Some Semblance of Family (PG-13; Eileen Snape, original characters; 2068 words)
Title: Some Semblance of Family
Author:
iulia_linnea
Characters: Eileen Snape, original characters
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2068
Summary: Eileen returns to Prince House on familial business.
Disclaimer: This work of fan fiction is based on characters and situations created by J. K. Rowling and owned by J. K. Rowling and various publishers, including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made from (and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by) the posting of this fan work.
Author's Note: Written as a Category Two entry for the 2023 run of snapecase.
Apparating to just outside of the tree-lined drive, Eileen began counting her steps as she proceeded down it. Twenty-four hundred one steps later, she stood before her childhood home. It looked much the same as it ever had behind its mossy, flower-bedecked stone walls and menacing, over-filigreed gates. From experience, Eileen knew that the thorns twisted into the metal were as barbed as Knocker often was.
"Please tell me that this isn't a 'prodigal' situation."
Eileen stared at the scowling, ancient iron face that was the knocker. It was placed, just as it always had been, just out of reach. She'd never seen it move but knew that it did; its purpose was, she had long ago decided, to illustrate to all and sundry that they were unwelcome. Eileen had never known if she were part of the "all" or the "sundry," but the protection of her parents' privacy had never seemed to envelope her.
"Come now, I haven't got all day," Knocker insisted.
"Time is all you do have, isn't it?"
"Tell me why you're here," ordered Knocker, "or I'll summon the dogs to properly receive you."
Eileen swallowed. She had forgotten the dogs. She had to take a moment to breathe while she made herself forget some of her parents' nastier punishments. After all this time, she still couldn't abide anything even remotely canine.
"Eileen Elizabeth Eleanor Evangeline Prince, state now your business or depart if you would avoid injury."
"Snape."
Knocker hissed to hear it. "Speak not that name!"
"Why? It's mine. I'm Eileen Snape, now. You know that."
Knocker said nothing, but the gates began to creak. He was going to open them. He was going to summon the "dogs." She didn't feel ready for that, so she spoke again.
"Severus is about to turn thirteen, and-"
The creaking stopped. "So you thought to present yourself here to collect your Mudblood's 'birthright'?"
Trying not to rise to his bait, Eileen retorted, "You always were 'direct'."
"Then I shall continue in that same vein. How stupid of you! How cruel! How could you possibly believe that you, you, a traitor such as yourself, would find any sort of welcome at all at Prince House after-oh, it does not bear thinking of, and yet I must speak of it-after the vile act against-no! I can't. I won't! No, yes, I shall! After you betrayed your own blood by admixing it . . . by admixing it with that of a lesser creature?"
Even though Knocker had no need of air, he did tend to pause as if to take it during such speeches. It was obvious to Eileen that her mother had taken over the direction of Knocker's "welcomes." She wondered if that meant her father was ill.
Or dead.
Knocker pressed on, interrupting her thoughts. "Exactly what sort of welcome did you believe you'd find at Prince House if I allowed you to enter it? No, I forbid it. You shall not do it. You shall not enter my master's home!"
Disappointed to learn her father yet lived but knowing that she had to be going on with things, Eileen slid her wand hand into the relevant pocket. "You're just an animated old lump of . . . of impure metal with no true power or will of your own. It's not actually up to you what I do!"
Knocker noticed her attempted act of surreptition. "Don't trouble yourself, child. Surely you retain enough wit to remember that I am, by design, proof against all forms of wizardry?"
"Oh, Knocker," Eileen said, allowing her shoulders to slump a bit, "I do. Yes, of course I do." She tore her hair free from its loose bun in apparent distress. "What was I thinking?"
"You weren't thinking. You never think!"
Eileen shielded her gaze with her unbound hair, whispering, "Oh, but I do think."
Knocker rolled his eyes and so missed it as Eileen straightened into a more active posture.
"I think to hell with wizardry because I'm a witch!"
Zzzrrriiippp!
The dull thudding sound was proof enough for Eileen that Knocker no longer guarded the gate. Coughing through the spell smoke, she moved forward to conjure a new knocker. She added no animation to the new one, and gave it a more feminine set of features. Once it was in place, she set about singing down the household wards. She was still a Prince by blood, so she had, if not quite the right, the ability to do so.
~*~
Eileen stepped through the grand main door and into the quiet house. Her parents had always "wintered" in Majorca and never left home without their house-elves, so Eileen had known that she would find the house empty once she achieved it. That said, she hadn't thought to find herself feeling as safe as she did. Several flicks and swishes later, she realised why.
"There are no 'surprises', no traps. No alarms?"
