An Incomplete Potter Collection ch Collection 13
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Petunia Snape
What's in a name?
A Good Girl
A Date
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Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
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Story: [Petunia Snape]
Summary: Severus Snape marries Petunia Dursley. Because can you honestly find any two people who deserve each other more?
Genre: Humor, Crack
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So they got married.
Their wedding was awful, in part because the bride was screeching at her poor and unfortunate bridesmaids – who were thankfully well paid for the abuse heaped upon them, as none had been willing to volunteer to be uncompensated for the event – and in part because the bridegroom was about as eloquent and charitable with his words as he always was – the best man was thankfully also well compensated for the event and the few guests who'd arrived were generally quite used to the vitriol spewing out of his mouth.
Harry Potter was in attendance, along with his cousin Dudley Dursley – the son of the bride. Draco Malfoy was also present in a finely tailored suit to showcase his support for his godfather's recent attempt towards happiness.
Neither of the three brought a date to the ceremony: Mr Potter quoted a most unfortunate clash of schedules from his current girlfriend, young Mr Dursley mentioned that he was still very much available in that sense and saw no need to bring a date to his own mother's wedding, and young Mr Malfoy apologetically also confessed to a dreadfully unfortunate clash of schedules on behalf of his fiancee.
Still, the decorations were perfect, the attendees were all unfalteringly polite – with the exceptions of the lucky lucky couple, who were most likely merely understandably nervous – and the ceremony went off without a hitch. Though that might be attributed to the fact that the priest skillfully dodged around quite a bit of the more flowery phrases of such a union, and thus hurried the couple along and out of his bloody church.
It was then revealed to the couple that all of those gathered had joined together to pay for a rather fabulous trip around the world by sea, as a honeymoon for the both of them. A gift that the bride happily accepted.
Not much long after that, the party was split up, with the happy couple thanking everyone for their presence and support on this most happy of days.
Unfortunately, news reached the guests not a week later that a horrific accident in the form of a leak in the hull of a lifeboat had claimed the new couple's lives.
In response, there was a sad and somber gathering of individuals in respect for the loss of such wonderful people.
Harry Potter – and most of the meeting place – was decorated in solemn red and gold, though both blue and bronze, yellow and black, as well as green and silver, also joined together. A show of unity in between Houses, of the school where Mr Snape had once taught.
Young Mr Dursley had also brought along a symbolic and definitely-never-before-used drill, which he admitted to having been made by the company of his mother's previous husband Vernon Dursley. He went on to explain that it was very important to him to show that he was certain that both of his fathers would meet and approve of each other in the afterlife, and that he believed a definitely-never-before-used drill properly symbolized this.
Young Mr Draco was vocally grateful for young Mr Dursleys thoughts on the subject, and agreed that a drill was perfectly symbolic for this sad and solemn gathering.
Mr Potter also briefly took the stage to proclaim that he was certain that his aunt would've been quite saddened by the many frowns in the crowd, and that those gathered to mourn should instead try to smile as they thought about the good old times, rather than the trying times ahead.
Mr Longbottom also made a brief appearance, to – solemnly and gratefully – officially disband the "Order of the Drills" as there was quite a number of members in attendance, and it had already fulfilled all that it had been meant to achieve. This declaration was met with a loud toast, and a few tasteful songs.
The night ended with the twin Messrs Weasley performing a truly marvelous firework display.
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Story: [What's in a name?]
Summary: Nobody had expected the name of Albus Severus Potter. At least, nobody who didn't understand.
Genre: Family?
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Until he'd been eleven years old, Albus Severus had been told that he was named after two of the bravest men his father had ever known.
He was twelve when he demanded to know more.
They'd both been headmasters of Hogwarts during war-time, they'd both made bad choices in the past, and they'd both helped with defeating Voldemort in their own way.
But Severus had been a bully, and Albus had been ruthless to the point of cruelty.
So why had he been given those two names? Why hadn't he been named after the kind, giant of a man who'd carried his father to safety twice-over? Why hadn't he been named after the man who'd turned to spit in the Dark Lord's eye, even at the cost of his own life? Why hadn't he been named after any of the other countless people who'd died in the war?
Harry had looked at him for a long moment with a complicated expression, before sighing deeply.
"Because their names were mine to give."
The child suffering the childhood that Albus had dictated would be most beneficial to their cause, the child suffering the full hatred of Severus's petty cruelties from an early age. Yes, those two names had been his to do with as he wished.
He'd never met Regulus. He'd never seen the man who'd so desperately fought back against the Dark Lord whom he'd originally joined. And though he could make the man's name heard, though he could make sure that it was written down in history in the way that it should be, it was never his name to give.
