Chapter Thirty-Eight

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The Abraxan horses were delightful creatures. Hermione leaned over the carriage and patted one. Its hot breath puffed into her hand as it snuffled, tossing its head when the hand proved empty.

"They like you," Lady Stella observed.

"They're magnificent," Hermione said.

Lady Stella tugged on a bridle strap. "It's good luck for a witch to ride an Abraxan to her wedding."

"It is?"

"Of course. They represent her willingness to be carried by the strength of her husband into this new phase of her life."

"Indeed," Hermione said dryly. "What's Severus going to ride then?"

Lady Stella would not lower herself to frown, but the lines around her mouth grew severe. "Severus will be escorted by Abraxas - the young wizard guided by the experienced older one."

"Ah. His own Abraxan."

It was perhaps not the best idea to quip, because Lady Stella merely sucked in her lips and checked the time.

"I believe it is time for us to begin. The Dark Lord has arrived, and all the guests are seated. Please take your place in the carriage."

Hermione climbed the narrow steps. The carriage had an open-top, and she could see the grounds of Lestrange Manor. It was a clear spring morning, not long past dawn and droplets beaded the grass. As Lady Stella settled beside her and fussed over her dress, Hermione thought how long ago last spring seemed, when they had all sat beneath the fountains and the cherry blossoms together.

The white marquee stood in the centre of the lawn, and as the horses drew the carriage closer the sounds of music reached them.

"Don't you dare stumble even if you break your leg on the way down the aisle," were Lady Stella's parting words as she helped Hermione out of the carriage and smoothed her dress with a critical eye. "Now go!"

She gave Hermione a sharp shove, and Hermione found herself pushed into the marquee. White silk billowed above her, and a magnificent chandelier cast rainbows across the walls. But none of the guests looked at this. They were looking at her. Guests sat to either side of a long aisle, decorated with sprays of spring flowers and white bows.

Hermione walked down the aisle, barefoot in what Lady Stella had insisted was the traditional pureblood manner. Her white dress was tight and corseted, the top entrusted with a thousand sparkling diamonds and loops of pearls. The milky skirt flowed around her legs to settle at her feet; the most expensive silk money could buy. This wedding dress had cost what her Muggle parents earned in a year. Her lace sleeves were elegant, but the train was long, and Hermione tried to avoid stumbling.

Severus waited for her at the foot of the aisle, and their eyes met, his dancing with amusement.

Let's get this over with, he seemed to say. Hermione smiled at him as though she were a virgin bride on her wedding day.

Not as good as last night, her gaze told him.

Lord Voldemort stepped forward, his smile artificial and cold and Hermione wondered how he thought he had the authority to preside over a wedding. This wedding was to create an alliance, to legitimise a child. It was not intended to celebrate love. Voldemort wore handsome dress robes, but already something looked wrong about his face; his features were blurry, like a slight hint of the monster he would become. Hermione wanted to swallow, but she didn't as she turned to face him.

His voice was silky as he addressed the audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today…"

In the stiff formality of the opening speech, Hermione felt Severus reach for her hand. She took it and felt his fingers slide across her palm and up to her wrist, where they tightened. Around her wrist, hidden by the lace sleeves she had wrapped a length of nondescript white string.

It was time.

"I, Hermione Druella Black, do take thee, Severus Tobias Snape..."

They spoke the words, hand in hand, and Hermione thought that though everything in this room was a deception, this was real. Severus, their baby, the rest of their lives. She would give up as much, if not more all over again to be with this man.

Afterwards, dancing and music began. A string quartet set up a lively tune and the chairs in the marquee were whisked away to reveal a dance floor. House-elves popped up in every direction bearing trays of drinks and the crowd gathered in a large circle around Hermione and Severus.

"Why are they all looking at us?" Severus murmured in Hermione's ear on a pretext of kissing her cheek.

"I'm afraid it's time for the first dance," Hermione said. Severus groaned and she stifled a laugh.

