Snape's Sister Serafina

SNAPE'S SISTER SERAFINA


Severus Snape was shaking with rage as he left the Teacher's Lounge.



He'd been sitting there for the best part of an hour, slowly working his way through a batch of essays with a large red quill. Then, just as he was giving Colin Creevey a D for his efforts (an incompetent mess of scribbles titled "How I would poison Harry Potter's enemies"), he overheard The Conversation.

The Conversation. He'd heard it before, and he would, no doubt, hear it again. It always featured shocked silences and suppressed chortles, and phrases such as "granny dress", "moth-eaten vulture", and "utterly ridiculous". How could his fellow teachers be so disrespectful, so tactless?

He was well aware that the wingback chair he sat in concealed him completely from the lounge's other denizens, but that was really no excuse. No excuse for dwelling on his shame, whether to his face, or behind his back...

He supposed this time was not all that bad. At least neither McGonagall, the teller, or Sinistra, the listener, were laughing or making disparaging comments about his anatomy. (It wasn't his fault he didn't have the hips to fill a dress, now was it?) As a result, Snape was able to listen to this version of The Conversation with his temper at a low simmer. And, to be honest, he quite liked having his temper at a low simmer. It made him feel more alive.

Then he came in.

That blasted werewolf. Well, not blasted as such - oh, how Snape would love to really blast him with a good blasting spell - but certainly despicable. The cause of it all; the man who had dared to humiliate him in such a very public fashion.

Hearing his three colleagues exchange good-natured greetings, Snape gnashed his teeth in rage. They were actually welcoming the werewolf! And offering him tea! That repulsive brown-noser had managed to befriend some of the other teachers in less than a week! It had taken Snape years - years! - to achieve the same level of familiarity!

Truly, it was difficult to be a man of integrity and pride, Snape reflected. He had but one consolation. The feeble-minded might enjoy the werewolf's self-effacing politeness, and the soft-hearted might admire his "struggle" with his "curse", but at least he, Snape, could see right through him. He could see Lupin for the manipulative fraud that he was, and so, hopefully, protect the school from his evil plotting.

Pushing these dark thoughts down into his subconscious for future consideration, Snape decided to listen in on the werewolf's conversation. He knew he would find it profoundly irritating, but he had to do his duty as protector of Hogwarts.

"Well, Remus," Sinistra drawled. "We were just discussing your fascinating Boggart lesson."

"Surely that's old news by now?" Lupin replied dismissively, clinking a spoon against his teacup.

Snape shuddered with fury at the sly smile in the werewolf's voice. He knew the others would rise to the bait.

"I don't think that lesson will ever be forgotten," McGonagall sighed, right on cue. "At least not by Severus: he is still most put out."

At this point, Snape could restrain himself no longer.

"And why shouldn't I be 'put out', as you most quaintly put it?" he snarled, rising from his chair and turning to face his tormentors.

They were surprised to see him, of course, but all three covered it up in the best British fashion, hardly raising an eyebrow.

"Why shouldn't I be put out," Snape continued, "when this... this monster," here he paused to point an accusing finger at Lupin, "is actually applauded for undermining my authority with the students by making me look ridiculous?"

Lupin blinked. "You can't blame me for assuming, Severus," he replied, "that a mere Riddikulus spell would not be enough to do your, er, authority, any harm. Not when some students fear you more than any ghoul or banshee."

"Or any werewolf?" Snape snarled.

"Now, that's quite enough, Severus!" McGonagall snapped.

Severus was just about to snap back at this woman, with her most unflattering hairstyle, when the werewolf's quiet voice assaulted his ears again.

"Come, now, Severus," Lupin said, spreading his arms disarmingly. "Surely we can put this behind us? We have to work together, after all... Is there anything I could do to make it easier for you?"

Snape crossed his arms across his chest, looking the werewolf up and down. "You know, I'd just love to humiliate you in front of the school," he said darkly. "But it wouldn't work, as you do such a very good job of that yourself. You and your clothes... I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you'd choose to have me dressed up in old rags!" he shouted suddenly, his anger flaring up again, "And a RED handbag with a GREEN dress? What were you thinking?"

Lupin coughed. "Well, it was what Neville's Grandma normally wears," he explained mildly, "And, to be honest, I never gave the colour scheme much thought... You can't expect me to have as much good taste and, ER, chic as your charming sister."

His charming sister? Why was Lupin bringing Serafina into this? Just how much did he know? What was he implying? Snape's anger reached boiling point.

"YOU LEAVE MY SISTER OUT OF THIS!" he yelled, leaning over Lupin threateningly. Then, before the female teachers could even tut-tut, he was storming out of the room and slamming the door with all his strength.

The shock caused a picture to fall off the wall: pausing outside, he heard the clatter. This gave him some satisfaction. He hoped it was that portrait of the woman in the unflattering puce bodice.

Breathing deeply, Snape set off for his own room, in the Slytherin quarters. As he strode along, paralyzing passing students with his furious glances, his mind was in turmoil.

What had the werewolf meant? Could he possibly know Serafina's secret? Lupin had met her, of course... Severus knew all about that...



