Agony, sorrow, and rage course through Severus' veins. It clouds his vision and causes his hands to shake at his sides as he tries desperately to control the sobs coming from his throat.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
He tells himself as he puts one foot in front of the other.
Fix your face!
Wipe that look off of your face!
His father's voice rings in his head as he narrows his eyes, an attempt to remove the misery contorting his face into something unrecognizable.
Before him, looking incredibly smug in his periwinkle robes, a twinkle in his eye, and a smirk on his face is Albus Dumbledore. Severus clenches his fists in his robes, the fabrics seam biting into his flesh, an attempt to keep from ripping the man apart with his bare hands.
"You told me- swore to me that you would keep them safe!" Severus barks, droplets of saliva escape his mouth and splatter against Albus' half-moon spectacles. The man smiles up at him, removes the glasses from his face, wipes them on his robes, and crosses his hands before him on the mahogany desk.
"They put their faith in the wrong person, Severus." Albus says calmly.
"My daughter? My daughter put her faith in the wrong person? She was a child! She is dead, they are all dead, and it is your fault!" Severus rages as he slams his fists down on the desk, causing Albus to flinch slightly.
"Are you suggesting that it was I who killed your child, Severus?" Albus asks, raising one brow at him as he collapses into a chair and buries his face in his hands. "Miss Black-apologies, Missus Snape, mistakenly put her faith in you. This unfortunately cost not only her own life, but that of her daughter as well."
"Just kill me, Albus. Please. I cannot go on." Severus sobs as he balls his fists in his hair.
"We have been through this, Severus. What good would that do?"
"I have given everything. I have lost my wife, my child. Potter is dead, Minerva is dead. Everyone that I know is dead. I have nothing left to live for, nothing left to give."
"Harry's son lives. He will need our protection."
"I do not care, Albus." Severus snaps as he lifts his head to glare at the old wizard before him, tears stream from his swollen, red eyes. He makes no move to mask them. "I have nothing left to give. I am tired. I do not want to do this anymore!"
"You told me, once upon a time, that you would do anything, give anything, if I saved Lily Potter's life. I saved yours in the process, Severus. I would have been well within bounds to kill you that day on the cliffs, could have given you up a thousand times over."
"I wish you would have. I do not want to live."
A pounding from behind him catches his attention, he tries to ignore it should he erupt at whomever is on the other side. Every ounce of his anger will rightfully be directed at Albus Dumbledore; no one can take this from him, he will not allow it.
"Severus!" The person on the other side shouts as the pounding continues, he grits his teeth and glares at Albus.
Severus makes to stand when the memory of his wife caressing his cheek overcomes him. He shakes his head as his face contorts in agony once more. A sob wracks his body, his chest is hollow, his stomach twisting in knots. He wishes to throw himself from the Headmasters balcony. He wishes to place the tip of his wand to his temple and whisper the killing curse. With any luck, there will be an afterlife in which he will be reunited with his family, will feel his wife's hand against his cheek once more, feel the weight of his daughter in his arms. At the very least there will be nothing. No pain, no hurt, no memories.
The whisper of her caress remains on his cheek, taunting him, mocking him. For a brief second he leans into it, hoping to etch it into his memory for the rest of eternity.
"Are you ill, Severus?"
Her voice cuts the silence, startling him. He opens his eyes to find her sitting on the side his bed, the faint rays of morning sunlight bleeding in through his curtained window dance around her, creating a halo effect that is blinding to his newly woken eyes. The weight of her body as she perches on the edge of the bed causes the mattress to dip down, heat radiates from her body even through the thick quilt draped across him. It had all been a dream. Severus closes his eyes once more and lets out a deep breath as her soft, warm hand brushes the hair from his face before her wrist rests on his forehead, no doubt checking him for fever.
She is alive.
Lorna is alive.
Potter is alive.
Minerva is alive.
The Dark Lord is dead.
Albus is dead.
"Are you alright, Severus?" She coos gently, her voice a brighter ray of light than the actual sunlight filtering through the room. "I knocked, but you didn't answer. I got worried, so I let myself in. You really don't look well."
She curls her fingers and starts to bring them to his forehead once more, Severus dodges her attempts to mother him and sits up in bed. She may be a mother, but she is not his mother.
"I overslept, that is all. I am fine, though I appreciate your concern." Severus exits from the opposite side of the bed and reaches for his clothes folded neatly in his armoire before stepping behind a divider in the corner of the room. "Now, if you will excuse me."