The music changed to something slower, romantic. The crowd formed a wide circle around them, giving Hermione and Severus an open space. Severus took Hermione's hand lightly and placed his other hand on her hip. They began to move together in time to the music.

Severus was not a natural dancer, but Lady Stella had ensured the appropriate moves had been drilled into him by a resentful Lucius, who would never dare deny his mother anything. They whirled around the dance floor and the crowd clapped in time with them. Hermione buried her face in Severus's hair and tried to think of nothing but him. If she looked she would see Lord Voldemort among the crowd, and Death Eaters everywhere.

"Don't think about it," Severus said quietly, feeling Hermione tense.

"I know. I liked last night so much better."

"Me too. You looked much better without the stupid dress," Severus lied. Hermione tilted her head back to laugh and saw a camera flash.

Other couples joined the dance floor. Hermione smiled as Rabastan and Alecto waltzed past them. Rabastan wore a fixed smile as Alecto trod on his toes, but he steered them expertly across the dancefloor. Nearby Arabel was dancing with a young wizard who looked overwhelmed by her presence. It took Hermione a second to realise it was Regulus, so different did he look in evening dress robes.

"Arabel looks stunning," Hermione said.

"Mm," Severus said, watching Hermione.

They danced until their feet ached and the other guests had begun to leave the floor to get drinks and take a seat around the edge of the Marquee.

"Snape, may I congratulate you on the beauty of your bride," a silky voice said.

"Lord Malfoy," Severus said, turning. "Thank you."

"We appreciate the effort you and the Lady Malfoy have gone to help this day take place," Hermione added.

"Not at all," Lord Malfoy demurred, taking out a handkerchief and dabbing at his lips. "It is a pleasure to help two such bright young recruits as yourselves. Particularly those without any family of your own."

After they had exchanged a few more words and Abraxas Malfoy had excused himself, Hermione turned to Severus. He was pale, and she could see the tension in his limbs.

"Are you alright?"

Severus shook his head. "He said I had no family."

It struck Hermione with force, and she didn't know how she could have missed it.

"Sev, what he said - it isn't true, is it? Your mother isn't…"

"She's not dead. But my father would never allow her to attend a wizarding wedding," Severus said, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides.

Hermione sighed.

"I thought so - that's what you said before. But...do you wish she had?"

Severus didn't answer but took a deep, shuddering breath. Hermione stroked his hand with her thumb.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Severus didn't say it was fine but held her hand tighter. Another member of the inner circle approached them. The endless rounds of greeting and receiving guests seemed never to end, and Hermione was beginning to find it difficult to breathe in the corseted dress.

"It's time for the meal," Lady Stella said, bouncing up to them. Her face was flushed and she seemed in her element, directing guests, servants and house elves, and running the entire event in a way that must have been the original role model for Narcissa.

The day passed in rich food and fearful glances, in being on the show, and Lord Voldemort everywhere, watching them. Hermione's jaw ached from smiling and posing and greeting others, and she wanted to drop with relief when, as the night ended, they waved off the final guests.

"Thank God that's over," Severus said.

"Mm. Come on, let's get out of here."

Hermione and Severus made their way to Lady Stella and thanked her and Deus Lestrange making the arrangements. They shut the front door behind them and wandered down the drive hand in hand, Hermione at last allowed to trade the tight dress for comfortable plain black robes.

"You're going to walk?" Lady Stella had exclaimed with horror.

But Hermione was desperate to breathe some fresh air. Their breath made clouds in the cold night, and across the lawns, the white marquee still billowed in the slight breeze. Above their heads, the stars were bright and shining. Hermione spotted Orion above their heads.

"All ordeals must come to an end," she said to Severus.

He was quiet. He had been quiet all day, but Hermione had put that down to his dislike of the day and the ceremony. But he still was deep in thought.

"Is everything alright?" she ventured.

"Yes," Severus answered. "No. I'm not sure."

Hermione waited. It was the best way with Severus. He would speak when he was ready. Sure enough, he sighed and spoke again.

"It's my mother. She doesn't know I'm married, or that I'm going to be a father. I couldn't even send her a letter - my father would…"

Hermione stopped walking and pulling Severus into her arms, laying her head on his shoulder.

