Aftermaths, Part 102

by Geri ([email protected])

Rating: Mostly PG-13, but NC-17 for overall story

Pairing: Snape/Lupin, Theodore/Blaise

Warning: AU; events that occurred at the end of Order of the Phoenix were significantly altered from the book.

Sequel to: Always, Summer Vacation, For Old Time's Sake, Three's a Crowd, Return of the Raven, Phoenix Reborn, and Phoenix Rising.

Summary: The various characters deal with the aftermath of the war, and Snape and Lupin try to build a family together with Theodore and Dylan. However, some people are unable to let go of the past...

Author's note: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Hob, who belongs to William Mayne; no money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.
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In the hospital wing, Cyril took a seat near the door, all the way across the room from Theodore's bed, apparently to give Selima some privacy; maybe he was embarrassed because he had seen her crying. He idly flipped through some magazines that had been left lying around the wing, but there was a certain air of alertness and tension about him, and Selima somehow knew that he would be ready to spring into action at the first sign of danger.

It was strangely reassuring to have a werewolf guarding the door, and Selima relaxed a little, pulled up a chair beside Theodore's bed, and sat there quietly, watching her grandson sleep. Such a simple, ordinary thing as watching him sleep peacefully, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in and out, suddenly seemed like a miracle, a moment to be treasured and cherished. Her husband, if he had been alive, would have laughed at her for being so sentimental, but she no longer cared about that. She reached out and placed her hand over Theodore's.

He blinked and whispered, "Grandmother?"

"I'm sorry, child," Selima said softly. "I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

But he did not go back to sleep, although his eyes were only half-open. "Where's Father?" he asked.

"He went to talk to the Headmaster," Selima replied. "He'll be back soon." She started to pull her hand back, but his fingers curled around hers, holding it in place. His grip was weak and she could easily have broken it and pulled away, but she let her hand remain where it was.

"You and Father have really stopped fighting?" he asked anxiously.

"We are not fighting," Selima said, trying to sound reassuring. {At least, not at the moment,} she added silently.

Maybe Theodore picked up on her unspoken words, because he persisted, "You aren't mad at each other?"

His hand tightened around hers a little, and Selima was surprised to see how much her quarrel with Severus must have upset him. She knew that he was devoted to Severus, so she would have expected him to take his father's side and be angry with her, not to look so dismayed, almost frightened. Which meant that...he cared about her as well as Severus. That realization made her tremble a little.

"I am not angry at your father, child," she said. "Although I could not blame him if he were angry at me."

"Because of what Lord Severin did?" Theodore asked.

"Yes," Selima said.

"And because you never tried to stop him."

It wasn't really a question, but Selima whispered, "Yes."

"Why?" Theodore asked. "How could you let him do that to your son?"

His quiet voice, no louder than a whisper, sounded like the voice of her conscience to Selima. She bowed her head and said, "I was taught to obey my husband in all things," but she knew it wasn't really an excuse.

"My mother was scared of my father," Theodore whispered. "Were you scared of Lord Severin?"

"No," Selima replied honestly. "He wasn't like your father--your biological father. He never struck me or threatened me, or even raised his voice to me."

"He never hurt you, but he hurt Father?" Theodore asked, sounding confused.

Selima sighed. "I'm not saying that what he did was right, but he didn't do it just to be cruel, or because he got pleasure out of hurting people. He did it because he believed that swift, strong punishment would prevent further disobedience or mischief. He did it because that was how his parents had disciplined him as a child."

Theodore shuddered. "I'm glad I never met his parents."

"I was not afraid of Severin," Selima said. "I'm not sure what he would have done if I had defied him and tried to intervene on Severus's behalf. He would have been angry, of course, but I don't know if he would have gone so far as to try to hex or curse me. But that was not really what I was afraid of." She never spoke of such things aloud, never even examined them too closely in her own mind, but something in Theodore's eyes seemed to draw the confession out of her. "When I married Severin, I gave up my old life and my chance of love with Prospero. All I had left was my duty to my family, and then to my husband, and my status as Severin's wife." She smiled bitterly. "Duty and status. And if I lost that, if I botched this marriage and disgraced myself and my family, then everything I sacrificed would have been for nothing."

