Packing and Reflecting
Books had been flying off of the shelves in “Barleywish Palazzo ” (the Prince family home) for the last hour. Their pages rustled as they settled into organized piles, and every time a pile reached the height of her hip, Eileen shrank it and carefully moved it into her bottomless trunk. She had modified it for the first time in fourth year, and since then improved and created new charms to make the thing as light and thief-proof as possible.
One of the many things she’d learned in the Slytherin dorms- anything unprotected was an open challenge for someone to take it. Annoying, but it had taught her a certain awareness of the value items could hold- something that, having grown up in an aristocratic and wealthy pureblood household, hadn’t ever really needed to be thought about. She had never wanted for anything.
She bit her lip, forcing herself to focus, compartmentalizing her feelings of anxiety- she could worry later, she needed to focus now. Her eyes moved across the library as she calculated how much more she had to pack. She expected she would only have another half hour or so. Each pile of books had been carefully inspected, and when necessary (which had been with almost the majority of the entire packing process) she had broken charms and curses that alerted the owners of attempted theft, or worse, harmed the would-be thief. Luckily, most of this had been quick work- the Prince family was notoriously paranoid, and nobody had attempted to steal anything off their property within the last three generations. Eileen was more relieved of that now than she had ever been- the wards had aged, and with her parents focused on social and political maneuvering, the lack of reinforcement meant most had decayed to the point she didn’t even need a wand to snap the fragile tattered remains of magic. The fact that she had to do anything at all though spoke of the fractured state of her family- most purebloods relied upon family magic to keep wards strong, incorporating each generation as they came of age. Family wards such as these were usually nearly impossible to break- but without the generational additions and reinforcement, they became tattered, the magic easily confused and severely depleted.
Looking around, she cast another diagnostic charm on the house-elf that was slumped in the corner, satisfied that Iggy would remain in her charmed slumber for at least another six hours- plenty of time for her to escape. Moving over to the elf who had basically raised her, she gently adjusted the slumped form into a position that was hopefully a bit more comfortable, and charmed the floor below the elf to a softer texture. She would be missed, and a quite stubborn hope persisted that her parents wouldn’t punish or kill her, although the logical side of her knew that if Iggy failed to find her within a few days, she would face a rather brutal execution. Ruthlessly shoving the guilt down, she pressed a light kiss to Iggy’s forehead, then returned to packing, again relying on her long-practiced habit of compartmentalizing her emotions to keep herself focused.
Her parents had learned years ago that the best way to control their daughter was emotional manipulation. For the same reason that only one generation at any time had been added to the wards protecting the family property, her parents hadn’t added her to the bonds involved linking home, family, and elf: She had never regretted showing affection and weakness more than the moment her parents had realized they could use the elf to control her, and now that weakness shown years ago meant she didn’t have the ability to free the elf, despite how desperately she wished to. Now, even at the possible cost of another life that was more of a mother than her own had ever been, she had to escape. She would agonize over the consequences later, after she had escaped.
The books had been the last thing to be packed, being something that might actually be noticed by the generally unobservant heads of the Prince family. (Despite their distinct lack of any academic curiosity or imagination, the library was a point of vanity for her parents, who enjoyed showing off the rare and impressive collection that spanned more languages and centuries than they probably could even name, and broke the laws of more countries than they could hope to visit, had they ever been inclined to travel, which they weren’t). With the final addition to the trunk, the library now had an oddly echoing feel to it. The family still had more books than Hogwarts, but the massive shelves had noticeable large gaps, and the rarest, most valuable old tomes that were family heirlooms were now safely stashed away. Her parents had never read them, and never would- but she might need them. She had a nearly encyclopedic knowledge of spells and charms to obscure and prevent tracking, but her family had a nasty habit of enacting brutal, painful revenge on those that they felt had “failed” the family- part of the reason there were so few of the bloodline left. She hoped to minimize the likelihood of falling victim to that particular insanity by removing the more thorough (and disturbing) tomes on the subject of curses, both to prevent their use and potentially counteract them should anyone with such intent ever find her.
