Disclaimer: One of these days, I fully intend to own Alan Rickman, but, until that day, I do not own him, Snape, or anything else that belongs to JK Rowling. I do own Ark and Geneva. They say hi, by the way.
Chapter 1
There are days, one must admit, when things are so drearily gray and foggy that life just seems sunny in comparison. The desire to find something large and soft to curl up in (along with a large cup of tea, woolen stockings, and a blanket) is almost unbearable and one often finds oneself peering almost endlessly out of the nearest window, somehow, in your soul of souls, feeling the growing things that breathe in the mist and dew and rejoicing in your warm surroundings. This is what normal, uncreative, pessimistic, boring people like to call a 'rainy day'. Thankfully for this story, there happened to be an entire section of the foremost Gryffindor table that was populated by people who would not call such an event a 'rainy day', though from this particular group one might be rather inclined to expect it.It was a full week before school let back in and these girls (and one boy) had been sitting at the same spot of the same table for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the past two months. This group had presided upon the school grounds for the entire summer holiday, and, what's more, of their own volition. There were, in fact, three groups in total that tended to do this, almost always a great deal smaller than the Christmas crowd, and often, less lively. The three groups were as follows:
The 'Orphans'.
This was merely a title, but not a happily deserved one, for there were always a few who had to stay at school for the summer, leave late, come early, for some depressing reason or another; usually a death in the family, a very rowdy wedding, etc. (Neville had ended up tied to this lot twice, for about two weeks) Not, on the whole, a particularly lively bunch.
The 'Intellectuals'
These were the ones who, despite Hermione's more publicized insanity, were even more anal retentive, obsessive, unbearable (often snobby), and know-it-all-ish. They were most often, unlike one of their predecessors, kept a close eye on to see that, while they read almost every book in the Library, they did not touch particular sections…might getcoughnastycoughideascough And, although "Thomas Riddle" did not come up often in conversation, it was always with a touch of reverence. The boy, legend had it, had read through the entire 'restricted' section in a single week. Quite a feat, one must admit.
The S.O.S. Society
The last of the three was definitely the least conventional, the most obsessive, and the only table that could, and would, laugh straight through breakfast and then go torture grasshoppers. The Stuck On Snape Society met every summer, all summer and had for several years. The girls (and one boy) who presently made up this group had been the ones that were honestly and truly obsessed with his royal nastiness, the ones who knew everything about their potions class but were too goggle-eyed and enchanted by their teacher to answer any questions, and the ones who, it had been honestly documented, were now up to seven different potions that had exploded, inadvertently, though the excessive addition of drool to the mixture. If I lie, may I be burned with red-hot…willow twigs. Today, however, the entire company was not at dinner, though it was only a few moments before the reason for this was found out.
The last member to show up did so with an impressive entrance; having overturned two large benches, nearly broke five plates, and managed to have almost every single strand of her hair tangled viciously in front of her face (not to mention the small owl that was still stuck in her jumper threads) she received a slightly impressed applause before her tardiness was questioned."Amanda Jane Stilts," Ark (the boy) began, "As impressive, and oh-so-cute that was, why in the world did it take you so long to get here?"
"Well, you see, Dephinotrosit Salintanosots Ark," The tardy girl exclaimed with a terribly worried face, "I have just found out something of most importance, in regards to our venerable society."
At the hearing of the code words, the other five members raised a finger to their noses, waiting.
"The information you are about to receive is to be taken into official record and then at least three chocolate éclairs eaten."
"Skinnamaroo!"
With the proper response to the information announcement out of the way, the rather chubby, and usually good-natured girl, dropped onto the bench next to Ark and pulled out the Daily Prophet. There was complete silence. This would either be very, very, very good, or very, very, very bad.
Teacher Takes a WifeProfessor Severus Snape, having served the ministry for many years, and known to be an outstanding potions master at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry…
"PREACH IT SISTAH!!!"
"Hush, Ark. Listen!"
…has, apparently, had a family secret hidden from him until early this summer. In a contract that was signed more than a hundred years before he was born, Severus Snape's great-great grandfather gave him in marriage to a very specific descendant of another party. Such contracts, at the time known as 'Shibbens', have always been regarded with hesitation and doubt by the wizarding community, even the more conservative of which prefer to preserve their blood-lines merely through closely controlled marriage practices, but this particular one has been declared legal by two different courts; both the muggle court, and ours.
As strange as even that may be, this Shibbens in particular has had dreadful side-effects, one of which is the degradation of Professor Severus Snape's reputation, for he was not simply to marry a woman whom he had not previously met, but the muggle progeny of a blatant squib. Alas for the modern Wizard, the wedding ceremony, kept secret from the wizarding press, has now been uncovered, the couple's honeymoon reportedly spent, although not in separate boudoirs, most assuredly not in the same bed.
When pressed for comment, the dashing professor merely raised an eyebrow and marched on, most likely still in shock from the entire process. His young wife's only action was to cheerfully offer this reporter a grape, which, when refused, was slapped 'through' her forehead, and quickly popping out her mouth. After such a vulgar display of obvious slight-of-hand, she grinned cheekily and queried whether or not her 'magic trick' was appreciated…
The silence was almost painful in its entirety, but the sickened reverence of the moment was quickly broken by a rather unfortunate question.
"Oh, is that all?"
One of the girls, semi-conscious that if she cried, her eyeliner would run, bounded up instead, teeth barred, barely escaping her own rage fog by the hand of another, who had a vice-like grip about the girl's forearm.
