A Song for Severus ~ (Not Update, but Edit)

Epilogue

Bartholomew’s students did quite well on Severus’ exam at the end of the year, though no one received perfect marks. Still it was quite an impressive showing.

Bartholomew sat in the rickety chair in the office as Severus picked up all the parchments he graded and handed them to his young assistant.

Congratulations. Not one student blatantly failed,” Severus said to him soberly. You may take possession of my rooms in two weeks. You are now Hogwarts’ new Potions Master.”

Bartholomew stared at the wizard, flabbergasted.

“You’re…you’re leaving, Professor?” Bartholomew asked him.

”I certainly am. I’ve seen enough of this castle to last a lifetime. I intend to go into private practice and live a quiet life in the country with my wife. Start a family. Provided you manage to stay employed here you may find yourself deluged with my offspring. You’d better be well-schooled, because I assure you they will be,” Severus said with a slight smirk.

Bartholomew could only imagine. Well, he’d keep up with the latest potions development. Whenever Snape’s children came to Hogwarts, it wouldn’t do to be shown up by first years.

“I will be, sir,” Bartholomew replied with a smile.

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Eloise and Remus were married in muggle England, then returned to the wizarding world. It caused quite a stir down at the Ministry when they filed their certificate of marriage, but Remus couldn’t be arrested without infringing on the rights of Eloise.

Things became much better for the werewolf community. They were able to get better jobs now, though they still couldn’t work for the Ministry. Not one wanted to anyway.

When the next sorting occurred at Hogwarts, five of the children were werewolves. Two were sorted into Slytherin, one in Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor and Hufflepuff got one each.

The children that were sorted into Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were immediately accepted by the other students. Ravenclaw were naturally a bit distracted by studies, so it took a little more time for the child to make friends. But she did.

The two werewolves sorted into Slytherin paired off. They really didn’t care if not one student in that house liked them. They were here to learn and to be the best they could. They were as cunning, devious and self-absorbed as any other Slytherins.

Once a month they were moved to an open but warded area on the grounds to transform together. A small barn with fresh hay was kept available for them to sleep in, and Hagrid provided plenty of bones, balls and other items to keep them occupied. The giant soon found out he could enter the enclosure when the youngsters were transformed. They were well socialized with humans and so were not defensive, welcoming him with wagging tails and digging through his pockets to see if he had any treats.

One night, a young werewolf named Galen who worked as a dishwasher at the Three Broomsticks had become so involved in the evening rush that he didn’t pay attention to the time. It was the night of the full moon and the young wizard transformed in the kitchen around the other workers, who screamed and drew their wands ready to protect themselves. Rosmerta hurried in and saw the transformed wolf, who sat down on his haunches, wagged his tail and whined apologetically at her. Rosmerta studied him for a moment, their eyes meeting. Slowly she walked forward.

“Careful Rosmerta,” another dishwasher said.

Galen lowered his head as she approached, and Rosmerta stopped in front of him, and slowly reached out her hand, stroking his furry head, which rolled in pleasure. Rosmerta smiled.

“Put your wands away. Galen’s going to have to stay here for the night,” she said, petting the werewolf, “We can’t let him loose. Someone might hex him.”

The next day the streets were buzzing about a transformed werewolf staying in close proximity to humans without attacking. Of course Rita got hold of it and ran, tracking down witnesses and writing a column about it. It seemed the more werewolves socialized in open society, the better behaved they became on the night of their transformations.

Albus soon discovered students were sneaking out of the castle to the werewolf enclosure and actually playing with their fellow students, much as if they were playing with muggle dogs. There was not one biting incident.

The Aurors who worked for the Werewolf Control Department were reassigned and their office closed for good and the records sealed.

Eloise became pregnant almost one year to the day, and had a daughter. She named her Hermione after her first and best wizarding friend. For all intents and purposes, Hermione looked like any other child…but when the moon turned full…she didn’t transform. Remus and Eloise were delighted.

Hermione was looked on with interest, and the healers at St. Mungos were permitted to examine her. It was found however that she did have werewolf blood in her veins. Everyone was puzzled as to why she didn’t change when the moon was full.

They found out why after Hermione turned two years old and they found all her dolls gnawed and chewed, and the stuffing pulled out of her mattress and made into a kind of nest on the floor. But when Eloise and Remus entered her bedroom, Hermione was in human form. They looked around at the mess.

“Hermione, what did you do?” Eloise demanded, her hands on her hips.

