Aftermaths, Part 70

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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"We should be going, too, if we plan to go shopping today," Lupin said. "We don't want to be late for supper."

"Why don't you take the boys and go on ahead, Lupin?" Snape told him. "I'll meet you at Quality Quidditch Supplies in a few minutes."

The boys looked puzzled, and Lupin gave him a startled look, then smiled. "Of course, Severus. We can get started looking at broomsticks while we're waiting. Good day, Lady Selima. Thank you for the tea." The boys added their thanks, still looking puzzled, then followed Lupin out through the fireplace.

"Did you have something you wanted to discuss with me in private, Severus?" Selima asked coolly.

Snape frowned at her. "You do realize that when word gets out that you're helping Bleddri, the Slytherin elite will regard you as a traitor."

Selima calmly took a sip of tea. "I didn't think that the opinions of the Slytherin elite mattered to you, Severus."

"They don't matter to me," Snape said sharply, "but up until a couple of weeks ago, they seemed to matter very much to you! You were so concerned about the Snape family's reputation--aren't you worried that you'll ruin your grandson's chances to rise in society?"

"We have our wealth," Selima replied, her face still cool and impassive, "and we have our standing. I'm not worried about that. Despite your scandalous relationship with the werewolf, you are a hero of the war, and you have a number of powerful friends: Dumbledore, the Minister of Magic, the Donners, Lady Blackmore, not to mention the Boy Who Lived..."

"Potter is not my friend!" Snape snapped. "But that's beside the point! I want to know what's so special about Bleddri, that you'd go so far out on a limb for him!"

His mother looked up and met his eyes, but she was as good as he was at disguising her emotions, and he could read nothing in her face. "Cyril's mother was my closest friend," she said quietly. "We were friends ever since we started Hogwarts together."

"How touching," Snape sneered. "Father would be appalled, Mother, to hear such an admission of sentimentality!"

"Yes, well, your father isn't around anymore, now is he?" Selima retorted. Some emotion that Snape could not read flickered in her black eyes. "Why don't you say what you really mean, Severus?"

"You castigated me for taking Lupin as my lover," Snape said, fighting to keep his voice even. "You told me in no uncertain terms that I was disgracing the family name by publicly associating with a beast. And yet--" His voice sharpened in spite of himself. "--you are spending the Snape wealth, risking the reputation of the family name, to make another beast head of the Diggory family!"

"I thought he was your friend, Severus," Selima said.

"He's more Lupin's friend, but that's not the point!"

"Then what is the point, Severus?"

"Why are you helping a werewolf who is a complete stranger to you, when you didn't lift a finger to help your own son sixteen years ago?!" Snape shouted, finally losing control enough to say what was really bothering him. He had been almost amused at first, by his mother's efforts to meddle with the Diggory family, but a niggling, barely perceptible feeling of discontent had been gradually festering into full-blown resentment. He could hear the jealousy in his voice, and immediately fell silent, breathing heavily as he tried to regain control of himself.

Something flickered in his mother's eyes again--guilt? It was hard to tell; Snape was chagrined to admit that his mother's control was better than his own. "It was not my decision to disown you, Severus," Selima said quietly. "It was your father's."

"You could have stopped him," Snape hissed.

Selima shook her head. "I tried, Severus, but you should know better than anyone how stubborn your father could be. I told him not to be so hasty, to at least wait until after the trial; I told him that we should bribe the necessary Ministry officials to prevent there from being a trial in the first place, but he refused to listen. He was so angry, Severus, not just because you were a Death Eater and had tarnished the family name, but because you had defied him."

Snape knew that she was right, but he was not in the mood to be reasonable at the moment. "So you just went along with it," he said bitterly.

"I had no choice, Severus. He was my Lord and husband."

"What if it had gone to trial?" Snape demanded. "Would you have let them send me to Azkaban? Even Ariane's family stood by her when she was arrested. They did so only grudgingly, to be sure, and they made her and Dylan's lives miserable afterwards, but at least they did not let her be sent to prison." Selima averted her gaze, which was answer enough for Snape; his father would have let the Ministry throw him in Azkaban, and his mother would have stood by obediently like a good little pureblood wife. Snape had known this all along, and he wasn't sure why it should hurt so much now, so many years after the fact. It wasn't as if he hadn't known that his parents were heartless bastards. And hadn't he told Lupin that he had been relieved when his father had disowned him, that he had welcomed the chance to escape his family?

