A Very Long Day
Chapter 4: Better Days
–Papa?â€
Severus awoke instantly to the soft, timid voice of his daughter. When he opened his eyes, he saw her standing next to his bed, wringing the fabric of her nightgown in her hands as she gazed at him with worry and fear in her voice. He sat up, grabbing for his wand on the table beside the bed. With a wave, he sent a slight illumination to the oil lamp.
–What is it?†he asked.
–I had a bad dream. Can I sleep in here with you?â€
She didn’t wait for a reply as she clambered over his blanketed legs to take up residence at his side. She tugged at the duvet underneath her and, once she’d freed it from beneath her own bottom, she pulled it up over herself and snuggled into him, laying her head against his chest.
Severus raised his eyebrows at her audacity, but didn’t comment on it as he looped his arm around her thin frame and leaned back into the pillows. He also bit back a colorful curse when her icy feet came up to rest against the side of his thigh. How her toes could lose every ounce of heat in the middle of the summer was beyond him. Perhaps he needed to start mixing a blood-circulation elixir into her morning porridge.
–Well?†he asked. –What was this dream?â€
Zoe shrugged. –It was scary. You were in it, but I couldn’t see your face. I just felt you there, but you couldn’t help me. And Minerva was there too, but she couldn’t help me either.â€
–Help you?â€
She nodded. –Yeah, I was running away, but I wasn’t going anywhere. Neither of you could help me.â€
–What were you running from?â€
–I don’t remember now. I just know I was scared.â€
Severus didn’t respond to that. It seemed like a typical nightmare, really. Zoe didn’t have them often and, usually by the time she regaled the dream to him, she couldn’t remember what had scared her in the first place.
When she had quieted, he nonverbally cast a Tempus Charm into the air. The time 23:56 was illuminated in faint, yellow numerals above the bed. Severus’s eyes widened in exasperation. Merlin, was it too much to ask that this day simply end?
He looked down at Zoe. She had her eyes closed and her breathing was becoming slower. Severus raised a single eyebrow, for it hadn’t taken much to get her back to contentedness again.
–Are you ready to go back to bed now?†he asked quietly, knowing the eight-year-old was not quite asleep just yet.
–No,†she protested sleepily, but quite emphatically, drawing the word out for a few seconds, as she turned her face to bury it in the fabric of his nightshirt. Severus couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her melodramatic tactics.
–You are getting too old to sleep with me when you have a nightmare,†he said quietly, his tone informative, rather than scolding. He moved a bit of her hair away from her face and looked down on her. –Hmm?â€
–I was scared, Papa,†Zoe stated again, her words nearly slurred with fatigue.
Severus sat there for several minutes after that, not really thinking about much, simply waiting for Zoe to fall fully out of consciousness.
Once she had, he pulled the covers away from both their legs and slid toward the edge of the bed, holding Zoe close to him. Delicately, he heaved the little girl up into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder as her arms hung limply at her sides. He rose in order to take her back to her bed.
In the attic, he carefully eased her down onto her own mattress, making sure not to disturb her slumber. This was a movement that he had practiced and finessed over the years--gotten down to an exact science, almost--as only the father of a young child could have.
He cast another Tempus into the air.
00:12.
Satisfied that the day was finally over, he quietly made his way back to his own bedroom, hopeful for a new--less trying--day.
///////
The next morning, Zoe awoke refreshed, though slightly perturbed that her father had brought her back up to her own bed after her nightmare. Thinking back on the events of the day before, she shook her head. Everything seemed silly now: the fights with Scorpius and the Muggle boys, working herself up and crying all because her father had threatened to give her a smack for kicking the wall. Silly…and kind of babyish.
She dressed in a lightweight skirt and t-shirt for the day. Smoothing her skirt down, she slipped into a pair of ballet flats as well as a wizard’s robe, which she left open, and crossed to her chest of drawers. She looked at herself in the mirror above it for a moment before reaching for her hairbrush and pulling the tie from the end of the plait her father had put her hair into the night before.
As she brushed through the long, wavy tresses, she suddenly became worried. Was her father angry with her? Annoyed, maybe? She hadn’t finished her allotted quiet time the night before. Would he make her sit the remaining minutes this morning? Zoe supposed she could understand if he said she had to, though she hardly wanted to. Quiet time, like restriction, was very boring.
When she had finished untangling her hair, she took a glance out her window and Zoe wondered if her father would even be awake this early. She had roused him in the middle of the night, after all. However, he was normally up with the sun, it seemed, but maybe she could sneak downstairs, solicit Ollie for some toast, and be outside playing for a while before he rose and could impose the previous evening’s punishment on her.
Or maybe he would just forget about it.
Resolved, Zoe walked as quietly as possible down the attic stairs and silently closed the door, sealing it off from the first floor landing. She tiptoed down the corridor to the door to her father’s bedroom and opened it a crack to peek inside. Her shoulders slumped. He had already vacated the room and that meant that she would encounter him at breakfast.