It had happened a few years previously. Serafina had been standing before a store window: not window-shopping, but examining her reflection. This wasn't vanity, not exactly, more the sort of detailed scrutiny an artist imposes on her masterpiece.

Serafina had felt particularly pleased with her work on that fine summer day. She was wearing a new dress the colour of lilacs, which did wonders for her (occasionally sallow) complexion. She had selected a lilac-based fragrance to match, and the little pink umbrella she carried set off her crisp dark curls to perfection. She was aware that the cinched waist was a little bit passe, but then she was an old-fashioned girl, and the hourglass effect was well worth it.

Men had been noticing her all morning. Silly creatures. Why, there was one now, reflected in the window beside her, who appeared to be inspecting her most closely.

Hmmm... There was something slightly familiar about that figure. Strange, considering the sheltered life Serafina had led... She decided to find out more, pulling her umbrella up to frame her face as she turned towards the stranger.

Thin, light brown hair... Bad, bad clothes... Good posture, though, and a pleasant smile. Where had she seen him before? Was he a friend of her brother's?

"I'm terribly sorry to disturb you," the man said courteously, "It's just that you really remind me of... are you related to Severus Snape?"

That voice! She knew the man! She'd never met him, not properly, but she had seen him when secretly visiting Severus at school. He was... the werewolf!

Serafina tried to cover up her confusion with a ladylike smile, but it was all a bit too much. Her tight corset proved more than a match for her over-excited lungs, and she felt herself swaying.

Fainting, falling, the last thing she saw was the stranger rushing up to catch her...



The first thing she noticed when she came to was that someone was fumbling with her tight bodice.

She couldn't let anyone touch her... Shrieking, she shied away from those nasty hands, opening her eyes and preparing to defend her virtue...

"It's all fine, my dear, just trying to loosen your collar," a pleasant-looking middle-aged witch said to her. Who was she? What was this place?

Serafina looked around. She was seated on a chair inside the Three Broomsticks. The young man was sitting across from her, looking troubled.

"You fainted," he explained, noticing her gaze. "I carried you in, and Mrs. Mullins here has been helping."

"That's right, dear," Mrs. Mullins confirmed. "Here, drink some brandy: it will set you right up."

"But I never..." Serafina started, before deciding to accept the brandy. She needed time to think. This was the werewolf, she was sure of it. She should really get up and leave the moment she found her strength. Severus would be most angry...

And yet... It was not often that Serafina found herself playing a part in such a feminine adventure. Swooning, and being carried off for rescue: the carrying alone was pretty impressive, as, though thin, she was a big, heavy girl. Taller than the young man even in her shoeless silk-stockinged feet.

She decided that she should stay a while. Mere politeness demanded it.

"Thank you..." she whispered, her voice made annoyingly low by the brandy. She cleared her throat. "Thank you both," she continued in her normal, sweet tones, rewarding both rescuers with a grateful glance.

"No need to mention it," the wolfman answered with a weak smile. He was looking very pale, Serafina noticed, and rather worried. "I am sorry if I frightened you - I certainly didn't mean to."

This statement alarmed Mrs. Mullins. "Would you like me to fetch the bouncer, my dear?" she asked Serafina, casting a suspicious eye over the man's disreputable clothes.

"No, that's quite alright," Serafina replied. "I do know this gentleman. Thank you so much for your concern, though," she continued, glancing over at the man, who was looking most uncomfortable.

"I see," the woman beamed. "I see that I am not wanted, ha ha. You two young people need to have a nice chat, I think. I'll be getting back to my shop, then. Hope you feel better, dear."

And, with a final exchange of pleasantries all round, she was gone.

The wolfman turned back to Serafina. "I must apologize once more. At least in part for forgetting to introduce myself: I'm Remus Lupin."

"I'm Serafina Snape," Serafina replied. "And I know who you are: my brother told me all about you. Yes, all," she finished, seeing the question in his eyes.

"And yet you have permitted me to stay, in spite of his tales?" Lupin asked. His tone was light; he might have been making a joke. But Serafina, who did know all about it, knew he wasn't.

"I was naturally interested," she said.

The man looked at her solemnly. At last he spoke. "I, too, am naturally interested in meeting Severus' sister. We - I - have heard quite a bit about you, as well. I know that you went to school abroad, and that Severus missed you very much. He used to buy you all those presents on Hogsmeade weekends."

Ah, yes. The lipsticks, the silk stockings: such a fine brother, Severus, even if it had taken him quite a while to get the colours right.

"Do you think I look a lot like him, then?" Serafina asked curiously, running a hand over her smooth cheek.

"Yes. It's quite obvious that you're related," the man answered seriously. "And yet you seem very different..."

"Let me guess: I'm more attractive?" Serafina asked, fluttering her long eyelashes.

"Well, naturally," the man grinned shyly. "But also... much, well, kinder."

Serafina simpered at the compliment. Then, realization struck her.

She was flirting with a werewolf. Her brother's enemy!

"Is something wrong?" the man asked, noticing her confusion.