"But you were not sent to Azkaban," Selima finally said, looking up to meet his gaze again. "And believe it or not, I did try to help you, Severus. After you were not convicted, I persuaded your father to accept you back into the family, although of course he was too proud to openly reverse his decision. But I got him to agree to reinstate you as heir if you would come home and ask his forgiveness. But you, of course, were too proud to do so." She gave Snape a defiant glare. "Your father is not the only stubborn one in the family."

Snape glared right back at her. "You still haven't answered my question, Mother. Why go so far to help Bleddri, who is not even your own flesh and blood?" He bit his lip and flushed a little at the slight hint of a whine that had crept into his voice without his intending it.

"Love and guilt, Severus," Selima said wearily. "I loved Anya--"

The shock Snape felt must have shown on his face, because Selima almost--though not quite--smiled. Then he wondered just what exactly she meant by the word "love"; as he had once told Lupin, sexual preference had little bearing on a pureblood marriage, but that was not something that he really wanted to contemplate, at least regarding his mother...

"Not THAT kind of love," Selima said dryly, apparently guessing the direction his thoughts were taking. "But Anya was a true friend who didn't care about pureblood politics, who wasn't just being nice to me because my family might be able to do her a favor in the future. And..." She hesitated, then lowered her voice and averted her gaze; their conversation seemed to be making her uncomfortable, and in fact, it was making him a little uncomfortable as well. They had never before discussed anything so personal, and Snape was surprised to find that she seemed to be answering him honestly despite her discomfort. "And knowing now what befell Anya and her son," Selima continued softly, "I feel guilty that I did not do more to help them. Cynric's death was a little suspicious, but I did not investigate further because your father did not want to make waves. He was involved in some delicate political maneuvering at the time, and offending a prominent family such as the Diggorys were then--though they are less so now--might have ruined his plans. And there was no evidence that Cynric's death was anything but an accident. Oh, people gossiped, as they always do, but no one really believed that a mild-mannered Hufflepuff family could have committed cold-blooded murder." Selima sighed. "But I should have tried harder to stay in touch with Anya. She had a nervous breakdown after Cynric died, and it did not seem strange that she should go into seclusion. I wrote to her, but she said she wished to be left alone. I let her be, thinking that she would heal with time, and I was busy with my own life--Severin's career and your education--and before I knew it, three years had passed, and Anya was dead." She looked up, and Snape could see that her black eyes were filled with guilt. "But perhaps things would have turned out differently if I had gone to the Gravenor estate and demanded to see her."

Snape was very familiar with that kind of guilt, of course. Despite his resentment, he felt a twinge of sympathy for his mother. "And perhaps not," he said. "The Gravenors probably would have turned you away, saying that she was too ill to see anyone. And perhaps they would have arranged an accident to befall Anya and Lukas soon afterwards."

"Perhaps," Selima said, "but that does not change the fact that I made no effort to help my dearest friend. That is why I am trying so hard to help Cyril now--not so much for his sake, but for hers."

Loyalty to a friend was an admirable motive, but it still hurt that his mother had gone to such lengths to help someone else's son and not her own. This was ridiculous; he was an adult, a jaded former Death Eater, no longer a child. He had told Lupin many times that he did not care what his parents thought of him, but Lupin had known all along that he was lying, even if he had not realized it himself up until now. Snape felt rather relieved that Lupin was not here to say, "I told you so"--in the gentlest, kindest way possible, of course. It was un-Gryffindorish to gloat.

Again, his mother seemed to guess at least some of what he was thinking; Snape wondered sourly if Lady Selima might be a Legilimens herself. She met his eyes unflinchingly; her gaze was steady and solemn. "I know that I was not a very good mother to you, Severus," she said in a quiet but even voice. "At least, I was not the kind of mother that Anya was to Cyril." She hesitated, looking a little uncertain of herself, but she did not look away. "I did not know how to be," she finally said.

"Because Anya loved her husband and son," Snape said, a little bitterly, leaving unspoken the words that Selima had not. But he could not help but wonder what kind of parent he would have been to Dylan and Theodore without Lupin's example to follow.