Initially, her plans to leave her family had involved a subtler, more drawn-out process. She’d started plotting it in fourth year, when her parents had begun discussing the merits of a marriage to Fleamont Potter or Orion Black- Orion wasn’t that bad, but Fleamont or “Monty” was beyond annoying… boring to a fault, the consummate “professorial gentleman” (she had mockingly and harshly made a rather cruel joke to her friends Leo and Iris that the only way anyone could tell the man wasn’t “older than dirt” was to look at his birth certificate, and then one might be pleasantly surprised to discover he was only ten years Eileen’s senior, rather than half a century… either way, it was a hard pass for her). Not a bad man, but just so… bland. And while it wasn’t unheard of for a husband to die of a mysterious ailment within the first year of marriage to a Prince, Monty had been top of his class in potions, and Eileen would more likely than not find herself trapped by more than just a marriage vow, should she attempt to escape him using illegal methods. Besides which, after attending the Prewett wedding (a nightmarish experience that she could have sworn cheated time itself- as though they were attempting to make the ceremony itself last the lifetime they were vowing spend together- she had been mildly shocked to find her hair hadn’t turned gray by the end of the ceremony). Even the “pleasant” weddings were painfulto attend, and she had no intention of putting herself through that nonsense.
Then she had met Tobias during one of her experimental trips to muggle London. It had been her first time using the old Portkey she had discovered hidden under a floorboard on the fourth floor. A maritime compass, at first she’d thought it nothing and reached to put it away, then realized it was covered in strong, and very old notice-me-not spells. From there, she’d discovered the surprisingly intact strands of the geographic locus magic. It had taken more patience and effort than anything she had ever done, research, trial and error, mending, destroying, then re-creating charms and runes, but finally after an entire summer of working on absolutely nothing else every hour of every day, she had become confident enough to test what amounted to a repaired, powerful (and best of all, totally unregistered) Portkey. The first time, her adrenaline had been thrumming through her veins, and heart-in-mouth she’d firmly said the phrase “Quercus Palustrid Londeniensi Augsuto” (a phrase which had been carved in both latin and what she believed to be something of the equivalent meaning in sanskrit on the inner shell of the compass). Though she had been able to see and repair the magic on the portkey, she hadn’t known where she would end up, and as such had waited until she’d gotten her apparition license and thus close to the end of Summer, as her parents had become increasingly unwilling to allow her free use of the floo powder.
She had been pleasantly surprised to find herself in an ally off of a bustling muggle London street. The heavy rain had soaked her before she’d even had the chance to mutter a quick weather charm on her person. Hearing laughter coming from a brick and stone building with warm light shining out of large glass windows, she determined it to be a muggle pub, and wand grasped firmly in her left hand (after all, while the pub looked nice enough, one glance around suggested that it was a dodgy area overall) confidently strode over and entered the warm, smoke and laughter-filled establishment. That was the first time she met Tobias Skillicorn. Broad-shouldered, kind and unassuming, she’d been fascinated by him. He had known she was a witch- recognized her wand, and quickly cut in when the bartender had started to comment at her odd appearance and ask for an identification. Tobias (Toby, he insisted she call him) had insisted on paying for her drink, pushing her silver sickle back into her hand, while joking with the bartender saying she was an old friend and he had dared her to try and buy a drink with “fake” money.
Suspicious but thankful, realizing just how out of her depth she was, Eileen played along, and had found herself sitting in a booth across from the large and highly amused man. While she normally didn’t take to strangers- she’d always been a bit odd, stand-offish and had a tendency to be a bit over-quick with her hexes (which had alienated most of her schoolmates), she found that this man, though obviously knowing more about the situation she’d found herself in than she did, wasn’t condescending or boring at all (the two personality traits that were the most likely to shred her already short temper, as they were the exact primary character flaws she despised most in her own family). He explained that his aunt was a witch, and when she’d hesitantly tried to offer her sickle to him, he’d waved her off immediately, saying instead he’d rather have a drink and a chat, if she were willing- if not, then he would leave her be, or help her to wherever she needed to go- her choice.
