Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.
Thank you to my Betas, Elaine and JL. Any remaining errors are my own.
Chapter 54: Recovery and Revelations
HARRY POTTER DOES IT AGAIN!
Article and Photos exclusive property of The Daily Prophet.
By Rita Skeeter
Yesterday, December 10, 1997, Harry Potter, hero of the wizarding world for the last sixteen years, once again proved himself worthy of that title. Our esteemed Ministry of Magic, which has spent the last three years assuring us it was 'doing everything possible' to protect the community, arrived only after Harry had faced You-Know-Who and emerged victorious.
"I had a lot of help, though," Harry Potter insists modestly. "My friends were a great support and if not for Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape, I'd never have been able to do it."
Albus Dumbledore, brilliant but eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts met his demise at the hand of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in September. Harry Potter insists this was a deliberate sacrifice similar to what his mother did sixteen years before. Severus Snape, 38, is currently Potions Master at Hogwarts School, though he was accused of Dark Activity shortly before Albus Dumbledore hired him amidst a cloud of suspicion nearly eighteen years ago.
Young Harry's description of the event is remarkably self-effacing.
"I didn't want to have to kill anyone. even (- - - - - - - - -). Brave young Mr. Potter freely says the name of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Prophet editors will leave you to fill in the blank. Dumbledore and Snape knew that. Snape made this brilliant potion to make it so (- - - - - - - - -) 's magic wouldn't work properly against me. I'm awful at potions; he'd have to explain it.
"Then Dumbledore made it so when I held all that energy, I could change it. I don't really know how I did that part. I suppose because I changed my intention of the magic, like one of my other Professors tried to explain to me. Anyway, when I bounced it back to him, it just sucked out his magic, but didn't kill him.
"I didn't want to be a murderer."
Having turned the Great and Evil You-Know-Who into nothing more than a Sickly Squib before lunch, Harry Potter found himself face to face with dozens of members of our illustrious Ministry of Magic. Our Ministry officials seemed to feel now the threat of You-Know-Who was gone, it was time to round up his followers in a pathetic attempt to appear to have done something meaningful.
Alastor Moody, the mad ex-Auror, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, a current Auror, arrested a dozen Death Eaters—and of course You-Know-Who himself, in the immediate aftermath of You-Know-Who's defeat.
Other Aurors and many members of the secret group known as The Order of the Phoenix, founded by Albus Dumbledore during the last war, battled Death Eaters, Giants and Dementors outside the school while valiant young Harry faced You-Know-Who within.
The Ministry has long disdained the Order of the Phoenix as 'Vigilantes who believe themselves to be above the law, or worse, a law unto themselves'. The Wizarding Public today finds itself grateful such 'Vigilantes' exist.
A photograph of Voldemort, crumpled in a sobbing heap at Harry's feet, appeared here, Moody, Kingsley, and Severus clearly visible behind Harry.
Young Mr. Potter humbly raves at length about the people who have aided him. This bit of insistence helped diffuse what promised to be a horrible scene at Hogwarts yesterday evening.
The Ministry belatedly sent a large contingent of officials to the school to begin flamboyant arrests of the already subdued Death Eaters, as though they had participated in their defeat. These officials, in the course of their blustering, attempted to arrest Professor Severus Snape in spite of the protests of the standing Headmistress and current professors, as well as those of Harry Potter. Apparently Professor Snape was being accused of being a Death Eater himself.
Here a photograph of Severus standing with an appearance of calm unconcern while Minerva and Harry apparently shouted themselves hoarse and red in the face at Ministry Officials waving documents at them.
Some semblance of calm was restored by the sudden arrival of werewolf Remus Lupin, 38, former Defense Professor and former school-mate of Professor Snape. He was blood-stained from his own heroic actions in battle but paid no attention to his own injuries as he sought to prevent further Ministry bungling.. He carried a Pensieve, and all the officials were invited to look into it, though Alastor Moody's persuasion no doubt helped speed the process along.
This Reporter was not given a glimpse of the contents of the Pensieve, so we can only guess as to the information contained within. However, the Ministry bureaucrats left the scene at once with the Pensive in hand, and The Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal Professor Severus Snape will be presented with The Order of Merlin, First Class, for bravery and heroics far above and beyond the call of duty.
