Cobwebs of the Past (13 - 18)
Title: Cobwebs of the Past
Team Name: The Order
Word Count: (6 x 100)
Rating: PG
Challenge: Family Visit
Characters: Hermione/Severus, Eileen Snape
Eileen’s eyes were focussed on her hands, taking the time to gather her thoughts into a coherent stream, Hermione thought.
In those quiet moments, she sensed the wards shifting, and she felt a cold, heavy sense of dismay settle in her stomach; if Severus came in now, she would never hear the end of the story.
Surreptitiously, she glanced behind her, to the left, where the hinged bookshelf to the kitchen was still partially ajar.
There in the gloomy shadows, a hint of movement caught her eye. Slowly, she raised her wand and thought with all her might, Petrificus Totalus.
sSs
The shadow stopped moving, frozen upright against the doorjamb. A slow, guilty-relieved stream of breath whistled past her teeth as she turned back to Eileen.
He was going to be so angry with her, but it would be better this way, she rationalised; now he could hear Eileen’s story firsthand, without explosive interruptions and vehement denial or blame.
“Oh, I fought back at first,” Eileen continued. “But the fighting, it used to disturb Severus, gave him nightmares -“ Her eyes were shadowed with her own nightmares, Hermione realised, “- so eventually, I stopped fighting.”
“And then?” Hermione’s voice was breathless.
sSs
Eileen glanced up now, her pain written plainly in her eyes. Hermione wondered if she would ever see such depth of emotion in her lover’s matching eyes.
“I died inside for a long while,” she admitted, closing her eyes for a moment. “I failed my son - stood back and let my brother indoctrinate him, raise him with the same prejudices, teach him the Dark Arts.
“Severus worshipped Damien and he believed all the lies my brother fed him. That his father had been a worthless Muggle, so poor that he’d killed himself … that Toby hadn’t cared for his family.”
sSs
Eileen took a wavering breath and leant forward to put her ice-cold tea on the coffee table.
She seemed to be gathering speed in her tale, and Hermione’s mind was reeling as all the details began to weave together. Where there had been gaps in her comprehension of her difficult lover, they were woven closed now with understanding.
“Damien was a cruel and demanding teacher. If Severus did not please him with his studies, he could tell him he was a worthless Snape, the son of filthy Mudblood scum. If he did well, Damien would call him the Half-Blood Prince.”
sSs
“You’ve heard of that title, I take it?” Eileen asked, glancing up at Hermione’s sound of realisation.
Hermione nodded mutely, realising that the title must have made Severus proud, that he’d worn it as a badge of honour.
Eileen sighed. “He wrote it on all of his school books - my old books. The Princes were never Pure-blood royalty, you see.
“Damien was likely recruited by Voldemort for his dubious skills … he hardly had two Knuts to rub together, mostly.”
Hermione had been wondering when the conversation would turn to Voldemort, and felt her heart begin to race almost painfully.
sSs
“It was inevitable, in the end, really,” Eileen said sadly, shrugging impossibly bony shoulders in a weary gesture of defeat.
“But when I saw that hideous mark branded on my child’s arm -” Her words were thickened by tears now; they fell from her face, leaving wet blotches on her faded robes.
Hermione reached for Eileen’s hand now - the witch’s skin was dry, like rough parchment, and her bones felt impossibly fragile under Hermione’s touch.
Hermione bit her lower lip, wondering what Severus was thinking, frozen, watching them. Would she be branded a traitor, like he’d been all those years?
Team Name: The Order
Word Count: (6 x 100)
Rating: PG
Challenge: Family Visit
Characters: Hermione/Severus, Eileen Snape
Eileen’s eyes were focussed on her hands, taking the time to gather her thoughts into a coherent stream, Hermione thought.
In those quiet moments, she sensed the wards shifting, and she felt a cold, heavy sense of dismay settle in her stomach; if Severus came in now, she would never hear the end of the story.
Surreptitiously, she glanced behind her, to the left, where the hinged bookshelf to the kitchen was still partially ajar.
There in the gloomy shadows, a hint of movement caught her eye. Slowly, she raised her wand and thought with all her might, Petrificus Totalus.
sSs
The shadow stopped moving, frozen upright against the doorjamb. A slow, guilty-relieved stream of breath whistled past her teeth as she turned back to Eileen.
He was going to be so angry with her, but it would be better this way, she rationalised; now he could hear Eileen’s story firsthand, without explosive interruptions and vehement denial or blame.
“Oh, I fought back at first,” Eileen continued. “But the fighting, it used to disturb Severus, gave him nightmares -“ Her eyes were shadowed with her own nightmares, Hermione realised, “- so eventually, I stopped fighting.”
“And then?” Hermione’s voice was breathless.
sSs
Eileen glanced up now, her pain written plainly in her eyes. Hermione wondered if she would ever see such depth of emotion in her lover’s matching eyes.
“I died inside for a long while,” she admitted, closing her eyes for a moment. “I failed my son - stood back and let my brother indoctrinate him, raise him with the same prejudices, teach him the Dark Arts.
“Severus worshipped Damien and he believed all the lies my brother fed him. That his father had been a worthless Muggle, so poor that he’d killed himself … that Toby hadn’t cared for his family.”
sSs
Eileen took a wavering breath and leant forward to put her ice-cold tea on the coffee table.
She seemed to be gathering speed in her tale, and Hermione’s mind was reeling as all the details began to weave together. Where there had been gaps in her comprehension of her difficult lover, they were woven closed now with understanding.
“Damien was a cruel and demanding teacher. If Severus did not please him with his studies, he could tell him he was a worthless Snape, the son of filthy Mudblood scum. If he did well, Damien would call him the Half-Blood Prince.”
sSs
“You’ve heard of that title, I take it?” Eileen asked, glancing up at Hermione’s sound of realisation.
Hermione nodded mutely, realising that the title must have made Severus proud, that he’d worn it as a badge of honour.
Eileen sighed. “He wrote it on all of his school books - my old books. The Princes were never Pure-blood royalty, you see.
“Damien was likely recruited by Voldemort for his dubious skills … he hardly had two Knuts to rub together, mostly.”
Hermione had been wondering when the conversation would turn to Voldemort, and felt her heart begin to race almost painfully.
sSs
“It was inevitable, in the end, really,” Eileen said sadly, shrugging impossibly bony shoulders in a weary gesture of defeat.
“But when I saw that hideous mark branded on my child’s arm -” Her words were thickened by tears now; they fell from her face, leaving wet blotches on her faded robes.
Hermione reached for Eileen’s hand now - the witch’s skin was dry, like rough parchment, and her bones felt impossibly fragile under Hermione’s touch.
Hermione bit her lower lip, wondering what Severus was thinking, frozen, watching them. Would she be branded a traitor, like he’d been all those years?