He could've given him the name of the gentle giant who'd pulled him out of trouble more times than he could count – and accidentally probably pulled him into trouble just as many times. But their relationship had never been as good as perhaps it ought to have been, and 'Rubeus' was an awkward name at the best of times, and not one that the giant had ever really used.
Ginny had described it as being as strange as naming their daughter 'Nymphadora' in honor of the woman who'd much rather have that particular name completely stricken from history.
But Severus and Albus, those were Harry's names to do with as he pleased.
Neville certainly had some claim as well, but he'd never forgiven him. For Neville 'Severus' could never have been forgiven, not really. And he would never drink a toast to the man's name.
So the name had fallen to Harry alone. And Harry had forgiven them.
Not because they deserved to be forgiven, not because he accepted their methods or reasons, but because he'd never been the type to do anything other than forgive. He'd forgiven Dudley years ago, probably long before he'd ever first realized how his cousin had grown. He'd forgiven Petunia and her petty jealousy not much later. He'd forgiven Vernon the first time he'd looked at his first son's face and known how important he was to protect.
He'd forgiven Umbridge and her cruelties, because he'd seen how easily it could be to warp a child into following that woman's actions. She'd always been a symptom of their twisted society, more than a person in her own right.
Time and again, he had forgiven. Not because they deserved to be forgiven, not because they should escape the punishments that were justifiable, but because forgiveness came easily to him. And he'd seen what bitterness and grudges could do to corrupt a person.
Severus and Albus had not been 'good' men. To some extent, it could be argued that they hadn't been 'brave' men. Many would raise objections at hearing both of them being spoken of as 'great' men as well.
But they were Harry's to do with as he wished, and he'd long since forgiven them.
So he gave his youngest son those two names, and every time Neville's nose wrinkled at hearing it, every time Hermione and Ron frowned worriedly at him, Harry remembered why.
Albus Severus Potter, named after two very different men, who would've both been absolutely disgusted in hearing their names combined into one and placed under the name of the Potter family. Though perhaps for somewhat different reasons. Albus had never been overly fond of his bitter professor, even if he used him to the fullest extent possible; and Severus had never been secretive over how much he utterly loathed all things 'Potter'.
And so in the end – whether Harry had forgiven them or not – every breath his son took, every great thing his son achieved, was another 'fuck you' to two people who definitely deserved it.
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Story: [A Good Girl]
Summary: The house was empty. Quiet. As always.
Genre: Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship
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The house was empty.
It was always empty.
Well, no. She was being unfair again. It wasn't always empty. It was just usually empty. She shouldn't lie. She knew better than that. She was better than that.
She was a good girl. Everyone agreed.
Well, almost everyone. But the other children weren't exactly a reliable source. She knew that. She was good at determining reliable sources, they'd told her. And she was. So she was a good girl. Definitely.
But still, the house was empty again. And it wasn't even disappointing anymore.
She wasn't sure if it ever had been.
The house was usually empty, and she'd come to expect it to the point where she didn't really hope for it to be not-empty. There was just no point. Statistically, it was usually empty, and so she accepted that it would be empty, even before checking.
She knew about statistics. Because she was a good girl, and did her homework.
Not like the other children.
She listened to adults, and she learned a lot. A lot more than the children who just ran around all day.
She'd never understand what was so great about running around and yelling. How were you supposed to learn, doing that?
No, the only conclusion was that she was better than the other children. Except-... People weren't supposed to be better than other people, so-... she supposed that she wasn't technically better than the other children. She was just more mature. Yes, that was it. More mature.
She went to school to learn things. After all, that's what school was for.
The house was empty, and when they finally came home they'd be tired. Too tired to do much more than smile at her. But they only did that if she was a good girl.
So she sat down to start on her homework, because she was a good girl.
The empty house remained just as quiet as it always was.
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She could do magic.
It was amazing and wonderful and maybe finally perhaps there would be children just like her. Maybe it was magic that made her more mature? Maybe now finally? Finally there would be someone that she could-... could reason with. Someone just like her.
Except-... not really.
The boy she'd helped on the train... he didn't seem like the type to run around and yell, but-... he wasn't like her.
They hadn't even read the books! How could they not have read the books? Was she the only one taking this seriously?
This was a school! Schools were meant to teach! You didn't learn things if you didn't do your homework!
It was even getting difficult to find a place to do homework. She was so used to the empty house, always silent, always lacking distractions, and now there were children running around and yelling everywhere.
