A Winter Tale

A Winter Tale

By: Max


Inspired by the WIKTT Marriage Law Challenge, but not following it exactly

[Disclaimer see chapter 1]


Chapter 26: An hero’s heir

Actually it could have been a great place with the roaring flames in a fireplace so huge three adult men could easily stand in it, flickering torches along the walls and the green-silver carpets and the mahogany closets and desks and book shelves and the green upholstered chairs and sofas. Who ever had decorated the room, hadn’t only spend a great amount of moneut out owned a high developed sense of style. Nevertheless the room was far away from being cosy or inviting. Something forbidding seem to hang over it, something which made it impossible to laugh loudly in it and so even the group of young girls who had gathered in the chairs around a table near the entrance didn’t chat with giggles and noises like other children t age age, but spoke quietly, their faces serious and their heads bent as if they’d share secrets for no one to hear.

The group directly in front of the fireplace didn’t show so much restricting. One of the boys, a tall 16 year old, loitered on the sofa, his black robe crumpled, and his tie half open. His head lay in the lap of a blonde girl who played with a look of possessiveness in his long, gold brown curls. Another boy, around 15, blond, with a swallow face and cold grey eyes, leaned at the mantelpiece, his fingers playing lazily with the moving stone snakes there. Next im iim in a chair sat a long legged 16 year old with thick black hair falling in his dark face. On his robe stuck – just over the green-silver crest with the snake – a button with the letter “P”. A heavy book lay in his lap and he was taking notes by reading. But he nevertheless noticed the flickering of the torches as an arch in the wall opened and a bony, raven-haired boy in black robes entered the room.

The group at the mantelpiece fell silent immediately all their eyes directed on the pale little boy who hurried through the room to the archway on the opposite without raising his head.

“Just leave him alone!” The boy with the book in his lap looked up to his friends warningly.

They didn’t listen to him. The one at the fireplace sneered maliciously and said loud enough for all inhabitants of the room to hear it: “Look, look – we’re once again honoured with the presence of the heroes’ heir.”

The boy who’d almost arrived at his destination turned around. Directing his azure blue eyes to the fireplace, he said with a firm and clear voice: “I’ve got as much right to be here as you, Parkinson.”

“This was what we’ve just discussed,” said the girl on the sofa. “And you’ll like to learn that you’ve got an advocate for your case in Zabini. He thinks that your Slytherin fathers – who ever it was who really sired you – make up for your mudblood mother.”

Now the boy on the sofa raised his head. Sounding bored he added: “Probably she could be made an honorary Slytherin – despite of her mudblood. I mean she obviously was able to fool Slytherins. Or did your nominal father know about your mother fucking Snape, Dumbledore? What do you think?”

In Leontes Dumbledore’s pale face no muscle twitched. Only his eyes became small as he slowly said: “I think I should hex you, Lestrange.”

The brown haired boy on the sofa starred at him, and then he started to laugh. “Well, well, little boy – tell me the date you’ll be ready for it and I’ll be there – in 10 or 20 years or whenever you’re ready to fight.”

“I am ready.” Leontes had his wand out already. Raising it over his head with the tip in direction of the group at the fireplace, he yelled: “Expelliarmus – stupefy!” Parkinson’s, Zabini’s and Lestrange’s wands sailed through the Slytherin common room and became caught in Leontes right hand. Only Belladonna Malfoy kept her wand, but only because she’d been slower than the boys and the “stupefy” had got her as she’d just fumbled her wand out of her sleeve.

The common room fell deadly silent now. The first year girls on the table at the entrance had ducked, the third years playing chess in the corner didn’t dare to move, but only starred at Leontes who walked now to the fireplace, his back erect, the chin up and a cold fire in his blue eyes. Looking at his four stunned victims, he smiled an icy smile. “I am Albus Dumbledore’s son – but pity for you: It was Severus Snape who taught me dung. ng. So don’t you ever dare besmirching my mother again!” He directed his wand on Lestrange on the sofa and murmured a spell. Without waiting for the effect he looked at the girl. “And you …” Casting another jinx, he turned to Parkinson who still leaned at the mantelpiece. Leontes seemed to consider how to hex him as a cold voice commanded: “Expelliarmus!” Now it was four wands sailing through the room, getting caught by a bony brunette in dark green robes. She’d come trough a hole in the wall which closed behind her as she stepped down the four steps to the fireplace. With an “enervate” she made the four stunned Slytherins move again and looked at them with an academicals interest. And the sight was worth looking at: Lestrange immediately clutched his hands over his mouth, but couldn’t avoid soap bubbles coming out and floating through the room. His girlfriend had both her hands on her face too, but she didn’t bubble, but screamed shrilly.

