Of Days and Ends

Chapter 34—Spinner’s End



“Severus, a word.” The Dark Lord called as Snape passed the small library on the first floor.



Turning on his heel and occluding his mind, Snape came back to the doorway. He paused just outside of the frame with a deep bow. “My Lord.”



The Dark Lord didn’t answer for a moment or two. He flew up the wall to grab a book off the top shelf and landed gently. “Come sit with me.”



One of the Dark Lord’s many leadership skills was the ability to use the tone that each person most needed. The tone he used with Snape was gentle, fatherly, and almost safe. He knew better than to be lulled by his calm and lower his mental walls, and crossed the room to sit in the plush, emerald green, wingback chair across from the Dark Lord’s black wingback chair across a small coffee table. The top of the tiny, round table was chequered black and white marble and two armies of chess pieces stood ready to do battle.



“Perhaps a game?” Voldemort suggested.



“It would be my pleasure.” This, Snape meant genuinely. He was rarely allowed to exercise his mind on trivial pursuits. Besides, he thought, he had a competitive desire to compete with the infamous wizarding public enemy number one.



Each wizard reached forward and touched the tip of their wand to the carefully-figured heads of their kings. Immediately, each king turned, tapped the board with their sceptres, signalling every piece to rotate and bow behind them before settling back into their pre-determined poses.



“Good luck, Severus.” Voldemort said, ushering a pawn forward two spaces.



“Thank you, My Lord.”



“You won’t wish me luck?”



“You hardly need it.” Snape ushered a knight into motion.



Voldemort castled. “Thank you for providing your home to me.”



“It is hardly my home, My Lord. What is mine is yours. Surely you know that.” Snape took Voldemort’s pawn.



“I thank you. I only meant that I appreciate your hospitality.” Voldemort’s queen was on the move, moving gracefully and uninhibited across the board.



“There’s no hospitality involved. I’m hardly here.”



“And yet, that is exactly what I require.” They remained silent as the game progressed. Snape managed to collect Voldemort’s Bishop, Rook, Knight, and two Pawns. Voldemort had his two Knights and three Pawns.



As Snape took Voldemort’s Queen, he smiled. “Thank you for inviting me to this game of chess with you, My Lord.”



Voldemort waved him off. “It was not all I wanted you for.” Voldemort moved his Rook in a dangerous course with Snape’s Queen.



Snape ignored the chance to take such a powerful piece and added reinforcements to his own Queen.



“I received interesting news today.” Voldemort began to advance on the King that Snape had left with one Rook and one Bishop for protection. “That mudblood you taught for the last six years is separated from Potter and the bloodtraitor.”



Snape remained focused and calm, “Is she… acting alone?”



“No. We believe that she may have been sent away, but the most useful information is that she is pregnant.”



“Pregnant?” Snape furrowed his brows. “Which boy fathered it?”



“We are unsure.”



Snape moved his Queen from her protected position. “Check.”



“Excuse me?” Voldemort snapped.



Snape pointed at the board, “Check, My Lord.”



“Ah…” Voldemort silently refocused on the game. His King moved one square to the right.



Snape shifted his Queen back to add reinforcements to the King. “The girl has weakened herself significantly.”



“No, Severus. She has strengthened herself considerably.”



“My Lord?”



“The child’s magic is her own.” Voldemort pointed to the book he had pulled from the shelves. “She will be much more powerful than she was. However, this could be very convenient for us.”



“This sounds very unlike the mudblood, My Lord.”



“Indeed. Previous reports had her pegged as a bit of a prude, but the bastard’s existence has been verified.”



Snape bristled inwardly. “That’s excellent, My Lord.”



“And it must die.”



“The…child, My Lord?” Severus felt sick.



“Yes.”



If you want to kill her, a plan will have to be set in motion to lure her out of the secret-kept Order Headquarters.”



“How,” Voldemort asked, “did you know she was at Order Headquarters?”



“Where else is she to go? Check.”



“Very intuitive, Severus.”



“Thank you, My Lord.”



Voldemort focused on the board for a long moment. “I don’t want to kill her.” He saved his King by sacrificing his Rook to Snape’s Queen.



“Check.”



“I want you to brew an abortive poison. I have someone who will slip it in her drink.”



Snape’s blood ran cold.



“How long would such a poison take to brew?”



Snape gathered his wits and shoved Hermione firmly from his mind. He would pretend they were talking about Bellatrix. Heaven forbid Lestrange should procreate. “Three hours for the simplest varieties and 6 hours for the sterilizing sort.” He still couldn’t stop his fear. “But, My Lord, may I make an alternate suggestion?”



