Save Yourself

Save Yourself, Chapter Twenty-Two

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Moonlight shone through the dark halls, lighting my way as I walked down the damp corridor during the hours before dawn nearly two months after the last conversation Draco and I had had. My midsection, once only slightly swollen, was now approaching bulging and unsightly. After the initial period of cravings and exhaustion, I finally gained the courage to inform Madame Pomfrey of my condition—something in which seemed to give her both an extraordinary amount of joy and excitement as well as an ulcer. I swore her to secrecy, however, allowing her to inform only a professor, and even then only when absolutely necessary—else I would do so on my own.

That particular night, I was having a difficult time sleeping, and whether it be from hormones or simple insomnia, nothing I did helped. I knew in a situation such as this, Draco would gladly stay up with me to make sure I wasn’t lonely, but for the time being, that wasn’t an option. I refused to speak to him, along with most of my other housemates. Millicent had taken Blaise’s side, as she always did, leaving me alone in the dormitory. As far as I knew, no one knew Draco and I were married, and as far as I cared, no one but those who already knew would ever find out.

In the dark corridor in the middle of the night, I stopped by one of the large arched windows and stood gazing out at the millions of twinkling stars, the light they produced dimly reflecting off of the layer of freshly fallen snow covering the rolling hills of the school’s grounds. It wasn’t until I felt a hand touch my should gently that I realized I wasn’t alone, and as I spun around to face the person who had dared interrupted my solitude, I took a step back, nearly tripping on the waist-high window ledge.

“Careful,” a strong voice spoke quietly, reaching out to steady my shaking frame. I looked up to see Professor Snape standing a mere foot in front of me, his usually dull black eyes shining with concern.

“Professor, I’m—” I stopped, not quite ready to deal out the excuse I had made about going to see Madame Pomfrey about getting something to help me sleep—not altogether a complete and total lie.

“I know,” he said quietly, guiding me away from the window and back down the halls towards the Slytherin dungeons. Instead of turning down the corridor leading down towards the Slytherin Common Room, Snape lead me down toward his office, silent as he unlocked the door and gestured for me to take a seat in one of the surprisingly comfortable chairs. He took a seat in the chair next to me instead of the one set behind his desk, conjuring up two steaming mugs of what I recognized instantly to be hot chocolate.

“I realize, as your teacher, that it’s not my place to intervene with students’ relationships, unless harmful of course, but as a friend of your mother’s, I know I have to at least talk to you, for her sake if nothing else.”

“Sir?” I asked, slightly confused at his choice of topic.

“He’s sorry,” Snape continued, looking me directly in the eye. “And worst of all, he’s sorry for a crime he didn’t commit.”

“Sir?” I repeated, creasing my brow in confusion. Granted it was nearly five in the morning, but I know I should have latched on to his meaning sooner than I was.

“Draco,” he clarified for me, watching as my expression changed immediately from one of confusion to one of disgust. “You two were married surprisingly young—too young, if you ask me—and I’m well aware of what has happened between you in the past few months.”

“How do you know…?” I asked, visions of Lucius Malfoy telling the whole wizarding population his son and I were married dancing in my head.

“I know you two are married because I attended your wedding,” he informed me matter-of-factly. I blinked in surprise, griping the armrests of the chair tightly. “And I know of your fight because I was in the Common Room at the time.”

I shook my head, once again thoroughly confused. “But I didn’t see you?”

“I should hope not,” Professor Snape lifted his steaming mug of hot chocolate to his lips and sipped the hot liquid carefully. “But that’s not what I brought you here to talk about. What I want to tell you is something Draco refuses to acknowledge, even though I’m sure somewhere in his subconscious he’s aware of it.”

“Which is?” I prompted, too nervous to take a sip of my own hot chocolate. My mind was still foggy from the lack of sleep and even though Professor Snape’s words were registering clearly in my mind, I didn’t have the emotional capabilities at the early hour to react as one normally would.

“Ms. Zambini was never pregnant with Draco’s child,” Professor Snape said softly, looking down at his pale hands. “Instead, the child was Mr. Finnigan’s, of the Gryffindor sixth years.”

