Chapter 23: Meet the Snapes

Chapter 23: Meet the Snapes

Author’s Note: According to http://www.hp-lexicon.org/wizards/snape.html, Snape was born in 1958 or ’59 [JKR says 1959 or 1960—I go by 1960] (On January 9th) Making him 39 or 40 at the present time in this story. Hermione is 18.

* * *

“Go on,” he said, wringing his hands and glancing at the time. “We have to go!”

I uncorked the vial and knocked it back, closing my eyes as the tingling sensation swept down my esophagus. I looked at him, and his eyes widened. I turned to look in the mirror and gasped. The vial hit the ground and shattered.

“Oh, my God,” I said under my breath as I examined my face. My cheekbones were better defined, my lips had slight creases at the edges and my body felt slightly less springy as before.

“You look,” Severus cleared his throat, “beautiful.”

I sighed and tucked a stray bit of hair behind my ear and attempted to stuff it into my messy bun. After a moment, I dubbed my efforts as futile and straightened my yellow cocktail robes. He grasped my hand, and we Apparated.

We stood before a two-story, wooden-paneled home with a black, wrought-iron fence surrounding it. A single tombstone stood in the yard, which was nothing more than leveled dirt. Severus’s brow had furrowed, and I reached up to smooth it.

“It’s… charming.” I grinned.

This received a deep chuckle from Severus. I laughed along with him, and we approached the door. He knocked thrice slowly and deliberately. A broad-chested man with carefully combed hair flung the door open. His hair was shorter than Severus’s, and he had glittering, sapphire-blue eyes. He beamed at me and stuck out his hand.

“Perseus Snape.” He was still grinning broadly.

“Hermione Granger,” I responded, attempting to keep my arm from shaking as he wrung my hand. He then turned to Severus and pulled him into a bear hug. Severus patted him on the back and withdrew quickly.

From the shadows of the candle-lit sitting room came a gaunt woman whose neck was craning forward. She was tall and lanky and had salt and pepper hair drawn into a tight French braid. She wore black robes with Indian embroidery on the hem. She had a hooked nose, more so than Severus, whose nose was simply large. Her lips were pursed as though trying to conceal a distasteful sneer.

“Welcome, dear.” Her hoarse, empty voice was just barely a whisper. “I am Eileen Snape. You may call me Madam Snape.”

“Mother,” said Severus with a sigh. I was greatly amused to see him reverting to childish habits.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Madam Snape. I am Hermione Granger.” I curtsied. She seemed as though she wasn’t interested in touch. My curtsy seemed to appease her icy demeanor slightly, but it was only my intuition, as her face revealed nothing.

“Let’s go into the sitting room, shall we?” Perseus boomed though the quiet house. Madam Snape nodded slightly, and we all went into the room. Severus sat stiffly on a love seat, and I seated myself beside him. Madam Snape left for the kitchen to retrieve a tea service for the four of us.

“So, Hermione, what do you do for a living?” asked Perseus. He broke through the silence, which had previously only been disturbed by the heavy ticks and tocks of the grave clock on the wall.

I was mortified. I had absolutely no idea what to say. “I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested…” I said hastily.

“Oh, Hermione,” cut in Severus without missing a beat, “you are always so bashful. She is a rather adept Mistress of Potions.”

A faint hint of a smile crossed his features as he squeezed my hand reassuringly.

“That’s what you do, isn’t it, Sev?” Perseus asked, leaning forward onto his widespread knees.

“Yes, it is, Perseus. But I would consider myself a Master rather than a Mistress,” Severus said with an amused gleam in his eyes.

“And what is it you do, Perseus?” I asked him gently.

“I’m in government actually. I’m working my way up the ranks, but as of now I’m working relaying messages from our world to yours.”

“Well, I know what you mean, but there’s no need to call it ‘my world’. My parents are Muggles.”

“Oh ho!” he cried, slapping his knee. “Well done, Sev. Well done!”

“I think so,” he said with a tender glance towards me.

“Here is the tea,” Madam Snape whispered as she entered the sitting room.

I raised a brittle china cup to my lips, and a bitter, black-as-night taste hit my tongue. I almost shrieked in revulsion. I carefully placed it on the coffee table.

“Lovely tea, Mother,” Severus said with a trace of irritation as he placed his cup on its saucer, “but I wonder if you have anything stronger?”

“I have some elf-made wine in the pantry.” She enunciated every breathy word.

“Excellent!” I said a bit too quickly. Severus smiled as his mother retreated once more.

When I raised the crystal glass to my lips, I knew this too would be the strongest I had ever tasted. Six hundred years of fermentation obviously was not for show. The stuff had a kick to it.

“Then I told the house-elf that I would have no more of his antics, and I sent him on his way!” cried Madam Snape, who, within the hour, had been renamed Eileen. She was wiping tears from her eyes, and Perseus and I roared with laughter. Severus was smiling broadly as well.

I then felt something vibrating in my pocket. The baby alarm went off over and over, and I quickly pressed my leg to Severus’s. He understood when I told everyone that I was going to go powder my nose. As soon as I stepped into the dingy bathroom, I Apparated back to Grimmauld Place.

I found myself in my own bedroom. Remus was tenderly bouncing Juliet on his shoulder. She, however, was screaming bloody murder, and her adorable face was red with need. I wordlessly took her from him, and at my touch, she instantly stopped fretting.

“Wow,” said Lupin as he sat on the bed beside me, “If you hadn’t come…”

“It’s all right, Remus,” I whispered through my hummed lullaby to the baby. “I’m here now.”