Chapter Twenty

Thanks to the atmospheric charms Malcolm and his wife weaved into its interior, the marquee erected within the sheltering circle of a grove of Scots pines provided a comfortable oasis from the chilly late October afternoon for guests invited to share in the celebration following Rose's christening. Severus carefully folded his coat, laid it over the back of one of the chairs, and breathed in the muted smells of autumn mingled with the odors coming from the warming trays on the refreshment tables. Soon, he would join the others in the cottage to enjoy an intimate lunch before the chaos of the reception began. But for now, he had a more pressing task to attend to.

Carefully, he prowled the perimeter of the tent, searching for undetected entry points and plotting observation points that would allow surveillance without calling attention to those entrusted with the task. Nothing could be taken for granted. He would do everything in his power to ensure Molly Weasley left the event completely ignorant of his baby girl's true heritage.

While he searched for any possible oversight in security, he numbered the favorable outcomes of the day. The service went off without a hitch. Rose was a trooper, cooing gently and offering gurgling smiles to her uncle as he held her in the crook of his arm and poured the water from his cupped palm to the top of the her delicate ebony curls. Lucius and Narcissa looked as proud as the peacocks that adorned the lawns of Malfoy Manor when they took their place as the child's godparents. The McGonagall clan looked appropriately delighted over their newest member...Minerva's smile almost blinding bright. In fact, the young Miss Snape seemed to cast an enchantment over the entire congregation, wrapping them almost as tightly around her tiny finger as she had her parents.

The only dark spot, so far, was the appearance of Hermione's parents in the midst of the assembly. His beloved cringed as they attempted to play the doting grandparents to a child they'd barely acknowledged a few days before.

"Why did you come?" The sadness edging Hermione's glare as she eyed her parents warily nearly broke his heart. Of all the things he'd seen and experienced in his forty-odd years of life, the rending of his wife's relationship with her parents was the hardest to witness...as there was no cause for it beyond the elder Grangers' ability to hold a grudge against actions meant to spare their lives. "After the way you accused us..." Seeing Hermione draw her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes brimming, he stepped closer, wrapping her in his strength by settling his hand against the small of her back. The breath she drew was shaky, but her voice was steady when the words came. "We asked you specifically to stay away and not spoil our daughter's..."

"Don't you think we bloody well know that?" Hermione's father rounded on him, his mouth tense and the lines around his eyes pinched and drawn. "Don't you think we went away from your home the night we discovered Rose's existence berating ourselves for allowing our damnable pride, our misplaced prejudices to open such a wide chasm between us?"

"Severus?"

The voice that used to send a shiver of revulsion down his spine brought his attention back to the interior of the marquee. He turned to find James Potter's son standing just inside the curtained opening. Although their association with Hermione forced them into civility, he still found the friendship that evolved surprising. While the messy-haired wizard wasn't as close a confidant as Lucius or his adoptive uncles, he trusted the boy on a level far above most. "Harry." An aura of apprehension shrouded the young man, awakening Severus' dormant level of perception perpetually employed in his career as spy for the Order. He tugged his usual calm more firmly about him. No reason he should alert the Chosen One to his heightened level of anxiety. "The ladies' cooing over young Rose prove too much for you?"

The young wizard chuckled and shook his head. "Not really." He stepped around a few chairs and tables as he made his way closer to Severus' position. "Though I am afraid Luna may become even more clucky after today."

"Urging you to get on with it, is she?"

Although not as resonant as his, Harry's laughter joined with his own struck a calming note. The boy was a trusted ally. Another protector of those Severus held most dear...whether the younger wizard learned the truth or not.

"Not really," Harry shrugged. His cheeks colored slightly. "Though I did see a flicker of something in her eyes when she held your daughter."

Severus chuckled again. He knew exactly the flame his friend spoke of. He'd seen it in his beloved's eyes the moment she laid eyes on the tiny bundle in the rubbish heap in Weasley's filthy bedsit. And, in that moment, he'd known resistance was futile. "Just be sure to send your Patronus in nine months' time to announce the arrival of the first little Potter."

"You mean like you and Hermione did when Rose arrived?"

He flinched at the undertone of bitterness in the young Auror's voice. "Harry..."

With a shake of his head, the boy-who-lived waved off the apology. "Hermione explained. Things happened so fast..."

Flashes of that day and the weeks following rapidly fired through Severus' brain with such ferocity, his knees nearly buckled. "Indeed it did." He turned to more fully address his friend. "But that does not excuse the lack of communication regarding the blessed event." He bowed slightly. "For that, I am sorry."