"I did not love your father," Selima said. "But I swore to honor and obey him, and I have never broken those vows. I did my best to be a good wife and mother; the two were, perhaps, not always compatible." Snape did not know how to reply to that, and remained silent. "But I did my best by you, Severus, even if you feel it was not enough. I educated you as befit a pureblood heir. I taught you what I thought you needed to know in order to survive and advance in society. I tried to keep the peace between you and your father, though obviously I failed miserably at that."

"Yes, Mother," Snape said, his voice still bitter, "you were always most attentive to your duty."

"Yes, Severus," Selima retorted, a spark of anger flaring in her eyes, "I was. I did my duty to my family and my husband regardless of whether or not it conflicted with my own desires, and not once did anyone ever ask me what I wanted!"

Snape was a little taken aback by her response. "Do you regret it, then, Mother?" he asked, in a less hostile voice, genuinely curious to know the answer. "If you could do it over again, would you marry instead one of those young and handsome suitors you once mentioned?"

Selima's anger died down as quickly as it had erupted, and she leaned back in her chair, sighing wearily. "I don't know, Severus. What point is there in wondering 'what if' when the past cannot be changed? Most of those handsome young men never amounted to much, anyway, and they are no longer so young and handsome." She gave him a smile that held a great deal of irony and not much humor. "And besides, if I had not married your father, you would not exist."

Snape laughed harshly. "Then should I be grateful to you, Mother?"

"Why start now?" Selima said, still with that ironic twist to her lips. "Regardless of what your idealistic Gryffindor werewolf might wish for, I do not expect any maudlin declarations of gratitude or forgiveness, save in a bad novel, of which I suspect Lupin has read too many." Snape laughed again, a little more sincerely. In a more serious voice, Selima said, "You may hate me if you wish, Severus. So long as the Snape line continues, I will not complain."

{Do I hate her?} Snape wondered, and the answer was both yes and no. He still resented her coldness to him as a child, and the way she had failed to protect him from his father, but on the other hand, he knew that Lupin was probably right when he said that Selima had only been behaving as her own family had taught her to. All the Bashirs, save for Ali, were a cold and unpleasant lot--not the type to spoil or indulge their children. A loving mother like Anya Diggory was probably more the exception than the rule in the Slytherin elite, at least among Selima's generation. And, as long as he was being honest with himself, he had to admit that Selima's marriage to Severin had probably not exactly been a picnic, either. He could feel a grudging admiration for Selima's loyalty to a husband she had not wanted to marry and had not loved. Still, Snape could not quite bring himself to forgive her.

Selima tilted her head to one side, giving him a thoughtful look. "You know, Severus, you are the Snape Lord now. You could forbid me to use the Snape funds to help Cyril. You could even cast me out of the manor if you wished." Her voice was not hostile, but cool, almost conversational, with just a hint of curiosity, as if she were trying to figure out why he hadn't already.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Mother, there's no need to be so melodramatic!" Snape snapped indignantly. As much as he hated his mother, the thought of using his new position as Lord against her had never crossed his mind. "Besides," he added gruffly, "do you honestly think that the werewolf would just let me throw you out on the street?"

The corners of Selima's mouth slowly curved upwards, as if against her will, into a genuine smile. "No, I don't," she agreed. "Professor Lupin suffers from the Gryffindor flaw of softheartedness."

"I don't understand, Mother," Snape said, feeling perplexed, amused, and irritated all at the same time, "why you and Lupin seem to be getting along so well these days. Have you developed a sudden inexplicable fondness for werewolves?"

"Hardly, Severus," Selima replied in a dry voice. "But you have, and so has my new grandson. I'm not a fool, Severus; I know that quarreling with Lupin will only turn Theodore against me, and I don't wish to lose another heir."

"And you aren't worried about antagonizing me?" Snape asked sardonically.

"It's a little late for that, don't you think, Severus?" Selima replied in the same tone of voice. Snape could not help but laugh, a sharp, hoarse sound that sounded almost like Bane's cawing. "If I can put up with Priscilla Parkinson's constant catty remarks, I can certainly put up with the werewolf."

Snape laughed again. "Lupin is certainly much less annoying than Priscilla."