The article continued in the same vein for pages, exaggerating the bungling of the Ministry and the heroism of the 'rebel vigilantes' with the colorful flair only Rita Skeeter could attain. It included numerous photographs as well. Severus was acutely dismayed to find HIS face in many of them. He did not appreciate all the extra attention it called to himself, including a tremendous volume of mail—some of which could no doubt get him into a great deal of trouble with Rowena.
Never would he have imagined the end, when it came, would be so clean and complete.
The battle outside the school grounds between Voldemort's minions and the Order of the Phoenix—and many of the students from Potter's "D.A."—was savagely fought, yet brief. There were very few injuries inside Hogwarts' walls, though the offensive did what it was intended to do and forced Voldemort to send all the forces he could spare to the counter-attack.
Additional back-up Aurors and Order personnel came to collect the Death Eaters who were trying to escape. They then drove the Dementors into the school wards as it seemed a quick and easy way to get rid of them at last. Hagrid and Grawp escorted the Giants away rather than have them be exterminated. The Ministry was not happy about that particular development, but as it did rid them of the problem of the Giants with relative ease in a chaotic situation, they turned a blind eye.
Gringotts reopened on the second day after the war and the Goblins immediately resumed business as usual, dickering over 'fair compensation' for the time it was closed and the hardship it caused. None of which prevented the Wizarding populace from spending gold extravagantly for the Christmas Holiday.
"Pappi!" Katrina squealed when he walked in the door—the front door, in the middle of the day, from the pavement below. She would have flung herself at him to be picked up, if his arms were not currently laden with packages.
"Nein, Frechdachs," he chided softly. "Severus, or Uncle Severus, remember?"
"Did you bring me presents?" she asked, ignoring him with an innocent smile.
"Now, why would I bring you presents?" he asked haughtily, and she jumped up and down, giggling.
"'Cause you helpted Harry win the war, so you're a hero. Mutti says you a'ways been a hero, but now eve'ybody else knows it too. She says we have to cele… cele… have a party," she said, talking a mile a minute.
"Mutti? Tonks said that?" he asked her with a raise of his brow. She sighed and rolled her eyes precociously.
"No, my Ro'ena. She said I could call her that. Ro'ena's hard to say."
"Hmmm, and have you bothered to tell her what it MEANS, Frechdachs?" he asked sternly. She shrugged and skipped down the hall to the drawing room.
"C'mon, we're doin' the Chris'mas tree."
Sure enough, all of the Lupins, including Becky and John, were in the drawing room. Christmas carols played over the wireless as they slowly but spectacularly transformed the room with glittering tinsel and decorations. The tree was enormous and stood in front of the window, though the Fidelius Charm would prevent onlookers from the pavement being able to appreciate the effect.
He set his packages on the table near the sofa and Katrina immediately began to go through them. She wrinkled her nose in boredom at the bottles of wine and various holiday foodstuffs, but at last gave a cry of delight as she found several presents wrapped in paper covered with a pattern of Father Christmas and his sleigh.
Rowena turned from where she stood on a low step stool, hanging an angel on a branch.
"Severus!" she cried, succeeding in throwing herself into his arms as she leapt off the stool at him, and hugged him tightly.
"All I've heard the last three days is the rubbish in the paper!" She said accusingly. "Did they really try to arrest you? I should have sent Albus' Pensieve with Remus from the start."
"Yes, they made the attempt. It was not unexpected. It is resolved." He allowed the hug briefly before primly stepping away. He greeted her more warmly—and more privately—through the Bond. He was acutely aware of Remus and Tonks exchanging knowing looks and deliberately trying not to look at them.
Becky was setting out cheese and crackers and various fruits and finger-foods on a long table she had brought into the room for the purpose. John Lupin was surveying his family with a contented smile, sitting on the other sofa in the room, which had doubled as an emergency hospital bed frequently over the previous two and a half months. They smiled a warm welcome at him, though did not interrupt their conversation.
"Why do you allow Katrina to call you 'Mutti'?" he asked.
"She asked if she could. Why? Does it matter? What does it mean?" Rowena asked curiously.
"It means mother, or more specifically mummy. I do not think it is wise to…"
"Severus, mate, it doesn't matter to us what she calls you, why make a fuss?" Remus cut in, unable to pretend he hadn't overheard. "It's Christmas. Open one of those bottles of wine and come help us decorate the tree."
