An Unlikely Savior ~ (Edit) COMPLETED

Chapter 9 ~ A Startling Revelation

As Eileen walked briskly across the grounds, she suddenly felt a tingle in her arms and legs. Alsop caught up to her, scowling as he matched her pace.

”You could have at least waited for me,” he said to the witch, who was scowling herself.

”Shut up, Alsop,” she snapped, in worse temper than usual. The tingle was quickly turning into a kind of burning sensation that seemed to wrap around her limbs and pour into her belly. Eileen stopped walking, staring ahead at the castle.

”Eileen?” Alsop said suddenly. “What’s wrong?”

The witch was perspiring, sweat pouring down her face, her hair sticking to her temples.

”Alsop, stay calm and help me sit down,” Eileen said softly.

Alsop helped her to the ground.

”Now, I want you to go to the castle and get help,” she told him, her eyes shifting toward him. Horrified, Alsop saw the whites were a deep pink. He dropped to his knees beside her.

”What’s wrong?” he asked her again, his heart starting to pound. She looked sick and her eyes were starting to dull.

”Go get help,” she told him weakly.

Alsop placed his hand on her forehead, then pulled it away quickly. She had a fierce fever. The Ravenclaw pulled out his wand and quickly cast a cooling spell on her. There was no way he was going to leave her on the grounds alone. He fired a red flare into the sky, then swept the stricken witch up into his arms and ran as fast as he could toward the castle.

He felt her go limp in his arms.

”Eileen! Eileen, hang on!” he begged her as he ran faster. He could see people rushing out of the castle in response to his flare.

”You’ll be all right, Eileen, just hold on! Please, hold on!”

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Severus was chopping potions ingredients when a sober-looking Auror entered his shop.

”Apothecary Snape?” the wizard asked him.

Snape looked up.

”Yes, I am he,” Snape replied.

”Your daughter is ill and has been taken to St. Mungo’s for treatment. Your presence is required immediately,” the Auror informed him.

Suddenly, thunder sounded and the apothecary was gone. He didn’t even bother to lock up his shop. The Auror did it for him.

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”Where is my daughter?” Snape thundered as he strode into St. Mungo’s lobby.

The witch behind the intake desk looked up at the pale, angry-looking wizard striding up to the counter.

”Who is your daughter, Mr.--?”

”Snape. Her name is Eileen Snape and she was transferred here from Hogwarts,” Snape snarled at her. “I demand to see her immediately.”

”Room 104, Mr. Snape,” the witch said, cringing as the wizard swept past her and through the double doors.

Eileen in St. Mungo’s? What happened? She was always a healthy witch. A number of healers were gathered outside her room door, murmuring to each other as they looked at charts. Snape pushed by them and found Eileen unconscious in a cot, tubes running into her arms and legs, her hands and feet tied to the bed. Large bags of blood hung from two poles on either side of the bed leading into her wrists, and Snape noted with horror that the tubes at the bottom of the bed emptied blood into buckets.

”What is this?” he roared. “Why is my daughter bound and full of—of needles like a Muggle?”

The healers all entered. One brave one approached the wizard.

”It is because she wouldn’t react to magical treatment, Mr. Snape. Once she did come around, she attempted to tear the tubes from her arms and legs. She was screaming for you, sir. We had to restrain and sedate her for her own good.”

”What’s wrong with her?” the wizard demanded.

”The consensus is that it is some type of blood issue. For some reason her body is trying to reject her blood, the white platelets attacking the red platelets as if they are an invading disease. We tried blood cleansers and replenishers, and when that didn’t work, we tried a blood transfusion which was also rejected even though the plasma was the proper type. Her organs are functioning fine and we can’t find a reason for her body to go to war on itself. We were hoping that an infusion from a parent would provide a template for the blood to correct itself. Right now, we are infusing her with fresh blood, letting it circulate, then removing it as it becomes volatile. We need a bit of your blood, sir. We think we can stabilize her if the components are viable.

