November 1994
Hogwarts Dungeons
Florence was opening the door to leave her husband's private quarters and go to the Hospital Wing, after having just woken up from her after-lunch nap, when she heard Hermione shouting in the next corridor, near the door of the potions classroom:
"HARRY! DON'T!"
And then there was Draco's voice:
"Go on, then, Potter," he said quietly, "Moody's not here to look after you now – do it, if you've got the guts."
Florence dashed towards the voices as quickly as she possibly could with her hidden six-month-pregnant belly, but before she got close, spells were cast:
"Furunculus!" Harry yelled.
"Densaugeo!" screamed Draco.
And she reached the corridor just in time to see the jets of lights shoot from both their wands, hit each other mid-air, and ricochet off at angles – Harry's spell ended up hitting Goyle in the face, and Draco's got Hermione.
Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up. While Hermione, whimpering in panic, was clutching her mouth.
"Hermione!" Ron ran to her to see what was hurting her.
Florence saw Ron drag Hermione's hand away from her face and winced – it wasn't a pretty sight: Hermione's front teeth were now growing at an alarming rate; the girl was crying and looking terrified.
Florence walked to her and pulled her close.
"Don't worry, dear. Let's go to the hospital wing, I will fix it for you in a heartbeat," she looked at the Slytherins, "As for you-"
"And what is all this noise about?" Severus asked showing up in the corridor, his eyes quickly going to his wife and then to the students.
They were fighting. There were spells. Florence quickly summarised.
He nodded once, letting her know he had heard her, and then the students started to speak at the same time, trying to give their explanations.
Severus pointed a finger at Draco Malfoy.
"Explain."
"Potter attacked me, sir!"
"We attacked each other at the same time!" Harry shouted, but Severus ignored.
Florence grimaced inwardly, knowing what would come out of that situation: more injustices for Harry.
That's what I have to do, love. Severus sent her.
I know. She replied, sadly.
"He tried to attack me, but hit Goyle, sir. Look!" said Draco, pointing at his friend.
Severus examined Goyle, whose face was covered in fungi.
"Hospital wing, Goyle," Severus said calmly.
"Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said, "Look!"
And the girl moved her face away from Florence's chest to show the teacher her teeth.
He looked coldly at her and said: "I see no difference."
Bloody hell, Severus. Florence admonished him; she knew he had a role to play there in front of the students, but she wanted to punch him in that moment, he was being cruel.
Hermione started crying and Florence pulled her to a hug again.
"Come on, dear," Florence murmured, "I'll take you to the infirmary," she glanced at her husband daring him to stop her.
Please take her. He said, with carefully veiled concern. And don't let her come back to class.
Florence turned and walked upstairs with a sobbing Hermione; as they moved away, she could hear Harry and Ron shouting at Severus at the same time.
It was confusing and she couldn't really understand what the boys were saying, but Severus got the gist.
"Let's see," he drawled in his silkiest voice, "Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside the classroom, or it'll be a week's worth of detentions."
Hospital wing
"Wait for me here, Hermione," said Florence, helping the girl sit on a bed, "I'll get you some calming draught," and she looked at Pomfrey, who was finishing treating the Slytherin student.
"That's all I can do for you, Mr Goyle," said Pomfrey, "Put this cream on your face tonight after showering and tomorrow the fungi will all be gone."
The boy just nodded and left, no 'thank you' or any other sign of appreciation or politeness.
Florence went to the storage room and returned, stopping in front of Hermione again, moving her wand and slowly reverting the spell Malfoy had hit her with.
But Hermione touched her hand before she had finished, "Can you make them prettier, Madam Delacour?"
Florence eyed her knowingly, "Aren't your parents dentists, Hermione?"
"Yes, but they want me to wear braces! Please, Madam Delacour! Make them pretty. Please?"
Florence thought for a while and then she conceded: "Alright, dear."
After she had finished fixing the girl's teeth, she gave her a dose of calming draught, "You can rest now."
"But I'm fine," said Hermione.
