Snape
Snape will never admit to anyone that he had almost cried that day. He considered obliviating Pomfray when she had implied that he did, in fact, tear up. He stood there for no more than a minute behind the closed infirmary doors, not having the guts to face what he could have prevented if had he only agreed to house Draco this winter.
This wasn’t the plan. He was supposed to be okay and not dying of blood loss in the very school where he sought refuge at times.
He still remembers the day Narcissa and Lucius sat him down, asking his permission, for his desire to be Draco’s godparent. He’s never agreed to anything as quickly. The day his twenty-year-old self cradled the newborn infant in his hands will forever be ingrained in his head, as that day marked his realisation that he wasn’t alone, that no matter how much he isolated himself, he had people who cared and wanted him around - enough to trust their only child to him as almost his own. That day he swore to do anything to protect the boy’s smile, and since that day he did everything but keep his promise. Sometimes when he’s feeling lonely, he replays the day Draco realised that Severus was just a family friend and not actual blood, how the little boy was clutching onto him, saying that he doesn’t care, that he was family in Draco’seyes and that would never change. Unlike Severus, Draco was much better at fulfilling his vows. Even now, an occasional ‘Uncle Sev’ would slip through his lips in the hallways or classroom, he always apologised with his face blushing while other Slytherins just giggled around.
Narcissa’s pregnancy was stressful for everyone, and during some meek nights Lucius would floo to his place, saying that he was worried she’d pass, that he’d lose her and their unborn, and that was when Severus found solace in potions. He’salways been good at them. But now, now he was great. The idea that his creation helped Narcissa get back on her legs warmed him inside out. That Draco was here because they all tried. He taught Draco, too.
Yet, now he stood here, in the halls while his clothes reeked of his boy’s blood, his hands now carried his ghost while not so long ago he carried him around like his own. He could not help but think of the last time he carried him, and that thought made it all that much worse. Because the last time was not all that better in retrospect.
Lucius and Narcissa were off to France, they had only just finalised their plan for some new property investment there, and Draco was left in the care of his grandfather, however, both parents approached him separately from each other, secretly, and asked him to do an occasional check up on Draco. They were gone for less than a week. Six days at most. In those six days, he and Draco experienced a lot of their ‘lasts.’ The boy had supposedly misbehaved and got punished by Abraxas, and on one of those occasions Severus happened to walk in, he saw the little boy plastered on the floor - heaving - while the older man held his wand at him, sneering in disgust and reprimanding him for being so childish, snarling that he should start acting like an adult. Adulthood - a concept that was unbeknown to children. Especially seven-year-old boys with all the love in the world. When Abraxas noticed him, he calmed himself and left the room, leaving Severus and the manhandled doll alone. Severus rushed to the unconscious boy and picked him up, taking a floo back to his place to heal Draco in comfort. That was the last time he carried him. Since then Draco never asked for ‘kiddish’ things, even though his eyes begged otherwise.
On one of those nights, Severus stopped by the manor to read Draco a nighttime story.
“Where are the books, child?” He asked as he took note of the empty shelves that used to be filled with Draco’s favourite stories, Draco did not even look up from his lying position in bed as he answered.
“Grandfather took them. He said I’m too big now,” he was silent for a moment before continuing, “he said that you should stop reading to me, or else he’ll close the floo.”
At the time, Severus agreed, but before leaving he promised Draco his last story, and so the boy fell asleep to the tale of ‘the lone lily and the lonely stag.’ Now, however, Severus regretted ever listening to Abraxas’ empty threads, as Narcissa or Lucius would have granted him access again within days. He regretted not reassuring the little boy that it was alright if he wanted to still be a child. But he did not. Years passed and he was still a kid, only fifteen, but already carrying the burden of his family’s sin.
There was a point when Severus was concerned that Draco might lose his mind. Not because of external aspects but merely for being a Black. He used to be worried that one of these days someone would trigger the Black in him, or that Narcissa would fall into delirium, and Lucius would lose them both to their genes. With Bellatrix in the Malfoy Manor for a month now, he was very pleased to find that no Malfoy curved under her heel, and with the Dark Lord looming over them daily - he was even more surprised to find Malfoys still untouched and still in love.
He wondered if he could have had that with Lily had he been braver and not a coward who was too dense to grant a child more youthful days. No, he realised, she would have been so disappointed.
