A Daughter of Snape, a Son of Malfoy

Chapter Six

Nerissa flung open the door of the Potions classroom. Her father sat at his desk, quill in hand, with a huge book open. A stack of parchment lay next to the book. He glanced briefly at the parchment, each someone's Potions homework, before scrawling something in the book.

"All right," she said resolutely, striding to the front of his desk. "What happened to my mother?"

Snape looked up and jerked his head toward the door, making sure no one was lurking there to overhear their conversation. He slammed the book shut and rose from his chair.

"Nerissa, come with me at once," her father barked, and she knew not to argue. He led her out of the Potions classroom and down to a dark corner of the hall, stopping at a door Nerissa had never noticed before.

"Nymphus Maris !" he said firmly, and the door opened. He ushered Nerissa inside and glanced up and down the corridor before shutting it securely.

She stood in the center of a dimly-lit room. Bookcases brimming with thick tomes lined the walls, and well-burned candles sat on every flat surface. A tiny, octagonal window above the writing desk was the room's only source of natural light. Only when she saw a bed and wardrobe did she realize that these were her father's quarters.

Near his bed was a small, framed picture of a young, lanky-haired, sallow-skinned wizard holding an infant girl who was blinking slowly. Next to that was a photo of a small dark-haired girl dressed in Muggle play clothes. Nerissa watched as the girl waved shyly at the camera then took off running and jumped into a pile of autumn leaves, exploding into laughter. It took her a second to understand that she was the little girl in those pictures.

Snape watched his daughter as she studied the photos, and then he opened the wardrobe next to the bed. It was, predictably, filled with black robes and shoes. He shoved several of the robes aside, began rummaging through the closet, and pulled out a small object.

"From your first birthday," he said, shoving a rectangular box gift wrapped in dark blue paper dotted with stars and crescent moons into Nerissa's hands. "Open it."

She did as she was told, tearing open the box and pulling out a tiny cloak of deep purple velvet. She looked up at her father, her face a mixture of shock and regret. But Snape wasn't about to allow his opportunity to make a point slip away.

"Your second birthday," he handed her another present, and she opened it to find a plush stuffed cat doll (black, of course.) This odd parade of presents, each meticulously wrapped and stored in the bottom of Snape's wardrobe, continued until Snape had presented her with dolls in the likeness of famous witches, more robes in children's sizes, an embossed quill, a pair of dragon-hide gloves that felt as soft as kid leather, all the gifts from the birthdays he had missed.

"You got all this for me?" Nerissa asked softly, as if she could not quite believe what she had just seen.

"I am many things, Nerissa, but I am not thoughtless," he replied. "Do not think for a moment that all those years I was absent, I didn't think of you every day. I did. Every waking moment."

"Then why didn't you send them?" she asked hoarsely. "At least then I would have known you were aware of my existence."

"Because I felt that even the most expensive gift would be a cheap substitute for a good father," he said plainly.

At least he got that right, Nerissa thought bitterly to herself.

"And my mother," she pressed, remembering the reason for her visit. "What about my mother?"

"What about her?" Snape asked stiffly, against even his own better judgment. He regretted the words the moment he uttered them, but he couldn't help himself. Force of habit, he supposed. He was so used to cutting himself off from his feelings, from his memories, that he scarcely knew what to do when he was asked to face them.

Nerissa bristled and shook her head.

"I suppose that's the answer I'm after, then," she said indignantly and started for the door, leaving the years of birthday presents behind her.

"Nerissa," he started, once he realized she was serious. "Stop. Please."

She stopped and turned back toward him, her eyebrows raised.

Go on, she thought to herself. I dare you.

"Nerissa, I loved your mother," Snape began. "You cannot deny that. No, I didn't love her in the way she deserved. Perhaps I realized that too late. I didn't understand that there are different kinds of love."

"Different kinds?" Nerissa asked.

"Yes," Snape continued nervously. "I suppose most normal people are able to tell the difference, between friendship and true love, but given my limited exposure to a loving environment, you must understand, it was entirely new to me. No doubt your grandparents informed you about my childhood?"

Nerissa shook her head.

