Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the Harry Potter series of books. I am making no money from the distribution of this fanfiction. Anything you recognize is not mine.

Author notes: Thanks everyone who had reviewed so far.

Chapter 6: The Other Story
The potions corridor seemed rather cold that April morning as Severus awoke to get ready for the Easter Ball. He had put a warming charm on his house shoes and then walked quietly though the halls to avoid the emptiness of his quarters. His loo had been radically colder than the previous morning when he'd showered and prepared for the morning rounds. He hadn't noticed that it was only five in the morning or that it was a Sunday. He hadn't been really early or really late, rather he was right on time per usual. Everything had seemed to be per usual lately and that frightened the potions master greatly, as he was sure the ball had to drop somewhere. The previous months hadn't been as strenuous as the first couple of the term. Aside from a damning headache and a stubborn cough, he seemed to be in perfect health. He was normal, as normal as Severus Snape could be. Upon entering the infirmary, Severus heard an echoing cough and found Madame Pomfrey sitting on a bed, cloaked.
"Sorry to intrude, Poppy, I rather hoped to get a list of the stores you needed restocked." Severus stated making sure he didn't sound desperate for company or a diversionary task.
"No bother, Severus. I made a list out last night before I left for the Hopkins. Seems little Fletcher has pneumonia or palmersons...it's one of those, something muggle with a terrible rash of sorts. Hold on, I'll go and see where I placed it." Madame Pomfrey rose and went to her office to retrieve the list. Somehow, in the early morning memory, he hadn't placed the name Hopkins as quickly as he should.
"Here it is. I am afraid I have no time to further explain some of it. I have to go back later to make sure Christopher and Hermione are alright."
"How regrettable." Severus's voice resounded, less sarcastic than sadistic. "Yes, well after losing one child, Hermione is being rather careful with Fletcher, but I hardly blame her." Severus's eyes popped quickly towards Madame Pomfrey in complete surprise.
"Come again?"
"During the war, Severus, she lost her child after that attack. I rather thought you of all people would remember that." He brought a crisp hand to his forehead and rubbed his temple. His mouth was left open, in disgust rather than surprise. "Yes, well thank you Poppy, I'll have these ready by tomorrow." Severus turned on his heal and headed back to the dungeons to begin preparations for some of the potions. Had he really been so blind as not to notice his own fiancée's pregnancy? Suddenly he stopped on the stairs recalling the fateful night that had ended her pregnancy and his own participation. He had stabbed Hermione in the abdomen with a poisonous knife, no doubt ending the child's life immediately. He had inevitably killed his own child. His only child. He had fallen to the steps some time during his epiphany and slouched into what could only be described as a ball.
"Professor, are you alright?" A student asked, passing the melancholy professor.
"Yes." He mumbled, standing and turning once more towards Albus Dumbledore's office. He desperately needed someone to talk to.
"Happy Easter, Severus, what brings you to my office on this morning and so early?" Severus collapsed in a chair uncharacteristically and bowed his head.
"I was in the infirmary this morning." "What ails you then?" Dumbledore asked, peering at Severus through his half- moon spectacles as if to say he already knew.
"A broken life, I assume. Poppy informed me that Fletcher Hopkins is ill." Severus stated, hiding his true secret beneath an act of casual conversation.
"Yes, I heard myself this morning from Minerva. Seems Hermione owled her as well. Pity, really, it is one of those illnesses that must run its course." Albus rested his palm on Severus' shoulder and for once Severus didn't pull away or sneer. He felt secure.
"I loved her, Albus." Severus admitted.
"Yes, I expected as much. Unfortunate how events occurred, however."
"It took me along time to admit that to myself, that I loved her I mean. It took longer for me to open up to her. She was so patient and spirited. She would purposely leave her books in my lab so she would have an excuse to return later that night or the next eve. Eventually I suspected what she was doing and left her a note letting her know that she needn't have an excuse to come to lab. We were quick friends thereafter, as hard as it may be to believe. I first knew I loved her when she left for summer holidays with Potter. I was without her presence for two and a half excruciating months." He paused and began again.

