Odd Thoughts
"Ah… Severus." Lucius smiled at his old friend, but the expression did not reach his eyes. "You've been keeping secrets."
"Everyone keeps secrets, Lucius."
"True, but not ones of this magnitude… not from Our Lord. He's not happy with you at the moment."
"Finding something about me to complain about it one of his joys in life. Who am I to deny him the pleasure?" He kept his voice calm even as his mind worked feverishly to weave a plausible deception. Voldemort, curse his scaly hide, could tell when someone was lying to him. Therefore, the trick to maintaining his secret was to give the man the truth, though perhaps not exactly cut and dried.
"A daughter; and such a comely one at that. It's a pity she and Draco didn't hit it off. It would have been nice to finally be able to formally unite our families." Malfoy matched his steps as they walked down the long hallway of the abandoned stone keep the Death Eaters were currently using as their headquarters. Even when they wore their masks, Severus could always tell which one was Lucius Malfoy. The sickening, too-rich scent of his hideously expensive cologne, concocted just for him by an elderly alchemist in Paris, was as clear as a fingerprint. That, coupled with his cocky, holier-than-though strut, set him apart from other men. Even when they had been students at school, Severus had been only just able to stomach the man.
"Well intentioned though you may be, Lucius, Antigone is entirely wrong for your son. I fear my daughter is too headstrong to be a proper wife to a Malfoy. They would have ended up killing one another within a year." They paused before the newly repaired door leading to Voldemort's temporary throne room.
"Ah, then she takes after you." Lucius raised one black clad hand and rapped on the door three times. "Pity."
The door swung open, hardly making a sound on ancient hinges that should no longer work. The Dark Lord, pale and thin, looked up from a table upon which was spread a map, charmed so that the landscape was projected upwards like something out of a Muggle movie. Red, snake-like eyes peered out from underneath a dark hood. "Ahhh…. Severus. So kind of you to make an appearance."
Severus bowed low. "I came as soon as I was called, My Lord."
"Yes, so you did." Voldemort stood up straight and came around the table towards Severus and Lucius. His robes whispered softly as he moved, so softly that the scratching of Nagini's scales on the stone floor as she slithered beside him nearly drowned them out. Severus waited until a cold hand touched his shoulder, a sign that he could stand up himself. "Lucius has told me a most interesting tale, Severus. It seems that you have been keeping secrets from us, your family."
"Only those which would either be an embarrassment or would be a cause of undeserving concern, My Lord." He kept his voice clam, respectful. Life had taught him to keep his emotions in check. Lucius may look like a statue of ice, but Severus could put forth the appearance of being completely frozen, through and through.
"And under which category does the girl fall?'
"The former, My Lord."
"Really?" Surprise was evident in the wizard's voice. "I was under the impression that she was rather brilliant, even a challenge for that Mudblood Lucius is always complaining about. A Quidditch player as well. What is there to be embarrassed about? Other than the obvious fault of being born a girl, she sounds like just the type of child a wizard would want."
Give him the truth, but not as the truth necessarily is. "I am sorry to say, My Lord, that she is not truly a Pure Blood." He allowed his eyes to flicker a bit. "Her mother was… a youthful indiscretion. A Mudblood, clever and powerful, but still inferior."
Malfoy made a sound that was very much like a snort, tinged with disgust. Voldemort, however, did not look at all concerned. "I see. Yes, I do see." A strange kind of half smile twisted one side of a lipless mouth. "Then again, you were always one to be attracted to intellect and brilliance, rather than beauty and bloodlines. Tell me, was she at least your equal in intelligence?"
"At least, My Lord."
"Well then, we now know why the girl is as smart as I've heard. But why have you never told us of her, Severus? Why have you never made her known to us?"
"I have had little to do with the child until now. I neither knew nor cared how she turned out, until recent events brought her back into my life. After that, I realized how wrong I was to neglect my duties as a father. I fear she has several… unacceptable ideas. I thought to reeducate her before introducing her to you, My Lord." He felt the wind as it was stirred by Voldemort's robes.
"What sort of ideas, Severus?"
The answer took little thought. Antigone was his child, but she was also Hermione's, with a good deal of influence from both Potter and the Weasley boy. Doubtless she had met Arthur Weasley on more than one occasion. "That Mudbloods are as good as Purebloods. That what we are attempting to bring about would be the downfall of the Wizarding world." He saw the Dark Lord stop moving out of the corner of his eye.