She couldn't understand how anyone ever got anything done.
But the library was-... well, not quiet, not like the empty house. But the noise was muffled, muted. And she supposed that that would have to do.
Even if the other children sneered at her behind her back.
It wasn't as if they understood what was at stake, after all. She was a good girl, and she was more mature than they were. It only stood to reason that they would react just like all of the other children.
Apparently, it was being a good girl that meant that she was mature, not being magic.
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She didn't care.
She didn't care.
She didn't care!
She didn't care! She didn't care! Shedidn'tcare! Shedidn'tcare! Shedidn'tcare!
She rubbed at her eyes. It was quiet. Well-... mostly quiet anyway. She could hear herself hiccuping every now and then.
It was just a hiccup. She didn't care. She really didn't care! They were just children anyway! Not mature like her, they were just lashing out because she was more mature than they were!
She was a good girl, she didn't deserve this!
... did she?
She rubbed at her eyes again, hiccuping. She didn't care! She was a good girl, and they were just immature! They were children!
Sniffling a bit, she got up to her feet, opening the door.
It wasn't quiet anymore.
It was big. It smelled bad. It was armed. It looked angry.
She screamed.
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They were immature. They were children.
Of course they'd said things they didn't mean. Children did that.
But they'd-... for her. They'd come for her. To warn her.
So-... maybe... maybe if she just-... did something just a little bit... not-good? Just this once! Just this once...
They'd rescued her. And now they were in trouble for it. And good girls didn't get other people in trouble. Right? Right.
She opened her mouth.
And she lied.
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She didn't understand why everyone wanted to run around and yell all the time.
But... she got used to the noise.
It made doing homework a bit harder, and it sometimes forced her to stop. But... that just made it better somehow.
And every time, no matter whatever other seat might be open, they sat down next to her. Even when they would rather run around and yell, they would sit with her. And yell, usually. But they sat down.
And sometimes... every now and then, she would yell back at them.
And so it was, that Hermione Granger found her first true home. After all, in the end, home is where the heart is, and the heart has never cared about the roof over your head.
It was always about the smile on your lips.
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Story: [A Date]
Summary: The Yule Ball is approaching, they're both lacking dates, and at least this way they'll have something to laugh about.
Genre: Humor, Friendship, Romance
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"Wait, Hermione, you're a girl, right?" Ron was struck by a truly envious stroke of brilliance.
"I already have a date, Ron." Hermione ruthlessly rejected his brilliant deduction before it could even truly be vocalized.
Harry was impressed.
"What? Wait, seriously? Who?" Ron asked.
"None of your business." Hermione answered as she returned her attention back to her book.
"Oh, that's just not bloody fair at all." Ron complained as he slumped down in defeat. "Hermione's got a date, but we don't. Our lives are cruel and ironic."
"Oh, and what is that supposed to mean, Ronald?" She said sweetly.
Ron, clearly seeing no way out of his most recent social pickle – and knowing better than to rely on Harry's intervention, since it was every man for themselves in the face of Hermione's temper – decided to simply charge straight ahead. "Well-..." He paused, as if suddenly struck by another envious stroke of brilliance. "Harry, does it say anywhere that your date has to be a girl?"
Harry started to frown at him for suddenly dragging him back into this conversation when Hermione was still clearly on the war-path, but then actually registered the question. "Uhh, no?"
"Brilliant!" Ron grinned at him. "Listen, I've got a plan!"
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Harry knew that it was a bad plan. Quite possibly their worst plan yet – and, considering their time at Hogwarts so far, that was saying something.
But at the same time, it'd probably be less awkward than trying to ask a girl out, especially since Cho already had a date. Though, obviously, they'd probably be made fun of for it. At the same time however-... Harry's participation was mandatory, and he didn't really want to go with some random girl that he'd never talked to before.
It was like-... since Cho was unavailable, there wasn't much point in trying anyway, and at least this way it would be something they could look back on and laugh themselves silly over, rather than having them wince over the memory stepping on some poor unknown girl's feet.
It was a stupid idea, but it made perfect sense.
Hermione had also carefully avoided vetoing the idea on behalf of it not technically being against the rules.
It was a bit of a relief to know just how deeply they'd managed to corrupt their friend and dragged her deeper into their line of thinking over the years. Kind of funny too, but neither of them would be stupid enough to say that out loud in her presence.
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"You know..." Ron began as he held up the horrid thing that his mother had sent him for the Ball. "We totally don't match at all."
"We don't what now?" Harry asked, turning to look at him from his own bed.
