Our future babysitter
The parlor was as grand as the rest of Malfoy Manor—dark wood, gleaming chandeliers, and a chill that seemed to settle in every shadow. Today, it was hosting Severus Snape. Tall and cloaked, he stood by the fireplace, his gaze moving first to Draco and then to me, his dark eyes assessing but not unkind.
Mother held me close, her grip soft but tense, while Father cleared his throat. “Severus,” he began, his tone formal and measured, “your godchildren.”
Snape’s expression softened ever so slightly as he looked at Draco, who squirmed impatiently, eyes bright and fingers grabbing at the edge of Mother’s robes. He was full of life, demanding attention in the way only a toddler could.
“Mine!” Draco declared, clutching at Mother, casting a look at Snape as if the newcomer were a rival.
Snape raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Quite…assertive, isn’t he?”
Mother smiled, though her gaze flicked nervously to me. “Yes, Draco is… vocal. And then there’s Ursa,” she added softly, a hint of worry clouding her tone.
Snape’s gaze shifted to me, his eyes thoughtful but lacking the suspicion that others might bring to a silent Black family child. He studied me with a detached sort of curiosity, as if wondering how I might grow into this unusual legacy, but not expecting me to live up to it just yet.
“She doesn’t speak?” he asked, his voice mild, more curious than alarmed.
Mother hesitated. “Not yet,” she said, her voice wavering. “Not even a coo or a giggle.”
Father tried to brush it off with a touch of forced optimism. “She’s simply observant. She seems to prefer watching, taking everything in.”
Snape nodded slightly, his expression neutral. “It isn’t so uncommon. Some children choose silence until they find a reason to speak.”
“But, Severus,” Mother said, her voice dropping to a whisper, “you know what they say in the Black family…” She glanced away, her grip tightening on me. “The longer the silence, the deeper the madness."
“But then again,” he added, his tone dry, “the Black family says many things.”
Father gave a strained chuckle. “Precisely, Severus. Ursa is simply…unique.”
Snape inclined his head, though his gaze stayed on me. “Indeed.” He paused, his voice now faintly sardonic. “Perhaps she simply finds none of us interesting enough to speak to.”
With that, he straightened, giving my parents a faintly amused look. “Whatever her reasons, Narcissa, Lucius—she is but a child. I don’t foresee her turning into Bellatrix any time soon.”
The tension broke slightly, and my mother relaxed, her smile faintly apologetic. Snape’s lips quirked, the look of mild impatience back in place as he glanced between us.
“Now, if we’re quite finished with dramatics, I’ll be taking my leave,” he murmured, his tone crisp as ever. With a last, faintly amused glance my way, he turned and strode back to the floo, his dark robes sweeping behind him.
Yet the silence he left behind felt some-what lighter.