Selima pursed her lips sourly for a moment, looking as if she agreed with him but didn't want to admit it. "I don't like it, but I am willing to cooperate with Professor Lupin in order to ensure the Snape succession. As for Cyril--well, it was a bit shocking to find out that my friend's son was a werewolf, but I still wish to help him for her sake. And besides, I confess that I wouldn't mind seeing Amos suffer the humiliation not only of having the secret he worked so hard to conceal be revealed, but of having his position usurped by a werewolf."

If Amos Diggory were less obnoxious, Snape might have felt sorry for him. Selima Snape was a dangerous enemy to make; Snape had always hated his mother's endless lessons in etiquette as a child, but he had to admit that she was a master of the art of social manipulation. In the world of the pureblood elite, a single malicious rumor whispered into the right ear could prove more damaging than an Unforgivable Curse, and shatter one's reputation and career, which was why the Slytherins always worked so hard to ingratiate themselves with the right people. "You have my authorization," Snape said, "if you feel you need it, to spend as much as you please on your campaign to regain Bleddri's inheritance. It will please Lupin, since Bleddri is his friend, and I wouldn't mind seeing Amos get what's coming to him." Snape smirked; it was a nice little twist of irony: after Lupin's lycanthropy had been revealed (which, admittedly was Snape's fault), Amos had been one of the parents who had sent letters to the Headmaster demanding that the werewolf be fired. So it was only appropriate that he was in danger of losing the family estate and title to another werewolf.

Selima smiled back at him and said, "Thank you, Severus." She hesitated for a moment before asking, "Do we have a truce, then?"

Snape hesitated himself, unsure of what he wanted. He was still not ready to forgive her, and more than three decades of hatred and resentment could not be erased in one afternoon. But the thought of continuing to carry on their long-standing feud was no longer appealing, either. And although bitter words had been exchanged, today was the first time Snape and his mother had ever had a real conversation as adults and equals, instead of Lady Snape merely lecturing or berating the recalcitrant Snape heir. It had been a novel experience, though awkward at times, and maybe...just maybe...he wouldn't mind repeating it in the future.

"What happened in the past cannot be undone, Mother," he finally said. "I'm not like the werewolf; I can't just forgive and forget."

"I understand, Severus," Selima said, sounding resigned and--was is it just his imagination?--possibly a little disappointed as well.

"I'm not finished," Snape said irritably; getting the words out wasn't easy, which was making him grumpy. "You are, as you pointed out, not the kind of mother Anya Diggory was, and quite frankly, I'm a little too old to want a mother fussing over me the way Narcissa does Draco, anyway. We can't change the past, but..." He took a deep breath. "Perhaps, for the future, we can start over with a clean slate." His mother looked stunned, and he added in a gruff voice, "As Lupin is constantly reminding me, we need to get along for Theodore's sake. I'm still not sure that it was a wise decision to bring him into this family, but what's done is done; he is the Snape heir. So...a truce, for my son's sake."

"For Theodore's sake," Selima echoed softly, still looking stunned.

"But this is a conditional truce," Snape warned, his voice turning steely. "Theodore has already endured one set of abusive and neglectful parents. I will not allow anyone to harm him again--not physically, magically, or even verbally. Not for the sake of pureblood pride and propriety, or even for the sake of his inheritance."

"Agreed," Selima said without hesitation, inclining her head slightly. It was unusual for his mother to give in to a demand so readily, but perhaps her merchant's instincts told her that there was no room for negotiation here. "On my word as a Snape."

That made Snape feel a little better. His mother might be a scheming, conniving social climber, in typical Slytherin fashion, but she also had a sense of honor--although a Gryffindor would probably find it confusing and convoluted--and always kept her word. Which was probably why she didn't give it very often. After an awkward silence, Snape cleared his throat and rose to his feet, saying, "Well, I'd better go meet Lupin and the boys before they wonder what happened to me."

"You can charge Dylan's broom to the Snape account," Selima said, then smiled wryly. "Well, I suppose you don't need my permission for that--Lord Snape."

"No, I don't," Snape said, but without any sting to his words. "But I'm sure that Dylan and Lupin will appreciate the thought."

