A Wizard's Debt

Hermione







I stood chatting with Marcia while we waited for Severus and Xhi to return to the wedding reception; a stifling hot room and a lack of any sustenance once the anti-morning sickness potion had worn off, had caused Narcissa to faint. Luckily, Draco caught her, and Poppy (as a guest) was in the room. Narcissa was in desperate need of a safe potion to get the essential nutrients into her and the baby – and both Severus and Zhi had promptly vanished into the lab.



“You should be dancing, dearie – you’ve changed into your ballet shoes.” The older woman said, smoothing down the back of the dress.



“The first dance is for Severus.” I said, sitting down to watch everyone else having fun, with their spouses.



“There must be a dozen Potion Masters and Mistresses in this room! Goodness knows, Severus should be in here with you.” She said, not mentioning her own husband was AWOL.



“The Malfoys are his true and trusted friends, they’ve always been there for him, and he for them – this is no different. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I said, pleased that Severus would drop everything to help someone, even if I was a little lonely.



“I suppose, I get used to Zhi vanishing into his lab – the only problem with marrying a Potion’s Master is that they love their work first – you’re like the ‘other woman’ in a relationship. Though, it keeps the spice, like an illicit affair our of a romance novel.” Marcia said, sighing dramatically before laughing.



“Have I caused amusement?” the little Chinese man asked, twiddling his long moustache as he came toward us. He wore a traditional Chinese wizarding dress robe; a long, light silk fitted coat with a high collar, a huge belt around his waist, a sheathed katana by his leg. It was a stunning blood red fabric with silver dragons embroidered over it. If Voldemort had hired Marcia to dress his Death Eaters, then they’d have looked a lot more terrifying! Zhi’s clothing was a silent reminder that the calm and quiet little man, who always smiled was a powerful wizard and deadly with his sword as well as his wand.



“Definitely, love… how is she?”



“She fairs better now, Severus will be along shortly. The elder Malfoy dare not leave her side.” He said, taking the seat next to me and taking my hand. “He has not forgotten about you, he will arrive shortly.”



Marcia scowled at the door to the Great Hall, “Who is that person, staring at... Draco? Is that his name?... I haven't seen him since he was in nappies... She looks like she’s going to kill him!”



I craned my neck to see what Marcia was speaking of, “That’s Pansy Parkinson, she was Draco’s intended before he married Oliver…”



“Parkinson… her Mother owes me for a set of robes, plus interest!” Marcia grumbled.



Lucius, Narcissa and Severus came back into the room, one man either side of her as she told them to let go, that she was stable and wasn’t going to faint again.



“Fainting does not qualify as stable!” Lucius hissed, wrapping his arm around her waist to support her further.



“Let go! Lucius, Severus. I am perfectly capable of walking unaided.” She grumbled, aware the entire room were staring at her.



“A pregnant witch, is a very dangerous witch. Don’t. Argue.” Arthur said in a stage whisper to the trio, “Do as she says – trust me! I know!”



“Gentlemen! That potion works wonders – goodness knows I drank cauldrons of it! Let her sit down for a while and get her bearings! She’s not made of fine china! She can manage without you if she says so!” Molly said, marching up to Lucius, Severus and Arthur before taking Narcissa’s arm and escorting her to a comfortable seat. They were soon into an avid pregnancy-based conversation; but nevertheless, Lucius stood to his wife’s side gently holding her hand.



“Severus Snape!” Narcissa exclaimed, turning pale blue eyes on him in anger, “You ran off to help me and utterly forgot about your wife!! She’s sat twelve feet away! And she looks miserable! Leave the fussing and fretting to Lucius and go dance with her!”



Severus took Arthur’s advice, not disagreeing with Narcissa before walking over to me.



I thought he looked handsome at the temple, but now he looked incredible; black trousers, creased perfectly down the centres accented his long legs; his outer robe was long gone to reveal a dark green silk waistcoat with lighter green detail embroidered onto it; a crisp white shirt lay underneath, the top three buttons undone, the sleeves haphazardly rolled to the elbows for brewing; his cravat lay draped around his neck, undone.



I looked up in awe at this vision, stalking toward me.



“I do apologise, but I would not have anyone else brew her potions, for fear of poisoning, there are many who would spite Lucius through his wife...” he began, but I silenced him with my three middle fingers over his soft lips.



“I understand, I love how you’d stop everything to help someone, I wouldn’t want to see Narcissa or the baby hurt.” I said, standing up on tip toes (glad of my ballet shoes) to gently kiss his cheek. “Dance with me?” I asked, a little sheepish.



“Of course, if I do not I shall have the Weasley Army, Potter, Marcia and Narcissa hexing me for ignoring my wife.” He smiled, shaking his head – unaware that the floating candles shimmered in the shining obsidian mass of his hair. Pachabel’s cannon in D began, a song we both liked, it had no words to associate a situation to, and was simply a beautiful piece of music.



Severus gently twirled me around the cleared space, albeit an hour-and-a-half too late for society’s standards; but our wedding had begun oddly, so for it to continue thus made sense. He was a graceful dancer, his feet were never in the wrong place, his grip on my waist light, his palm dry in my clammy one.



“You dance really well.” I said, enjoying having a partner on the dance floor.



“Narcissa insisted I learn for their wedding, when she was trying to match me with some of her socialite friends, she took it upon herself to teach me.” He turned me into another step, the full skirt billowing out brilliantly, “You also dance well.”



“I’ve been dancing since I was tiny – I even dug out my ballet shoes for you, I intend on dancing all night…” Well, not all night, but I left that unsaid while a little shiver of trepidation ran down my spine.



“Even with my lateness to the dance floor, the night is still young.” He said, smiling.



“Severus, there is something I’d like to know…”



“Yes?”



“Michael?” I hid a grin in his chest as he brought be close to him as the music closed.



“My Father was a muggle, Tobias was a name handed down from eldest son to their son for seven generations; Michael was the name of my uncle – he died a few weeks before I was born, he and my father were said to be very close.”



“Oh.” I said, wondering if we had a son (though, hoping the Ministry wouldn’t work out what condoms were for a while), weather he would be named Tobias. Surely it was a tradition that wouldn’t hurt… “But, your name is Severus, and you have no siblings…”



“Tobias Richard Snape died aged three months old from illness, he would have been two years my elder, Severus was my Grandfather’s name – on my Mother’s side.” He said, bowing slightly before offering his arm and escorting me to the seats at the edge.



“I’m sorry.” I said.



“Do not be, I cannot mourn someone I did not know – though I wonder if his death was what drove my Father into a drunk, abusive rage… but what is in the past stays there.” He smiled a little, grabbing two empty (but clean) champagne flutes from a passing house elf, filling them both with water from a jug another elf walked past carrying.



“The past, stays in history – to the future.” He whispered, raising his glass in a private toast.



“To the future.” I said back softly, touching my glass to his.