"Why not use magic to hang them? It would be far more expeditious," Severus said, though he did retrieve the wine bottles and summon glasses. John came over to help distribute them and clasped him briefly on the shoulder in silent greeting.
"Faster, sure, but not nearly so much fun," said Remus, smiling.
"And it doesn't pay any attention to the artistry of the end creation," Rowena said, grinning at him and selecting another ornament from a huge chest. She looked at the ornament carefully, then stood back and regarded the tree with equal intensity. At last she seemed to select a branch which met her approval, and hung the ornament. "You see? There's aesthetics involved as well."
Remus burst out laughing.
"Artistry? Aesthetics? Rowena, what are you on about?"
"Shh, Remus, you'll spoil the secret," Rowena said, laughing. "He won't participate if he thinks it's just for 'fun'. You have to make him think it's work, the more odious the better, with a specifically defined goal—then he might do it."
Severus smirked at this interesting if fairly accurate perception of his character. Just to prove her wrong, he selected an ornament from the box—and hung it.
The tree was decorated, the fire burning low, and Katrina had fallen asleep on one of the squashy chairs. Her insistence to be allowed to open her presents now, rather than wait until Christmas, had been steadfastly refused. No amount of pouting or eyelash batting altered the outcome, though apparently the attempt eventually fatigued her. Remus carried her upstairs while the three women gathered the remains of the food and dishes and headed to the kitchen.
John Lupin seemed to be waiting for an opportunity to speak with Severus alone, and did not waste this one.
"How are you doing, Severus?" he asked; and his gentle but 'professional' tone suggested the inquiry was not an idle one, but specific to his health.
"I am quite recovered, Mr. Lupin, I thank you," he replied very formally. He was suddenly acutely aware that Rowena was this man's daughter and he was likely due for some sort of fatherly 'talk'—or rather long OVER-due considering their history.
He was not incorrect in this assumption.
"I am glad to hear it. The sorts of injuries you've sustained, well, sometimes there are residual problems for years afterwards. You let me know if you are having any trouble, you hear?" John said, still fully in his 'Healer' mode.
"Yes, sir," Severus said respectfully. He had not missed the echoing formality in the Lupin patriarch's tone, nor the fact the gregariously friendly man had not insisted yet again for Severus to call him 'John'.
Severus was intimately aware of the 'residual problems' of which the man spoke. He had long lived with the constant ache of abused muscles and joints caused by the after effects of the Cruciatus curse. Rowena's spell had eased that tremendously, but it was not the only source of discomfort. His innate stoicism developed from a lifetime of physical pain and abuse made these problems seem very minor.
John Lupin's shift from 'Healer' to 'Father' was instantaneous and almost visible.
"I see my daughter again wears your ring. I believe congratulations are in order."
"Thank you. I assure you I am profoundly aware of my good fortune," Severus said cautiously. "I believe tradition suggests I ought to have asked your permission…"
John interrupted him with a wave of his hand.
"You know enough of my daughter by now to know nothing I could say would alter her choice. She'd probably hex us both if she thought I was insisting on such a thing."
Severus smirked in agreement, but remained silent and attentive.
"On the other hand, I won't deny I'm concerned about her. She's been through a great deal in the past year after living a relatively quiet and sheltered life before. She's sacrificed a lot. I don't want to see her hurt anymore."
"Then our goals are the same, Mr. Lupin," Severus said, gravely meeting the friendly brown eyes of the other man. "I would not knowingly cause or allow hurt to be caused to her if there was any way I could prevent it."
John offered a sad smile, which immediately set off alarms for Severus, so his black eyes bored into the older man intently.
"Sometimes there are hurts we can't prevent, though, aren't there?" John said regretfully. "She let me run some diagnostics today, just to see how well she had recovered from her ordeal in October."
A muscle jumped in Severus' tightly clenched jaw, but he made no move to interrupt the other man.
"She seems to have recovered perfectly—except for one thing, which she insists is 'no big deal'. There's quite a bit of scar tissue in the fallopian tubes. I don't know how complete the damage is, but I think it's very likely she is sterile."