"Oh, Sev. I'm so sorry."

"She told me to leave," he said, voice muffled. "In the summer. She told me to go. But I haven't...I don't know if she's…"

"Then let's go and find out," Hermione said.

"What?"

She stepped back, searching his face. "Let's go and see them. We don't have to go anywhere tonight. We could stun your father and obliviate him after the visit so he would never even know we've been."

Severus was hesitant.

"Come on," Hermione said. "Didn't your mother tell you to leave, and to not visit again until you were seventeen and able to defend yourself? Well, now you can."

Severus started. It was as though the possibility of merely visiting hadn't occurred to him.

"I don't know -"

"We're going," Hermione said firmly, and she took him by the hand. "But you'll have to apparate us since I don't know where I'm going."

That last part wasn't the whole truth. Hermione had been to Spinner's End and been into Severus's childhood home. She, Harry and Ron had searched the place from top to bottom to find evidence of Snape's real loyalties after he died. But she didn't think it would be tactful to mention this now.

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Spinner's End looked no different than it had in Hermione's time. The same dirty river moved sluggishly along the canal, and the same rows of grimy terraced houses rested under the dark shadow of the mill.

A tree creaked in the wind as Hermione and Severus walked along the narrow street. Lights flickered in some of the houses, though the hour was late.

"I don't know if my mother will still be awake," Severus said uneasily.

But a light burned in the window when they reached the grim little house. Severus swallowed reflexively and he tugged at the collar of his dress robes.

"You look wonderful," Hermione said.

"I look like a wizard," he corrected.

"Come on. I'll stun him straight away. He'll never know we were here."

Severus nodded and knocked on the door. They could hear the sound echo through the house, and the heavy tread of footsteps. A chain clinked, and keys rattled. Someone hissed a muffled curse, and the door swung open.

Snape's father bore little resemblance to his son. He was a thickset man with a thatch of brown hair and florid cheeks that spoke of a lifetime of too much drink, and small, piggy eyes that narrowed at them.

"What the fuck are you doing here boy?"

"Stupefy," Hermione said. Tobias Snape swayed and crashed to the ground with a thump. Hermione levitated him inside, and pushed Severus in, shutting the door and locking it. Nobody had seen it.

"Tobias? Is everything alright?" A female voice called.

Severus went rigid. He stepped past his fallen father and bent to remove his shoes, placing them beside the door with precision. Hermione did the same, and she followed Severus into the house. It was cleaner than when she had seen it and warmer. But the walls were still the old-fashioned floral patterns, and the carpet was a dark brown.

"Mum," Severus said softly, looking through the doorway that led to the living room.

There came a crash and a cry. "Severus? But what - how - what are you doing here."

A tall, thin woman ran across the room and wrapped Severus in her arms, sobbing into his shoulder. And Severus was crying too and holding the woman. They stayed like that for some time, and Hermione discreetly hovered in the doorway. But eventually, Eileen Snape drew back and pulled out a handkerchief to blow her nose, and Hermione got her first glance at Snape's mother.

Eileen had been no great beauty in youth and in adulthood she had fared no better. Her large hooked nose still dominated her face, and Hermione had forgotten what Snape had looked like with that feature. She resembled Severus so closely that she might have produced him without other genetic assistance. The same dark eyes, tall build and strong cheekbones. It looked better on a man than a woman, Hermione decided.

But Eileen was not unattractive. She was damaged. Something dreadfully fragile echoed in her threadbare clothes and thin figure, and the way her hands were clutching at Severus that was a little desperate.

"Where did your father go?" she asked Severus. "If he sees you here…"

"I stunned him," Hermione said softly. Eileen moved like a nervous animal that sudden sounds of movements could startle into flight.

Eileen jumped at the sight of Hermione.

"Who -"

"Mother," Severus said, detaching himself and moving to stand beside Hermione with formality. "May I present to you my wife, Hermione Black-Snape."

Eileen's mouth worked for several moments before she could speak.

