These characters and this entire Potterverse are the property of the incomparable JKR.
Chapter 25
Thou are not lovelier than lilacs, “ no,
Nor honeysuckle; thou are not more fair
Than small white single poppies, “ I can bear
Thy beauty; though I bend before thee, though
From left to right, not knowing where to go,
I turn my troubled eyes, nor here nor there
Find any refuge from thee, yet I swear
So has it been with mist, “ with moonlight so.
Like him who day by day unto his draught
Of delicate poison adds him one drop more
Till he may drink unharmed the death of ten,
Even so, inured to beauty, who have quaffed
Each hour more deeply than the hour before,
I drink “ and live “ what has destroyed some men.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Sophronia was sitting quietly in the parlour at the top of the house, embroidering the edge of a pillowcase and relishing being back at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. She knew that with the changes coming in the lives of her family “ marriages for Severus, Skye, and even for herself “ that they were about to go through a major upheaval. The time she had spent living at headquarters had been happy for her; she had come to make a very dear friend in Minerva McGonagall, she had come to care deeply for the young women in her charge, and she had found her Siri again “ how could she fail to be happy under such circumstances? In the midst of the inevitable adjustments, it was good to have some things that would be unchanging. This inconvenient old house felt like a friend to her and she was content to be there.
She became aware of Severus’ presence in the room only after he had settled across from her in a squashy old armchair.
“Good morning, Severus,” she said with a gentle smile. “We missed you at breakfast.”
Snape studied her face thoughtfully, but she had the impression he was seeing something “ or someone “ else. “I had an errand to run early this morning,” he said.
Sophronia continued to ply her needle, but she surreptitiously checked him over, noting that he was looking better with each passing day. She knew that he continued to perform the exercises for his hand and arm each morning, and he no longer wore the sling about his neck in which to rest the arm; his colour was also improving. Overall, she privately thought he looked healthier than he had before his injury.
“Sophronia, I have a favour to ask of you,” Snape said diffidently, removing a slim black velvet box from the inner pocket of his coat.
“Of course, Severus,” she replied, putting her sewing aside and giving him her full attention.
“I feel that we owe Miss Granger such a debt of gratitude for all that she has done for us since Stormy became ill “ I have procured a gift for her from the family, which I would like for you to present to her.”
Snape passed the box to Sophronia, who promptly opened it and surveyed the item displayed against the royal blue satin within. A bracelet, strung with large, lustrous, silvery pearls and secured with a gently ridged platinum clasp met her gaze.
Sophronia, who had in her possession the pearls that she had inherited from her mother, gasped. “Good heavens, Severus, these are South Sea pearls! They are terribly expensive!”
Snape regarded her blandly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sophronia. It’s just a trinket.”
“Severus, anyone who knows anything about jewellery will know that pearls of this size are not a trinket!”
“Well, I certainly was not aware of that fact, Sophronia, and I do not see any reason for you to be trumpeting it all over the house, do you?”
Sophronia closed the case and looked Snape in the face, troubled. “No, I don’t have to tell her “ but I think she should know how costly it is “ she would be appalled if she were careless with it, and later found out how expensive it had been.”
“Perhaps they are not authentic pearls,” he suggested.
Sophronia gave him a hesitant look. “I may not be very knowledgeable, Severus, but I know genuine South Sea pearls when I see them.”
Snape looked slightly exasperated. “Then perhaps you could delay telling her how costly they are until a later time? Surely, it is uncouth to give a gift and then announce how much gold one spent to purchase it? I would not wish for her to feel self-conscious or uncomfortable with our gift to her.”
Sophronia nodded. “If you wish, Severus. I will be happy to present her with the gift.”
“I will let you know when to give it to her. I doubt if she will be so ill-mannered as to ask you, but do tell her you chose it for her, if she should inquire.”
“All right,” she agreed. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Snape stood, shaking his head. “No, that will be all. I will be out for the rest of the day; I am escorting Fleur to the Estuary to see the bedroom which will be hers, so that she may begin to make decorating plans.”
“Very well, Severus. Have a nice time.”
He smiled grimly. “I firmly intend to do so.”
