"You know we'll have to tell them," Petunia murmured for the millionth time. Severus gave a noncommittal grunt over his soup. They had intended to wait at least a week to announce their engagement, but it was day three, and already all the teachers knew.
Several of the male teachers led by Hagrid and Lupin had cornered Snape in a classroom that very same morning of their tryst, Hagrid growling, "Out with it…!" Until he furiously confirmed their suspicions. Now Severus was desperately trying to put off a "night of drinking and debauchery" they were planning for him to celebrate.
"You know we'll have to have an actual wedding," she said moments later. Severus sighed dramatically. She looked at him then, and he quickly straightened.
"It's not that I don't want to…"
"I know, I know….my famous family," she agreed. She did understand how he felt. Honestly, after having been married once already, while a wedding would be nice, she had been surprised to find that she didn't feel as excited about it as she might have once thought she would. Part of it was that her family and social dynamics had shifted so much that it was awkward, and she did not look forward to feeling so vulnerable in front of the mix of people in her former life and her current one. What if she cried? She was mortified just thinking about it.
She looked around the dining hall at the teachers, who were eating their dinner and minding their own business, though she knew they could probably hear everything, and gazed around the hall then at the students. Her gaze fell upon the knot of the returned seventh years who had taken up an entire end of one of the "Gryffindor" tables, and seemed uncharacteristically quiet. Only her nephew was missing. She wondered if he would be visiting the school at all.
"You know what," she said thoughtfully. "It could just be a small affair."
Severus looked up hopefully, and she gave him a wry, sympathetic smile.
"Would…would you be pleased with that? Honestly, we'll do whatever makes you happy -" he prodded, his voice careful.
"No, no….I mean it. I've been thinking about it without really thinking about it. I don't really want a big show any more than you. We'd keep it between us, a few family or close to family, a few friends -" she nodded in the direction of the other teachers "- and that's it. I think it would be lovely," she said, deciding it at the same time as she spoke it. She knew Severus was doing his version of beaming at her, but she remained distracted by the sight of Hermione getting up to go talk to a girl at another table, and Ron who was returning, presumably from the bathroom.
They looked a bit solemn, she thought. I wonder what's going on…and it occurred to her that Hermione was probably already halfway to figuring out what had happened with the egregore and probably knew more about it at this point than she and Severus did.
"I might literally have to go to her and ask-" she started to say, and at the same time, Severus said, "All I know is I WANT TO MARRY YOU, AND SOON, IN WHATEVER FASHION…"
She stared at him, and so did everyone else, as suddenly his voice boomed across the room. His face was frozen in the most comical expression of horror, and she would have laughed if she were not herself horrified. She was afraid to look around, and knew it was too much to hope that the stunned silence would end with everything going back to normal.
As if on a beat, the dining room erupted into the most raucous cheers, hoots, howls, gasps, screams, laughter, and applause that it reminded her of the one time she'd ever been to a football game and swore never again. The students and teachers were standing and clapping, and for ten minutes she and Severus could say nothing else for the din. Then someone lit off a firecracker, and several from random places at the different House tables followed, which must have been a signal, for suddenly the ghosts appeared around the room also applauding, and about a 100 house elves apparated with about 100 loud "crack's!" as they jumped on tables and benches, adding their mirth.
She looked at Severus again, and knew they both aware there was nothing they could do. She saw this realization sinking in, and, seeming to gather himself, Severus stood up.
Instantly he was met with cries of "Speech! Speech! Speech!" but he stood stiffly, hands folded in front of him, and waited until there was enough quiet for him to even be heard.
"It will be a SMALL AND PRIVATE AFFAIR," he said, his voice still projecting, and this was simply met with more applause, only now with some very loud "boos" added. Having made his "speech," Petunia thought he looked almost as relieved as he did resigned. Then a dark look crossed over his face and she held her breath. The dining hall got even quieter, and suddenly it seemed that the house elves and ghosts had left almost as quickly as they'd come.
