Family Traits

Chapter Twenty-One

Family Traits

"He wants to meet you."

Tess removed her Muggle winter coat, draped it over the back of Severus's Chesterfield sofa and took a seat, warming her hands by the fire.

During the time she'd been away, flurries of snow had arrived, blanketing Pendle Hill and the surrounding countryside. The white, wintry landscape resembled a picture-postcard, stark and bleak, and several degrees cooler than the southern coast of Cornwall.

When Severus heard Tess's proclamation, the two mugs of hot chocolate he carried almost met with a premature fate. He muttered an expletive when frothy foam dribbled onto his new mahogany table.

"You must be joking," he responded, Tergeoing the polished surface clean with a flick of his wand.

Choosing one of the cups, Tess savoured the aroma of warm milk, dark chocolate and a hint of chilli; Severus's concoction was particularly welcome on a cold December afternoon.

"I'm completely serious," Tess affirmed, relishing the nip of chilli as it warmed her mouth and throat.

Severus shot her a defensive glare. "I take it you explained that I deliberately wiped his memory, not caring if he lived or died?"

"If you didn't care, you wouldn't have left him with one week's wages, his payslip in his pocket, in a town with a Salvation Army church."

"I didn't know there was a Sally Army place nearby; that was pure fluke."

Tess decided not to rise to the bait. Instead, she reflected, "You can't understand why your father would want to meet you."

Severus regarded her with a look which could have soured and curdled a gallon of milk. Fortunately, Tess had become accustomed to his distraction techniques and so she ploughed on.

"Your father says he can forgive you your sins... He's found religion; he and your stepmother are practicing Christians. It seems he found solace and meaning through the church, and I think you'll find he's a very different man to the one you remember. Perhaps a much better man."

"I don't see how that's possible," Severus said bitterly.

Tess shrugged her shoulders and took another sip of decadent hot chocolate. Feeling comfortable, she leaned back into the sofa and relaxed. "You essentially gave him a fresh start, Severus."

"I didn't mean to," he muttered into the rim of his cup.

"You could've inflicted a much worse punishment, but you chose not to."

Severus huffed, but he reluctantly realised the truth. Nevertheless, the lure of disparagement proved hard to resist. "It seems I turned my father into a God-fearing man who slavishly follows a religious doctrine, conveniently relieving him of all culpability."

"He doesn't avoid responsibility for his past actions, quite the contrary. The church helped him when he was down-and-out, providing a crutch of sorts, and giving him some meaning. He feels indebted to them, and I think he has continued to find solace there since his memories resurfaced."

"He remembers?"

"Some of it, yes. The Imperius Curse lifted when you died. He's now left with the effects of the Memory Potion."

"Perhaps he'll change his mind about meeting me when you administer the antidote."

"Actually, he refused the antidote, and I don't blame him. He remembers more than enough already, and he feels deeply ashamed."

"So he should." Severus was aware he sounded childish.

"Your father is a successful and determined man, and those traits have stood him in good stead, helping him rebuild his life."

Severus stared out of the window at his snow-covered garden, deep in thought. "I never thought he'd flourish," he contemplated. "The man I knew was bitter and vicious."

Watching a red-breasted robin hopping around the lawn and then flying off into the leafless trees, Tess meditated on his choice of words.

"I knew a man like that," she reflected quietly, "once upon a time."

Severus clunked his half-empty cup onto the coffee table, swivelling viperously at Tess. "Do not compare me to my father."

Patiently, Tess stroked the smooth warmth of her china mug, unruffled. "Your father was the product of a working-class upbringing; he worked hard and fought for all he achieved. Then he was tricked into marriage with a woman he did not love."

"And conceived a son he never wanted," Severus interjected.

"Yes," Tess concurred. "And despite all of this, he hung around and did his duty."

Severus's left nostril flared as he arched his upper lip. "You're painting him as if he were a saint."

