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Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Hagrid/ Snape Summary: Fate throws two vastly opposite souls, Rubeus Hagrid and Severus Snape, together. Love and new life soon follows. But will the wizarding world except them? Begins in the summer before Harry’s fifth year. Disclaimer: Sorry, don’t own them, wish I did. That great joy belongs to J.K. Rowling. I’m just borrowing them for a bit of fun. No use suing I haven’t got any money. The only things I do lay claim to are the people, places, magic, and creatures I create for this fic. Archive: Snape Mpreg Archive
***** Shakespeare- Macbeth ***** Strait from the nightmarish depths of hell the writhing black mass filled the hall with its oily tendrils; a sickening stench, like that of a rotting corpse, hung about the air, accompanied a rustling that grated harshly on the nerves. Neville scrambled backwards, scraping his hands on the rough stone tiles. He bumped hard into the wall, wide eyes never leaving the horrifying scene playing out before him. Despite the intense fear that currently gripped his soul some small analytical part of his mind said he knew this bizarre monstrosity. If only he was a little calmer he might just remember, the Professor’s life might well depend on it! *~*~*~* Clutching desperately at the walls and floor, heels digging into whatever crevice presented itself, Professor Snape fought to escape from his inhuman attacker. On his chest the mistletoe pendant burned like fire releasing layer upon layer of defensive shields but to no avail. Nothing seemed to phase the homicidal vegetation; it broke through the shields like they were made of rice paper. Stronger than steel the black vines coiled about him, immobilizing his arms and legs, keeping him from reaching his wand. Once securely in place they began to squeeze. Leaves, thick and shiny, whipped about him striking at any exposed flesh. Wherever they touched they cut, blade sharp, and stung like fire. Another vine, no thicker than his thumb, wrapped around his neck cutting off both air and voice. “INCENDIO!!” That would be Longbottom. The fire spell flashed above him, hitting its intended target, only to dissipate harmlessly against its dark shifting mass. The thing was immune to fire! *~*~*~* Tears of pain and fear blurred his vision as Neville tried to burn the evil plant again, sobbing as the spell once again broke apart upon impact. He tried stunning spells, wilting spells, even petrifying spells; nothing worked!! Even as he watched the Professor’s struggles were becoming weaker, his pale skin taking on a blue tinge as oxygen failed to pass the constricting vine about his neck. What was he to do?? “Have strength child, let me aid you,” said a strange voice just behind his shoulder, a soft silver blue glow filling the hall. “Calm,” the voice whispered in his ear and just like that he was calm. Immediately his mind latched onto the information that had been just out of reach. Neville knew now what they faced but the information did little to aid them. Nothing short of a concentrated attack from no more than six powerful wizards could even hope to take down an assassin vine. By the time he retrieved six wizards Professor Snape would be dead and buried. There was a spell, an offshoot of Latin, too old for many wizard scholars to remember much less be taught in school. He doubted he’d enough power to pull it off even if he could pronounce it correctly. *~*~*~* Through this temporary link Merlin could read the other boy’s mind, gaining the knowledge of not only what their adversary was but also how to destroy it. But the lad was right; he lacked the skill to speak the ancient dialect. Merlin himself would’ve found the task easy enough were he alive and possessed his wand or staff to refine the spell. Now such mage-craft was well beyond his reach with his limited magic and departed state. If the spell casting went wild and hit Severus it could spell death for both of them. Beneath his hands the boy shifted, firing off another spell. The boy.. Wait….the BOY! If Merlin linked with this child he could make use of the lad’s wand, mingling their magics together to defeat this black evil. *~*~*~* Another spell bounced off and by now Neville had resigned himself to seeing the Professor murdered right before his eyes. Briefly the boy wondered if this was what Harry felt at the end of the Triwizard Tournament when he returned with Cedric Diggory’s dead body. “Do not despair, all is not yet lost.” “What can I do?!! How can I stop this?!!” the boy sobbed aloud. “Merely lift up your wand, open wide your mind, let me guide the magic.” Watching Snape’s feeble movements Neville did as asked, what other choice was there? Cold hands, transparent and ghostly silver, settled upon his shoulders, slowly sinking into his flesh. Tingling warmth spread throughout his body, becoming stronger and stronger till the power fairly strained against his flesh, singing like symphony along his nerves. Never in all his young life had the teen ever dreamed that such power existed much less that he himself would be wielding it. Gritting his teeth, a thin line of blood trailing down from his nose Neville raised his wand and spoke. “SARCOPH ALAT NAGOPAH!” Words unheard for a thousand years rang through the dungeon hall, conjuring up a massive cloud of blue light which immediately settled onto the life and death struggle before him. Whatever part of the plant the cloud touched immediately froze. Neville breathed a deep sigh. Caught up in his relief the boy didn’t notice the hall growing lighter till his unexpected ally moved into his direct line of sight. A ghost, the one who had given his aid in the last few desperate moments was a ghost; an old wizard dressed in ancient robes. He floated past Neville and began pulling the tangled black vine from about the Professor’s neck. What? He was touching the vines? How was the possible? Ghosts were incorporeal creatures incapable of making true physical contact with the living world. “Hurry lad least the thing awaken!” “Y..you mean it’s not dead??!!” The teen squeaked. “It cannot be slain till Severus is removed from its foul embrace!” The ghostly wizard yanked the vine free. “Free his arm!” Behind them the bulk of the killer plant shifted slightly. That tiny movement was enough to spur the boy out of his momentary stupor. Neville fought his nausea at touching the things, the vines were every bit as slimy and disgusting as they looked. Together boy and spirit untangled the prone man till they were able to drag him to safety. “Swiftly lad, your wand!” Down the hall the murderous plant was reviving, tendrils sluggishly searching for its missing prey. At any moment it could completely awaken and attack once more. Drawing his wand Neville felt the power surge through him once more. The magic was stronger this time but flowed more easily. The words were sharp and strange, a spell not voiced upon the earth for 800 years. “MURIAT EX ILLE OCEANUS ANIMIUSCA!” ** The sharp tang of the ocean filled the air as salt water materialized, swirling rapidly about his feet. “IRA EX ILLE CAALUM IGNITUS!” The air sizzled, electricity crackled about his upper body, white-blue death. “ADFLIGERE HIC MALUSCA!!!!” The resulting surge of magic sent Neville to his knees. Up leapt the water, lighting coiling about the blue column, and together they struck the vile thing. An earsplitting