”Doggie,” she said, turning into a werewolf pup and scampering up to them. Then she turned back, “Me!” she said happily as her parents stared at her. Apparently, Hermione could turn into a werewolf whenever she wanted to…sort of like an animagus. Now instead of having big Hermione baby-sit little Hermione on nights of the full moon, Remus and Eloise simply stayed at home with her, the little girl transforming when they did.

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Volaria graduated Hogwarts, topping out Hermione's marks and now was the brightest witch to ever graduate from the school. Hermione took it a little hard at first, but every Queen must fall. She enjoyed it while it lasted and she was still in the top ten. Voltaire turned out to be an exceptional young man, very bright and very kind. Especially to animals. He had a way with them. He was a quick learner and by the time he was twenty-five was on a level with any other wizard his age. He became a dragon-handler. He and Charlie Weasley became fast friends.

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After about a year, Draco began to get back in circulation though he wasn't nearly as much a playwizard as before. Yes, he had one or two trysts here and there, but not with anyone he could invest his heart in.

He walked through Diagon Alley and stopped to watch a young witch painting. She had a number of paintings resting against a wall. They were all abstracts, most painted with bright bold colors. But there were a few monochromatic painting that caught Draco's eye for some reason.

He studied the witch. She was a brunette, about five foot five. The painting she was working on had a black background with a white flame curling in the middle of it. She stopped painting, putting the end of her brush into her mouth as she considered the work. Suddenly, with a few deft strokes, she put the silhouette of a woman inside the flame. Draco blinked at it, reminded of Malina when she first appeared to him in his dream.

"Excuse me," Draco said to the artist.

The witch turned to look at him. She had the deepest blue eyes he had ever seen.

"Is this painting for sale?" he asked her.

"The paint isn't even dry...besides...it's not completed," she replied, looking him over.

Rich, pampered wizard.

"Still, I'd like to buy it...as is," Draco pressed.

The witch scowled at him, putting her brush down.

"I told you it isn't completed. Just because your pockets are probably filled to the brim with galleons doesn't mean you can buy it. This is my art...my life. I won't sell any painting that isn't completed. If you really want a painting, look at the others...they're finished. If not..."

The witch shrugged and turned back to her work.

Draco noticed her robes looked a bit worn. She didn't look like she made a fortune doing this. Still she had attitude. Draco liked attitude.

"What's your name?" he asked her.

"Who's asking?" she retorted, not looking at him.

"Draco. Draco Malfoy," Draco said with a hint of a smile on his face.

"My name is Melissa. Just...Melissa," she replied, "And you are breaking my concentration, Mr. Draco Malfoy."

"How about I take you to lunch, Melissa?" the wizard asked her suddenly.

"How about you don't?" Melissa replied, "I don't have lunch with strangers. I'm not a quick pick up, Mr. Rich Wizard."

Draco scowled at her.

"You have quite an attitude," he said to the witch.

"You have quite the nerve," she shot back at him.

"Listen, if you don't go to lunch with me, how can I become something other than a stranger?" he asked her, "I assure you I'm not a masher."

"Doesn't matter. I'm not interested. Now if you aren't going to buy anything, stop taking up my time," Melissa said.

"Fine then," Draco said, walking off.

Melissa watched him go with a sigh. She didn't have to be so nasty to him. He might have bought something. But people like that always had it so easy, born with a silver wand in their mouths and flaunting it. She had to work hard just for her next meal. Her stomach growled. She really was hungry.

Melissa looked at the image standing in the flame, and suddenly was moved to add a bit of color.
She dipped her brush and painted a tiny, perfect red rose.

Presently Draco came back.

"I'm back, Melissa," he announced.

The witch turned, about to apologize to him when Draco pressed a greasy bag of fish and chips into her hands.

"We can do lunch here then," he said with a smile.

Melissa looked at the bag. Gods, it smelled delicious.

"I love fish and chips. Thank you," she said, giving the handsome wizard a smile. If he ate food as common as fish and chips, maybe he wasn't so bad.

Draco looked at the painting, his gray eyes taking in the small red rose the silhouette held in her hands.

He knew it was a sign. It had to be.

"So Melissa," he said, peeling down the bag a bit to get at the fish, "Tell me about yourself."

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Severus purchased a home in the country, buying a plot of land from Remus and having it built from the ground up. It was peaceful living. He also constructed his own lab, separate from the house, and spent hours there working on new potions and receiving clients.

Hermione graduated university with a degree in Potions and a minor degree in Charms. She and Severus argued quite a bit about the need for a degree. When Severus became a Potions Master, he had simply been given tests to check his level of expertise. But eventually someone had the bright idea to make a curriculum that had to be met before anyone could become a Master in any field. So…universities popped up all over, tuitions were paid, and elitists were created. Severus could brew circles around anyone these institutions created, including Hermione. He had forgotten more than she had learned. Still Hermione went for her Masters, then joined Severus in his work.