“Silence!” commanded the green robed woman, getting closer to the girl. “Let me look at your face, Miss Malfoy.”

Her voice was firm enough to make the girl take her hands down, showing her forehead on which red boils formed the word “Filth”.

“Hmm …” said the woman. Directing her wand at the girl she said: “Finite incantatum.” Yet the boils didn’t vanish and once again the girl started screaming. “You will have to go to the infirmary, Miss Malfoy,” said the older witch.

“But I can’t go like this through the entire castle!” protested the girl. “Can’t you make it go away, Professor Colders?”

“I’m not a mediwitch,” the professor only answered and turned to Lestrange who still spit bubbles out. Another “finite incantatum” made him stop it, but he looked very pale and wiped fiercely his mouth. Professor Colders looked at Leontes, her brown eyes as cold as her voice. “And now to you, Mister Dumbledore. Would you care to explain to me why you’ve jinxed your house mates?”

Leontes Dumbledore didn’t answer. He only looked up to the professor, his blue eyes sill blazing, and his mouth a small line.

“They insulted his parents with …” Magnus Zabini, the prefect, tried to say, but got instantly silenced.

“I didn’t ask you, Mister Zabini.” Looking back at Leontes, Professor Colders said: “Well, Mister Dumbledore – you obviously don’t want to tell. And you obviously think that your name and your connection to this school make you staving above all rules. Only I don’t think so. And because this was the second time in two weeks you’ve attacked house mates and because of my detentions obviously making not much of an impression to you, we’ll now go see see the headmistress. Perhaps Professor McGonagall is able to show you your place, Mister Dumbledore.”


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“Sometimes I really don’t understand Minerva,” Hermione complained, walking up the steps to Hogwarts big entrance hall. “I’ had to cancel a class to come here.”

“What luck that I was sitting around entirely bored and just wishing for some entertainment – like an order from Minerva.” Severus opened the door and let Hermione step through.

“Really, Severus – why couldn’t she use the floo?” Hermione’s face became worried. “Or is it something so bad she thinks she must tell us face to face?”

“Obviously it is,” Severus said quietly.

“Oh, you’re such a comfort!” Hermione ranted and looked down the hall which led to the dungeons. “Actually I’d like to see Leontes first.”

“He’s in class now,” Severus said curtly.

“I hope so. But what if he’s sick? Or injured?” Hermione tugged nervously at her cloak. “He’s only 11 years old! If he’s ill, he will need me.”

“And then Minerva would have flooed you,” Severus sighed. “I’ve told you already 147 times since you got the owl.”

Hermione, climbing up the stairs, didn’t seem to hear him. “You know,” she said, “I really don’t like he’s in Slytherin. I know the Sorting Hat placed him there, but I nevertheless think every other house would have been better for him.”

“Especially Gryffindor,” Severus snorted. “The little lion walking in the path of the light, correcting at last that his father unfortunately was a Slytherin …”

“I didn’t say that!” Hermione defended herself. “But you must admit: The son of a muggle born in Slytherin is wrong!”

“Is it?” Severus raised one of his elegant eyebrows. “Or is the first step to integration? As far as I remember it was your late husband who fought all his life for a united magical world.”

Hermione made a face. “Severus,” she said then with forced patience. “I’m not talking about politic. I’m talking about an 11 year old boy who’s incidentally is my son …”

“… and who isn’t a wimp!” Severus said energetic. “And I actually don’t think you should treat him like one.”

They’d arrived now at the stone gargoyle which still guarded the entrance of the headmistress’ office. By seeing it Hermione pulled her cloak closer around her and looked down at her feet.

Severus said the password – with Minerva McGonagall as Headmistress it was of course not the name of a sweet anymore, but a rather severe “Apes debemus imitari*”. Severus sneered as he stepped with Hermione onto the spiral staircase. “Knowing our dear Minerva, I doubt she thought about the bees and the flowers by choosing her password.”

Hermione didn’t comment on that. She still looked at her feet.