Severus dresses quickly, his fingers shake slightly as he buttons is shirt. He finds himself nervous for the day ahead. He has experience with children, though none as young as Lorna. Draco had been the only small child he had ever been around as an adult, and he is now a grown, married man.
As he emerges from behind the divider he is met with Lorna curled into a tight ball at the foot of the bed, he had not even noticed her weight near where his feet would have been moments before. Her face is buried in the mattress, a stuffed hippogriff clutched tightly to her chest. She wears a pair of pink pajamas with white puffskeins, the right leg is bunched up to her knee, the left sleeve stretched so low her fist disappears within.
Kneeling on the floor before the bed is her mother. She soothes Lorna's thick, untidy hair from her face and kisses her forehead. Lorna moans in protest, grips the edge of the quilt, and rolls in the opposite direction, taking the stuffed hippogriff and quilt with her. All that can be seen of her now is a wisp of black hair peeking out from the fold of the blanket.
"She doesn't like mornings." Her mother explains as she lifts herself from the ground. "Are you sure you're okay? I can figure something else out if you aren't feeling well."
"I overslept, that is all." Severus says with a sigh as he turns and begins to boil the kettle for tea.
It had been a nightmare, nothing more than that, yet he is unable to escape the ache clinging to his soul. Even hours later when Lorna finally emerged from the blankets complaining about being hungry. Or later than evening when she smiled up at him and dropped four horned slugs into his bubbling cauldron of Boil-Cure Potion, and his heart dropped at the remembrance of the misery that had coursed through him in that damned dream.
—
Severus makes his way down the hall of Malfoy Manor, his steps echoing off of the walls and vibrating in his hollow chest cavity. The Dark Lord had called to him, his urgency evident in the intense burn of his arm.
All eyes turn to meet him as he enters the room. Some are full of sorrow, others full of fear, a few nothing but pure joy.
A pile of bodies lie in the center of the room. Most of their faces are turned from his gaze, though he could tell who they once were based on the color of their hair, the shape of their body, the style of robes pooled on the floor. Minerva is on top; her tight bun had come loose and her hair spills across the marble floors. Next to her outstretched hand lies her crumpled glasses. Beneath her is Madam Pince, next to her is Poppy. There is Madam Rosmerta, Madam Rosemarie, Filch and his cat, Sybill, Aurora, countless students he had taught throughout the years. Every last one of them are dead.
Dangling above the table is Draco, is eyes frozen in terror. He is already dead, and very recently so. The color still remains in his cheeks, a single tear flows from his eyes. His mother can't seem to pry her eyes from his lifeless face.
"Severus." The Dark Lord hisses, causing his blood to run cold. "How good of you to join us. You have missed all of the fun."
A few chuckles come from around the table. As Severus makes his way down the table towards The Dark Lord, he trips over his wife's corpse curled on the floor. Her white sundress ripped to shreds, blood trailing from her body crumpled on the floor, to the door on the far end of the room. She looked just as she had the day he had married her. He closes his eyes for a nanosecond and swallows hard before taking his seat at The Dark Lord's right side. A small whimper catches his attention, his ears prick slightly as a chill runs down his spine. He knows that whimper, he has heard it before.
"Daddy." The voice cries from somewhere in the pile of bodies.
Bile rises in his throat; his hands begin to tremble as he clutches the edge of the table. Every head turns to him once more, then slowly towards the source of the sound. Out of the corner of his eye he watches as The Dark Lord rises from his chair. Time moves slowly, the whimper becomes louder, he is frozen in his seat.
"Such a shame." The Dark Lord tisks as he steps on every body piled in the floor to dig out the source of the sound. "I am sorry, Severus. Truly, I am. Every drop of magical blood spilled is such a waste, but you have defied me, Severus. Let this be a lesson to you all."
"Daddy!" Lorna cries as The Dark Lord lifts her from the pile of mangled bodies on the cold floor. Her face drenched in tears and dried blood; her blue eyes filled with terror.
"Daddy!" The Dark Lord mocks, several people chuckle awkwardly. "Avada Kedavra!"
Severus jerks upright, panting heavily. The whimper he had heard in his dream sounds once more in the darkness. He fumbles at his bedside table for his wand, flicks his wrist and blinks a few times as the candle roars to life.
Lorna trembles against the wall, wringing the bottom of her nightgown in her trembling hands. Her eyes dart back and forth as her chest heaves between sobs.
"What is wrong?" Severus asks as he throws the quilt back and swings his legs from the bed, the terror he had felt only moments ago drifts away as he makes his way to his very much alive daughter cowering in the corner.
"Mummy forgot me." She heaves between sobs as her nose runs down into her mouth to mingle with the tears streaming down her face.
