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Son of the Morning: Son of Perdition
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma percioche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s'i'odo il vero,
Senza tem d'imfamia ti respondo.
Chapter fifteen: "Come Away O human child…"
"Severus?"
Severus groaned at the sound of his name and rolled over in bed.
"Severus, get up!" He knew the voice already. It was his cousin, Christian Rinaldi, pushing him in his sleep to wake. Severus smiled to himself but did nothing. Christian finally got annoyed and pushed him from the bed. "Up Severus, now! Mother wants you."
He looked up and smiled. Severus was nine, Christian was eight and they were staring down each other, waiting. For this battle, it was Severus who made the first move; he grabbed a pillow and swung it at his French kinsman.
"Oh so that's how you'll attack!" Christian said, diving with a pillow in each hand. "Just like an Englishman, on your ass!"
The two cousins fought till the pillows burst and down feathers wafted down like snow. Devoid of weapons, they moved to regular wrestling. Neither boy was built for fighting but that didn't matter. This was part of the ritual of Severus' yearly visits to his mother's family in Lower France.
It was summer, and he was vacationing with family, his mornings were filled with the smell of bacon and the warmth of the sun on his face and his evenings were filled with his younger cousins, the twins Loic and Tristan playing Quidditch with their father. He'd play the Seeker.
The Rinaldi clan was Severus' idea of family: Pascal, Lorraine and their children. As a younger boy, he used to imagine waking up to the smell of breakfast in his nose and having a family just like theirs. He used to pretend ladies' voices belonging to his mother Sabine, and her sister Aunt Lorraine. He heard men talking too; those must be his father Kaiser and his uncle Pascal.
It was the one of the
few times he was ever truly happy.
But it was all a dream. And tossing in bed, Severus couldn't have prepared himself for the next years of his life, when these dreams would be his darkest secret and greatest fear.
There was another moment that passed before him, more recent, and well beloved. He caught the briefest whisper of jasmine on the air and smiled, longing to follow it. He caught a glimpse in his mind's eye of her eyes that seemed to change color each time the light hit them. He saw the small, private grin that never seemed right on her until that moment when she was smiling at him, despite her best intentions. And he tasted rain on his lips.
It was the first of Hecate's warm rains. Summers were dry and hot and the rains that broke the season from summer to autumn were a welcome that no Auror could overlook. At first sign of the rain, Severus had taken Billy outside and done something they had been waiting to do since summer started.
They played in the rain.
And Sydney had sent her out to bring them back in from the rain. She, of course, had failed in bringing in them in and indeed before the storm had passed- somehow Severus had convinced Sydney, Jude, Gideon even Malachi Smith to joined in.
But when everyone had gone inside to dry off, he saw she had lingered. She had looked around but hadn't seen him. When she was certain no one was watching, she had taken off her socks and shoes and had begun to wade in the small streams of slow moving, warm rainwater. Then she smiled. A small, private smile that caused the corners of her eyes to wrinkle. A smile never seemed right on her face till that moment.
He fell in love with that, with her.
Severus inclined his head and tasted the rainwater. It was salty. That was wrong- rain wasn't salty.
Tears were.
Severus Snape awoke and was at first confused as to where he was. Then the creature stirred beside him and he remembered. He was in France, Calais to be more specific. He was at Jacqueline's villa. Last night, he had lain to rest his uncle, his family's legacy, his career as an in Auror and every other plan he had for his life. So now, staring at the beams of sunlight, he began to wonder what happened now.
He brought his hand up to his face and studied it. Last night he had held a sword and had used it to kill his uncle, for the sake of his family honor.
He had killed the only man who had ever truly been there for him. And the reason had been laughable….for honor's sake. He had killed him because it was expected of him…
Snape hated that truth as much as he had loved Riener.
And last night, he had killed a little piece of himself.
He could still feel the warm blood over his eye and felt his heart twist against the pain. He wanted to scream at the memory of last night but found himself mute as his muscles recalled holding his uncle as the fallen Auror slipped from his grip and loosened his hold on his own curse life. Reiner's eyes never left his.
The soul beneath the terror died a slow, painful death. The last Snape to die and Auror's death went to his grave in not a shout but a whimper. There was no honor, no ceremony and no wake. Reiner had fallen to the cruel ground and in doing so, did nothing of worth.
So what happened now, he wondered. He had killed his only family and had turned his back on the Aurors. His entire life had been in preparation for a life with the Aurors and now, having shunned that, he was at a lost?
Where did he go from there?
He felt Jacqueline shift beside him.
"Good morning, my beloved." She whispered.
He smiled at her gently and leaned over to brush her cheek. "Morning? It's three in the afternoon."
"It's morning to us." She let her eyes linger on his for a long beat. "Come on, it's time to go."
"Go where?"
She gave him a teasing smile. "Through the Looking Glass." He frowned and the room erupted into pearls of her laughter, followed a few moments later by his.