Severus sighed and inwardly cursed his former colleague. Hadn’t Minerva noticed that Hermione had for 11 years avoided to come back to Hogwarts? And who could blame her? Severus remembered only too well Hermione standing in the entrance hall, kissing Albus before he went out to take up his last fight. And he remembered Hermione walking next to a stretcher and holding Albus’ hand as they’d left Hogwarts a week after the final battle. She then never wanted to come back to this place – Severus understood and he’d actually thought Minerva, although a Gryffindor mostly meant a person with the sensitivity of a brick wall, would understand too.

Obviously he’d been wrong. But at least it was good Minerva had ordered him too. He’d have hated to have Hermione going back on her own and he knew: Even if he’d have argued with her all night: Without Minerva asking for him too he’d have never stood a chance to accompany Hermione. But now he was there and while the staircase spiralled up, he was alone with the stubborn Gryffindor witch who drove him crazy once a week and was nevertheless the love of his life.

Laying his hand on her shoulder, he bent down to her. “I’m here with you, my heart,” he whispered. “And whatever it is – we’ll face it together.”

His reward was a small smile and her hand on his cheek. “I love you, Severus Snape.”

“I know, Hermione.” He never answered with “I love you too”, but he was sure she knew that he did. Now they had arrived and Severus knocked on the old oak door.

A familiar, firm voice called “Come in!” and Severus opened the door, his free hand at Hermione’s back, supporting her.

The office had changed. Instead of the whirling and spinning objects Albus had kept around him, the tables along the bookshelves were empty now. Everything looked neat and well organized, even the old, battered Sorting Hat, sitting on a shelf, looked as if it had got a good, thorough cleaning. Yet what made the changes in the room clearest for Severus was the smell of it. As a potion master his nose was trained to analyze fragrances and he remembered the smell of lemon drops, herb lavender and forest he’d always connected with this room. it wit was sandalwood and bergamot – he remembered Minerva having a liking for Earl Grey tea.

Looking around Severus registered the portraits of the former headmasters had changed places too. Phineas Nigellus Black, who had always hung next to the door, was not in sight anymore – probably Minerva had gotten him a place on the gallery over the office. Where he had been was now Armando Dippeportportrait, in former times placed over the mantle of the fireplace. There was now an empty portrait, only showing a high backed green chair in front of a wall with a blue and golden crest. A small sign under the painting said who actually should be to be seen in it: “A. P. W. B. Dumbledore, 1843-2006”.

Severus wasn’t sure what he felt about the empty painting. On one hand he often longed to hear Albus always a bit husky voice again. On the other hand he was almost glad he wasn’t there. He really didn’t know how Hermione would have reacted to him.

Minerva had obviously noticed Severus looking at the portrait. With a small smile she said: “He never was one for sitting around quietly all day. But when he’s needed, he’s always there.” She sounded as if she’d expect the portrait’s inhabitto sto show up that moment, but nothing happened – except that Hermione cleared her throat and said, sounding a bit defiant: “You’ve wanted to see us, Professor McGonagall.”

The usage of the formal title made it clear that she didn’t count orders like the one she’d got with Minerva’s owl as nice invitations among friends.

And obviously it hadn’t been meant as such because Minerva, looking as stern as always in her green robe and with the now white hair in a tight bun, didn’t rise to greet them. Instead she pointed to the two high backed, wooden chairs in front of her desk. “Please sit down, Hermione, Severus.”

Silently Hermione and Severus obeyed and Severus suddenly felt like a 14 year old who’d been ordered to the Headmaster for being out after curfew. He didn’t like this feeling much and so he switched his Slytherin sneer on and said very cool: “And a good day to you too, Minerva.”

“I’m afraid this is not a good day,” Minerva answered promptly and very tight lipped. “We have difficulties with your son …”

“We?” Severus raised an eye brow. “Was that a pluralis majestatis as in ‘we, Minerva McGonagall, almighty headmistress’ or a ‘we’ as in ‘I and the members of my staff”?”

Minerva shot a dagger at him out of her green eyes. “It was a ‘we’ as in ‘the staff, his house mates and I’, dear Severus.”

“Hogwarts entire staff? I’ve lost track a bit, but isn’t they around 30 people now? And you’re all in trouble with Leontes?” Severus sounded very ironic. “Not bad for an 11 year old, I think. Even his father needed 150 years of experience and a job as headmaster to become a problem for the entire staff and the Slytherins. It seems Leontes is his true heir.”

It was as if the last 11 years hadn’t happened. Minerva and Severus starred at each other – she with blazing eyes, he out of almost amused onyx eyes.

Only in former times it had been always Albus who had stepped between them. Now it was Hermione. “What happened, Minerva?” she demanded to know.