Sighing heavily, Zoe steeled herself for more lecturing on her naughty behavior and a day devoted to paying for it as she solemnly descended the stairs to the ground level.
Zoe peeked around the doorway into the kitchen and saw her father sitting in his normal chair, sipping coffee and perusing The Daily Prophet. She supposed she should get this over with but before she could properly prepare herself to fully enter into the kitchen, she heard her father speak.
–Zoe, do stop lingering in the doorway. It’s rude. Come have your breakfast.â€
Zoe met her father’s gaze. His voice had been firm, but the eyes below his arched eyebrows danced with something akin to amusement at her antics. How did he do that? He didn’t seem to have noticed her from behind the newspaper a moment ago, but apparently, he had.
–Yes, Papa,†she said obediently and crossed the short space to sit across from her father at the table. He pushed a bowl of dry cereal toward her and poured her a glass of milk. Zoe took a sip of the cool milk before pouring it onto the cereal and tucking in.
–Did you sleep well after your dream?†her father suddenly asked, looking across the table at her with the tiniest glimmer of concern on his relatively impassive face.
Zoe nodded slightly as she grabbed for a piece of toast. –Yes.â€
–Thank Merlin,†he responded melodramatically. –I don’t know that I have the stamina to endure another day of insufferable eight-year-old attitude and dramatics.â€
Then he raised the Prophet back up to resume reading. Zoe wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at the paper that shielded her father’s view of her.
–Put your tongue back in your mouth, young lady, before I use it in a potion,†he reprimanded evenly.
Zoe did just that as her eyes widened. Seriously, how did he do that?
–There aren’t any potions that have peoples’ tongues in them,†Zoe defended moodily.
–Oh? One failed brew and suddenly you’re a potions scholar? Perhaps you’d like to test that theory?†her father challenged from behind the newspaper.
Zoe wrinkled her nose again, but remained quiet.
–I didn’t think so.â€
Zoe took another bite of her cereal and fidgeted.
–Papa,†she started apprehensively, –do I have to finish my quiet time from last night?â€
Her father put the paper aside, watched her for a moment, and then shook his head.
–I don’t think that will be necessary. Do you?â€
Zoe shook her head ardently, inwardly sighing with relief. Her father raised his mug to his lips and finished off his coffee.
–Then…is it okay if I play outside after breakfast?â€
Putting the mug back onto the table, he leveled her with a stern look this time.
–Have you already forgotten that you have two separate punishments to fulfill today in addition to your lessons?â€
Zoe’s shoulders slumped and she slouched into her chair, looking down into her lap and pouting a bit. No, she hadn’t forgotten and it was silly of her to have even hoped that her father had. After a few moments, he sighed heavily.
–Perhaps you may spend some time in the garden late this afternoon. But it depends solely on how well you do on your geography quiz and how many times I must tell you to stop fidgeting, daydreaming, and etching daisies onto your parchment.â€
Zoe groaned. A quiz on Sunday? On top of her punishments? This really wasn’t fair.
–I’m rather wary of allowing you out of our garden at the moment, however,†her father continued. –I think it best that you stay near the house until I have had a chance to speak with your tormenters’ respective parents.â€
Zoe paled, her eyes whipping up to meet her father’s. –No! Don’t do that! I’ll never be able to play by the river again!â€
Her father wrinkled his brow. –Why is that?â€
Zoe looked into her cereal. –All the other kids will think I’m a dirty snitch.â€
She heard a scoff.
–You can hardly be a ‘dirty snitch’ when I saw the fight with my own eyes. There was no instance of tattling. Not to mention the certainty that one of those boys showed up at home with all the evidence of the brawl on his face,†her father said logically.
–I know, but… Please don’t go to their parents, Papa,†Zoe said quietly, looking back up to her father, trying to plead to him with her eyes.
Her father raised a single eyebrow and considered her for several moments. Finally, he began smoothing the lines of the newspaper with one hand, averting his eyes from her. Zoe sat quietly, waiting for her father’s response to her request.
–You’re certain my saying something will only cause further retaliation from the neighborhood children?â€
Zoe nodded and her father sighed.
–Very well, I will refrain from mentioning it--for now.†He narrowed his eyes sternly. –But if another incident comes to my attention where you’ve been surrounded, teased, and ultimately forced to defend yourself, I will not stay quiet. Is that clear?â€
Zoe nodded again.
–All right,†her father said as he stood from the table. –We’ll be starting with geography this morning, then work through some English and maths before rounding out the day with Latin just before lunch. I hope to see an improvement in your pronunciation since Thursday. Finish your breakfast and meet me in the study with your books. Ten minutes.â€
Then he left Zoe sitting at the table by herself, pouting. She hated having weekend lessons--especially in the summer. Though she was grateful that her father had decided not to talk to Eric and Ivan’s parents, Zoe couldn’t help but feel like she was still in trouble from the day before.
No longer feeling remotely hungry, Zoe sighed and got up from her chair. She took her half-eaten bowl of cereal to the sink and then proceeded back up the stairs to gather her school things.