"When she returned, she was more determined than ever to make a more reliable wolfsbane. I was ready to make her my wife. I asked her to marry me on at the Weasley wedding that second year together. She was surprised and happy, not depressed and unaccepting as i had expected. She wanted to start planning straight away, but the dark lord was growing stronger and less secretive. One evening in early March, she followed me to a death eater meeting and the Dark Lord acquired her. He had newly learned some important news and was adamant to have her killed. His task for me was to torture her slowly and leave her to die painfully, though though he later admitted he had had no intent to kill her. When i was hurting her Albus, all i could think of was anger and disappointment in myself. I couldn't spare her. She amazed me with strength and hardly cried at all until the knife had found a home in her abdomen. When i finally returned to the castle, she refused to see me. I had no idea there was more to the story than her hatred of my duties. While she slept one night, I crept into the infirmary just to watch her sleep. She had no face, Albus. She had no smile or frown or anything. All I saw were bandages and blood. I stared at her for hours wondering how long her recovery would be and if she would want to reschedule the wedding or cancel it for all i knew. She reached for my hand sometime and opened her eyes to meet mine. I know she recognized me, Albus, because she called to me. She cried for a while and then stopped suddenly as if she could cry no more and dropped my hand. I assume that was her way of saying goodbye. Inside, I was dying but I wanted to make her see my strength. I had no idea she was crying for more than a disfigured face and some rather uncalled for situation." Severus could not continue, his own eyes felt as though they might form tears, though they didn't. Dumbledore sat down across from his and studied his face. He knew Severus was not the type to divulge such important or personal information. "Had you any idea about the child, Albus?"
"Not until she left the infirmary. I happened to be waiting for some headache relief and Poppy explained to her about some unfortunate side effects of the poison and the chances of her conceiving another child. I put two and two together and realized she must have been with child."
"She blamed me, Albus, and I've never felt so guilty before in my life."
"You cannot erase the past or your transgressions, Severus. There is only the future and the possibilities of a lifetime." "I never thought i wanted children. Even then, I probably would've been terrified of a child, yet I know that i would've loved it." Severus said, surprised at his own admission. It was so unlike him to feel such strong emotions; even more unusual was his admission of said emotions.
"There is little i can tell you except that it was a boy and she named him Julius. I happened upon her one-day in the Forbidden Forest and saw that she had planted a splendid white Oak for him. She bewitched the flowers to grow wild and yearly around it."
"Thank you, Albus."

Severus left Dumbeldore's office quickly, his mind racing between his duties and his determination to put on a front of snarly potions professor. He opened his door and sat quickly on his black couch and thought. His brain seemed drained from the day's events, yet full of questions and theories. He noticed a stack of mail on his desk and also a small package. The package was from his mother who always sent him an Easter present. The mail on the other hand was useless junk mail, not worth his time. He through the mail into his fire and brewed some tea. The potions he was going to make wouldn't take long and hardly needed his attention as much as his brain did or his sanity for that matter. Once he was sure the staff room was empty, he pilfered through some of the maps of the Forbidden Forest and snatched one with the intent to find a single, uncommon white Oak. Once he had the map, he fetched his thickest and darkest cloak and set out towards the forest in search of his child.
The snow was deep and untouched as Severus headed for the forest. He was a stark contrast to the white pureness of the snow as he was cloaked in black and held a heart of remorse. The woods became thick and full as he traveled deeper and deeper into the forest. He heard owls and other birds, sometimes the sounds of hooves and howls, but he was determined and unafraid He studied his map, but quickly realized that it was useless, as it didn't say where Hermione had planted the tree or where a child might be buried. Eventually, he came upon an area that was devoid of snow or foliation. It was circular in shape and green as the greenest grass in England. A single tree was in the center; white with dark black circles all over it's body. He had never seen a White Oak before in person, so he imagined that it had to be one. At the base of the tree were thousands of wildflowers in a rainbow of colors that were fragrant and alive. He walked closer to the tree and read a small inscription that seemed to be growing with the tree as some letters were larger than others. It read:
Julius Orin Snape
March 5, 2001
Rest In Peace, My Beloved Son

She had remembered Severus's middle name, which he had only mentioned once or twice in their entire acquaintance. A child she had kept from him bore his middle and last name. It was all so consuming and deteriorating to his mind. She had been angry with him and had refused to see him, yet she still named their child after him. "You are my son as well." Severus said pushing some of the wildflowers from the inscription. He pointed his wand towards it and changed the 'my' to 'our'. He remained at the tree for hours not immediately worried about the other professors noticing his absence from the day's festivities or from the staff meeting. He was too consumed with the idea of his child and his once fiancée. The longer he sat at the tree, the more he wondered of the protective spells she had on it and if there were any he could place on the tree. He tried to cut the tree and failed. He tried to pull leaves and flowers from the tree and failed. He tried to burn the tree and failed. She had placed the most protective spells she could on the tree and somehow that made Severus feel for her even more knowing that she had done this in a time of great distress.

