Snapey Went A Courting

Snapey Went A Courting

It all belongs to Rowling, except what you don’t recognize.

Chapter 12 – Cultivate Your Own Garden


Sidney Marston looked out his window. There was a large group of people on the sidewalk of the garden flat across the street from him. They were quite a motley crew, thank you very much! They seemed to have dressed up for a costume party. But it was only 7:46 in the morning. How odd!

Hermione was pulled out of her sleep by the doorbell ringing. She checked on Waldo and then hurried to the door. Feeling cautious because of the House Elf incident, she checked through the drapes on her front window to see who was there. She leapt back in shock. There was a mass of Wizarding folk! On further inspection she noted Luna Lovegood and Rita Skeeter among them. Reporters! And in this Muggle neighborhood the authorities would be notified in no time. And then the Ministry of Magic would have to become involved and… Oh Damn. Hermione’s head hurt.

Blast! First the House Elves and now the papers. Hermione felt like taking Waldo and heading out the back door. But there would be more of them there no doubt. She was taking another little peek when something strange happened. It was like a whirlwind had blown up from nowhere! Suddenly, all the Wizards and Witches in their garish, and some quite downright bizarre, outfits were lifted up into the air and whisked away! Hermione stood there at the window with her mouth open. Then she noticed a middle-aged, balding man of medium height with long, auburn hair and blue eyes standing on her doorstep. His clothes were slightly out of fashion, but still tasteful. He looked at Hermione and waved.

On impulse, she left the window and went to her door. She opened it and the man bowed to her and smiled.

“Saccius Snape, at your service, Mademoiselle.”

&&&

Snape was tempted to get drunk and write off the day as a complete loss. On the one hand, he could lie. She would have no idea that those quotes were real. He certainly had never given any sort of interview. He read the lines again and felt, well, more shame than a man of his age and experience should. Must be the whiskey, he thought.

Or perhaps the frustration of it all? He’d been through more than most Wizards had in his nearly forty years of life and, really, with the defeat of Voldemort all he had wanted was some peace and quiet and chance to put it all behind him. Sans Potter and his pals. Instead here he was-- a father-- trying to get some sort of foothold in his son’s life.

He shook his head. His own father’s suicide had always felt like a rejection of him, even though Saccius Snape had no way of possibly knowing that his wife was pregnant at the time of his demise. And frankly, any Wizard who ever met his mother would understand the impulse to self-destruction that coupling with such a she-monster as Achlys would engender. Snape allowed himself to sink a little further into his morass of guilty self-absorbency and wallowed in his self-pity.

He didn’t ask for the Mudblood bitch to seduce him. That’s not what he was looking for when he went to the Hog’s Head that night. Why couldn’t she have left him alone? Snape laid his head on his arms and the tears trailed down his face. Not yet eight in the morning and he was getting shitfaced. And why not, why not indeed?

&&&


“And finally, here is a picture of my beautiful wife, Suzette. Is she not just lovely?”

Hermione sighed. Saccius Snape was showing her pictures of his family. And it was a large one! Six daughters, all married and all with grandchildren. She nodded politely at the picture of a scowling dark haired, dark-eyed, plump Witch. She had rarely seen a man so besotted by his family, so very proud and in absolute raptures over them. So what was he doing here?

“I hope you won’t think me rude,” she said putting the pictures down and shifting Waldo to her other breast, “but how is it that you are dead here and quite alive and well in France?”

“Ahhhhh. More hot chocolate? Perhaps another croissant?”

Hermione shook her head.

“It’s a long, sad story, I fear. When it became obvious shortly after our wedding that Achlys and I were quite unsuited for each other, I planned my escape. Things came together just right and I was able to fake my suicide with little trouble at all.”

“So you willingly gave up the Snape fortune to go live in exile?”

“Ah, well I was much younger then and a bit of a romantic. I had always felt somewhat trapped by my duties as a Snape. And although all Snapes have a talent for the Dark Arts, I didn’t like Tom Riddle, or Voldemort as you now call him. No, simply not my cuppa. So imagine my shocked surprise and pain, yes pain, to discover that my wife didn’t love me at all! She loved her Tommy and simply married me for my money and on his command! At first I wanted to kill myself, but then realized that that would give her too much satisfaction. So I took the easy way out. And have never regretted it, except for not knowing my son.

“You see, I’ve always been good at the French language and having transferred a generous amount of money to a new account under my new identity, as John Snape, I was ready to settle back to a simple life of excellent wine, women and song in the French countryside. But then I met Suzette. Ah, such a Witch. She convinced me to settle down and raise a family. Upon finding a position open at Beauxbatons as a Dark Arts instructor, you see my dear how much more reasonable the French are in these matters, I took the position and settled down. My angel happily began having children and I never gave my old life in England a second thought.”

Hermione sat back and removed the sleeping Waldo from her breast.