///////
Zoe had been sitting at her little student desk on the far side of her father’s cramped study for the better part of the morning as he’d stood at the small blackboard attached to the wall, making her identify parts of speech in long paragraphs and drilling her on all the countries and capitals of Africa. She hadn’t had any difficulties and she was fairly certain that she had received full marks on her quiz. It was when they’d gotten into maths that the focus drained from Zoe’s eyes and her mind started to wander.
Zoe did not enjoy maths and she had absolutely no qualms about letting her father know it. Because of this general disinterest in the subject, she had always found it the most difficult to study or even to pay attention when her father lectured her in it. It wasn’t that she wasn’t any good at it, for she rarely got low marks, even when the work truly challenged her, but something about maths was just so…boring; so very many of the same, dull concepts were simply graduated to be harder to work through.
Zoe’s father didn’t seem to care much for the subject either for, when he was teaching her, his voice became much more monotonous and his overall demeanor smacked of displeasure and weariness. It didn’t keep him from being adamant that she approach maths with the same fervor that she did her other subjects, however. That day alone, he’d scolded her twice for not paying attention before a single threat to double her algebra assignment had yielded the desired effect of making her a rapt and studious pupil.
Twenty minutes later, however, they’d moved on to Latin and, once again, Zoe had found it difficult to focus.
–An absentis mens mos non hereditas scientia.â€
Zoe gazed wistfully out the study window trying to decide whether the cloud moving slowly across the fine, blue sky looked more like a hippogriff or a sphinx.
Suddenly, a loud BANG interrupted her daydream and caused her to jump as her composition notebook slammed down onto the Latin textbook in front of her, effectively gaining her attention. Zoe looked up into the blazing eyes of her father.
–A translation, if you please,†he insisted.
Zoe could instantly feel her cheeks flushing as her eyes hurriedly searched the blackboard in case her father had written the phrase down, but the algebra expressions from before were still up there. Her eyes met her father’s then for a moment and she knew she was caught. She quickly averted her gaze to her lap.
–I wasn’t listening,†she mumbled quietly.
–I am quite aware,†her father said in a disapproving tone. –I am also aware that I do not stand here to listen to myself speak.â€
–I’m sorry,†Zoe said softly.
He reached down to the parchment where Zoe had been writing down the Latin vocabulary for the day only to frown at the scant notes upon it. He shook his head and sighed heavily as he handed it back to her. –Lessons are over for the day. You are obviously too preoccupied to imbibe anything more into your brain at the moment. Go wash up for lunch. We’ll eat in the conservatory where, immediately upon finishing your meal, you will begin on your punishment task from yesterday.â€
–Yes, Papa,†Zoe said obediently as she rose from her desk to make her way out of the study.
Zoe knew her father was far from pleased with her short attention span, but she didn’t feel like she could help it. It was such a beautiful day outside, after all, and she wanted to enjoy it. Instead, she was stuck inside having lessons and being forced to do chores. It wasn’t fair.
‘You got in trouble, remember? Punishments aren’t supposed to be fun,’ she scolded herself.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ she countered, hating that stupid little voice in the back of her head that always seemed to have the logical answer to things. For some reason it also sounded vaguely like her father.
If she was honest with herself, she knew she deserved her punishments and, really, they weren’t all that bad. She had blown up her bedroom, after all, and she had been fully conscious of the possible ramifications of stealing from her father’s stores. She also supposed there was so much more he could have done to punish her and yet, he’d only told her that she was going to prune plants for an hour or two. She knew she shouldn’t complain.
Entering into the little conservatory a few minutes later, she saw that Ollie had conjured up a little café table and two chairs in the corner, just inside and to the right of the door. There was no food yet, but the table had been set and a clear pitcher of water was situated between the two place settings. Her father had yet to arrive, so Zoe sat down in the chair nearest her and pulled the pitcher toward her to pour herself a glass of water. She sipped it slowly and waited.
Soon, her father swept past, his robes billowing a bit as he turned abruptly and took a seat opposite her. He too pulled the water pitcher toward him and poured himself a glass just as Ollie popped in to serve them their lunch.
–Is Mister Severus or Miss Zoe needings anything else?†the house elf asked, after placing the food on the table. She looked between the father and daughter.
–No, Ollie,†Zoe’s father said, laying his napkin into his lap. –We are more than content. Thank you.â€
Ollie nodded. –Ollie will sees to Miss Zoe’s unmade bed, then,†she said, popping out of the conservatory and leaving Zoe alone to face her father’s stern, disapproving frown.
Zoe cringed.
–You did not make it up before you came downstairs this morning?â€
–No,†Zoe said in a small voice, pushing her carrots around her plate with her fork.
–You know very well that making your bed is one of your daily chores,†he scolded.
–But I don’t like doing it and Ollie loves it,†Zoe stated in her own defense.