"Well," Snape said brusquely, "consider yourself lucky you grew up in such a caring situation. I won't bore you with the gory details, but suffice it to say, my father had a nasty temper and took his frustrations out on my mother or me, or whoever got in his way. I don't ever recall a kind, or even indifferent, word from that man toward anyone. My mother, who was scarcely more than seventeen when I was born, wasn't equipped to care for a small child and an abusive husband, so she found ways to escape, usually by drinking. She tried to care for me in her own way, but she was usually too wrapped up in her own problems to pay me much attention.

"I had no siblings, no other family, so you can understand that I was wholly unacquainted with that pesky little emotion called love. Until I came to Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore was the only person I'd met who hadn't made me feel in some way inferior."

"What about Lily Evans?" Nerissa rejoined. By the look on her father's face, she could tell he had been hoping she wouldn't bring up that subject.

"Right," he sighed loudly. "Lily Evans. She was kind to me, even if I didn't know how to react to that kindness. I confused her courtesy with love, because that's what I felt for her. Love.

"Well," he paused. "I thought I could replace my feelings for Lily with the feelings I had for Alexia. I thought they could be interchangeable, that I could just transfer what I felt for Lily onto Alexia."

Snape shook his head ruefully.

"Of course, it doesn't work that way," he noted, "but I didn't know that. Your mother made me give up my mission for the Dark Lord, even if she wasn't aware of that. I tried to put it all behind me--my feelings for Lily, the fact I'd been a Death Eater. That worked for about...a month. But then I realized I had to tell her who I really was. I owed her that."

Damn right you did, Nerissa thought.

* * * * * *

Alexia had been waiting for him to return. She sat in the easy chair in the front room, reading, listening for the sound of the doorknob turning. She had already calculated how long it would take Severus to fly from Hogwarts, where he had been meeting with Albus Dumbledore about a teaching position there and knew he should be coming through the door at any moment.

It had been eight months since their wedding, and they were living near Lincoln in a cottage behind Alexia's parents' house, their second residence since their marriage. They had already moved from their London flat when agents of the Dark Lord discovered their whereabouts. Alexia knew that if Severus took the teaching position--Potions Master at Hogwarts--it would mean changing location, but she didn't mind. She was accustomed to moving around--in her childhood, she counted eight different places she called home, but she surmised that they may have been more. But Severus still did not seem at home in this place, and she began to wonder if he would anywhere.

At the sound of the door opening, her book fell to the floor, and she stood to greet him. Severus gave a half smile at the sight of his wife. Alexia's diminutive stature made her seem much more pregnant than four months.

"Hello," he said softly, planting a small kiss on her cheek and brushing an unruly auburn curl out of her hazel eyes. His skin was still cold and his hair a mess from the trip.

"Well?" she said expectantly, smiling broadly. "What did Professor Dumbledore say?"

"The position is mine, if I want it," Severus said unenthusiastically. There seemed to be something else wearing on him.

"That's wonderful, Severus!" Alexia exclaimed. "What's the matter? Don't you want the job?"

Severus stared miserably at the ground. How could he even begin?

"I suppose I do," he muttered.

"Severus!" Alexia implored. "Is there something the matter? Tell me."

"I've...I've accepted the job," he began. "It will begin in August, about a month after..."
He touched her belly and she smiled.

"I'm so proud of you, Severus," Alexia exclaimed, kissing him on the cheek.

"You shouldn't be," he muttered, turning his head away from her. Alexia looked at him in shock and dismay.

"Why? Why shouldn't I be proud of my husband?"

"If you knew," Severus said cryptically. "If you knew who I was, you wouldn't be."

Alexia rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Oh, Severus, stop being so dramatic," she gently chided him. "This is a happy occasion! You've just won a prestigious teaching job, and we're to be parents in five months. How can you not be content?"

"No, Alexia, you have to listen to me," he said fervently, taking her by the arm and leading her to the sofa. "It's time you knew the truth."

"The truth?" she repeated skeptically. She still could not understand what her husband could have done that was so reprehensible. "All right, Severus, out with it then."

Severus sighed heavily and then began. He knew that things would never be the same after she heard what he had to say.

"Alexia, when I came to your family, it wasn't because I needed protection against Voldemort," he began.

Alexia's brows furrowed.

"It wasn't?"

"No. I came to your family for a different purpose. A darker purpose. I was sent to test my loyalty...to Voldemort."