"...and," Severus continued in a low voice that rumbled threateningly, "...whoever is behind this entirely unwelcome incident, there is now a 250 point bounty on your head for the house that delivers you to me first," he finished, and Petunia followed his stare to Ron Weasley, whose face was so pale he looked sick. She almost felt sorry for him and tried not to laugh.
The room was now filled with the sounds of "oooooooooooooooooooo!" from all the students, and Severus sat back down, giving her a satisfied look, having successfully redirected most of the room's attention. The other teachers also sat back down, laughing, and after a few congratulations, respectfully went back to finishing their dinner.
"Well," she said, smiling - it was hard not too, even though she was embarrassed - "at least that's over with." Severus said nothing and went back to eating, but she knew he was also glad at least in part to not having the announcement hang over them anymore. "Now we've just got to tell Harry," she said, her stomach dropping suddenly. For the second time Severus gave her a look full of dread. He groaned.
"He's going to find out before we leave this hall," he started.
"I know. But we've got to tell him anyway. You've got to tell him," she said firmly. He looked at her angrily for a moment, as if he were about to argue, then seemed to give up.
"As you wish," he growled finally, and she nodded. That's done, then. But she was nervous, and the feeling in the pit of her stomach would not go away even as they left the dining hall, lingering enough for it to empty out first, and everyone headed to their houses for the night.
—-
Petunia promised she would see him at his home later, and they gave each other a rather chaste good night kiss before Severus went to his study and took the Floo to his own living room in Spinner's End. Lost in thought, he went through the motions of taking off his cloak and the buttoned high collar coat he wore every day of his life and hanging them up on the hooks in the hallway.
He made himself some tea, frowning, then traveled solemnly upstairs. Across from his bedroom was his upstairs study - the downstairs one sharing space with the voluminous library in his parlor - and he sat at his spotless desk, pulling out parchment and quill. Absent-mindedly he flicked his finger, and the dripping candles on his desk ignited into twin flames, casting a warm, flickering light upon him and the parchment at which he was scowling. Though Petunia had gotten him a desk lamp, one that had a "battery" since outlets in his home were few and far between, old habits died hard, and he preferred to write by candlelight at night. Somehow, the flickering light entranced him, calming his thoughts.
Slowly, he set pen to paper and began to scratch out a letter.
It was 3 in the morning when he finally folded it up and tied it to the foot of his large, black speckled owl. It looked at him under heavy, disapproving brows very much like his own, before it turned its back to him, waddled to the window, and took off, presumably looking for Harry Potter. Perhaps he was at the Weasleys, perhaps not…the owl would figure it out. Despite its sullen temperament, like Snape himself, it was quite the perfectionist, which was why he had chosen it.
When Severus went to bed, he found Petunia already asleep, and realized with a shock he had not heard her arrive, so engrossed had he been in his writing. She lay on her back with her arm and head to one side and her mouth slightly open, from which a tiny snoring sound could be heard now and then.
Severus chuckled, caressing her hair softly so as not to wake her, and tracing the contours of her throat. Her nipple peeked out just underneath her silky night dress, and he moved it down just enough to kiss it before crawling in next to her. She gave a soft moan and he stiffened with excitement, but he would try not to wake her. After some time with his arm draped over her waist, he too fell asleep.
When he got up later that morning, he put on his robe and came downstairs to the smell of fresh tea and cream, and knew that Petunia had already made breakfast. His heart warmed, and he thought that this feeling must be what it was like for people who had homes filled with love, either as children or as adults with a loving partner. His eyes pricked and he swished that thought away quickly before entering the kitchen.
Petunia was sitting at the table, reading a letter she had obviously just opened, and clearly had been perusing for some time. On the stove, a wooden spoon lazily whirled as it stirred a porridge that threatened to bubble up over the side. Severus rushed over to the stove and took the pot off the heat. Petunia started, and instantly looked guilty.
