Outside the Potions Classroom

Outside the Potions Classroom




Chapter Five

After an unsettling visit with Granger, he felt his resolve tighten. Who did she think she was? And more importantly, who did she think he was – someone who would take it lying down? She was playing the wrong sort of game with the wrong sort of person.

While he was unsure of how to exactly proceed, he knew he had to wrong her as much as she had wronged him. He didn’t think it could be too hard, especially after hearing what his son felt in regards to the way his mother handled the situation. He was honest with her though, and himself – despite her lack of involving the father, she had raised their son well.

One thing he knew for certain, he would deal with her later. He had to make the necessary arrangements for his son.

Hearing how the boy desired a father had tugged at his heartstrings. Despite what people thought, the great big greasy git, the overgrown bat of the dungeons, the evil Potions dictator had a heart, and it beat as strongly as anyone else’s. Its capacity for feelings and emotions were slightly smaller than the average person, but one does not commit themselves to playing a double agent without losing some compassion towards others. He had to admit, even if only to himself, he was excited at the prospect of having an heir. Even if his savings were small, knowing that the Snape name lived on and that he could be remembered when the dust of his bones scattered to the wind was enough for him. Who knew such things could bring contentment. Perhaps what he had read in that silly psychology magazine was true, most males sought a smaller version of themselves.

So he headed to his solicitor. The older wizard was up at all hours of the night for his clients. Most lawyers were, how else could they make money but by being at the disposal of their clientele? So when Severus flooed his office, he had no apologies for his timing. He wanted it done and he wanted it done now.

His will now named Hadrian as his heir, which entitled him to the keys to his account at Gringotts, as well as Snape Manor. The house was old and in all likelihood empty, his father having driven away the House-elves in an insane drunken rage forty years ago or so, but it was carefully locked up and safe. He also set up a fund to pay for his son’s future education, should he choose to further his studies at university. As he understood it, Granger was paying half of their son’s Hogwarts education – Dumbledore had given Hadrian a bursary for the rest. He thanked his solicitor and with a swish of his robes, he flooed back to Hogwarts.

The next day, he Apparated to Hogsmeade to buy some flowers before he Apparated to St. Mungos. He knew from past experiences that if he didn’t bring his mother something on a visit, it would turn unpleasant even more quickly than necessary. Whereas he sought a short audience with her, whatever pleasantness he could get, he would take.

St. Mungos was actually not the place his mother wished to be, but because she lacked the capability to take care of herself, had an inability to tolerate more than discreet House-elves and was generally irritable, he had little recourse. He couldn’t afford to send her to one of the spa-like elder wizarding communities she wanted – not on his salary anyway. She liked to point this out often, and he would quickly respond that had she been more prudent with their finances, she would have been able to afford such luxuries.

When he arrived at the Elder ward, he was immediately ushered in by the mediwitch in charge, Madame Sagehedge. Sagehedge had been there for years, long before his mother was admitted and probably long after his mother would die; she had the ability to ignore the bitterness around her and see the world as a glass half-full. Not an easy task given her surroundings.

The ward had gotten smaller since his last visit; there were only ten beds this time. His mother was in the corner, as per her request, and as usual, she was at the window. Not that she could see out of it – she liked the sound of the birds and the other patients in the courtyard, the feel of the wind and the sun. She appreciated it now that she could not see it. Years before he would never have caught her staring out the window into the day, she had been too busy.

“Severus.” She knew his walk, his smell. Her tone was rough.

“Mother.” He made no move to kiss her cheek or touch her in anyway. “I brought you some flowers.”

“Bring them closer so I can smell them.”

He held the bouquet of lilies before her and watched her breath deep. “Oh. They smell quite strong, it would probably be better to put them over by the Mudblood’s bed.” She gestured to another bed in the distance. “She’ll probably think she has a secret admirer and I can at least have the pleasure of a good laugh.”

Oh, his mother. Marianna Snape was a cold woman. Her unseeing eyes were almost as white as her long blanched hair now. Her pale complexion was painted with lines, but if she didn’t speak she would not seem to be seventy-two years old. He threw the flowers aside and took a seat on the edge of her bed closest to her. “So how are you today?”

“Who cares? I’m older than the last time you asked. Why are you here? It’s not my birthday or Christmas. Unless I am senile, and then you should stop visiting. I’d rather not be upset if I were.”

“You are not senile. I have news for you.”

“You’ve finally found a good pureblood woman to bear you an heir?”

Nail, hit on the head. Well, in a matter of speaking. “Sort of. I have recently discovered I have fathered an illegitimate son.”

Her face hardened. “Another Snape bastard. Your grandfather wouldn’t be pleased. How old is the boy? Who is his mother?”

“His name is Hadrian, and he is eleven. I only discovered his existence because he will be one of my students.”

“And the whore?”

“Not a whore, a former…lover,” he had to bite out that word, but it fit. “A former student of mine. Very intelligent, not very sensible. She failed to inform me of her pregnancy as to not obligate me.”

His mother snorted. “Silly chit. How dare she? Stealing your seed, I daresay. I hear much about this new sort of woman, so indecent. They whore themselves in men’s beds to create heirs only to use the children for their own purposes. When I was younger, witches were refined and had a responsibility to society. Now who cares about anything?” She sighed. “Who is she?”

“Hermione Granger.”

“Granger…Granger…I know that name,” his mother gasped as the pieces came together. “Potter’s Mudblood friend! Are you beyond daft!? I’ve heard about that freak of the wizarding world, that…oh for Merlin’s sake, how could you rut with her of all witches? Mudbloods are only good for scratching an itch – you remember the contraceptive spell! Horrible! Vile! Disgusting! The Snape name, pure for six hundred years, tarnished by an abomination!”

She was screaming now, he could see Madame Sagehedge looking over with concern and raising her wand, but he shook his head at her, if only to get some more time. “I felt it prudent for you to know you had a grandson. That is all.”

“You horrible, thoughtless dunderhead. How dare you come here with such news? Do you care for your heritage at all? Such a disgrace. How could you have come out of me?” She was wailing now, and Severus’s patience was wearing painfully thin. “How could you do this to me? How could you come here with such news and act so casually? How can you call yourself my son? Flesh of my flesh, and yet you disappoint me every time. I wish I had never opened my legs for your bastard father. I swear-”

“Stop.” He stood abruptly. “I came here to tell you that the Snape name would continue. It matters not who his mother is, the Snape bloodline is strong and will overcome. She is powerful for a Muggleborn, and Hadrian will be too. Stop being so overdramatic.”

“Overdramatic, my arse,” she huffed, folding her arms under her breasts. “I suppose that is some consolation, or I will have to find it as such. I am still disappointed, but you can always conceal the boy’s heritage with our own name. No one needs to know he is Halfblood. But he must be powerful and must succeed, it is the Snape way, even if it has skipped your generation and your father’s. You must promise me that you will make him the most powerful Slytherin of this age.”

He knew the ship was beyond saving when she said it. “I’m afraid I cannot promise that, Mother.”

“And why is that?!” she demanded.

“Because he was sorted into Hufflepuff,” he answered simply.

For a woman who claimed she was nothing like her disgraceful son, she sure picked the wrong time to faint.



Tbc.