“Take it!” Snape hissed, pulling back his sleeve. The healer drew his wand out and a vial, then tapped a vein. Snape winced at the pinch, and watched as the vial filled. A medi-witch changed one of the bags of blood. The healers all hurried out of the room to test Snape’s sample.

Snape walked up to Eileen’s bedside, his eyes bloodshot as he looked at his daughter. She was paler than he was, her lips bluish and breathing shallow. He blinked, his eyes filling with tears as he reached out and caressed her curling brown hair.

”Eileen,” he whispered, his voice hitching as he looked down at the only person in this world that he loved and loved him.

The healers returned, looking grave. The same healer that addressed him the first time walked up to him, shaking his head.

”I’m afraid your blood isn’t a suitable match. We need the mother,” the healer said, looking down at his clipboard. “I believe her name is Delores Snape—“

Snape stared at the wizard.

”No—not Delores Snape,” he said hollowly, his face becoming drawn. “Hermione. Hermione Weasley.”

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Hermione worked as a charm developer at “Cloister, Mystic and Jibes,” a very successful spells lab. She was busily charting lei lines when the Auror entered the lab.

”Mrs. Hermione Weasley?” he inquired.

Hermione put down her quill and wiped her hands on her lab coat.

”Yes, that’s me,” she said, a bad feeling in her belly. When Aurors showed up, it was usually bad news.

”Your daughter became very ill at Hogwarts and has been transferred to St. Mungo’s and is in serious condition. Your presence is required immediately,” the wizard said as all blood drained from Hermione’s face.

”Tell my husband, Ron Weasley to meet me there! He works at the Ministry!” Hermione told the Auror, then she immediately Disapparated.

As she hurried through the St. Mungo’s lobby toward the intake desk, she was terrified. Rose taken to St. Mungo’s? It had to be serious because Hogwarts had quality care for its students.

”I’m Hermione Weasley,” Hermione said to the medi-witch behind the desk anxiously. The woman looked at a list.

”Your daughter is in room 104,” she said. “Right through those double doors.”

”Thank you,” Hermione said, hurrying through the doors and down the hallway, reading the room numbers. She quickly turned into room 104, walked swiftly past the healers and to the bedside. She eyed the horrible-looking rigging first, her belly clinching.

”Oh Ro—“ she started to gasp, then stopped, staring at the strange young witch in the bed.

”That’s not Rose,” she said as the healers all looked at her, perplexed.

”No, that’s not Rose,” a familiar silken voice responded. Hermione started as Severus Snape glided up to her, his face taut with worry and pain. “But I assure you, Hermione, she is your daughter. Your firstborn, and—she needs you.”

Hermione stared up at Snape in disbelief, wincing a bit as a medi-witch arbitrarily rolled up her sleeve and quickly took a blood sample, disappearing with it. She looked back at the pale young woman. At Snape’s daughter. As a mother, her heart went out to the teenager—then, the cauldron dropped.

”What do you mean she’s my daughter? That’s impossible!”

Snape’s eyes narrowed at her.

”Is it really, Hermione?” he asked her. “Do you believe I would summon you here if you weren’t needed? You are her mother.”

Hermione stared back at him as understanding and horror washed over her. Snape was a talented Potions master. That night so long ago—“

“You—you didn’t—“

“A life for a life,” the dark wizard said coldly.

Hermione began to buckle and Snape caught her before she fainted, just as Ron ran into the room, his blue eyes wild.

”What’s wrong with Rose?” he cried running up to the bed, not even noticing Hermione in Snape’s arms. He stared down at Eileen.

”That’s not Rose,” he said, relieved. It was then he saw Snape holding his wife.

”What’s going on here?” he demanded, starting to walk toward Snape.

A breathless young healer ran into the room.

”It’s a match, Mr. Snape! Mrs. Weasley’s blood has all the components necessary to cure your daughter’s ailment. A perfect match!”

Ron stood there, stunned.

