Severus peered covertly at the small, rounded faces that typically belonged to the younger children from his spot up at the High Table. They were a rather messy lot, food dribbling down their chins and saliva spitting out of their mouths that opened and closed endlessly. His child would be one of them, one day. He'd have a snot-faced little brat who couldn't tell their left from right without his guidance. The thought made him sick.
No, he decided, his child would be intelligent...as long as they took after him. And if they took after Magdalene? He'd be screwed. He barely wanted to be around one Magdalene, he couldn't imagine having to live with two. Had the circumstances they met been different, they never would have gotten together. They were just too different. How was he to do this?
"Deep in thought, Severus?" Severus gave the headmaster a quick response, something about research. That would shut the man up for a while. And, what about Albus? How could Severus be a spy while being a father? Could he risk his life every single day knowing that he'd leave his child without a father? Even if he wasn't so keen on becoming one, the facts were that he would be, in some 9 months and he wasn't completely heartless.
Fuck, how was he going to explain to Albus that he lost his spy because of one stupid mistake- a mistake that Severus couldn't even remember making. Had he been drunk? No, alcohol didn't make him stupid and besides, he never got drunk enough that he couldn't remember. Not anymore, at least. He'd only slept with her once in the recent past, back in late August, which would mean that she was a little more than a month in. Her belly wouldn't be showing yet but how had she not felt anything yet? She kept it hidden from him, that could be the only explanation.
But why would she hide something like this from him? Didn't she trust him? Did she think that he wouldn't step up and take the responsibility? But, then again, he just stormed out, leaving his pregnant whatever she was alone- not the most assuring thing he could have done. Didn't she know that he'd never abandon his duty by now? He shook his head. That was no excuse, he acted out of reason and in a way he was deeply ashamed of.
God, why did he have to exist? Magdalene was probably at home crying her eyes out because she thought that she'd have to raise this baby on her own and here he was, pitying himself because of the consequences of his own actions. He was a horrible excuse of a man.
"You're especially quiet."
"Excuse me, Minerva, I didn't know we were on speaking terms now." The witch shrugged her shoulders, finishing up the rest of her soup with an obnoxious slurp. She returned to her stony silence, probably embarrassed of her slip-up. Severus might have been smug if he hadn't so much on his mind at the moment.
A father, him. What a concept. He was screwed.
He didn't get the opportunity until two days later to go fix things with Magdalene. To his surprise, the woman wasn't angry with him at all. With a smile, she welcomed him back with open arms. It only made him feel more guilty but strengthened his resolve to be the best father he could be. So, he spent hours researching babies. It would not do to accidentally kill his own child because he held it the wrong way.
Once his brain was full of all-things-baby, he researched about pregnant women. Magdalene was somewhat irritated with all the supplements he insisted she start taking. He was serious about this. He still felt a little sick when he thought about having an actual baby but he pushed it away. He would do the right thing and step up. Whatever he was feeling, it had to have been a hundred times worse for Magdalene. She was the one going through 9 months of pregnancy, having her body change to accommodate a tiny human being. The least he could do was to support her in that.
If only she didn't seem to hate his worry for her so much. He didn't understand why, wasn't this what she wanted? Wasn't this the process soon-to-be fathers went through? He tried to be understanding, his new behaviour must be an overwhelming change for her. He wasn't all that much around before, not as much as he used to be, so his always being with her was an adjustment. He tried keeping that in mind and allowing her some space for herself but it made no difference until one night, she blurted out, "Can you not bring up the baby for once and just fuck me?"
While he did sleep with her, he didn't fuck her that night. "I don't think being rough is good for the baby," he explained quietly. She grumbled something and turned on her side. He sighed. He couldn't win this either way, could he? He laid with her in bed after for the first time. It was kind of an awkward experience. He didn't want to turn too much and he didn't get a wink of sleep in a foreign environment such as this one. She, contrastingly, slept like a baby.
Halfway through the night, the blanket slipped lower, her shirt riding up and exposing her stomach. A ray of moonlight fell over it, bringing a pale light to hand twitched automatically towards her, deciding to place itself over the flat surface. It didn't feel like a baby was in there but in a few weeks, it would. Maybe he'd feel different then, he sure hoped so.