"Match." Ron repeated. "Ginny's always going on about how pairs should dress up in matching clothes, you know?"
Harry did his very best not to laugh.
However, he was only human.
Ron understandably responded by tossing a pillow at him, and when Harry breathlessly rolled out of the way, he ended up crashing to the floor in an undignified heap.
"We could spell it green?" Harry wheezed a suggestion.
Ron turned his attention back to the horrible monstrosity that were his dress robes. "How? I think it might be old enough to have developed sentience. Maybe it'll just eat the spells?"
Which actually sounded like a reasonable concern. The dress robes looked awfully hungry.
"What if we just make it a sandwich?" Harry asked.
"No!" Ron paled. "I don't want to see what part of it that it'd use to eat it!"
Harry started laughing again.
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Hermione's jaw dropped open, as she froze on the landing.
Before her was the most insanely ridiculous scene that she'd ever seen.
"What in Merlin's name-...?" She asked.
"Hermione!" Harry greeted her with a vague shine of desperation in his eyes. "Tell Ron that he should just let me buy him new dress robes!"
"No, he shouldn't buy me anything!" Ron denied from where he was buried underneath what appeared to be a whole dorm's worth of sheets. "I'll make them myself, it can't be that hard!"
Hermione slowly, and very carefully – much in the same way one would when confronted with a dangerous wild animal – took a step back into her dorm, and closed the door.
Then she started to laugh.
Regardless of however this turned out, it was sure to be absolutely gloriously hilarious.
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"Yes, you look absolutely ridiculous in those, Ron." Hermione agreed.
"But-..." Ron started to argue.
"No, let Harry buy new ones for you. You're shooting up like a reed, and you're probably never going to get to wear them again, but this is kind of Harry's big night, so his opinion trumps yours this time." She interrupted his argument.
Ron frowned at her, clearly not pleased, but seemed to finally resign himself to the inevitable of relying on his best friend's money, rather than his own – apparently woefully lacking – sewing skills. "Fine. Just-... no bloody frills, Harry."
Harry looked up at him, and there was a certain malevolent spark of mischief in his eyes. "But Ronnie-kins, they go so great with your-...!"
The rest of his complaint was drowned out by him falling off his current chair from laughing too hard at Ron's expression.
Hermione rolled her eyes at both of them. "Boys."
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Harry couldn't help but grin cheerfully at McGonagall's expression.
Ron looked a little bit more nervous, most likely due to McGonagall probably not being above writing a letter to Mrs Weasley and phrasing it in a way that would land Ron with a howler the very next morning.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, she finally simply sighed. "I assume that you've decided who gets to lead in the first dance?"
And indeed they had. They'd even practiced it, though obviously neither of them had any great talent for dancing, nor any true inclination to acquire said talent.
Hermione was smiling at Viktor Krum, who was apparently her date. Krum was far too occupied with staring stunned at Hermione to notice anything strange about Harry's own chosen dance-partner. Cedric and Cho did notice but seemed to be carefully keeping their mouths shut on the subject. Fleur's date was too busy drooling at himself whilst staring at Fleur to notice much of anything, and Fleur's own reaction was nothing more than momentarily raising an eyebrow at them before turning her attention elsewhere.
All in all, Harry's 'date' seemed to pass the muster.
Though neither Harry nor Ron were expecting this night to be completely painless.
However, no matter how awkward it became, it would in all likelihood still be less uncomfortable than trying to find a female date.
Also, this way had the unexpected bonus of allowing all three Gryffindors to share a table during the meal. And it was indeed unexpected, because none of them had expected Hermione to land herself with Viktor Krum for a date.
They were going to have to ask her about that. And possibly stare menacingly at the boy trying to seduce their bookish almost-sister.
At least they would do so behind Hermione's back.
There was no way that Harry would be stupid enough to question the older boy's intentions when Hermione was sitting right there and had easy access to her wand.
And since Harry would be seated next to Ron, he should be able to keep the other boy from kicking the hornet's nest – it really came down to keeping his feet from hitting anything around him whenever they tried to stuff themselves inside of his mouth.
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Hermione carefully kept her eyes on her own dance-partner, and didn't pay any attention whatsoever to the two idiots cheerfully bumbling along in a surprisingly well-practiced approximation of dancing.
She only needed to know that they weren't making complete fools of themselves, then she could focus entirely on her own date.
It was kind of nice though, to see the two of them so cheerful. She'd expected that they would find dates of their own and would end up being too awkward to actually enjoy the night, but it seemed as if she'd worried for nothing.