Minerva, sat behind her desk with a very straight back, looked at Hermione. “Your son hexed a few of his housemates – twice in only two weeks.”

Hermione was immediately on her feet. Panting and bracing her hands on Minerva’s desk she cried: “What did they do to him?”

“This I asked him too,” Minerva said curtly. “He refused to answer. Yet I have my suspicions and that’s the reason why I asked both of you to come here.” Overlooking Severus’ once again rd eyd eye brow she addressed the young woman in front of her: “Hermione, you know you were always something like my favourite pupil. Over the last years I thought we even became something likeendsends. And for Severus …,” now she looked at him and even managed a small smile, “… you know, that despite our disagreements I’ve always cared for you. I know you’re a brave and honourable man and I even know that you care deeply for Leontes Beatus. And this is why I have to ask you: Why do you bring the boy into such a situation?”

“We?” Hermione fell back on her chair. “What do you mean with that?”

“What I’ve said,” Minerva answered firmly. “But I’m of course willing to explain it in more details.” She laid the tips of her long fingers together and looking at them, she proceeded. “I must say I was myself sused sed and not too pleased as the Sorting Hat placed Leontes Beatus in Slytherin. I was convinced that as the son of a muggleborn witch he would become a Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw and I was for the first time since I’m headmistress was tempted to act against the Sorting hat.”

“I would have liked that,” said Hermione, sounding pretty sulky.

“Aldidndidn’t.” Minerva looked up to the still empty portrait. “He said the damage of overruling the Sorting hat would not only destroy everything we’ve achieved in Slytherin house over the last years since the war, but would make life even more difficult for the boy too. The burden he has already to bear in being the son of a legend is hard enough and makes him outstanding enough. If he would have to bear the stigma of being the headmistress’ special case too it wouldn’t become easier for him. Besides: How could he ever feel at home in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor with knowing that he actually belongs in Slytherin?”

“Just for once I agree with you,” Severus said and sneered at the furious glance Hermione sent to him.

“I’ll make a notice in Hogwarts a history,” Minerva said dryly. “Coming back to our subject: With Leontes Beatus in Slytherin the upcoming trouble was easy to foresee. Slytherin as the fortress of pureblood means that Slytherin is also the house with the most conservative opinions. So it was – at least to me – clear that your …” She seemed to search for a word and decided then for “… rather unconventional living arrangement wouldn’t sit tell ell with Leontes Beatus’ housemates and with most of their parents. They remember the old rumours about the ménage a troi in Dumbledore Hall before the boy’s birth …”

“Menage a troi?” Hermione shouted. “Minerva, I’d have never thought that you – you who were so close …”

Minerva looked sternly at her. “Hermione, I didn’t say I believe in the rumours. Besides: I knew Albus even longer than, He, Hermione. I see the alikeness between him and Leontes Beatus.”

“And you know that I can’t sire a child,” Severus added. Smiling coldly he added: “Perhaps I should offer the ‘Daily Prophet’ a semen sample. If I gave it under the eyes of the editor-in-chief they would perhaps come to believe that I’m not Leontes’ father.”

“I don’t think so, Severus,” Minerva answered calmly. “They would probably say you lost your fertility after fathering Leontes Beatus.”

“I can’t believe it!” Hermione rose up and began to pace through the room. “What do I have to do to convince people that I was a faithful wife?”

“I think it would help if you’d become an honourable one again,” Minerva answered dryly. And stopping Hermione who’d just wanted to say something with raising her hand, she added: “Like it or not, Hermione: The magical world is very old-fashioned. To have for years an affair with a man without marrying him isn’t received to well by old pureblood families. They wonder – and they talk. It’s a lot of rubbish they talk – like you wouldn’t want to marry Severus because you’d lose Leontes Beatus and your money then.”

“What?” Hermione breathed hard. “That’s crap! Why should I?”

“Bse sse some people,” sounded suddenly a husky voice through the room, “obviously think I’d have been an idiot.”

“Albus!” Hermione whirled around, looking at the portrait where Albus just sat down on his chair, smiling at her.

“You look lovely,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “I always found that your temper becomes you. It makes your eyes sparkle …”

“Albus!” Hermione was between tears and laughter. She stepped closer to the portrait and whispered: “How do you like your son?”

“He’s a wonderful boy, Hermione and I’m terribly proud of him,” he answered seriously.

“Do you speak with him sometimes?” Hermione seemed to have forgotten Minerva and Severus.

