Snape's sudden inhale of breath, "or rather the people who called you away. Lady Snape locked herself in her room and cried for two days. Wouldn't come out, wouldn't eat. I was thinking we'd have to ship her back to her parents for her own good." Potter paused to see if the story was having a softening effect—it wasn't.
He shoved his fingers through he hair and started again. "It wouldn't have done, wouldn't have been good at all for her to fall ill again. Fortunately Hagrid and Peeves turned up and that got her going. Hagrid brought all his chickens with him. Insisted that he needed fresh produce, even if it were only eggs. So we had to build a chicken coop, and then the neighbors complained about the rooster. So she finally came out of her chambers and she and Hagrid liked each other right away. And you see sir, Hagrid wasn't happy that you'd bothered to redecorate the whole house for your marriage but didn't fix up the kitchens, so she hired these workers to—"
"Enough! And who gave her access to the funds for this?" Snape rubbed his eyes, and thought, please just to get the bleeding boots off and have a hot bath.
"Well, she asked if we had enough money and I said of course we did. What? Did you want me to lie? She's your wife, and she was terribly low and well, it did lift her spirits to be in charge of things. I thought that's what you wanted."
"Continue," Snape said in a sepulchral tone.
"Well, just about then Lady Snape caught Peeves and Winky flagrante delicto, hmm, no two ways around it, sir."
Snape winced and put his head in his hands.
"Lady Snape thought about it a few days and then called in the local minister who gave Peeves a good talking to about moral responsibility. Then Lady Snape pitched into him as well. My, she could go on the Brimstone circuit, because she had the terror of all damnation put into him. So, though he's always been somewhat of a cocks o' the walk where the maids were concerned up at the Yorkshire estate, and never wanted to settled down, once her Ladyship got through with him-- he asked for Winky's hand straight away. Then after they got riveted, Lady Snape gave them two days off to well, get things out of their system."
Snape looked up from his hands. "What else?"
"Well, she loves you very much. She's spent days trying to figure out how to save your hide." Potter waited for the explosion. It didn't come.
"She thinks you are a spy for Napoleon. She found the papers in your cloak, you know, the ones that you kept in case you were captured behind Nappy's lines. And she translated them. So, she's been trying to figure out how to save you in case you came in way of the hangman's noose. She's a bright one, right corky she is. She found out exactly whose fist to grease to get you out of gaol. She has a listing of all the ships heading to the New World and other listings for villas in Italy and Greece where you can go live-- say the New World thing doesn't work.
"The thing is, sir, I stayed loyal to your wishes. You didn't want me to tell her where you went and I didn't."
Snape looked at Potter, eyes glittering. "Anything else?"
"No sir."
In a hushed voice of velvet Snape said, "Well, first you shall collect Miss Weasley's things so she can return to her family…"
"Oh, no. I couldn't do that sir. She doesn't want to go back and I'm in love with her. I'm going to ask her to marry me."
One could almost hear the proverbial straw snap Snape's camel's back. His black eyes blinked once.
"Potter, your services are no longer required." He stood up and pointed to the door. "Gather your things. You are leaving this house, tonight."
"Severus."
"No, Harry, you knew this pretense of your being my valet was just until the war ended. It's over now. I don't need you to 'cover my back' anymore. Time for baby bird to leave the nest and fly off to Oxford." Snape spoke in a tone that left Potter little room for maneuvering.
"But Severus—" Potter tried anyhow.
"Excuse me. Did I just hear you say you met someone? Oh yes, Malfoy's leavings. You want to marry that light-skirt." Snape smiled coldly.
"She's a good woman who made a mistake. Just one mistake! And look, I think I'd be in pretty good company, all things considered about Malfoy's leavings."
Snape went pale and stared at the young man in disbelief. Potter flushed bright red and looked at the floor, "I'm sorry Severus-- I didn't mean it."
Severus pulled out an envelope from his jacket. In a silky, dangerous voice meant to brook no dissent he said, "Give this to the dean of Christ Church. He will see that you start your studies immediately. I wrote it while in Paris. You see? You're not being punished. It's simply time for you to be going and making your way in this life. Remember I gave you the choice: study to be a parson or have a commission in the military. You chose—
"I chose to stay with you." Potter dropped to his knees. "Let me stay here a while longer, Severus. Just until you find a replacement for me. I promise—"
"You come to me and tell me that you wish to marry. And how are you going to support her when you don't have sixpence to scratch with? I forbid you to pay court to this woman and that is my final say. Yes, you are an adult and as an adult you should know better than to lead on a woman that you cannot financially take care of. So the sooner you get cracking at Oxford, the sooner you can go out and start a family, if that's what you want. You know this is the only way, everything I have is entailed." His words were filled with bitter pain.
Potter got up and walked to the window, leaning his head against the glass. "I understand what you are saying, Severus. I do."
"Good. You can write me from Oxford." Snape walked out and headed for the kitchens. He never saw the tears going down Potter's face, nor did Potter know that the same was happening to the man who had been his father in all things, except name, for so many years.
By the time Snape reached the kitchens, no trace of his tears remained. He found Hagrid sitting by the stove, pickling onions. "Well, sir, what can Aye do fer yeh?" asked the huge chef.
"First you can remove these demned boots from my feet. Potter was too weak to handle it. And then you can boil water for my bath. I need to go to the theatre tonight and I must be presentable."
Finally in his bath, Snape allowed himself the luxury of self-doubt. He had worked so hard to try to raise the boy right. Where had he failed that the child had become so rebellious on the one hand and so terribly clingy on the other? Snape remembered how the orphan would come to his bedroom after a nightmare. Snape wanted to comfort the child, but he also wanted him to know that dreams were silly things, not to be fussed over. Had it been wrong to allow Harry to sleep at the foot of his bed at those times? Snape sighed. It destroyed him to see the young man leave, and yet, all children did grow up and do so. Why did it have to be so difficult in Harry Potter's case?
He remembered how he'd been strong-armed by one of the Ton to go visit the orphanage. How he'd been struck first by the boy's bright green eyes and then with the awareness of how that with his scrawniness and his cough the child would probably not live much longer. And on impulse, he decided to save the boy's life. Later Snape had heard how an epidemic had gone rampaging in the orphanage killing slightly more than one third of the waifs, but not his Harry. No, his Harry was kept well fed and warm and far from harm's way. But now, if he wished Harry to continue to thrive he had to be unselfish and let go of him, for better or worse, to live his own life. Snape decided that he had, after all, done the right thing in sending Harry away. So why couldn't he stop crying?
A/N: Many thanks to my dear reviewers: Natlia Flor, Queenie, Lana Riddle, lissy K
Cant Glossary:
Restorative = Tonic
Dungeon = Bad mood
Plant a facer = Punch in the face
Riveted = Married
Fist to grease = Bribe
Gaol = Jail
Nappy = Napoleon
Corky = Bright and lively
Light-skirt = Woman of easy virtue
Haven't a sixpence to scratch with = Have no money
Quick note on the concept of entailing property: I have used the concept extremely loosely here. I know it can prevent inheritances from going to certain descendents. However, for the purposes of this story, Snape's money and position is not something he can give to an adoptee. I'm pretty sure that this is a misuse of the concept, which goes back to Roman law, but hell, it's fanfiction! So please suspend your disbelief and please extend your concept of what an 'entail' might entail. (Ooops, a pun, wicked me!)
