Severus Snape survived the war.
He was gravely injured after Nagini's attack that nearly ripped his vocal cords into shreds of nothing. It took him months to regain his voice after an intense amount of therapy. His voice no longer held that smooth, baritone touch. Rather, it had a rough and raspy quality but that did not impede the manner he delivered sarcastic, borderline cruel comments on anyone who crossed his path. The thick, jagged scars on his neck were a fearsome sight to behold. Anyone who stared too long could immediately feel the stinging hex slapped across their wrists.
The war had not softened Severus the slightest bit or so he believes. Past students who tried to visit him in St Mungo's hospital would regret having an ounce of sympathy for their potion Professor. His acerbic tongue would either drive his visitors to tears or with a fuelling rage that they stormed out of his ward.
He remained a caustic man, bent on being alone for the rest of his life.
Severus lived quietly in his home in Spinner's End. Only two visitors dared to come monthly – Minerva McGonagall who could withstand his temperament and Poppy Pomfrey who was tasked to check on his recovery.
That morning, Severus woke up with a headache. His body was fatigued after spending the entire night raked with uncontrollable coughing fits. It was an aftermath of his injuries that parched his throat to the extreme, leaving him with dry coughs that worsened when night falls. He swung his legs across the bed, sitting on the edge. Exhaling a shallow breath, Severus pushed himself up to stand before walking toward the adjacent bathroom.
It was cramped and bare; fixed with a rectangular mirror, a sink, a toilet and a shower. The lightbulb above had blown for a period of time which Severus found too much of a hassle to change. He looked up at the mirror and studied his gaunt features. The dark circles underneath his eyes were prominent as were the jutting cheekbones, highlighting the weight loss he suffered throughout his years as a spy. His thin lips were chapped, cracked with fissures of blood. He ran a hand down his hair, tutting softly at how greasy it had become overnight.
Severus looked worse for wear. Truth to be told, he never expected to live past the war. It was to his surprise that Neville Longbottom had managed to kill the damnable snake before all of her poison seeped into his injury. The Dark Lord's little pet had a magical signature that could kill anyone it had sunk its fang in but its early death resulted in the diminution of the poison's potency. Once dead, the poison no longer became lethal.
So, Severus lived.
He wondered how long till his spite would drive Hogwarts' Headmistress out of his house and how long before Pomfrey would declare he was healthy and trouble herself no more to visit him. When they are gone, Severus would take his own life. There was nothing to live for.
With a long-suffering sigh, he eased himself away from the mirror and entered the shower where the cold water doused his more miserable thoughts.
Minerva McGonagall hurriedly put on her glasses when the delivery owl swooped down to her desk, carrying the Daily Prophet. She deposited a Knut in the small pouch tied to the owl's leg before shooing the creature away.
The owl hooted indignantly, flying off leaving the headmistress to scan the headlines plastered across the paper.
Her eyes grew wider as she read on:
MARRIAGE LAW UNVEILED
All British citizens of the Wizarding World, aged eighteen to sixty-five would be paired off with a partner of the opposite sex to marry (details are on the next page). This effort was meant to drive the population size up. An imperative measure, given that the population had shrunk due to the large-scale death rate brought upon by the devastating effects of the Second Wizarding War. With this law, the British Ministry hoped to curtail the foreseeable bleak future where the wizarding population would rapidly dwindle.
Wizards and witches that meet the criteria stated below would automatically be included and will be duly informed of their options via post within the week. Any opposition to the law would be dealt with harsh punishment, heavy fines and an imprisonment term in Azkaban.
The policy was crafted with the citizens' benefits in mind, to avoid the catastrophic change that could threaten the existence of our Wizarding World.
Children are a blessing to our society as we recover from the war to become stronger and more productive as a nation.
"Merlin's bloody bollocks," Minerva whispered to herself in disbelief. She had heard rumours of an upcoming law decree from others, former students working in the Ministry. It was a drastic measure indeed but was the so-called 'catastrophe' an exaggeration? The news should not have been this shocking but to see it splattered in black ink across the papers made the Headmistress instantly think of the one wizard that would incessantly protest till his throat ran hoarse.
She transfigured her robes into appropriate Muggle wear before apparating to the nearest park in Cokeworth. She smoothened down her dress, peeking out of the thickets of bushes that had not been trimmed for years. Once assured that no Muggles were at sight, Minerva quietly strode to the rows of brick houses, most in a dire state with broken windows and accumulated dirt. The Headmistress wrinkled her nose in distaste when the faint stench of rotten fish drifted as she passed by the river littered with rubbish, noting that she would be reaching Severus' house soon enough.