"No... Well, yes... I just realized that I must meet my brother," Serafina got to her unsteady feet. "No, don't get up... He wouldn't want to see you," she shook her head in distress. "But I must go. So glad to meet you," she finished, holding one (oddly large) gloved hand out towards him.

Lupin kissed the hand wordlessly and sank back into his seat. She could feel his eyes on her as she left the bar.



The vivid memories flashed across Snape's mind as he stepped, at last, into his bedroom. They did less than nothing to dispel his rage. He knew well that there was only one thing that would make him feel better.

Kneeling down beside his bed, he pulled out a fancy chest labeled"Most Extremely Toxic Poisons." Waving his wand, he unlocked the chest and pushed back the heavy lid. An exotic scent filled the room.

Very carefully, Snape started going through the chest's contents, still lost in thought.

That werewolf! What could he possibly know? Serafina had acted like a perfect lady, as always: she couldn't have aroused his suspicions. And yet Lupin had acted very oddly around her. He was normally so much more reserved... Could it be that he had known all, even back then?

There was only one possible explanation. Potter must have told him about that meeting by the lake.



It had happened at the end of their fourth year, late on a warm May evening. Severus was sitting at the edge of the lake, resting his hands, when he developed a strong feeling that he was being watched.

He turned around. And saw Potter, staring at him in disbelief.

"Severus!" Potter had gasped. "I was just, ER, looking for Remus. You haven't seen him, have you? Oh, of course you haven't... you seem, ER, busy..."

Snape looked at Potter, then down at the washing-board half-submerged in the water, and back at Potter again.

Was that pity he could see in Potter's eyes? He couldn't stand it. He turned away, shielding the dainty pile at his feet from Potter's gaze.

"No. I haven't," he replied curtly.

He heard Potter leave, walking at the slow pace of the very, very freaked out. Once the sound had died away, he picked up the silk chemise he'd been washing and got back to work. It was the only way to get over Potter...

Snape loved washing Serafina's things with his own hands. Such wonderful fabrics, such pretty colours. It was deeply, deeply unfair that he couldn't wear such things as a man. At least not without provoking laughter.

He could still remember the day when some Gryffindor plot had caused all his own drab clothing to turn into frothy lace. He could remember the laughter, yes, but also the gentle way in which his new outfit had caressed his skin.



He had secretly bought a silk slip a month later.

He had tried it on during a popular Quidditch match, in the privacy of his empty bedroom.

Severus had been smooth-skinned back then, and his hair, freshly washed in honour of the occasion, had curled up slightly around his ears. He had been happy, too, enjoying the feel of his new purchase, and his cheeks were flushed with mischief.

He had turned towards the mirror, and seen Serafina. That infinitely enchanting, curly-haired creature with her pink cheeks and her aristocratic nose.

His twin sister.

Since that afternoon, he had loved her far more than himself.



Smiling vaguely at these pleasant memories, Professor Snape fastened the laces. That would do. It was pretty hard for a person to tighten their own corset, but an intelligent man like himself could always find ways.

Few people realized that the ornamental circles attached to his bedposts were actually miniature pulleys.

After running his hands over his new, slender waist, and admiring the bustle which added such alluring curves, Snape went back to the Poison chest and pulled out a mass of red satin. He slipped it on, smoothing out the folds, and cast a simple ironing charm on the skirt.

Then, it was time for the wig: he thought the topknot would work very well.

Moving very, very close to his mirror, Snape worked his well-practiced magic. A lip-liner made narrow lips fuller; blusher minimized a prominent nose; and false eyelashes gave dark eyes a hint of mystery. Serafina's gradual arrival cast its own spell. As Severus watched his dear sister appear, his jawline softened and his mouth relaxed.

A pair of dangling earrings would help accentuate a long, graceful neck. The earrings jingled, causing a twinkle to appear in Snape's eye.

He paused then, and took a long look at his creation. A proud, Spanish-looking woman in a dramatic red dress caught his gaze and attempted a few steps of flamenco. Oh, she was so beautiful! How could Severus ever hope to even approach her radiance? He'd long given up on it, to the point of letting his hair go unwashed.

How beautiful she was, and how gentle. How well she understood her brother. And what a pity that no-one would ever understand her.

It was enough to drive one to tears.

But then, Severus could never bring himself to cry.

Serafina could. She cried for him.

Her mascara was, after all, waterproof.



While Serafina sobbed daintily into a lace handkerchief, Remus Lupin felt memories of her flood his mind.

He sat back in the wingback chair he'd taken over from Snape, and put away the quiz he'd been grading. What a strange, intriguing creature she'd been. He hadn't thought about her in years - but the memory must have lingered somewhere on the edge of his consciousness, for why else would he have made that suggestion to Neville?

Well, she wasn't the sort of person one could forget entirely. She was too striking for that...

And then, Snape's rage. How had he erupted at the merest mention of his sister! What was the mystery that surrounded her, and her unconventional education?

Could it have somehow related to Severus' irrational hatred of werewolves?

She herself had seemed intrigued - not appalled - by Lupin's secret.

Could it be that she, herself, was...?

Wishful thinking, he decided.

Still, he couldn't help wanting to get to know Serafina a little better...