"Your…"

"My wife," Severus said, wiping another tear from his cheek. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you. I didn't know how with father...the ceremony was held at the Malfoy house, you see…"

But Eileen wasn't listening. Her staring at Hermione was something akin to wonder. She stepped closer, and Hermione saw that her cheeks were hollow and her eyes had great bags beneath them. A fading bruise spread across her collarbone.

"You married my Severus?" she said. Hermione swallowed, her heart constricting with feeling.

"Yes Mrs Snape, I did. And it's an honour to meet you. I've wanted to for so long."

And Hermione had indeed wanted to meet Eileen. Had wanted to meet her for a long time. Eileen invited them into the living room, fluttering hands as she directed them to sit in threadbare armchairs. Hermione shivered at the cold draught in the room and wished the fire was lit.

"I'll make tea," Eileen said, looking a little lost. Severus jumped up to follow as she turned to the kitchen.

"I'll help, mum," he said.

Hermione stood and stretched. She walked over to the window and peered out. The living room backed onto an overgrown garden, invisible in the dark. An overflowing ashtray sat on the windowsill, and burn marks littered the wood.

Hermione moved slowly around the room, pausing at the bookshelf to read the titles of the scant collection, mostly muggle crime fiction. Somehow Hermione found it hard to imagine Eileen curling up in the armchair with one, and thought they must be Tobias's collection. No pictures adorned the walls. Nothing to show that a boy had grown up here. The lone decoration was a rather ugly painting of a vase of flowers that hung above the empty fireplace.

Severus returned carrying a rattling tray of tea. He poured the drinks and handed Hermione a cup as Eileen returned. The tea was hot and bitter, but it was all Hermione craved after the day they had endured. She sipped it slowly, wrapping her hands around the mug to warm them.

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you about the wedding mum," Severus said.

"It had to happen quickly," Hermione added.

"For everything to remain...decent," Severus said meaningfully.

Eileen looked at him for a moment, uncomprehending, then understanding dawned.

"You're -"

"We're expecting a baby," Severus said, a faint blush tinging his cheeks.

Eileen's eyebrows raised, and Severus hurried on.

"I know I was stupid mum, really. It just...happened."

Eileen appeared unable to speak. Her eyes moved between Severus and Hermione at a rapid rate.

"When?" she whispered.

"The baby's due in May," Hermione said.

"May -"

With a splash and a cry; Eileen spilt her tea all down herself. Severus leapt to his feet and hurried over, lifting the cup from his mother's lap and looking for help.

"Here," Hermione said, conjuring a towel and handing it over. Severus took it and wiped up the worst of the spill. But red splotches were appearing on Eileen's arms.

"She's burnt," Severus said wretchedly.

Hermione took the older woman's hands in her own and inspected the burns. Then she reached for her bag and stuck her hand inside.

"Accio burn-paste."

The pot jumped into her hand. She unscrewed the cap and sniffed it to check it was still viable.

"Is that safe?" Severus asked.

"Absolutely."

Hermione took Eileen's arm gently and spread the greasy grey burn paste over it. Eileen was trembling and her eyes filled with tears.

"Stupid," she whispered.

"No you weren't mum, it was an accident," Severus protested.

"Stupid, clumsy…"

Hermione rubbed the paste into Eileen's arms and hands. She must be in her fifties, Hermione estimated, but her skin was soft and wrinkled with age, and she felt a great sense of tenderness towards her. The red was beginning to fade as the burn paste did its work.

Her baby was Eileen's grandchild, Hermione realised suddenly, something she had known but not thought of. She was carrying an infant with Eileen's genetic material in it. They were family. A rush of rage came at the idea of anyone treating her own mother the way Eileen was treated.

"I'm going to wash my hands," Hermione said, standing up. "Sev, does your mum want some more tea? Perhaps with sugar in it?"

"Stupid," Eileen was still muttering to herself as Hermione left the room.

Walking back from the bathroom Hermione paused where Tobias lay prone on the floor. He was breathing heavily, his face squished against the carpet. The way his arms sprawled looked like a raised fist, and Hermione remembered the bruise on Eileen's collarbone.