"You were afraid Lord Severin would have divorced you if you defied him?" Theodore asked sympathetically.

"Not exactly," Selima sighed. "I did not let myself feel fear--or love, or anything else but duty and ambition. I was forced into this marriage, but I was resolved not to let it fail. No--I wanted to do more than not fail; I was determined to succeed in my new life. I rejected my former life, told myself that love was a waste of time. I focused all my energy and effort into becoming a proper pureblood wife, into advancing the Snape family and making my husband a powerful man in the wizarding world."

"Did you hate your husband because you had to give up Lord Prospero for him?" Theodore whispered. "Is...is that why you and Father...?"

His voice trailed off, but Selima knew what he meant. "You are asking, is that why I was such a bad mother to Severus?" she said softly. "Did I resent him because I never wanted to marry his father?"
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Theodore wasn't aware that Lukas was in the room, and Selima seemed to have forgotten that he was there; the two of them were wrapped up in their own little world as Selima talked about her past. Her voice was very soft, but thanks to his enhanced werewolf senses, Lukas was able to pick up every word, and it made him very uncomfortable. He sighed a little as he flipped through a back issue of Witch Weekly, not really concentrating on recipes for pumpkin cookies or gossipy stories about which famous wizards and witches were dating each other. He didn't really want to know about the Snape family's problems, which seemed even more complicated than he had originally thought, because he already had enough of his own. But he couldn't help but notice that for all of Lady Selima's wealth and power, she didn't seem to be a very happy woman. In fact, from what he had just heard, combined with what he already knew, he would say that her life had been a rather bleak and lonely one. Perhaps that was partly her own fault, but still, he felt a little sorry for her. Lukas's parents had had a happy marriage, and he was beginning to understand just how rare that was among the pureblood elite. He was also shocked to hear that she had apparently been in love with Prospero Zabini before marrying Severin Snape; hmm...that might explain a few things, like why Prospero was suddenly taking an interest in an old friend's son. Perhaps it was not just a sense of duty to Cynric that had prompted his visit to Lukas, but the fact that his former lover had taken an interest in Lukas as well.

He heard footsteps coming down the hall, and quietly rose from his seat and peered out the door; neither Selima nor Theodore paid him any heed. He had started to reach for his wand, but saw that it was Snape and Lupin, and let his hand fall back to his side.

"How is Theo?" Lupin asked in a hushed voice.

"He's fine," Lukas whispered. "He and Lady Selima are...er...talking."

Something in the werewolf's voice and face put Snape on alert, and instead of announcing himself, he slipped into the room silently and stealthily, like a spy. He saw Selima sitting at Theodore's bedside, holding his hand and talking to him in a quiet voice. His mother was normally a very observant woman, but she didn't seem to notice him approach and duck behind one of the privacy screens that stood beside each bed.

"You were afraid Lord Severin would have divorced you if you defied him?" Theodore was asking. That was something Snape had never considered before; his parents had always presented a united front, and Selima had never seemed afraid of Severin. But status was everything to Selima, and she would certainly have lost all of her considerable status if her husband had divorced her.

"Not exactly," Selima replied. "I did not let myself feel fear--or love, or anything else but duty and ambition. I was forced into this marriage, but I was resolved not to let it fail. No--I wanted to do more than not fail; I was determined to succeed in my new life. I rejected my former life, told myself that love was a waste of time. I focused all my energy and effort into becoming a proper pureblood wife, into advancing the Snape family and making my husband a powerful man in the wizarding world."

Looking more than a little embarrassed, Lukas whispered to Lupin, "Now that you two are back, I'll be going," and hastily fled the room.

Snape paid no attention to him, because Theodore had just asked a question that he very much wanted to hear the answer to: "Did you hate your husband because you had to give up Lord Prospero for him? Is...is that why you and Father...?"

"You are asking, is that why I was such a bad mother to Severus?" Selima said softly. "Did I resent him because I never wanted to marry his father?"