Him, a father. It was still laughable.
Severus stormed into his classroom, already in a terrible mood. Magdalene refused to go have a checkup with a doctor, both muggle or wizard (not that he was counting on her accepting the former). To make matters worse, class hadn't even started yet and he already had to break up a scuffle between Malfoy, Potter, and Longbottom -much to Severus's surprise, maybe the boy was growing a spine after all. The icing on the cake was that Umbridge was supervising his class, looking for any reason to fire him. Well, he thought nastily as he watched her scribble on that clipboard of hers, you're not going to find any. If I can trick the Dark Lord, I can most certainly fool you, a simple-minded, manky bint that- before he could finish that insult with as many swear words he could possibly fit in, she was interviewing him, firing question after question.
He answered them with as much patience he granted to his students. He had no time to waste on someone who didn't know the difference between a strength potion and a strengthening potion. She had no excuse, even Longbottom would know the answer to that should he ask it. He debated whether he should or not but then the voice that sounded a lot like Albus warned him that he shouldn't trifle with her like that.
He kept a sturdy eye on the students, Potter and Longbottom specifically. They were most likely to do something to mess this up. Please don't fuck this up, Potter, please don't fuck this up. He repeated it like a prayer, over and over again, but of course, Potter did, indeed, fuck it up. He let him off easy if you asked him- only an essay. Much preferable to detention.
Umbridge, unfortunately, hung back even when all the students were gone. "Anything I can help you with, Dolores?"
"Yes. You see, I was thinking that we could form an alliance of a sort. Between the two of us, the rest of our colleagues aren't as qualified to be educators, don't you think?"
"Our colleagues are very educated in their fields, the students could not possibly do better than them. I do not know who you take me for, but I do not have the time nor inclination to take part of such a childish 'alliance,' as you put it."
"I'd be more careful, Snape," she hissed from rejection, "Things are about to change around here very soon." She harrumphed and was out of his room quicker than you could say 'wolfsbane.' Good riddance.
He repaid her the very next morning, spiking her tea with a potion he came up with. Nothing too serious, it would only cause her voice to sound like it belonged to a 5-year-old-girl for the next 24 hours. It was irreversible, even if Poppy wanted to attempt and fix it. Speaking of the woman, she was giving him the death-stare. He averted his gaze quickly, desperately praying that she wouldn't try to track him down after breakfast. He hadn't come in for his monthly check-ups (because apparently that was required for the staff) since the Dark Lord came back. What was the point? He was sufficient enough in healing himself. What were a few more scars to the collection? Poppy had a strong stomach, a trait required for any Mediwitch, but she wouldn't be able to hide her pity for him. He didn't need her pity, he got no more than he deserved.
"Headmaster, I was thinking-" he may or may not have added an amplifying effect. Suffice to say, she had the students get quiet sooner than they got when he entered the classroom. The silence didn't last for long, they burst into laughter and for once, Severus actually felt like joining them. Obviously he didn't but he did allow a quirk of his lips to escape. "What is wrong with my voice? Who did this! I demand an answer! Now!"
"I believe," Severus answered, keeping his voice steady, "That your voice resembles a little girl."
"I know what it sounds like! I want whoever did this to be punished!" She pounded her fist against the table and the Hall was quiet once more. Severus took a sip of his coffee to conceal his growing amusement. He addressed the students, speaking loud and clear, a tactic that worked on anyone but Potter, "Well, which one of you dunderheads did it? Come out with it." No response came out of it, just as he had known. Taking an exaggerated sigh, he faked annoyance, "Well, I suppose there's nothing that can be done about it. Shame. You might want to get that checked with Poppy." The toad looked like she'd rather cut off her wand arm but Poppy gestured to follow her and Umbridge complied.
Two birds, one stone.
"That was impressive," Minerva admitted, following him out.
He gave her his most innocent look, "I've no idea what you're talking about."