Her father’s frown did nothing but deepen. –That is hardly the point. You are old enough to be accountable for making your own bed. I hardly think that it is too difficult a task for a girl of eight.â€
–But Ollie makes up your bed.â€
Zoe knew immediately that she had said the wrong thing. Her father’s eyes blazed as his knife and fork came down hard on his plate. She quieted, averting her eyes away.
–By all means, persist with your cheeky back talk; for you are about to find out exactly where it is leading you.â€
He paused and closed his eyes briefly. He heaved in a breath. –Just because Ollie likes to do it, does not give you the right to take advantage of her. You are more than capable of doing the task yourself. As for Ollie making up my bed: I provide for this household and she does it as a favor to me so that I may continue to do so.â€
Zoe pouted down at her plate. She understood that, but it was still unfair that he scolded her for not doing it when he didn’t even make up his bed in the mornings. It was… what was that word? Hippocranial. Was that right? That didn’t seem right…
–I have asked Ollie to refrain from making your bed in order to teach you some responsibility,†her father continued his lecture after sipping his water again. –You will do it tomorrow morning. And don’t think that I won’t confirm with Ollie that you did.â€
–Yes, Papa,†Zoe said.
They were silent for several minutes as they simply ate. Zoe was playing with her food a bit, but her father didn’t comment on it. She could feel his eyes on her, however, but she didn’t look up at him.
–How would you feel about tackling the Pepperup Potion today after you’ve finished in here and after you’ve washed a healthy supply of vials in the laboratory?â€
Zoe’s eyes whipped up to meet her father’s immediately.
–That is, if you aren’t averse to giving up the remainder of your afternoon?â€
–You mean you’ll help me brew it today?â€
–Is that not what I just said?â€
Zoe couldn’t help the smile that erupted on her face. All thoughts of spending the day outside on such a beautiful day had vanished from her mind as well. –Yes! I don’t mind giving up my afternoon at all!â€
Her father inclined his head. –Very well. We will brew. Now, stop playing with your food and eat it.â€
Zoe grinned and obeyed.
///////
Once they had finished their lunch, Severus had immediately set Zoe to the task of pruning some simple peppermint while he discarded his robes and rolled up his white sleeves in order to tackle his most volatile plant--the lone Venomous Tentacula which was desperately in need of some attention. It required pruning and seed harvesting.
He hadn’t been at it long when he noticed that his daughter was much more intrigued by his work than her own, however. It had started as only furtive glances in his direction, a curious expression upon her face, as Severus maneuvered himself around the caustic plant, snipping off dead leaves and mature ones alike. From time to time, he would step away from the flora’s grasp and glance to Zoe whose eyes would grow wide at being caught not keeping to her assignment before she rushed to look busy. She had done a fine enough job of her work after nearly an hour that Severus had called her to him.
–I need your help with something,†he had said, watching as Zoe’s eyes alit with excitement at having been asked. –Do you think you can manage to feed the Tentacula--distract it--while I harvest its seeds?â€
Zoe nodded exuberantly . –Yes, I can.â€
–This is a venomous and very dangerous plant, Zoe,†he cautioned, –I don’t want you to jump in without knowing there are risks.â€
–I understand,†she said, a look of resolve on her face. –What do I do?â€
Severus turned and grabbed for a tin of thumb-sized, brown pellets beside the planter box, before turning back to hand them down to his daughter.
–I would like for you to focus the Tentacula’s attention to that side, while I dislodge the seed pods from this side. All you need to do is continue to feed it the pellets. Be very careful.â€
His daughter nodded her head in understanding and extracted a food pellet from the tin. She moved toward the side opposite of him and held the pellet out at arm’s length for the plant. Severus watched as the Tentacula instantly shifted its attention from him--the larger of its adversaries--to the smaller one with the treats.
Zoe inched closer slowly when suddenly the plant reached out a thick vine and plucked the pellet from Zoe’s hand, pulling it into the tangle of branches and out of sight. The girl had shrieked in surprise at the abrupt movement, but her eyes found his immediately after and Severus saw every bit of the exhilaration in the blue orbs. He smirked and set himself to his respective task.
He had only managed to secure six seed pods when he heard a loud hiss escape through the clenched teeth of his daughter. He paused in his work and looked at Zoe. She immediately took a step back from the planting box, clutching the index finger of her right hand in her left. She stared at it intently as a small trickle of blood began to seep from the wound. Then she walked around in a large arch away from the plant and approached Severus.
–It bit me,†she stated, a silent implore in her eyes for him to heal it quickly.
Severus took her hand in his and brought it up to examine it. Nodding in concession that the Tentacula had indeed cut her, he maneuvered Zoe toward the two chairs where they had shared their lunch. He sat down while Zoe stood, but inched close to him, pushing her finger toward him in earnest, a slight sheen of tears in her eyes.
–You mustn’t tease it,†Severus said, making an educated assumption as to how this had happened. He took her hand in his, holding onto just her finger. His wand slipped from his sleeve into his hand. –Tentaculas are not the most thick-skinned of magical plants.â€
He placed the tip of his wand against the pad of her finger. –Vulnera Sanentur,†he incanted and her finger glowed blue for a moment before fading, healed.