Snape called for Fleur at her family’s townhouse, and they Disapparated from there to the Estuary. Fleur continued in her sunny, happy spirits, her manner towards Snape a judicious mix of affection and reserve.
They were admitted to the house by deeply bowing house-elves, and Snape led Fleur up to the floor where his bedroom was located. They walked along the corridor to his door, which he opened, permitting her to enter.
Fleur glanced over her shoulder at him as he followed her into his bedroom, closing the door behind them. He detected a hopeful gleam and saw her cast a speculative glance at his bed before turning a look of calculated confusion to him.
“But I thought we were to have separate rooms, darling,” she purred, moving against him with a suggestive wriggle before twining her arms about his waist.
Snape disengaged her arms and maintained his hold on one of her wrists as he pulled her along to a door newly installed in his bedroom wall. “Yes, our rooms will be separate, but not distant,” he answered, opening the new door. “Your room will be through here.”
Fleur stepped eagerly through the open door to look quickly about the chamber. The immediate impression was one of light; the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the far wall were uncovered, permitting a spill of light into the airy room. The walls were painted a rich cream and were unadorned. The furniture was of blond oak, elegant and dainty.
“As you can see, the colours for the carpeting, draperies, and bedclothes have been left for you to determine, as well as any paintings you wish to have hung here.” Snape leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, watching his fiancée’s reaction to the room.
“It is perfect, Severus,” she said, turning to him with a genuinely delighted expression.
He moved the connecting door further open, so that it came to rest against the wall of her room. “I am pleased that you are pleased.”
She came towards him again, smiling, until her attention was distracted by the door. She looked at the old-fashioned doorknob on Snape’s side of the door, then pulled the door away from the wall to see there was no doorknob on her side of the door.
“Why do I have no doorknob on my side?” she asked, puzzled.
Snape’s eyebrows rose steeply. “Why would you need one?”
“So that I may enter your room, of course!”
“Oh, my,” Snape said, his voice full of amusement. “How very modern of you, my dear.”
Fleur’s chin came up; she did not care to be an object of amusement. “I do not understand you,” she said stiffly.
“Must I spell it out for you?” he said, his voice a silky purr. “Is it really the custom in France for witches to enter their husbands’ bedrooms unbidden?”
Seriously discomposed, Fleur turned away from him, struggling to match his tone.
“Is it the custom in England for wizards to enter their wives’ bedrooms unbidden?” she countered.
He was behind her in a whisper of movement so swift she was uncertain how he had accomplished it. “It is, indeed,” he breathed into her ear. “I suggest you begin to acquaint yourself with English customs.”
Before she could properly react, he was moving away from her. “I will leave the door open, for now, so that you may have access to the Floo, in case you should need it. Nanny is available to assist you; simply call for her.”
Fleur watched her hateful fiancé stride away, her fists clenched in impotent fury, her former joy in the room forgotten.
The next morning, Tonks entered the ladies’ sitting room at the top of the house after breakfast and found Sophronia and Minerva there, engaged in needlework and desultory conversation. They looked up when the younger witch entered, both of them immediately put on their guard by the look of mischief on the Auror’s heart-shaped face.
“Well?” Minerva inquired as Tonks dropped into an armchair.
“Bill is here,” Tonks imparted.
Sophronia glanced at her sharply. “Did he ask for Skye?”
“No, he confirmed with Dobby that Severus is in the library and went there directly.”
Minerva looked over to Sophronia, concern etched in her lined face. “Is William here for a purpose?”
Sophronia kept her eyes on her sewing. “I believe so.”
“Is it safe?”
Tonks could not avoid a chuckle of amusement at Minerva’s slightly panicked tone; Sophronia smiled, her eyes never leaving the embroidery hoop. “I believe the serpent has been de-fanged,” she murmured.
Snape sat in the library in Grimmauld Place, enjoying another cup of coffee as he perused the morning paper. The rapping on the library door elicited only a lazy, “Come,” from him.
Bill Weasley entered the room and closed the door behind him, moving with a deliberate assurance which suited him well.
“Good morning, Professor,” Bill said. “May I sit?”
Snape made an expansive gesture and leaned back in his chair, his hands settling quietly on the blotter before him. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
“I was expecting you sooner,” Snape said calmly.
