Shedding hair turned out to be the first of many odd things Fiddler did during the following days.
Severus and Fiddler hadn't had a proper honeymoon, as Dumbledore seemed to believe they'd endanger themselves by parting from Elvenpath. Hence, Severus had to endure the endless taunting the Weasley twins and the rest of the 'Kids' poured onto them; and he'd had to share his first meals as a married man with a crowd of dunces smiling knowingly towards him and Fiddler. She didn't seem to mind, but Severus seriously thought that was because she didn't seem to be herself at all, sometimes.
"I thought we were forbidden to do magic?" said Ron uncertainly after watching the door close after Fiddler of its own volition for the third time in a row.
She did that a lot, lately, Severus mused, and she didn't even notice, she just floated around like a distracted ghost performing amazing bits of seemingly innocent wandless magic such as closing doors, boiling water, turning on the CD player without even approaching it, making the twins roll down the stairs (to Severus' admitted, infinite amusement), stopping pans and pots from falling over, predicting rain, wind and snow… And, what indeed had worried Severus the most, casting a Killing Spell (he couldn't be sure it was in fact Avada Kedavra) —
Just with the power of her mind.
They had all witnessed the scene, as they were gathered round having tea. Even Severus was there, and that was a first, and they had been chattering inconsequentially, mostly about the aftermaths of the Handfasting (no big deal, just a couple of scorched bushes, three broken tables, two nearly-drowned-royally-pissed Aurors… just the usual), and of course, Molly couldn't keep her attention away from Fiddler's pregnancy, nattering all over the place about the upcoming babies and the assortment of jumpers they would be needing.
"Molly", said Fiddler gleefully. "I am due August 3rd. I don't think they'll be needing jumpers just now".
Molly's ears went as red as her hair but that didn't stop her. She then decided to comment on the best way to up bring twins and Severus cringed inwardly at the possibility that the children he'd fathered would grow up to be a living replica of Fred and George Weasley. He even considered the possibility to actually say something about it but he held back his tongue. At that very moment, Arthur Weasley appeared through the door, helped himself to a cup of tea and smiled benevolently.
"Oh, Arthur", Molly said. "Not the Laundry room again?"
Indeed.
Arthur had spent the afternoon in the laundry room (again; everybody was beginning to wonder what was so interesting about it), and soon he was boring the pants off them by telling them the wonders of the washer machine, when a rather pained growl interrupted him. Fiddler's head shot up and looked around for Triskelion; Ginny, Hermione and Harry, who were closer to the window, ran towards it, and Ginny blanched.
"Oh… Dear Merlin…" she stuttered.
"What?" Fiddler stepped forward, her eyes wide and shining.
"Fiddler—" Severus made a move to stop her, but he distinctively felt a pair of hands on his shoulders pushing him back down onto his chair. He looked around, wildly, and saw, of course, that there was nobody close to him.
It had been Fiddler, all right, but she didn't even notice. She stalked to the window and froze, but only for half a second. Next thing Severus knew, she was sprinting towards the closest door, holding her pregnant belly with one hand, her hair flying behind her. They followed her, out of sheer curiosity and stood on the threshold, looking at Triskelion engaged in ferocious battle with what it seemed a stray wolf. Severus watched her walk down the stone steps and heard his own voice saying something stupid like:
"Fiddler, come back, you're pregnant!"
But she didn't listen. In fact, after approaching the fighting animals, she didn't even blink; she stood there looking at the fighting animals, the wind playing with her hair and a vague aura surrounding her… And then she opened her mouth and shouted.
"Triskelion, back!" with the same tone of voice that had made Sonia the Dunderhead shiver and babble in a dream not that long ago.
Triskelion backed off, barking at the wolf, and cast an inquiring glance to his owner, as Severus and the rest of them held their breath standing petrified on the threshold.
Suddenly, the wolf leapt forward, growling madly and baring its teeth as Fiddler scooped Triskelion off the ground; she turned her head quickly, just in time to catch a glimpse of the wolf floating in midair—
And they all watched it fell abruptly to the ground, unmistakably dead.
No sparks, no green light, no shushing sound. Just an invisible wave that seemed to crush them all, leaving them wan and shaky, rooted to their spots, unable to believe what they had just seen.
Severus reacted at last and closed the distance between him and his wife in five furious strides. He reached out his hand, with the vague thought of grasping her shoulder and bellow at her, but he did neither. Fiddler turned slowly to face him, white-faced and trembling…
And he caught her in his arms as she swooned.