Severus sat in rigid silence. The gravity of John Lupin's countenance had caused him to fear something life threatening, so he was greatly relieved it was not. On the other hand, in spite of all her assurances to the contrary, he had seen enough of her interaction with children to know she had hoped to have children of her own. Indeed, if he was completely honest with himself, he had lately come to consider the possibility of children with less distaste than ever before.
His life was full of such ironies—to realize he wanted a thing just when the thing became beyond his grasp.
"I understand."
John nodded and stood up. He paused on his way out of the room to clasp Severus' shoulder again.
"Rowena is as happy as I've ever seen her. I know she loves you and I know how hard you've tried to protect her. You kids deserve to move on and leave all this nastiness behind you. I'm sorry this shadow had to fall across your happiness now. She may be a grown woman, strong-willed as they come, but she's still my little girl. I want her to have the best 'happily ever after' possible."
He didn't wait for Severus' response, but left the room quickly to leave the young man some privacy.
Late that night she sat curled up against him on the sofa, contentedly leaning her head against his shoulder. She felt sleepy and mellow from the wine and the celebrating. She had enjoyed spending the evening with all her family and Severus very much. He exchanged pointed barbs with her brother, but by now everyone had come to accept his snark as a part of him, so it was a source of humor rather than pain. It was almost cozy.
It was also a strange feeling to not have the war to worry about anymore.
"What happened to Lucius?" she asked sleepily, as he indulgently answered her questions piecing together the end days.
"He was one of the Death Eaters Kissed by the Dementors when they became uncontrollable after Voldemort was defeated," he said. She gasped at the name and trembled. "Voldemort is worse than dead, Rowena. Even I do not fear there is any possibility he will come back. There is no fear in the Name anymore. I will no longer give him even that much power over me.
"The Dementors sensed his loss of power at once," he continued, returning to his answer of her question. "It is likely they assumed he was dead. Without his power to control them, they turned their feeding frenzy onto friend and foe alike. The Giants were unaware of his loss of power, so they held their lines. Many of the Death Eaters within their perimeter were trapped with the Dementors when their former 'allies' suddenly turned on them.
"Had Hagrid not arrived with his brother, it is likely they all would have been Kissed before anyone could get through to subdue the Dementors."
"What did Grawp do?"
"Spoke to the Giants, translating. He and Hagrid convinced them Voldemort was defeated, rounded them up and led them off. No doubt Hagrid is having a celebratory homecoming with them in a cozy cave somewhere in the mountains," Severus said dryly.
"Oh, dear! I'll bet the Ministry loved that!"
Severus snorted, "Believe me, at the time, all was chaos. No one there at the moment cared a Knarl's arse what those Giants did, as long as they weren't fighting. By the time the Ministry knew what happened, they were gone. Hagrid may have some legal challenges when he returns, but no doubt our favorite Old Meddler made contingency plans for that as well."
"And You-Know-Who is really defeated?" she asked, tremulously. "I have to admit, I'd feel better if he was dead."
"Did you see the photo? His body was very weak. All his strength came from magic—potions, charms, glamours, a constant battle to keep the physical body healthy enough to survive. Without magic to sustain him, he would be dead. I believe the Ministry intends to keep him in excellent health—considering the inferiority of his physical form—so he will have a good, long time to survive as a Muggle. There is no hope for cure, his magic has been obliterated."
He pulled up the sleeve of his left arm and turned it over, peeling off a small bandage to reveal the area to her. There was an angry looking red mark there, blistered and oozing like a burn, as though he might have brushed against a hot cauldron. However, it had no shape or form, just a blob of burnt skin. When the wound healed—as it was clearly doing already—there would likely only be the faintest of scars as a reminder.
"It is finally over."
She reached out and cupped her hand under his arm, allowing her thumb to caress the skin near the burn.
"Are you upset about Lucius?" She could feel his shrug where she leaned against him, and sense his ambivalence through the Bond.
"No. Disappointed in the waste, perhaps. He had a gift for diplomacy if nothing else. Had he survived, he would easily have become almost as dangerous as Voldemort. He was content being a lackey only as long as there was someone stronger than himself. Had either he or Bellatrix Lestrange remained at large, I would not be nearly so confident in this final end of the war.
"Lucius was never my 'friend'. He was a useful ally at one time but you need not fear I have any grief or sentimentality over his loss. I would have cheerfully killed him myself if given the opportunity. This seems to be fitting. He, like Voldemort, is now worse than dead. He deserves his fate," he said firmly.