Snape waited for the answer, feeling almost spellbound. He held his breath for a moment, not wanting to make any noise that might distract her.

There was a brief silence, then Selima said, "I did not hate Severin. I resented him a little at first, because his marriage offer ruined any chance I had of marrying Prospero, but he didn't do it on purpose. He didn't know about Prospero; no one did, except for Cynric and Anya. Probably if he had known, he might have reconsidered his proposal, because he wouldn't have wanted a wife who might disgrace him by carrying on an affair behind his back. And besides...deep down, I always knew that Prospero wasn't really Ministry of Magic material, and that my father would probably never consent to our marriage." She sighed. "It was just a foolish childhood dream. I could have hated Severin, but what would be the point, except to make myself more miserable? I was bound to him for life, whether I liked it or not."

"But you didn't love him, either," Theodore said.

"No," Selima agreed, "I didn't. I respected him, and I did my duty to him, that is all. He wasn't the kind of man who invited love, nor did I want to love him--or anyone else, for that matter."

"Including Father?" Theodore asked quietly. It was as if Theodore was voicing Snape's inner thoughts, all the things he had always wondered but never dared to ask.

"I...I..." Selima's voice shook a little as she fought to get the words out, speaking in a hoarse whisper. "I gave up on love to do my duty. The only way I could be a good wife and not hate my husband was to feel...nothing. Not love, not hate, just...nothing." A single tear trickled down her face. "That was how I could marry a stranger and watch Prospero marry another woman without screaming or crying myself to sleep at night. That is how I could stand by and watch while my husband cast a Cruciatus Curse on my son. I knew I should have felt something more than what I did. I knew I should have wanted to protect my son, but..." Both her voice and her hands trembled. "But if I let myself...feel...again, I might have fallen apart." She laughed harshly, and her hand clenched convulsively around Theodore's. "As I am doing now."

Theodore stared at her thoughtfully for awhile, then finally said, "I was so scared of my father that I always did whatever he told me to, even keep silent about my uncle's death. If it hadn't been for the Professor and Remus, I probably would have become a Death Eater myself. And I probably would have married Serafina like my parents had planned, even though I loved Blaise."

Selima shook her head. "It's not the same thing. No one was threatening me." Looking weary and haunted, she whispered, "I wish...I wish I could go back and change things, but now it's too late."

Snape was shaken by what he had just heard. It was too much for him to deal with right now, and he needed to think it over before he decided what, if anything, he was going to say to his mother about it. He slowly backed away, intending to slip out of the room before Selima realized he was there, but his distraction made him clumsy, and he bumped into a chair as he stepped back without watching where he was going.

The noise made Selima's head jerk up with a start. "Severus!" she exclaimed, sounding dismayed, then her face turned red and she stared down at the floor.

Snape stood there, looking just as awkward, his face turning just as red.

"Father," Theodore said anxiously.

Lupin immediately glided forward and took charge of the situation. "I'll stay with Theodore," he said cheerfully. "Why don't you and Lady Selima go for a walk, Severus? She looks a little tired; perhaps you could take her to get a cup of tea." And somehow Selima and Snape found themselves hustled out of the hospital wing by the werewolf, in a gentle yet brisk and efficient manner. They walked down the hall, still flushing and not looking at one another.

Lupin sat down in the chair that Selima had just vacated, and smiled down reassuringly at his foster son, who was still looking a little worried. "Don't worry, Theo," he said confidently. "Everything will be all right."
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Snape and Selima walked in silence down the corridor. "I'm sorry, Severus," Selima finally said.

"I suppose it's partly my fault for eavesdropping," Snape muttered.

"That's not what I meant," Selima said. "I am sorry that I never stopped your father from cursing or hexing you." Snape came to an abrupt halt, and finally turned to look at her, and Selima met his gaze unflinchingly. "You heard what I told Theodore, but I know that's no excuse for what I did--or rather, didn't do, and I don't expect you to forgive me. But I am truly sorry, and I will always regret it."

