Forgiveness

Thanks to Jilliane and Ultrazipped for your continued support of this story. I hope you enjoy the next installment.

This chapter beta'ed by Drusilla of Perfect Imagination.

Forgiveness

Chapter 6

Brick walked them to a white clapboard cottage with a long, low porch complete with porch swing. The older man released the wards, showing Stella, with a flourish that belied his age, how it was done. Joseph Pony entered and sank to a tattered couch wearily. Brick said to Severus, “The furniture was left over from the last Potions Master we had. Wasn't much for being next to godliness, if you know what I mean. Loved the ladies, no matter what their condition.”

“Joseph Pony, get up now,” Severus barked. “We need to clean before we can relax.”

Stella pulled a face as she entered one of the bedrooms off the hallway. “It smells like ass in here.”

Brick remained silent as the other two male voices were raised in outrage, “Stella!”

“Well, it does,” the girl harumphed as she continued her exploration. Joseph Pony caught Severus eye and a moment of like-minded horror passed between them. Stella's voice came from down the hall, muffled by the walls, “This room's mine. It has a built-in dresser and desk, and it's my favourite colours! Look, Daddy.”

Severus nodded to the older wizard and excused himself. “What is it, my dear?”

&*&*&

Severus had not been confident in his ability to cast the necessary cleansing charms, so he had sent Joseph Pony into town for bleach, scouring powder and gloves. The boy was also instructed to get something nutritious for them to eat at a local restaurant they had passed on the way up to the compound. The boy returned with pizza. When Severus had objected, Joseph Pony had grumbled in indignation, “What? I got the supreme, it's got onions, bell peppers and two kind of olives. Those are vegetables.”

“We must not forget the tomato sauce, as well,” Severus snipped. “And are you counting the spices, also? Garlic is most certainly a plant.”

The boy gave him a good-natured “go-to-hell” look and Severus felt inexplicably light-hearted. He smirked back and with a lift of his brow, sat the pizza box on the newly-cleansed cabinet. “Tomorrow, I will go to the local green-grocer to get some proper food,” he said, looking at Joseph Pony out of the corner of his eye.

“They got a super Wal-mart in Poteau,” Joseph Pony volunteered. “It's twenty-four hours.”

Severus grunted noncommittally. “Just what we need.”

They ate at the now scoured formica and chrome table and Severus finished cleaning the kitchen and bathroom the Muggle way. He did it as thoroughly as his mother had taught him all those years ago.

Stella began running a fever and sniffling as they moved the last of their possessions from the caravan to the house. At Severus' insistence, Joseph Pony retrieved the feverfew he had obtained that day and began preparing the Fever-Rid potion. Severus sent the girl to the bath as he prepared her bed for her. He transfigured sheets from the ones she had used on the cot in the caravan. He wished he had time to launder or at least charm them to cleanliness before she had to use them. He felt thrice damned as she entered the room and sank onto the bed, her cheeks rosy from the fever. “Daddy, stay here with me, please.”

She coughed and sniffled until her eyes drooped and she fell into a fitful slumber. Severus smoothed her hair and leaned down to kiss her cheek. Even though neither of his parents had ever done that for him, he had watched Lucius make the same gesture to Draco over the years. He felt it was an appropriate gesture for a father to make.

Joseph Pony came to the door. “Hey, Uncle 'Rus, that woman is here. I set the potion under a stasis charm so I can watch Stella while you talk to her.”

Severus' cheeks felt hot as he passed the boy. He was unused to such open displays of affection and the embarrassment he felt was compounded by the knowing smile on the boy's face. Severus scrubbed his hand over his face, wishing he had time to freshen up before having to face the harridan again. He damned the woman for her timing.

“I just came to apologise about this morning. I was completely in the wrong, and would like a chance to attempt to start over.” Doctor Dance was sitting on a small built-in seat in the room's bay window. She stood as he entered.

“Hello, Russell Spane, I'm Doctor Antonia Dance.” She held out a small gift bag. Severus quirked his brow as he stared down at her extended hand. She said, “It's just a little house-warming gift.”

“Thank you.” He placed the gift, unopened, on the mantle to the gas-burning fireplace without another glance. “Is that all that you wanted to discuss?”

The woman inclined her head, the gesture oddly bird-like in its suddenness. “I'll need you to meet me tomorrow morning at eight in the main building so I can set the wards to accept you.”

“Uh, Uncle 'Rus?” Joseph Pony said from the doorway. “Stella's breaking out in red bumps and I think her fever is higher.”

The doctor asked, “May I see her?”

“If it is no imposition.” Severus inclined his head slightly.