scream rent the air, a horrible inhuman wail that shook the souls of the living and dead alike, as the spell worked its castor’s will. Before the young wizard’s astonished eyes the thing was decomposing, rotting away into a putrid puddle of bubbling black goo. The stench was appalling, even worse than when it was alive, and Neville staggered back quickly rasping out a containment spell least the scent fill the entire hall and suffocate them both. Free now from the plant’s threat Neville’s attention was drawn back to his teacher. Professor Snape was sheet white and sweating, his breath coming in rasping little pants. Several deep cuts marred his skin, the wounds a sickly shade of reddish green. Without waiting for aid the ghost scooped the wounded wizard up into his arms and sped back the way they came, with Neville hot on his transparent heels a moment later. It seemed like it was an eternity before they stopped before an ornate portrait of a thin wizard dressed in deep greens and blacks. “By the Ancients! What happened to him?” The painting asked. “Salazar open! He needs healing!!” The ghost’s sharp words brought immediate action. The portrait swung open, allowing the small group entrance. Neville stopped just inside the doorway, jumping slightly as the portrait swung shut behind him. “Oh Merlin..” he breathed in shock and no little amount of fear. He was in Professor Snape’s personal quarters, the very den of the Black Snake of Slytherin. It wasn’t exactly how he and the others pictured it. Lacking the numerous implements of torture hanging on the walls it was surprisingly warm and inviting. Rich mahogany furniture, deep plush carpets, decorative wall hangings and portraits, and row upon row of shelves filled with books, statues, and of course potion bottles. “Wow.” Meanwhile Merlin had laid Severus on his bed and made all haste to summon help. Hagrid was already on his way, the half giant alerted to his mate’s danger by their bond and the pendants magic. But Snape required more than a husband’s love and concern. He desperately needed medical attention. Poppy was out of the question, as were the fools in Hogsmeade. There was only one healer that the ancient wizard would trust the younger one’s life to and he set about summoning him. With a simple hand flick the fireplace roared to life. In he tossed a scoop of floo powder. “Lockhart Manor, Giles’ study!!” Thankfully the kindly old doctor’s face appeared in the green flames almost immediately. “Yes?” He peered curiously at his ghostly caller. “May I help you?” “Gather up your bag healer! Come to Professor Snape’s private chambers immediately! He’s been attacked!!” Before the last words left his mouth the healer disappeared from view only to appear again moments later. “Move out of the way!!” Merlin was only too happy to oblige as the healer stumbled out of the fireplace. Without bothering to brush away the soot Dr. Lockhart made directly for the bed and his unconscious patient. “What happened?” Giles snapped. As the healer checked over his patient the ghost and the nervous young student who edged slowly into the bedroom told of the attack in the dark corridor. “Assassin vine? Are you sure?” “Yes, I recognized it from one of the old Herbology books my Gran bought me.” “The poison, is it an alkaloid?” The boy shook his head. “No.” “Well, have to be thankful for that. I can purge the poison but I’ll need help. Could one of you call my grandson? Tell the boy to bring Horatio with him.” Giles began removing his outer robe, rolling up his sleeves in preparation. Professor Lockhart responded immediately to Neville’s hasty called as quickly as the elder Lockhart did, nearly falling as he exited the fireplace, the cloth wrapped crystal skull tucked securely under one arm. “Oh Circe! What happened?” “I need your help Gideon.” “Tell me what to do Grandpa.” “Good lad. Now here’s what needs to be done…” Neville couldn’t hear what the two wizards were talking about. He was just about to edge forwards when the Ghost’s hand fell upon his shoulder again. “Come lad; leave the healers to their task.” Reluctantly the boy allowed his strange companion to lead him out into the main room, closing the door to allow the two Lockharts to concentrate without distraction. Lucky for them the door was shut. Hagrid’s entrance wasn’t exactly a quiet one. Even the ghost was startled when the portrait swung open and Hagrid came racing in. Seeing a man of Hagrid’s stature and power running was a little frightening. Neville would swear he felt the floor beneath his feet shaking under the half giant’s pounding boots. “Where ‘s he?!! What’s happened??” Hagrid boomed, head swinging about, desperately searching for his husband. “Calm yourself Hagrid. Doctor Lockhart and his grandson are attending to young Severus. Leave them to their work.” Hagrid wasn’t so easily stopped. All he could think about was the intense fear and pain he’d felt from Severus. His husband needed him! Their child needed him! The ghost’s words didn’t really register on his mind, only Severus mattered, only Severus’ confused mental voice echoing in his heart and soul. Merlin sighed and cast a small calming spell, just strong enough to halt the man in his tracks. Hagrid blinked, swaying slightly, as the spell took hold. “Wha..who are yeh?” “I am Merlin.” Thud. Thud. “Young people.” Merlin shook his head sadly as he stared down at the two fainted wizards. *~*~*~* Wood cracked and splintered beneath Dumbledore’s body as he slammed down onto the old table’s top. “How could you let this happen?!!” The angry voice hissed from with the deep concealing hood. “All we’ve worked for is in jeopardy thanks to your bungling!” Magic wrapped around the white-bearded wizard’s limp form, smashing him against the ceiling before bringing him down onto the table’s broken remains. Albus cried out sharply as several jagged pieces impaled his shoulder and upper arm, feeling ribs crack further under the brutal impact. “Stop this!” Flamel rose from his seat growling. “Leave him be!” But the third wizard would not be reigned in so easily. Like a puppet in the hands of a madman Dumbledore was lifted up and hurled violently against the stone wall. Held there by his tormentor’s will Albus coughed weakly, blood flecking his lips, staining his normally pristine beard and robes. “ENOUGH!!” Roared the ancient wizard, his power washing over the younger one, canceling out his spells. Freed from his assailant’s attack Dumbledore toppled once more, striking the floor hard where he lay moaning faintly. “You go too far Le Fey, remember your place.” Nicholas stood mere inches from the angry robed wizard. “If there is to be punishments dealt out I shall be the one to cast it, not you.” “Decades of work, of planning and manipulating, are in ashes because of his stupidity!” He hissed. “Doesn’t that justify punishing him?’ “We each knew that unforeseen events might hinder our plans from time to time but there are alternate plans we can implement. Such torture is not required. Now stand down.” Flamel took a step forwards, the air about him crackling with summative power. Le Fey didn’t back down, he held his ground. Flamel knew this day would eventually come. For a moment the two faced each other, unseen powers warping and twisting about them, vying for dominance. Someone had to give. Sweat beaded Le Fey’s brow. No matter how much power he summoned it wasn’t enough to cow this opponent. Flamel had centuries to perfect his magic, to hone his power to its fullest potential. Even if he was the one who possessed the greater magic Flamel’s total control and extensive knowledge more than made up for his lacks. Nicholas gave a grim smile of satisfaction when Le Fey backed down. Momentarily forgotten by his fellows Albus struggled to raise enough power for a healing spell. Even a minor numbing spell would be greatly welcomed right now. It wasn’t uncommon for Le Fey to lash out such. As the great-grandson of Morgana Le Fey his blood, and his temper, ran as hot and powerful as his ancestor’s. Normally though it was some poor wretch, be they muggle or wizard born, that suffered his wrath. This was the first time Dumbledore had been on the receiving end of the other wizard’s rage and he didn’t like it. The upstart really should remember who he was dealing with. Time for a little…reminder. Le Fey gasped as the spell hit, body twisting in an attempt to escape its power. Fire burned through his limbs, licked at his organs, laid waste to his magical core. He tumbled to the ground, writhing about as his screams rent the air. Flamel shook his head; young people. A simple Finite Incantatem put an end to Dumbledore’s spell. “Stop this petty bickering at once. We have more important matters to deal with than your animosity towards each other.” He spat, casting healing spells over both the prone wizards before casually returning to his seat. *~*~*~* Hagrid sat silently by his husband’s bedside, one large hand slowly stroking his soft raven locks. “He’ll sleep most of the day I expect.” Giles’ soft voice reached the half giant’s ears easily. “Thank Merlin the baby’s magic protected it from the poison.” “You are welcome.” The apparition floating nearby smirked. Dr. Lockhart shook his head in awe and lingering shock. It was going to take some getting used to; talking to the legendary Merlin himself. At least he hadn’t fainted, something which the spectral wizard was rather pleased about. Gideon didn’t either and he got the impression Merlin wished he had. If Gideon hadn’t been so damned tired he’d have worn the deceased wizard out with his endless stream of questions. This was one case definitely worth writing down in his journal tonight, or was it morning? He’d been working so hard on saving Severus’ life and that of his child the old healer had totally lost track of time. Giles glanced over at his grandson who was currently curled up on the sofa asleep. Gideon had certainly proven himself last night. Using Horatio the younger Lockhart had fed a stable stream of energy to his Grandfather while at the same time monitoring Severus’ condition. With the lad’s support Giles was able to work without stopping, purging the vile weed’s poison from Snape’s unmoving form. He’d even assisted the older wizard with some particularly stubborn muscle groups where the poison had sunk in deeper than elsewhere. As he pulled the afghan up higher onto Gideon’s shoulders Giles made a mental note to talk to the lad about further training once the school term was over; he’d make a damn fine assistant with a little more work. The young student, Neville he believed Hagrid had called the lad, sat a tray filled with tea and cookies on the coffee table. The boy had refused to leave last night and until just recently had been sharing the sofa with his grandchild. “Thank you Neville that was very kind of you.” He said as he almost inhaled a cookie, his favorite chocolate chip, before taking a sip of the hot brew. “You’re welcome Sir.” “Longbottom, that’s your last name?” the boy nodded. “I knew a Longbottom, rather nice young lad who’d just started his Auror training. Frank I believe was his name.” “That’s my Dad’s name.” “Ah, that’s good to know. You come a fine line of wizards Neville. How is Frank by the way?” Now Neville looked down at his shoes and shifted about. “He’s in St. Mungo’s, mum’s there too. Death Eater attack when I was very little.” “Tortured?” Neville nodded. “Cruciatus?” Another nod. “Damn that miserable little codsucker! If I ever get my hands on Voldemort I’m going to castrate him, from the inside out!!” His fist hit the chair’s armrest with surprising force considering how weak he felt. Even with Gideon’s help Giles felt drained. Not physically, but mentally. Keeping such intense concentration over a long period of time was very taxing on the mind. “Sir, can I go now? My roommates will be wondering where I’ve been all this time.” He glanced over at the old grandfather clock, noting that breakfast should just be starting in the Great Hall above. “Good Heavens is it really that time? Yes, yes, go right ahead my lad. If you want to check in later on the Professor you’re quite welcome to do so, I’ll be staying here for a while until I’m satisfied Severus is fine.” He shooed the teen through the portrait, watching him disappear quickly up the stone stairs. *~*~*~* The Great Hall was all abuzz as students and staff alike discussed the latest edition of the Daily Prophet. At the Gryffindor table Harry was jubilantly accepting everyone’s congratulations on the imminent clearing of his Godfather’s name. Ron was puffed up like a toad as he was pounded on the back and complimented on his family’s rise in status. Both the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables were of course elated at the correction to this long standing travesty of justice and looked forwards to seeing what the new Minister would do about the magical world’s current problems. Among the assembled staff the mood was incredibly light. Chatting and laughing the witches and wizards felt as if a great weight had been lifted from their hearts. Pettigrew’s capture signaled so much more than just an innocent man’s freedom. It was a great stride forwards in the upcoming war against the Dark Lord. Peter was Voldemort’s personal servant, privy to many of the demented wizard’s plans. He knew the identities of many, if not all, of his fellow Death Eaters. The information stored in that balding head could cripple everything Voldemort was working on. And of course one couldn’t forget the bonus the rat’s capture had provided. Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, had been discovered to be a servant of Lord Voldemort. In order to cover his ass and perhaps improve his position within the Dark Lord’s circle Fudge had attempted to have Pettigrew Kissed before the man could be fully interrogated. The Aurors on duty, along with the recalled Albastor Moody, drove off the Dementors and immediately arrested the Minister. Upon questioning under veritaserum by an assembled group of Ministry officials and Aurors were horrified to discover Fudge had allied himself with Voldemort before the wizard’s first fall. Concerned only for himself and for his position Cornelius had offered his services to Voldemort in hopes of becoming Minister after the dark wizard took power. He hadn’t been marked as the Death Eaters had been; the dreaded skull and serpent had been branded onto Fudge’s inner thigh where it wasn’t easily seen. After the Dark Lord’s fall he’d retained his connections with the other Death Eaters and once Voldemort returned he’d eagerly rejoined. Cornelius Fudge was immediately removed from office and Arthur Weasley appointed in his place. A full investigation was launched as Arthur began the necessary task of clearing the Ministry of all who failed to prove their loyalty by passing the veritaserum