Rowena remembered the sight of Lucius transfiguring and then torturing the goat-Katrina and found she had no compassion for the ruined man herself.
"What will happen to Narcissa and Draco?" She asked, dropping her hand from his arm to circle his waist instead.
"The Malfoy fortune is theirs, of course. Draco has none of his father's innate ambition or talent for manipulation and leadership. He's had too much handed to him too easily for his entire life. He will be able to continue to buy his way into the 'right' circles, but he will never have the influence of his father. Though I doubt he will want to acknowledge me as his Godfather any more. I am certainly not afraid of any repercussions from that quarter."
She had left her hair loose and straight this evening, and he was idly toying his hand through the honey-brown strands.
"Were you planning to tell me your cowboy paramour is a homosexual?" he asked in his dangerous silken tones, smirking at her. He was rewarded for his sudden change of subject with a guilty start of surprise and a truly beautiful blush of shame which suffused her face.
"Dylan was never my 'paramour'," she protested weakly. "It wasn't for me to tell. He told me just after we broke up, the night of Remus' attack. How… how did you find out?"
"He is here. He arrived a few days before the battle with his 'partner'."
"Dylan is here? His partner? Is it Joshua?" she asked. She sat up and turned to face him fully, her eyes now sparkling with delight.
"He introduced the man as his partner and referred to him as 'Josh'," Severus said, raising a brow at her. "Is it relevant?"
"Josh was his 'fella'. He was getting married last year to a woman his family chose for him, which was why Dylan accepted the position here. He said that's why he was so easily taken in by Lucius, because this Josh looked a lot like him. Does he?"
"The resemblance is there, yes. Apparently the marriage did not take place, as they both arrived and Howard is even more revoltingly cheerful than before," Severus said dryly.
"Oh, I can't wait to meet him," Rowena said, laughing happily. "I wonder why it didn't go off? I'm very glad to hear Dylan's so well recovered from the train attack as to be able to come back and fight."
"I'm sure you will see them soon enough. They want to be invited to the wedding," he said, recapturing her hair which had slipped from his hand when she moved away.
She stopped laughing then, as she caught the intense look in his fathomless eyes, the look which always took her breath away and made her heart race.
"It seems, then, there remains only one issue to be resolved at this point," he said silkily. He tugged gently on her hair so she tilted her head back slightly. He could see her pulse fluttering in her throat and dipped his head to kiss her there. His low voice vibrated across her skin as he spoke against it. "When do you want to get married?"
"Tomorrow!" She said with breathless urgency.
"Don't be ridiculous," he said, leaning back to look at her again, smirking. "Even Molly Weasley could not organize a wedding on such short notice."
He returned to the smooth stretch of bare skin at her throat with hot, nipping kisses. He was rewarded with her soft sigh of pleasure as she leaned back against the sofa and pulled him with her.
"You agreed as soon as possible…" she said erratically. His attention to the sensitive portions of her neck and ears proved to be incredibly distracting—not terribly conducive to conversing coherently.
"Mmm, so I did," he murmured against her throat, working his way inexorably to her lips.
"We could go to the Ministry tomorrow…" she said against his lips, her words lost in his suckling kisses. He pulled back and arched a haughty brow at her.
"I am not marrying you amongst those imbeciles. It is enough we will be forced to have one of the idiots officiate." He kissed her again, more demandingly than the teasing kisses of a moment before. "Plan a wedding, Rowena—a proper one."
"But no cherubs?" she asked between kisses, giggling mischievously.
"Not if you wish me to be present," he growled, pressing her further into the sofa to do a thorough job of kissing her senseless.
"Where are we going?" she asked as they stepped out into the gray chill afternoon. Her hair was braided again and she was in her warm winter cloak of deep maroon. The vivid shade heightened the color in her cheeks, which were already becoming pink in the breeze. He had again met her at the front door of Number 12 and escorted her out into the busy streets of London in the light of day.
It was difficult not to feel nervous, or constantly feel the need to look over her shoulder. She could feel his echoing tension in the muscle of his arm beneath her hand.
"I have somewhere I wish you to see," he said evasively, though she felt an edge of anticipation through the Bond. "School has broken up for the Christmas holiday, do I need an excuse to come and see you and take you somewhere?"
