Rough Times

The end of the school year was near – everything from the sweet breeze to the low, vaporous clouds in the sky of kaleidoscopic blues announced the long-awaited arrival of Summer in the Scottish Highlands. Soon Minerva would be standing before the beloved lochs of her childhood to relish the sight of waters, mountains and skies brought together by the sun's higher path; such delightful visions had already taken over her mind, so much so that the last days of term had passed like in a dream.

She was in such a state of felicity that when she glimpsed, as she was coming back from Pomona's greenhouse, the pale face of Severus Snape further down the pathway, she instinctively concealed herself behind a tree, startled by the sight of his grave expression in this splendid afternoon. As usual, he looked out of place. But she had no wish to avoid him; rather, she could have sworn he was walking in the company of someone, and she had spontaneously felt that she should not intrude on that particular tête-à-tête. She sat on the bench nearest to her, hoping that she would remain hidden from view by the bush that separated her from the dirt track. But their footsteps stopped just near her. She cursed herself, realising that she might just have put herself in an uncomfortable situation. At least she had a book with her, so she would not give the impression of being there to eavesdrop. The footsteps progressed no further; now she could only hear voices, that of Professor Snape and a woman. She turned slightly to her right, glancing over her shoulder, and caught a glimpse of a figure that she had not seen since her early school years.

It took her a few seconds to come up with the name – Eileen, Eileen Prince. Snape. The boy's mother. How old she looked! There was no more than five or six years between the two of them; she was quite sure that Eileen had been in school when she was in her first and second year at least. Yet Time seemed to have come after her first. She had been thin, now she looked bony - her long raven hair was now entirely grey, and the paleness of her skin was tarnished by several brownish marks on the right side of her face.

"No, mother," her son was saying, looking away. "I will stay here."

"But you must come home. We need your help around the house. I want you there with me."

"I need to work on my doctorate."

"You can do so at Spinner's End."

Severus frowned. Though Minerva could not understand why, his cheeks had turned a deep shade of red.

"Are you quite insane? Have you forgotten everything about potion making and its basic requirements?" He looked cast down but not angry, which created a strange contrast with his tone. "Magic, mother. Potion-making requires magic. Do you even remember what that is?"

The older woman shook her head, glancing back at the castle.

"Do not talk to me like that."

But Severus went on, staring at her intensely.

"Do you expect me to hide in my room to do magic or study? Do you really wish to see me reduced to that state again? And Tobias? I am sure he would be thrilled to see me, my books and my wizard robes in his house again. What a heart-warming family reunion that would be!"

"You don't know him. You have barely seen him these past ten years. Sometimes it gets better."

"And the next you find yourself with a broken nose and a displaced rib. It is true that he was always good at maintaining suspense. One could never get bored in such a house."

Eileen glowered at him.

"It is your father you are talking about."

"Precisely. I have told you both that I will never step foot in the house again as long as he's alive, and I intend to keep my word. Besides, I have the means to support myself. Even if I chose to leave the school over the holidays, I would not be bound to return to Cokeworth as you so clearly seem to believe."

Minerva bit her tongue. She really should not be here. And yet if she got up now, there was not the slightest chance that she would leave unnoticed. Eileen lowered her head.

"You must let go of your past grudges. It is not good for you", she whispered.

For some reason, that sentence seemed to be one too many for Severus. The muscles of his face grew tense; he straightened up; he stared at his mother with cold and yet furious eyes. She took a step back.

"Where is your wand, mum?" he asked abruptly. "Show it to me."

"Why?" Eileen asked, glancing once more in the direction of the castle. Her son moved closer.

"Show it to me", he repeated, his voice barely audible.

She grew paler.

"I do not have it with me."

"Where is it?"

"I left it at home."

"At home."

He paused. Minerva held her breath.

"You came all this way", Severus continued slowly, "all this way to Hogwarts, and you did not think about bringing your wand with you."

Eileen held her son's gaze, her face motionless. Her eyes were as dark as his.

"Does it matter?"

Severus blinked leisurely.

"He broke your wand years ago", he said, his tone bizarrely detached. "He broke it when I was fifteen."