test. Naturally of course Lucius Malfoy and his wife went on an ‘extended vacation’ in Europe as soon as word reached him of Pettigrew’s capture and no one could locate them. The Weasley patriarch fumed at Malfoy’s escape but at the moment he was too busy securing the Ministry to hunt the elder Malfoy down. Tomorrow Arthur would publicly announce Sirius Black’s full pardon, make apologies for his unjust imprisonment, and offer restitution as compensation for his pain, suffering, and loss of material goods. Down on the floor Snuffles was sprawled out in blissful exhaustion. When the news reached Hogwarts last night the now proven innocent man had spent the night celebrating with his dear friend Remus, his Godson, and Harry’s friends. He’d managed to get quite inebriated and even though his hangover was terrible Sirius didn’t regret a single drink. No matter how much his head felt like it was about to split open Black was too elated to let mere pain bring him down. Neville slipped into the Hall, surprised at the level of noise and movement. “What’s going on?” He asked Seamus as he sat down. “Neville! Where you been mate? Spend the night with some sweet little bird? Never mind, just read this!!” The other boy pushed the morning’s paper into his hands before turning back to Dean. It only took reading the boldly printed headlines to see just what had the entire school in such an uproar. As he read through the article Neville’s mind was filled with a single thought; how thankful he was that the Daily Prophet had conveniently distracted everyone from asking where he’d been the previous night. *~*~*~* Not everyone was celebrating in the Great Hall. Albus Dumbledore had noticed the three empty seats at the staff table and decided to investigate. Professor Lockhart wasn’t in his tower quarters. Hagrid’s hut was dark and the fire long banked. That left only Professor Snape down in his dreary dungeon rooms to check on. Albus expected to find Rubeus in the Potion Master’s quarters; they were married after all, but where was Lockhart? The young man wasn’t in any of his usual school haunts, nor had he left the school’s grounds for Hogsmeade. Surely he wasn’t with Hagrid and Severus was he? Whatever would the man have in common with those two? The minute his foot hit the bottom step Albus felt it; someone had wielded a great deal of power down here over the last ten hours, far more than was normally cast. Aggressive magic; it was an attack of some kind. Perhaps an assassination attempt; there were a great many people who hated the Potions Professor, both in and outside of the school. The dungeons were the most heavily shielded area in the whole castle save for his and Severus’ quarters. That was one of the reasons why Potions were taught down here; the walls could handle some volatile potion getting out of hand and exploding. Of course Snape hadn’t been content to accept those wards and spells as enough protection for his personal quarters. The younger wizard had worked diligently at laying ward after ward on his quarters, work areas, and storerooms. If he had to breech those barriers Dumbledore would have hours of tedious work ahead of him. As he drew closer to the Potions Master’s door the hairs in Albus’ beard and mane began to tingle there was some much magic floating in the air. Whatever had happened down here last night had been very intense. If he hadn’t been so involved with that meeting last night he might’ve felt it in time to investigate. Albus hated not knowing what was going on in his school, unknown factors tended to complicate things. The portrait eyed the old wizard critically, a slight sneer played across his face. “What do you want?” How Albus hated this painting and the portrait of Salazar Slytherin made no attempts to hide his own loathing of the Headmaster. Time and time again he’d tried to get Severus to remove the dammed painting and replace it with something a bit more respectful. But the black-clad man wouldn’t hear of it; Salazar would remain guarding his door until Snape was removed from his position. “I wish to speak to Severus.” “And people in hell wish for ice but that doesn’t mean they’re going to receive it.” Salazar crossed his arms, robes swirling about his lean frame. Gritting his teeth Albus forced himself to calm down before he hexed the infuriating thing. “Tell Severus I want to speak to him, now.” Salazar growled and reluctantly stepped out of his frame leaving Dumbledore to stand alone in the dim hallway. *~*~*~* “Doctor Lockhart. The Headmaster is outside; he wishes to speak to Professor Snape.” The Slytherin founder informed to old healer. “Damn,” Giles immediately woke his grandson. “Keep watch on Severus and Rubeus, whatever you hear don’t open the door.” “Right.” Gideon pulled his wand, ready to ward the door the minute his grandfather closed it. “I will shield this room as well. Severus and his family shall be safe.” Merlin’s ghostly visage promised. Ensured that his patient was safe for the moment Gideon pulled his outer robe back on and adjusted his emerald clasp, fingers lingering a bit, stroking the green stone’s smooth surface. He hoped his impulse to wear the heirloom when he dressed yesterday morning was just a random thought and not a minor premonition. Twitching his cuffs into place Gideon motioned for the portrait to let Dumbledore in. *~*~*~* Albus ignored the painting’s dark glare as he strode past into Professor Snape’s quarters. He contented himself with the fact the damn thing would be the first to go once Severus was no longer useful. He’d drag it outside; throw it on a trash heap, and sit back to enjoy the screams as it burned to ashes in a magically lighted bonfire. However it was not the familiar pale and stern face of Severus Snape that awaited him but an old gray- haired wizard with gray robes standing there before the glowing fireplace. Giles faced the other wizard, one hand never straying far from his concealed wand. Dumbledore kept his face in his carefully constructed genial mask. “I don’t believe we’ve met Sir.” Albus stepped forwards to get a closer look. “I am Albus Dumbledore Headmaster of Hogwarts.” “Doctor Giles Lockhart. I’m Professor Snape’s personal physician.” “Personal physician? Why would Severus require a personal physician? Madame Pomfrey is quite capable of handling the medical requirements of everyone here; students and staff alike.” “Professor Snape’s condition falls outside of Madame Pomfrey’s realm of knowledge,” The gray-robed wizard moved in tandem with his flamboyantly garbed adversary, always keeping between him and the Professor’s bedroom door. “It requires a far greater degree of skill that she is capable of.” “Indeed.” Albus noticed the other wizard’s silent maneuvers. So the man sought to bar his access to Snape did he? If he were a more impatient man Dumbledore would simply have hexed the other wizard and entered Severus’ bedchambers over his unconscious body. But the old wizard bided his time; he needed to get the feel of this new opponent before he began throwing magic around. “What brings you down to the dungeons today Headmaster?” “Ah, I only wished to see how Severus is faring. I believe he was attacked some time last night?” Giles’ face didn’t so much as twitch. There it was, Dumbledore knew already something bad had happened, and next the Headmaster would be interested in visiting Snape while he was still bedridden. “Yes, there was an attack. Someone set a