Pure-bloods and Muggle-borns

Chapter 23 – Pure-bloods and Muggle-borns

Harry Potter made the obligatory niceties to gain entrance into Malfoy Manor. He knew he wasn’t welcome. The Malfoys were social pariahs. Their life, which had been once opulent and full of power, was now isolated and lonely. There were no more friends, no more balls. The pure-blood society, which had been in its day, grand and decadent, swelling in their ranks, were now splintered and driven underground.

Lucius Malfoy had become an old man. He was tired and weary. His hopes lay in Draco, although Draco was not so sure of himself anymore. They were a lost people, living in a social and political no man’s land. How could they not feel Harry Potter to be a cause of the eradication of their world?

Harry was understandably nervous. He didn’t know what to expect meeting Mr. Malfoy. He did not know if he would receive any more answers that would get him closer to the truth or not. Yet, he had to take the chance.

He sat in the salon, after a house-elf had let him inside. Lucius came in slowly without the flourishing gait for which he had been so well known. He was older and weaker. He wasn’t the man Harry remembered threatening him at the Department of Mysteries nearly four years ago.

“Mr. Potter,” he drawled coolly. “I must say I was intrigued to say the least when I received your owl. Although, I cannot fathom what information you could possibly hope to receive from me. I had no idea as to your mother’s clandestine affair with Severus. He certainly kept that tidbit of juicy information from me.”

Harry remained calm. He was done with the days when a Malfoy could get a rise out of him. Lucius was just a pathetic old, obsolete wizard whose life had no place in the new Wizarding world. He deserved pity more than anything.

“Mr. Malfoy, it has come to my understanding that in June of 1982, Severus Snape came here for some sort of gathering, party, or what-not. Do you recall the evening?” Harry asked in his best Auror voice.

Lucius tapped his finger on the handle of his cane in thought. “June of 1982? My, that was over fifteen years ago! I couldn’t possibly say for sure. I do recall the months after the Dark Lord fell. My wife and I were very busy with Draco, you see. He is just a couple of months younger than yourself. I do recall about that time, Severus was starting to come round again after a prolonged absence. Of course, I know now that he was very busy with his newly acquired family. Always a dream of his, you see, making Lily his. It seemed it all fell right into his hands.” He looked at Harry with a taunting glare.

Harry forced himself to stay on point.

“Sir, I want to know about the things you and Snape may have discussed that evening, or any other evening, that might have led my mother to believe she would be better off dead.”

Lucius laughed coldly. “Ah, my deluded boy! You can’t even hope to imagine how things were like back in those days. The Dark Lord might have been gone, but his cause was still very much alive.”

“No doubt through your own influence, I’m sure,” Harry said snidely.

Lucius turned his head with widened eyes, looking at Harry directly with surprise. “You actually think I had the power to make or break the pure-blood movement? Your mother and Severus knew she would never really be free. She would have remained a target forever! Somehow, somewhere, she would have met her end if she hadn’t have taken matters into her own hands.” He then turned his head to the side to gaze out the French windows that walked out into his gardens. “Severus! What an utter fool—thinking he could hide his Mudblood away in his dungeons forever!”

“Watch your language, Malfoy!” Harry growled. “Do not call my mother a Mudblood!”

Lucius turned his head towards Harry and inclined his head in a small bow. “I apologize,” he replied condescendingly. “Severus probably thought he could bring Lily into polite society, marry her, even raise you as his own, but the truth is, Potter, that your mother would have only hindered you. Your life would have been in constant upheaval and danger. Why should that have been? You, after all, have the Potter blood—which is pure-blood flowing through your veins.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you, Potter that you are distantly related to my family? Or did your mongrel uncle decide to overlook that fact? Your grandmother, Dorea Black, who married a pure-blood, Charlus Potter, was my wife, Narcissa’s, Great-Aunt. Her grandfather and your grandmother were brother and sister. That family history would have made you very acceptable in our world, even if your mother hadn’t been pure-blood. That type of lineage would have made you a half-blood, like Severus, but your station would have been much higher. It could have been overlooked that your mother was a Muggle-born, if she had not been Lily Evans,” he mused.

“Why would I have wanted anything to do with the people who murdered my father and tried to kill me and my mother?” Harry spat.

Lucius sneered at him. “I’m not saying you would, just that your mother was marked for death, and while that never would have changed, you were untouchable. You had defeated the Dark Lord. Then, after the Dark Lord’s re-birth, we were under instructions that no one except the Dark Lord could touch you. No danger would have befallen you until the Dark Lord’s re-birth. We, not knowing the complete story, would have tried to ingratiate you into our society. Why do think my son was so gracious to seek you out and offer his friendship to you? Just because of your scar? It was because I told him to. After all, you were cousins. Distant, yes, but nevertheless, your father was a Black. His sire had been a Potter, which is nothing to sneeze at, but it is the mother’s blood that counts for more in pure-blood families. Perhaps that was the reason the Dark Lord hated your father so. He squandered his legacy of a pure-blood.