Snape stared at her, filled with emotions so conflicting and turbulent that he wasn't sure what he felt. Finally he said, "Let's discuss this somewhere a little more private." He led her to the nearest empty room, which happened to be the History of Magic classroom. He leaned against a desk, fidgeting nervously, while his mother just stood there and stared at him with an outward appearance of calm. No--on second thought, there was a certain amount of tension in her stance. It reminded him of an accused Death Eater steeling him or herself to face a judge and jury, which annoyed him for some reason. Was he really that terrifying? he wondered, ignoring the fact that he had cultivated that image for years among the students. "When did this change of heart come about?" he asked, his voice coming out a bit more sarcastic than he had intended.

But Selima did not take offense, and quietly replied, "I'm not sure, exactly. I think it has always bothered me, although I pretended that it didn't. But I suppose I didn't really admit it to myself until..." She hesitated for a moment, and flushed a little. "Until Professor Lupin and I had a talk on the day of your father's funeral."

Snape remembered walking in on Selima and Lupin in the study, and being shocked by her tear-streaked face. He wasn't sure what had shocked him more--that his mother had been weeping, or that she had been weeping in front of the werewolf. "That's what you were talking about that day?!" he exclaimed. He couldn't imagine his mother discussing such personal things with anyone, let alone Lupin. Then again, Lupin had a way of drawing people out, almost against their will.

"Among other things," Selima said, still flushing.

"But you never said anything about it to me until now," Snape said.

"I didn't see the point," Selima replied. "Saying 'I'm sorry' wouldn't erase the past. I didn't expect you to forgive me just because I apologized; in fact, I thought it might make you angry, as if I thought a few simple words could make up for everything you suffered."

Snape stared at his mother in surprise. She held little mercy for anyone--including herself, it seemed. He couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for the fact that she judged herself by the same standards that she judged everyone else.

"I didn't think that apologizing would change anything," Selima said. "Was I wrong?"

"I'm...not sure," Snape said slowly. "Perhaps." He had hated Sirius Black for a long time, even after he apologized about the Shrieking Shack incident, but in the end, it meant something to him to know that Black felt remorse for what he had done. He didn't think that he could have forgiven Black without that knowledge.

"I'm sorry," Selima repeated, although Snape was not sure whether she was still apologizing for the past, or for not apologizing sooner.

There was a long, awkward silence. Snape wasn't sure if he could forgive his mother, but he could no longer seem to summon up the old feelings of hatred and resentment. He thought about what she had said, about trying not to feel anything through all the years of her marriage, and it reminded him uncomfortably of himself. "When I first broke up with Lupin, years ago," he said hesitantly, "I decided to hate him, because it was easier than missing him." He wasn't sure how much she knew about his past history with Lupin, but she just nodded without asking any questions. There was another long silence, which Snape broke by laughing, a little bitterly, but not without genuine amusement. "Father would be horrified if he could see us now, acting so sentimental," Snape said. "Weeping over Theodore, reminiscing about past lovers..."

"Yes, he would," Selima agreed, smiling faintly. Then her expression turned serious, and she asked, "Do you know why your father was so adamant that you not fall prey to sentimentality?"

"Because it was a weakness," Snape said, surprised by the question. "Isn't that what he always said? Or did you have a more specific reason in mind?"

"When he was about five or six years old, his father decided that Severin was becoming too attached to his favorite nursemaid, so he dismissed her," Selima replied, her black eyes unreadable. "When he wept and asked where she had gone, Severin's father told him that he had just learned a valuable lesson: that the girl did not love him, and that she cared for him only so long as she was paid to. He said that love was an illusion and a luxury that only the weak could afford."

Snape suddenly recalled one of his father's favorite sayings, which he had repeated so often that even now, Snape could recite it by rote without thinking: "Sentimentality is a luxury only the weak can afford". "Father told you that?!" Snape exclaimed. Severin had never talked much about his childhood, and Snape realized now that he knew very little about his father's past.