Minerva stood in front of a wooden door.
"Severus," she called, knocking.
Soft footfalls were heard before the door creaked open.
The tall wizard raised a curious brow.
"It hasn't been a month," Severus muttered in an annoyed tone.
Minerva crossed her arms.
"Well? Are you inviting me in?"
"No," he said before slamming the door shut in the older witch's face.
Minerva spluttered in surprise before her face turned a shade of red. "Severus Snape! You better let me in this instant!" Her fist thumped against the wooden door, threatening to take it off the hinges.
"Come back in a month!" A raspy voice bellowed back.
"Oh, for the love of Merlin! Open the door right now! It's terribly important! Otherwise, you'll find yourself with a wife sometime next week!" Minerva shouted.
Silence fell.
The door swung open.
"What?" Severus hissed, a deep scowl etched on his features.
A hint of a smirk pulled the corners of Minerva's lips. "You heard me right. A wife for you, Severus Snape."
His dark eyes narrowed. "I swear, woman. If you dare –"
"Ministry mandated," Minerva cut in just as quickly.
The scowl did not abate. It grew to an unpleasant sneer before Severus beckoned for the witch to enter. He silently gestured for Minerva to take a sit before walking ahead to the kitchen archway to prepare tea service.
She took a seat in the worn-out leather armchair, eyes surreptitiously catching the clutter all over his coffee table. Heaps of old newspapers and Potions editorials stacked atop each other, unopened letters sprawled messily. Those were not there when she visited two weeks ago. It occurred to the older witch that her former colleague was sinking into depression.
Each time Minerva visited, she took notice of how unkempt Severus became. First was the greasy hair that became too long, and then came the unshaven beard and the apparent weight loss. She would gently remind him to take care of himself which was met with some resistance but he did listen. Although lately, it seemed that he reverted back to his old habits. She did try to persuade Severus to take back his old job, with the promise of better benefits and an increased salary but he blatantly refused. She did not push further and in hindsight, she should have.
Severus returned to the living room with a small tray. A whispered spell righted the mess on the table allowing ample space for him to place the tea service.
"Help yourself," he murmured, taking hold of his own cup and settling into an identical armchair.
Minerva busied herself, dropping two sugar cubes and a dash of milk into her tea. She brought the cup to her lips and sipped.
"I assume a marriage law of some sorts is in place," Severus began.
Minerva nodded.
Severus sighed, rubbing between his brows. "Whose initiative is this?"
"Does it matter?"
"It does. I'll refute it," Severus said with quiet determination.
"My sources tell me the Minister himself agreed to it. The whole force is at play here, Severus. They seek full compliance from the general population. They will not pander to your dissent."
"Do you agree with this legislation?" He asked.
Minerva scoffed. "Of course not! It's archaic. The whole idea is farcical and I believe it will be taken down soon enough. With apologies might I add for causing distress."
Severus frowned. "You just said the Ministry would not back down so easily."
"Yes, if it's one person, Severus. There must be disputes arising from this. People would be angry, perhaps even disappointed at the new government. Give it time," Minerva assured.
Severus nodded.
"I trust you," he added quietly.
After Minerva's unwelcome intrusion, Severus put up a magical barrier around his house to warn him of anyone with a magical signature within meters of his compound. He would not be caught off guard once more and would find a way to get rid of the unwanted party before they even had a chance to knock on his door.
A week later, the alerts were pinging off.
Severus grumbled under his breath and strode quickly to his main door. He peeked through the peephole and frowned.
It was neither Minerva nor Poppy.
Behind his door was a woman, in her mid-thirties with long brown curls tumbling down her chest. The first thing Severus noticed were her eyes framed with long lashes. It reminded him of someone he knew, brown eyes that reflected swirls of golden honey. She wore neatly pressed robes of expensive silks and seemed to be waiting around nervously, having pulled her bottom lips between her teeth, chewing on already peeling skin.
"Leave!" He bellowed, seeing her jolt in surprise.
The woman cleared her throat, "Mr Snape? Mr Severus Snape?"
"What do you want?" Severus snapped.
"Uh, I sent a letter two days ago. Could we – could we talk?"
Severus did not care enough to open any of his letters and neither did he recognise the woman before him. He could never forget a face and considering the fact that he had taught most of wizarding England since the age of twenty-one, an unfamiliar face meant trouble.
"No. Fuck off."
The hurt on her face was clear before she quickly shook the expression away. There was fiery determination set in her eyes. "I have nowhere else to go, sir. I do not feel safe. Please."