–It kept swiping at me while I was trying to get another pellet out of the tin, so I held the food away from it,†she explained. –It isn’t very patient.â€
–No. Patience is not a virtue of Tentaculas… nor eight-year-old girls,†he teased, raising a single eyebrow at his daughter. Zoe frowned at him as he raised his wand and summoned a vial from a small cupboard opposite him.
–How do I feed it if it won’t wait for me to get the food out of the tin?†Zoe asked, paying little attention to the vial that had come to hover between them.
–You must be quick,†Severus said resolutely, dropping her mended finger and reaching for the potion he had summoned and pulled out the stopper.
Zoe scowled as she brought her finger up to examine his healing of it.
–It still twinges a bit,†she said, looking into his eyes.
Severus reached out and took his daughter’s finger once more. He brought it up to his lips to peck a quick kiss to it.
–It won’t in a moment,†he said. –Here, drink half of this. It’s the antivenin.â€
Zoe didn’t ask any questions as she took the small vial and sipped it until it was only half-full before handing it back to him. Severus replaced the cork to it and rose from his chair to replace the vial to the cupboard.
–It is unlikely that you will, but you must tell me if you begin to feel faint.â€
–I will,†Zoe said.
Severus nodded once and walked back to her to guide her back toward the planter box. –Come. Only a few more pods, I think.â€
///////
A couple hours later, Zoe found herself standing on a small stool at the workbench next to her father in the cellar. True to his word, he had helped her to brew the Pepperup Potion again. Of course, they hadn’t just gotten to it. Zoe had had to wash what felt like hundreds of vials, beakers and various stirring tools first.
After they had finished the potion, he had made her walk through her original process and try to determine what it was that had caused her blunder in the first place.
Opening the singed potions book to the correct page, her father asked her to tell him exactly how she had gone about brewing the Pepperup the first time. He had nodded and listened and, in the end, he told her that she had in fact done everything correctly up to the point of the explosion.
–So, what made it explode, then?†Zoe asked curiously.
–Though some potions are effective even if brewed with incorrect measurements or some other imprecision, there are many that require perfect preparation,†her father explained as he ladled the potion into individual vials to be used for their own, household stores. –Pepperup Potion is one of the latter. Not only does it call for exactness in the way you prepare the ingredients and stir it, it also needs an ideal environment in which to be brewed.â€
He leveled her with such a stern gaze that Zoe couldn’t help but fidget.
–Do you know where you went wrong now?†he asked.
–It was my bedroom, wasn’t it?†she asked, grimacing.
Her father nodded. –There is a reason why my laboratory is in the cellar and why the potions classroom is in the dungeons at Hogwarts--why every Potions Master is tested in their proficiency with cooling charms. The temperature underground is more easily controlled than a stuffy attic bedroom. Therefore, though your Pepperup may have been the correct color and consistency when you were ready to add the habanero seed, your cauldron was much too hot. Can you think why?â€
Zoe thought for a moment, wrinkling her forehead in concentration. She tried to think back to that day, to the way the room was arranged, to how she had set up her workspace on her desk. She remembered setting everything out perfectly as she had seen her father do before and she remembered the warmth of the early June sun through the window adding to the sweat that had formed on her brow. She looked up to her father who was watching her think.
–My desk is right next to the window and the sun was coming in.â€
She thought she saw a gleam of something in her father’s eyes for a moment--something like pride--but when he spoke, he was as serious as ever.
–Yes,†he said. –There is no doubt that the sunlight added to the heat of the cauldron. When you added that catalyst ingredient, the entire brew was much too unstable to handle it and that is why it blew up.â€
–I understand,†Zoe said.
–Good.†Her father nodded, as he pulled the potions text toward her. –Now, we have some time before dinner. What would you like to brew next?â€
–I can choose any of these?†Zoe asked, looking up into her father’s face with excitement.
–I think it would be prudent to begin with more rudimentary potions so that you may begin to understand the fundamentals of brewing.â€
Zoe’s shoulders slumped, slightly crestfallen.
–So we can’t do the Blood Replenisher? Or the Draught of Living Death?â€
Her father smirked. –Zoe, you must crawl before you can run. How about this coughing solution?â€
–I suppose so.†She looked down at the list of ingredients. –Beetle eyes! Is this the same potion you give me when I’m coughing?â€
–One in the same.â€
–Gross.â€
Zoe may have wrinkled her nose at the idea of some of the ingredients, but the truth was that she thoroughly enjoyed getting her hands goopy with animal intestines and plant slime. It was almost like playing in the mud, except that it smelled worse and her father actually allowed it. After she had gotten her robes a bit dirty from the various ingredients, her father had shrunk an old set of his work robes down into a black smock for her to wear over her clothing for when they brewed. Zoe had been ecstatic about this and inwardly hoped that her and her father would have many more opportunities to brew together in the future.