Eileen had taken this as a challenge, lifted her chin, looked him straight in the eyes, and said she’d prefer three drinks, and wanted to learn more about him. He seemed surprised but utterly delighted by her response- again, so different from the boys she knew in school, who normally were either offended or thoroughly intimidated by her response to attempts at courting. From then, things had progressed quickly- she visited the pub whenever she could, and the booth had become “theirs”- the bartender/pub-owner, an old friend of Toby’s, had taken to leaving it reserved for them. Over 6th year holidays and then during seventh year she used the portkey as often as possible, sometimes taking her friends (Leo Black, and the Pomphrey half-sisters Poppy and Iris). A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she remembered the first time she brought Leo and the Pomphrey sisters. Toby had effortlessly won her friends over within the first hour of meeting them, and after Leo had hit it off particularly well with one of Toby’s friends “from the Provo” Basil O’Connor (the two had odd matching tattoos which they were both a bit vague about), the beginnings of their dates had company more often than not, with Eileen and Leo hurriedly meeting up before dawn to sneak back into Hogwarts together, helping each other adjust mussed clothes, adding quick cleaning charms and transfiguring small details so that they at least gave the impression of having changed outfits.
More often than not they would split a dose of (at the time still legal) Bolivian Bococaita tablets at breakfast, or if they were running especially late, pulverize it into a powder during lunch, and both would be hyper, and chatty, swinging between overly friendly and extremely grumpy with slightly shaking hands until they could crash into much needed sleep after dinner.
Later, Leo would joke that the two of them were personally responsible for the tablets being banned by the ministry. It had been the best year of her life, her friendships and relationship deepening into a sort of affection she’d never known or even realized she’d wanted, let alone ever expected to experience given the cold and utterly proper existence she’d known until that point. Eileen was admittedly a bit cold herself- her friendship with Leo being the oddest thing about her, him being so hot-tempered, quick-to-action, and adored by everyone, and her… not.
She simply had always preferred quiet, the company of her own thoughts, and exploring remote places alone. People were confusing, noisy, and messy. Perhaps if she’d socialized more as a child it would have been different, but she doubted it. She simply was herself, much to her parents dismay. And, as her resentment towards them increased as they began treating her as a top-tier broodmare to sell off, she found that one of her greatest pleasures (and admittedly it was petty, but that didn’t matter) was in disappointing and embarrassing them. Only to a certain point though- when she did something too outlandish, it resulted in focused attention, leading to an immediate reduction of personal autonomy.
It was right before NEWTS that she’d discovered she was pregnant. At first, she’d been terrified, shocked and furious and (under the anger) utterly bewildered and frightened- she was extremely cautious and diligent about casting charms to prevent pregnancy, and even wore a small bracelet with a rune that should have also served to prevent viable egg production. She had barely finished reading the results of her own wand scan before she began to plan out the best time and most efficient abortifacient. She’d ended up needing to consult with Iris and Poppy (the younger Pomphrey girl having already secured an apprenticeship with the Hogwarts infirmary, the elder almost guaranteed an apprenticeship at St. Mungos). Both had emphasized the risks involved in the process, and while willing to help, insisted that at a minimum she have a portkey to St. Mungos prepared.
Then she’d met with Toby. She hadn’t planned on telling him, but he was able to read her in ways nobody else ever had, and immediately insisted on knowing what was wrong. It hadn’t taken much wheedling to get passed her monosyllabic responses and as though she’d completely lost control of own mouth, she found herself telling him everything. He had held her tightly, while gently removing the ale from her shaking hands and pushing it to the other end of their table. He’d murmured comforting words, and she’d managed to stop crying, angrily scrubbing the tears away from her face before forcing herself to make eye contact with him, telling him she had no intention of having a child.
He had regarded her calmly, rubbing gentle circles on her lower back, and told her he loved her, and couldn’t stop loving her no matter what (and he added something about ‘hopeless romantic Irish’ but he was always tossing odd references to his Irish heritage into their conversation, she’d accepted it as a simple personality quirk, the way some people couldn’t stop bragging about what House they were in- it was annoying usually, but Toby made it bearable, somehow). He only hoped she’d let him continue to be a part of her life, and not shut him out.
Sometimes later in life she would think back to that moment. It probably should have been at best a bittersweet memory given what their lives became, but the truth was it was the first time she’d ever felt that she was truly not alone, that someone else felt the same burden that she did, someone was on her side no matter what. She had told him she loved him many times, and meant it in the same fleeting way teenagers tend to, but (and in that moment she knew she would never tell this little truth to anyone, a promise made to herself, and one she kept into the grave) that was when she truly fell blindly, self-destructively in love with her future husband.
Gazing into his warm eyes (an odd light brown with enough green that they seemed to change color depending on his shirt and the light), she’d realized in a sort of haze that she wanted a life with him. A muggle. This had sent her mind back into confused overdrive and she had promised she’d come back within a few days, saying she just needed to think. He’d pulled her into a gentle kiss, holding her face in his hands, searching her eyes and whispered what might have been a demand were it not said in a desperate, pleading tone that he would be there when she returned, pregnant or not.