”A perfect match?” he repeated as Snape stood a colorless Hermione up, releasing her and walking up to Eileen’s bedside, relief evident on his face.

”You’re going to be all right, Eileen,” he said softly

Ron looked at Snape, then at Hermione.

”Hermione? What’s going on here? I was told Rose was ill,” he said to her. “That’s not Rose.”

Hermione blinked at Ron. She had never told him about the night with Snape. She didn’t think she had to, it was so long ago. She had believed he wanted her virginity and not her child. There was nothing remotely parental about the dark wizard. She had thought he just—lusted after her. She should have suspected he had ulterior motives. But she had been young, and believed that all men wanted from a woman was pussy back then. She should have known Snape would be more complicated.

He’d impregnated her and somehow gestated the child himself. But—but if Eileen truly was her daughter, she should be at least twenty years old, not fifteen or sixteen. The math was all wrong. She stared at Severus, who was now seated next to his daughter, one pale hand wrapped around hers as he spoke to her softly. She was still unconscious. She looked back at Ron.

”I don’t know exactly what’s going on, Ron. I was told my daughter was at St. Mungo’s and I came here—and this is what greeted me.”

”How is your blood a perfect match, Hermione?” Ron asked her, his face clouding over.

Hermione just—shrugged.

Ron stared at her, then stalked over to Snape, gripping his shoulder.

”What the hell is going on here, Snape?” he demanded.

Snape shrugged Ron’s hand off his shoulder and snarled up at him.

”Can’t you see I’m with my daughter, you oaf?” he hissed at him.

”Why is Hermione here?” Ron growled back at him. “Why did you call my wife here?”

Snape’s black eyes shifted to Hermione, who looked back at him, her face ashen. He looked back at Ron.

”Because your wife is my daughter’s mother, Mr. Weasley. That’s why she was summoned. Only she could save her life,” the Potions master said.

”That’s impossible. The only way she could be her mother was if you two shagged and she was born out of wedlock. Your daughter is only a little older than Rose. Hermione and I were married, and I know she didn’t cheat on me.”

”No, she didn’t cheat on you, Mr. Weasley. When we engaged, you were not yet married. It was the price I required for her repayment of the Life Debt she owed me for saving her from Fenrir Greyback,” the wizard purred as Hermione went even more ashen.

Ron looked at her, the expression on his face full of pain.

”I thought you were a virgin when you married me,” he said softly as Snape’s attention focused on his daughter again.

”You—you never asked me if I was, Ron,” she replied, her voice tremulous.

”Of course I didn’t ask you! I just assumed you were,” Ron said, shaking his head in disbelief. “You could have told me about this, Hermione.”

The healer and the attending medi-witch were listening to the conversation with rounded eyes, completely enthralled. This was better than “All My Witches.”

”I didn’t know there was anything to tell, Ron,” Hermione responded. “It was one night and I barely remembered anything about it. He gave me a potion and then—it was over. I only knew he shagged me because of how sore I was.”

Ron, the healer and the medi-witch all stared at her in amazement. Hermione realized how she sounded. She tried to do some damage control, say something that wouldn’t amplify Snape’s sexual prowess that night.

”I didn’t know I conceived a child, Ron. I didn’t carry it after all, and he didn’t say anything about it. I thought he wanted my virginity. I didn’t know he wanted a baby!”

Ron just stared at her, then frowned at Snape, who wasn’t paying either of them any attention. Ron studied Eileen, and finally, he could see it. In the hair and the facial features. This girl definitely resembled Hermione in some aspects.

“I can’t believe this,” the redhead said, spinning on his heel and walking out of the room.

Hermione stood there, her insides churning. This was a nightmare, a living nightmare. And Snape didn’t seem to care at all that he had just complicated her life in ways she never imagined. He only had eyes for his daughter as more healers entered the room and began to work on her.

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A/N: I thought I’d revisit this story. It’s been a while since I’ve written anything for it. I don’t want it to be too long, so cut directly to the chase. What a mess!