"I do not know what you're -" Eileen began, but her son did not let her finish. He was, still, looking directly into her eyes.

"You must have forgotten it by now, mother", he said softly, "but there are many branches of magic. I am familiar with a good number of them. Lying to me is of no use any more."

This time, she did not reply.

"He broke your wand, mum. This is not about grudges. This is about who we are", Severus added in a whisper.

He lowered his gaze.

"If… if you ever leave him, I will come visit you. Whenever you want."

But this time it was she who dared to look at him with such anger and disgust that he took a step back, not saying another word, patiently waiting for what was to come. She spat on the ground next to him.

"How dare you tell me what to do, Severus", she said, her voice almost as low as his. "Do you think you are better than me, than us? Tobias was right – we should never have sent you here. There's nothing for us here. Even you look down on us now."

The younger man did not look up.

"You seem determined to misinterpret me, mother. But I understand. Things are simpler when you look at them under a manichaean lens. I thought so too, not that long ago."

Eileen shook her head furiously. "You disgusting, disgusting boy! How dare -"

"Have you ever wondered, mother", he cut her coldly, "have you ever wondered why is it that you are so desperate to defend him and that lifestyle of yours? Is it maybe because, if you were to open your eyes, you would realise that he has taken everything from you, that you are not only out of place in the wizarding world now, but have also always been so in the muggle world?"

Her mouth opened, but she did not speak.

"And why is it that you are so desperate to see me now? Have you grown tired of suffering alone? Do you require, again, a fellow sufferer?"

Timidly, she tried to touch his arm. He recoiled.

"I want you to come home because I care -"

"If you cared about me, you would not ask me to see him again. Not even for a second."

There was a heavy silence. Minerva had closed her eyes; she was holding her face in her hands, not daring to move. Her heart was pounding. She felt sick.

She had not known. Not even suspected.

"Then I do not ever want to see you again", Eileen finally spat out. "You were always vicious. Useless."

That was Minerva's breaking point. She could take it no longer. Without thinking she got up and slowly walked towards them, her face impassive though her hands were shaking slightly. She stopped at a respectful distance; caught off guard, Severus looked at her in astonishment. His mother gave her a benumbed look.

"Pardon the intrusion", she said in an almost perfectly casual tone, "I was coming back from the greenhouse. Pomona has advised me that your Datura roots are ready, Professor Snape. She is expecting you."

Severus did not reply. She turned her attention to Eileen.

"You must be Professor Snape's mother. We were at school together for a few years, if I remember correctly. Your son always was a remarkable student. He has only been with us for two years as a teacher and the school is already in his debt – he makes a wonderful Head of House. Did you know the incident rate in potion classes have drastically declined? He has become quite essential to us. You can be proud of him."

For a moment, Eileen looked conflicted. She opened her mouth; but then, her lips thinning, she closed them, staring in the distance obstinately. Minerva narrowed her gaze.

"You should be proud of him", she repeated coldly, watching her carefully.

The other witch did not react. Instead she turned her head in the opposite direction.

"I need to go back", she muttered, making to leave. Severus stirred. "I know the way", she told him.

She stopped, glancing at Minerva. "Thank you. Good day."

They watched her leave in silence. It was only when her silhouette had disappeared in the hilly landscape that Minerva dared to look at her younger colleague, who still stood beside her.

He was pale, so very pale; his hands were trembling slightly; he was breathing through his nose, as if to calm himself.

He looked so young.

"I apologize, professor", she said timidly. "I assure you I did not mean to intrude. But I was on the path when -"

"I know."

She put her hands behind her back, looking at the castle before them.

"I am sorry", she said after a while. "Some people are trapped and there is nothing we can do for them, no matter how hard we try." She paused. "You must look after yourself first."

Severus did not reply, and she could not tell whether it was because he was incapable of speaking, or if he had chosen to stay silent. Carefully, she placed her hand on his arm.

"Come. It is almost time for dinner."

He glanced at her hesitantly.

Then, nodding slightly, he murmured:

"Thank you, professor".

She smiled softly.

"Call me Minerva, dear."