Chapter 11: The First He Couldn't Persuade

'Bellatrix is acting like a woman possessed,' Lucius said, rolling his silvery grey eyes. 'I tell you, she will not rest until she has found the Dark Lord.'

He took another sip of his wine and then leant in, dropping his voice to a whisper. 'She doesn't need to hurry for my sake, however. Between you and me, I am quite pleased he is gone.'

Snape wiped his mouth with his expensive-looking linen napkin and then placed it slowly onto his lap again. He was trying to win time, since he had no idea what to say. Should he admit that he, too, was more than glad that Voldemort seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth? Or was Lucius just testing his loyalties?

Luckily, however, he was spared having to answer, as Lucius himself continued talking. 'I think Bellatrix has turned over every single stone in Britain over the last month, without success. And some of her theories about the Dark Lord's whereabouts were plain crazy. But tonight, I think she might just be on to something.'

'Who is she interrogating tonight?' Snape asked, feigning interest while refilling his glass. 'A Seer?'

Lucius snorted. 'Maybe we should gift her with a crystal ball for Christmas. Do you think she would appreciate it?' Then he grew serious again. 'Her newest trace leads her to an Auror,' he explained. 'For some reason, she thinks that he was present at Godric's Hollow the night the Dark Lord vanished. Which is ridiculous, of course. No one was there.'

Snape almost choked at his wine, suddenly realising his mistake. According to the Daily Prophet and the Auror office, there had indeed been no witnesses to the murder of the Potters and the attack on their son. But Snape knew better. In fact, he had known since the early hours of November first. Nadezhda had told him.

'Barty was there and the Lestranges,' she had said. 'They were fighting another man, but he Disapparated when he saw Bellatrix.'

Snape had never told Dumbledore. In fact, he had all but forgotten about Nadezhda's words. And even now, when he did remember them, they seemed hazy. Every time he tried to focus on them, they seemed to slip away. It was like trying to catch smoke. Still, he knew that he needed to act quickly.

Quite inelegantly, Snape pushed back his chair.

'Are you leaving already?' Lucius asked. 'We have not had dessert yet.'

Knowing perfectly well that it was the lamest excuse in the world, Snape claimed that the wine was going to his head.

'Lightweight,' Lucius muttered, but other than that, he did not object to Snape leaving so suddenly. The two men had known each other long enough for Lucius to know that there was no point arguing with Snape. And Snape in his turn could be quite confident that Lucius would never demand an explanation for why he had left so unceremoniously.

He Disapparated from right outside the kitchen door of Malfoy Manor, knowing that there was no time to lose and praying that it wasn't too late already.

YOU-KNOW-WHO'S CLOSEST FOLLOWERS CAPTURED

With an inaudible sigh, Snape put down his copy of the Daily Prophet and let his gaze wander over the four House tables in front of him. He knew that quite a few of the older students were subscribing to the Prophet and that they were reading the same headlines as he was, but there were only a few reactions to be observed. There was a seventh-year Ravenclaw nudging his mate and giving him a thumbs-up in front of his copy of the Prophet and a sixth-year Slytherin trying to set fire to the paper, but other than this, few of the students seemed to care. And who could blame them? Over the last six weeks, the front page of the Prophet had been about little else than Death Eaters who had been killed, captured or sent to Azkaban. Today's capture, even if it was claimed to be the one of 'You-Know-Who's closest followers', was just one of many for the students of Hogwarts. They neither knew nor cared who had been captured and why. Snape, however, knew only too well and cared more than he wanted to admit even to himself. And while he was glad that Bellatrix was finally behind bars, he wished that her latest crime could be undone. He wished that he had reacted more quickly.

He had found Dumbledore within minutes after his departure from Malfoy Manor, and it had not taken Dumbledore more than a few moments to sound the alarm. Less than a quarter of an hour later, a group of Aurors and Order members had stormed into the Longbottoms' house. But it had been too late. Bellatrix had already held her interrogation and gotten away. Frank and Alice had been rushed to St. Mungo's, where the country's best Healers had taken care of them, but after a few hours they had already given up hope.

Snape blinked fiercely in order to fight back the headache that he knew would threaten to split his skull in a couple of hours, but with no success. He could fight the pain just as little as he could fight his guilty conscience.

'You must not blame yourself for this,' Dumbledore had told him. 'Halloween was a stressful night for all of us. It is only natural that your mind has blocked out certain information. And even if you had remembered earlier, I am not convinced we could have stopped Bellatrix. She was quite determined.'

But Dumbledore's words did nothing to ease Snape's mind. He was a spy, for goodness' sake! Keeping all kinds of information and details in his head was what he was good at. How could he have forgotten? How could he not have remembered Nadezhda's account of what had happened at Godric's Hollow?

He should have alerted Dumbledore already on the morning of November first, and Dumbledore in his turn could have taken steps to protect the Longbottoms. With any luck, Bellatrix would have been caught before she had found them. But he had not told Dumbledore. And by the time he had remembered, Bellatrix had already hunted down the two Aurors. And now Frank and Alice were at St. Mungo's, had been there for almost two weeks. Most probably, the damage that Bellatrix had caused to their brains could never be reversed. For the time being, they did not even recognise their little baby boy.