"I see. Disturbing ideas, Severus. Very disturbing ideas. You are correct in that she needs such foolish fancies erased from her mind." He fell silent again, so silent that Severus could hear nothing but Malfoy's steady breathing and his own heartbeat. He wondered if Voldemort believed him, if his half-truths were enough to convince him to leave the girl be for now. The ongoing silence was ominous, until finally, "Very well, Severus, we will wait. However, we cannot wait forever." The robes rustled again as the Dark Lord turned to walk towards him, coming at a stop before Severus and looking him in the eye. "Until Halloween, Severus. You have until then to bring her around, and should you fail, she will be disposed of. Keep in mind that, were you anyone else, I would order the child destroyed now. However, you have never taken a wife, nor had an heir. I would not deny you a chance to save your only offspring."
Severus bowed low. "You are most generous, My Master." A cold, bony hand rested atop his head, and he thought for a moment how entertaining it would be if the excess of oil there stained the bastard's fingers permanently.
"You would be wise to remember that, My Servant. Now, run along home to your errant child. A daughter needs her father to shape her and keep her from developing such foolish ideas and beliefs. You have much to make up for."
It was a dismissal, and a welcomed one. Severus backed out of the room, turning around to walk forwards once the door was shut. Malfoy had made to follow him, but Voldemort had held him back. For that, he was grateful. He didn't feel like discussing the possibility of turning Tigga over to Draco for part of her 'reeducation'. Instead he made his way out of the keep and apparated into Hogsmede. There he climbed into the horseless carriage that waited behind the Three Broomsticks and let it take him back up to the school. At last 'safe', he allowed himself to sag, boneless, into the thickly padded seat.
The trip to the school was short, and he was soon extricating himself from the carriage and making his way up the stairs. As he entered the front door, he saw Minerva standing there, trying to look as though she was only studying one of the paintings. The tense posture of her shoulders gave her away. "It's all right, Minerva." Her face turned towards him, her lips pressed together so tightly that they nearly disappeared.
"What happened?"
"I have bought us some more time. He is willing to wait until Halloween for me to bring her before him. We need to be sure that she is gone from here by then."
The witch nodded, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. When she spoke, her voice was as soft as his own, although there was no one else in the entryway. "The Headmaster feels confident that he is close to figuring out the correct incantation. Sending someone forward in time is nothing to be taken lightly, but as we are returning her to her own time, it should be possible." She risked what he was sure she thought was an encouraging smile. "Not much longer, Severus, and you can reclaim your privacy."
His privacy. He nodded in agreement, but did he truly want privacy any longer? As he returned to the dungeons, footsteps echoing on the cold stone, he reflected on his life these past weeks. Would he be happier once there was no longer a pair of black eyes looking at him in class, hanging on his every word? Would he truly enjoy the absence of a steaming carafe of coffee and toast waiting on his desk every morning? Watching her as she soared through the air at the Quidditch match against Gryffindor had been more enjoyable than any game he had viewed since his own school days. He wasn't a fool. He knew that the feeling that stirred within him when he read one of her essays or watched her brew a flawless potion was pride. The pride of knowing that one day he would sire her. Though she doubtless had flaws as all people do, she was still a part of him, as much as she was a part of Hermione Granger.
He frowned as he entered his living quarters. The Granger girl was a puzzle to him. It had been far easier to deal with her on the level of just another annoying Gryffindor. It was quite something else to think of her now that he knew what part she played in his future. He shrugged out of his robes and hung them inside his wardrobe fore turning towards a full length mirror standing beside them. The reflection staring back at him was no Prince Charming. The lamentable decisions he had made in his youth, and the hard life that had followed those decisions, had aged him before his time. He could pass for an uncle, or even father, of those he attended school with more than twenty years ago. His constant habit of frowning had given him deep furrows in his brow and flanking his mouth, and too many fights with not enough time to patch himself up afterwards and left his nose crooked beyond even magical repair. Even his smile was all wrong. Too many years of coffee and strong tea and not enough time spent on cleaning charms.
What was there about him that could possibly attract a pretty, vivacious creature such as Hermione Granger? With the exception of a shared love of learning, they had nothing in common. If the proof of their future bond wasn't presently within the castle, warm and alive and able to drive the stoutest teacher mad with a single spell, he would refuse to believe it possible. He had long ago given up hope that he would have something so normal, so happy as a family he could call his own. As he stood there, glaring at his own aged image, he had to admit that Tigga was more to him than just a daughter he would one day have.
She was a living symbol of hope.