Severus did not understand why her words, perhaps the helplessness in her voice drew him in. He too had those moments of weakness far too frequent in recent days.
"State your name and purpose," he said in a clinical tone.
The woman breathed out. "Emilia Rosier, sir. If my name sounded familiar, it is because I'm one of your options as a prospective wife."
The name struck into his brain like a lightning bolt not because Severus bothered to read the official Ministry letter that came days ago. The name came to him because he knew of a Death Eater, Evan Rosier, currently rotting in Azkaban for the worst of his crimes.
A thought clicked in his mind.
Her eyes. Their eyes, in fact, were the same.
Severus withdrew his wand before carefully turning the knob.
He was met face to face with Emilia Rosier.
"Hello," she said politely.
"Give me your wand."
"What?"
"Give it."
Emilia stepped back. A frown creased in between her brows when her eyes caught his wand pointing at her.
"No. You do know that's socially unconventional, unacceptable even. Besides, I mean no harm, Severus."
Severus rolled his shoulders uncomfortably when she called him by his name. Why was she so familiar with him?
"How are you related to Evan Rosier?"
Emilia sighed. "He's my twin brother."
Confusion was reflected on Severus' face. The whole time he knew of Evan Rosier, he had never once mentioned a twin or a sister. Fair enough, Severus had met him during Death Eaters revels which would cease the need for courteous introductions when torturing and killing were on the table.
"You do know that –"
Emilia nodded. "Yes. He's imprisoned for life in Azkaban and there's nothing I could do to mitigate the sentence."
The light in her eyes dimmed. She sighed once more. "Now that has come to light, I doubt you would consider me. Have a good day, Severus," she said quietly before turning around.
"You said you were in danger, Rosier," Severus called out. He did not know why that concerned him.
Emilia threw a glance over her shoulder. "Now that's not a problem of yours, is it? I'll be fine."
Severus was unconvinced. "I sure hope you do not die as you make your way home."
She shrugged. "Don't have a home. Not anymore."
"Why?" He asked.
"It's gone. Burnt down."
Severus exhaled. He felt an ounce of pity for the woman.
It was one reason why he refused to buy property in the Wizarding World. There were some indignant protests when he managed to escape the trials and there was no telling when someone would exact their revenge.
"Do come in."
"I don't wish to trouble."
"I do not assent to requests easily."
Emilia sat quietly on the same armchair Minerva occupied a week ago. She sat as still as a statue, mimicking the perfect decorum of a lady with legs crossed at the knees and hands resting atop of said knee.
Severus raised his brow at the peculiarity of her action.
"I'm from Beauxbaton," Emilia justified.
"Ah."
That explains why she was unfamiliar. Severus too took his seat. He did not serve tea.
"Well?"
Emilia cleared her throat. "I was wondering if you could be my husband. I –"
"Absolutely not," Severus interjected curtly.
"My choices are limited –"
"It is not my problem."
Emilia pressed her lips together, controlling herself from exploding. The wizard was clearly infuriating. "I do not know anyone –"
"Again, nothing to do with me."
"Please!" She whispered-shouted, releasing a burst of magic that shattered the used tea cups into smithereens.
A flyaway shard cut her finger and she quickly brought her hand close to her chest.
"I'm sorry," Emilia muttered.
Severus' frown deepened. He was unfazed, clearing away the mess with a flick of his wand. But, a witch unable to control her magic like an underage child would surely be disruptive and most likely have a volatile personality. His eyes travelled to her bleeding finger and with a whispered spell, the cut was healed.
Emilia exhaled a deep breath, meeting his gaze squarely. "As I've said, I don't wish to trouble. If you can't listen to any of my words, I will be on my way. Thank you."
With that, she rose to her feet, nodded politely and left without another word.
Severus did not sleep a wink when night fell, tossing and turning around his bed. His coughs did not subside but it did not bother him as much as the woman that visited him earlier that afternoon.
He groaned, sitting up against the headboard, running a free hand down his face. He took the small clock from his bedside table and saw that it was two in the morning.
He detested the very fact that his thoughts were plagued with Emilia Rosier and her damnable eyes. Questions about who she was. Questions of her past. Whether she was ever involved with dark activities and most importantly who were the other options in her Ministry alloted candidates and why did she seek him out of all people.
With a grunt, Severus stood from his bed and walked the short distance to his desk. Insomnia had set in and sleep would be impossible. His throat was scratchy and the scars on his neck were painfully itchy and sensitive. He plopped down on his seat, reaching for the pitcher filled with water, trying to pour a glass but his hand was shaking badly that he spilled.