Voldemort’s eyes narrowed and his hairless brows knit together. “Speak.”



“What if we were to give her time to have the child and ween it off her milk, then we could kidnap it while it still is in its most formative years and socialize it into your bodyguard and best, most loyal Death Eater. Then, as soon as the child can properly kill with his wand, we send him to kill his mother and father. I’m sure we’ll know from which boy the little whore got pregnant by then.”



“You expect me to wait years to defeat Potter? And if the boy is Potter’s? I won’t let him kill Potter in my stead.” Voldemort moved his King over one space. “You will create the abortive poison.”



Snape shuddered, “Yes, My Lord.”



The two men focused once again on the game until Severus had been moved into a trap. “Check.” The Dark Lord whispered. Snape managed to escape it, but a moment later, the Dark Lord moved his last Bishop into place. “Check mate.” The madman rose as his bishop approached Snape’s kneeling King and chopped his head off. Snape caught the rolling piece before it fell off of the table.



“Don’t go soft on me, Severus.” The Dark Lord said before bending low by Snape’s ear. “And just know that if you challenge me—” He plucked Snape’s King’s head up from his palm, holding the piece between their faces as an example. “—you will always lose.”



“Have no fear, My Lord. I have never had designs for your power, nor have I forgotten that it was by your side that I have learned secrets unimaginable. Albus has always had his secrets, but Albus never shared.”



“No, he did not.” Voldemort began to leave the room, but stopped short. “I’ll expect the abortive poison tomorrow evening, Severus.”



“Yes, My Lord. Goodnight, My Lord.” Left alone, Snape stared at their chess battlefield with a sense of defeat. His eyes landed on his Queen, still intact with a few other pieces. Life was not a chess game. It didn’t matter who won. So long as his queen survived.



He tapped his wand to the ring, bidding it to only warm gently. He didn’t want to leave a message. He would talk to her in the morning.



Hermione snapped up in the dark. Sitting up very still and straight to listen in the dark. Something had awoken her. She looked down at her hand where the ring was warming. Sliding it off her finger, she read, “Don’t wake up. Sleep well. Dream that it is I warming this ring instead of a spell.” She felt a sleepy smile grace her face. Ironically, he hadn’t wanted to wake her. In fact, he didn’t appear to have wanted her to get the message. She had had to rotate the ring six times to read the entire message.



She lay awake in the dark, imagining Snape’s arm around her waist for nearly an hour. She tried to convince herself that the low thrum of Ginny’s breathing was his and turned toward the wall to aid the illusion. When an idea suddenly occurred to her, she lifted her wand off her bedside table and cleared her mind. When she was ready, she touched the wand to the ring and allowed herself to fall into a deep slumber.



Snape hadn’t really been sleepy as he lay in his bedroom at Spinner’s End. He always found it difficult to sleep when the Dark Lord was only two rooms away, but, quite suddenly, his wariness turned to exhaustion and sleep began to descend upon him, but more peculiarly, a vibrantly-coloured dream began to take form.



“Severus?”



He would recognize that voice anywhere. He turned around to see Hermione walking up to him wearing her school uniform. She looked so beautiful and so sexy. “Hermione.” He offered a hand to her and she took it. “Where are we?”



“The Burrow,” she gestured to his left, “Is just over that swell.”



“The Burrow? The Burrow is destroyed.”



“Surely you didn’t expect for them to just leave it so after the war was over did you?”



“Surely not.” He rumbled thoughtfully.



“Besides, it looks better now than it ever did before.” She laughed, and he thought she had never sounded so happy before. He suddenly craved this happy Hermione. “Percy calls it the Weasley Manor. He’s just as stuck-up as ever. Everyone else just calls it the Burrow still. I must admit that it seems to be lacking a Burrowesque feel now.”



He looked at the smile on her face and didn’t want to spoil it for her, so he allowed her to lead him over the hill. On the opposite side of the crest, they paused to look down on the whitewashed face of the burrow which no longer looked like a precariously built shanty, but rather like an old Victorian-era manor. On the front lawn, Snape counted ten red heads moving around the yard. All nine Weasleys survived and one managed to reproduce? What were the odds?



When he stopped short, she turned back, “What’s wrong, Severus?”



“Hermione. I’m dreaming, love, and I can’t afford to get my hopes up too high. What if the war doesn’t turn out like this at all. You have to be ready for that. You have to be prepared. We mustn’t dwell—”



“What? But it is like this. Look around you!”



