For Richer, For Poorer

Chapter Three

For Richer, For Poorer

Spinner's End appeared more dilapidated than ever when Tess and Severus Apparated onto the dirty, cobbled back alley and then wandered onto the street.

Parched weeds withered by the roadside gutter, blasted by the summer sun's rays. With no trees to provide shady respite to passersby, the sunlight reflected mercilessly from the grey terrace walls, heating the stone surfaces until they shimmered like a desert mirage.

In the time he had known Tess, Severus's sense of shame regarding his childhood home in Cokeworth had multiplied, until he almost couldn't bear to return her to this place of unhappy memories, fearing she might somehow become tainted by its very proximity.

He wasn't embarrassed merely by his inauspicious beginnings in this grimy, rundown corner of northern England, a place he'd never truly escaped, despite all of his ambition. Of greater consequence were his father's actions toward his mother: a disgrace which hung like deadweight around Severus's neck. His own dubious deeds upon discovering the years of abuse suffered by his mother were also heavy on his conscience. As a seventeen-year-old wizard, Severus had slipped his father a Memory Potion and cast the Imperius Curse to force him to handover the family home to his wife and son. If he'd known that his mother's heart would break so irrevocably, Severus might have made a different choice. There were so many things he would do differently, if he had the chance to make those choices again. And therein lay his shame.

As they walked up the street with the sun beating down, Severus feared that Tess's picture of him might alter, and he might be viewed as a bad prospect for a single witch, encumbered by a history of neglect and abuse. He could not escape his childhood, and he could not change his past; he only hoped that Tess would continue to accept him unconditionally, as she had once vowed to do.

A gritty layer of dust crunched underfoot as they made their way towards his house. Weeks must have passed since the rain had washed the pavements clean. Tess seemed happy, if a little distracted, and wore a strappy summer dress adorned with pinkish-purple patterns of flowers. From the number of petals on each bloom, Severus determined they were hellebores, and they reminded him of the Draught of Peace. He might have benefitted from taking a few drops of that particular potion before leaving the Leaky Cauldron this morning.

Three days had passed since his resurrection, and he had undergone countless tests at the Ministry of Magic, most of which were at his own behest. He wanted to be sure the revivification of his soul had been free of glitches, so he had undertaken a variety of magical aptitude checks in the Department of Mysteries under the watchful eye of Griselda Marchbanks herself.

Tess's great-grandmother volunteered her services when the Unspeakable assigned to his case left the country unexpectedly, called abroad for an emergency. Tess hadn't seemed perturbed by the vanishing of their Ministry contact; if anything, she seemed relieved and had been pleased to introduce Severus to the matriarch of her family. Severus didn't mind the Head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority overseeing his assessment; he knew the elderly witch would have her great-granddaughter's best interests at heart and would ensure the tests were stringent and thorough. Severus desperately needed reassurance that the alterations to the Revivification Potion had not adversely affected him in any way.

Griselda maintained emotional distance from Severus throughout, and she concluded her investigations successfully. Severus then presented himself to St Mungo's for observation and examination. No anomalies were found, and the hospital discharged him with a clean bill of health. Now he anticipated a Daily Prophet reporter would soon land on his doorstep, despite the confidential nature of his rebirth. But they would have to find him first.

Severus intended to maintain his privacy until his final obligation was discharged: the Wizengamot would eventually call him to appear before them, hence the reason for Griselda's deliberate neutrality at this stage. He expected his evidence would help convict numerous Death Eaters previously unknown to the Ministry, but he also knew he would be called to account for his own actions, and there was a possibility he might face a prison sentence.

However, word had spread following Harry Potter's revelation of Severus's loyalties in the moments before the Dark Lord fell. His love for Lily Evans had become common knowledge, and so Severus had been forced to return to life without his erstwhile disguise. Now that the wizarding world knew of his love, and of his folly, he knew he could never return to teach at Hogwarts; his power over his students had evaporated. His life would take a new course, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer.

Severus raised his reclaimed ebony and phoenix-feather wand to point at the peeling paint of the front door, preparing to undo the enchantments cast by Tess when she'd visited his home the previous Christmas. Tess leaned against the stone jamb, allowing the sun to warm her face whilst she waited. Severus had convinced her to take a holiday when the Hogwarts' term ended, and she had returned lightly tanned and more relaxed, although she still appeared slightly preoccupied. He had feared for her sanity for a time, and he could only imagine the difficulties she'd faced whilst his soul remained trapped in the anti-Horcrux. His thumb rubbed the Tiger's Eye ring reflexively; he hadn't removed the silver band since he'd been returned to physical form. He didn't know why, but he found its presence comforting.

The door creaked open, releasing dusty, stale air from within the house, and several white envelopes spread across the doormat, awaiting his attention. Standing in the entranceway, Severus frowned at the peeling labels on the front of the hand-delivered correspondence. The letters were plainly Muggle in origin, and many appeared mangled and crumpled from being shoved underneath the door or through the cracks of the doorframe; the sender had not been defeated by the lack of a letterbox. Severus had not received mail since he'd Confunded the local council, and nobody else had ever shown an interest in the derelict street.

Tess pushed past him and started to gather the envelopes in her hands. "There are no postage stamps, Severus. Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to contact you... Some of these have been here for months." She wiped a layer of dust from the oldest, most creased letter.

"Whoever brought them seems to have perfected the art of doorframe delivery," Severus mused as he picked up the newest envelope which was largely unscathed from its encounter with the narrow crevice underneath his door. He ran his fingers beneath the gummed seal, following Tess into the house as she opened windows to allow fresh air to enter the stuffy living room.

The letter was printed on thick, watermarked paper, headed with a geometrical corporate symbol of triangles and squares.