He watched out of the corner of his eye Triskelion jumping back to the ground after he, apparently, realised Fiddler was out and would no longer hold him, but he had no second thoughts to spare for the dog as he carried Fiddler back into the house. He deposited her carefully on the nearest couch and crouched next to her, smoothing her hair away from her face.
He heard Molly fussing around in the kitchen, sending Arthur for some brandy, yelling at the twins for being in her way, asking Tonks for a knife and shrieking in despair when the young female Auror cut herself with it.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry—" she stammered. "I'm just—"
But what she was, she didn't say. Not that Severus needed it spelled out. They were all shocked to death.
"That's OK, Tonks… Arthur, get the knife, will you? Cut a lemon and…"
Severus stopped listening, as he saw Potter, Granger and the Weasleys were gathered in the corner, discussing what had just happened in hushed voices, and Severus suddenly felt the need to curse them all into next week. But a soft pained sound coming from his collapsed wife drew his attention back to her.
"Please— Leave me— It— Hurts—" she choked out.
"Fiddler?"
Severus peered into her half shut eyes and fell ungracefully to the floor on his backside.
Fiddler's eyes were bright yellow, with vertical pupils like a cat's.
§
From Severus Snape's point of view, things just got worst after that.
Fiddler woke up a good two hours later, with no recollection whatsoever of the incident, her lower back and belly aching horribly, but, and thank Merlin for that, her greenish-blue irises back on place. Molly had pressed a cup of incredibly strong tea with lemon juice into her trembling hands and watched her in her very on motherly way until she drank it all.
After that, and to everyone's astonishment, Severus had gathered Fiddler in his arms and taken her upstairs to their room, where he laid her on the bed and settled himself next to her. She was still rather droopy and weak looking, but nevertheless she crawled into Severus' arms and let out a contented sigh against his chest.
She fell asleep almost instantly and Severus eyed her thoughtfully, his analytic mind trying to decode the mystery she'd become. Could it be their magical binding? He nodded to himself, thinking it could be possible. Albus Dumbledore's sense of humor could go beyond the evident, but this time had gone far enough…
Or maybe it was the children in her womb. Yes, Severus had read somewhere that women in the grip of their bodies' crazed hormones could turn into frightening Banshees during pregnancy, and Fiddler was already half one to begin with. He tried to laugh at it, but for the life of him couldn't do it. What had happened with that accursed wolf had been too frightening, even for Severus' standards.
Severus stifled a yawn and cradled Fiddler in his arms, and just as he was deciding he could think it over and discuss it with Fiddler the following morning, she went rigid in his embrace and let out what was unmistakably a moan of pain.
"Fiddler?" Severus asked immediately. "Fiddler, what's wrong?"
She didn't answer. She convulsed again, her fingers curling to claws, her legs fighting their way close to her chest, and she whimpered again. Severus watched her arms wrap themselves involuntarily over her bulging belly and her back arched backwards, the cords of her neck standing up.
"Oh… no…" she moaned. "Oh, god, please, no…"
"Fiddler!"
Severus shook her but she still didn't react. She curled up into a ball, trying to breathe through what it looked like searing pain, but all she managed were ragged moans through gritted teeth. Then she let out an even louder scream.
"NO, NO, NO! LEAVE ME, LEAVE ME, IT HURTS!"
Severus was scared now. This wasn't normal and he'd seen enough of Dark Magic to recognize it when faced with it. For the first time it dawned on him that Banshees were dark creatures and that the one currently lurking inside his wife was winning the battle and taking over.
And he couldn't let that happen.
Eventually Fiddler's pain seemed to subside, leaving her sweaty and shaken, her waist-length hair covering her face and her upper body. She had a hand to her belly, convulsively wrapped around the swelling; she was unconscious and her skin was incongruously blushed.
"Fiddler?"
He sat up in bed and felt for her pulse, as she'd done for him on previous occasions. There was one, but faint, erratic.
"Fiddler?!" he repeated, urgently. He took her in his arms and lifted her from the bed. She was limp as a discarded garment. His temper rose, and he looked around for something to blast to smithereens.
He felt so impaired, without a wand, without any magic at all; defenseless in his bed dressed in nothing but his sleeping attire and with an unconscious woman in his arms… He touched her belly in hopes of feeling his children moving inside, but they seemed to be asleep. At least, Severus hoped they were. Fiddler was barely breathing. Her skin was rather dry and hot to the touch. Severus frowned at the lack of sweat. He stroked her blushed cheek gently and moved his fingers to her eyelids, plying them open; her pupils were so dilated that it was almost as if her eyes had suddenly turned black, surrounded by a thin greenish blue halo. But at least there was no trace of yellow in them. Severus headed for the door, and he was about to open it when Fiddler moaned softly and opened her eyes.