Albus shook his head. “No, Hermione, I don’t. I sometimes watch him out of other paintings, but we never speak.”

“But why, Albus?” Hermione cried. “He’d love it! He asked so often about you and as he was smaller, Severus and I had to tell him all about you.”
t not now he doesn’t ask anymore, Hermione does he?” Albus looked seriously at his widow and then at Severus who had rose too. “You know why, Severus, do you?”

“I’m not sure, Albus,” Severus answered and knew the portrait would understand the meaning behind. “I never …,” he started.

Suddenly Albus’ eyes twinkled again. “Never is such a big word, Severus. I remember you told me once that you would never want to see a member of the golden trio after they’d have finished school. Now you seem to see a great deal he ehe entire trio, don’t you?”

He still managed to make Severus smile. “Wasn’t it you who always said ‘What can’t be cured, must be endured’?”

“Yes – though I must say that enduring Hermione mostly is a lovely task. And …” Albus became serious again, “Leontes looks to me like a boy who isn’t to endure, but to enjoy.”

In front of Albus Severus had never been able to hide his feelings. So he nodded and said quietly: “I never thought it possible, but – never is such a big word. I love your son, Albus.”

“And you love Hermione,” Albus stated.

“Yes, I do.” Severus looked him in the eyes.

“Little Lioness?” Albus smiled at Hermione. “Do you love Severus?”

Hermione swallowed. “Yes,” she answered then and gripping Severus’ hand, she looked up at Albus again. “You know, Albus, I never stopped loving you and I never will. But I love Severus too.”

“So why don’t you marry? So far as I know, the story about my last will forbidding it is utter rubbish. I think it’s time you marry and it’s time to give our son a normal, complete family. And I’d actually like if you’d adopt Leontes, Severus.”

“But …” Hermione started.

“That’s not a good idea,” Severus said at the same moment. “It would look like a confession. Besides: He’s the last Dumbledore. Your name would die out.”

“He could have a double name – he wouldn’t be the first one.” Albus looked over the rim of his half-moon spectacles as he’d done in life. “Besides: What’s a name? What are stupid rumours against a boy’s heart’s desire? Leontes wants to have a family and a real father – not a death legend he can’t touch. He wants a father who’s proud of him and stands up to him, telling the world ‘That’s my beloved son’. And let’s be honest, Severus: He’s more yours than my son. It is you who sits at his bedside when he’s sick. It was you who made his toy broomstick fly, it was you who comforted him when he had a nightmare and it’s you he comes to when he’s in trouble. I sired him – but you became his father. I’m death – you live. And he needs a living father.”

Hermione looked as if she’d like to stamp her foot. “I refuse!” she said firmly. “I won’t let my life and my decisions become dictated by biased, old-fashioned, silly people! If I ever marry Severus, then I’ll marry him becau lov love him and not because some idiots in Slytherin have a problem with us living out of wedlock.” Sitting down again, she added: “And with all due respect, Albus: I was once forced to marry against my will. I won’t have it a second time.”

“Was it so bad, Hermione?” Albus asked with a tender smile.

“You know it was not!” Looking up at him again, her voice became soft. “Just the contrary. You made me very happy and you gave me Leontes. But that …” and now her voice became firm again, “doesn’t change the fact that the principle is wrong.”

Severus sighed and so did Albus. Looking at each other Severus knew what the portrait thought – it was the same line he’d just swallowed.

It was Minerva who spoke it out loudly: “How Gryffindor of you, Hermione.”

Albus and Severus ned.ned.

Minerva didn’t look at them, but at Hermione. “I just find myself in agreement with your Slytherins, my dear. I think a principle isn’t worth a child’s happiness.”

“You think I should?” Hermione looked with big eyes at Minerva.

“It’s your decision, Hermione,” the old headmistress said.

“And that will do the trick,” Albus sounded amused. “If you decide to make it your decision it’s not against your Gryffindor’s principles anymore.”

“Oh, Albus – that’s Slytherin logic!” Hermione sighed.

Albus laughed. “Considered that the men in your life are all Slytherins, I think you’re use to Slytherin thinking by now.”

“Hmm …” Hermione still didn’t look very convinced. Studying the tip of her black boots again, she said with a small voice: “There’s one thing more …”

“Yes, Hermione?” Severus sat down next to her.

She didn’t look at him, but still at her shoes. “If I’m to become married again – I would like to get at least one proper proposal in my life!”

“I remember I proposed to you,” Albus reminded her.