nasty trap; it was a close one for Severus.” “Perhaps I could speak to him a moment, just to reassure myself he is all right.” Giles merely shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. Severus is currently sleeping and as his physician I refuse to wake him.” “I won’t take very long; just a few minutes are all that I require.” But again he was rebuffed. “No. The events of last night taxed my patient heavily. He is suffering from exhaustion, heavy bruising, muscle strain, and a mild form of toxic shock. Sleep is the best remedy right now.” Albus’ eyes narrowed. This man, this simple healer, was denying him?? He required information on Snape’s altercation last night, not some medical mumbo jumbo from an old healer past his prime. Perhaps he hadn’t made himself clear. Concealed by his wide robe sleeves his wand flicked out, the spell cast under his breath. He really didn’t like using the Imperious, it was so crude, but it did the trick. He’d just order the other wizard to give him access to Severus for as long as he needed. A few hours of intense questioning and Dumbledore would have all the information he required. Afterwards he may just play a bit with this Dr. Lockhart before obliviating the man, just to teach him who was the greater wizard. However, things didn’t go as planned. Lockhart stumbled backwards as the spell hit, but his eyes remain clear and focused and he slowly straitened up to glare at the brightly robed wizard. A glow about his neck drew Albus’ eyes downwards. A large emerald, set in a robe clasp, was glowing brightly. “Do you like it Professor?” Dr. Lockhart’s hand caressed the stone upon noticing the direction of his opponent’s stare. “It’s been in the family for ages now. I can’t even begin to count the number of spells it contains laid down by each succeeding generation. Protection spells; mainly ones warding against mental attacks.” Blue eyes, bereft of the usual twinkle, narrowed in anger. “It’s especially effective against Imperius.” “Really? How interesting.” The words were forced out between clenched teeth. “But I fail to see the importance of it.” “Do you really.” Dropping his casual expression the elder Lockhart stared at his opponent. “Let’s just cut to the chase shall we? Professor Snape is my patient; his continued good health is my top priority. I will do everything in my power to see that he remains in good health, even if it means taking impertinent old wizards down a peg or two.” “Are you threatening me?” “Damn right I am.” “Don’t you realize who I am?” Albus pulled himself up a little taller. “Of course I do, you're the one who got lucky and defeated Grindelwald.” Dumbledore’s cheeks held a faint red tinge, but not from embarrassment. “A great feat indeed, however you are not dealing with some deranged little twit with delusions of world domination right now. You are dealing with a healer protecting his patients and we are just as determined and savage as a mother bear protecting her cubs. Make no mistake Headmaster; you do not want to challenge me in this matter. You may not live to regret it.” For a moment there was silence between them. Albus took the time to regain his composure. He’d made one mistake already in dealing with this man; he couldn’t afford to make another. Once again the mask of the genial old wizard slipped into place and he smiled softly, trying for the slightly embarrassed look. “I believe you’ve misinterpreted the situation. I meant no harm. This situation is very distressing for me; Severus is my friend and in my deep concern I reacted badly. I apologize.” Others in the past had easily fallen under the sway of Dumbledore’s smooth tones and eloquent words laced with subtle hypnotic magics. It was one of his best weapons. “If I could just see Severus, just for a few minutes, to allay my worries.” Unfortunately Dr. Lockhart was not one of these other people. The gray-robed wizard possessed a mind and will just as, if not more, powerful as the Headmaster’s. He held fast in his stance, eyes never wavering nor losing their brilliance. “Quit wasting your breath.” “I beg your pardon?” “I have already stated you can’t see Professor Snape. I will not jeopardize my patient’s health just to satisfy your curiosity. When he is recovered enough to talk I will call you. I believe this discussion is over.” He was being dismissed?? Without even bothering to see if the other wizard agreed Dr. Lockhart actually began herding Albus towards the door. Lockhart’s hand barely touched the knob before he stopped. “Oh, and just to let you know Headmaster I will be moving into the dungeons to supervise the remainder of Professor Snape’s pregnancy. As a favor to my patient I will also be teaching his classes. Good day to you sir.” And with that he actually shoved Dumbledore through the archway. The old wizard just caught a glimpse of the Doctor’s grinning face before the portrait shut with a mighty bang. *~*~*~* It was actually two days before Severus woke up. Groggy from the potions and his injuries the first sight that welcomed him was the beaming tear streaked face of his husband. “Sev’rus!!” Hagrid sobbed, absently wiping his wet face with one sleeve. “Oh Sev! Yeh had me so worried!!!” “Rubeus?” He croaked, grimacing at the sharp sting in his dry throat. “Here now, take a sip o’ this.” One large hand cupped his head, easing it up just enough for Severus to draw a few swallows of water up from the offered straw. “That better?” “Very, thank you.” As his mind cleared further the grisly events in the dungeon hall came flooding back. Only Hagrid’s restraining grasp kept him from leaping off the bed. “The baby!! The baby!! Is it all right??!! Is it??!!” He asked in a frantic voice, black eyes wide with fright. Another set of hands, much smaller, gently eased his head around. He looked up into Giles’ soft gaze. “The baby is fine Severus, strong and healthy.” Upon hearing those words Snape slumped back down onto the pillows, nearly sobbing in relief. What few tears did escape his eyes were soon wiped away by Hagrid’s thumb. “Fine? You sure?” The healer wouldn’t lie to him would he? “Positive. Your little one’s 100 percent healthy.” Long fingers stroked his soft hair. “Which is more than I can say for you.” “What was that thing that attacked me?” Severus asked as the healer went about checking his vitals. “Assassin Vine.” “Impossible, they’ve been extinct since the late 1300’s.” “Obviously that report was a tad bit premature. Somewhere out there is a patch of the damned things. I’ve alerted a few friends in the Ministry and they’re looking into it for me.” “Have them check out all the Sprout family holdings,” Snape hissed, black orbs narrowed in carefully suppressed anger. “Rubeus here already suggested that.” “Couldn’t think o’ anyone else who’d know summat abou’ the things.” The half-giant said as he kissed Severus’ hand. “No doubt Sinestra had a hand in this, I can’t see Louise working alone.” “Aye, that was our thought as well.” Another voice, tinged with the otherworldly quality of the dead, added in. Severus’ eyes widened as the voice’s owner came into view. This ghost was new to him, in all his years here, both as student and teacher, he’d never laid eyes on this proud deceased wizard. “And who might you be?” He asked. “He an’ Neville saved yeh Sev.” His husband supplied. “Neville? I was saved by a ghost and a boy?” How was that possible? From the vague facts he remembered about his attacker they were