Florence looked at her with an arched eyebrow, "Do you want to go to potions class? If I let you go, you'll have to go to class."
Hermione winced, "Well, not really, but I don't like skipping classes..."
"Hermione," Florence held her arm, "Relax, dear. Whatever Severus is teaching today, you probably already know," she looked at Pomfrey, noticing that Hermione still seemed uncertain about just relaxing instead of going to class, "Madam Pomfrey, don't you think Miss Granger is too nervous to go to class?"
"Oh, yes, Madam Delacour. Look at her! She's having a huge nervous breakdown! We can't let you out of here today, my dear."
Hermione smiled and lay back on the pillow, knowing they were doing that to help her have a moment to rest.
Then she looked at Florence, "You're so nice. How can you...?" she glanced at Pomfrey.
"She knows, Hermione," Florence said, "You can speak freely in front of Poppy."
The Gryffindor girl nodded and continued: "How can you be married to him?"
"Severus was cruel today, yes, but he had no other choice. If he had favoured you instead of the Slytherin students, Draco would've written to his father as soon as the class had ended and we'd have to deal with Lucius Malfoy being suspicious of us," she looked at the girl, "Do you understand how dangerous that would be?"
"Yes," Hermione whispered, surprised, "I hadn't thought of that."
"It's alright. Now relax. After five, once class is over, you can leave to go see the champions being chosen tonight."
"Will you stay tonight, Florence?" Pomfrey asked.
"No. I'll go home to stay with my son and rest. His grandma can't look after him tonight – she's got a boyfriend; but don't tell Severus that," she winked at Hermione.
And the girl laughed, closing her eyes, feeling the calming draught taking effect, and soon she was falling asleep.
Later that day
Snapes' family home
Florence had picked up Chris at Hogsmeade's Primary School and taken him home at five-thirty; then they had played, watched cartoons and eaten. After dinner, the boy took a shower and lay down in bed, where Florence caressed his hair until he fell asleep.
Florence, then, went to her room and showered before bed, trying to sleep too, but she couldn't – she had a feeling something wasn't right.
Severus was supposed to go home after the Three Champions had been chosen, but it was past midnight and he hadn't arrived yet.
She walked back downstairs to the living room and sat on the sofa to watch some TV; another hour went by, she was almost falling asleep on the sofa when the flames in the fireplace turned green and her husband showed up.
"Severus," she said, sitting up, knowing by his expression that something had gone very wrong, "What happened?"
He sighed and removed his soot-covered coat, saying: "There are... four Champions."
"Are you fucking kidding me?!" she exclaimed, already knowing who was the fourth one.
He shook his head: "Cedric Diggory, Viktor Krum, your cousin Fleur... and Harry," Severus sat beside her on the sofa.
"How is that even possible? What about the new age rule? And how did the goblet accept a fourth school?"
"As everything else that happens to Harry: we can't explain it. We have no idea how the Goblet of Fire sorted his name, it was supposed to sort three- it has been sorting three names for centuries!"
Florence looked at him with incredulity, "Why can't anything be normal in his life?"
"I have to say that when I saw the goblet firing up after the three names had been sorted, I knew it was Harry's name in that flying burnt piece of paper even before Dumbledore read it."
"He's fourteen," she quickly came up with a way to solve that, "The rules were clear: only seventeen or older. He just has to be disqualified!"
Severus touched her hair, "I'm afraid it won't be that simple. We had a meeting right after that and I suggested that all Harry has to do is fail the first task by not showing up, then he'll be out of the competition, simple as that. However, Alastor Moody said it would be a coward's move and that Gryffindors aren't cowards."
Florence growled: "Blasted Moody! He's even crazier than I remembered! Sometimes he stops by the infirmary door and stares at me for a few minutes. It's creepy."
"He's been searching my office and my storage room weekly... as if I'm a criminal."
She sighed heavily, "He'd have locked you up already, if he could, and you know it."