Wandering from dusty room to dustry room, Eileen couldn't even sense the presence of any of the familial ghosts. She was alone.
"No one has lived here for months," she whispered.
"Years."
"Shit!" Eileen exclaimed, turning about in search of the speaker.
"Up here."
Eileen looked up. "Great Uncle Stephen. Where is everyone?"
She realised then that her great uncle was the only painted figure within a frame; all the others held backgrounds but no subjects, and nothing moved within them. It was almost enough to unnerve her.
"What happened here?"
"You're in no position to demand anything," her ancestor replied. "Nevertheless, I shall explain."
Eileen waited impatiently. She knew from experience that there was no rushing Great Uncle Stephen.
"I've missed you. It was nice to have someone to talk to."
"The 'political' meetings didn't fill that need for you?" snapped Eileen.
"Come now, pet, that's not how to speak to anyone-not if you want my intelligence, that is."
Eileen inhaled, held the breath, and then exhaled. "Do go on, Uncle."
"And how is your . . . new situation?"
"My husband and son are fine. My family," said Eileen defiantly, "is fine."
"You lie. If your 'family' were fine, you would not be here. That boy of yours, he must have reached his traditional majority?"
"Yes, he's about to turn thirteen, so-"
"You came for his familial sigil," interrupted Great Uncle Stephen. "Well, my dear, you've arrived too late."
Eileen lowered her wand. "What are you talking about?"
"You'll remember, I think, that your parents', er, 'important friend' was interested in meeting you?"
"Yes, Great Uncle Ste-"
"And that when you refused to do so, they threatened to disown you?"
"They threatened to dismember me."
"Indeed, but as it happens, it wasn't just your parents who were disappointed."
"But that was years ago! Are you saying that the Dark Lord-"
"Don't speak of him, Eileen. I hear the whispers when I visit my frame at the Ministry. I know what's been happening even if those left to run our government can't be bothered to pay proper attention to it."
"What's been happening?"
"You were never stupid. You know. That is why you left. You know what's coming-and he still wants you, my dear, well, strong brewers like you. He covets power in all its forms."
Fear stabbed at Eileen as she thought of Severus, who truly was a Potions prodigy. She'd warned him never to show off in that regard, to avoid being noticed at all, but-
"Listen to me, child. Your parents are dead. He killed them when they failed to produce you and your father declined his request that he become involved with the cause."
"I don't believe you, Uncle. I would have heard about it if-"
"You do believe me. Your parents took steps to ensure their privacy, drastic steps, and once they were dead, that man's followers took the house-elves. The only thing left to defend this house is Knocker and the wards."
Eileen turned away from her great uncle's frame.
"Oh," he said. "I see."
"I'm sorry, Uncle. I didn't know. Shouldn't the solicitors-"
"I told you, your parents took . . . steps to ensure their privacy. In any case, they died without heirs. They did manage to disown you properly, after all."
Hope almost choked Eileen, hope for Severus. "That means there's nothing at all left to stop me from taking it!"
Eileen moved quickly for the door. The sigil-keys to their ancestral vault, which had been established generations ago for the benefit of all true Prince heirs, generated at the births of new Princes and had done for hundreds of years. There was such a Princely fortune sitting in Gringotts that no Prince heir had ever wanted for anything once he'd reached his traditional majority, that being the age of thirteen. Severus would be set for life.
With her great uncle's portrait following her from empty frame to empty frame, Eileen told him, "As the only remaining heir, Severus will never need to worry about money again!"
"Eileen, you must calm down. You're not thinking clearly at all, my dear."
Eileen ignored him and hurried toward her father's study. "No!"
The wood was long cold, the magic that had destroyed it, spent, but the burn marks that had been hexed into it were still plain on the remains of the door. Eileen rushed through the pieces of it yet clinging to the hinges, and stopped short at the large glass cabinet that sat, untouched and only ever so slightly dusty, against the far wall.
"It's empty! Did they take it, too? Did those bastards steal my boy's key?"
"Eileen Elizabeth Eleanor Evangeline, you must listen to me!"
Tears itched at the corners of her eyes, blinding Eileen, but she didn't need to see to be able to hear her great uncle; she just didn't want to listen to him.
"Eileen, there is no sigil-key for Severus."
"You know my boy's name."
"I made it my business to find out when I heard you'd birthed a son. I wanted to know if the magic would recognise him. I have to believe," said Stephen, "that you knew it most likely would not-and yet, you came here, risked yourself. Why?"
"I had to try," Eileen told him. "Things have been . . . difficult, and I thought, well, I thought . . . ." Eileen wiped her eyes. "I thought that the familial magics would recognise Severus because I'm of Prince blood. I'm a Prince, Uncle. I'm a Prince, so Severus is a Prince, too."