incredibly hard to destroy. How had Neville, who wasn’t the most powerful or skilled student in school, and a ghost, incapable of using magic, rescued him from certain death? The strange spirit reached down and patted his hand. Patted his hand!! Severus felt him! He’d actually felt the ghost’s hand touch his own!! “Put your mind to rest lad, I am not like other spirits. Young Neville proved his mettle that night. I bid you to treat him kindly when next you meet him.” “I’ll remember that. Now will someone explain how I came to be here?” “Long story.” Giles pulled up a chair to sit closer to his patient. “I have time. But first I think introductions are in order.” He looked pointedly at the calm apparition. “Indeed, how rude of me. I am Merlin, Prince of Enchanters, Wizard to the court of King Arthur.” Severus blinked, and blinked again. “Great Prospero’s Balls!” “A good wizard,” Merlin mused. “But severely lacking talent in carnal matters if I recall correctly, at least so his wife spoke.” And Severus couldn’t help but laugh. *~*~*~* The knock on his bedroom door was very faint, almost timid. “Come in.” Severus called from where he lay. Six days had passed since the night of the attack and Severus had spent them in bed. Giles had been most insistent that he rest and recuperate, even going so far as spell an alarm to alert him to any escape attempts. Dr. Lockhart had graciously taken on the task of teaching Snape’s classes and from the accounts he’d received from his student helpers the man was doing wonderfully well. He’d assigned quite a number of detentions, deducted points for the least infraction, and generally done much as Severus would’ve done if he’d taught. The man was quickly developing a reputation as a stern, yet resonably fair, taskmaster. On the fourth day Giles allowed him a few visitors. Molly was the first in, eager to see how both he and the baby were. She fussed over him the whole time, and while it was embarrassing he enjoyed it, relaxing into the woman’s warm hugs. Collin had dropped by to show him the last batch of photos Severus had posed for. Fred and George asked him to study several of their latest gag formulas which Snape eagerly agreed to; he enjoyed the challenge. Filch stopped in several times, spending hours updating him on detentions while Mrs. Norris curled up besides Severus, purring in contentment as he scratched her ears. His meeting with Albus was certainly one he wouldn’t forget. The old Headmaster had uncharacteristically glared at Dr. Lockhart through the entire interview. The healer had refused to leave the two alone, insisting he remain to ensure that Dumbledore didn’t upset his patient. His presence forced Albus to refrain from pressing too strongly for answer Severus didn’t have. After nearly two hours the old wizard departed, leaving Snape with the distinct impression Albus hadn’t found out what he was fishing about for during all those questions. Severus had given a great of consideration to how he was going to handle young Mr. Longbottom. Going back to riding the boy mercilessly was out of the question; Neville’s potion skills had been steadily improving and he had saved his life. Ginny, her brothers, and Dean had all suggested bringing the boy into his support group. At first he cringed, but after having time to think on the matter it made sense. Longbottom was largely overlooked by both his fellow students and staff; he moved about virtually invisible at times, hearing and seeing things others wouldn’t. No one would suspect dear sweet Neville of spying on them, even if they caught him in the act. He was perfect. Ginny was to pass the Gryffindor boy a note at dinner tonight inviting him down to speak with him. Curiosity, concern, and Gryffindor courage would see Neville down here. And so it had. Looking very nervous, hands wringing his robes, the boy entered and slowly crossed to sit in the chair Severus pointed to. *~*~*~* Neville drew himself up and tried not to fidget as he sat besides the Potion Master’s bed. Professor Snape looked a great deal better than he had when the boy had last seen him. A healthy glow had returned to his skin and the bruises and cuts had faded almost entirely away. He lay propped up by several pillows, one hand stroking the binding of an old potions book while the other rested on his rounded stomach. It still blew his mind, the fact that Snape was pregnant and by Hagrid no less. It went against everything that those stuck on their pureblood preached about; a pureblood mated to a half giant. But oddly they fit well together once you got past the strangeness of it. “Good evening Neville.” The older wizard’s voice was very smooth when it wasn’t edged with anger or disgust. “Good evening Professor.” “Before we begin Neville I must have your solemn promise that whatever I tell you is to remain in the strictest confidence, never to leave the confines of this room. You are not to repeat anything to anyone, most especially to Potter and his two tag along shadows.” Neville was still in a state of partial shock, he didn’t know what to think about all this. Professor Snape hadn’t once yelled at him, hadn’t once insulted him. He’d used the boy’s first name. Snape was actually making a monumental effort to be…well, to be NICE! “Promise me Neville.” It may be a mistake and there might be hell to pay later but Neville was willing to take that risk, if only to satisfy his curiosity over why this man of all people would be doing this. “I promise Professor Snape, on my honor as a Gryffindor.” Snape scowled. “Not good enough. Past experience has left me with a poor opinion of Gryffindor honor. Swear on your parent’s souls.” A fine tremor passed through the young wizard’s body. “Swear on..their..souls?” “Yes. On your parent’s souls. Nothing less will do.” “I promise, on my parent’s souls, that nothing I hear or see tonight will pass beyond these walls.” Longbottom’s voice was surprisingly steady, his eyes meeting Snape’s for the first time without fear. Satisfied Severus leaned back in his chair, resting his head, eyes closed. “Thank you Neville. First of all I want to warn you that some of the things you will hear and see tonight will not be pleasant. It will very likely be quite horrifying and disgusting to the point of making you ill. If at any time it becomes too much for you to handle do not hesitate to speak up, I will stop.” Neville gulped. This was going to be bad then, really, really bad. But Professor Snape was trying so very hard to be nice. “I understand Sir.” Neville settled back down into the chair’s cushions, his silent gesture meant to inform the older wizard that he wanted to stay, to hear what he said and understood that he could leave at any time he so wished. Was he hallucinating or was that really the ghost of a smile touching the edges of those thin lips. “My family is quite old Neville, perhaps the oldest wizarding family on record. Old, powerful, and very, very rich. My Father, Setebos Snape, was the sole remaining male Snape; all others were women who’d given up both name and any rights to the fortune upon marrying. To ensure that our line didn’t die out with him Father arranged a marriage with a young witch from a good respectable family. She was beautiful, intelligent, and witty. My Father fell in love with within days. I entered the world a year and a half after the wedding.” Here again was that faint little smile and Neville found himself to be leaning