"Oh, don't tell the werewolf that!" Selima protested, looking horrified. "It will only encourage his ridiculously idealistic and sappy notion that everyone has some good in them. Only a Gryffindor could be so trite."

"I'm not sure that it's really a Gryffindor notion," Snape mused, smiling a little. "Most Gryffindors believe in Good and Evil, with capital letters, usually casting the Slytherins in the latter role and themselves in the former. I think it might just be Lupin."

"An idealistic werewolf," Selima muttered, shaking her head. "What is the world coming to?" Then in a brisk voice, she said, "Well, you had best go on, Severus, before he comes looking for you."

Snape walked over to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, but paused before going through. "By the way..."

"Yes, Severus?"

Without turning around, his back still facing towards his mother, Snape said, "What you said about not being like Anya Diggory...maybe that's not an entirely bad thing. She was too caught up in her own grief to protect her son. Bleddri said that she died of pneumonia, but in essence it was suicide, wasn't it? She gave up and left her son to fend for himself."

"Don't judge her so harshly, Severus," Selima said, sounding both pleased and offended at the same time. "What would you do if something happened to Professor Lupin?"

Snape whirled around to face her, the very thought awakening a sense of panic and despair in him. His heart was pounding rapidly, and he had to take a few deep breaths to steady himself, reminding himself that Lupin was fine, and the question was merely hypothetical. "I would want to kill myself," he said harshly. "But I wouldn't, so long as Theodore and Dylan still needed me. They were both orphaned once; I wouldn't leave them alone again."

There was something that looked very much like respect in his mother's black eyes. "Yes," Selima said softly, "you would not have survived living as a spy among the Death Eaters for so many years if you were weak. Strength and stubbornness are Snape traits. Over the years people have called us cold-hearted, ruthless, even evil--but never weak."

Snape grudgingly admitted to himself that his mother shared those traits, too, even if she was only a Snape by marriage, not blood. For the first time, he realized that it must have taken strength to go into a marriage with a stranger twice her age without, as Lupin put it, having her spirit broken. Many other pureblood women in unhappy marriages frittered their time away with gossip and alcohol and clandestine affairs, but Selima had managed to win her new husband's respect, and in a very short time, make herself an influential person in pureblood society in her own right. When the Snape family's fortunes fell, it must have taken strength--and a good deal of stubbornness--not to give up, as even Severin had. She had endured the sneering faces and malicious whispers of her peers, and continued working to restore her family's place in society. Even after sixteen years, even after the news that her son had taken up with a werewolf, she still had not given up, and finally succeeded in dragging the reluctant heir back home. Being the reluctant heir, Snape was not entirely happy about this, but he still had to admire her perseverance. And if his mother had not forced him to come home, Theodore would not be his son now, and would probably still be secretly envying Dylan and feeling second-best. He supposed he should be grateful to his mother, if only for that.

"Yes," Snape agreed, "all the Snapes are strong--and stubborn," stressing the word "all" slightly. He turned back to the fireplace and raised his hand.

"Oh, and Severus?"

Snape sighed. "Yes, Mother?"

Selima hesitated, then said, "Never mind. Go on, Professor Lupin and the boys must be getting worried about you."

Snape snorted. "The boys, maybe. Lupin's probably overjoyed; he's no doubt envisioning some sort of heartwarming reconciliation scene."

"Then go, and disabuse him of that notion," Selima said, and Snape laughed. "Bring the boys back for tea again soon."

"Yes, Mother."

"And Christmas is coming up next month--you'll spend the holidays here, won't you?" Snape hesitated, and Selima added impatiently, "All four of you, of course."

"I'll have to talk it over with Lupin," Snape hedged. He supposed they would have to spend Christmas Day at Snape Manor, but he wasn't sure he wanted to spend the entire two weeks of vacation here. "Theodore will be busy studying for his N.E.W.T.s, and Dylan might want to spend some time with the Donners."

His mother wasn't going to let him off that easy. "Theodore can study here as well as anywhere else," Selima pointed out. "He can bring his books with him, and we have an excellent library." Snape began fidgeting nervously, and Selima said, "We can discuss it further the next time you come."