Joseph Pony and the doctor followed him down the dingy hall to Stella's room, a confection of pale lavender and lemon-yellow, and Severus had transfigured the quilt to match. Joseph Pony murmured something about finishing the fever potion, but Severus' attention was solely on Stella who seemed to be struggling for breath. He had never in his life felt so helpless as the doctor pushed past him and sat on the edge of the bed. She asked in a soft voice, “Hi, honey. Can I do a few tests to see what's wrong with you?”

Stella nodded, her eyes dull and her expression listless. The doctor turned to Severus. “Mr. Spane, why don't you sit beside her while I do this? It might be less alarming for her that way.”

Severus positioned himself next to the girl and took her hand awkwardly. It was dry and hot to the touch, feeling like the underside of a cooling cauldron.

“Okay, honey, there are going to be some lights and a little tickling sensation. You'll need to hold very still,” said the doctor. Severus watched with interest as the woman employed tests he had seen Poppy Pomfrey use hundreds of times on students and himself over the years. The woman's bird-like concentration turned inward, just as Poppy's had on those occasions.

Severus tried to interpret the information the doctor processed, but had never seen the colours that answered the wand work. A thread of fear spun its way down his spine and Stella tensed. Severus willed himself to Occlude his mind and meditate. It was easy to forget the girl was an adept Seer, which always conveyed with it an element of Legilimancy.

Doctor Dance's wand work changed and suddenly Stella's breathing eased while water-filled spots bloomed across her exposed skin. The doctor sang a few notes on a pentatonic scale, and Stella slipped into a restful sleep, if Severus could judge by the depth of her breathing and the slackness of her face. He felt himself sag against the wall and blew out a breath.

The doctor stood and moved her head, as if easing sore muscles. “She'll sleep like that through the night, but keep an eye on her. She'll be too groggy to do much but she may need to eliminate waste. You'll need to help her.”

“What is it that is making her ill?” Severus said, his voice rumbling as he tried to modulate his volume.

The doctor busied herself putting her wand away, avoiding any eye contact with Severus. “Chicken Pox.”

“Impossible, that is a Muggle ailment,” Severus scoffed.

“Generally it is, but your daughter is part Native American,” the doctor answered in the driest of academic tones. “I'm surprised your wife didn't educate you about that particular aspect of her culture.”

“I must have missed that conversation,” Severus sneered, as he extricated himself from his daughter's grasp. “Please, enlighten me.”

The woman gave him a pointed look, her eyes troubled. She opened her mouth and then closed it with an audible snap. “I'm sure you know about the history of the Native populations and the diseases that ravaged them when the Europeans made contact?”

“I am vaguely aware of the history,” Severus responded, becoming uneasy under the woman's scrutiny. His overactive sense of self-preservation was clamouring for him to flee. “The natives had been isolated for millenia, and were not exposed to diseases that ravaged the Muggle world. What has this to do with a witch having a Muggle disease?”

“It's simple really; the International Statute of Secrecy does not apply to the Natives of North and South America.” she lectured, reminding Severus of a certain Know-It-All. “They don't apply because the Native Populations never split into Magical and Non-Magical subgroups. Shamans, Medicine Keepers and the Priests of various meso-American cultures were encouraged to co-mingle with the rest of the tribe, so the immunity conferred by magic is diminished in them.”

She looked again as if she were going to ask a question, then stopped herself. “I'll send over some anti-itch cream for her. You can apply it tomorrow. Given her age, the disease should run its course in about a week.”

The woman turned abruptly and left the room. Severus followed, uneasy.
“Thank you for your assistance, Dr. Dance.”

“After work, it's Antonia.”

Severus opened the door for her, and with a slight bow, escorted her outside. She gave him one more unsettling look with her dark, changeable eyes. “I hope all has been forgiven. It is important that we have a good working relationship.”

“It has been completely forgotten, Doctor.” Severus warded the door behind her, unsettled by the questions his ignorance had raised, and unsure how he would answer if she asked them.

&*&*&

Eileen Prince Snape lay in a Muggle hospital bed, her body ravaged by the years of abuse she had suffered. Her latest injuries, two black eyes, a lip so damaged it would require surgery, three broken ribs, a broken arm and a cracked skull were, in Severus' reckoning, not the worst that she had received from her husband. He could not, therefore, comprehend why the Muggle Healers held out no hope for her recovery. She had not awakened in three days, and had lain at the foot of the steep stairs at the family home for days before that; Tobias could not be located.

Severus, at seventeen, struggled manfully against the tears that threatened to fall as he looked upon the woman who had given birth to him. His entire life, she had been deeply unhappy and struggled to survive the violence inflicted on her by Tobias Snape. She had little energy left for her son. On the rare occasion she spared him a thought, it was to send him out of the house away from the screaming and bile-filled hatred. Severus had met Lily on one of those days that she remembered to protect him. A mixed blessing, that day.