forwards so as to better hear what the Professor would say next. “My earliest and most cherished memories are of him; feeding me, washing me, playing, and singing to me as he tucked me into bed. My childhood was as happy as anyone could ask for; at least it was up until the accident.” Here the man’s face fell. Gone was the smile coaxed up by fond memories, replaced by an almost blank look as he stared off into space. “Father was a potions maker, not a true Master, but still damn good with a cauldron. He worked diligently for the Ministry creating new potions to deal with the advancing threat of dark wizardry. There had always been a certain amount of dislike among him and his fellow workers. Father was a favorite with the higher and lower level staffs but not amongst his own coworkers. When the position opened for section manager Father was guaranteed to claim it and the bitter wizards plotted. To this day I still believe they had a hand in the so-called ‘accident’ which eventually caused his death.” “A miss mixed potion they said, blamed it on Father’s complete lack of concentration and poor judgment on his part in choosing and mixing the components. Father’s memories of the event were spotty so he couldn’t provide any assistance to the investigators. No one who knew my father believed such utter nonsense, but without any evidence no claims of foul play could be leveled.” “Father spent over a year lingering on the edge of death. His days were filled with putting his affairs in order, seeing to I and my Mother’s future.” “After Father passed away Mother stayed hidden within the manor for almost two years mourning. When she finally allowed her old friends to coax her out they immediately set upon matching Mother up with a ‘far more suitable’ husband. Odd how these were the very people who had once sung my Father’s praises. It was the summer before I started Hogwarts that my Mother finally married again. The house descended into hell shortly afterwards.” “My stepfather had been described as a fine man from a good family, Gryffindor, and former head boy; a much better match for my Ravenclaw mother than her deceased Slytherin husband. He seemed nice enough and doted on my Mother. It wasn’t until after they were wed and he discovered he couldn’t access any of the Snape fortune that he began showing his true colors.” A tiny voice inside Neville was urging him to call a stop to all this, before the next part was revealed. But he couldn’t stop; he had to know the rest. “I received my letter and Mother took me to gather my supplies. I was so looking forwards to going to school but reluctant as well. Who would be there to protect Mother when Antilli went on one of his drinking binges? Mother promised the servants would see to her safety and not to worry. My opinion of Gryffindors was naturally biased now and I hoped to be sorted into my Mother’s house of Ravenclaw, perhaps make some real friends. Instead I was sorted into Slytherin. I wasn’t very distraught over this as Slytherin had been my Father’s house and he had been a good man. I had no idea of the depth the animosity between Slytherin and Gryffindor ran or that I would become a prime target of that animosity. No one moved to stop it, no one even attempted to lesson it. Teachers blamed me when I was attacked or hexed. I suffered the humiliation and detentions. My housemates avoided me because I lost so many points because of the Gryffindor attacks. It wasn’t really the whole house, just four boys in particular that deemed it was their sole purpose in life to make my school years a living hell. Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin, and James Potter. Yes, young Mr. Potter’s father.” “I was everything they despised evidently. I was smaller than anyone else in my first year, not exactly pretty, far more intelligent, and most damming of all—I was Slytherin. So of course I was fair game.” “There were times their pranks went too far and I was hurt. The school nurse Madame Pomfrey despised me and rarely ever treated my wounds, preferring to see me suffer. Lucius, my only friend in Slytherin helped but I was later to learn his motives were less than pure. When the year ended and I returned home my stepfather was furious over my sorting. It took me nearly a month to recover from the beating and..other things he subjected me to.” By the end of his sentence Snape’s voice had dropped almost beyond hearing but Neville did hear and wished he hadn’t. It didn’t take a great leap of imagination to guess what those ‘other things’ were. Even in wizard society there were animals that abused children in such a manner, more probably than the Ministry had on record simply because of the family’s wealth and position. “The next few years were no better, in fact they were worse. Whether it was at home or here at school, my life was unending torment. But it wasn’t until my fifth year that I lost all faith in the staff and human nature. Curiosity has always been a failing of mine and I couldn’t help but wonder where Lupin disappeared to every month. Black found out and offered to show me the way past the weeping willow. Blinded by my curiosity I agreed. It was only when I opened the door at the end of the tunnel and came face to face with a angry werewolf did I realize I had been sent there by Black to die in the beast’s jaws.” “James Potter hadn’t been part of that deadly ‘prank’. He was the one that raced down and pulled me to safety before the beast could begin feeding. As it was I was deeply clawed and bleeding badly. I knew this time Black had gone too far. He’d attempted to murder me and I hoped that maybe with his expulsion some measure of my suffering would end.” “But it wasn’t to be.” Bitter memories hardened Snape’s heart and his voice dipped harshly. “No, the Headmaster blamed me for this incident as he called it. Slytherin was stripped of house points and I was given detention and told if I ever spoke a word about what happened I would be expelled. Black barely served detention so light as it was and lost 20 points for his house. For his heroic rescue Potter earned Gryffindor 40 points thus making them 20 points farther along than they were before." Professor Snape fell silent, for a moment memories of those dark days overwhelming his emotions. He didn’t trust himself to speak right now, not without saying something he might regret. Neville couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat. He’d heard bits and pieces of the shrieking shack incident from overhearing things Harry, Hermione, and Ron said. It was frightening, really frightening, to think about all the implications Professor Snape’s tale implied. Drawing in a deep breath Snape continued on. “My summer at home that year was beyond brutal. I limped my way back to Hogwarts the next year. Black was waiting on the train, literally jumping in excitement. He’d waited all summer to rub last year’s great prank in my face. It didn’t seem to bother him that I could’ve been killed or infected, that his friend would’ve surely been terminated. All that mattered to Black was that I had been scared witless by the sight of those jaws coming at me. James and Lily tried to call him off and actually had to drag the bastard away.” “Whatever soft feelings I once had about Gryffindors were now firmly evicted. The house was full of cruel and vicious children who were too stuck upon their house’s supposed pride and nobility to notice they were