At least, that was what she had taken from his words- he had a habit of slipping into his native “manx” when he was drunk, or emotional, or (somewhat humorously) during sex, though after thoroughly ruining the mood once, she avoided laughing at his words during their intimate moments, even if she hadn’t a clue what he was actually saying… she wasn’t a virgin, and she supposed there probably wasn’t much of importance said during those moments, regardless of language. It was rather endearing, and only sometimes mildly frustrating when she couldn’t understand him.
She didn’t know exactly if it was simply the realization of how much she loved him, or if there was some other, latent generational magic driving her decision (it wasn’t uncommon for old magic to make itself known and influence decisions of those who were pregnant- rather like a change in hormones, but more insidious and difficult to pinpoint… at least, that’s what Iris told her a few years later, after completing training and having established herself in the neonatal ward of St. Mungos. She never really did forgive Iris for letting that bit of information slip, as she found herself quietly plagued by doubt and “what-ifs” that she would never be able to give voice to.)
Regardless of the reason, somehow she already knew before she even walked out of the pub that night she would give birth to the first half-muggle of the Prince family. Her decision not to abort was met with a great deal of consternation by her friends. Leo in particular had taken her aside, and insisted she know exactly what she was risking- coming from a family that had also developed a rather warranted reputation for being dark, he’d outlined all of the standard practices of “pureblood family” magic, that were still technically legal and used by families such as the Blacks and Princes to ensure the purity of the family tree. If she were lucky, once learning of her condition, her parents would likely lock her away in a windowless room, forcibly terminate her pregnancy, and then marry her off with as many binding spells in the ceremony as possible to prevent her from conceiving with anyone other than their chosen groom.
If she were unlucky, they would hunt down Toby, mercilessly and painfully kill him, and then either terminate her pregnancy or, if she somehow did manage to carry to term, murder the infant, force her to immediately procreate with a pureblood, then likely kill her. Scowling thoughtfully at the ground, she acknowledged this point, then looked Leo in the eye, and asked if he would keep her secret. He’d stared at her a moment, before snapping that he couldn’t believe she’d even asked; she was his best mate, and he’d do whatever he could for her.
She’d hugged him tightly, muttering into his ear that he should have been a Hufflepuff, to which he’d gently yanked her hair and pointed out it was a good thing he wasn’t; if she wanted to have her child and stay with Tobias, she was going to need all of the Slytherin cunning they could muster. They had immediately gotten to work planning, and the Pomphrey sisters had joined, Iris demanding that they all take a vow of secrecy to prevent any accidental slip-ups (this bit with a pointed look at Leo, who at least had the grass to look mildly chastized). They’d all agreed, which had left Eileen shocked and moved beyond words, and the student with the reputation of being an ice-queen had to duck her head to hide her tears and red-tinged cheeks. Poppy had joked that between a Ravenclaw and three Slytherins, it was impossible for them to fail, since they'd not have to deal with brainless Gryffindors or hand-wringing Hufflepuffs, while reassuringly squeezing Eileen’s bony wrist.
Ultimately, what they came up with was a sort of more elaborate but realistic version of her original escape plan from fourth year. It helped that her parents were never around, and since the first murmurings of arranging a marriage, Eileen had taken to making herself appear as unappealing as possible, which had the added benefit of her parents not wanting her present at social functions. This meant she was usually alone in their sprawling house, and gave her plenty of time to plan what to take, and how to avoid the inevitable attempts to track her down and drag her home. The day she’d settled on leaving was one of the first “graduation soirees” of the Summer- specifically, Iris’s graduation party.
Eileen and Iris had faked a “falling out” of their friendship, making her “persona non grata” at the event. Her parents, however, had been given the standard invitation, with an extra note of encouragement to attend. Although Eileen regretted missing her friend’s celebration, she’d had to acknowledge that the plan had the advantage of enabling her friends to keep close tabs on her parents, and send warning if they were to leave unexpectedly.
Finally satisfied she’d packed everything she could possibly use (and taken family items that could be turned against her- old spells to help track blood relatives, curses, etc), Eileen shrank her trunk, shoved it into her pocket and grasped the large portkey (which, despite being a compass, didn’t appear to have any inclination to point north). With four words, she left the Prince property for the last time.