"Yes. I know. He actually said that Dumbledore was the only thing keeping him from killing me when I helped him hunt death eaters many years ago," he exhaled in irritation, "Despite Moody's opinion, Dumbledore agreed with me that Harry should just fail the first task – problem solved. But then... Barty Crouch said that having one's name sorted by the Goblet of Fire constitutes a binding magical contract, therefore Harry can't simply not try."
Florence couldn't believe that, she looked at her husband, deeply concerned.
"This is really bad, Severus. These tasks are usually very dangerous. People have died – and more than once – in these Tournaments. Harry is just fourteen!"
"And there's more..." he continued, kissing her shoulder, "Moody believes there is someone in the castle that wants Harry dead. His theory is that someone bewitched the Goblet of Fire so that it would sort out four Champions and the only student from this made-up fourth school was Harry – so he'd be picked without a doubt."
"That's probably how it did happen," she tilted her head, "However, who inside Hogwarts would want Harry dead? Who put his name in the Goblet?"
"Anyone would say that I did it," Severus said, smiling, "But we know I don't want him dead. So I have no idea, but maybe Dumbledore does."
"He's letting this happen!" Florence said, angrily, "This is probably why he wanted to host the Tournament in first place: to lure my father's followers out of the shadows and into the castle!"
"It's quite possible," he nodded.
When she didn't say anything else, he tilted her face up for a kiss and changed the subject: "Is Chris asleep?"
"Yes," Florence rested her head on his shoulder, "Poor Harry, I wish I could just bring him home and let him rest for a month."
"I know, love. Earlier today, when I had to give him and Weasley detention..." Severus shook his head, "It was cruel. Poor Granger."
"Yeah. But she's fine. I fixed her teeth and let her rest in the infirmary."
"You did right," he caressed her hair. "I couldn't have her back in class, I'd have had to humiliate her again. It would've been horrible."
"What will we do about Harry, Sev?" she murmured, concerned.
"We'll keep an eye on him and help him complete the tasks. You can help him through Granger and I can ask Dobby to help him."
"Dobby's in the castle now?" she frowned.
"Yes. He is a free elf, but he wants to be close to Harry."
"Good. Yeah. That's a good plan. We can help him," she said, noticing her husband had hesitated, he was about to say something but stopped, "What is it, Sev?"
He grimaced and didn't say anything, he just rolled up his left arm sleeve, showing it to her.
"Oh, no," she whispered, looking at his Dark Mark, "It's darker."
"Yes, it is," he exhaled, "Unless you've been around torturing people, this can only mean one thing: your father is finding a way back."
Florence gulped and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him as close as her belly allowed.
"It'll be ok, love. We have a plan," he tried to reassure her.
"Just hold me, Sev, just... hold me," she cried against his neck, the fear of losing him taking over her.
"You'll cast the cloaking spell on the kids as soon as Sophie is born," he spoke softly, reassuring her, "Except for the twins, none of them are registered, love. Anyone at Beauxbatons or in Hogsmeade that knows about them will forget as soon as you cast the spell. The Ministry has no records of them. Just the twins legally exist."
"I know, I know all of that. But I worry about you," Florence put both hands on his face, "I can't lose you! You can't die! And I can't put a spell on you."
He winked at her, "You already have, princess."
She scoffed: "Can't believe you're being corny now," she closed her eyes, more annoyed than amused, "You know what I mean," she looked into his eyes again, "I don't want Sophie to grow up without knowing the amazing dad she has."
"You'll tell her about me," Severus whispered.
And her eyes had never turned light-green faster than at that moment; her veela getting into battle-mode at the mention of a future where he died.
"Shut up, Severus, or I'll hex you! I swear I'll fucking hex you!" she kissed him, feeling his arms around her, smelling his scent and listening to the steady beat of his heart.
She closed her eyes, letting his presence lull her to sleep.
Severus held her just like that for another hour, letting the tears of fear roll down his face now that she wasn't awake.
He wished they could run away with their family, hide somewhere no one would ever find them.
He regretted more than ever having joined the death eaters. He knew if he died, Florence would soon follow – if she died, he wouldn't survive a day either.