Harry nodded. "We've all done the best we can to move on since Ron..." He shook his head slightly, sighed, then silent for a moment as if gathering his thoughts. "I wish I knew why Ron can't seem to keep his demons at bay like the rest of us do." He glanced toward the house in the distance where Luna was holding court with Ginevra and Hermione. "I know we all have our days when we wonder how we survived, but with him..."

Despite all the darkness the whelp seemed to leave in his wake, Severus couldn't stop the pity that rose. The redheaded menace had, at one time, meant a great deal to his beloved bride and remained a treasured friend to Harry. For those reasons alone, the boy deserved a modicum of sympathy. "He is doing well, is he not?"

Another damnable shrug, and Severus shook his head. Some habits seemed impossible for a Potter to break.

"He seems to be," Harry sighed. "But then again, he always does." He sank into a nearby chair, the world resting heavily on his shoulders, if the way they hunched inward was any indication. "In fact, he usually does really well for at least the first few months after he's released. Then he starts to slide." He looked up, the sadness in his eyes tugging at Severus' heart.

Merlin, but he wanted to tell the young wizard. To explain it was the taint of darkness those of Weasley's species attracted. To take away the guilt Harry felt at failing his friend. But the sour tingle on Severus' tongue indicated the attempt would hold deadly consequences for him. Instead, he offered the only comfort he could afford. "Some questions have no answers, Harry." He sighed and looked out over the sea of chairs that would soon be filled with their friends and family in celebration of Rose's birth. Once again, he was struck by the irony. In cleaning up the mess that was Ronald Weasley's life, he and Hermione had found their greatest treasure. For that, he would be forever thankful. "Just be grateful you have the chance to fight alongside."

"I suppose," Harry sighed. Another long silence that left Severus fighting the urge to fidget. Finally, the young wizard asked, "Are you sure you didn't uncover anything at his flat?"

His blood chilled almost to the point of coagulation in his veins. He'd expected the boy to ask, even going so far as to formulate the answer. Yet now that it hung in the air between them... "I can assure you there was nothing of significance to discover." Worry paused him for a fraction of a second. Hopefully the young Auror still lacked the perception he sorely needed when a student. "Does young Mr. Weasley still insist he left something precious behind?"

The other man shook his head, and relief extinguished the fire of uncertainty in his belly. "To be honest, Ron doesn't remember much." He shrugged again, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his dejection. "He never does."

Severus fought to keep the relief from his voice. "Perhaps it is for the best."

"I suppose."

Severus urged the rather sheepish wizard to continue with an arch of his brow. "If I had known Hermione was so close to delivery, I would never have..."

"You couldn't have known." Severus leaned against the back of a chair and regarded the member of the Golden Trio his wife still regarded as family. Regret surged, but he bit it back with the mantra he and his wife repeated on an almost daily basis: The fewer who know, the safer for all. "We chose to keep the pregnancy a secret. Hermione has had her fill of being in the spotlight, and I..." He closed his eyes against the pressure building behind them from the memories' bombardment. "I never relished the idea of publicity in the first place. To have announced the pending arrival would have courted..."

"Disaster in the form of a beetle?"

Regarding the smile widening his companion's mouth, Severus allowed his own lips to lift slightly. "Precisely." He once again searched the interior of the tent for any sign of the Daily Prophet's notorious Animagus. "I only wanted to keep Hermione out of Rita Skeeter's line of fire to keep the stress level manageable."

"And yet I added to it by asking you to check into Ron's drug-induced rantings." Harry glanced at him from behind eyes filled with remorse. "That was the day Hermione delivered, wasn't it?"

Severus nodded. "But one event had nothing to do with the other." He lied as smoothly as he had under Voldemort's glare despite the rush of anxiety through his veins. "And both ended as well as could be expected."

"It did, didn't it?" Harry grinned. "Especially for you and Hermione."

"The very best way," Severus agreed, thankful the boy didn't appear to have noticed anything amiss during their conversation. Ready to escape any further interrogation, he turned, took his jacket from the back of the chair, and started toward the house, ignoring the urge to scan the interior of the marquee for a final time. "Care to join me in the kitchen for a little refreshment? I happen to know where Narcissa stashed the extra strawberry scones."

He strolled from the tent and across the lawn with the other wizard in tow, his spirits lifted by Harry's overeager reaction to the idea of the tasty treat. Never once did he look back or notice the redhead lurking in the shadows near the caterer's entrance.