“Were you?” Bill responded evenly. “I felt that it would be improper to approach you when you were unwell.”
Snape nodded. “Your restraint is admirable, as it was when you were acting as chaperone, here.” A look of sardonic amusement touched his eyes. “I understand from Sophronia that Skye was quite beside herself with vexation that you maintained your distance.”
A ghost of a smile crossed Bill’s lips. “There was some displeasure expressed, as I recall,” he allowed. After a moment, he leant forward. “I daresay you know why I’ve come.”
“Yes, I know.”
“I realise that I will never be able to offer her a home equal to the Estuary,” Bill began.
Snape raised one hand to silence him. “Mr. Weasley, do you love Skye?”
“Yes.”
“Will you give your life to make her happy, always honour and protect her?”
“Yes, Professor “ with all my heart.”
Snape stood, walking around the desk to offer his hand to the astonished Bill Weasley. “I understand that you have already discussed this with Sophronia, and she has relayed her wishes to me. I accept your suit on behalf of my sister, Mr. Weasley. Welcome to the family.”
Bill shot to his feet, readily accepting Snape’s handshake. “I expected this to take longer,” he admitted, with some show of relief.
Snape looked the younger man directly in the eyes. “You risked your life to protect her and her entire family, Bill. You earned the right to marry her, if it is what you both want “ and Skye has made her wishes perfectly clear to me, I assure you.”
“Thank you, Severus,” Bill said, slightly stressing the use of Snape’s given name. “I’ll have the solicitor send the contract to you.”
The door burst open and Skye rushed into the room, bypassing her new fiancé to deliver a tearful hug to her brother. Snape looked over Skye’s head to see Shadow standing in the corridor, a wistful smile on her face.
“Is there no privacy to be had in this house?” Snape demanded, his fierce tone belied by his half-smile.
Shadow hastily stuffed the familiar-looking flesh-coloured string she was holding into her pocket. Giving Skye an awkward pat upon her back, Snape said, “Oh, God, I’m going to be related to Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes.”
He was still hearing Skye’s joyful laugh in his mind long after the door closed again, returning his privacy to him.
Sophronia’s anxious ears heard the approaching footsteps long before Skye entered the sitting room, her fingers twined with Bill’s on one side and with Shadow’s on the other. She stood as they entered the room, as did Minerva.
“Mum, he said ‘yes!’” Skye said breathlessly, releasing her companions and tumbling into her mother’s arms.
Bill accepted Professor McGonagall’s congratulations with a hug and a kiss which startled an exclamation from her. “This is precisely how you behaved at the Malfoy Ball when I told you that Skye was not betrothed to anyone,” she said, slapping him on the arm and patting her hair to make sure it had not been disarranged by his enthusiasm.
Bill stepped over to Skye, who was standing in the circle of her mother’s arm, and he took her hands, looking down into her eyes. “I was strolling down Diagon Alley, feeling sorry for myself, when I glanced into the windows of Madam Malkin’s and saw an angel in a wedding wreath. I knew that I had to have that girl for my own “ and now I do.”
The older women looked on at the lovers with indulgence; Sophronia had recourse to her handkerchief. Only Shadow, seated to one side and completely forgotten, watched their interplay with such ineffable sadness.
Fleur stepped through the Floo into Snape’s bedroom, glancing about for the ubiquitous Nanny before creeping into his study. She would not need to investigate on her own, if her fiancé would be more forthcoming with her.
Murmuring a spell to light the candles in the study, she seated herself at the desk and began to rifle through the drawers, looking for clues as to his activities. She seldom saw him these days; between the incessant fittings for herself and her bridesmaids, her meetings with the decorator, the last-minute details of their wedding, and the whirl of London social life, there was scarcely any time to spend with her soon-to-be husband… not that she was sure he wanted to spend time with her, even if he could.
Abandoning the drawers, Fleur became aware of a slip of paper sticking out from beneath the blotter. Glancing again to make sure that she was unobserved, she pulled the slip of paper out, smoothing the surface tentatively. Engraved at the top of the bill of sale were the words: Grundell and Ridges, Jewellers to the Discriminating Wizard Since 1217. Diagon Alley, Paris, Moscow, Salem. Beneath the heading the purchases were itemised.
