Angelica's Sorrow

A/N


Shiv - thank you so much for your support. I can\'t say that I have a story lined up, but I do have a few ideas rng ang around. If I can make them work, I\'ll try.

azulkan2 - Salazar was indeed not a nice person. Thank you for reading.

Jess - I\'m glad you liked most of it anyway. Thank you.

Midnight Tiger - I\'m sorry I made you cry - you may want to skip this chapter.

Deb - Thought I\'d lost you there for awhile - glad you stayed around for the end. Thanks.

Princess - Thank you so much for the kind complements. I\'ll try.



Epilogue



\'Can\'t believe I\'m still doing this. It\'s not like she can hear me. Probably should go see Potter\'s therapist. Must be a bloody miracle worker to have straightened him out. This is absolutely the very last time. No more.\'

The scent of blooming lilacs met his nose while cresting the top of the hill on his family estate. She once told him it was her favorite flower and when questioned why, she had said, \"Maybe because they\'re here for such a brief time.\" He made sure the area was surrounded by them and each spring they brought forth an abundance of scent. They fitted his memories of her, old fashioned with sturdy branches ending in delicate flowers.

He approached her pristine marker and was again pleased by the symmetry. A copy of the Muggle portrait had been magically engraved at the top, so that any who came here would see the beauty of her soul in the eyes. Her name below, Angelica Marie Woodmont and then a simple inscription, Beloved Wife, Mother, Grandmother and Treasured Friend. There were no dates listed to mar her memory, she was timeless and would remain so.

A sigh was brought forth as he sat down in the black wrought iron bench. It had been placed so anyone sitting there would meet those eyes and he never tired of looking, always somehow hoping for an answer.

\"I sometimes wonder, my dear Angelica, if you weren\'t a witch after all. Did you place a spell on me in those last few days? What else would explain my continued treks to your grave side? I\'ve never felt the compulsion to visit any others as I do yours merely to spill the often dreary mundaneness of my mortal existence to a captive audience.\"

He arose and paced around the marker, putting his back to it, looking across the valley to his family home.

\"I hope you don\'t mind that I placed you on this hill, away from the others. This is where I plan to lie someday so you won\'t always be alone. Many things have occurred since I spoke to you last. Hermione finally agreed to marry me just last week after the leaving feast. It only took ten bloody years. The wedding is in two months. Too bad I didn\'t get you to agree to wait. You would have fussed and moaned the whole time wouldn\'t you? Oh, the arguments we could have had.\"

Turning around he started pacing from one row of lilacs to another.

\"Do you remember Mr. Potter? He\'s caused quite a stir in the wizarding world lately. The DADA school for adults he created is quite a rousing success. He wants me, of all people, to join his staff. Never thought I\'d see the day. You know, of course, he married a few years ago. He and - I believe her name is Sarah, had a child this last fall. A boy they named James Sirius. At least I won\'t have to teach him or any of the Weasley-Malfoys potions. That delightful task will fall to Hermione no matter what. She\'s leaving Cuisinar\'s Potion Supplies and becoming the Potions Mistress at Hogwarts. I have to decide, Angelica. Stay at Hogwarts or go with Potter.\"

The pacing slowed and he crumpled slowly onto the bench.

\"I haven\'t told you the latest because it\'s very hard to relay.\" He stopped speaking to clear his throat and then continued softly, \"Albus died yesterday and therein lies my dilemma. Minerva wishes me to remain as Assistant Headmaster. I don\'t know that I can tolerate walking those halls with him absent. Hermione says she will be satisfied with whatever will make me happiest, but how am I to know what that will be?\"



Evening had fallen by the time Severus returned. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and met him at the door of his quarters.

\"I was getting a little worried. You\'ve never been there this long before.\"

\"There was a lot I had to decide and it\'s always quiet there.\"

\"Did you - decide?\"

\"No, not yet. Minerva doesn\'t require an answer until she meets with the Board of Governors next week.\"

\"Are you hungry?\"

\"No, I just wish to retire,\" he said, walking toward the bedroom, unbuttoning his jacket.