Wiping his hands, he turned to her and grimaced - the closest thing he could muster to a polite smile.
"Well, I suppose you will be proud of me," he grumbled.
"Oh?" Petunia raised an eyebrow.
"I've invited your-Harry to have brunch with us tomorrow."
"Severus!" Petunia exclaimed. A broad smile spread across her face as she stood up and clasped her hands. Like a little girl, he thought affectionately. He actually had to make an effort to hold back an identical grin, feeling like the gesture had been worth it for the way she looked at him now.
"I expect it would be a good way to talk about the engagement. By now he's probably heard, but - " he shrugged. "It's a gesture."
Unexpectedly, her eyes suddenly began to look red around the edges and he realized she was tearing up. He went over to her and embraced her, and felt hot tears on his shoulder.
"I didn't realize it meant so much to you," he said after a moment. He felt her nod as silent, muffled sobs shuddered through her. She pulled back to look at him.
"I didn't either, honestly. I don't even know where that came from, really…" she was flushed and clearly embarrassed. "It's just - there's just - so much - "
"Yes," was all he said, and he held her again until the moment passed. Then quickly she pulled away and wiped her eyes, suddenly all business.
"Well, how about today, then? Any plans?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact." He frowned thoughtfully. "I consulted with Lupin, as you suggested, and it turns out that he has consulted with Hermione and they believe they have something important to discuss with regard to your developing magical abilities. He suggested we gather this evening. Are you up for it?"
"Are you joking? I can hardly wait. I trust you won't think too poorly of me if I say it is the only thing that can possibly take my mind off our engagement," she smiled wryly, and he nodded in agreement. "That's what I expected. We're actually going to meet at - remember Harry's godfather, Sirius?"
"Of course," Petunia said, her expression clouding ever so slightly.
"You know that he left Harry some property. We used it - that is, with Headmaster Dumbledore, when - during the war with…" he trailed off, surprised at how difficult it was for him to bring up these memories. He shook his head vigorously, as if to chase those thoughts away. "In any case, we thought we'd meet there tonight."
Petunia nodded, understanding. "I'll get to see it for the first time, then," she mused. He winced. "Yes. Well - there are a few things I ought to prepare you for," he began, wondering if the false ghost of Dumbledore still haunted the hallway of 12 Grimmauld Place."
It was to be a small gathering, Petunia understood, and she was glad of it - only those most directly involved in assisting with the research, which included, she discovered, Professor Binns, who had apparently been impossible to disinterest. He had pursued Lupin and Slughorn quite aggressively, and when they and Severus finally told him to sod off, he had taken to pestering Hermione. Apparently he had made himself useful.
12 Grimmauld Place was every bit as strange and fantastic as she could have hoped, and far more than she could have imagined. The stretching of the building between two others, as if a dimension in space were unfolding, was as unsettling as fascinating. While she could not explain why, she had an ominous feeling about entering the building, the evening shadows seeming to fall menacingly over it. The hallway had been dark and looked like something out of a horror movie - and she was not overly fond of those - but when the others explained to her Sirius Black's family history, the lingering air of unpleasantness made far more sense.
They gathered in the parlor, Hermoine and Ron, Lupin, Slughorn, and Petunia. Hermione had a fat notebook or tome of some kind tucked under her arm, and after everyone settled into their armchairs and the squeaking stopped, she quickly took to the floor, cleared her throat, and began a 40 minute lecture. When she was finished, nearly all the wizards were leaning forward with their mouths partly open, as if they were watching a movie and had just reached the cliffhanger. Petunia alone sat back comfortably in her chair, a forgotten mug of tea in her lap, and looked around the room, not fully understanding their reaction.
Much of Hermione's presentation had gone over her head, with many names and terms mentioned that had no meaning to her whatsoever. But one thing stood out, something mentioned again and again; something about a "scion" of Slytherin. She knew vaguely what the word scion meant, but it was a term that conjured up fantasy novels and television as far as she was concerned, not the kind of word that one heard in everyday conversation. Apparently this was what they had decided she was.