(1) South Sea Pearl bracelet with platinum clasp, 420 Galleons
(2) Freshwater Pearl bracelet with gold clasp, 10 Galleons
Fleur let the bill of sale flutter back to the desktop and she sat back, filled with self-satisfaction. South Sea pearls! Fleur was not a great fan of pearls, feeling that they were rather old-fashioned; she found that she preferred gemstones, such as the emeralds which Snape had given her as an engagement gift. However, she was very much the daughter of Hélène Delacour and had been educated from a young age regarding the grades of all manner of jewellery, so that she would be able to distinguish the superior from the merely excellent. Undoubtedly, the lavish bauble was a gift for her. Snape might be a rather cold man, physically speaking, but he obviously adored her “ a man did not buy such expensive gifts where he did not love! And the other item “ the freshwater pearl bracelet “ was undoubtedly for one of his sisters. Perhaps for Shadow; such an ornament would be appropriate for a girl in her first season. Or, it could even be for Stormy! A grown-up gift to encourage the child to move willingly away from her toys to the trappings of girlhood.
Lost in her happy daydreams, the Frenchwoman was unaware of the watchful eyes of the house-elf peering at her from around the bookcase on the far wall.
As they sat alone in the first floor sitting room that evening, Luna observed the desolation in Draco’s eyes and took him in her arms, pressing his face against her breasts and lovingly stroking his hair. She began gently to rock her torso, as if she were quieting a crying baby, crooning to him in wordless melody.
Surrendering himself to the irresistible comfort he found within her, Draco clung, raising his face at last to murmur to her, “I don’t want to wait any more, Luna. I need you now.”
Luna’s brow furrowed as she tilted her head to look down into his face. “Professor McGonagall will know, Draco. We don’t dare “ not here.” She thought for a moment, her fingers drawing through the hair at his nape repeatedly in a soothing gesture. “We could go to the Manor, I suppose,” she added.
Draco straightened from her embrace, pulling her instead against his chest and pressing an urgent, burning kiss to her lips. When she was trembling against him, he moved his lips to her ear. “I love you so much, Luna “ and I don’t want to wait. I want to be married, now. Tell me you want it, too.”
Luna pulled back from him, looking seriously into his grey eyes. “We have to go tell Daddy what we’re going to do,” she said, standing and holding her hand out to him.
“You mean ask him,” Draco corrected, standing as well.
“No. I mean tell him. If we marry tomorrow, will that be soon enough?”
The look of adoration in his eyes nearly robbed her of breath. “It will have to do,” he said huskily, clasping her to him in a desperate embrace.
Hermione knocked on Sophronia’s bedroom door the next morning and waited for the invitation before entering.
“Good morning, Hermione,” Sophronia said warmly, rising from her place at her writing desk to embrace the girl. “Please, sit with me.”
Hermione took the chair to one side of the desk. “You asked for a favour.”
Sophronia retrieved a piece of parchment, tinted a delicate shade of blue, and placed it in Hermione’s hand. “I have some shopping that needs to be done for wedding gifts, but with Skye’s engagement, I suddenly have many other appointments to keep, as well. I was wondering if you could go to these shops and procure these items. They are just gifts for Neville and Pansy, Draco and Luna, and a few things for Skye and Bill. I hate to ask you, but it would be such a help to me, if you would not object, Hermione.”
Hermione read through the list. “This will not be difficult at all, Sophronia; I’ll be more than happy to help. Is this all?”
Sophronia nodded and watched the girl go, wondering why Severus continued to give her things, such as gifts and errands, to pass on to Hermione.
Dobby and Winky had been given instructions from Professor Snape to keep him constantly informed of the comings and goings of Miss Hermione. They were not allowed to tell anyone that they were reporting her movements to him. But the oddest thing of all was that every time they told him she was leaving the house, he left, as well.