It was only a temporary reprieve, but Snape seized it nonetheless. Before his mother could change her mind, he threw the Floo Powder into the fireplace and said, "Diagon Alley, Quality Quidditch Supplies!"
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Selima set aside her now-cold cup of tea, and motioned for Vorcher to clear away the dishes. She had intended to say that there were things she might do over differently, given the chance, but Severus was right; the past could not be undone, so there was no point in saying "I would do this-or-that differently" when it was impossible. Talk was cheap, as the saying went, especially when it could not be backed up by action, and there was no point in taking the chance of antagonizing her son and jeopardizing their fragile truce.

Severus was right when he said that Anya had failed to protect her son, although Selima could not bring herself to scorn her old friend for that, particularly when she herself had done the same thing, in a manner of speaking, without having the excuse of being devastated by a loved one's death. Had she been wrong to stand by when Severin had punished Severus with a Cruciatus Curse? She had not thought so at the time, but maybe she had been wrong. She had told herself that she could not disobey her husband, but perhaps if she had tried, she could have persuaded him, without making it seem like she was defying his will, that a less severe form of punishment would be more effective. It had not seemed so bad at the time; her own parents had punished serious offenses with hexes, although they had never gone so far as to use an Unforgivable Curse.

But now, the thought of someone using such a curse on Theodore filled her with a strange sense of anger, and she knew that even without the promise she had made to Severus, she would never let anyone--not even Severin, if he were still alive--hurt her grandson that way. She did not know exactly when she had stopped regarding Theodore as "the substitute heir" and started thinking of him as her real grandson. Perhaps it had started on the day he had shown interest in the Snape histories and finances, as Severus never had. It had strengthened during Severin's funeral, when Theodore had kept his composure throughout the very long and trying day, being properly polite to the guests while skillfully deflecting any insults. She remembered the way he had smiled at her almost shyly when she complimented him on it. She could not change the past, but she wanted to protect Theodore now, as she had failed to protect her son. She even, to a lesser extent, wanted to protect Dylan, recalling the sudden surge of fear she had felt when she saw him fall off his broomstick at the Quidditch match.

These unfamiliar emotions scared her a little; it had been such a long time since she had let herself truly feel anything. It was all the werewolf's fault...no, that was not really fair. It was not just Lupin, but a combination of things, including Severin's death and Cyril's return, which had awakened old memories she had long ago buried in the past.

She pressed a hand to her forehead, and Vorcher asked in a concerned voice, "Is the Mistress all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Selima said, rising to her feet. "It's nothing...merely a headache. I think I will go lie down for a little while."

"Yes, Mistress," Vorcher said, still looking worried.

"Oh, and Vorcher..."

"Yes, Mistress?"

"When you're done clearing up, go up to the attic and go through the Christmas decorations."

"Mistress?" a puzzled Vorcher said.

"We haven't used them for many years. See what is still in good condition and what needs to be replaced. And you should work on preparing a menu and making up a list of the groceries that will need to be ordered to feed three, possibly four guests for two weeks over the Christmas holidays. It's not really all that far away."

"Yes, Mistress," Vorcher replied, looking excited for a moment, and then a little doubtful. "Er...did Master Severus agree to come for Christmas?"

Selima smiled confidently. "No, but he will."

"Er...yes, Mistress."

Selima went upstairs, looking more cheerful, and Vorcher shrugged and returned to work. It was not his place to worry about how the Mistress was going to force Master Severus to return home for Christmas. If she said it was so, then it was. Vorcher missed the days when the house was full of life, with many parties, and people coming and going. The house had been quiet and gloomy for many years, with only the Master and Mistress in it, and they had not bothered to put up a tree or decorations for Christmas since the Master had retired from the Ministry. Maybe now that Master Severus had returned to the family, there would be parties at Snape Manor once again, with all the important people in the wizarding world coming, as they had for the Master's funeral.

Vorcher hurriedly washed the dishes, then ran upstairs to the attic, making a list in his mind: a tree, which would have to bought fresh next month; ornaments--the Snapes had a collection of very old and expensive hand-blown glass ornaments; tinsel; candles...likely they would need to buy new tinsel and candles. And for Christmas dinner: a turkey, or perhaps roast beef? Definitely a plum pudding... Vorcher began humming Christmas carols under his breath as he bounded up the stairs.

 

Part 71