And in that instant, Severus had never felt more alone. In his life he had loved but three people, His father, Albus Dumbledore, and Hermione and knowing that his love for them was real, he sometimes doubted it was reciprocated. He bowed down towards the little tree, the little child who was less vulnerable than he was at that moment, and wiped away a single tear. He truly didn't know where the tear had come from or which emotion had felt it, regardless, it was gone and with that he left the forest. Before he left, he released the protection spell that made it impossible for him to cut the wildflowers and he took a bit, for potions.

The Easter Ball was uneventful. Severus had donned his infamous black dress robes and sat at the high table in quiet desperation. He hadn't anticipated the day's events and therefore was less than social or forgiving. He remained at the high table for the duration of the night, sipping his Firewhiskey and watching the students pretend to be dancing, as if they knew what real dancing could be. He wiped his face gingerly with his lap cloth and tried to appear to be enjoying the event, though he wasn't. He rather expected the crowd not to notice him at all.
"What poison tonight, Severus?" Remus Lupin asked taking a break from dancing with the students and faculty.
"What else would it be on a night such as this?" Severus replied, hoping he sounded as poisonous as the drink as to scare the werewolf away.
"When I was dancing with Miss Irwin, she said you looked rather lonely up here, wanted to know if you danced with students." Remus chuckled and patted Severus lightly on the shoulder. He himself had been worried about Severus as well, sitting alone looking even more brooding than ever.
"These parties never amuse me, Remus, you should know that by now. Besides, there are other things I could be doing except Dumbledore demands we show face and socialize with the heathens."
"You could do with some dancing and lively music, Severus." Remus heaved Severus arm from it's spot, causing him to stand and then trust him towards Professor Sinistra. In moments, Severus was dancing with a rather unpleasant look on his face. The raven-haired dance partners were the only people dancing a ballroom style while everyone else stayed contemporary and informal. He remained on the dance floor with Sinistra for three dances and then walked her back to the table and thanked her for the dances. He then left the infernal ball and went to his lab to gather his potions to restore Madame Pomfrey's stock. It was after twelve when he finally made it to the infirmary with his potions and antidotes. The room looked rather still, yet he could hear the murmur of tiny breaths and noticed a crib in the far corner of the room.

He retreated to his task and thought nothing more of the child until he began to hear loud cries coming from it. He wondered in that moment where Pomfrey had got off to and why she wasn't in the infirmary but still went to the crib side and starred down at the child. Babies had always frightened him; they were too fragile and small. When he had first held his own nephews, it was awkward and uncomfortable, as they seemed to just roll about however they pleased. In a sudden wave of instinct, he scooped the infant in his arms and hushed it's cries. He wondered what the staff would think if they could see him then, cradling a small child in his arms and shooing it's cries. The moonlight paraded about the room as snowflakes and Severus felt oddly more comfortable than he had been in weeks as he sat in the rocking chair beside the crib.

The child's face was colorless and pale, it's eyes fluttering open every once in a while to reveal something like violet in the color, and it's cries were finally starting to subside. There was a red rash over most of it's skin and tiny bumps that seemed to be itching the babe. Severus took the child with him to the storeroom and gathered a small amount of lavender and calamine and lathered the child from head to foot. The smell reminded him of his own bout with what looked like Chicken pox, and how he had hated his mother for not letting him have the salve as she claimed Chicken pox was a punishment for his insolence. He returned the child to the main room and smoothed it's chestnut hair from it's face. As he laid the child in the crib, he placed some of the wildflowers he had taken from Julius' tree and also a sprig of lavender for love and luck. As much as he detested children, death was something he detested more and hoped somehow that the two special plants and the salve would aide the child in recovery. With that, he left the infirmary in great speed. Upon entering his quarters, Severus saw a little note on his desk. It was from Remus.
'Severus,
We need to go over the plans for the conference with the
Ministry. Just let me know when you are available. Hope the ball and
festivities didn't depress you further. Life carries on, mate.
Yours, etc. RJL

Severus folded the letter over and dumped it in the fire. Tomorrow he would write a letter in better taste and send him his views. Tonight, however, Severus wanted nothing more than to sleep on his fine bed and forget everything he could before the next day.