“That is amazing, Mr. Snape—“

“Ah, mais non, please call me John. Never really liked the name of Saccius, sorry that you felt inspired to name him that, although I suppose I should be flattered. Waldo is good though. Nice strong English name, Waldo.”

“Thank you-- John. But how do you know all this?”

John took out from his pocket a rolled up copy of the Daily Prophet. Hermione very carefully placed Waldo in his bassinette. And with shaking hands, took the newspaper.

“Oh, Hell!” she moaned as she read the headline. She sat down on the couch, “I don’t want to read it. I can’t. Look, can I come to France to stay with your family?”

John smiled and took her hands. “Nothing would delight me more! However, as much as I can recommend the policy of running away from one’s troubles, I admit to some guilt over how my son’s life has turned out and hesitate to interfere in his affairs.

“He was two years old before I had the occasion to return to England incognito and discovered that I had a son. The knowledge of his existence caused me many a sleepless night. So I hired a private investigator and was relieved to discover that the hellion who I had married had all ready given over my son’s care to her brother and his wife. Although I had never met Quirinius, I had been at Hogwarts with Gladys King and knew her to be a good and loving person.”

John poured himself some more hot chocolate.

“It was with great sadness and guilt that nearly a decade later I received a report from my investigator that both Gladys and Severus had wound up in St. Mungo’s after a particularly vicious assault on their persons by my brother-in-law. It seems that Quirinius had been abusing them both for many years, culminating in their hospitalization. My brother-in-law was sent to Azkaban prison. The authorities stepped in and Severus was returned to his mother’s care. By that time he was ready to go to Hogwarts. Cowardly, you might think, but even then I chose my own happiness over the welfare of my boy. I had a wife that I loved, a job that I loved, and six gorgeous, vivacious little girls. Perhaps I should have kidnapped Severus and disguised him as one of my own. After all once you get past four children, no one ever notices an extra head or two. Still, I held back. And now it is too late.”

John swiped a couple of tears, which had gathered at the corners of his eyes.

Hermione just stared at him. “And that’s it? You aren’t going to tell him that he has a family, are you?”

“No, my dear. And I request that you agree to keep my little secret or I shall have to use a memory charm. I only came here to see my grandson and request that I am allowed to continue to see him. Unfortunately, I have burned my bridges with regards to my son a long time ago.”

“I just can’t believe it. How you can come walking in here and, and…”

“You are very angry.”

“The man’s been through Hell. You just told me so yourself. I can understand you not doing anything when you didn’t know, but to find out and do nothing.”

He tried to pat her hand but she pulled it away.

“You are young, very young, but one day you may come to understand how happiness makes one selfish. There is a great deal of wisdom to be found in ‘Cultivating One’s Own Garden.’ And now I must depart.”

“You BASTARD. How can you live with yourself? You miserable—” Hermione had her wand out. “And don’t even think of trying a memory charm.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. Severus finding out he has a father after all these years probably will just make him more unhappy, but he has a right.”

“What if?” John looked around the room, “I should tell you that there has been a presence here. You don’t work in the Dark Arts for as long as I have without developing a sense of these things.”

Hermione shivered, “What do you mean?”

“I can’t tell you exactly what magical creature it was, but it was not benevolent towards you.”

“You’re just trying to scare me… All right, there were some House Elves here last night.”

“No, not House Elves, something else.” He paced the room, his brows knitted together. “I’m sorry. Look, take this coin. If you have any troubles, hold it and say “Licorice Toffee” and I will come immediately.”

“Licorice Toffee? You weren’t an associate of Albus Dumbledore by any chance?”

“Served in the war agaiGrinGrindelwald with him. You are a bright thing. Seems the Snape penchant for women with personality has held true in my son.”

“I don’t think you have the right to call him that anymore.” Hermione still felt angered by what she had heard.

“You’re quite correct,” he said with a sad shake of his head. “Gave that up a long time ago. Still, I want to be a part of Waldo’s life, if you will permit it.”

“I’m not sure. Especially if you wish to keep your identity safe from Severus.”

“If we meet, I am merely John, someone you met…”

“No, don’t expect me to make up lies to cover for you. It’s at your own risk.”

“Well, my son will be arriving soon, so I’d best be off.”

“How do you know that?”

From out of his pocket, he removed a stone, dark green with glowing red splotches. “A blood stone. It’s magicked to let me know when my family is about. I’ll leave you now.” He bent over Hermione’s hand and kissed it. “Perhaps one day you will forgive me. But until then, I am most grateful to be permitted access to my grandchild. Thank you.”

With a “pop” he was gone.

Hermione went over to her fireplace and threw some floo powder on it. “Harry, Harry, are you there?”

“Hello?” said Daisy. “Are you Hermione?”

“Yes, and who are you?”

“Harry’s friend. Harry’s told me all about you. I’m flat-sitting for him while he’s out of town.”

“Oh. He didn’t tell me about it.”