After the coughing solution had been finished and bottled (though, it was a bit darker in color than the book and her father said it should be) Zoe and her father sat down to a quiet dinner before making their way to the study upstairs where he would do some work. During this time, Zoe was expected to spend some time studying the lessons they had gone over that day.
A few minutes before Zoe knew her father would send her to bathe before bed, he called her to him at his desk, backing his chair away so that she could stand fully in front of him. Zoe watched with a bit of confusion as her father waved his wand to make the light of the lamp behind him a bit brighter and then held her face in both of his hands, looking into her eyes.
–Are you aware that during moments of strong emotion, your eye color changes?†he asked, continuing to examine her face.
Zoe could feel her eyes widen at the question, but she was so flabbergasted that she didn’t respond.
–I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.â€
–Th-they change colors?†she asked, finding her voice.
–Yes, I’ve noticed it twice now. Yesterday, when you were whaling on Mr. Ibsen, your eyes were literally red with fury. The first time I noticed was at Malfoy Manor over a year ago when they appeared to be merely a lighter shade than your royal blue. At the time, I thought it simply a trick of the light. After yesterday, however, it is much more apparent that you have the ability to change them.â€
–But how do they change color?†Zoe asked.
–I’m uncertain,†her father said, taking his hands away from her face. –I would be interested to see if it is merely a physical indication of your emotions or if you have some level of control over them.â€
–How can we find out?â€
Her father arched a single eyebrow at her. –With a bit of testing, I imagine… Close your eyes.â€
Zoe wrinkled her brow. –But you won’t be able to see them if I do.â€
Her father frowned at her. –Do as you’re told,†he said in annoyance. –I promise you, there is a method to this madness.â€
Zoe sighed, but closed her eyes. Soon, her father began to talk to her quietly.
–I want you to imagine your favorite color--â€
–Pink.â€
–There’s no need to say it alou-- Since when do you like pink?†her father’s tone seemed somewhat surprised and wholly disapproving of her choice.
Zoe merely shrugged and, though she couldn’t see his face, she imagined him rolling his eyes before he sighed in concession.
–Very well. Envision your favorite color in your mind’s eye,†he continued. –Think of it as the color of every object you possess…â€
–Can I really paint my bed pink, Papa?†Zoe asked excitedly, opening her eyes to look at him.
Her father frowned. –You absolutely may not. I said imagine it. Now, close your eyes and concentrate.â€
Zoe allowed her shoulders to sag in disappointment but she did as he said and tried to imagine all the things that she owned being pink. She thought about all the walls of their little home on Spinner’s End and every single piece of furniture; imagined the books in the study and the sitting room being varying shades of the color.
–Let the color surround you; incorporate it into your clothing,†her father whispered.
That was easy to imagine, for Zoe owned a pale pink dress that she’d worn for Easter that year and she just imagined herself wearing it. Then a crazy thought popped into her head and she envisioned her father in all his black, billowing glory and replaced his dark robes with pink as pale as her Easter dress. She giggled.
–Are you concentrating?†her father asked sternly.
Zoe nodded. –Yes. I promise.â€
Then she imagined her and her father standing side by side in their pink clothing and, quickly, she replaced their pale skin and dark hair with pink as well and thought about them sitting in their pink sitting room having a rather silly conversation about how utterly absurd every other color was in comparison to the glorious hue that was pink.
–Open your eyes,†she heard her father say softly, pulling her from her imagination.
Zoe did so, staring at her father, trying to gauge his reaction as to whether she was successful or not, but his features were annoyingly neutral.
Eventually, he leaned forward and took up his wand, which was lying atop some papers on his desk, and waved it, conjuring up a small mirror. He handed it to Zoe who snatched it away from him rather greedily and turned it so she could see herself.
There, staring back at her was her face but, where normally her royal blue eyes resided, there were orbs as pale pink as her Easter dress had been. Zoe felt her jaw drop in disbelief. She looked up at her father with excited eyes.
–I did it!†she exclaimed.
He nodded once. –Yes, well done. If you wish, we can work on honing this ability. It’s a rather intriguing manifestation of your magic, I must say--one worth exploring, I think.â€
Zoe agreed. She looked down at the mirror again and was almost saddened to see the pink begin to darken back to her natural color.
–Do you think I could make the color stay longer?†she questioned.
–Yes, I imagine with a bit of practice, you could learn to use less effort to initiate the morph as well as sustain the color for longer periods of time.†Her father leveled her with a stern expression then. –And we’ll have to talk about appropriate times to change your eye color.â€
–What do you mean?†she asked, looking up to her father once more.
–I mean, you can’t have an unnatural color to your eyes when we are about in town here, for the Muggles may become suspicious.â€
–Do people really look at other peoples’ eyes that much?†Zoe asked curiously.
Her father’s eyes seemed to grow somewhat distant at that question. –You’d be surprised how much another’s eyes can have an effect…â€
He shook his head as if clearing away a thought.
–We will work to develop this ability, if you are amenable to it,†he said with finality.
Zoe nodded.