The thought banished the scowl from his face. He took a deep breath and ran a hand over his lank hair. He should get a shower in before bed, strip some of the excess oil from his skin and hair, but at the moment he felt the urge to look in on his child. He had precious little time to spend with her, and after Albus sent her back, it would be years before she was old enough to interest him. The thought that he might find joy in the simple act of watching an infant grow to the age of fifteen never even crossed his mind as he went over to the door that separated the magically created room from the rest of his quarters. The door opened soundlessly on magical hinges, allowing the flickering light from the lamps to flood into the tiny room and illuminate an empty bed.
A moment's panicked gripped him. Why wasn't she in her bed, sound asleep as she should be? A brief vision of Deatheaters dragging his daughter away after having lured him from her side ripped through his mind before he forced himself back under control. They would have never been able to get her out of the castle. He worried demeanor instantly changed to annoyance as he reached underneath his shirt collar and pulled out a crystal suspended on a silken chord. "Show me."
The crystal began to glow from within, and then spun out beams of light that began to wind and twist themselves into a map of the Hogwarts dungeons. As though he were following a tiny, unseen figure, the scene began to move, the map reforming as it traveled down corridors and up stairwells. As it continued to travel upwards, his feeling of annoyance intensified. Once the map had scrolled past the floor where the library was held, he was certain of his daughter's whereabouts. He waited only just long enough for the map to sketch out the interior of Gryffindor tower, highlighting Antigone's location, before dismissing the spell and walking towards the door.
~***~
Hermione was never the heaviest of sleepers, one of the reasons she had always argued steadfastly against sharing bed space with her cousins during family gatherings. It wasn't that she disliked her cousins. It was that she disliked the fact that they had a tendency to kick in their sleep, or snore, or talk or some other annoying thing that would wake her up time and time again. In truth, if Antigone hadn't been so upset upon arriving in Gryffindor Tower, she would have escorted her back to Snape's quarters and just held her hand until she fell asleep, maybe finding a comfy chair to await the professor's arrival before returning to her own bed. But Antigone had been upset, terribly so, and with good reason. Hermione just hadn't had the heart to turn her away.
Luckily, it appeared that Antigone was one of those rare people who 'slept like the dead'. The moment she had finally succumbed to sleep, she had remained in exactly the same position, not twitching so much as a fingertip. Her breathing was deep, but nearly soundless and blissfully free of snores. Her legs remained exactly where they had been placed before she fell asleep, not even so much as a twitch within them. All in all, it was rather like having a life sized teddy bear, only without the fur and possessing a normal body temperature, and acting as a sort of low grade space heater.
I wonder if Professor Snape sleeps the same way. The moment the thought had formed in her head, Hermione was mortified at her own mental processes. She couldn't believe she had just been contemplating what it would be like to sleep next to her teacher! And not just any teacher, but the dreaded Potions Master.
But you obviously do at some point in the future. You're presently snuggled up to the proof.
Hermione silenced her 'inner voice' and refused to admit that she was 'snuggled up' to anyone. True, her head was resting on Antigone's shoulder, but that was mainly because the bed wasn't truly long enough for the girl, forcing her to sort of bend at the waist to keep her feet from hanging off the edge, or crook her knees up and thereby crowding Hermione. Since she knew that the girl was only a fifth year, she sincerely hoped that she was close to stopping in the growth department. Antigone was already taller than most boys her age. Any taller and Hermione feared that her daughter would find it very difficult to meet some nice boy one day.
Listen to me! I'm thinking like an overprotective mother! Although she had, on some simplistic level, accepted the fact that Antigone was her daughter, or would be, she had trouble fully wrapping her mind around it. She supposed that the main obstacle was that she, Hermione, hadn't actually given birth yet. She hadn't even ever participated in the act that was required in order to give birth to a child. It was rather confusing to think of a person as being your child when you were still a virgin. Perhaps that was why she felt more like a friend to the other girl, rather than a parent.
Well, I certainly hope I get over that problem in the future. She'll walk all over me, otherwise. She had noted a rather lamentable tendency towards high spiritedness in Antigone Snape. Since she knew she wasn't given to such behavior, and it was highly doubtful that Snape was, she could only surmise that Harry and Ron must play a big part in her daughter's life. I bet they go out of their way to teach her every sneaky, underhanded trick in the book to play on her father. She said that Harry put her up to transfiguring Snape's underwear.
She managed not to giggle at the memory. The thought of Snape being forced to wear skin tight, red Speedos was enough to send her into hysterics. She could almost picture his scowling displeasure. At least he would be able to hide them underneath his clothing.
Still, the thought of the day she would bring a child into this world, a child that was half Snape, made her wonder just what event in the future would lead her to pledging her life to someone like Severus Snape. I know he's not a Deatheater any longer, though I don't know what possessed the Headmaster to let him go back to spying. He's very brave to do it, though. He would have made an excellent Gryffindor. Not that she'd ever tell him that, of course. And she had to admit that he had a fine mind. She also suspected that he had an excellent library, though she did not think herself shallow enough that she would marry a man for his library. Well, maybe if it was a very good library.
