“What good has wishing done us so far?” Serena asked. Although the question was without malice, it still stung. They both knew the answer to it, and it wasn’t at all positive.
“I wish…” Dierna started again, “that wishing for things would make them come true.”
Serena snorted, “I have a feeling that if that were true, it would only make us miserable.”
“I think that wishing makes us miserable, it gives us hope,” Dierna said bitterly.
“But there is always hope. There has to be,” Serena reached for her twin’s hand, “what would be the point of living if there wasn’t hope?”
Dierna looked away from her sister’s black eyes, “I wonder if Mum…” she sighed painfully, “you’re right, we should still have hope.” It might be the more painful route in the end, but for now, it made life just a little bit easier.
Serena managed a timid smile, “good, now then, let’s get back to my Potion’s homework. Even you have been getting yours back covered in red of late, without your help I don’t stand a chance of passing.”
“You couldn’t pass without my help in the first place,” Dierna jabbed good naturedly.
“I know,” Serena’s smile widened just a bit. Perhaps things weren’t quite as bleak as they seemed. But, just when she was ready to start thinking the best, her thoughts drifted back to their father. Her smile faded. He wasn’t the same, and she suspected that he would never be the same again. Their family would never be the same, no matter what happened, no matter the outcome of the war. They had come too far down this path to turn back now. She worked hard to turn her mind back the reaction sequence that she had been struggling with all evening. But as the minutes ticked by her mind drifted farther and farther away, and into darker and darker territory.
~~~~~~~~~~~
“Thank you,” Nimue leaned slightly against Aias’ arm as he led her back to the temple. When she had said she was going to speak with Cadmus the young healer had been quick to volunteer to escort her down to the beach. She didn’t need the escort, but she enjoyed it all the same.
“Did your meeting with Cadmus go as you planned?” Aias asked as they walked. He made sure to keep the pace slow, knowing that Nimue was in no hurry to return to the temple.
“I think so,” Nimue said carefully, going over every detail of the conversation once again. “I believe he supports my decision.”
“I’m sure he does,” Aias grinned slightly, his father was a man who supported the temple completely, except when he disagreed with the way the priestesses managed a situation. And now was one of those times.
“Do you think that Kalliope will really let me leave?”
“She will not agree with your decision,” Aias said slowly, “but that does not mean that she will prevent it.”
Nimue sighed and kicked at the sand as they trudged up the steep hill leading up from the beach. No one seemed to understand, no one seemed to be completely on her side. She knew, deep in her heart, where she was supposed to be, and it wasn’t at a temple in Greece. She just didn’t know how to convince the rest of the world of that. They wanted what was best for her. But they were blinded by their good intentions.
“There are riders approaching,” Aias said the statement calmly, but still pushed Nimue slightly behind him as he assessed the situation. “They are not a local tribe,” he quickly sized it up, “heading for the Head Priestess’ quarters.”
Nimue stiffened. She couldn’t help but feel that their arrival was going to affect her fate, one way or the other.
~~~~~~~~~~~
“Well… what do we have here? It appears to be a runaway,” Draco clasped his hands behind his back as he looked down at Olivia who had a bag slung over her shoulder and Tristan clutched tightly in her arms.
“Are you going to stop me?” Olivia asked in a belligerent tone, as though daring him to try.
Draco smirked, “that all depends on why you’re running.” He couldn’t express the relief he felt at having finally caught up with his charge. He only hoped that he would be able to undo any damage that Severus had caused. But, for the moment the relief won out and he found himself in a more congenial mood than he would have though possible given the circumstances.
“No one loves me.” Olivia said the words so calmly and matter of factly that there was no doubting that she believed them.
“Well, that seems to be a very good reason, at least it would be if it were true.” Draco felt his heart tighten with emotion as he looked at the forlorn little girl standing before him, so convinced that the entire world was against her. Experience had taught him that it wasn’t the whole world, only most of it that didn’t care for you. He hoped he could teach her that it was the few people that cared for you that made life worth living. As for the rest… if they weren’t trying to kill you there was no point in giving them a thought or moment of your time.
“It is true.” Olivia looked up at him, her face set and determined. She had come to a decision and she was going to stand by it.