–All right, go take a bath. You smell like rat spleens and frog spawn.â€
She groaned and started to trudge away from him. –How come I have to take a bath? You always smell like potions stuff…â€
–Oh, because I’m the father and I said you have to,†he sighed, teasing her a bit, as he waved her away.
Zoe wrinkled her nose in distaste, but made her way toward the bathroom anyway.
///////
Over the next several months, Zoe came to Severus relatively frequently--once a week, at least--asking to brew one potion or another. He always gave in to her requests because the girl just seemed so intensely motivated to do a good job and Severus had no desire to quash her enthusiasm. It was clear that Zoe wanted to succeed.
The fact of the matter was, however, that, although Zoe seemed to be grasping the overall theory of brewing as well as understanding the properties of a wide array of different ingredients, her practical application of the craft was, well… dismal. If he were honest, she’d be lucky to scrape an Acceptable out of an actual Potions class--no matter how basic the class may be.
Though she could answer him as to what the active properties of a specific herb were, she was clueless as to how to prepare it. Even simple directions such as ‘chop’ and ‘cut’ were confused and she’d ruined a fair few ingredients based purely on her inability to distinguish the difference.
Her assessment of how lacewing flies could be substituted for damselflies in a Forgetfulness Draught simply because their wings were –floatier†had been rather inspired for a child her age, though--for any child, really. Scratch that. Very few of the N.E.W.T. students he’d had would have come to quite the same conclusion…
Yet, her timing was absolutely horrendous, to say the least, and her overall patience when it came to simmering, boiling, and stirring was almost at naught. Severus also grew weary of explaining why certain components went into the brew in certain orders, only to be disregarded when it came time to actually add to a potion.
He’d lost his temper with her on three separate occasions in the months since they had begun brewing. The first time, he’d made her sit beside her ruined potion and write, ‘I will not have a careless disregard of the combustibility of porcupine quills’ one hundred times before assisting her in brewing the Boil-Cure Potion again.
Once, he’d chided her a bit, after having just barely kept a mild sleeping draught from boiling over--twice--due to a miscalculation of the potency of gurdyroots and trama roots. He was certain that he had specifically told her to steep them and use only the juice for the solution, not to throw the whole damn root into the cauldron.
The last time they had brewed, he’d ended their session early and sent her away to her bedroom, unable to understand how a simple Anti-Nausea potion could yield such an acrid smoke.
He had not been proud of those moments.
That time, he’d had a remorseful, bawling nine-year-old on his hands within minutes that he had to try to convince that he was not angry with, merely slightly frustrated. Even after spending the day speaking softly to her and, once again, helping her to brew the Anti-Nausea again--almost successfully, this time--Zoe still didn’t seem to believe him.
It wasn’t until he had asked her if she would like to watch him brew the Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin that the girl seemed to perk up and forget his outburst over her failed potion. She had sat quietly and observed his every move, it seemed. Never once did she give Severus any indication that she was bored and, from time to time, she even asked some very astute questions. By the time they had finished, she had become her affable self once more--just in time for Lupin to arrive for his dose, his litter in tow.
Teddy Lupin, accompanying his father during his half-term break from Hogwarts, was now a strapping young man of sixteen and seemed to have grown as reserved as his father. He had greeted Severus with a firm handshake, called him ‘Mr. Snape’, and refused to sit down until invited. Severus had been…surprised--especially coming from the child of a Marauder. The other child, however…
–Papa! Mr. Lupin! Gracie’s in the tree!†Zoe screamed from the back garden before running through the back door and into the kitchen where Severus was sitting drinking tea and barely speaking to Lupin.
–Has she fallen from the tree?†Severus asked, putting a finger into his ringing ear as he turned to look at his daughter, who had come to stand at his side.
–No,†Zoe said.
–She hasn’t injured herself in any way?â€
–No.â€
–Ah, then I think an indoor voice will suffice for imparting such information in future.â€
–Okay. But she’s just sitting in the branches and she could fall and, well…â€
–And what?â€
–You never let me climb the tree,†the girl mumbled.
–Yes, well, unlike Mr. Lupin, I do not believe my daughter to be a monkey.â€
–But it looks like fun.â€
‘Of course it does,’ Severus thought cynically. The Lupins had been there for ten minutes and already they were corrupting Zoe with their uncouth behaviors.
He gave a look to the apparently amused professor across from him, wordlessly asking for a bit of assistance in this matter. Lupin started to rise, shaking his head.
–Not to worry, Severus. Grace is an avid tree-climber. But she knows not to climb others’ trees without permission.â€
–I’ll get her, Dad,†Teddy said, entering from the sitting room suddenly and crossing out the door to the back garden.
Lupin followed right behind his son and Severus watched them go, but turned back to see a very sour look upon his daughter’s face.
He arched an eyebrow at her.