When Great Uncle Stephen spoke again, his tone was firm but not unkind. "You didn't think it through, Eileen. You're not a Prince. You're a-"
No, Eileen thought.
"-Snape, and because of that, your Severus is, at most, a half-blood Prince."
No, no, no, no, no!
Eileen realised that her great uncle was right, that she was wrong, that she had allowed hope, as usual, to poison her, and with a bitter, eldritch shriek, she began unburdening herself of her own searing disappointment.
~*~
Unplottable houses burned to the ground just the same as the Plottable ones. Of course, the Unplottables burned without inconvenient witnesses.
She held up a cigarette. A lick of flame flew from the general conflagration and into the tip of it. She inhaled.
"Eileen?"
She exhaled.
"Eileen, what's happening? What have you done? Why am I Stuck in this undistinguished frame?"
Eileen took a long drag, smiled nastily at nothing in particular, and exhaled again. "There are no Princes left. We don't need a house."
"Eileen! Remove this canvas cover. I cannot see a thing. I want to see, Eileen!"
"No, you don't, Great Uncle Stephen." Eileen Shrank his portrait and pocketed it. "No, you absolutely don't."
The flames continued to burn, almost merrily, and Eileen considered the property on which she stood. The land was incredibly valuable. It would bring, if anyone found it and could prove ownership of it, an amazing price. Unfortunately, witch though she was, Eileen understood that obtaining such proof was beyond her capabilities.
And there was no telling just what, exactly, her parents had done to ensure their privacy. There was no risking a sale; there might be unintended consequences of trying to do so that would affect Severus. Eileen refused to risk it.
"You're just going to have to content yourself with lesser creations, Uncle, but you'll get used to it. I did."
"Mrrrph, erph erf errrr!"
Eileen ignored her uncle's vocalisations and set off down the drive. Tobias wouldn't be waiting for her at home, not when there was footie on down the pub, and Severus was still away at school. She doubted that her son would return home for the holidays-but that was for the best considering that her plan to surprise him had failed. She flicked away her spent cigarette and gave her pocket a pat.
"Well, if I am to spend the hols alone, at least it will be with some semblance of family."
With that, Eileen began to wonder where she would hide Great Uncle Stephen. She did not, it must be noted, count her fucking steps.
Author:
iulia_linnea
Characters: Eileen Snape, original characters
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2068
Summary: Eileen returns to Prince House on familial business.
Disclaimer: This work of fan fiction is based on characters and situations created by J. K. Rowling and owned by J. K. Rowling and various publishers, including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made from (and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by) the posting of this fan work.
Author's Note: Written as a Category Two entry for the 2023 run of snapecase.
Apparating to just outside of the tree-lined drive, Eileen began counting her steps as she proceeded down it. Twenty-four hundred one steps later, she stood before her childhood home. It looked much the same as it ever had behind its mossy, flower-bedecked stone walls and menacing, over-filigreed gates. From experience, Eileen knew that the thorns twisted into the metal were as barbed as Knocker often was.
"Please tell me that this isn't a 'prodigal' situation."
Eileen stared at the scowling, ancient iron face that was the knocker. It was placed, just as it always had been, just out of reach. She'd never seen it move but knew that it did; its purpose was, she had long ago decided, to illustrate to all and sundry that they were unwelcome. Eileen had never known if she were part of the "all" or the "sundry," but the protection of her parents' privacy had never seemed to envelope her.
"Come now, I haven't got all day," Knocker insisted.
"Time is all you do have, isn't it?"
"Tell me why you're here," ordered Knocker, "or I'll summon the dogs to properly receive you."
Eileen swallowed. She had forgotten the dogs. She had to take a moment to breathe while she made herself forget some of her parents' nastier punishments. After all this time, she still couldn't abide anything even remotely canine.
"Eileen Elizabeth Eleanor Evangeline Prince, state now your business or depart if you would avoid injury."
"Snape."
Knocker hissed to hear it. "Speak not that name!"
"Why? It's mine. I'm Eileen Snape, now. You know that."
Knocker said nothing, but the gates began to creak. He was going to open them. He was going to summon the "dogs." She didn't feel ready for that, so she spoke again.
"Severus is about to turn thirteen, and-"
The creaking stopped. "So you thought to present yourself here to collect your Mudblood's 'birthright'?"
Trying not to rise to his bait, Eileen retorted, "You always were 'direct'."