Taking a deep breath to fight back the nausea his headache was causing, Snape once more picked up his newspaper, this time ignoring the front page, and started leafing aimlessly through the pages in order to occupy himself. But he did not get far. He had only just opened the Daily Prophet when there was a commotion at the Slytherin table. A cup was knocked over, a plate fell to the floor, and Nadezhda McKibben had vanished from the Great Hall even before Snape had really understood that it had been her dishes that now lay broken. But when he approached the Slytherin table to demand an explanation from her peers a few moments later, he quickly understood what had made her flee the breakfast table. Soaking wet with pumpkin juice, lay an issue of the Daily Prophet, opened on page two:

SHOCKING REVELATION ABOUT BARTEMIUS CROUCH, JUNIOR – THE SON OF THE HEAD OF MAGICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT CARRIES THE DARK MARK

Snape resisted the urge to bang his head into the nearest wall and took to staring at the two women in front of him instead. This day just kept getting worse!

Certainly, what the matron had just told him had a good side: it meant that Nadezhda McKibben fleeing the Great Hall at breakfast did not necessarily mean that the news about Barty's capture had upset her to tears. But the reason Madam Pomfrey had just presented him was at least just as disturbing.

'As Miss McKibben's Head of House, it is now your duty to take further steps,' McGonagall picked the thread after the matron. 'Her schedule will have to be adjusted at once. Flying is out of the question, of course, and so is Apparition. Furthermore, certain practical lessons may need to be replaced by theoretical ones. It is, for example, not recommended that expecting mothers spend more than thirty minutes at a time in a Potions classroom.'

It is not recommended? Snape's expression of shock turned into one of slight disbelief. There were guidelines for situations like this? How often did this happen?

'I am fully aware that this is the first time you have to handle a problem like this, Severus, and that it is not the most easy task to take on,' McGonagall continued, more than a little uncomfortable herself. 'You are young. You are a man. And ...'

'And if you feel that you cannot talk to the girl, I will try again. Or even Minerva ...'

'Dear Madam Pomfrey,' Snape interrupted the matron. 'I am more than capable of talking to one of my students.'

'I don't think Poppy is doubting your verbal skills, Severus,' McGonagall defended her colleague. 'I think what she is worried about is … your sense of tact.'

Snape raised his eyebrows and stared incredulously at the Deputy Headmistress for some moments before letting his gaze travel back to the matron without commenting on McGonagall's statement.

'I assume, Madam Pomfrey, that you have already talked to Miss McKibben about her options?' he enquired.

'Yes, of course, I have,' the matron replied. 'I went through all the medical aspects with her.'

'And I have informed her about her options concerning the continuation of her studies,' McGonagall butted in once more. 'After all, she has one more year to complete before her NEWTs.'

'Then what, if I may ask, am I to talk to Miss McKibben about?' Snape wondered. If he were honest, he would admit that talking about a pregnancy with any of his female students was a task he would rather not be given. It was far too … personal.

The two women in front of him looked at each other and shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

'Well?' Snape pressed.

'Severus, the girl is in a vulnerable state right now,' McGonagall started hesitantly. 'He father has been murdered less than two months ago. I do not think that she is capable of making the right decision at the moment.'

'Has Miss McKibben made any kind of decision yet?' Snape asked.

Once more, the two women looked at each other, each silently imploring the other to speak. And Snape prepared himself for the worst.

In the end, it was the matron who plucked up the courage to talk: 'Severus, the girl made it quite clear that she intends to keep the baby and not finish her education.'

But of course.

Had he been alone, Snape would have let out a heavy sigh and buried his face in his hands. But he was not alone, and McGonagall and Pomfrey were in quite a state already. There was no use in him losing his composure as well.

'Are you telling me,' he growled instead, 'that you want me to talk to Miss McKibben in order to make her change her mind? Do you want me to talk her into having an abortion?'

'Of course not!' Madam Pomfrey exclaimed. 'Far from it! Trust me, Severus, unless the health of the mother or the child is in danger, I would never suggest ...'

'And there are ways for young mothers to continue their magical education,' McGonagall added. 'She could get a private tutor. We could adjust her schedule ...'

'Would you two please make up your mind?' Snape snapped, quite rudely interrupting the Deputy Headmistress. A minute ago, she and the matron had told him to talk to Miss McKibben because she had decided to keep the child and drop out of school, and now that he had mentioned the possibility of an abortion, they were getting all upset. What, by Merlin's beard, did they want from him?

'Severus,' McGonagall started again, twisting her hands and obviously fighting to regain control over her emotions, 'The decision lies, of course, with Miss McKibben. Poppy and I have given her all the advice a matron, a Deputy Headmistress and two caring women can offer. But we feel that the girl has difficulties opening up to us. You, however, she might talk to. You are her Head of House, after all.'