“Quite unexpected it was, some hush-hush case for the Ministry. He should be gone about a week or two.”

“I see. Let him know that I called?”

“Will do. Just as soon as he checks in.”

Hermione took her head out of the fireplace. It bothered her that he wasn’t letting her in on things. She sat down on her couch and eyed the folded paper there. How bad could it be, she wondered. Should I just throw it out without looking at it? Hermione wrapped her arms around herself. She wondered if Severus… She stopped mid-thought. When did he start being Severus and stop being the professor? She sighed. So early in the day and she just wanted to go back to bed. Well, why not? John had said his son was coming, but he didn’t say how soon. Even a few minutes rest would be nice.

She picked up the bassinette and returned to her bedroom hoping that maybe she’d wake up and it would all just be a bad dream.

&&&

Harry came out of the bathroom, dressed in a blue silk robe embroidered with cherry blossoms.

“Who were you talking to, Daisy?”

“Me mum, love. There’s a family problem and I have to head home for a few days.”

“Oh. Is everyone all right?”

“It’s just a minor thing. Don’t you worry yourself none.” She reached up to Harry and with a sly smile she undid his robe. She kissed the side of his neck while twisting one of his nipples. Harry gasped.

Her mouth trailed down Harry’s chest, nipping and kissing until she was on her knees before him and kissing the line of black hair leading to his pubic area. Harry’s cock hardened and a tiny tremor shot through him.

“You don’t need to do this, Daisy.”

“Oh, but I want you to have something to remember me by.” And she took his almost fully erect cock into her mouth. She used her tongue to tease him to complete hardness.

Harry brought his legs apart to better balance himself and gently placed his hand on her head as she bobbed back and forth. Without losing a beat she cradled his balls in the palm of her hand, caressing and playing with them.

She increased the speed of sliding him in and out of her mouth, encouraged by his small moans and loving endearments. She relaxed the back of her throat and he was fully in her. She started to moan, incredibly turned on by his excitement and the musky aroma of his arousal. Slipping her hand back from his sac, her nimble fingers found his puckered entrance and pressed in.

Harry bucked and came. She swallowed quickly, not allowing herself to choke and continuing her tonguing of him. Pushing her carefully away from his cock, Harry kneeled beside her and took her in his arms, hugging her and pressing his lips against hers. His tongue darted into her mouth and he tasted his own essence.

There was a niggling thought in Harry’s mind. Wasn’t he supposed to have told her something-- Something about Waldo and needing to break it off with Daisy. Harry felt guilty. It seemed as if every time he planned to tell her, something would happen to stop him. His hands stroked her warm, luscious body even as his mind shouted at him that something just wasn’t right.

He picked her up in his arms and laid her carefully down on the bed. Removing her knickers and bending back her legs, he smiled raffishly.

“All right now, Daisy, your turn...”

&&&


“Drink this, Severus. All up-- right now!” Professor McGonagall’s voice was stern and tense. It came from outside the periphery of Snape’s rather tunneled vision.

“No, let me be, Minerva. I don’t want to sober up,” he said slurring his words.

“You have to face it. And if you don’t want to lose your son—“

“I’ve lost him. You saw the article. She’ll hate me.”

“Well, that never bothered you before. You are quite inured to people hating you. So drink up and go to her!”

“No.”

“Severus Snape, you will listen and listen good. Drink this, wash up and go let that poor girl know that you love her.”

He took the potion, noting that it was probably the last and a new batch was on his ‘To Do’ list, and swallowed it. He held his breath and forced himself not to throw it back up. Rapidly the room came back into focus.

“I don’t love her, Minerva. Do you want me to lie?”

McGonagall sat down next to him. Her eyes were cold and steely blue. “If you want your son badly enough, you will do whatever it takes.”

“Some Gryffindor you turned out to be,” he sneered.

McGonagall smiled. “And if you were a proper Slytherin, the two of you would be married by now. For Merlin’s sake, the cat’s out of the bag. You hadter ter do something, and damned quick, before the headmaster returns.”

The potion made his stomach lurch and he swallowed hard before it could escape. “Right, well, I’ll get cleaned up and head over.” He scowled, “But I still have no idea what to say to her.”

“Just tell her the wedding will be this evening and you’ll move heaven and earth to make her happy.”

He froze. “That simple? I’ve asked her to marry me. I threatened her and I’ve begged her. The damned girl refuses. I don’t understand it… her. Why the hell won’t she marry me?”

“She still doesn’t trust you. Make her trust you.”

“Crazy old Witch,” he said as he went to put on fresh clothing.

“Stubborn idiot,” said McGonagall, taking a swig of the whiskey.

A/N: Many hugs and many thanks to my reviewers: Luna, Spaz141, Devsgma, Deblovesdragon, Rilla, Deb, Buttercup, Karen, NegativeNine and Kait.

And also special thanks to LooneyLoopyLuna and to Lucie (who went beyond the call of duty.)