But that would leave their kids orphans; their beautiful family would be destroyed if either of them died.
And that was how he knew he couldn't – and wouldn't – let her father kill him.
Florence fisted her hand on his shirt, as if sensing his turmoil even in her sleep.
"I'm here, my love. And I'm not going anywhere," he promised her in a whisper, carrying her upstairs to their bed.
Two days later
Hospital Wing
Florence was sitting by the window, looking at the snow-covered grounds, her body fighting a huge wave of nausea and weakness that had her about to vomit and faint at the same time.
Pomfrey watched her from her desk, worried. Florence was a strong woman, a formidable witch, but that pregnancy was turning into a huge danger due to all the stress of the upcoming war and Severus's unescapable role in it.
"Are the potions helping you, Flor?" she asked.
"Yes, Poppy. I'm not feeling the room spin anymore," Florence replied, slowly getting up.
Then they heard hurried steps in the corridor and the door was opened to allow in Prof. McGonagall and a very disturbed Draco Malfoy.
"What happened?" Pomfrey asked.
"Alastor used transfiguration on Mr Malfoy!" explained McGonagall, "I want you to keep him under observation this afternoon. Just to make sure there are no long-lasting effects."
"Of course, professor," said Florence, smiling, "Lie down on this bed, Mr Malfoy."
And the boy obeyed, avoiding looking at her – which let her know whatever the reason for his punishment, he knew he had been in the wrong.
"What did he transfigurate you on?" she asked him.
"A ferret, Ma'am."
"Alright," Florence ran her wand over his body, checking for any remnants of the animal in him, "Well, you might feel the need to eat more meat in the next couple of days and maybe even dance."
He looked at her in confusion, "Dance?"
"Yes. Ferrets do this cute little dance when they're happy, so if something makes you happy in the near future it's normal to feel an urge to dance. Also, you should avoid eating sugar – that's dangerous for ferrets. Other than that... you seem fine, Draco," she lowered her wand, "Now, what did you do to warrant being punished by a teacher?"
"I... I'd rather not tell you, Ma'am."
"Hm. So I'll have to call your Head of House here and you'll have to tell him."
His grey eyes filled up with anxiety, "No! No, please. Don't call godfather here. I'll tell you!" He fidgeted with the bed covers and then he spoke: "I was teasing Potter. Said my father and I have a bet he won't last long in the Tournament."
Florence frowned, looking at him disappointedly, "Do you think Harry's name showing up in the Goblet was a funny prank, Draco?"
He shook his head, "Not really, no. He's just fourteen, he might die during the tasks."
"Exactly. And are Slytherins murderers, Draco?" she narrowed her eyes at him, "Do we revel in watching other people suffer?"
He quickly shook his blond head again, "No, Ma'am."
"Good. Find another way to tease Harry, if you must. But do not make jokes about him dying in the Tournament."
"Yes, Ma'am," he nodded.
"I'll let Severus know you've been punished enough."
"Thank you," he whispered, adding shyly: "Can I walk a little? I feel like... moving for some reason."
"Ferrets are very active pets, Draco," she let him know with a smile, "Of course you can move. I'll ask the kitchens for a high-protein snack for you as well," and she flooed to the dungeons to tell her husband to spare Draco of a detention – the boy had been humiliated enough.
November 22nd 1994
Two days before the First Task
Florence was called by Hagrid to assist him on looking after the students while they worked with some dangerous animals that afternoon.
She walked slowly through the castle grounds towards the entrance of the Forbidden Forest, where she saw Hagrid already standing with his class.
From afar she could see that the students were walking with an animal on a brown leather lead – the animal they were supposedly studying was red and greyish, looking like a mash between a huge scorpion and a headless crab.
"Hello, Prof. Hagrid," she greeted him.
"Hey, Florence. Great that ya came! But we had no accidents so far!"
She smiled, soon frowning as she recognised the leashed animals: "Hagrid, are those Blast-Ended Skrewts?"
"Yes! Looks like they're having a blast, doesn't it?" Hagrid said happily.