Severus winced, hating how much his body trembled whenever he was exhausted. He flexed his hand, opening and closing his fist to ease the tremor. It was a side effect of suffering under the Cruciatus Curse for years on end that he never spoke to Poppy about. With a frustrated growl, he shoved everything on his table, breaking the glass and spilling all its contents. The parchments on his desk were left soaked.
Sighing deeply, he cleared the mess.
Then, Severus received the fright of his life when his owl swooped in from the window, landing on his table.
"Bloody Merlin!" He gasped, clutching at his heart.
Oats hooted softly, almost apologetically to her owner. She hopped into Severus' palm, beak lightly prodding his thumb.
"You nearly killed me," Severus berated, but his tone held no bite. He lightly ruffled her feathers when Oats hooted once more.
"What is it?"
Oats jerked her head to the cream coloured envelope, embossed with the British Wizarding Ministry crest, urging her owner to open that particular letter.
"Later," he muttered, earning a nip on his wrist, leaving a red welt. Severus grumbled. "Fine, you insufferable owl."
He took the sharp letter opener and sliced the envelope open. He spared a glance at Oats, seeing her hopping around excitedly tugging the corners of his lips.
"Eager, aren't you?"
Severus unfurled the letter. His eyes immediately narrowed at the four names situated at the end, ignoring other details. Although he did briefly catch the requirements needed to fulfill the marriage law.
Alecto Carrow
Cho Chang
Emilia Rosier
Hermione Granger
"Oh, for fuck's sake."
Severus' lips curled in disgust, noting just how limited his options were. Two past students, barely legal. The Gryffindor was annoying. The Ravenclaw was another of Potter's love interests. He will not be reduced to a pervert that pried on his young female students. That would add to the unending list of things he could be killed for. Alecto Carrow was an ex- Death Eater that managed to evade Azkaban, cleverly citing that she had been Imperiused by her brother. Severus knew first hand what a crazy, sadistic bitch she was. Second only to Bellatrix Lestrange.
Severus' index finger tapped on the remaining name.
Emilia Rosier, the unknown witch.
The only information he had of her was that she went to Beauxbaton, and had impeccable manners till that was disproved by her burst of unbridled magic. And she had a brother, a twin, imprisoned.
It was as if someone in the Ministry was playing a joke on him. A person who had a grudge against him — that was not impossible — chose to become a matchmaker just to make his life miserable.
Severus sighed, leaning back.
It would be futile to fight against the government. His status as an in-between; a member of the Order and a Death Eater would attract unwanted attention should he not comply like a dutiful citizen. The law might cost his freedom but remembering what Minerva had mentioned, it would be worth holding back.
A divorce would be imminent once the law crashed and burned right before the Ministry's eyes. Thereafter, Severus could live his life the way he wanted — alone and not be affected one bit.
Oats flew to perch on his shoulder, careening his raven hair, separating the strands. It was a form of affection his pet gave whenever she sensed that Severus was stressed. A habit that she enjoyed since the wizard was a child.
"What do you think?" He asked his owl quietly.
When Oats did not answer, Severus rolled his eyes, scoffing. "Gone a bit nutty, haven't I?"
A squawk answered him. He chuckled.
"Guess you agree."
Then, a loud crash was heard from outside.
Severus bolted to his feet causing Oats to flutter her wings in panic before flying out to safety. He wasted no time, sprinting out of his bedroom to the front door.
Wand at a ready, he swung his door open to only meet a panicked looking Emilia.
"What the –"
"Severus!" She gasped before her eyes rolled back. Her head tipped backwards and her body followed suit, collapsing.
Severus lurched forward, pulling Emilia into his chest. He staggered slightly, caught off balance by her weight pressing upon him. With a low grunt, he scooped Emilia up into his arms.
Severus peered outside, eyes sharp, surveying for any hint of danger. Once assured, he went back into his house and the door closed behind him with a soft click.
The magical barrier was reinstated, keeping them safe.
He entered his bedroom, gently depositing the incapacitated witch on his mattress. He carefully slid his hand from the back of her head onto the soft pillow.
Under the light, Severus could see that Emilia's features were marred with injuries. Her cheeks reddened and swollen as if slapped repeatedly, with a fresh bruise on her left cheekbone. There was blood trickling down the side of her lips and upon closer inspection, Severus realised that she suffered a split lip.
Her robes were torn and tattered, exposing her modesty. Severus hurriedly covered her with his blanket, ashamed that he had seen more of her body than she could have possibly intended.
A line creased in between the wizard's brow.
What happened to Emilia Rosier in the last several hours after she left?