"Severus…" she whispered, and his heart clenched at the pain in her voice. "Severus, it hurts…"
"What hurts? Fiddler? What—" he nearly sobbed then. He was so incredibly mad for not knowing what to do, how to help her.
"It hurts! God, it hurts so bad…!" Fiddler was crying in pain, twitching in his arms.
She seized again and Severus decided he'd had enough. Sod Dumbledore and his magical restraint, he was going to get a wand somewhere and help his wife. He opened the door and opened his mouth to speak when a sound stopped him again.
It was the damned CD player, but for once, the high-pitched soprano voice of the Finnish singer Fiddler nearly worshiped was nowhere to be heard. Instead, a deep male voice that reminded Severus strongly of his own started to sing:
And here in the night
as I feel the inferno
I stare in the dark
thinking what is eternal
The man or the moment
the act or the reason
these thoughts fill my head
as I contemplate treason
Of dreams I have had
and dreams I have pondered
when late in the night
my mind it would wander
To things I have done
and then quickly regretted
while denying vices
my life had selected
And I think what I've done
or have yet to begin
and the man I've become
and the man that I've been
Now caught in a waltz
with the eternal dancer
I'm courted by death
but death isn't the answer
I say
The man kept singing, accompanied by violins, a piano and guitars, but Severus didn't pay attention. He remembered he'd once thought whether Fiddler was always able to find a song for every occasion, and he'd somewhat painfully discovered that indeed, she could. And he felt a cold hand around his heart. This couldn't be happening. Not now.
And who would have thought
that my fate it would conjure
this twist in the road
on which I have wandered
Each vision and dream now
completely dismembered
to give one's whole life
and find nothing's
remembered
And what good is a life
that leaves nothing behind
not a thought or a dream
that might echo in time
The years and the hours
the seconds and minutes
and everything that
my life has placed in it
betrayed…
Severus was numb and rooted to the spot, with Fiddler in his arms.
His thoughts were disconnected, he didn't know who was singing anymore. Was it himself? Was it Fiddler, her eyes shining sardonically as the music voiced his thoughts out loud, those endless, bitter times when Dumbledore's trust just hadn't been enough, when he'd felt observed and pointed at, when they'd made him feel like he sullied the Good, Bright, Brave Gryffindor Order by submitting them to his company, when he'd thought he'd always be seen as a Death Eater, as a tamed but dangerous monster that everyone should look out for…
Yet no one, with the possible exception of Dumbledore, remembered that said monster had been the father of a child that had died because of Gryffindor oh, so valuable recklessness.
Deep down, Severus was aware that perhaps Lucas' faith was to die ever since the minute he was conceived, but he hadn't been Sorted into Slytherin for nothing, and his scheming mind had convinced himself that if Potter and Black had stuck to the plans, things would have turned out quite differently.
But they hadn't, and Severus' life had taken an isolated, devastating path…
And then… a twist in the road, in the form of a not-typically-beautiful Half Breed, with pretty much his own attitude and vision of life… It was like poetic justice, Severus mused, the Redeemed Death Eater and the Half-Banshee, two monsters everyone with enough brains would avoid… Linked to one another. Together.
As if, like his mother would have said, it had been meant to be all along.
Fiddler relaxed gradually in his embrace, and her even breathing and tranquil face told Severus she was finally asleep. Apparently, she was out of danger. Slowly, Severus closed the door and retraced his steps. He put Fiddler back into bed and drew the bedclothes over her. He settled beside her and kissed her hair.
He was drifting into blissful sleep when Fiddler jerked awake and grabbed fistfuls of his nightshirt, her face pale, her eyes wild and her chest heaving. Her trembling hands traced the outline of his face and wandered down to his chest, but there was no seduction in the gesture; it seemed like she was trying to make sure he was there with her, alive and whole.
"Dear Merlin, Fiddler, what's wrong!", he shouted, unable to help it.
Fiddler blinked repeatedly and rubbed her eyes. She frowned and looked at him.
"What?" she mumbled.
Severus was at a loss of words. It was just too much.
"Fiddler— You… you—" his voice failed him and he took a deep breath. "Don't you remember anything?" he said at last, with a note of incredulity.
Fiddler shook her head.
"All right… I will explain later", Severus said then. "What happened just now, when you woke up and rattled me?"