"Sorry," she started, in the midst of an awed pause, "but exactly what do you mean by 'scion?' Just…you know, to clarify," she added, feeling a little stupid. But Hermione could not wait to explain further. She had grown more and more animated and heated during the talk, especially as they began to pepper her with questions and exclamations of disbelief.
"A scion," Hermione said in a teacher's voice, "Is like an heir. It is literally a descendant, the most important one. Something along those lines. In any case, and we have Professor Binns to thank for this, " she added pointedly, "there is a bit of rare, ancient magic that fell out of fashion or got forgotten somewhere around the middle ages. It was - imagine, say, if one had "magical" DNA, as in, in addition to their biological relations, a person could be a relative, even a descendant of someone, completely by magical connection."
Now they were all staring at Petunia, looking thoughtful and incredulous, as if she somehow were supposed to continue the explanation.
"So…what, exactly? You're saying I'm related, somehow, by magic - "
"Yes!" Hermione exclaimed, so vehemently that Petunia and a few of the others started. "You are, it seems, the inheritor of - of the legacy, of Sytherin. That is why the egregore was drawn to you, and why you were able to command it."
"It wasn't exactly that cooperative," Petunia muttered, remembering. But Hermione continued as if she had not heard this.
"You see, it was a magical line, something - in theory, that is - was established to ensure that House Slytherin, Salazar's legacy, would always survive, no matter how it fared generation after generation. Some magic would ensure that its spirit, the purest essence of the house, would always pass on and be revived. And the reason this is so important," she concluded, seeming to be most excited about this last bit, " is that it means that even if Slytherin house were to fall from grace, or care, or neglect, as one might argue it has in recent - " here Severus and Slughorn both cleared their throats.
Hermione went on quickly. "Anyway, in theory, a bit of Salazar, of the most pure aspect of himself, and of his intention when he created the house, became a part of the house. This manifested in two ways: one was the egregore, which was mostly by accident and is fairly to be expected in any place that has a strong, powerful purpose where many people are concentrating on the same thing. The second, however, the intentional connection, was - an heir. This is in fact what Voldemort believed himself to be, but he didn't fully understand the truth of this. He was in fact connected to Slytherin, maybe even potentially could have been the scion, but he did not understand its spirit well enough. His understanding was clouded by his trauma, ambition, and hatred. Therefore when he died, the spirit of House Slytherin, the scion, either sought out or awakened its new heir, which is - you, Mrs. Dursley," she finished, elated and full of awe.
Petunia said nothing for a moment. Part of her was simply numb; the whole thing was so surreal it made about as much sense as a dream upon waking. But another part of her, completely of its own accord, was making connections and clicking realization into place. At the deepest level, it made sense. Of course, this part of her seemed to say, as if not only was this revelation not surprising, but she had known it all along. She leaned into that feeling, trying to see the connections with her conscious self.
"So you're saying - I am an heir of Salazar Slytherin, the founder of Slytherin house?"
"I'm saying," Hermione corrected, "that you are an heir, the heir, of the spirit of Slytherin House. Whatever Slytherin is on - on another plane, say, perhaps the spiritual - " she trailed off here, looking uncertain and a little mortified.
"Oh come now," said Professor Slughorn. "This is profound enough without having to bring in the 'spiritual.'" He said the word as if it were understood to be a popular joke. "There is no need to bring in theology just because there is magic here that we don't understand."
"I disagree," Lupin immediately responded. "Talk about the spiritual was commonplace in earlier times, especially during Salazar's time. There was a lot more respect for the idea of a spiritual world back then."
"Oh yes, it was quite influential at the time," Slughorn answered not quite rudely, but sarcastically. "So much so that the Muggles of the time suppressed all science and knowledge and couldn't stop ducking each other in lakes trying to prove someone was a witch," he finished, scornful.