Alexia stiffened and sat up straighter, inclining her head to indicate she wanted to know more.

"That isn't all," Severus continued. "I was sent here to kill you and your family. I was supposed to gain your trust and then kill you, one by one. But when I got here and met you, I couldn't do it. I couldn't."

"All that means is that you've changed, Severus" Alexia insisted, perhaps more for her reassurance than for his. "You're not like that. Maybe you were, once, but you aren't anymore!"

"Have I?" he snapped, undoing the buttons on his right sleeve. "Have I really? Look, Alexia! Look at this!"

He exposed his wrist. Alexia flinched and pulled away, so he grabbed her forearm forcefully, violently even, and drew her closer to him, forcing her to look at the Dark Mark. She let out a small cry--he had never touched her like that before.

"Do you see this?" he roared. "Do you know what this is? It means I was a Death Eater! I cannot ever remove this, Alexia, it will be on my skin until the day I die, reminding me of who I am!"

She tried to wrestle her arm free of his grasp, but he only held on tighter. She had never seen him this way. Her eyes implored him to release his grip, and he did, sending her tumbling to the floor. Her hands immediately went to her belly, and his eyes grew big with horror. If he had done anything to hurt the child...

Tears springing from her eyes, Alexia struggled to her feet and started from the room. But he couldn't let her leave--he hadn't explained himself enough.

"Lil--Alexia!" he protested.

Alexia paused by the doorway and slowly turned around.

"What did you just call me?" she asked, her voice cold and morose.

"I called you...I called you by your name!" Severus insisted guiltily.

"No, you didn't," Alexia retorted. "You started to call me something else. Lily, perhaps?"

Severus could not hide his unease. Alexia nodded to herself.

"I see," she murmured.

He wanted to say that it was Alexia, not Lily, who had changed him. Lily did not stop him from being a Death Eater. Alexia had. He wanted to tell her she was the reason he had abandoned his loyalty to the Dark Lord, had changed for the better. He wanted to say it. But he didn't.

* * * * * *

"Once she knew who I had been, there was a change in Alexia," Snape continued. "It was as if...something broke. I had lied to her, that's no secret, and even though I knew she still loved me, as hard as that is to believe, there was a distance there. There were two betrayals, and one of them would have been more than most people could bear, but I, stupidly, expected her to shoulder both.

"It was too much for one person," he said. "It wore on her, it dragged her down. And when she fell ill after you were born, I think she just...let go."

Nerissa sat silently for a moment, processing everything. Then she raised her hazel eyes to her father's.

"I want you to prove it," she said tenaciously. "The Dark Mark. Show me."

Snape stared at his daughter for a few moments, but she did not break his gaze.

"Very well," he said softly and began unbuttoning the cuff of his sleeve. It ran almost to his knuckles, and there were many buttons, as if her father's clothes want it to make it difficult for the marking beneath them to see the light of day.

And then she saw it. There, in sharp contrast with his impossibly pale skin, the black skull tattooed just beneath his wrist, evidence of his past, of the deeds he'd performed, at least in thought. She stared at it for a moment and then reached her hand out to touch it, but he drew his hand away and began button his sleeve.

"It's all in the past now, Nerissa," he said deliberately. "This," he said, touching his wrist, "this is the past. And I'm much more interested in the present and the future. I've been trying to redeem myself, for being a terrible father."

"You're not a terrible father," Nerissa sighed. "You just...need a little work at it. Thank you for the presents. Finally."

She reached up and put her arms around her father. She could tell by how awkwardly he stood there and how lightly he placed his arms around her that he hadn't been hugged in a very long time.

There was an awkward pause as both of them scrambled to think what to do next.

"Well," Snape said, giving her a wry look, "as your father, I believe it's within my bounds to tell you to go to bed. Now."

Nerissa laughed, this time in earnest.

"All right. Good night, Dad."

Smiling, Nerissa let herself out of her father's quarters, feeling that she could sleep soundly for the first time in weeks. But then, a figure sprang from the shadows, clasping an arm over her chest and pulling her down the corridor. A hand clamped down on her mouth before she could raise her voice to scream.

Nymphus Maris: loosely translated Latin for "Nymph of the Sea," one of the meanings of the name "Nerissa."