Fiddler eyed him levelly and sighed.
"I dreamt I had killed you", she said flatly.
§§§
"So… that would be all", Severus said hesitantly.
Dumbledore had never yet failed on being there when he was most needed, and had in fact Apparated to Elvenpath the following day. Severus had wasted no time in informing the old wizard of the latest events and he was now anxiously waiting for a reaction.
"How is she now?" Dumbledore asked.
Severus hesitated for a moment.
"Fine… actually. She— Well, she had trouble sleeping, but… She is all right now. Nothing else has happened further to what I have already told you, sir".
"I see". Dumbledore remained silent for a while and then added: "Do you recognize her struggle?"
Severus stared at him and nodded slowly.
"I thought it might be something of the… sort", he said.
"It is. I told you once, my boy, Banshees are not benevolent…" Albus saw Severus jump indignantly and held out his hand. "I am aware of Fiddler's extraordinary qualities, Severus, but you must admit she's been through a lot, recently. Love, motherhood, magical binding to another… Three things she considered far beyond her reach. She's walking the same path you once paced… Remember? Your world was shattered, your trust betrayed, your hope lost. And you had to struggle down the worst in you in order to rejoin our side, to be embraced as one of us…"
"I was never embraced as one of you, Headmaster", Severus said bitterly. "And neither has been Fiddler. She told me once, in reference to a Muggle fairy tale…" Severus looked up and then quoted her: "the popular story told that the Duckling was cast away by the other ducks because he was too ugly and different to be worthy of their company; so he found the swans. But they didn't embrace him and called him the most beautiful among them… They killed him because, even though he looked like a swan, he still acted like a duck".
Dumbledore blinked several times, the twinkle in his eyes nowhere to be seen.
"Do you not see? That's what happens… only it's not precisely that way… We might not act like ducks, but we surely still look like them."
"You mean you will always be thought of as a Death Eater, and Fiddler as a dangerous Dark Creature?"
"Yes, Headmaster", said Snape in a defeated voice. "That's what I mean".
Dumbledore eyed him sadly, but said nothing. Severus, wondering if he'd offended him, moved hastily back to their previous subject.
"So… Regarding Fiddler, sir… Will she be able to push down the worst of her, as you put it?"
Dumbledore smiled.
"But that's exactly the difference! She won't have to do such thing! She needs to find a balance and then— Then… She'll become a valuable ally".
"I am not sure if I want her to join us in battle".
"Ooh, but Severus, that's not your decision!" Dumbledore said merrily. "I told you once she's linked to Harry, and hence, to Voldemort's annihilation. Which brings me to ask you… is there anything else you'd like to tell me?"
Severus didn't answer immediately. He was reliving that particular conversation, and what Dumbledore had said: 'We cannot afford to lose her. She's full with Earth Magic, Severus. Earth magic and amazing intellect, no need for a wand there. Somehow she managed to inherit both the best part of her banshee and wizarding heritage…'
"Severus?"
"Yes… I am sorry, Headmaster. There's something still… I've just remembered it. Earth magic and all… On our Handfasting Night… She shed hair. Three hairs." He produced a small bottle from inside his pocket and handed it to the older wizard. "I know it seems… unimportant… But—"
"Banshees don't shed hair", said Dumbledore at once. "It is astonishingly magical, Banshee hair, but incredibly hard to acquire… The only way is for the Banshee herself to give it willingly… Which of course, never happens. They're rather temperamental, Banshees…". He eyed the bottle in his long fingers thoughtfully and added. "This could be a good omen, Severus, do you know? Yes… I am sure I will be able to put these valuable items to a good use. Now, if you'll excuse me… I need to discuss some things with Alastor".
Dumbledore stood up and, much to Severus' surprise, embraced him like he would have embraced a son.
"Take care of her", Dumbledore said as he walked away.
That night was wild.
Fiddler usually never took the initiative, but that night she did, and Severus couldn't, for the life of him, remember a time when he'd felt so aroused, so astonished and so very satisfied in his life. They had jerked frenziedly, rolling over one another, chests heaving, groaning and whispering with anticipated anxiety until everything around them exploded with fierce pleasure, Fiddler arching against him, possessiveness surrounding them, as they chanted they affirmation together.
And, as Severus lay in bed, panting, holding an equally exhausted Fiddler in his arms, his back still aching from the raking of her fingernails on it, he thought rather wickedly he didn't know whom did he want to win the battle…
If the tender woman or the wild Banshee…
For both looked quite appealing to him.