She remembered some other things. Hermione remembered seeing Harry's memories of Severus. The little boy with clothes that didn't fit him properly, angry and violent at the age of eleven. She remembered Severus arriving at the leaky cauldron last summer, a week into the summer holidays and covered in bruises. How ashamed he had been when she had healed them. His broken nose healed badly.

Tobias Snape let out a snore.

Hermione had rarely in her life felt such towering anger as she did when she looked at the unconscious man. Left alone he would surely continue to terrorise Eileen and bring misery to Severus. She hated that he was the grandfather to the child inside her.

The moonlight filtered in through the window. Outside an owl hooted and the trees swayed in the breeze. Nobody was walking past the Snape residence at that time of night.

But if there had been any onlookers, they would have seen through the glass an eerie green light flash momentarily, and fade. Hermione stood over the mountainous body, shaking and righteous until the adrenaline began to leave her veins.

"Oh god," she said, raising a hand to her mouth and staring at Tobias, aware all at once of Severus and Eileen in the sitting room. What would Severus say? She had to tell him.

Hermione returned to the living room. She took Severus by the elbow and drew him out of the room. Eileen did not look up from her fresh cup of tea. Severus didn't notice at once that the body of his father in the hallway was no longer breathing, so in short words, she explained.

"You did what?" Severus stared at Hermione.

"I -"

"You killed my father?"

The picture frames in the hallway began to rattle, and the windows shivered in their frames. Hermione took a step backwards, half-afraid. She had never seen Severus close to losing control like this.

"I thought -"

"You didn't think," Severus roared, eyes flashing. "It wasn't your decision to make! Don't you think I could have done it myself if I wanted to?"

"But he was hurting your mother," Hermione said.

"I fucking know that!" Severus shouted. "And it was my problem to deal with! My family, not yours!"

"Your mother is my family now," Hermione said. "I couldn't let -"

Severus stalked towards Hermione and for the first time, she felt afraid of him. Every inch of his boyishness had fallen away, and standing in front of her was the man she remembered.

"She is not your family, and you had no right," he said. "Get the fuck out of my house."

"Your mother -"

"I will take care of my mother. I'll explain to her why my father isn't about to walk back into the living room, and why my wife is no longer staying," Severus snarled.

"Severus, please."

"Get the fuck out."

"I'm so -"

"DON'T," Severus bellowed, "SAY YOU'RE SORRY. IT'S TOO LATE."

His anger was so great that it seemed to rise in a cloud around him, and Hermione turned and fled.

Tobias lay where she had left him, a great unmoving mass of flesh. His chest no longer rose or fell. Hermione almost tripped over him as she ran outside into the street. She didn't glance in any direction as she disapparated, didn't check if muggles were watching.

She appeared in Diagon Alley and walked at great speed to the Leaky Cauldron. Only when she was in their - her - room, did she collapse to the floor, gasping for air. Her chest heaved but sobs would not come. What had she done?

Death had become so natural, so easy. It was easy to take a life, to whisper a word to silence them. She had become the executioner, the judge, the one who decided if they were worthy to breathe another breath.

She had not asked Severus or Eileen. In a second she had killed the man who had dominated both of their lives, and she had not asked first. She had assumed that she knew best.

Hermione silenced the room, and then she screamed, a great ragged howl from deep inside her chest. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, felt movement stir within. But still, the tears would not come.

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The end of this kind of depressing chapter is possibly not the right place to celebrate but I'm going to do it anyway. Because I have used my two months of lockdown to, among other things, finish this damned story. It's done! Finished! Unedited, pretty rough, but every last word, even the epilogue, is written. It turns out that my estimate of 'maybe another ten thousand words or so' ended up more like sixty thousand, but it's done. DONE. Almost exactly five years after I started it.

Anyhoo, I have some serious editing work to do, but the end is in sight. Yippee! This is fun!

Hope you are all keeping well out there. Covid has been going around our marina so we're staying inside. See you again soon,

Cas