His last conversation with his mother still resonated in his head. It had been the summer of his sixteenth year. She was nursing a split lip and Severus suspected his father had sexually abused her from the way she refused to sit and the stiffness of her movements. She was never one to confer pet names or sugar the truth. “Severus, you are approaching the time of an important decision, if you haven't already come to it.”

Severus sat at the kitchen table, unsure of how to answer her. If she meant Lily, she need not worry. He had put the nail in that coffin at the end of his fifth year. If she meant the Dark Lord, he only accepted purebloods into his ranks, and thanks to his mother's poor decision, Severus did not fit the bill to be a recruit. He was fucked either way. He supposed he could finagle an apprenticeship in Potions or Defence, but would starve while he completed the necessary training. “What decision, mother?”

“You know, Severus. The Dark Lord is always looking for talent,” Eileen whispered. It was Friday morning, and Tobias was at work, for once. The act seemed like superstition to Severus, but years of eradicating any reference to magic by his father, left Eileen afraid to utter certain phrases aloud, no matter what the circumstance.

Severus sighed gustily, slipping into the Northern accent he had worked so hard to lose during his time in Slytherin. “You know he won't take me, Mum. I'm a nothing, a half-blood and poor to boot.”

“And you're friends with a Malfoy, don't forget that, son.” Her voice was sly as she looked out the window, worrying her lip with her tongue. Severus could almost taste the sting of the cut himself. He had been on the receiving end of more than a few of Tobias' rages. “If you do get in, don't let your conscience rule you. Your father needs to learn a lesson about true power. If he were to die in the process, it would be no waste, and it might cement your position nearer the top. If you must kill to achieve your aims, let him be the first.”

She had chilled him and enthralled him with her words. Lucius had discussed getting Severus an introduction once he was clear of the Old Fool and his near omniscience. It was as if she were giving tacit approval. Severus' decision was closer then, now that his mother had given her blessing, and Tobias had fewer days left to pollute this earth. Severus merely looked out the dirty window, his face as hard as his mother's heart.

Now he sat here, with the Dark Mark etched in his skin only days before and his mother dying, the time was no longer measured in increments of years, weeks or months. He was waiting for the inevitable outcome of his violent childhood and he was suddenly utterly devoid of feeling as he sensed the agony underlying her comatose state.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, and flicked his wand forward, uttering the words that would end her life. He would never have to weep for her again.

His father’s was not his first murder, but his mother's would not be his last.

&*&*&

He awoke with a start, his position on the cot he had transfigured precarious, and he nearly fell as he lurched forward. Stella stirred. “Daddy, I hafta pee, but I can't get up.”

She was crying and he soothed her. “The doctor said that you might need help. Do not worry.”

He hoisted her surprisingly heavy body and stood her before the waiting toilet. She wavered between embarrassment and need before she pulled down her knickers and sat. Severus turned his back, unwilling to risk her wellbeing for misplaced modesty. He waited in the room until she whinged, “I can't go if I know you're listening.”

“Very well, but if you fall...” He exited the room, but left the door ajar.

After a few moments of silence he heard her whinge, “Close the door! I know you're out there.”

He leaned against the wall letting his mind drift.

&*&*&

He found his father a month later, coming out of a pub with barely pubescent girl. His father was so pissed he did not recognise Severus at first. Tobias shoved past him. “Get yer own, this un's bought and paid for tonight.”

Severus felt sickened by the presence of the girl, younger than him by years. He pulled the girl away from Tobias, “Go home to your mum, little girl, I don't want to hurt you.”

“Oh, it's you,” Tobias said, squinting past the hooked nose he had imparted on his one and only offspring, Severus' only inheritance from his wastrel of a sire. “Whut, you come to revenge yer numb cunt of a mother? You don't have the stones.”

Severus, for whatever reason, decided to forego the ease of the Aveda Kedavra for a more hands-on approach. The girl, obviously more used to violence of this sort than Severus had judged her, sauntered away in search of another customer, as Severus slowly squeezed the life out of his father. Once done, Severus cleansed himself of the shit and piss that soaked his robes with a moue of distaste. He gave the old man a kick in his flaccid gut, satisfied with his night's work. He Apparated away, needing to ready himself for a dinner party at Malfoy Manor.

&*&*&

Severus entered the bathroom after he became concerned about the amount of time Stella was taking. She had fallen asleep on the toilet, her hands hanging limply at her sides as she leaned forward. Severus picked her up, attempting to pull her knickers up as he did so. He did not know a charm to dress a person. She stirred. “Sorry, Daddy, that I'm such a problem.”

“No apologies are needed, my dear.” He took her back to her room, and spread the covers over her already sleeping form, noting with some relief that her fever was gone.

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