One day while squeezing pus out of a large bubertuber bulb, Hermione threw up. Severus looked at her. Hermione had been handling the stinky bulbs for years. He scourgified her.

“Are you all right?” he asked the witch, looking at her worriedly.

”I’m fine…my stomach’s just been queasy lately,” Hermione said.

Severus stared at her silently for a moment, then pulled out his wand.

”Stand still,” he ordered, then passed his wand over her lower abdomen. He paused as the tip of his wand turned pink. He lowered it and stared at Hermione as if he’d never seen her before. Then he hustled her out of the lab.

“No more brewing for you. The ingredients can be dangerous,” the wizard said, walking with her toward the house, then bringing her into the bedroom and divestoing her clothes.

Hermione gasped and covered up as if Severus had never seen her naked before.

“What are you doing?” Hermione said as the wizard collected a night gown out of her dresser drawer. He pulled it over her head and Hermione obediently stuck her arms into the sleeves.

”Making you comfortable. An expectant mother should be comfortable,” he said, pushing her back until she sat down on the bed, then slipping her fuzzy slippers on her feet as Hermione stared at him.

”Expectant mother?” Hermione repeated with a dazed look on her face, “But…but how did that happen?”

Severus sat down on the bed next to her and kissed her mouth gently.

”Later on, I’ll show you,” he purred at her, “but for right now I want you to lie down as I prepare something for the nausea you’re feeling. I think we should get a house elf to help you.”

”No. No house elves, Severus. I don’t want a slave,” Hermione said.

”They aren’t slaves, Hermione…free elves choose whom they want to serve willingly. Hogwarts is full of elves looking for good Masters. They are miserable without one. They want a home like anyone else,” Severus said, “And I am going to get you one. You can rant all you like, witch. You are carrying my child and you WILL have help. I won’t have you straining yourself. Now lie down. I’ll be right back.”

Hermione lay down stiffly in the bed. Severus smoothed her hair, then placed one hand on her lower belly, a strange look in his eyes. Then he looked at her.

”A child. A daughter,” he breathed at Hermione, “I wanted a daughter. Thank you, Hermione.”

He gave her a soft, lingering kiss and when he pulled back from her, Hermione’s heart skipped because there was so much love in his eyes. He really was very happy. Hermione wasn’t sure how she felt.

That didn’t last long. Both Severus and the little house elf named Leafear that he acquired quickly learned Hermione had no problems expressing herself when she began to blow up like a little butterball. Dishes and hexes flew almost daily, Severus hiding out in the labs as much as he could. When Hermione wasn’t screaming, she was crying, and when she wasn’t crying, she was hexing, and when she wasn’t hexing…she was randy as hell.

Severus was hard put to service the horny little witch in a way that satisfied her fully. Hermione liked it hard, but Severus was too concerned about the baby to fuck her the way she appreciated. Hermione would burst into tears and say he found her disgusting, that’s why he couldn’t make love to her right.

Severus would immediately reassure her she was the most beautiful witch in the world to him, that the roundness of her body was pleasing to him because she was rounding because she was carrying his child, then he’d kiss her until she quieted and make love to her tenderly, talking to her the entire time, telling her how much he loved her. This worked for a while, but he had to continue to do this until the end of her term.

Hermione did indeed have a baby girl with dark hair curly hair and amber eyes. Her nose was a bit like Severus’ but thankfully much smaller than his. She had his pale complexion as well. They named her Evelyn which meant “wished for or longed-for child.”

Eleven years later, Bartholomew was taking role in his new first-year class when his eyes fell on a familiar surname. He looked up.

”Evelyn Snape?” he said to the students.

A pale hand rose in the air, and a soft female voice said, “Here sir.”

Bartholomew looked into the intelligent face of his former mentor’s daughter. She was a striking child, her amber eyes contrasting with her black hair and pale features.

”Welcome to my class, Miss Snape. I knew your father,” he said to the little girl. She was a Slytherin.

”Yes, I know sir. He sends his regards and told me to tell you he hopes you brushed up,” she said with a small, unpleasant little smile. Now he could see Snape clearly.

”Oh, I have, Miss Snape. I have,” he replied with a smile of his own.

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A/N: And I’m out of here. Thank you all for reading this long, long story. I will be starting work on my original piece Sahara, which is available to read on my site for a donation of your choice. I will update “Living Secret” as well, but my main focus will be on Sahara. You can read the first three chapters for free at http://www.theburningpen.com/sahara/index.htm See you all later. ***