"Who said that?" She said with more than a little effort, and after looking about the group, all the six other members were obviously not the culprits, for every last one of them looked rather ill, Amanda rather as if she would cry at any moment. And then, slowly, all turned to the spot only a few feet from their group that was, most unusually, occupied by someone, they were sure, but all that could be seen was a pair of hands, and the fully opened Daily Prophet in front of them. As it became apparent to the person that they were being stared at, the newspaper was lowered and a redheaded, bespectacled young girl, appeared.
"Who said what?"
After a moment of examination, Ark answered. "Did…um…what did you say about the article?"
"Oh, I was wondering if that was all it said about that; I was just reading through something on Toppits. That one about the professor's wedding…I was rather curious."
"Why?"
"Oh, I know the bride." She said this rather nonchalantly, and there was a general intake of breath as the girl pushed her glasses up her nose and continued to read the newspaper, often gazing intently at pictures and squinting slightly. The group looked at each other, curious.
"Are you…a muggle?" one of them finally asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and gazing intently at their visitor.
"Huh?" She looked up from the paper again, "Oh, yes. I am, actually."
"But…what are you doing here?"
"Oh, I'm here with someone." This was also said without interest or alarm, and rather as though she was completely bemused as to why her presence was being questioned, and, before it could be recognized, the smile playing about her mouth was quickly tucked away and her hands fell to her lap, the newspaper forgotten.
Confused glances were exchanged, but, before she could be stopped, Amanda began attacking the girl with a barrage of questions.
"Where's she from?"
"Who?"
"The bride!"
"Oh, her. She's American,"
"As are you?"
"Oh, yes. But, she used to live in Africa. She only lived in America for the past year."
"How in the world, if she's a muggle American, did she get attached to an English wizard?"
"Oh, her great-great grandfather, the one who arranged it? He was Scotch-Irish and was best friends with the Professor's great-great grandfather. They immigrated shortly thereafter for some odd reason, potato blight or something, I think…"
The group had now clustered themselves around her, Ark looking a bit less ill, and more interested.
"Her new husband is interesting enough. Nice fellow, and rather good-looking in his way…great haircut."
That shocked a reaction out of Ark at least, for the only thing he had never admired about his professor was his sense of style. "What do you mean?" Ark had blurted out before he could stop himself. "His hair is revolting! I mean, when he was younger, 'Greasy Git' used to be pasted on all of his things, quills even!"
"Really? Huh…well, he must've gotten a hair cut during the summer anyway," She responded, looking rather confused. "I mean, look at the picture in the paper."
And the group looked, snatching both papers and scanning the contents hungrily until they came upon a rather lovely picture of their teacher, with obviously lighter, graying hair, and cut in a very becoming way. Ark nearly fainted.
"…So…cute…"
"Calm down Ark…" One of the girls warned. "You used up enough cold water last week."
Amanda was not to be deterred. "But what's she think about the whole thing?"
"Oh, she was terrified at first," The redhead explained confidentially, crossing her legs on the bench and leaning inward, her voice betraying all forms of sympathy one might feel for a close friend in a jam. "Absolutely terrified of the whole thing, that maybe she might be in an awful marriage for the rest of her life and might be miserable, but then, she stopped at the altar, and looked up at him…and everything was alright. She had always said that she never could see what writers refer to as 'a spark of' whatever in such-and-such's eyes, but she just looked at him, at his face and expressions, and just felt peaceful, as though everything was going to work out. Of course, as soon as he spoke during the ceremony she almost died; amazing voice."
All seven SOS members nodded knowingly.
"Yeah, just like…"
"Velvet…"
"Liquid velvet…"
"Liquid, rich, burgundy velvet…"
The redhead shook her head. "Well, beyond description I should think, but the last one is coming closer, and I do like that biting sarcastic edge to it, his voice, I mean; gives it character. Anyway, she did say that he hasn't even kissed her yet, though she is awfully curious as to how that's going to work out. Perhaps…" She looked thoughtful. "Perhaps its like cherries that you don't know if they're good or not and you just sort of roll one around in your mouth for awhile, afraid to actually bite into it because you're not sure that it's going to be good at all…"
When she looked up, all of the members looked rather confused.
"Oh, never mind…I just like analogies."
"But how does he feel?" one of the girls couldn't help but ask.
"That one, my dear," The redhead answered rather wearily, "Is a question for the ages." And with that somewhat final comment, she finished off her tea. "Anyway…forgive my rudeness," She grinned. "Who are you all?"
Ark sat up, his long, thin, Asian frame straightening and making him look very pompous and funny, as he always did when making formal introductions. "I am Dephinotrosit Salintanosots Ark, but please just call me Ark. The whole thing just takes much too long to say."
The girl right next to him, a brown-haired, normal looking girl reached across the table to shake hands. "I'm Lucy Benjemina Ackler. Pleased to meet you." She was quickly replaced by the next introduction.
"Jinexis Sosiphonous Levi," Declared a rather grimly dressed girl, her salon-straightened black hair rather menacing, but her half-smile making her look more friendly.
The round one chirped, "Amanda Jane Stilts." Before extending her pinky to shake. "I'm awfully pleased to meet you." The redhead laughed.
"Andrea Lynn Siska,"
"Megan Hillary Lucketly,"
"Wanda Anne Peterson," The last, a squarely built brunette, said, an eyebrow pulled up into something akin to suspicion. "Lovely to meet you…"
"Likewise." The redhead smiled and shook her hand.
"What's your name?" Ark asked cheerfully, picking up a piece of toast.
The redhead's smile suppressed itself forcefully and she fiddled with her teacup a bit, tapping the saucer once or twice with her rings before looking up, her face pulling into an unwilling, secretive grin.
"Geneva," She said, sounding as though she would quite like to laugh just then. "Mrs. Geneva Rose Snape, as of three weeks ago."
I know, I know. You saw that one coming didn't you? Anyway. This is just my introduction…Dun-dun-dun!