Though from some of the borderline-snickering she was catching between her two best friends, she was willing to bet that they were channeling the Weasley twins into pretending to be as outrageously flirty as possible.
She wished the two of them luck.
Those idiots would probably need it.
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Neither Harry nor Ron had in any way expected Percy to be at the champions' table, but since neither of them actually wanted to talk to him – especially considering that he might actually decide to be a bit more vocal about the whole date-thing than the rest of the group had been so far – they'd manage to get seats as far away from him as possible.
They'd also strategically placed Hermione and her trigger-happy finger in between them. They were experienced enough in these kinds of things to have long since learned to make use of all resources available to them. Even if the resource in question raised a dangerous eyebrow in their direction from using her as a human shield.
Thankfully, Percy seemed to be willing to let this blatant act of avoidance slide, in all likelihood due to him and Ron not exactly seeing eye-to-eye and how they'd both always been quite honest about it. Clearly, Percy was happy to be here, so he was probably making a lot of use of some selective blindness to avoid his brother until a point in time where he wouldn't risk ruining his own evening over it.
Regardless, the food was good, the music was good, and after some derisive sneering from Malfoy's side of things about how to dance properly, both Ron and Harry were perfectly willing to agree to climb back onto the dance floor.
Two left feet or no, they'd sooner eat their own underwear than let Malfoy win an argument without a fight.
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Dress shoes, Harry decided with great conviction, were probably an evil far greater than Voldemort.
From the way that Ron winced as he limped around their dorm, he felt much the same.
Still, there was no doubt that they'd managed to beat Malfoy, with how the Slytherin's face had scrunched up in frustration somewhere halfway through the night. They'd also managed to avoid talking with Percy, which was nice, and even managed a certain united-front-of-protection towards Krum in regards to his intentions towards the final member of their trio.
All around, it'd been a pretty great night. Even if it'd managed to include far more dancing than Harry's life-quota of it. Thankfully, it was highly unlikely that anyone would try to host another ball in his future, so he might actually be in the clear already – which sounded downright fantastic.
Ron collapsed on the bed next to his. "Harry?" He asked, sounding an awful lot like he was staring down the gaping maw of an abyss. "Don't they have dancing on weddings and stuff?"
Harry paled. "No." He whimpered. "No more dancing. I can't do it."
There was an indistinct sound of understanding sympathy from Ron's bed. "We've got to figure out a way out of this, mate." The redhead agreed.
"Never get married?" Harry guessed.
"What if we're invited though?" Ron began to consider their need of proper backup plans.
"Assassinate the band-members during the ceremony?" Harry suggested, feeling his lips quirk into a smile.
"Egg the wedding couple, and then leg it?" Ron contributed with a grin of his own.
"Fake breaking our legs?" Harry remembered that having been suggested in regards to the Tournament.
"No way, mate. Hermione would catch us." Ron shook his head, rejecting that plan outright.
"Always go stag?" Harry made a face at the thought, he got the feeling there'd be some kind of complication if he ever tried. Fame could be annoying like that.
"Figure out a way to turn into a stag?" Ron suggested with a small laugh.
"No way, McGonagall would kill us." Harry rejected that plan outright as well.
"Find a date that hates dancing just as much as we do?" Ron came up with a new solution.
Harry frowned. "Where would we find one of those?"
Ron snorted a laugh. "Mate, we just totally went on a date, just yesterday."
Harry turned to look at his best friend. "Well... actually yeah, that'd make a lot of sense. But do you think we'd be able to get away with it?"
Ron shrugged. "Dunno, we might? Sure beats out trying to dance, at least."
Harry made a noise of agreement as he flipped over onto his back again, staring up at the ceiling. "Do you think Creevey got some good pictures of us killing Malfoy on the dance-floor?"
Ron startled, paused, and then started to laugh. "Probably."
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Hermione stared at her two best friends.
"I'm the third wheel?" She guessed.
Harry snickered, whilst Ron just looked confused.
"Don't worry Hermione, you're our best friend." Harry assured her, looking very much like he wanted to keep snickering about 'dating' Ron.
Hermione wondered briefly if they'd be losing the quotation marks anytime soon. It wasn't that she'd ever recognized any actual sexual tension or the like in between the boys, but it wasn't as if she'd really been looking for it, and she was willing to admit that she wasn't as well-versed in the details regarding social interaction as she wanted to be, so it was entirely possible that she'd missed something.
However, even if she hadn't, it was entirely possible that they might end up developing an actual romantic relationship based entirely around making excuses to avoid the dance-floor. She really wouldn't put that past either of them.
Boys could be such idiots.
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