The sound of the door to the fifth year girls' dormitory creaking open drew her attention. She lay motionless in her bed, Antigone still unmoving by her side. She figured it was probably Professor McGonagall making a bed check, and hoped that she wouldn't be too angry about other girl being here. Surely, considering that the professor was well aware of the circumstances, she would be more inclined to accept the situation. Was it her imagination or were there footsteps approaching her bed? Although she was quite sure neither of them would get into trouble, she still found herself screwing her eyes shut as she would have done ten years ago when she wanted the grownups to believe she was actually sleeping and not reading books underneath the covers by flashlight.
There was a slight breeze against her shoulder as the bed curtain was pulled back. She could feel the warmth of someone at her back, but whoever it was didn't speak. She felt fabric move as the person began to reach over her and she shivered as cloth brushed her shoulder. The arm paused.
"Miss Granger?"
Hermione's eyes snapped open at the silky tone of Snape's voice. She turned her head and found herself looking up into a pair of glittering, dark eyes. They held her, freezing her like an animal caught in the beams of a car's headlights. They looked at one another as he drew his arm back across her body, returning it to his side.
"How long has she been here?"
Hermione swallowed. "A few hours." She kept her voice soft, barely above a whisper. "She was upset about… your visit." She didn't dare mention Voldemort's name, not when either one of the other girls might wake up and hear them speaking. Keeping her eyes locked on Snape, she was suddenly struck by how tired he looked, how thinly stretched.
"And she came to you."
His eyes flickered to the sleeping girl who still had yet to stir. Frowning, he reached back over and gave her a
rather hard poke in the shoulder.
Antigone's body moved, but only from the force of the jab. Snape sighed and rolled his eyes. Hermione frowned, puzzled.
"What?"
"She sleeps like her grandfather. The only way to wake her would be to pick her up and give her several hard shakes." He shook his head slightly, and then met Hermione's eyes again. "I'm too tired to wrestle her back down stairs. I'm afraid you'll just have to put up with her for the rest of the night."
"It's all right. I don't mind." Hermione shifted a little so that she was laying more on her back than on her side. "Are you all right?"
Snape looked down into her eyes, his expression going thoughtful. She wondered if she might have upset him, not knowing if he cared to have people inquiring about his health, especially when the person doing the inquiring was a mere student. She was about to apologize for being nosy when he surprised her by reaching up with two of his long fingers and brushing away a stray curl she hadn't even noticed encroaching on her cheek.
"I am as well as can be expected, Miss Granger." His hand moved up and smoothed out her hair a bit more. Even though human hair had no sense of feeling, she swore she could feel each minute ridge of his skin. She didn't protest, and she wasn't frightened. She just stared up into those incredibly dark eyes.
"She was worried. We both were. It was dangerous for you to go."
She thought that the corners of his mouth might have turned up, but she could have also been imaging it. "We do what we must in these times, Miss Granger." He reached down and tugged the covers up over her shoulders, smoothing them slightly. "Tell Antigone I will expect her to join me for breakfast in the morning." He paused, as if considering something. "You are welcome to join us, if you like."
"I would, like to join you that is." It was the truth, and now she was certain that the corners of his mouth were turning upwards, if only by the smallest fraction of an inch.
"Very well. I shall endeavor to remember and request enough food for all three of us. You had best get some sleep, Miss Granger. It has been a long night for all of us." He made a movement as to bend down towards her, and then stopped himself. As though caught doing something wrong, he straightened back up, bringing his cold, classroom demeanor back to the front. "Good night, Hermione."
The Potion Mater's hands drew the bed curtains closed, blocking out the moonlight and starlight that had been flooding in just a moment ago. Hermione stared into the thick blackness, remembering the sound of her name as he had spoken it, just after he straightened back up. She couldn't be sure, of course, but she had the strangest feeling that Professor Snape had just been about to kiss her, only to catch himself at the last moment.
She heard the door open and close again, and then willed her own eyes to close. Perhaps it had been because he was blocking her view with his own body, or because the pale light coming through the window wasn't bright enough, that she hadn't noticed the pair of eyes that had been peering through a gap in another set of bed curtains. Hermione Granger had no trouble falling asleep after that, her dreams shaping into something soft and intangible, mostly featuring someone with strong arms and a good deal taller than herself. Lavender Brown, however, could not slip into slumber as easily, her mind reeling from the conversation she had just overheard.