Petunia thought there was some truth to that, but at the same time, "spirit" and "magic" might as well have been nearly the same concept, as far as she as a "muggle" was concerned. She had had little experience with either - until now.
"I'm not saying there's anything religious about it, per sae," Lupin hastened to explain, seeming irritated. "Just - that there is a natural aspect to magic that we've sort of…lost track of, in the Wizarding World. We've gotten so use to experimentation and innovation, to trying to control magic, we've perhaps lost a sense of its intuitiveness. Look it's the same with how we've related to magical races, like the elves. You see? All around us are creatures who perform magic without even thinking about it, navigating both the wizarding world and the muggle - pardon me," he said this nodding briefly at Petunia. " All around us are naturally magical beings, and yet we wizards and witches, we humans, make the same mistake we always have, and ignore the knowledge they might have to share with us, if we could be worthy of it."
Slughorn scoffed, but he did not sound as scornful anymore, and slipped into a thoughtful silence.
"I have to say," said Severus' low, deliberate voice, and she turned to him in surprise. "I have been forced to consider this theory from the very beginning, and so much evidence seems to point to this very idea. For one thing, Petunia has had an uncanny connection with the fae," he admitted, and looked at her thoughtfully. She felt herself flushing, but didn't exactly know why. Never had she had so much attention focused on her in her life than in this year of discovery, right when she should have been having a midlife crisis.
"It's not only that," she said softly but firmly, as she held Severus' gaze, following his lead. "I have other reasons to suspect that there is - more present than simply the will of witches and wizards. I don't know exactly how to explain it. But there have been moments of - almost like, visions," she said carefully.
And she had everyone's attention here. Now she was not sure that she wanted to go into talking about goddesses and such; somehow it seemed like it would be ruined if shared with others. It felt private, meant for her alone. Plus, she knew she would not be able to convey what she had experienced in a way they would be able to understand - that her experience had been a spiritual one all along, but not "religious," not something that completely changed the way she understood the world to work. Rather, this was something that everything else seemed to fit into, a truth that contained all truth, including magic.
She realized they were still staring at her, and decided to try to redirect the conversation away from what could not properly be expressed.
"Let's just say, I've become more aware of a world existing alongside us, and I don't mean just magical beings, that I am now able to see, like gnomes and such - in my muggle life, my awareness, I would not have been able to recognize them, but they were always there all along. But even beyond them there are - there's something like, an awareness to it all."
"To what all?" asked Lupin.
"Creation," she said simply, deciding it needed no explanation. "To all that is, all the time, and we are part of it. Magic, that is. All of us. Muggles, too. Perhaps - perhaps there is nothing that is truly mundane," she finished.
Suddenly someone squealed and she jumped; it was Hermione, who apparently had been excited growing to bursting throughout this entire speculation.
More silence.
"Well," said Severus finally, "I must confess I don't so much like the idea of talking about 'wills' and whatnot, things that perhaps don't belong in conversations about either magic or science - after all they're really the same thing. But - I do think we've been long overdue in acknowledging that we have not been harnessing…participating in the magical world as fully as we have thought. This is not an entirely new conversation. But this business with Petunia" - here he waved in her direction - "is perhaps going to force it to be taken more seriously. Where it will lead I don't know."
"Some people really won't like it," Lupin added after a moment.
"And some," Petunia answered, "perhaps will like it very much."
And that was the end of that. They left Grimmauld place after much discussion, no closer to any real explanation than when they'd arrived.
But I understand it now, Petunia thought, as she apparated back home with Severus. I understand it, because it's just what I am. Not what I can do…simply what I am as a being. And she thought about Salazar Slytherin, and the middle ages, and houses and spirits and egregores, and heirs, and goddesses and gods and unicorns and world trees and all of it, until she dropped off to sleep in Severus's warm arms, lulled by the tangible "realness" of his steady breathing.