It was a rather solemn group who gathered at the Ministry just after noon to witness the binding of Draco Malfoy and Luna Lovegood. Luna’s father seemed to be unable to stop the tears from tracking down his cheeks; he appeared quite grateful for the kindness shown to him by Harry Potter and Pansy Parkinson, who teamed up to keep him supplied with fresh handkerchiefs. Professor Snape lent dignity to the proceedings, his silent figure in his black clothing striking a fitting contrast to the bride and groom, both of whom were dressed in the traditional white garb of a binding. Luna looked like a wood-elf with the flowery wreath in her hair, whilst Draco resembled nothing so much as a fairytale prince; the two had eyes for no one else. Neville Longbottom stood with Draco and Ginevra Weasley stood with Luna as they spoke their vows. Afterwards, Professor Snape treated them all to a champagne lunch at a nearby hotel before the happy couple Disapparated away to Malfoy Manor. Though Harry and Neville agreed that they would not care to have Snape as the benefactor of their nuptials, Draco was obviously grateful for the professor’s presence. There was simply no accounting for tastes.
Snape settled in his favourite armchair in the green parlour at his club, a glass of burgundy on the table before him and the latest edition of Potioneer Quarterly open across his lap. Upon his return to Grimmauld Place, the house-elves had informed him that Miss Hermione was running errands for the mistress, so he promptly deserted the house in favour of the Cave. The house-elves at the club welcomed him, assuring him that his now standing orders would be enforced: if anyone were to Floo for him or to come to the club inquiring for him, they were to be told he was not there.
Thus far, his plans were going well. Nanny reported that Fleur had found the receipts for the jewellery. He simply had to keep the pressure on, and continue with the periodic revelations, deceptions, and belittlements. His strategy was sound, based entirely upon the psychology of his subject.
How much could she take? And how long would it take? His mind was constantly reviewing his plot, wondering if there was something more he could do, or, worse, something he had missed that would prevent the plan from succeeding. Time was ticking on and with each passing hour, his unease grew, knowing that subtlety is best, but that it does not perform on a schedule.
Gazing out the window to Diagon Alley, he allowed himself a moment to grieve the presence of his acerbic friend, whose commentary on life had been a source of perpetual amusement to him these past twenty years. The absence of Lucius in his life highlighted the need for a companion to whom he could speak of all manner of things “ an intelligent friend.
Hermione Granger emerged from a shop beneath Snape’s window perch, her arms burdened with Sophronia’s purchases, entirely unaware of his scrutiny.
The excitement at the breakfast table the next morning amongst the young women was palpable. Skye had her appointment at Madam Malkin’s shop that morning, and all of her friends were going with her to help her choose her wedding finery. Though the wedding was planned for December, it was important to begin to order things early; all of the shopkeepers providing the wizarding community with the minutiae of binding ceremonies were up to their eyeballs in custom.
Snape sat in his habitual morning silence, shielded from the chattering females by his newspaper and soothing his nerves with strong coffee. At the opposite end of the table, Sirius Black sat with an amused smile on his lips.
Sophronia watched Sirius with a slightly guilty mien; he had not been blessed with much of her attention since they had returned to Grimmauld Place, and she felt rather badly about neglecting him. She had requested Winky to prepare his favourite kippers for breakfast this morning, to make it up to him that she was rushing off, yet again, and leaving him to amuse himself.
“I do not know how long we will be out,” she murmured to him before leaving the table. “It can be quite time-consuming for a girl to choose her wedding robes.”
The young ladies streamed away from the table, chattering to one another. Stormy looked after them, a frown on her face.
“Why can’t I go? I want to see Skye’s wedding dress.”
Minerva McGonagall left her chair and approached Stormy, one hand held out invitingly. “But I need your assistance today, Stormy. Won’t you stay and help me?”
Stormy obediently took the proffered hand. “Truly, Auntie Min?”
“Oh yes, my dear. I cannot possibly manage without you.”
Sophronia smiled fondly after the old lady and her eight year old companion as they left the room, then covered Sirius’ hand with her own. “I must away, but please take your time and finish your breakfast, Siri “ Winky made it especially for you.”
“Don’t mind me, Sophie,” Sirius told her, raising her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles. “I’ll see you tonight.”
Sophronia gave him one last smile before whisking out of the room.
Sirius watched her until he could no longer see her, and then he became aware of Snape’s sour look trained upon him. The two old enemies faced one another from opposite ends of the dining table.
“I sincerely hope you do not mean to muck it up, this time,” Snape groused.
