Waiting

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This was a drabble written in answer to the brief ‘At the window’ challenge on lordandladysnape Yahoo group groups.yahoo.com/group/lordand… .




Waiting
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At the end of the second floor corridor in the West tower, there is a window that overlooks the front lawns of Hogwarts school. Through this window the October sun shone brightly, belying the chill in the air. Incongruous to the merry play of light beams through the glass, was a solitary figure, dark and brooding. The light appeared to shy away from the man, appearing to know better than to disturb him. He leaned, one hip pressed against the cold stone, with his arms crossed, glaring across the expanse to the front gates, willing her to return to him.

He had watched her grow from a child. Watched her best her peers again and again. She was his life, his heart, his reason when reason failed him. Why had he let her go? It was that Potter. The boy must have coerced her into going and Weasley wasn’t any better. The dark man shifted uncomfortably, nearly forty-five minutes of leaning on a wall could do that to a man his of his years. He sighed deeply, watching the glint of sun reflecting off of the lake. He noted with a snort, the giant squid appeared to be waving to him.

“Not returned yet?” the head of Gryffindor house chirped next to him. He gave her a negative grunt, his eyes never leaving their vigil. “What time is she due to return?”

“Three.”

“Well, you know she won’t return a minute early. Stop fretting.”

“I, madam, do not ‘fret’.”

“You could have fooled me,” she said with a laugh that in her youth might have been thought a giggle, but now was more of a warm chuckle. His face turned to her with it’s customary sneer to see her looking out of the window.

“You see . . . there they are.”

The dark man turned back to see a black haired youth, curly haired girl and a red head bounding across the lawns on their way to the castle. Without further comment, the heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor walked side by side down the stairs to the entry hall. They reached their position just as the trio burst through the front doors, the dark haired girl in the lead. She walked up to the professors, brushing her curls out of her eyes.

“Are we late?”

The dark man pulled out his pocket watch looked at it. They were five minutes late, but the woman next to him spoke first.

“Of course not, dear. Did you have a good time?”

The raven haired girl smiled and gave each of her a friends a relieved glance. “Hogsmeade was brilliant.”

“What is wrong with Mr. Potter?” the dark man asked, watching the boy who had a somewhat greenish cast to his skin clutch his stomach unobtrusively.

“James ate too many sweets,” the red head piped up merrily. The boy turned soulful green eyes to him.

“I’m alright, Uncle Severus. Rhonda’s just mad because I interrupted her, when she was drooling over Francis Longbottom.”

“So . . . Morgan was being chatted up by Lucas Malfoy,” the red head said quickly. The dark haired girl’s mouth dropped open and an indignant look overcame her face.

“Was not! You take that back Rhonda Weasley!”

“Morgan Snape,” the Charm Professor said with maternal patience. “That will be quite enough of that from all of you. Thank your father for letting you go on the Hogsmeade visit, Morgan.”

The girl turned a bright smile to her father and hugged him fiercely. Severus clasped his daughter in his arms, happy to have her back where she belonged . . . and in one piece.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered in his ear. He could not help the smile that played at his lips no matter how hard he tried not to give in to it.

“Tea time now,” the woman announced, looking at the other children. “Come down to the dungeons with your uncle and I.”

The three students began walking the familiar path to the Snape family quarters. The children chatted amongst themselves as the adults followed a few paces behind. The dark man did not like the idea of a boy finding his little girl attractive, but at least it wasn’t the Potter boy.

“Severus, look,” Hermione whispered, nudging him in the side. His attention was drawn to Morgan’s hand clasped tightly in James’.

“Bloody hell,” Severus grumbled, “That is all I need . . . a Potter in the family!”


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Written around Father’s Day.



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