Dear Mr Snape,

Sapphire and Gould Developments

Tess touched Severus's arm, concerned by the expression of shock on his face. "What does it say?" she asked worriedly.

Severus cleared his throat. "Read it," he said as he pushed the letter into her hands. He walked to the bookcase at the far side of the room and pushed open the hidden passage to the kitchen. Another wave of stuffy air assailed his nostrils, and he opened the back door from the kitchen and stepped out into the rear yard. Spiders' webs decorated the lintels, and dandelions bloomed in the edges of pavestones. He wondered if the sender of the letter had realised his home had been empty for a year.

Tess came to stand at the back door. "Severus," she said, "this is wonderful!"

"It is unexpected."

She paused. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to suggest that you should accept the offer. This is your home, and I imagine you'd be attached to the place where you grew up. I just meant that the amount of money is... very generous."

"I know. The value of this house has always been a pittance."

"The developers must be desperate," Tess replied, opening a handful of older letters.

They quickly discovered the offers had begun in February, starting with £20,000. Apparently, since the developers hadn't heard from the homeowner, the bid increased steadily in small increments, until last month when they more than doubled their previous offer.

"What are you going to do?" Tess asked as they returned inside and locked the door. "Can you accept this amount of money for your childhood home, knowing it will be flattened to make way for a Muggle supermarket?"

Severus watched her for a long moment, maintaining his stony façade whilst revelling in her ignorance. Her naïveté really was rather endearing.

"Saves me having to burn the place to the ground," he quipped with a slight smirk.

Tess's expression changed to bemusement, closely followed by a smile and throaty laughter. "Oh, Severus," she said as she wrapped her arms around him.

Her soft hair smelled of strawberries, tickling his nose as he embraced her lightly. Who would have thought he'd find someone who would appreciate his sense of humour? Who would have known someone could love him for all that he was?

He reached down to coax her chin upwards, and his lips met hers in a pleasing swirl of warmth. She responded readily to his touch, pressing her hips against his and sneaking her hands between the buttons of his shirt. He marvelled that she wanted him here, in this musty and gloomy faux library, amongst the dusty volumes of Dark Arts and Potions. Her fingers made light work of his shirt buttons, and soon he was pushing her back into the house and up against a book-shelved wall, hearing the leather-bound tomes thudding as they were forced to the back of the casing.

Gently, tantalisingly, he slipped the straps of her dress down her shoulders and kissed her neck and collarbone. "Who would have thought," he murmured into her ear, causing her a slight shudder, "that a woman would find wealth such an aphrodisiac?"

She laughed, and he smiled into the crook of her neck as he brushed his lips against her skin. He was well aware that Tess's wealth far exceeded his own, and he also knew the paucity of his Gringotts savings to be of little concern to her, yet she was willing to play along with his game of teasing.

In a darkened corner of his mind, he had a sneaking suspicion that Tess was trying to prove something, either to him, or to herself, but when Tess moaned his name into his ear, the thought slipped from his mind like sand through an hourglass.

As books toppled from their library stacks, Severus dreamed of other roles she might agree to perform willingly for mutual gratification.

One hour later, Tess began the task of packing up his collection of books, with roses blooming on her cheeks, and her hair slightly dishevelled. Meanwhile, Severus was feeding a Muggle public telephone-box with silver coins.

When he returned to Spinner's End with the deal sealed and the promise of £150,000 in the bank, his footsteps felt lighter as he crossed the threshold to his soon-to-be-sold home. He'd learned he would need to acquire a Muggle bank account, but knew that would be mere formality with use of a well-aimed Confundus Charm.

Severus had been hoping Tess might offer to live with him, as so far she had failed to invite him to reside in her home at Squirrel's Leap, the cottage which had been his safe-house last summer. Tess now had a permanent houseguest since her brother, Nathan, had arrived back in the country, and it was unlikely she would throw out her sibling to make way for a man she'd only been in a relationship with for three days, especially since Nate and Severus had not seen eye-to-eye when they first made acquaintance. Nevertheless, Severus ached for a sign that she might be willing to cohabit with him.

With his belongings packed quickly and securely by magic, Tess and Severus bought ice-cream cones from a corner shop and went for a walk by the rubbish strewn riverbank, searching for the spot where they'd spent time in the anti-Horcrux reality.

"What will you do with the money?" Tess asked, licking a drip of raspberry-ripple ice cream from the side of her thumb.

"Buy a new house, of course. I still need somewhere to live."

"Where do you want to move to?" she asked, sitting down on a park bench which marked the boundary of the more upmarket side of town. Lily's side of town.

"I don't know yet," Severus answered, throwing the remnants of his cone into the river. A paddling of ducks quacked loudly as they fought over the bobbing wafer, which drifted further downstream and out of sight. "Not here, though," Severus affirmed. "I don't want to stay here."

"Where would you like to live? You have the world at your feet, within reason. One hundred and fifty thousand Muggle pounds won't buy you a manor, but you can afford to live somewhere quiet where you won't be bothered too much. I know how much you appreciate your solitude."

Severus pondered the possibilities. He could imagine buying a house in the country with a garden for growing his own potion ingredients and a cellar for his laboratory. A quiet little country lane would be agreeable, he decided.

"Have you thought about that village in the shadow of Pendle Hill?" Tess asked, dusting crumbs from her dress. "You know: the place where you took me on my birthday? Don't your mother's family hail from around there?"

He nodded, and a small green shoot poked its head through the fertile soil of Severus's newly-acquired existence.

"Perhaps," he replied.

He took hold of her hand and lifted his face to the sun, drinking in the warmth of the day and the softness of her skin, wondering abstractedly if this was how happiness felt.