Minerva made a disbelieving sound in the back of her throat. "Sometimes, I do forget you have a sense of humour. I wonder what else we could do to her." With Umbridge uniting them against a common enemy, all was right again. He and Minerva were friends again, Umbridge got what she deserved...he was still a father.
Okay, almost all was right again.
"So...how have things been?" Remus was awkwardly situated in her kitchen, sitting sideways on the stool. So, he had felt the disconnect between the two recently. "Fine. You?" God, could she be any stiffer? Why couldn't she just talk to her brother? Tell him about how she hated Sirius's attention on her. Tell him about how she felt all weird around Professor Snape. Tell him how terrified she was that their father was going to die without her seeing him a last time. "Good."
A pregnant pause took the two of them into a deeper awkwardness. "So...Tonks?"
If his reddening cheeks weren't an indication, nothing was. "What about her?"
"Looks like she has a crush on you, haven't you noticed?"
"A crush?" He asked sheepishly, "I don't- I don't think so."
"Suuuure." Another silence. She sighed to herself. "So...Sirius?"
Giving him her best glare, she made it clear that that topic was off-limits. They settled back into an awkward silence. Just. Bloody. Great.
Mrs Weasley greeted her warmly at the door. She donned an apron with some spilt sauce on it, tied neatly around her waist. The place smelled delicious, Lyra didn't think she'd ever smelled anything even half as good. It was a wonder the Weasley children were as skinny as they were. If she grew up with Molly Weasley for a mother, she'd have no chance at fitting in her clothes and she wouldn't even care, it would be worth it.
Molly tried badgering her into staying but she didn't want to keep Professor Snape waiting. She was nervous about his reaction after she yelled 'fuck you' at him the previous week but he barely even reacted to her entrance. Seeing him again brought back unpleasant feelings but at least she wasn't angry with him. She was more confused than anything, she thought they were getting along but what was she expecting? Him to suddenly open up and reveal all of his secrets? She'd been brewing with him for about two months now and their relationship was almost strictly kept to brewing the Wolfsbane. He never hung back once it was complete and he never went off-topic...until last week, that is.
It was nice, too. He was funny. Maybe not in the Weasley twins' way but in his own, sarcastic way. But, the next moment, he was back to being cold- even colder than usual, actually. He didn't say a word which made her think that he was still pissed off with her. He was acting abnormally today, almost distracted. But, that couldn't be because of her, right? She couldn't affect him in such a way.
He did move aside to allow her way. She started chopping, assuming that's what he wanted her to do. He didn't say anything against it, so she continued. Saying that she was 100% focused herself would be a big, fat lie. She snuck looks at him here and there. There was something magnetizing about him, she just couldn't put a finger on what. She enjoyed looking at him, in fact, she wanted his face burned in her brain forever. Not to sound creepy or anything, of course.
"Fuck," she hissed. In her inattention, the knife slipped and sliced her palm. Hot blood flooded the surface, and her stomach felt like it turned inside out from the sight. Tears raced down her cheeks from the pain. She heard the knife fall on the table with a 'clang' as if she were underwater. Then, a hand was holding her injured one. His hand. He didn't show a care that her blood clung to his hand, he kept it steady regardless. "This will hurt," he warned. He came directly beside her, her backside pressed against his upper thigh. She felt his feathered hair brushing against her head and his body framed hers, his hands on either side of her set on top of the table. There was just so much of him, she couldn't pick a focal part. "I am going to wash out the wound," he warned.
"No, p-please, it'll hurt!" She waited for him to call her a dunderhead or yell at her for being so stupid for getting herself in this situation in the first place but instead, his voice lowered into reassurance, "I know. Be my strong girl." They both realized he had bungled up his words at the same time but neither commented on it. Him, out of embarrassment, probably, but she out of fluster. He didn't mean that she was his strong girl but she didn't mind being that.
She cried out as the harsh stream of water pounded against her wound. It hurt like hell the first few seconds but then it eased. The water was cold so it had a numbing effect on her and the pressure felt kind of nice. The pain hit twice as hard when the water stopped. She couldn't help the cries leaving her mouth. "Shh," he murmured, "It's okay." Be my strong girl. She gritted her teeth and held her breath, wanting so much to be that for him. "I'm drying it now."