Pomfray demanded he leave the moment he placed Draco onto the hospital bed, that she needed all the space possible.
“Severus, they need you there now more than he needs you here, so go… and also, it’s okay to cry at times like these.”
He could count all the times he had to run in his life. The werewolf incident with James and Black, or when Narcissa was in labour. Another time, the one he shudders at the most is to the Potters’ house on that grave day. When he was late to Draco’s fifth birthday, he also rushed to the floo after hearing the boy cry his name in Narcissa’s Patronus. But now, even bolting through space and time appeared hopeless, so he strutted back through the corridors, dismissing the looks of portraits and ghosts, silently beseeching to Merlin that Draco would not arise in front of him in a diaphanous state.
When he reached the dining hall, before opening the doors, he composed himself despite the metallic smell luring him into a frenzy.
Once inside, he knew instantly to go up to Narcissa, to hold her. He was ready to embrace her like he did so many times before - either for him or for her, at times them both desiring consolation in each other’s tenderness, but he feared that this would send a false message publicly. Internally, Severus already knew that today his public guise would forever change. He went from Snape to Severus, right in front of all, as Narcissa clung to him for dear life, and he did nothing but return the urge. He is a greedy man. He needed her as much as she depended on him at that moment. He was a weak man, too, feeling his heart drop with an empty pang in his chest - chills overtaking his body as Draco’s blood daubed Narcissa wholly.
Then, she opened up about the manor. That second, he realised what had transpired at their place, and he knew better than to stay still, so he instructed his students to shut down all communications via their houses, and he knew that perhaps this action saved a few more lives today. His gaze fell on some of Draco’s friends, feeling for them.
As all the other students were rushed out by Dumbledore, he remained by his dear friend’s life, hoping that their other friend was still alive and that Draco didn’t lose his father on top of everything that night. When the dining hall was empty of everyone but the adults, Severus knew to breathe again.
By his side, McGonagall was the first one to kneel at Narcissa’s level, as Severus sat her on a chair a minute earlier, “Dear, would you like some tea? I have biscuits, too,” she said as she eyed one of her old students, her expression tightened but a smile sill one, “Dumbledore, take them to yours, I will be there soon,” she ordered before getting on her feet and walking away, the sound of her timid heels reverberating in the halls. They too, made their way out to a different office now.
“Now,” said Umbrige as she twirled around and closed the door behind them as everyone entered the office, “why don’t we discuss why you, Mrs Malfoy, so dearly lied about You-Know-Who’s presence?”
Narcissa could not contain the fury in her eyes, as she approached the woman with her want pointing at her throat, forcing Umbrige to take a step back, her eyes narrowing, “Lied? Did you see what was done to my son? Your student? Who would have done that, the house elf?” She sneered at the woman, the Malfoy tone palpable through bones.
“Maybe it was that lousy husband of yours, I’ve heard he has a sturdy hand,” Umbrige kept incensing up on Narcissa, evidently purposely obtuse, for what - Severus did not know.
‘A sturdy hand’ would suit only Lucius’s outside persona, Severus thought, he might have even chuckled at the thought if it weren’t for the situation at their premise. Just like Narcissa, Lucius is a dear friend of his. He won’t lie, the man has less redeeming qualities than most people would, however, he has never encountered a man who is so wholeheartedly devoted to love, who worshipped his wife and son on a level that others would be fortunate to even hear of. Of course, he isn’t without flaws when it comes to that. Severus still remembers the night when Lucius has apparated to his house, pained. Inebriated. He had one of his characteristic altercations with his parents who attempted to press the couple to produce another heir, a ‘spare,’ and after seeing Narcissa almost face her demise - and Draco’s depleted immune system that often got him in unwarranted tribulations - Lucius categorically refused.
The blond man later revealed to him that he had once forced Narcissa into the idea of a second child and that he faced the consequences. Narcissa had a miscarriage, a few of them, as if her body was protecting her - knowing that she wouldn’t survive. It had created a drift in their relationship and her sanity. She was devastated. Bedridden. That same week, Draco had riled Lucius, asking for something, and demanding to see Narcissa, and while usually those would not be a problem, that week had been rather hectic for Lucius, as he had described. He lost his temper and in fury struck his child across the face. To Severus, that was a surprising discovery, but all he did was barely raise his brows and curled his fingers until they clenched a fist. Draco didn’t even flinch, just stuttered a meek “yes, sir, sorry, sir,” and continued as if nothing had happened, Lucius almost brokedown because he understood that his own father was the reason for that reaction, or rather lack of it, that he was nothing more than his pawn - a sheep - and now he was dragging his son and wife with him into misery. His idealisation of pureblood doctrine lost him the most cherished thing. The safety of his family. Severus only listened, admiring the man for his introspection, but simultaneously in disdain of his pronounced servitude. He then understood where Draco got his submissive qualities from.