"She is at work; you are to stay with me tonight." Severus crouches down to her level and reaches out timidly to rest a large hand on her small shoulder.
"I want my mummy." Lorna sobs harder and she wraps her arms around his neck and buries her face in his chest, soaking him with her tears and mucus.
Severus lifts her into his arms and places her on the edge of his bed. He had transfigured a small trundle bed out of the trunk at the foot of his own bed for her to sleep in that night, the blankets and pillow lies discarded in the floor, the sheets twisted and knotted in the center. He steps over them carefully and makes his way to the bathroom to wet a rag to mop Lorna's face.
Upon his return he finds her propped up against his pillow, beneath his quilt, looking incredibly proud of herself. Severus perches on the edge of the mattress and mops her face for her, she struggles and twists beneath his touch but ultimately allows him to clean her up. Her body still trembles slightly, but the tears have stopped flowing. He tosses the cloth into the bathroom floor, deciding to deal with it the following morning and stands once more to remake Lorna's make-shift bed.
"I need Simon." Lorna declares between sniffles. Severus raises his head to catch her wiping her running nose on his quilt.
"You can have your hippogriff when you come get back in bed."
"I sleep with you."
For a brief second, Severus contemplates denying her this request and forcing her into her own bed, but when he lifts his head he catches her lower lip tremble and sighs loudly before standing and retrieving her own pillow from the floor.
It had been hard enough to get the child to bed the first time. She wanted a story, not a book, but a made up story "like Nan tells" whatever that meant. For the life of him, he could not recall any children's stories or nursery rhymes which he could play off as made up. Instead, she allows him to read her two paragraphs of the first chapter of A Study in Scarlet. She asked more questions than he had read sentences before Severus finally slammed the book closed and told her instead a highly redacted retelling of the time he and Minerva had caught Potter and his friends in the girls lavatory with a knocked-out troll.
The child is incredibly inquisitive, to the point of irritation. She must know the spelling of every new word she hears; must be told a detailed description of anything she does not understand. It is not enough for her to watch a potion be brewed, or a dinner be made, she must join in with the preparations as well. Her ability to process the word no leaves something to be desired and must be rectified before she becomes much older. She is rebellious, brash, and assertive. Her inability to sit still for more than two minutes at a time was utterly exhausting. How her mother, or Molly Weasley for that matter could keep up with her was truly a mystery. Severus was much too old for it.
Severus places her pillow and stuffed hippogriff in bed and scoots her over to the opposite side of the bed so that he can join her. Before long, she dozes off, the ability to fall asleep almost instantly no doubt coming from her mother. Just as he begins to doze off himself, her small body seems to be everywhere all at once. Her hair in his mouth, a knee in his stomach, a fist digging into his chest.
As dawn begins to break, Severus has not fallen back to sleep. Lorna is stuck to him with sweat, her hair is somehow knotted around his wrist, and the hippogriff keeps being shoved into his face. He will have bruises littering his body as the day progresses due to her knees and elbows. Severus heaves himself from the bed and starts the kettle for tea, he turns back to look at Lorna. He grits his teeth and narrows his eyes at the child sleeping peacefully in his bed. She looks like Sirius fucking Black.
An unknown anger fills him as he catches sight of the girls mother walking past the window, he grips the edge of the wooden bar tightly before stalking to the door and swinging it open, startling the woman standing on the other side. Her eyes are bloodshot with dark circles beneath them, her hair is disheveled with curls falling from the loose bun she wears. If he were in a better mood, he would invite her to lie down in bed with Lorna as he made them all breakfast. Between the lack of sleep, the unyielding nightmares, the fact that Lorna has kicked him in the kidney no less than seven times in the course of a few hours, and the fact that he is just now seeing the similarities between his daughter and the bastard that was her grandfather, Severus is seething.
"How was she?" A faint smile spreads across her face, no doubt it would have been genuine had she not been far more exhausted than he currently was.
"I recommend you research better parenting methods before it is too late." Severus barks, he regrets it immediately as his wife's eyes narrow at him.
"Excuse me?"
"You seem to spend far less time with your child than necessary, leaving most of her care to Molly Weasley, whom I happen to know from experience possesses less than adequate parenting skills, as I have taught every one of her insolent children."
Behind him, Lorna rustles beneath the quilt. He does not have a chance to see if she were awake before her mother grips his sleeve and pulls him out of the shack and into the bright morning light. Severus glances down his nose at her, gauging her newfound fury.