"Okay." She let the 'sir' hang, testing her limits. He said not a single word. Drying it was just as painful but her determination held strong still. He threw the bloodied cloth to the ground and spoke again, "I'm going to heal it." She had been expecting him to cast a spell with his wand but was pleasantly surprised when he hovered his finger directly against the angry cut. He sang a song under his breath. Even with the whisper-like quality it held, his song was melodious and beautiful. It drove shudders down her spine. How was it possible for something that angelic to come out of one's mouth?
She couldn't decipher what he was saying but the blood flow was slowing down and the skin started to knit together. He didn't stop until her hand was almost good as new, only a faint scar marking where her hand had been split open only seconds ago. "It will fade in time," he assured.
She lifted her hand in front of her eyes in complete awe. Brand fucking new. She turned around to look at the man in front of her with newfound amazement. He was God, her own fucking God now. With concern, she realized that his face was locked in a grimace and his wrist wrapped tightly around his forearm. "Are you o-"
"I need to go." The words were drawn out with effort. He was in pain, but why? Had it been because of her? Before she could ask anything else, he was striding out of the room. No, he wasn't merely striding, he was almost running.
Lyra felt a massive ball of guilt. This was her fault, she had done something to him. Him healing her injury must have- fuck. Why couldn't she have paid just a little more attention? If he hurt himself because he healed her… he'd be alright, right? He had to be, this was Severus Snape she was talking about. He was practically invincible. No, he'd be back any moment, striding through that door and asking her why the fuck she wasn't attending to the potion.
So, why wasn't he coming?
"Severus, you certainly took your time getting here." The Dark Lord wasn't pleased. As was to be expected. He had called while Severus was addressing her wounds. He wasn't about to abandon her but his choice came with a cost. "Sorry, my Lord, I-"
"Enough! I grow tired of your excuses." Without warning, he pointed his wand at Severus. "Leglimens."
Severus wasn't prepared for the Dark Lord's invasion, not quite. He directed him to trivial memories of him grading, being harsh on students, mocking Potter, praising Draco, and onwards. The Dark Lord's patience was thin. He bore quickly and ripped through his mind even further, searching for something of use. Memories of meetings with Dumbledore flashed by. The Dark Lord didn't learn anything he didn't already know, thankfully. Severus always kept those memories behind an Occlumency shield- altered or completely hidden. If the Dark Lord got to those memories, game over. In a similar manner, that was where thoughts of Lily belonged.
But then, the Dark Lord was changing course. A recreation of the scene not 5 minutes ago replayed. The Dark Lord watched with a thoughtful silence.
Severus fell to his knees, weak from the sudden intrusion. "I think you have something to tell me, don't you, Severus?" The Dark Lord rose and practically glided to Severus. Like a snake, he circled around him- he was a predator and Severus his prey. "I allow you freedom and this is how you repay me? By leaving information out? It may not feel like it, but remember this, Severus: You. Are. Mine. It is a long leash I hold you by, yes, but it is a leash, nonetheless. Who is the girl? Crucio."
Severus let his tongue loose. He could very well keep his mouth shut, even under this amount of pain, but it was what the Dark Lord expected. "Lyra Lupin," he calmly stated. The strength of the curse only became worse. Severus felt something wet drip down his temple. God, he hoped that was only sweat. "Lupin's sister." The only sound escaping the solemn atmosphere of the room was Severus's soft pants. By the sound, or lack of sound, he was making, it could be assumed that he wasn't in any pain.
That was untrue, only pure determination was preventing him from begging the Dark Lord to stop, begging his forgiveness- determination to not give the bastard the satisfaction. He would die before that. It was almost like a game between them- the Dark Lord milking out his tortures to see if Severus would break. He never did and the Dark Lord both respected and hated him for it. "Do you believe you are anything without me, Severus?"
"No, my Lord, of course not."
"I fear I've been allowing you too much freedom." The Dark Lord changed course of the conversation abruptly, "I want to see her."