"Then I shall continue in that same vein. How stupid of you! How cruel! How could you possibly believe that you, you, a traitor such as yourself, would find any sort of welcome at all at Prince House after-oh, it does not bear thinking of, and yet I must speak of it-after the vile act against-no! I can't. I won't! No, yes, I shall! After you betrayed your own blood by admixing it . . . by admixing it with that of a lesser creature?"
Even though Knocker had no need of air, he did tend to pause as if to take it during such speeches. It was obvious to Eileen that her mother had taken over the direction of Knocker's "welcomes." She wondered if that meant her father was ill.
Or dead.
Knocker pressed on, interrupting her thoughts. "Exactly what sort of welcome did you believe you'd find at Prince House if I allowed you to enter it? No, I forbid it. You shall not do it. You shall not enter my master's home!"
Disappointed to learn her father yet lived but knowing that she had to be going on with things, Eileen slid her wand hand into the relevant pocket. "You're just an animated old lump of . . . of impure metal with no true power or will of your own. It's not actually up to you what I do!"
Knocker noticed her attempted act of surreptition. "Don't trouble yourself, child. Surely you retain enough wit to remember that I am, by design, proof against all forms of wizardry?"
"Oh, Knocker," Eileen said, allowing her shoulders to slump a bit, "I do. Yes, of course I do." She tore her hair free from its loose bun in apparent distress. "What was I thinking?"
"You weren't thinking. You never think!"
Eileen shielded her gaze with her unbound hair, whispering, "Oh, but I do think."
Knocker rolled his eyes and so missed it as Eileen straightened into a more active posture.
"I think to hell with wizardry because I'm a witch!"
Zzzrrriiippp!
The dull thudding sound was proof enough for Eileen that Knocker no longer guarded the gate. Coughing through the spell smoke, she moved forward to conjure a new knocker. She added no animation to the new one, and gave it a more feminine set of features. Once it was in place, she set about singing down the household wards. She was still a Prince by blood, so she had, if not quite the right, the ability to do so.
~*~
Eileen stepped through the grand main door and into the quiet house. Her parents had always "wintered" in Majorca and never left home without their house-elves, so Eileen had known that she would find the house empty once she achieved it. That said, she hadn't thought to find herself feeling as safe as she did. Several flicks and swishes later, she realised why.
"There are no 'surprises', no traps. No alarms?"
Wandering from dusty room to dustry room, Eileen couldn't even sense the presence of any of the familial ghosts. She was alone.
"No one has lived here for months," she whispered.
"Years."
"Shit!" Eileen exclaimed, turning about in search of the speaker.
"Up here."
Eileen looked up. "Great Uncle Stephen. Where is everyone?"
She realised then that her great uncle was the only painted figure within a frame; all the others held backgrounds but no subjects, and nothing moved within them. It was almost enough to unnerve her.
"What happened here?"
"You're in no position to demand anything," her ancestor replied. "Nevertheless, I shall explain."
Eileen waited impatiently. She knew from experience that there was no rushing Great Uncle Stephen.
"I've missed you. It was nice to have someone to talk to."
"The 'political' meetings didn't fill that need for you?" snapped Eileen.
"Come now, pet, that's not how to speak to anyone-not if you want my intelligence, that is."
Eileen inhaled, held the breath, and then exhaled. "Do go on, Uncle."
"And how is your . . . new situation?"
"My husband and son are fine. My family," said Eileen defiantly, "is fine."
"You lie. If your 'family' were fine, you would not be here. That boy of yours, he must have reached his traditional majority?"
"Yes, he's about to turn thirteen, so-"
"You came for his familial sigil," interrupted Great Uncle Stephen. "Well, my dear, you've arrived too late."
Eileen lowered her wand. "What are you talking about?"
"You'll remember, I think, that your parents', er, 'important friend' was interested in meeting you?"
"Yes, Great Uncle Ste-"
"And that when you refused to do so, they threatened to disown you?"
"They threatened to dismember me."
"Indeed, but as it happens, it wasn't just your parents who were disappointed."
"But that was years ago! Are you saying that the Dark Lord-"
"Don't speak of him, Eileen. I hear the whispers when I visit my frame at the Ministry. I know what's been happening even if those left to run our government can't be bothered to pay proper attention to it."
"What's been happening?"
"You were never stupid. You know. That is why you left. You know what's coming-and he still wants you, my dear, well, strong brewers like you. He covets power in all its forms."
Fear stabbed at Eileen as she thought of Severus, who truly was a Potions prodigy. She'd warned him never to show off in that regard, to avoid being noticed at all, but-
"Listen to me, child. Your parents are dead. He killed them when they failed to produce you and your father declined his request that he become involved with the cause."