exhibiting all the traits they said we Slytherins displayed.” “My final year was when the Dark Lord’s emissary approached me. They said that Voldemort would appreciate my talents, that he would never condone such cruelty as I had suffered at the hands of Gryffindors both past and present.” “No, you didn’t.” Snape met the younger man’s eyes. “Yes I did. He rolled up his left sleeve and there it was; the Dark Mark. “They offered me everything I had ever wanted in life; a place among people who accepted me, people who appreciated my talents, who wouldn’t degrade me or use me. People who would love me. Of course I accepted. “A Death Eater.” Neville cringed back in the chair, wondering frantically if he could make it to the door before Snape could curse him. “At first everything was wonderful, everything they promised it to be. Then, one night, I finally saw what I had gotten myself into. A raid was planned and Voldemort ordered me to go along. I was horrified at the carnage my supposedly ‘good friends’ wrought on the family of muggles they’d captured. When I refused to participate my companions cursed me and went back about their business which I was helplessly forced to watch. Upon our return I was thrown at Voldemort’s feet as the others reported my actions. The Dark Lord ordered that I be shown the error of my ways. Odd to think that the beatings and rapes my stepfather subjected me to I once considered horrible; they were nothing when compared to being gang raped, cursed, and beaten within in an inch of my life.” “I pretended, once I finally recovered, to have seen the light and Voldemort was satisfied. When I was certain that I was no longer being watched I returned to Hogwarts and confessed everything to Dumbledore. I knew I was headed for Azkaban, probably for the Kiss too, but it didn’t matter anymore. I just wanted the whole bloody nightmare to end.” “The Headmaster, however, had other plans. He refused to call the Dementors, saying I had to make up from mistakes. If I were to agree to become his spy among the Dark Lord’s court he would see that I wasn’t charged, even going so far as to offer me a position here teaching potions. I couldn’t believe it, but some small shred of my soul still longed to live so I accepted. I was a spy in the viper’s circle. That was my task till that night the Potters were killed and Voldemort was temporarily destroyed. When he returned at the end of the Triwizard Tournament to full physical form I returned to my life of spying. It was only a little while before I was discovered and I barely escaped with my life.” Spy, he had been a spy, as in gathering information for the good guys. Neville worked his way through his shock. Snape had been abused as a child while at school, raped by his stepfather, nearly killed by other students. And he’d been treated even worse the Death Eaters. Surly a wizard as great as Albus Dumbledore should've had seen the signs of his stepfather's abuse, would’ve found better ways for Severus Snape to redeem himself than sending him back to such brutal treatment. He must have known the Professor would be made to suffer. Didn’t he even care? And what was it with Gryffindor? Why on earth would the Headmaster think that not punishing Sirius Black was acceptable after the boy deliberately attempted to send another student to his death, and a very horrible one it would’ve been too. Neville could think of far more kinder ways to leave this world than being slaughtered by a werewolf. Little wonder the older wizard held any student from Gryffindor in such low regard. Since the first time Neville had met Albus Dumbledore he’d respected the man, now he wasn’t sure what he felt but it sure wasn’t respect. And what of the other teachers? Did they just toss Snape aside and ignore him too all because he’d been sorted into Slytherin and therefore was a lost cause. Things were becoming much clearer now for Neville. The veil of lies and masks had been lifted and the young man was finally getting a glimpse of the real man, the real Severus Snape, beneath. All Neville’s fear and anger he’d developed over the years was melting away under this onslaught of truth. In it’s wake a growing sense of admiration was threading it’s way around his mind and soul. Despite the terrible hardships of his youth; the pain, loneliness, and isolation of his life Severus Snape had bowed but never broken. The monumental effort it must have taken for Professor Snape to lay bare his past to Neville astonished, awed, and humbled the young wizard. He seriously doubted that were their positions reversed he would have possessed the courage to do what the older man had just done. “Professor Sir, why have you told me all of this?” Snape sighed, stroking the swell of his stomach. “As you can see my condition is rather delicate at the moment. Per my doctor’s orders I will no longer be allowed to teach classes till my child is born. Quite a number of my students have banded together to make this time a bit easier on me. They assist me in making certain potions, seeing that I don’t overexert myself, keep me company, and aiding me in learning how to be a good parent. They also keep watch on those students and teachers who would seek to harm I and my child because of past mistakes and old hatreds. I have been informed it would be a good idea to bring you into this group as well.” “Me? What can I do?” the boy squeaked. “Much more than you think you can Neville. There’s power in you boy, Merlin felt it, and now I feel it too. You could be a great wizard Neville if you were provided the proper training. If you wish I and Professor Lupin can tutor you to draw that power out, to wield it as is your birthright.” “You must be mistaken Professor, I can’t be a great wizard, I’m hardly more than a squib. Harry’s the one who’s going to be the great wizard.” He cast his eyes downward. “Nonsense. Your power merely sleeps, let us help awaken it. As for Mr. Potter, yes he too has great power, but it is not the same as yours.” Reaching over he pulled an old book from his nightstand and handed it to his student. “This is new your new text book if you accept our tutelage.” “If I join this group what would I have to do?” “You would aid Ginny and the others in keeping an eye on the students and teachers, passing information on any who might do I or my child ill.” “Ginny? Ginny is in on this too??” He couldn’t believe it. Ginny Weasley was one of Professor Snape’s protectors? “She, her twin brothers, and her mother as well.” “Who else?” “Several more students in Gryffindor, a smattering from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and one from Slytherin so far. Among the staff I can count Flitwick, Hooch, Wright, Hudson, Lockhart, Lupin, Filch, and Vector though they have yet to be informed of the students. Once you are part of the group Ginny and Mrs. Weasley will introduce you to them. What is your answer Neville? Will you join?” “Yes Sir, I will.” And a wonderful thing happened; Snape smiled. Not a wide beaming smile like Hagrid’s or a tight-lipped one that McGonagall sometimes sported. No, this smile was a tender lifting of the corners of his mouth, soothing the stern lines that normally marred Snape’s face making him look years younger. Seeing this miracle Neville knew he’d made the right choice, one he’d never regret, or at least he hoped he wouldn’t. Tbc ** muriat ex ille oceanus animisca
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