“Why don’t we sit down for a minute and you can tell me how you know that no one loves you,” Draco rested his hand on top of Olivia’s head and gently steered her into an empty classroom where he lifted her up onto the wide window sill before perching up there next to her. “Well then, let’s hear your story.” A little more gentle prodding and the whole story came tumbling out.
“I’m bad, and no one wants me around, I’m just in the way, and I’m bad luck, and Dierna and Serena are too busy for me and Daddy doesn’t love me.”
“Well, that’s quite a list. Let’s see if we can’t work our way through it… you are not ‘bad’ child, you are in fact quite a sweet little thing, my little snake, who has a bit of trouble keeping out of mischief.” He paused to ruffle her hair. She certainly was a good little thing, one whose company he quite enjoyed.
“I most certainly want you around, so you can’t say that no one does, I would be incredibly lonely if I no longer had to plan lessons for you. You do not just get in the way, I rather enjoy your company. You are not bad luck, it just so happens that our society has decided to throw itself into war, that’s not something you can help.” He managed to stop himself before he went into a long description of exactly what he thought of society’s apparent taste for war. There were times when his fellow humans disgusted him to no end.
“Your sisters are trying to struggle through their grief and keep up with their school work, I don’t think that they’re mentally able to add you into the mix at the moment, although I’m sure they would love to. And I know that Snape loves you very much, even if he has trouble saying it.”
“No he doesn’t,” Olivia mumbled as she clutched Tristan tightly to her chest. She sniffled a bit, “he won’t let me see my friends any more, and they’re the only ones who make time for me. And he said that if I saw them again he would… he said he was going to spank me,” the last came out in a strangled whisper as tears poured down her face.
Draco had to strain to hear what she had said, and he nearly shocked Olivia into falling off of their perch when he started laughing. He laughed long and hard, leaning against the wall for support, “forgive me if I don’t seem all that sympathetic,” he finally managed to get out, “considering the number of times your father threatened to thrash me while I was his student I find I have a bit of trouble feeling sorry for you.” He wiped away a tear of mirth. “I have found,” he leaned forward conspiratorially once he had caught his breath, “that your father is full of empty threats, with physical chastisement being one of his favorites.” He didn’t add that in his case a few of those threats had actually been carried out. Of course, if he was truthful with himself, he had deserved them.
“I still don’t want to go back,” Olivia said.
“How about if I go back with you,” Draco suggested. “Would that make it easier?”
Olivia sighed, not seeing any way out of this, “I suppose.” She allowed Draco to lift her off the window ledge and took his hand, clinging to it tightly.
~~~~~~~~~~~
“I wish they would get rid of those horrible dragons,” Poppy spoke to no one in particular as she worked at putting her infirmary back in order. She had finally allowed Charlie to leave, but only after he promised he would go straight to bed once he was home. If it had been someone else she probably would have made them stay. But, she trusted any Weasley wife to know how to take care of a patient. Any daughter-in-law of Molly Weasley would have to be a force unto herself.
“I quite agree,” Eric said, readjusting himself on his pillows, “with me around you have quite enough excitement without worrying about dragon related injuries.”
Poppy snorted, “that is certainly the truth.” Satisfied that her infirmary was back to her normal standards she set aside the rest of her work for the night and settled in a chair next to Eric’s bed to share his nightly pot of tea.
“I know you are technically my hostess, but I’m sure you won’t protest if I pour for you,” Eric reached for the second cup, “no cream or sugar, only lemon?” he waited for Poppy’s nod of approval before continuing. He chuckled to himself as he handed the cup over to the nurse, “I wonder what my enemies would think of me now. Murderer of countless victims, the monster who lives in seclusion below the opera house… pouring out tea for a lovely mediwitch… I shall have to include that in my memoirs.”
“You’re not writing any memoirs,” Poppy said with a sniff.
“No, but I should. Not that anyone would read them, but the truth deserves to be out there.”
“You wouldn’t tell the truth, and you know it. You’d write whatever lies took your fancy just to make yourself seem more interesting,” she sipped at her tea while looking at him with disapproving eyes.
“Ahh… but in my case the truth is far more exciting than any lies I could concoct. Although not as happy as I would have liked. There is far too little happiness in life for my taste.”