"Of course not," she said smilingly. She hugged his arm to her and followed him down the steps. "It just feels odd, that's all."
"Get used to it. I insisted on secrecy for your safety. I am not ashamed of you, or of our engagement. The need for safety is gone, I will no longer hide," he said almost defiantly as they strode down the pavement toward a concealed public apparition point.
A lifetime of suspicion and subterfuge does not vanish overnight, however. She could feel his wariness and sense his eyes constantly moving about them, always watchful for potential threats. He gave any concealed doorways a wide berth, never allowed anyone to be standing behind him when they stopped to wait to cross a street, and she knew the hand of the arm she was not holding was concealed within his robes, clutching his wand.
"Well, then, are we in a hurry? I've been wanting to take you to Diagon Alley," she said. It was hard not to feel almost giddy with happiness—even through the nervousness—as though this was all a dream after the ordeal they had been through. She was almost bouncing on her toes with each step.
"We have no set schedule. What is in Diagon Alley?"
"A jeweler's shop my father recommended."
He raised a brow at her in surprise. "What jewelry do you desire? It is likely I have something suitable already."
"Not for me, Severus," she said with exasperation. "For you—your wedding ring. I've seen a few I like in the catalogs, but now we can be out and about, I'd rather you help me pick it. I'm not really sure what you'd like."
"That is entirely unnecessary," he said uncomfortably.
"No it's not. I want you to have a ring," she said stubbornly. "At the very least I want you to come so I know your tastes."
No amount of arguing would sway her, and in the end he relented. The rings she had chosen as likely candidates were tasteful; there were none which he would have refused to wear. He did refuse to make the final choice, however, wanting to leave it to her and curious as to what she would choose. She decided to be contrary and announced he would just have to wait until the wedding to be 'surprised'.
This 'brief' trip into the Alley turned into a lengthy shopping excursion as she made stops to inquire about flowers and other details for the wedding. Minerva had gladly consented to have it at Hogwarts, and this time there was no need to hide it away from the students. It would occur in the Great Hall during the Easter Holiday. Rowena refused to wait all the way until the summer holiday and for once he did not argue with her stubbornness.
They were in the alley for over an hour before she decided she was done and he could take her to his originally intended destination. He placed his hand over her fingers where they rested in the crook of his arm, and Apparated them away.
The landscape was much the same as it had been almost a year ago. The snow covered the worst of the debris, though that was not necessarily a good thing as it made walking more treacherous. Still, it gave an air of cleanliness to the ugly ruins, hiding the worst of the scorch marks and barren earth beneath a pristine blanket of glistening white.
"Where are we?" she asked, clinging tighter to his arm. He felt her trepidation and curiosity through the Bond.
"Do you see the barn?" he asked in return, gesturing to the haven he and his mother had used repeatedly in the years they had lived in the now-ruined home.
She looked in the direction he pointed and shook her head.
"I can't see it. I see the tree and roses—that took some intensive charm-work to protect them even in this weather so they would still bloom," she said, impressed. She looked up at him searchingly. "Is this your home?"
He nodded and approached the barn. Rowena's inability to see it confirmed his suspicion his mother must have somehow hidden it from his father's view. Possibly it had forgetfulness charms on it as well, so he would not recall it had been there. Not that Devin Snape would have deigned to enter the structure even if he could see it or remember its existence.
"This is where I grew up. I destroyed the house, as I told you before, when I joined the Death Eaters. I wondered why they did not question me when I left the barn alone—clearly they were unable to see it. Come," he took her by the hand and led her inside.
It was as he had left it last April. The areas he had disturbed as he looked through his mother's journal had a lighter coating of dust than the rest, but clearly no one had been in here since then. He took her through the tour of the small building, sharing the less painful snippets of his childhood as he did so.
Once they left the building, they turned back, and now she was able to see it clearly. He carefully walked her around the ruins of the building, describing how it was before the destruction.
He lingered in the winter-dead weeds of the garden, some of them peeking through the layer of snow. The garden, to him, was the greatest loss of the physical property. He and his mother had once carefully tended it. It had been abundant in rare and temperamental magical plants and herbs necessary for potion making. He felt his ties to this particular patch of ground very strongly, as the seat of most of his pleasant memories of his mother and his childhood.