Sirius quelled the urge to make a smart retort and reminded himself that this man considered himself to be responsible for Sophie, as well as for her daughters. They would be forever bound by the girls, who would be Sirius’ stepchildren, in addition to being Snape’s sisters. It would behove him to seek peace with Snape, no matter how much it galled him to do so. Their history had been a bitter jockeying for position since they were eleven years old, but Sirius was ready to put it aside in favour of the happiness he had found with Sophie.
“I don’t intend to let her get away again,” Sirius said. “I made many mistakes in my youth that I will always regret.”
Grey eyes held black ones as the two men considered one another, each wondering if the other were sincere, and each also knowing that this bridge had to be crossed, for Stormy’s sake, if for no other reason.
Snape slowly nodded at the scope of these words. “I suppose we all have,” he allowed, returning his attention to his newspaper, while Sirius attacked his kippers with renewed gusto.
Snape had just settled himself in the library when Dobby interrupted him.
“Dobby is sorry to disturb the professor, Sir, but Miss Fleur is waiting for Sir in the sitting room.”
When Snape joined Fleur in the first floor sitting room, she was sitting with Shadow and was full of news.
“Have you heard, Severus? The Ministry of Magic has banned Apparition in the London area until further notice! It will be just as it was in the last days of the war!”
Fleur handed him a Special Edition of the Daily Prophet which contained the surprising information. Scanning the newspaper, Snape emitted a dark chuckle. “The dunderheads were not capable of rounding up all of the Death Eaters after the war, and were entirely unable to protect my family from the machinations of Alverard, yet now that the Order has cleaned up the mess for them, they are getting all wound up about things.” He tossed the paper onto the coffee table, a pronounced sneer on his face. “Fools.”
The doorbell chimed and they were soon joined by Percy Weasley, who bustled in, full of importance. “The Ministry has found a nest of Death Eaters in Kent!” he reported excitedly.
“They have not,” Snape retorted, leaning his shoulder against the mantelpiece, regarding Percy with derision. “They have found Alverard’s mother sitting in the middle of a pile of smashed china knick-knacks, recovering from a prolonged period of control under the Imperius Curse. There is not a word about additional Death Eaters being captured.”
Percy scowled. “I imagine that Ministry officials might have information which they do not care to share with you, Professor Snape.”
Snape quirked an eyebrow, willing to settle back and entertain himself with a bit of Percy-baiting. Fleur, recognising the signs, hurried to intercede. Affirming to Percy that they would be sure to tell Hermione he had called to see her, she personally escorted him down to the door.
“The Ministry could have information which they did not give to the Daily Prophet,” she said to Snape when she returned, her tone chastising.
“My dear Fleur, I assure you that Percy Weasley could not possibly know anything about the Death Eaters that I do not know, regardless of his high placement in the Ministry of Magic.”
Fleur pressed her lips together, her displeasure evident. “I do not like to see you making fun of someone simply for being of a serious disposition.”
“I have no opposition to seriousness; it is pomposity which I find objectionable,” he returned dryly.
Shadow was recounting the story to Hermione later that afternoon when Snape stopped in the doorway to listen.
“Severus was just getting comfortable, settling in to really needle Percy for a while, when Fleur hustled him out of here,” Shadow said, and Hermione looked across the room to lock eyes with Snape, the amusement in his face matching the merriment in hers. For the first time in weeks, they shared a moment that seemed to put them right back in their easy days of camaraderie at the Estuary.
“Poor Percy,” Hermione said, her voice full of laughter.
Snape quirked an eyebrow and scoffed. “He deserves what he gets.”
Shadow, watching the strange byplay between her brother and Hermione, reminded them of her presence by saying, “Well, Fleur certainly seems to agree with him about things.”
Hermione looked away from Snape, gaping comically at Shadow. “Percy and Fleur! They would be perfect for one another. Now, why did I not think of that before?”
Snape growled from the doorway. “Perhaps it was because you recalled that Miss Delacour is betrothed to me?”
Hermione returned her attention to Snape, a look of mock thoughtfulness upon her face. “No, I don’t think that was the reason.”
Snape walked away from the impertinent girl, incensed.
Continue on immediately to Chapter 25 -- Part B