"I don't believe you, Uncle. I would have heard about it if-"
"You do believe me. Your parents took steps to ensure their privacy, drastic steps, and once they were dead, that man's followers took the house-elves. The only thing left to defend this house is Knocker and the wards."
Eileen turned away from her great uncle's frame.
"Oh," he said. "I see."
"I'm sorry, Uncle. I didn't know. Shouldn't the solicitors-"
"I told you, your parents took . . . steps to ensure their privacy. In any case, they died without heirs. They did manage to disown you properly, after all."
Hope almost choked Eileen, hope for Severus. "That means there's nothing at all left to stop me from taking it!"
Eileen moved quickly for the door. The sigil-keys to their ancestral vault, which had been established generations ago for the benefit of all true Prince heirs, generated at the births of new Princes and had done for hundreds of years. There was such a Princely fortune sitting in Gringotts that no Prince heir had ever wanted for anything once he'd reached his traditional majority, that being the age of thirteen. Severus would be set for life.
With her great uncle's portrait following her from empty frame to empty frame, Eileen told him, "As the only remaining heir, Severus will never need to worry about money again!"
"Eileen, you must calm down. You're not thinking clearly at all, my dear."
Eileen ignored him and hurried toward her father's study. "No!"
The wood was long cold, the magic that had destroyed it, spent, but the burn marks that had been hexed into it were still plain on the remains of the door. Eileen rushed through the pieces of it yet clinging to the hinges, and stopped short at the large glass cabinet that sat, untouched and only ever so slightly dusty, against the far wall.
"It's empty! Did they take it, too? Did those bastards steal my boy's key?"
"Eileen Elizabeth Eleanor Evangeline, you must listen to me!"
Tears itched at the corners of her eyes, blinding Eileen, but she didn't need to see to be able to hear her great uncle; she just didn't want to listen to him.
"Eileen, there is no sigil-key for Severus."
"You know my boy's name."
"I made it my business to find out when I heard you'd birthed a son. I wanted to know if the magic would recognise him. I have to believe," said Stephen, "that you knew it most likely would not-and yet, you came here, risked yourself. Why?"
"I had to try," Eileen told him. "Things have been . . . difficult, and I thought, well, I thought . . . ." Eileen wiped her eyes. "I thought that the familial magics would recognise Severus because I'm of Prince blood. I'm a Prince, Uncle. I'm a Prince, so Severus is a Prince, too."
When Great Uncle Stephen spoke again, his tone was firm but not unkind. "You didn't think it through, Eileen. You're not a Prince. You're a-"
No, Eileen thought.
"-Snape, and because of that, your Severus is, at most, a half-blood Prince."
No, no, no, no, no!
Eileen realised that her great uncle was right, that she was wrong, that she had allowed hope, as usual, to poison her, and with a bitter, eldritch shriek, she began unburdening herself of her own searing disappointment.
~*~
Unplottable houses burned to the ground just the same as the Plottable ones. Of course, the Unplottables burned without inconvenient witnesses.
She held up a cigarette. A lick of flame flew from the general conflagration and into the tip of it. She inhaled.
"Eileen?"
She exhaled.
"Eileen, what's happening? What have you done? Why am I Stuck in this undistinguished frame?"
Eileen took a long drag, smiled nastily at nothing in particular, and exhaled again. "There are no Princes left. We don't need a house."
"Eileen! Remove this canvas cover. I cannot see a thing. I want to see, Eileen!"
"No, you don't, Great Uncle Stephen." Eileen Shrank his portrait and pocketed it. "No, you absolutely don't."
The flames continued to burn, almost merrily, and Eileen considered the property on which she stood. The land was incredibly valuable. It would bring, if anyone found it and could prove ownership of it, an amazing price. Unfortunately, witch though she was, Eileen understood that obtaining such proof was beyond her capabilities.
And there was no telling just what, exactly, her parents had done to ensure their privacy. There was no risking a sale; there might be unintended consequences of trying to do so that would affect Severus. Eileen refused to risk it.
"You're just going to have to content yourself with lesser creations, Uncle, but you'll get used to it. I did."
"Mrrrph, erph erf errrr!"
Eileen ignored her uncle's vocalisations and set off down the drive. Tobias wouldn't be waiting for her at home, not when there was footie on down the pub, and Severus was still away at school. She doubted that her son would return home for the holidays-but that was for the best considering that her plan to surprise him had failed. She flicked away her spent cigarette and gave her pocket a pat.
"Well, if I am to spend the hols alone, at least it will be with some semblance of family."
With that, Eileen began to wonder where she would hide Great Uncle Stephen. She did not, it must be noted, count her fucking steps.