Snape did and shivered at the sheer perfection of it all. He certainly did hope it turned out like this for her sake, but he had never known such a day to exist. He didn’t believe such a day could exist. “Even if the Dark Lord was defeated, I can’t just walk down that hill and party with the Weasleys! They hate me and they’ll revile me—and you! Guilt by association! Molly and Arthur were only six years ahead of me in school. I remember how hot-headed they can be—and relentlessly unforgiving!”



“Severus! Calm down. They will accept you because I accept you and—love you. If for no other reason… Listen, if we go down that hill and they disparage us in any way, I will set them straight and we leave. It may take some time—The Weasleys are a stubborn lot—and there may be some tears, but they are like my family and I know they’ll come around.” She started to walk again.



Snape grabbed her arm. “Hermione, look!” He pointed towards the horizon and she frowned. Dark clouds rolled in the distance and began to obscure the sun. Gusty winds kicked her hat off her head and Snape caught it quickly. An ominous feeling overtook the dream. This was more the type of dream he was used to. “We need to find cover!” Snape shouted over the winds which were beginning to howl around them.



Hermione gasped as she looked back down on the Burrow, once again the ruins that it was during Voldemort’s reign of terror. This time, it was Snape’s turn to usher her along, and she followed in his wake with tears flying from her eyes. The gusty winds flicked the moisture away before they could cling to her skin and form rivulets of despair. The rain started to pour just as they entered the battered living room. It looked like it might collapse in a few places, but Snape assured her that he had reinforced the angled walls.



“Our son is sleeping below.” She pointed to a cellar door. Her demeanor appeared to change. “Have you any news, Severus?” Snape looked around at the surroundings and as his attention turned back to her he took in her appearance. She looked haggard in a tattered, black set of woollen robes. They were open in the front and beneath she wore a long skirt and a high-buttoning shirt. Her hair looked as though it had returned to the bushiness of her first year, and there was something dead in her eyes.



“The Dark Lord is giving all muggleborns the opportunity to leave the country next week without punishment.” He continued quickly over her look of delight. “I think it’s a trap. He just wants to lure them all to the designated international portkey location and portkey them to the middle of the ocean or something like that.”



She blanched. “He said that?”



“No, but it would be like him, wouldn’t it.”



“Oh!” She began to sink back with exhaustion and defeat, and Snape caught her in his arms.



“I’ll get you out of here. Both of you… don’t worry.”



“Will you come?”



He didn’t answer. He simply took up her arms over his shoulders and said, “Dance with me.”



She smiled and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, “Da da dum... da da dum… da da dum… bop bop bop…” She began to hum and he closed his eyes as he pressed his lips against her neck. She giggled and he opened his eyes to look down at her. Her eyes were lined in black, her cheeks a delicate rose, her complexion bronzed, and her eyes a glittering chestnut. The bushy mane was gone and replaced by a silky, curly updo that tickled his nose.



She was smiling and pulled away from him to twirl out with the delicate concerto. She was wearing her beautiful pink dress from the Yule Ball in her fourth year. Snape looked around him. Fleur, Krum, Cedric, Potter, a jealous Weasley… Yes, it was definitely the Yule Ball. He looked down at himself. And saw the black robes he had chosen to wear.



He was suddenly alone in the dream and he watched Hermione led by Victor Krum around the dance floor. He was a bit of a clutz on the ground, but managed to dance well enough, twirling Hermione gracefully. Hermione whirled in his arms with wild abandon, enjoying every step.



The music began to become distant and Snape remembered that he was dreaming. He walked across the dance floor, wanting to do what he had recently been wanting for quite a while. He stopped Hermione’s dance with Krum, turned her around, taking her in his arms, and kissing her soundly in front of everyone. She fell into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck, and the music stopped.



“Hermione…” He opened his eyes and stared into her brown orbs until a pale shadow in the background caught his attention. He raised his eyes to look beyond her and his stomach jumped into his throat, Voldemort stood in the middle of the Great Hall watching them.



Snape’s eyes snapped open in his dark bedroom and focused on the face of Voldemort staring at him from less than a foot away. Years of practice and experience made it easy to slam up his Occlumantic walls and the only thing that betrayed his fear was a flaring of his nostrils and dilating of his pupils.



“Hmm… very interesting, Severus.” The Dark Lord said, piercing the silence of the dark bedroom. He was quiet for a few moments as he squatted before Snape in thought, “Come.”



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A/N: Thanks!