However, that choice of words was enough to instigate a response in the already weary Narcissa, so she pressed her wand onto Umbrige, hissing at her, “Do not dare to speak of my husband like that.”
“Enough!” Dumbledore proclaimed on time, as mere seconds later McGonagall and Cornelius Fudge stepped in.
“The Minister of Magic was summoned,” Minerva explained.
The whole process was… tedious, for lack of better terms. Severus was getting frustrated with the minister’s incapability to grasp the fundamental truth, getting more aggravated by a certain beetle’s rustling, almost certain that he had heard its susurration. However, at one point the truth was undeniable. They had interrogated Narcissa about the reason why she didn’t give out their location at first, with her only answering that she was threatened. In actuality, she didn’t want to, she didn’t see the point, however, their planning to involve Draco in their schemes irked both Malfoys the wrong way. In addition, while she was not threatened, she most definitely would have lost her life as an example of what happened to traitors. Traitor. A word now forever carved on the faint skin of his godson.
After an hour, it was final - Voldemort had returned.
They scheduled to raid the manor, providing access back to the Malfoys. Narcissa almost shrank at that.
“What is it, Narcissa?” He questioned.
“I’m not certain Lucius made it, how could he? I think I am alone,” she whispered in the safety of the room.
“You have your family, you should be grateful,” huffed Umbrige, crossing her hands on her chest and giving a roll of her eyes.
Again, Narcissa looked like she could slap her, and Severus would have permitted it if it weren’t for the minister in the room with them, “One of my cousins is dead,” she looked at the minister as she said the next part and then back at her, “and the other one is a murderer on the loose. I have two sisters, one is ousted and the other one is an insane lunatic. My parents are dead. My husband and in-laws are as good as gone now! AND MY SON IS DYING!” She bitterly laughed after a few seconds, “family,” she chewed out.
Her patience and nature were getting the best of her today, as Severus had only ever seen her like this once or twice before in their over-a-decade friendship. While he had known both Malfoys for two decades, Narcissa still as Black then, seeing as he’d met them as prefects while in his first year in Hogwarts, but he’d only come to be their friend much later. He grimaced as he thought that once he held Bellatrix and Rodolphus much closer than the Malfoys.
“Darling, you are not alone, you have us now,” McGonagall said as she placed her hand on Narcissa’s shoulder, and seeing how responsive she was, she gave her a close hug, whispering something into her ear which drew a chuckle out of the younger woman.
Severus stood before Narcissa, too, “you have me.”
She gave him a grateful look, eyes almost melting with admiration. As selfish as Severus was - he was loyal, which made him a good lover and a better friend, and he was glad that at least the aspect of friendship was able to be fulfilled in his life, with two women named after flowers.
Their moment was interrupted by Umbridge, “If the ministry is going forward with these claims of impunity amongst the dark wizards” her voice bright, “I don’t see any further reason to remain here.”
“Right,” Fudge said, following by saying that she is not required on Hogwarts grounds any longer and she may return to her duties at the ministry, to which she happily glimmered and left. He, too, left soon, following her shorty behind, but before he left he turned to Narcissa, “I am beyond horrified to have heard your story, Mrs Malfoy, accept my deepest condolences. After the raid, the Malfoy Manor will be placed under protection charms. Until then, and after if you wish, your whereabouts will not be disclosed to the public for safety measures. I hope Draco’s recovery is that of a good result.”
“Thank you, minister,” she said with a tight smile. With that, he left.
McGonegall clasped her hands and turned to Dumbledore, “Albus, with one teacher short now, do you think we could possibly give Mrs Malfoy the position of the D.A.D.A professor, if she is keen to take it?” She gave Narcissa an encouraging look. The younger woman was lost in thought, for nearly not enough, but she agreed. Likely, to be close to her son.
“Well,” Dumbledore seemed pleased, “I am happy to announce that we have found a new professor.”
Severus allowed himself to smile at that.