Florence thought he meant the Skrewts, because the students definitely weren't enjoying it in the least.
There was a loud explosion and some screams. Apparently, one of the things had blown up and the other Skrewts got scared and began running and dragging the student on the other end of their leash with them.
Florence raised her wand, casting: "Immobilus!" and the animals stopped running.
"Students!" she shouted, "Grab your skrewts and carefully put them back into their cages. Those of you who are hurt but can walk: go to the infirmary; those who can't... I'll see what I can do for you right here," she looked around, but luckily no one was too hurt to walk, so she stayed close to them while they secured the animals into their cages.
"How is Harry?" she asked Hagrid.
"Not good. The others are ignoring 'im, ya know? Ron's not talkin' to 'im anymore. And some are mockin' 'im. Malfoy's got some badges that say bad things 'bout 'im..."
She sighed heavily, "I know, I've seen them," Then she paused, checking on the students, before adding: "Fourteen years old and he's the-boy-who-lived and a Triwizard Champion... seems like everything happens to him, right?"
"Yeah," Hagrid agreed.
"Keep an eye on him and tell me if he needs anything, will you?"
"Of course, Florence. I'll let ya know if anything happens."
"Thanks, Prof. Hagrid."
Florence was walking back to the castle slowly, when Hermione Granger came towards her.
"Hi, Madam Delacour. Since I'm not a Champion in the Tournament, can I ask you a question about it?"
"Of course, dear. Even if you were a Champion, you could ask me anything," she winked at her.
"Well, yesterday Harry learned that the first task involves dragons," the girl whispered, "Is it true?"
Florence grimaced and nodded, "Unfortunately, yes, Hermione. Does Harry already know about the egg?"
"Yes. He's supposed to get it, right?"
"Yes. And does he know how he'll do it?"
"No. He had this idea of using his broom, but he's not allowed to take it with him."
Florence looked at Hermione, as if the answer was obvious: "No, but he's allowed a wand. You can teach him how to make his broom go to him."
Hermione looked at her in surprise: "Of course! Thank you, Madam Delacour!" and she ran through the Entrance Courtyard.
The First Task
Florence was inside the first aid tent, taking care of Cedric Diggory and keeping an eye on the entrance of the tent – waiting for Harry to arrive.
She had refused to watch her godson having to outsmart a dragon to reach a stupid meaningless egg; she knew that would only make her nervous and she was already in a anxiety-ridden enough state.
"Dragons!" shouted Pomfrey, furious, "Last year we had bloody dementors; this year, fucking dragons!" then she looked at the door of the tent, exclaiming: "Harry!"
Florence turned and saw the boy limping into the tent. She immediately went to him, helping him walk to a clean bed and sit.
"I'm afraid to ask what will be next!" continued Pomfrey, "What could be worse than dementors and dragons? Chimaeras?"
Florence chuckled at Pomfrey's rant, her eyes never leaving Harry as she moved her wand over his body.
"You were very lucky," she said to him, with a smile, "You only have superficial cuts and burns. I'll clean them all and give you an ointment to apply after the shower; you'll be brand new by tomorrow," Florence looked at him, relieved that he was safe and had amassed just simple injuries after escaping a full-grown dragon, "Now you wait here and your score will be read soon."
Pomfrey walked to the other side of the tent, asking: "How are you feeling, Mr Diggory?"
Harry looked at Florence and, as always, he had a strange feeling that he knew her; it was like she was part of his past, only he couldn't remember how or where.
But before he could ask her whether she knew him before Hogwarts or not, his friends walked into the tent.
"Harry, you were brilliant!" Hermione shouted, hugging him.
But Harry's eyes were fixed on his other friend; Ronald Weasley stood beside his bed, looking at his own feet, visibly ashamed of something.
"Harry," the red-haired boy began, "I believe you, you didn't put your name in the Goblet of Fire. But... whoever did it wants you dead, mate!"
Florence smiled as the boys hugged and she left the tent, looking for her husband.