"The land is good. There is plenty of space; it still has many of the privacy wards intact. I would like you to consider living here, once it has been rebuilt," he said as they stood within the warming charms which encircled the blooming tree and roses. He looked out over the ruins of the house, while she looked at the lovingly tended headstones.
"Sonja was your sister? The baby you told me about?"
"Yes."
"Would you be comfortable living here? Wouldn't it just bring up a lot of bad memories?" She asked, taking his hand and tilting her face to look up at him concernedly.
He accepted her hand and squeezed it gently, allowing himself to feel her love and concern for him through their Bond, and returning the affection with reassurance.
"I believe I have exorcised my own daemons in regards to this place. I am ready to start afresh, to take what was malignant and turn it to something benign. It is hard to imagine now, in the barrenness of winter, but it is quite aesthetically appealing in the summer."
She felt a surge of pride for him that he was able to come full circle like this and face what had once been so painful and make plans to turn it into something positive.
Her bright smile made him feel as though the sun had come from behind the silver-gray clouds.
"I'm sure it's beautiful, Severus."
"Then you consent?"
"Of course. It'll take some time to rebuild this, though, I would think," she said, stepping closer to him so she could wrap her arms around him, slipping inside his cloak to share his warmth, even though it was warm enough where they were standing.
"I was serious when I said I wanted to travel. I have already informed Minerva not to plan on me for the next school year. When the spring term ends, we will leave. I do not know if I will return to teach after that year, but I have left my options open. By the time we return, the work should be done." He welcomed her into his arms and enfolded her within them, resting his chin on the top of her head.
"You've been thinking about this a lot," she said in surprised amusement.
"It does not make sense not to plan ahead," he said loftily.
They spent the rest of the waning daylight walking about the grounds as he described in more detail his plans for the reconstruction.
The war was over, the Hogwarts Board of Governors unanimously elected Minerva McGonagall as the new Headmistress, and the school routine settled in to as near to normality as she could manage. Even the students of Death Eater parents were welcome to return to school—so long as they had not actually fought against Hogwarts in the battle.
There were, understandably, some altercations in the corridors, but nothing which could not be easily dealt with. Albus' protection seemed to act in full force in these instances, so there were rarely serious injuries, though there were often highly embarrassing mishaps. Draco Malfoy refused to return to Hogwarts, though he had not fought in the battle. He did not want to face his 'traitorous' Head of House. Severus was not sorry to see him go.
Rowena did not return to teaching as her position had been fabricated for the purposes of keeping her at the castle legitimately during the war and was no longer needed. However, she made frequent, open visits to the castle, often with Katrina in tow.
Fawkes remained in the Headmistress' office, and no one knew why. Dumbledore's portrait merely smiled mysteriously, said he had a job to do before moving on, and refused to elaborate further.
Amelia Susan Bones was elected as the new Minister for Magic, and it seemed as though the entire wizarding community breathed a sigh of relief. Her reputation as no-nonsense and above bribery preceded her. Everyone was hopeful that some common sense would begin to show itself in the Ministry.
One of her first official actions as Minister was to arrange and conduct an award ceremony at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, Alastor Moody, Minerva McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt were all awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, as well as Albus Dumbledore, posthumously.
Remus' award was primarily for leading the Order forces during the final battle, but as the Minister gave it to him, she also mentioned his role in Pettigrew's demise. Lupin's smile dimmed at once, his very expressive face revealing his discomfort. Severus knew Lupin had at last met Pettigrew face to face during the fight, and that Pettigrew was dead. He now assumed Lupin took care of that issue appropriately—as was his right considering the circumstances—and was apparently feeling some remorse as the result
Rubeus Hagrid, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Filius Flitwick, Sturgis Podmore, Nymphadora Tonks Lupin, and over twenty other Order and DA members were awarded the Order of Merlin, Second Class.
Neville's role during the final battle, in particular, had been surprising, at least to Severus.
He was solely responsible for the capture of Bellatrix Lestrange. Severus thought it was unfortunate the boy could not apply his intricate knowledge of Herbology to Potions more effectively. He might have been an adequate student.