“His parents were so damned happy they had finally conceived in their dotage, they let him run around like the devil, never teaching him the importance of our ways. Your father was not only a pure-blood; he was a Black. The Blacks have always been the elite of Wizarding Britain. Your father’s marriage to Lily Evans would have been a shock if he had remained with us, however, it would have been tolerated. Lily was a striking beauty. She was a powerful witch, refined and well mannered from what I was told. I only ever saw her in battle.

“You see, Potter, marriage in pure-blood circles holds the same course as the Muggle Royal Family. When a King marries a princess, or even a Lady, she is automatically elevated to the status of Queen. Now when a Queen marries a prince, or a Lord, he can only rise or maintain the station of a prince. Your mother would have been accepted—to an extent—because she would have taken the name of Potter, a pure-blood, and the name Potter would have secured you. However, that would never happen, for she never accepted the world Potter had been born into.

“Severus believed whole-heartedly the old adage, ‘Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.’ Perhaps, that was why your mother killed herself. She knew you would never have a chance at a real life as long as she was around to be a target. Severus would have insisted she embrace the pure-blood world, even if only to work as a spy. However, we never would have embraced her. The Dark Lord had marked her for death. The moment had your mother walked into any of our homes; she would have been killed on sight.

“However, if it had been just you and Severus, you would have been adored and cherished because the stain of your mother would have been removed. We would have taught you, along with Draco, all the rules and traditions we hold so dear. Narcissa would have been a mother to you, and Severus would have had all of the sympathy from each and every pure-blood witch.” Lucius turned from the window he had wandered to during his speech and looked at Harry malevolently.

Harry felt a sense of dread that he had never felt before in his life. He excused himself hastily from the manor and Disapparated as soon as he could back to the boundary line at Hogwarts. He had to talk to Snape once and for all.

***

It was hard, making that trek down to the dungeons he knew so well. He allowed his mind to wander. This was where I lived with my mum. We were a family. Snape was my dad. He had loved me. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and knocked on the door to Snape’s office.

“Enter!” Snape bellowed.

Harry walked in, slowly and calmly. Snape stood immediately, shock evident on his face. He looked pale and nervous.

“Potter,” he whispered.

“Professor,” the young wizard replied.

There was a silence that was so uncomfortable that Harry didn’t even know how to breathe properly. He asked if he could sit, and Snape at first said yes, but then softly said, “Why don’t you join me in my sitting room? It’s a bit chilly here, I think we’d be more comfortable there.”

Harry was gob-smacked. There was no bite or sarcasm in his voice, just a regular person talking to him. He nodded and followed him inside his private rooms.

It was cheery, homey, and lonely all at the same time. He looked around and saw a desk in the corner of the room.

“Was that the desk you told me about?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” Snape answered sadly. He walked over and ran his hand over the edge. “I would sit and read the essays I was grading, telling you what dunderheads they all were, but that you would never be one. Your mother was far too intelligent, and I was going to make sure you were—” He stopped abruptly.

The Potions master closed his eyes in painful remembrance. “Well, it doesn’t matter now,” he finished quickly.

“It matters,” Harry said, feeling his throat constrict. He wanted so much to know the man Snape had been, the man that had smiled at him, and had approved of him—the man who had loved him. He wanted to know the man who had liked it when he had called him “daddy.”

Snape looked him with such anguish and sadness; it was almost too much to witness. He gestured for Harry to sit, and before Snape could say anything, Harry said, “I‘ve been going around, talking to Hagrid, Remus, Minerva, and Dumbledore. I even talked to Lucius Malfoy. I know there are some things that are just too painful, and I respect that. All I want is to ask about the events of the day my mum died. Can you tell me?” he asked hopefully.

“Fine,” Snape answered uncomfortably.

“Um, so how was the day like?”

Snape sat rigidly in a hard chair as he began. “Well, it was a day like all the others: uneventful and peaceful. Lily and I played with you after my classes were over for the day. Then after dinner, I got ready to go to Lucius Malfoy’s house for a party. I had to go and spy on him, see if he was trying to take over the Dark Lord’s position.”

“How did my mum feel about you going over there?” Harry asked.

Snape drew a sharp breath. “She was angry. She told me not to move, and she put you in your room to play so you wouldn’t hear us argue.”

“You and my mum argued?” Harry said unbelievably.

Snape shrugged. “Not really. She was angry at first. She thought I was returning to my old ways. I told her the truth: that I had spying to do for the headmaster. She didn’t understand. She told me I was free, that the Dark Lord was gone, and I could live my own life.”

“And then?” Harry prodded.

The older wizard continued calmly. “I explained to her the realities of the situation. Lucius Malfoy was a real threat. Slowly, he was going to gain power in the Ministry and keeping the movement alive somehow. There were enough Death Eaters around who had not been convicted whom could cause real harm if not kept under surveillance. I did what I had to do to keep my family safe!” he finished heatedly.

Harry felt strange. His family. He was his family, his son. He really honestly had thought of him as his. He could feel the ice between them melting. All the years of hurt and anger were starting to fall away from Harry’s heart.