“Oh yes!” Hermione still sounded sulky. “And wasn’t it romantic? You looked at me as if you’d rather send me back to my kinder garden! And Severus …” she looked at her smiling companion, “… actually the m-word is the best way to make him run. Start talking about marriage – the safest way to get rid off one Severus Snape. So it’s told at the university.”

“I think with Severus it depends on who talks about marriage.” Minerva smiled.

Severus grinned. “Right you are, dearest Minerva. If you would ever have asked me …”

“Oh sweet Merlin! I’d rather have kissed Albus!” Minerva cried.

“How flattering!” Albus commented. “You know, Severus, with a female Gryffindor you can be sure you’ll always get paid the nicest compliments.”

“Don’t be silly, Albus!” Minerva promptly rebuked him. “You know how I meant it. I never cared about men with so much hair.” Smiling at him and looking suddenly very young, she added mischievously: “If you’d have shaved and got yourself a proper haircut …”

Albus plaited his long beard and grinned at Severus who wore his now pretty long hair in a ponytail and had grew at least a short and already pretty grey beard too. “I know a hair cutting spell …” he offered.

“Thank you very much.” Hermione tugged lightly on Severus’ ponytail. “I just like his hair as it is!” Looking back at Minerva she said: “Considered Severus and I would marry and Severus would adopt Leontes – do you think it would help him to adapt in Slytherin?”

“Yes,” Minerva nodded.out out this I’m convinced. It would need a while until all rumours would get down and we’d surely had to use all our influence – on Leontes and his housemates – to avoid other scenes like the one two days ago, but I’m firmly convinced he’d feel better and less vulnerable then.”

“Hmm …” Hermione chewed for a moment on her bottom lip. Then she asked: “Minerva – is Augustus at home?”

Minerva looked at the watch on her desk. “At the moment he’s teaching. We have a new class for three years – social science for wizards. But Augustus will be ready with his sixth years in the next ten minutes.”

“Well,” Hermione said, “then I’ll think we’re in for a binding. If we have to do it, we can just get over with. Or what do you think, Severus?”

“Oh?” Severus was amused. He loved Hermione’s energy and quickness. Nevertheless he couldn’t resist teasing her. “I have a say in the matter?”

“Of course you have.” Hermione took his hand. “You know …” she became silent and looked in his eyes.

“I love you too, Hermione,” he said quietly. “But if I’m to marry I want to do it properly. I mean at least the proposing part.” He rose up and pulled the platinum ring with the snake from his finger. Going down on one knee, he took Hermione’s right hand where she still wore the ring Albus had given her. Severus pulled his wand out of his sleeve and directing it at the ring in his hand murmured an incantation. Then he took Hermione’s hand and looked in her eyes. “Hermione Granger-Dumbledore, you know I love you. Will you do me the honour to become my wife?”

Hermione had tears in her eyes. She looked for a second to the portrait of Albus, saw his smile, and sniffled, swallowed and said then, looking into Severus’ eyes: “Yes, Severus, I will.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Minerva jumped on her feet. “I’m so happy, children! I will immediately go and fetch Augs. As. And Leontes Beatus of course. And Harry. You know, Harry is here, Hermione? He just agreed a few days before to take over our infirmary – Poppy wants to retire soon. And what do you think about Dee Sprout as your second witness? You always liked her, Severus, didn’t you?” Without waiting for an answer, she swept out of the door.

Severus, who’d actually intended to kiss Hermione, fell down on his bottom. Looking up to the still smiling portrait he said: “You’re so lucky that you’re already death, Albus! If you were alive, I’d hex your balls off!”

“What have I done?” Albus looked immensely amused.

“You made me marry a Gryffindor – with Harry Potter as my witness!” Severus hissed, pronouncing every word. “And therefore you would deserve becoming hexed back to the middle age – without your balls!”

“What angry thoughts for a man who’s to marry in a few minutes!” Albus grinned. “If I were in your shoes, boy, I’d rather use the short time of engagement to kiss the bride. It’s your last chance for passionate out of-wedlock kisses, Severus.”

“Albus?” Severus rose up. “Could you do me a favour?”

“With pleasure, child. What can I do for you?” Albus asked.

“Just go visit the fat lady. Or go kissing Lady Morgaine or who ever you want – but don’t hang around here! Even in being dead you’re nerve shattering!”


The end


… Or isn’t it?

If nicely asked, I can perhaps bring myself to write a little epilogue … or should I rather work on my new story?



* We must do as the bees – Seneca, ep 84, 2