~
Unlike the first time they met, the London evening was cloudless, the bright oranges and reds of the setting sun creating an impression of flames licking across the horizon. Eileen didn’t even have to go inside the pub- Tobias was waiting for her anxiously, pacing the ground in front of it. Upon seeing her, he nearly caused an accident in his rush to cross the street and wrap her in a tight hug, kissing her awkwardly but also passionately. He had eventually been brought into the planning, and though he still was troubled (he was convinced that he should meet her parents and try to talk to them, to which it had taken Leo’s emphatic and very harsh denials, and all four of them- Poppy, Iris, Leo, and Eileen to explain why that wasn’t an option). Eventually Toby had held up his hands in surrender, not happy but also admitting that he knew too little about wixen culture to really make any demands.
Leo had flatly agreed, and told Toby he was dead lucky that Eileen was choosing him, and if he fucked this up, he would just be dead. Eileen had rolled her eyes, but also been secretly touched- while her parents would happily kill over blood-purity based honor, Leo would leap into action because he was a loving friend who cared for her, even if it would come at the expense of his own (far more serious than either were willing to admit yet) relationship with Basil.
It turned out that Toby had inherited a number of odds and ends from his father, including several sets of muggle identification papers for different names. When questioned, he’d shrugged a shoulder and mumbled something about his father having been a spy in World War 2. Leo had told him that he hoped to hear the full story one day, but for the meantime they needed to select one ID for Toby. They ended up going with “Tobias Snape”, and Iris had quickly filled out the gaps in the muggle papers she had managed to take from Mrs. Pomphrey's office at the Ministry.
After that, Iris had managed to arrange for a “government house” for the newly-weds. She’d warned them it was in a bad part of town, but nobody would ever think to look for them at Spinners End. Both Eileen and Tobias were desperately thankful, and assured her that they would make whatever they could get work. Iris had given them an anxious smile, before hugging them both, handing over the papers with the address, and insisting that they wait a year before contacting her, but adding rather severely that if she didn’t hear from them precisely a year from the day, she’d hunt them down.
Tobias had laughed, and suggested that she keep a key to the house and visit sooner. The three friends had merely shaken their heads- Tobias still didn’t really seem to grasp how dangerous the situation was for himself and Eileen. After reiterating the importance of never using the name Prince, they finally got to one of the more painful aspects of the plan- Eileen couldn’t keep her wand. It was too easy to trace, and until she had established some safety, they couldn’t take the risk. They had decided to leave the wand with Poppy, who would hide it on the Hogwarts grounds. That had been two nights ago- final goodbyes and hugs between the friends, and promises of reuniting were made, and then they spent the rest of the evening playing cards, with Tobias buying Eileen’s friends drinks and Eileen the ginger tea that, while not especially good, at least helped settle her stomach and gave her something to sip on while the rest of her friends sporadically toasted each other and laughed. Remembering the final thing she'd wanted to do, she tapped the table to get everyone's attention, before asking formally if Leo Black would be her child's Godfather, and Iris Pomphrey the Godmother. Both accepted enthusiastically, and Leo, never being one to leave well enough alone, quickly asked if he could name the baby. Amused, both Toby and Eileen looked at him, waiting for his suggestion. Toby shook his head, thinking it an odd name, but Eileen had a more thoughtful expression- it actually fit with the Prince family naming tradition, and was similar enough that her mother might even think she'd attempted to name her child after her. Either it would enrage or flatter her mother, either way would be a win for her- a last poke at her parents, and hope that perhaps they'd have softened in attitude and might accept her son in a distant future. Smiling, she agreed and held up her ginger tea, toasting "To Severus Snape's godaprents."
It wasn't until later when they were brushing their teeth at the loft apartment they shared that Basil stopped and suddenly spat out his toothpaste, turning to his boyfriend with a slihgtly incredulous look on his face. "Didn't you used to have a cat named Severus?"
"Well, yes, but he was a brilliant cat. The best cat really." Leo refused to look abashed, shooting his boyfriend his most charming grin, the one that almost always helped him avoid detention in school. Basil just shook his head.
"Eileen's going to kill you when she realizes she named her son after your dead cat."
Leo just laughed, grabbed a glass of water, and went to wait for his boyfriend in bed so Basil could make the Telly show them something besides th black screen.