"Not really," Selima said. "He let a little of it slip out when Vanessa Malfoy suggested that he hire a nursemaid to help me after you were born. He let me hire as many servants as I pleased to take care of mansion, but he was insistent that his son not be raised by an outsider. I learned a little more from the portrait of Lord Stefan, before Severin had him locked up in the attic. He said that the girl coddled Severin and kissed him and sang him lullabies, and that he couldn't allow her to make his heir soft and weak."

Snape's grandfather had died before he was born, but he remembered the portrait of a disagreeable old man, with the same hooked nose and cold eyes as Severin's, who had finally been banished to the attic after offering one too many pieces of unwanted advice to his son.

"Vorcher remembered the girl, too," Selima said softly. "He said that she was a pretty girl with gold hair, and that she wept when Lord Stefan fired her and she had to leave. He said that after that, Lord Stefan hired more nursemaids, but they were all middle-aged and not so pretty, and that none of them sang lullabies. And they would stay for only a few months at a time before Lord Stefan would replace them with a new one."

Snape found it difficult to picture his father as a little boy weeping for the nursemaid who had raised him. He had always remembered Severin as being hard and cold, strong and unyielding. Damn it, he didn't want to feel sorry for his father! He didn't want to understand what had made Severin the way he was; he just wanted to hate him--was that too much to ask? "Am I supposed to feel sorry for him?" Snape asked petulantly.

"No," Selima replied in an even voice. "That doesn't justify what he did to you, and I don't expect you to forgive him. But I want you to know that he did it because he believed that he was making you stronger. Because he believed that you would need that strength to survive and prosper among the pureblood elite."

Snape turned to stare out of one of the classroom windows, looking at nothing in particular, not knowing what to say or what to think.

"Severin was not really suited to life as a Lord," Selima continued. "He did not take joy in playing the game of politics like his friend Lucien Malfoy did. I don't think that he really wanted a family; he postponed marrying or even searching for a bride until he was nearly forty. His father had just died, and it suddenly became imperative for him to have an heir and ensure the succession. The only things that Severin truly loved were his books and his research. He would have been suited to the life of a scholar-monk in earlier times, perhaps. If he had been a younger son, he could still have been a scholar, but he was the eldest and only son, so he did his duty as heir, and married and led a life of ambition instead of study."

Snape's parents, it seemed, had given up people and things that they loved in order to do their duty to their families. No wonder it had galled them so much that he refused to fall into line and do his duty--not that he had any intention of making himself miserable just for the sake of duty and tradition. But still... "I know so little about who Father really was," Snape murmured, more to himself than Selima, and he was surprised to find that he regretted it.

"We could still complete the portrait of your father, if you wish," Selima said. "I know it's not the same thing, but it does have Severin's memories. It might be able to tell you about his past, if you really want to know."

Snape shuddered a little at the thought of his father glaring down at him from the wall, the way the portrait of Mrs. Black did to Sirius. The thought of talking to something that was less than a phantom, a mere shadow of Severin's true self, held little appeal for Snape. "No, thank you, Mother," he said. "I'm not that desperate. Besides, you know we'll only fight, and then he'll end up in the attic with all the other Snapes." He managed an ironic smile, and Selima actually laughed a little in response.

"I suppose you're right, Severus."

"If you could do it over again," Snape said suddenly, without really thinking about it, "would you do things differently? Would you have married Prospero Zabini and to hell with what your family wanted?"

Selima looked startled at first, then stared at him intently, and for a moment he thought that she wasn't going to answer. Then she said, "But then Marius would be my son, not you. And...Marius is a decent man, but he will never be...exceptional. He does not have the ambition or drive to become more than the owner of a junk shop. He does not have the courage it must have taken not just to fight the Death Eaters, but to live among them as a spy. And he most certainly does not have the brazen effrontery to take a werewolf--and a male, Gryffindor werewolf, at that--as a lover."

Selima smiled, just a little, a very faint upward curving at the corners of her mouth, and Snape stared at her in shock. "Marius might have turned out differently, with a little Bashir blood in him," Snape pointed out.