My mind flashed back to the night I had caught Seamus and Blaise in bed together, my mind instantly connecting the pieces of the puzzle; Draco had to have slept with Blaise only a few weeks before hand, somehow making him realize exactly what love is and therefore causing his complete turnabout on the night of the Yule Ball.

“That still doesn’t excuse his actions,” I shook my head, wrapping my arms around my swelling stomach the best I could. In my nightgown, the bulge was obvious; as I was wearing a long black dressing gown over it, however, I was hopefully concealing the length of my pregnancy to Professor Snape.

Snape nodded with agreement, reaching back behind him to pick up a heavy blanket, handing it to me with a blank expression on his face. I took the blanket gratefully, wrapping it around my shoulders to keep in the warmth the dungeons were quickly sucking from my body.

“He didn’t correctly cast the spell either, because he simply didn't want to,” Professor Snape continued, his face curiously blank and far-off. “Blaise later came to me, begging me for a potion, telling me the child was in fact Draco’s—a lie I recognized immediately. She only used the Malfoy name because of the convenience and the knowledge she would be killed had she carried the baby to full term. It was simply a matter of the easiest way out for her,” Snape took another sip of his hot chocolate as if he were simply reciting the day’s lesson plans, or perhaps what he had eaten for dinner.

“Does he know?” I asked quietly, the tired numbness still present within my mind.

“I told him this evening,” Snape answered, setting his mug down. “He wanted to tell you himself, but I thought it best if I did.”

I nodded slowly, absorbing all of the information he had given me. “Why did you bother?” I finally asked. “You could have just as easily let the two of us fall to pieces. Why did you bother telling us?”

“Because you’re the only thing that can keep him from bowing down to Lord Voldemort,” Snape informed me in a monotonous tone. I flinched as he said the Dark Lord’s full name, but he disregarded my momentary discomfort and continued. “Some believe becoming a Death Eater is a glamorous thing, something will earn them fame, power, riches, and respect—but I know none of that is true.” He shook his head once more, the mask of indifference he had worn only moments early slipping off once again. “I’m one of Voldemort’s most trusted, most loyal, most powerful servants, and look where I am,” he sneered, more towards himself than anything else. “I don’t want young Mr. Malfoy to end up like me—and like your father.”

The news Snape was a Death Eater hadn’t surprised me in the least; my father had often spoken of him as a close contact, all of which I grew to learn were more than close contacts, but those of Voldemort’s servants who had somehow escaped Azkaban when the Dark Lord had been defeated for the first time. It was the connection to my father Snape had made that frightened me the most. His comparison to the creature my father had become and Draco was completely unbearable to me and set an impression upon my mind unlike any other I had ever experienced before.

“Did you come looking for me tonight?” I asked after a moment or two of silence.

“Yes and no,” Snape answered slowly, his eyes focused now some five feet behind me. “Mr. Malfoy came to me after he found you out of bed about two or three hours ago, and he asked me to find you to make sure you were all right. He was rather insistent on it, and to be honest, I really don’t blame him.”

I nodded, digesting the fact Draco had appeared in the girl’s dormitory long after lights-out, as well as the fact he had been genuinely worried about me.

It was less than a quarter of an hour later when Professor Snape finally dismissed me, getting up to open the door back out into the hallway for me.

“Pansy,” he said, his usual harsh voice strangely void of all annoyance. “When my wife was pregnant, warm milk or heated blankets usually helped her sleep, especially when she was as far along as you are.” His mask slipped once again, showing the faintest hint of extreme emotions which informed me his wife and child were no longer among the living. “Next time you have a hard time going to sleep, try it.”

“I will,” I gave him a small smile, wrapping my dressing gown around me more tightly. “Thank you.”

“Good night, Ms. Parkinson,” he nodded formally and retreated back into his office, carefully closing the door once again, leaving me out alone in the hallway to make my way back to the Common Room alone. Before I could take a step down the corridor, however, I heard a single muffled sob come from behind the heavy wooden door now separating the professor and me.

Everything was silent after that one slip.

Five minutes later, I climbed carefully into the single bed Draco lay in, molding my position to fit the one he had fallen asleep in, as I carefully lay my head next to his, almost immediately falling into my blackened dream world.