Blessed sleep, however, refused to grace him with its presence. Hermione had fallen under its spell several hours ago and he envied her a bit. A faint chime from another room caught his attention and he carefully slipped out of bed. Hurriedly dressing, he grabbed his wand and sprinted to the Astronomy Tower. It had started without him, but hadn\'t reached the climax. Mid way through the storm he felt a pair of arms clasp him about the waist. He pulled her around to stand in front of him, enclosing her in his robes.

\"Thought you could sneak out and have the storm all to yourself, huh?\"

\"I didn\'t wish to disturb you.\"

\"Your not being there is enough to disturb me.\"

They watched the rest of the storm in silence, comforted by the fact that some things were eternal and would never change.



Three days after the funeral Minerva asked him to write something to place on Albus\' marker. She didn\'t want a list of his accomplishments or awards. Something personal. Since the marker covered the grave itself from head to toe, there should be enough room for this. Yes, it would do. He gathered his wand and the parchment he had labored upon and went to find her.

She was still in her old office, gathering what would be taken with her. Minerva looked up as Severus entered and silently handed her the parchment. Quickly reading, she nodded her head and handed it back.

\"Do you wish to accompany me?\" he asked gently, noting the new tears tracking her face.

\"No. It\'s beautiful and I do want to see it, but later. Not yet.\"

\"I understand,\" he said, turning to leave. \"If Hermione returns before I do, please, let her know where to find me.\"

\"Of course.\"

After passing through the gates he apparated directly to the cemetery outside Hogsmeade. Approaching the marker he realized he had decided.

\"You win again, old man. I\'ll remain and Hogwarts will continue as long as it\'s in my power.\"



Hermione found him there several hours later. He had placed an identical wrought iron bench beside the grave and was sitting quietly when she appeared.

\"Hermione, where do you think the rose bushes should go? I\'ve been trying to decide and think one on each side near the top would be enough.\"

\"What does Minerva say?\"

\"I haven\'t asked her yet, but I don\'t think she\'ll object.\"

\"Have you decided?\"

Severus didn\'t pretend to misunderstand her and answered, \"Yes. I\'m afraid Mr. Potter will need to find another instructor. After all, with another Gryffindor in charge, I know I\'ll be needed.\"

\"I\'m glad. There\'s something new on the marker, what is it?\"

\"Only a poem Minerva wanted.\"

Crossing to the foot, she read what had taken him hours to inscribe.


The Tapestry of my life changed again today.
A hole appeared in the midst of the pattern
And unraveled a little ways.
I backtracked a bit and picked up a thread
That looked to have been sliced short.
This was no minor thread weaving in and out,
But a heavy, strong thread that ran way back
Before my beginning in time.

It\'s a thread I had depended upon
And was woven quite thickly
Throughout the design.
Always steady, always loved, always there.
I tried to hold it tight in my hand,
To stretch it a bit farther down.
It thinned and it pulled as I tried to extend
The thread farther down in the loom.

I looked farther back on the pattern
Where the thread ran around and through.
It shimmered and ran all the way back
And I knew it couldn\'t thin any more.
It flowed round other holes in my pattern
And helped strengthen the blanket of life.
As I touched different spots I remembered
The laughter, the tears and the joy.

I let the thread slip from my fingers
As tears slid from my eyes.
I could not hold this thread any longer
But Oh, how I wanted to try.
It was tired and worn and gave me its all
And I could not ask for more.
My pattern will hold but it\'s darker now
For that thread had a light all its own.


\"Where did she find it? It\'s beautiful.\"

\"She didn\'t say. Come, it\'s starting to get dark and I\'m looking forward to dinner for the first time in several days,\" he said as he rose, gathered her firmly in his arms and apparated them both back to the gates of the school.

A few butterflies caressed the words he left behind and the wind brushed a few leaves aside that dared to fall. A gentle rain began and the words on the marker darkened with nature\'s tears.



A/N - the poem is actually one I wrote when my brother died last February, but I don\'t mind lending it to Albus. Somehow it fits. Thank you for reading - it\'s been an enjoyable journey.