Snape snorted. 'Are you suggesting that a seventeen-year-old girl would rather discuss her pregnancy with her male Head of House than the matron or the Deputy Headmistress? What will you have me do next? Talk about menstruation with the second-years?'

'Severus, please,' McGonagall said imploringly, gracefully ignoring the Potions master's sarky comment. 'Give it a try. Talk to the girl. If nothing else, you talking to her will scare her enough for her to come running to Poppy later.'

'Thank you for that kind assessment of my social skills, Professor McGonagall,' Snape replied sourly, realising that McGonagall had once more outsmarted him. She had set him a challenge and knew he would take it, just as any Slytherin would.

'I need some more information before I talk to Miss McKibben,' he pointed out, turning towards the matron. 'How far along is she?'

'About six weeks in,' Madam Pomfrey informed him. 'If she decides not to keep the baby, I'd recommend that she take the potion before the new year. It's the easiest and least painful method. After that, we would have to use spells and ...'

Snape rose his hand to stop Poppy. Now that she was talking about a termination, he suddenly understood why she and McGonagall had reacted so vehemently when he had mentioned the same option. This was an innocent life they were talking about. Two innocent lives, actually: the life of the unborn child and the life of the young mother. Was there even a way that they could both be saved? Could anyone demand that Nadezhda gave birth to the child of a Death Eater?

Stealing himself for one of the worst conversations he had ever held, Snape bid the matron and the Headmistress goodbye and headed for the dungeons.

Less than five minutes after he had sent an elf to fetch her, Nadezhda McKibben was standing in front of her Head of House. As always, her appearance was immaculate: her robes were unwrinkled, her black hair carefully braided and her eyes chastely cast to the floor.

Snape looked at her for a few moments before greeting her and then rose to ward the door. What they had to discuss was not for anyone else to hear, nor would either of them appreciate any form of interruption.

On his way back to his desk, Snape pulled up a chair. 'I believe it is custom for a man to offer a pregnant woman a seat.'

As he had expected, Nadezhda's head snapped up, and she came to look directly at him. But when he looked into her eyes, Snape wished that he had never made her look at him. He had expected surprise, embarrassment maybe, or a plea for help. But instead, he was once more gazing into a pair of green eyes that were just as void of any warmth and life as the gems the Dark Lord had once compared them with.

Slightly taken aback, Snape rephrased his offer. 'Please, have a seat, Miss McKibben.'

She did as she was told, and by the time Snape had returned to his own chair, Nadezhda was sitting with her back straight and her hands neatly folded in her lap. The look in her eyes, however, had not changed.

Snape leant back in his chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest. 'As your Head of House, I am responsible for you while you are at this school. Thus, I have been informed of your …'

He paused, not wanting to pronounce the word pregnancy. It made the whole situation far too real.

''I have been informed about your medical condition,' he continued. 'I have also been informed about your intentions of keeping this baby.'

For a split second, he could see something in her green eyes. A shadow, the ghost of a question, maybe. But he never had the time to figure it out, as the emeralds were almost immediately covered with dark lashes.

'Too many innocent people have died already,' came Nadezhda's quiet response. 'I will not be responsible for the death of another one.'

Silly little witch, Snape thought, biting back the words. He could understand her argument, but at the same time, it made little sense.

'You are still in school,' he pointed out patiently. 'Are you planning on brining the infant to Potions class in September?'

'I am not planning on coming back in September at all.'

Snape nodded. 'Professor McGonagall informed me that there are ways for young mothers to continue their schooling. I doubt you are the first one to be in this situation. There is no reason for you to not finish your magical education.'

'I do not want to, sir,' Nadezhda replied, and Snape could see her shaking hands disappear in the folds of her robes. 'I have seen what magic can do. I am tired of it.'

'And what exactly, are you planning on doing once your child is born? The wizarding world is rather old-fashioned, Miss McKibben. Young single mothers without a proper education are not exactly able to pick and choose between job offerings.'

'My father left me a well-filled vault at Gringotts. And I have already spoken to Mr Malfoy about selling the manor. He already has a potential buyer and assured me that he will get a good price. The money should sustain me and my child for a good couple of years. By the time I run out of money, I will have figured out what to do with my life.'

Snape sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The girl sure had thought it through, and her plan seemed watertight. What was he to tell her now?

Knowing that it was a dirty trick, he grasped for his very last straw of hope. 'And what, Miss McKibben, are you planning on telling your child the day it's old enough to ask about its father? Are you going to admit that he was Death Eater?'

'All this child ever needs to know about its father is that he was nothing but kind to me even though he didn't have to and that he looked out for me when I was in danger.'

'Isn't that a bit romantic, Miss McKibben?' Snape enquired.

The breath caught in Snape's throat as Nadezhda lifted her head to look at him. Like on the day at McKibben manor, under the willow by the lake, her eyes were now filled with a compassion and an honesty that was beyond anything he had ever seen.

'It is nothing but the truth, sir.'

Unable to break eye contact, Snape nodded, feeling his heart go out to the young woman in front of him. He was certain that she keep her word. She would tell her child that its father had been a good man. He was also certain that she wholeheartedly believed it herself.