–Mr. Lupin lets Gracie climb trees and she’s only six. I’m nine.â€
–Mr. Lupin lets Grace run wild,†Severus stated plainly, feeling the need to clarify his opinion to her. –And I’ve no doubt that he will continue to do so when she’s nine.â€
–Not so. Gracie says she gets in trouble and stuff. She doesn’t always get to do what she wants.â€
–You’re about to get in trouble and stuff, young lady. I’m not going to have this conversation with you.â€
Zoe huffed but remained quiet and turned to make her way back outside. Severus rose to follow her, coming to stand by her side on the back step. Across the small garden, Lupin and Teddy were looking up into the tree in the far right corner, opposite the greenhouse, trying to coax the small girl from it. It was only a sugar maple--a rather sickly one that had never really grown to its full potential. Through the new foliage, he could just barely make out the form of Grace Lupin as she carefully maneuvered herself down the branches until she was standing before her father and brother.
The family talked for a minute before making their way back to the Snapes. Once in front of them, Lupin gave his daughter’s shoulder a bit of pressure to push her forward so that she was standing directly in front of Severus.
Teddy Lupin may have acquired Nymphadora’s Metamorphmagus genes, but the physical features had ended there with her son. However, the petite child standing before him took much from her mother--a heart-shaped face, dark-brown eyes, and the mousy-brown hair he’d seen Nymphadora revert to on several occasions. Only her ears and gangly limbs seemed to come from her father. ‘Unfortunate girl,’ Severus thought rather meanly.
At his stern gaze, the little girl averted her eyes to her shoes.
–I’m sorry, Mr. Snape. I shoulda asked ta climb your tree.†There was little remorse in her tone.
–Indeed,†Severus said rather indifferently. He cared little that she had climbed it; only that the notion to do so had been put into Zoe’s head.
Soon after, Lupin finished his dose of Wolfsbane and the family left, leaving Severus and Zoe in the sitting room.
–I wouldn’t have fallen, you know,†Zoe said suddenly from where she was sitting on the sofa, staring at him apparently. Severus had felt her eyes through his book from where he sat across from her in his green armchair.
–You do not know that,†he stated, keeping his eyes on his book. There was silence for several beats.
–Well, I wouldn’t have gotten hurt anyway, even if I had fallen.â€
–Again, you do not know that for certain.â€
–Yes I do.â€
Severus put his book down and looked at his daughter, slightly annoyed with her arguing with him. –How do you know, then?†he challenged.
Zoe shifted uncomfortably, her expression almost instantly contrite. Severus knew now that her pride had pushed her to make her bold statement about knowing she wouldn’t have fallen and she was regretting having said anything now. He narrowed his eyes when she didn’t respond to his question.
–How do you know?†He asked again.
Zoe’s averted eyes came up to meet his. –I’ve been in the tree before,†she said sorrowfully.
–And?â€
–And I… kind of fell.â€
Severus huffed loudly, perturbed by her disobedience. –Kind of fell? How can you kind of fall? You either fell, or you didn’t.â€
–All right, I fell. But I was fine. When I hit the ground, it was soft, like… a pile of laundry.â€
Severus leveled his daughter with a stern gaze. –And when was this?â€
–A while ago.â€
–Have you continued to climb the tree despite my wishes?â€
Zoe shook her head ardently. –I wanted to but…â€
–But you had been told not to?â€
Zoe nodded.
Severus sighed. –Very well.†He pointed a finger at her. –It would be unwise to do it again.â€
Zoe’s eyes widened--no doubt shocked that he’d decided to let her get away with it--but she nodded.
In truth, Severus was only letting her off because, had she not disobeyed him and fallen from the tree, her wandless, spontaneous cushioning charm may never have manifested itself. He would have to remember to add that to his running log of Zoe’s immature magic. The girl was still two years from Hogwarts and yet, she was already so advanced for her age. Not that she knew it, of course, and there was still so much for her to learn and experience.
–Papa?†Zoe suddenly said, pulling him from his thoughts.
–Hmm?â€
Zoe shook her head. –Nothing. You were just far away for a second.â€
–Forgive me.â€
Zoe nodded and sat quietly.
–Have you been working with your eyes?†he asked her.
Zoe nodded again. –Give me a color.â€
It had become a sort-of game.
–Jade.â€
Zoe rose from her place on the sofa and made her way to him, seating herself on the arm of his chair. She turned her face to look at him and blinked and in that moment, her eyes went from royal blue to jade. Severus smirked.
–All right, you’ve been working on the greens. How about crimson?â€
–Easy,†Zoe stated confidently. She blinked and, again, her eyes were the color he had requested.
He nodded his head in approval and so their game continued until dinner.
***An absentis mens mos non hereditas scientia roughly translates to –An absent mind will not inherit knowledge.†However, that comes from my measly semester’s worth of college Latin and an online translator, so the translation may not be exact. Severus, of course, was commenting on Zoe’s lack of attention to his lecture.
A Very Long Day by MetamorphmagusLupin
Chapter Notes: The fourth and final chapter in this little glimpse. I hope you enjoy.
Chapter Endnotes: Let me know how you liked it and, more importantly, let me know if you would like to see another, full-length story with Severus and Zoe.