He apparently managed to crossbreed a Mimbulous mimbletonia with Devil's Snare. He then fashioned the resultant sap-like substance into what was essentially a water-balloon full of the goo. Bellatrix was observing the melee well behind the primary lines and, as arrogant as always, wore no mask to conceal her identity. Longbottom had Potter's cloak and an inordinate amount of luck the Dementors were too focused on the battle to notice him sneaking through the lines.
Who would have thought the clumsy boy could manage to sneak silently like that?
At any rate, he hit Bellatrix with this makeshift bomb and it exploded, covering her in the sticky slop. Her first reaction, as would anyone's be, was to touch it and try to wipe it away, to see what it was. The sap had the sticky, odiferous quality of the Mimbulous, but it spread rapidly to cover any surface like the Devil's Snare. Shortly after exposure to air, it became rock-hard, effectively immobilizing its target. Longbottom would be receiving some sort of Herbology award, in addition to the Order of Merlin, Second Class for being responsible for Bellatrix' capture.
Dozens of Order of Merlin, Third Class awards were also presented, including to all the other Weasley boys, John Lupin, Rowena Lupin, and Molly and Arthur Weasley.
It was a grand event, with everyone decked out in their most formal best. Severus found the long-coveted award did not seem so valuable after all, though he accepted it gracefully. He thought perhaps the best part about the evening was that there were too many recipients for any of them to stand out in the gathering—so he was not forced to give a trite speech or to listen to anyone else doing so.
Well, no, not the best part.
The best part was openly sitting next to Rowena, who looked elegant in sky blue robes, her hair falling in gentle curls to her waist, his ring on her finger and her eyes full of love and pride for him. No longer would he have to hide her or parade her about before Death Eaters and scum. His external appearance of boredom with the proceedings concealed a great deal of contentment.
As far as a means to spend an evening went, it wasn't so bad. Certainly there were worse things.
"Absolutely not," he said in firm tones which would brook no argument. He was sitting at his desk in his lab where she had come to find him to ask him about music selections for the wedding.
"But Emmeline has a lovely singing voice. I wanted to have her sing something while we signed the Marriage certificate, like she did for Remus and Tonks," Rowena said, clearly trying to be placating. She was standing in front of his desk with a thick roll of parchment containing the musical score and lyrics for the song in question, "The Glory of Love".
"Fine. Have her sing something. Just not THAT," he said emphatically, crossing his arms and glowering.
"I don't understand you," she said in exasperation. "I like this song—it's my favorite of the ones you left me. It has so much meaning for us; it seemed like the perfect choice."
"Yes—meaning for US. Which to me implies personal and private. I wish you to be happy and have the wedding you want—the wedding you ought to have had the first time. However, I will not have my love for you cheapened by some tawdry display to leave it open for mockery."
She gasped and stared at him in shock, her eyes wide and her mouth gaping like a fish.
"What?" he asked impatiently, his tones rising in irritation, even as a sense of wondering awe washed over him through the Bond.
"You… you said you love me," she said softly.
Now it was his turn to look at her in surprise.
"Yes? Has that not been established long before now?"
"But you've never actually said it."
To him, this was baffling. Was that not the purpose of the Bond? Was that not the reason behind all of his failed attempts to protect her? Was that not the primary message in each of the syrupy songs that he had left for her? Did he really need to say it aloud?
Apparently, by the blissful expression in her eyes and the overwhelming joy he could sense from her through the Bond, the answer to that was 'yes'—at least occasionally.
He rose from his chair and walked around the desk to her. He unceremoniously plucked the parchment from her hands and threw it into the fire.
"Choose any song you like, except the four I sent you," he said firmly, his back to her. He waved his wand to make certain his wards were set on his door before turning back to her. Her delicate chin was set at a very defiant angle and he could feel her innate obstinacy rising to the occasion.
She was still torn between delight at what he had said so unconsciously and irritation at his inflexibility, when his strong, long-fingered hand cupped her chin gently. She could feel his affection through the Bond.
"Rowena, I love you."
She burst into tears, which was not at all the response he had been expecting. However, apparently these were tears of 'happiness', a concept he had yet to grasp, as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him fervently.
A/N: German translations, thanks to Lady Claire:
Nein—No
Frechdachs—rascal or brat, often used in this situation as an exasperated 'pet name' a parent might use with a child who is misbehaving
Pappi—daddy
Mutti—mummy