“You’re a sentimental old fool.”
“And you’re a lonely old bat.”
Poppy pursed her lips together in disapproval, but her eyes were shining. “I don’t know what my life has come to, associating with murders, especially one wanted by the ministry for the greatest slaughter of aurors it has ever seen…”
“I don’t particularly care for company, except for yours of course, and I especially did not want visitors on that day. I have killed, Poppy, and I do not regret it. There are many who have labeled me as a mad man, a dark wizard, a few have called me a genius. And I know I am atrocious to look at,” he gestured to his disfigured face, “but I am a man, I have my faults, and I do not run from them, at least not now. I ran for far too long, and it cost me my ballet girl in the end.”
“You’re not the only one, and you’ll find no pity from me,” Poppy gazed down at her hands, “anyone who remembers Grindelwald or any of the reigns of Voldemort has suffered more than anyone deserves.”
“Marry me.”
“What?!” Poppy looked at Eric as though he had lost his mind, “you’ve finally lost your mind once and for all, you loony old coot. I will do no such thing.” She stood up, straightening her skirts violently.
“Marry me,” Eric captured Poppy’s hand, and held it even when she tried to pull away, “I have precious little happiness left in my life, but what happiness there is, you’re responsible for it.”
“I’m an old woman…”
“And I’m an even older man. We’ve both suffered loss, why not share what little there is left of life?”
Poppy snorted, “you’ve truly gone daft, to think that I would marry you…” she trailed off as Eric raised her hand to his lips. She sighed, “very well then. But you’re in charge of finding an officiate… from your bed! I’ll not have you making yourself worse by trying to wander about, and I don’t want a wedding, a simple legal ceremony will satisfy me. I’m not a girl, after all, who wants flowers and bows and other such nonsense.”
“We’ve both done this before, my dear,” Eric said, “neither of us needs romance, just companionship and whatever love we may find.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I think we better get back now, I’m sure Snape is worried about you.” Draco had allowed Olivia to lead him all over the castle, taking the longest route possible back to the dungeons.
“No he’s not,” Olivia insisted, but she allowed Draco to take her hand and lead her down the hall. They hadn’t gone far when Snape came around the corner ahead of them. Olivia instantly tried to hide behind Draco as best she could, which was rather difficult as he was still holding her hand.
“Where was she?” Severus asked.
Draco looked down at Olivia then back up at his former professor, “trying to run away. We ended up having a rather nice discussion.”
“Olivia, come here.”
Olivia whimpered and remained behind Draco.
“Olivia, now!” Severus’ voice was dangerously hard.
Olivia seemed frozen to the spot so Draco reached down, and with a hand to the middle of her back, gently pushed her forward a few steps. “I’ll be sure to check up on you later,” he promised her quietly.
Severus roughly grabbed Olivia’s hand and all but dragged her down the hallway and stairs that led to their living quarters. “Go get ready for bed, and then I want you back out here,” he ordered as soon as the door closed behind them. He barely spared a glance in the direction of his other two daughters who had come down while he was out. Dierna and Serena were both huddled together on the couch, looking very lost, but Severus turned to the papers that needed grading on his desk.
Olivia reappeared a short time later, dressed in her favorite pink nightgown. Sniffing quietly to herself. She had been too scared to even bring Tristan with her. She wanted her mother, but now she had lost one and was very close to losing the other. There was no one left to comfort her, to reassure her. She had longed for attention, of any sort, from her father. Now she dreaded it. For the first time in a very long while she missed her parents, her real parents. At such a young age she wasn’t able to understand that Voldemort could destroy people much more affectively by leaving them alive then by killing them.
“Stop that sniveling child,” Severus told her with a frown as he reached for his handkerchief. As he thrust the scrap of cloth at her, however, Olivia quickly backed away and hunkered on the ground in a little ball as though she had been struck.
Severus sat in his desk chair, fully shocked, the hand with the handkerchief still held out. And then it hit him. She was scared of him. Not the shy timidity that had been present when she first came to live with them. This was real fear. When did I become my father? But this was worse than any behavior his father had ever exhibited. He had, at least at one point in time, shown affection, in his own way, to his children. His father had never loved him or his mother.
