20

* * * November 23, 1997 (continued)* * *

"Now, have I assuaged your burning curiosity, or will you keep me from reading the second-years' essays still longer?" asked Snape without a trace of a smile.

Draco grinned, though; he knew the Potions professor disliked marking essays--possibly almost as much as he hated to reveal personal details about himself. "If you can bear putting it off a bit longer..." Snape sniffed and rolled his eyes, but he refilled their teacups.

Now came the difficult part. Draco swallowed hard. "I guess... I was wondering more about how you..."

Even with Draco, Snape had limits. "How I what? Courted her? Convinced her to marry a misanthropic bastard like myself? I understand you've had some success with Miss Parkinson; I hardly think you need advice from me on the process--"

"Not that! It's... oh, never mind. You're right, Uncle Severus. Thank you for the tea." He stood up and prepared to depart, his face suddenly flushed and warm.

"SIT." The weight of Snape's glare alone was enough to collapse his knees. He took the chair again with a reluctant sneer. "First you're stammering, now blushing like a blooming Hufflepuff; if this keeps up, hell's going to freeze over and demons will ice skate. What's the matter, boy?"

What's the matter? What's NOT the matter would be easier. "The Dark Lord's been dead for months, but you never told anyone about her," he blurted. "Why?"

Snape folded his arms and eyed him narrowly for some time before answering. "Admittedly, once Voldemort was dead, there was little need to keep her secret any longer. I suppose in part it's become a habit. Her circumstances are not exactly conducive to breaking it, either. She doesn't wish to parade around on my arm; she's far too shy and fearful for that. And I can only imagine the reaction if I suddenly announced that I had a secret wife, whom no one had ever seen or met, and indeed, whom I couldn't even name. I think my sanity would come into question pretty quickly, don't you?"

He smirked. Draco didn't. "Is that it?"

The professor frowned and studied his teacup for a moment. "There's also a certain... concern about revealing her identity," Snape admitted cautiously. "There are always fanatics, Draco, who would fear her just for being his daughter. She doesn't want a lifetime of distrust and accusations on his behalf. Nor does she deserve--" Snape halted in mid-sentence, his jaw dropping in surprise. Draco had turned to face the fire, but not before Snape had seen his eyes welling up.

Busted again.

"There's a girl, Uncle Severus," he began in tired resignation. "I don't... I'm not sure what there is, there might be... but I do know one thing. Mum and Dad won't approve. Nobody would approve. She's not at all the sort of girl they'd expect me to pick."

Draco jumped up and strode to the fireplace, resting his elbows on the mantel and hanging his head in his hands. "She's not the sort of girl I ever expected to pick, for that matter. And I'm quite sure she never expected to pick me, but I think she has. At least a little. But I don't know what to DO!" He screwed up his face, squeezing his eyes tightly shut in hopes of driving back the stupid tears that kept threatening to spill.

Snape's chair creaked, then the older man was beside him, also staring at the fire. They stood in silence for a long time before Snape spoke. "If you're hoping for a load of permissive claptrap about 'following your heart,' Draco, you should seek advice from the Headmaster," he began in a sharp tone. "However, as one who has taken up a dangerous and forbidden union, I... concede there are more important things in this world than the approval of others," he continued grudgingly.

"There are many times when I wish my wife could live here with me. I wish that both the curse on her voice and her father's name would disappear, that she could be free of fear. I was angry with Voldemort, and I continue to be angry with wizard society, for forcing her to live in exile. But never have I questioned or regretted our marriage, Draco. Not once.

"Your father would have you find a well-heeled pureblood girl and settle into a convenient marriage, to spend your passion on lavish pursuits and mistresses. This is what he did, and what his father did before him, and so ad infinitum. All have done what was expedient and politically savvy, and it brought your family wealth and power. If such things are what you desire, Draco, then all you need do is follow in their footsteps. Such is the price of keeping intact the Malfoy name and fortune."

Snape turned to face him, and Draco met his unwavering gaze. "If, on the other hand, you stray from the prescribed path, you will have a different sort of life than your father, or his. Whether it will be a better life, I can't say, only that it will be different. It's up to you to decide which direction to take, Draco, and I urge you to think carefully about the consequences of both."

Draco rose to his full height and nodded. "Thanks, Uncle Severus," he said softly, then clasped his shoulders in a quick, firm squeeze and departed.

Snape shook his head as he watched the young man leave. Gah! Severus, you're going soft, he thought to himself. Snape was not prone to bouts of self-doubt, but he knew Lucius would expect him to steer Draco toward a "sensible" lifestyle, especially since Lucius was in Azkaban and no longer able to impose his will on his son by himself.

But the fireplace flared emerald green and a pint-sized witch clambered from the flames and tackled him, throwing him back into the armchair with a silent laugh and dozens of rapid-fire kisses, and Snape's uncertainties were soon forgotten.