"First of all, you will not insult me, try to pick a fight with me, or put me down in front of my child, I do not care whether she is awake or not. If you have a problem with me, if you have an issue, you will speak to me in private. Second, I have to work, you don't think that I would much rather be with my child? Finally, I am not your student, you are not my superior, you will not try to intimidate me for your own pleasure. You have no right to judge me when I'm doing the best that I can on my own!"
She shoves past him and barges into the shack, Lorna is sitting up in the bed blinking from the bright sun filtering in through the opened door, the hippogriff clutched to her chest. Her mother scoops her into her arms and holds her close to her chest as Lorna buries her face in her neck.
Severus watches as the two of them leave. Lorna peeks her eyes over her mother's shoulder and gives him a small wave with the free hand not dangling the hippogriff towards the ground.
—
Foolishly, Severus woke before sunrise the next three mornings awaiting the arrival of Lorna. The first day he had prepared her a breakfast of fruit, pancakes, and the blueberry mint tea that he detested, but she seemed to enjoy.
He sat in the kitchen well until the afternoon, staring out of the window. The fruit had long since browned, the tea had drowned flies. A pang hit his heart at the thought of never seeing either of them again before he becomes angry and slings her teacup against the wall, shattering it and soaking the transfigured trunk that still sat made up as a bed for her to nap on.
The forth morning, against his better judgment, Severus relents and Apparates to the small cottage that housed his daughter. It is Thursday, and he knows from the previous week that she is off work this day.
He makes his way across the small side garden and up the stoop, the door flies open before he can raise his fist to knock at the door. She must have seen him approach.
"Can I help you?" She bites before he can so much as open his mouth. She closes the door behind her and backs him down the stoop to stand in the grass.
"You did not bring Lorna. I became concerned." Severus clutches his hands behind his back and looks down his nose at her. Her eyes narrow at him, evidently she is still quite angry at him.
"I no longer required your assistance." She spits. She had never stood up to him to this extent before, ordinarily it would anger him, cause him to put her in her place. Now, however, he was far too terrified that she would keep Lorna from him.
"I would like to apologize. I enjoyed the time spent with Lorna; I would like to extend my services after the Weasley's return from their trip."
"It is not a service; you are her father. I would never have even been in this situation if you hadn't have left us!"
"I am not here to discuss that matter. I only came to offer my apologies on my outburst Sunday morning and extend my time. I did not intend to imply that you are not a good mother, I can clearly see that you are. Lorna is a not a bad child."
She chews on the inside of her lip for a moment, looking up at him with those eyes that so often brought him to his knees. Her hair is a mess of loose curls and knots, it takes everything in him to keep from reaching out and smoothing the hair from her face. She wraps the cotton robe tighter around her body to combat the early morning chill before sighing and turning the knob on the door.
"Come in. I'm making breakfast." Severus watches as she disappears into the house, the heat and smell of bacon frying seep out of the opened door as he follows her inside.
Out of the corner of his eye he catches sight of the cat silently hissing at him before slinking up the stairs. He sits at a round table in the kitchen and watches as she flips the bacon with one hand and removes the whistling kettle off of the stoves eye with the other. Next to her, dishes in the sink wash and rinse themselves.
"Coffee or tea?" She asks as she turns to face him.
"Tea." Severus runs his hands down his face in an attempt to calm him nerves. Something about being here in her house filled him with dread. It felt too safe, too warm, too much like home. It felt too good to be true, too much like it could open the door for something bad to happen.
"Lorna hasn't stopped talking about you. She really enjoyed spending time with you." She places a mug before him, it's steaming contents wafting through his nostrils. Peach and ginger. She has always been partial to fruit teas.
A pattering on the stairs catches both of their attention. They each turn to see Lorna on the bottom step. Her wavy hair a complete mess, the back of her pale purple nightgown is tucked into her knickers, her right sock is missing, the hippogriff drags the floor as she steps down from the final stair and takes two timid steps. The toes on her sockless foot curl as they hit the cold tile of the kitchen floor. She rubs her eye with her chubby fist, yawns deeply, then opens her eyes to see him sitting before her. She freezes a moment, smiles up at him, then launches herself into his arms.
"Daddy." She breathes against his neck as she wraps her arms around him.
Severus hugs her protectively and untucks her nightgown before allowing her to curl up on his lap while she hugs the hippogriff to her chest and yawns. Her head rests in the center of her chest, just as it had each night when she was a newborn and he read to her to put her to sleep.
He had never wanted to be a father, to have a child call daddy, had never wanted a child, or anyone else for that matter, to place all of their trust in him. For her though, he would do whatever it took to keep her blind to every one of his flaws. He will never give her a reason to fear him.