"No, I'm just telling the story from his point of view. He's mortified and penitent, knowing he was an abusive and neglectful husband and father. But, Severus, you should have seen the pride on his face when I told him about your Order of Merlin..."

In the centre of his chest, Severus felt the injurious blow of a Beater's bat; his father had never once been proud of him, no matter how hard he'd tried to win his praise.

"When I was a kid, my father never seemed to notice me and spent all his free time at the pub," Severus remembered. "I used to wish he'd take me with him, teach me how to throw darts and play pool, anything to spend time together. But he'd come home drunk, uninterested in anything I'd accomplished. He'd send me to my room, and I'd listen through the crack in the doorframe... All the arguments, all the fights..." Severus's gaze dropped to the floor, unable to continue.

Tess moved towards him and wound her hand around his arm reassuringly. "You were a neglected, unloved and vulnerable child."

"And he was the cause," Severus saw fit to clarify.

Tess noticed the dominance of his distorted thinking. Carefully, she mirrored, "You blame your father."

"Of course I do," he stated.

Entwining her fingers gently around his whilst steeling herself for a change of direction, Tess asked, "How do you feel about your mother?"

In the silence which followed, a fresh squall of wintry weather arrived, hail and sleet rapping against the French doors like bristles on a snare drum. The sound encouraged Severus to recoil into a warmer memory.

"My mother raised me. She taught me magic and looked after me."

Tess gently manoeuvred with formless footsteps. "Your mother cared for you. Yet she was also the one who hoodwinked your father, forcing him to marry and spend the rest of his life with someone he didn't love."

Severus's jaw tightened. "Don't criticise my mother."

"I'm not criticising. I'm simply stating facts."

"My mother did what she could to look after me. I'm more like her than my father."

Tess smiled sadly. "Actually, I see both of them in you."

Severus turned, looking at her sharply for a long moment. "And what exactly do you see?"

"Well," Tess began, "when you were young, you befriended and fell in love with a witch. Your relationship never blossomed into romance, although perhaps it may have done, given time. The difference between you and your mother is that you chose differently; you became a Death Eater, hoping to impress Lily and win her back. Your mother, on the other hand, decided to bewitch your father, forcing him to be with her. Your father gave up his hopes and aspirations in order to raise a boy whom he didn't even remember conceiving."

Severus's head twitched in defiant discontent. "Yes, I chose differently. I didn't want to force Lily to love me, because it wouldn't have been real."

"Exactly. And this is where you differ from your mother."

A pensive, deep vertical line scored his forehead. "But when Lily's life was threatened, I wanted to trade her husband's and son's lives to make her mine."

Tess understood. "Even though she would never have truly been yours."

Severus's gaze lifted to the fireplace, considering the axiom from a new angle. "You're right. Had Dumbledore not brokered the deal to keep her safe, I would've forced a life upon Lily which she would never have chosen. And she wouldn't have loved me if she'd known what I'd done to her husband and child."

Seeing the divergence clearly, Severus began to comprehend a new arraignment. "You said you see both of my parents in me?" he asked, his voice tentative.

Tess nodded, took a final sip of hot chocolate, and placed her cup down on the table. "When you were a boy, your father was cruel and vicious... I was taught Potions by such a man." Tess paused for impact, giving space for the parallel to unfold. "And yet, your father also exhibited a high degree of determination, rebuilding his life from scratch, becoming successful in his career, finding a wife he loved, and leaving some of his old ways behind him. He's more like you than you realise, Severus."

Surrendering finally to the precision of her logic, Severus took his time to process what he'd heard. He picked up their empty cups and took them back into the kitchen, ran the hot water tap and began to wash up.

It pained him to attribute flaws to his mother, but he could not deny the similarities between himself and his father.

Tobias Snape had begun life anew after his son had freed him from the ties that bound him. However, despite his son's crimes, this same father now offered his son forgiveness and a chance to reconcile.

Severus felt a sharp stab of pain, understanding he would have to rise above their differences and accept responsibility for his own dubious actions.

Was it worth opening the door, not knowing where it might lead?