He looked over to Dierna and Serena, silently begging for help. But they were both glancing nervously between him and Olivia, tears in their eyes. What have I done to my children? If Morgan could see this… that thought was almost too painful to hold onto… if she could see this now she would never forgive me.
“Olivia, come here.”
Olivia whimpered and shook her head no from where she was still huddled in a ball on the floor.
“Olivia…” Severus tried to soften his voice, but had a feeling he wasn’t doing a very good job. He had no idea what to do. He felt the rage rise up inside him, it was an emotion he had grown used to. It was the only emotion he allowed himself to feel. It was the only emotion he deserved. The expressions on his children’s faces were the same expressions he had seen on the faces’ of his victims. He had managed to detach himself from emotion when he was a Death Eater, he could summon that control again. He would need that control to see his way through the remainder of the evening. He had very few options left at this point.
Silently he stood up. He could feel his daughters’ eyes on him as he crossed the room. He noticed that Dierna started to rise, but on second thought retained her seat. He did not want to be followed. Is she chose to come after him… he might not find the courage, or the cowardice, to do what he knew had to be done. He had become a liability. They could not afford liabilities, not this time.
He firmly closed the door to his bedroom behind him, satisfied that he would not be followed. His children were too scared of him to dare follow him now. He was responsible for that. And as much as it would destroy Morgan if she knew of it, he now needed that space more than ever.
He was responsible for her current state. He had caused his wife’s destruction. He had caused the destruction of his family. All that was left was his personal demise. Not that he had far to go. His soul was already taken care of. He had lost his soul when he lost Morgan. She would not come back to him. With her had gone any hope of forgiveness for all the sins he had committed. He couldn’t comprehend a deity who was so benevolent to forgive all that he had done in his lifetime. Eric had once spoken to him of unconditional love. It was not a theory that Severus was capable of comprehending. He worked in the tangible world of science. He lived his life knowing that one simple mistake could completely negate the result you were striving for. He had made far too many mistakes to maintain any hope.
His face was grey, and his breathing ragged as he pulled out the evidence of the two biggest mistakes. Two photos, both slightly battered, both showing love, in two very different ways. Two loves that he had never deserved, two loves that he had lost. In the first Lucy, pale and docile, smiled gently at him. Her calm expression held the promise of quiet days spent researching. Of a small and quiet family. The promise of a quiet life. He was responsible for her death, he was responsible for the death of that promise.
The other picture was of Morgan. Her curls blew wildly about her face in the persistent wind that refused to let them go. In between smiling an impish grin up at him she would beat at her hair, her face screwed up in irritation as she tried to tame the unruly curls. She had never promised him the peace and quiet that Lucy had. She had given him more children than he had ever desired. She had interrupted his work, annoyed him, run from him, and he loved her far more than he had imagined himself capable of loving. And yet he had destroyed her. Because of him she lay dying. He had never deserved her. He did not deserve to try and find any sort of forgiveness at her side. He had tried. He had spent hours at her bedside, kneeling on the hard, unforgiving floor, his prayers unanswered. He no longer deserved that sort of empty hope, he had never deserved it. He had never deserved Morgan, or the life she had made for them, or the forgiveness she had so readily offered while she was able.
Severus returned the photos to the drawer he had retrieved them from. They were his past. All that he had now was the past. He had been afforded a few years of happiness, not by divine grace, but by some divine mistake.
All that was left for him was to face all of the mistakes he had made. To relive them one last time. That was his fate. He had to face the bitterness one last time, and then it could be over.
He pulled a small vial from his pocket. Only a few drops of liquid, thick, and red as freshly drawn blood, were there. But it was more than enough. It was enough to send him to the hell that he deserved. The hell that was his own design. The one that he had built, brick by brick, with every mistake and every deliberate action of pain he had ever executed. He was dying.
Morgan’s body betrayed her now, and left only the possibility of death. Severus’ heart and mind were what betrayed him, and they left only the same possibility. He thought about visiting Morgan one last time, of allowing himself to see her face once more. But he did not think that he deserved that. And he knew that with the life he had lived it was pointless to harbor any hope of seeing her again in the afterlife. It was finally over. The small vial in his hand offered on final promise. Immediate death.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