“How did my mum react to that information?” he said cautiously.

Snape was getting agitated. Harry was getting too close to that dreaded question. Yet, he couldn’t stop now. He was so close. He could feel it.

Snape rubbed his eyes, looked straight into Harry’s and said, “She said, ‘It will never be over, will it?’” Harry looked into the wizard’s eyes. They were so black and cold. He always thought of his eyes as dead. Was that what his mum had done to him?

Harry pondered over that statement. It was so full of despair and defeat. However, there was still something more.

“What happened after that? Did you respond to her?” he asked.

“I said, ‘I will never stop until it is over. Lucius has a son Harry’s age. Lucius will fight to the death to keep his son safe and give him the life he feels he deserves. He is extremely dangerous.’”

“She asked me if I would do the same for you. I was concerned why she would ask me such a thing. She kept on like she didn’t even hear me. She said, ‘You think of Harry as your own son, right?’”

Harry’s green eyes watered.

“I told her of course, that I loved her, and I loved you. She didn’t have to ask! Then she said, ‘You would keep him here and teach him everything about the dark arts, defense, potions—you’d make sure no one ever hurt a hair on his head, wouldn’t you?’ I said, ‘Of course, Lily. You don’t even have to ask!’ Then she told me she loved me.”

He looked defiantly at the boy, daring him to call him a damn liar.

“Then what happened?” Harry asked softly.

The older man was blushing and looking very uncomfortable. Harry knew that look. He looked the same way whenever anyone asked if he was having sex with Ginny, primarily, her brothers.

“You had sex with my mum,” he stated plainly.

“I never ‘had sex’ or ‘shagged’ your mother!” Snape roared. “I respected her! What we had was—was special!”

Harry nodded humbly. As a man of honor, he could respect how another honorable man would take offense.

“I apologize, sir,” he whispered. “You and my mother had relations, correct?” he asked politely.

Snape nodded curtly with a jerk of his head. “She instigated it. I was feeling overwhelmed by her—hell, Potter! I can’t talk to you about this!” he shouted as he stood and turned his back to him.

“You can, sir,” Harry said reassuringly. “I don’t need to know details, just things that could be important.”

Snape drew a deep breath and spoke with a staccato voice. “A-Afterward, I was deeply touched and felt so much gratitude in my heart that your mother loved me and wanted to give herself to me. I told her I wished I could take her with me, that she would have been the most beautiful witch in the room—and it was true! Your mother would have made each one of those pure-blooded beauties look like dull Knuts!”

Harry felt a surge of pride that his mum had been so lovely and a deep tug of respect for Snape’s loyalty to her. He sat back and let what Snape said resound in his thoughts.

“What else happened?” he finally asked after an uncomfortable silence.

“Nothing,” he said bitterly. “She wished me luck, and I was off. When I returned, she was—gone,” he whispered sadly.

Harry sat and thought about all the things he had heard. There had been something Malfoy said that seemed to ring true.

“Severus probably thought he could bring Lily into polite society, marry her, even raise you as his own, but the truth is, Potter, that your mother would have only hindered you. Your life would have been in constant upheaval and danger. You, after all, have the Potter blood—pure-blood flowing through your veins… That made you a half-blood... It could have been overlooked that your mother was a Muggle-born, if she had not been Lily Potter.”

“… Your mother was marked for death, and while that never would have changed, you were untouchable… Perhaps, that was why your mother killed herself. She knew you would never have a chance at a real life as long as she was around to be a target.”

Snape still had his back to Harry, but it didn’t stop the younger wizard from getting the truth. “Sir,” Harry began, “I went to talk with Lucius Malfoy, and he told me some very interesting things—observations if you would—about my mum and reasons she may have killed herself,” he said slowly.

Snape turned around halfway and narrowed his eyes. “Really?” he replied sarcastically as he sat back down.

“Yes. He said that that you were deluded, thinking you could ever bring my mum into ‘pure-blood society’ as your wife. He said the truth was that my mum would only have hindered me.”

Snape slowly turned around. His eyes began to blaze, his pale face twisted with anger.

Harry went on. “He said that my mum was marked for death, and that never would have changed. However, I was untouchable. I wasn’t in the type of danger my mum was in. He said he thinks that’s why she killed herself. He said, ‘She knew I would never have had a real life as long as she was a target.’”

Snape stood and again turned his back to Harry. It was too much. Could it be true? Lily had killed herself because she had felt she had been a hindrance to Harry? He remembered her suicide note.

“Don’t hate me. I did it for Harry.”

He bent his head as he grasped the bookshelf in front of him. How could it be true? How could she think life would be better off without her?”

He felt the tears slide down his face. Could it be she didn’t really loathe my touch after all?

He felt a hand on his back, and he stiffened in an involuntary reflex. He turned around, and there was his boy, looking up at him with those eyes, his mother’s eyes: the eyes that took his heart all those years ago. He grabbed his son and embraced him. Harry returned the embrace. Father and son were reunited at long last.

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