"Perhaps," Selima said. "But you would also have turned out differently, with whatever mother that your father would have chosen if he had not married me. And there is the fact that Blaise would not exist--at least, not as he is now. So, having taken everything into consideration, I think that I prefer things as they are now."

That was not really the answer Snape had expected to hear, but it made him realize that everything that had happened in his life had led him to this moment, and resulted in what he had now: Lupin, Theodore, and Dylan. If he had been raised in a loving family, then he would not have been so desperately lonely. And if he had not been so lonely, perhaps he would not have been so drawn to Lupin. Perhaps he and Lupin would never have become lovers. That thought scared him more than anything ever had--including the fear of being discovered as a spy and tortured by Voldemort. If he and Lupin had never become lovers and then parted bitterly over the Shrieking Shack prank, then he might never have become a Death Eater, in which case, he would never have become a spy for the Order. Without the information he had brought to the Order, perhaps the Dark Lord would have won, and they would all be either dead or slaves of Voldemort now. Or, perhaps the Order and Potter would have triumphed in the end even without Snape's help. But if he had not been a Death Eater, he would not have been in a position to befriend Dylan and Theodore. They might have fallen prey to the Dark Lord, and been killed or corrupted. At the very least, they would not be his sons now. That thought scared him as much as the thought of losing Lupin did, and he grabbed at the edge of a desk to steady himself as he felt a tremor run through his body. He had hated all those bitter, lonely years he had spent without Lupin, but maybe they had been necessary in order for him to achieve the happiness he had now.

"Severus?" Selima asked, a look of concern on her face. "Are you all right?"

Snape released the desk and started to say, "Yes," but just then, Professor Binns's ghostly form floated through the blackboard and said, "The goblin rebellions in Britain began in the early 1600s--"

Selima jumped a little, and Snape shouted, "Binns! What are you doing here? It's Saturday!"

Binns droned on for a minute more, before he blinked and turned to look at Snape. "Mr. Snape?" he said, sounding surprised. "Are you in this class?" He looked around the empty room. "Where are all your classmates?"

"I haven't been a student for twenty years!" Snape snapped. "I'm a Professor now, remember? And no one's here because there are no classes on Saturday!"

"Oh," Binns said, a vague and confused look in his eyes. "Well, as long as I'm here, I might as well continue...the first goblin uprising took place in--"

Snape motioned for Selima to follow him, and they left Binns there, droning on contentedly to an empty room. He shook his head and muttered grumpily, "I didn't know it was possible for ghosts to become senile!"

Selima laughed. "He hasn't changed a bit from when I was a student! Well...actually, he was alive back then, but otherwise he's still the same."

"We should get back to the hospital wing," Snape said. "Theodore needs us." He hesitated, then said, "He needs both of us."

Selima stared into his eyes, then slowly nodded, seeming to understand what he really meant without him needing to explain it further, and they walked together back to the hospital wing.
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Meanwhile, McGonagall, Dumbledore, and the other teachers were in the Gryffindor common room. McGonagall ordered the students to line up and present their wands to her, and since she started with the seventh-years, it wasn't long before she came to Neville Longbottom, who stared at her with a worried, shamefaced look, his hands empty, no wand in sight.

"Oh no," McGonagall sighed wearily.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Neville said miserably. "I lost my wand yesterday sometime between Transfiguration class and dinner. I guess I should have said something, but I didn't think it was that important. I thought I had just misplaced it somewhere."

"It's true," Allegra said earnestly. "We helped him look all over for it--the library, the greenhouse, the hallways, the dorm. We figured it must be in your classroom, since that's where he last saw it, but we didn't want to bother you until after the match was over."

McGonagall reached into her pocket and pulled out the wand that the Aurors had found. "By any chance, is this your wand, Mr. Longbottom?"

"Yes, ma'am," Neville said in a small voice. "Someone...someone used my wand to cast that spell at the Quidditch match today, didn't they?"

McGonagall sighed again, which seemed answer enough.

"Who's going to tell Severus that we found the owner of the wand, but that we're no closer to catching the culprit behind the pranks than we were before?" Satoshi asked nervously. No one seemed eager to volunteer.

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