"My Lord, but-"
"Enough! You will bring her here or you will suffer the consequences." With this, the Dark Lord released the curse and Severus wobbled to his feet. His skin was on fire, bones turned to liquid, but to show anything else would be akin to admitting weakness. He was all too aware of his surroundings as he moved out of the centre of the room.
The rest of the meeting passed with a haze, starting with Augustus Rookwood and ending with Lucius Malfoy. Severus wasn't the only one to face punishment but yet, his punishments always seemed to be harsher than the others. One thinks the closer you get to the Dark Lord, the better, but in truth, it only means more pain.
Severus turned down Lucius's offer to allow him to stay the night and apparated to Spinner's End. The sight of the uniformed buildings that didn't allow for any light to escape them was familiar to him by now. Nothing had changed since the last time he was here.
The 'click-clack' of his boots hitting the ground accompanied him to the end of the street, where his house stood. He crouched and retrieved the set of keys underneath his mat and unlocked the door, coughing as he inhaled the dust that had accumulated. The entire place was worn out and dreary. It wasn't merely that the darkness kept the light away- it was that light did not exist in this place, regardless of darkness. Wallpapers ripped at the seams,
He couldn't blame this on the house being unoccupied, it maintained a similar state even when he was inhabiting it in those few months he was forced to live here, a sentiment that traced all the way back to his Hogwarts days. He hated this place, more than anywhere else, but it allowed him privacy. Not even Albus knew where he lived. It was his safe place, ironically.
The entire place was outdated, save for the one renovation of an indoor loo rather than the outhouse and the stock of potions in his bathroom cupboard. Taking one look in the blurred mirror, he flinched.
He took inventory of his appearance. His skin was paler than usual, so transparent his veins were visible. Under his eyes were the darkest marks he'd ever seen on him- and he was an insomniac. Blood constantly trickled down from his temple, dripping down on the floor. His lip was cut and a chunk of his tongue was missing due to the force of his own teeth. Half-crescents indented his palm so harshly, they drew blood. All of that was incomparable to how sensitive his skin felt.
At times like this, he wished he could cry, but the tears wouldn't come. They'd been completely whipped out of him as a boy.
What if he just left himself like this? Eventually he'd bleed out to death, right? Perhaps this wasn't enough blood for that but he could certainly aid himself in that aspect. He was tempted to do so, no one would miss him after all. But, did he deserve death? No, he'd done far too much evil and not enough good to deserve peace. His vow to Albus, he reminded himself; his vow to Lily. They could not be broken. He grasped onto his promises and vows like a child would their reunited parent.
With much effort, he finally took to healing his wounds one by one. When he wasn't a bloody mess, he practically inhaled the tiniest bit of blood-replenishing potion and some pain-reliever, the muggle kind. The Wizarding pain-reliever didn't work for the Cruciatus. The paracetamol didn't work all that well either but it was better than nothing.
Then, he sunk in a heap onto the blood-stained tiles wishing that he was more dead.
Somewhere in her panic-fogged mind, Lyra got herself up the stairs. "What's wrong?" Molly came bursting from the kitchen, immediately hugging her, "Are you okay?" She was a blubbering mess. A firm hand on her shoulder blade guided her to the dining table. She was promptly sat down and a few minutes later, a cup of tea was placed in front of her. She drank every last sip of it, feeling a wave of calmness wash over her.
Calming Draught. Smart people. "Lyra, what happened?" Sweetness rolled off Molly's tongue in a sincere question. "I-it's Professor Snape, I think he's injured!"
A derisive snort came from the corner of the room, "That's all? By the way you were crying, I thought someone was dying." Lyra's angry face turned to meet a sneering Sirius. It was only now that she realized it wasn't just she and Molly in the room but also an awkward Arthur, concerned Remus, and an out-of-place Ron Weasley. Out of all of them, only the Weasley parents looked worried about the information she had just given them. "Severus? Where is he?" Molly was ready to go aid him, something that endeared her to Lyra.
"I don't know! He kind of clutched his arm and ran out saying he needed to go." They exchanged looks and Lyra felt as if she were left out of an inside joke. "Lyra," Arthur began solemnly, "Severus is a spy."