A Cloud Before the Moon

Chapter 36 - The Homecoming

It was not easy to balance so many things at once. As he got off the train, two different parcels went flying in different directions - fortunately neither of them breakable. (He actually felt a twinge of belated sympathy for the annoying Muggle woman whose suitcase had fallen in her face.) He conjured a large heavy net, piled his purchases therein, twisted the top neatly, and shrank the large unwieldy lump into a small bundle, easily carried in one hand.

Arriving at the house, he re-expanded his packages and stowed them in his chamber. Spending money lavishly seemed to have had a marvelous effect on his spirits, once he had determined not to worry about the effect it had on his net financial worth. He pulled out the dress-box; it might be useful in ensuring that the evening would be equally enjoyable. He carried it down the hall to Letha's room, and knocked smartly on the door.

"Yes?" responded a wary voice.

"May I come in?"

"If you wish," was the glum response.

He unlocked the door and swept into the room. Letha sat gloomily in a hideous pink armchair, her arms wrapped across her chest, with an expression of great irritation. Perhaps she was upset that he'd left her alone for two whole days. He held out the box appeasingly. "I've brought you something."

"Oh, how kind of you," she said dully. "You can leave it on the table, next to the damned biscuit tin."

Things were not going as expected. Not at all. "What is the matter?" He looked at the biscuit tin and asked guardedly, "Where did that come from?"

"I had a visitor."

"A visitor?" He wrinkled his forehead in puzzlement, and then his face went chalk-white. "My mother?"

"No," she said irritably, "the bloody Queen of England popped in for tea."

"And you let her in?" He scowled at her. "For some damned biscuits?"

She glowered back at him. "Oh, for heaven's sake! I didn't ask for them, I didn't want them, and I don't want anything from her or you or anyone! Just bring me my own clothing so I don't have to wear your sister's old things. Better yet - let me go home and leave me alone."

"I can't let you go home. Not right now."

"Just why not? It's about time you told me why the hell you're keeping me prisoner here."

"I explained that...."

And, speaking of telling me things, why didn't you tell me about the delightful and charming matriarch of your family? You certainly told her plenty about me, for some reason." She grimaced in disgust.

"I did no such thing!"

She shook her head. "Don't lie to me, Snape! How else is it that she knows more about me than I do myself? Perhaps you can explain that? But, oh, she did have such lovely things to say about me - and about you - and about my appropriation of the enchanting Narcissa's clothing and jewelry."

"What jewelry? I can't imagine my dear cousin left behind a single item of value."

"Well, Eris - oh, yes, we're on first-name basis, you know - was very put out about that necklace."

"What necklace? Your necklace?" He looked at her closely. "Where is it?"

"My necklace? That's not the way I see it. And certainly not the way your mother sees it."

"Where is it?" He stared at her searchingly.

"You did give it to me, didn't you?"

"Yes, of course."

"But why? You had no right to do that! It belongs to your cousin, doesn't it? How could you?"

"What are you talking about? Did you give it to that woman?"

"It was her grandmother's, and she gave it to her niece, did she not? I have no right to it - I didn't ask for it; and I don't want what belongs to someone else." She looked at him miserably. "It was rather humiliating, actually."

Snape looked murderous. Between clenched teeth, he again asked, "You gave her the necklace, didn't you?" He pounded his fist on the table. "How - how could you be so gullible?"

"WHAT?" She stared at him, aghast.

He continued in a strained voice, scarcely above a whisper. "That necklace never belonged to my mother. Her grandmother gave it to me - and I gave it to you - a long time ago. It is yours, not hers."

She sat down heavily, digesting this bit of information. "Why did she have to take it from me, then? Why did she have to have it?"

Snape did not answer her. His face was bright red, and his lips were contorted with fury. He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him, and headed for his mother's chamber. Halting mid-step, he spun around and strode swiftly down the stairs to the kitchen, where he found the old house-elf. She cowered in the corner at the sight of him, got down on her knees and began sobbing.

"Please, Master Severus! Fippy be sorry!" She began banging her head loudly on the floor.

"Oh, do stop that!" he snapped at her. "What ever is the matter with you?"

"Madame Snape asked Fippy so many questions about Miss Letha. I is sorry - I has to tell her, doesn't I? I is just a poor, foolish, wretched house-elf. I must to do as I is told...." The elderly elf was flailing her arms in hysterical helplessness.

"Stop," he repeated, this time in a soft but firm voice that she did not dare disobey. The elf settled down and stood waiting apprehensively for her punishment.

Snape knelt down and faced her, eye to eye. "Just tell me what happened."

Fippy had told his mother everything she knew. Although house-elves are generally not of the highest intelligence, they do have excellent memories. Fippy remembered in great detail the night, many years earlier, when he had come home from Ephemera Faraday's house. She knew Severus had given the necklace to his friend, and she recalled how happy he had looked, until he'd seen Master Malfoy.

Fippy remembered the girl's visit to the Snape house, how when he had spotted Letha in the parlor with his father, young Master Severus had ordered her to leave, hurling insults at her. "I doesn't know why you does that, Sir, but I supposes you has a reason." Snape turned his face away from the house-elf as her recital dredged up memories of that day. Of course Letha had to believe he despised her. What on earth was the matter with that girl that she should have cared for him despite that, despite everything?

"Thank you Fippy", he said wearily. "You have been very helpful." He stood up.

She peered at him anxiously. "Master Severus will not send Fippy away, will he?"

"No, he will not. Go back to work."

As Fippy scampered off cheerfully, Snape headed back upstairs, his agitation increasing with every step. How dare she! A string of agonizing and excruciating curses came to mind. He was going to kill her. He was going to wring her neck like a chicken. He was going to....no, he was just going to get the necklace back,for now.

Snape slammed his hand against the door of his mother's room and marched in unceremoniously.

"What do you think you're doing, barging in like this? If you wish to speak to me, you knock politely."

He stared at her menacingly. Softly, very softly he said, "I believe you have something that does not belong to you."

She put her index finger up to the tiny gold ball around her neck and flicked it slightly. "You are mistaken. It is mine. The harlot gave it back to me, as well she should have."

Her son screwed up his face. "Gave it BACK to you?" His voice had risen significantly in volume, despite his attempts to control it. Mother and son both wore expressions of intense dislike that accentuated the similarity in their features. "It was never yours in the first place!"

"It should have been. It was my grandmother's."

"Yes it was. But she gave it to me."

"As you wish." She smiled at him triumphantly. "But at any rate, it's mine now."

Severus shook his head. "No it is not. You will return it to me, and I will see that it goes back to its rightful owner."

"Your trollop."

"Do not speak of things you do not understand."

She emitted a high-pitched and artificial laugh. "I understand perfectly. I suppose you've locked her away here, and given her access to all your cousin's things, out of the kindness of your heart. As if you had one - when you treat your own mother so badly." Maliciously, she added, "I imagine that the only way you can keep a woman is by locking her up."

"I really don't care what you think, Madame." His voice dropped to a threatening hiss. "Give me back the necklace."

"I hardly think so," she answered, almost jocularly. "Just be a good lad and go away. Shut the door behind you." She waved him off.

Instead, he approached her, and spoke into her ear conspiratorially. "I have an offer to make you, a fair exchange."

She smirked at him dubiously, superiorly. He smirked back. "I have an invitation to Lucius and Narcissa's party in honor of their little boy. You, I'm afraid, do not. But I know you'd love to see the child." What Severus loved, was the effect his words were having on the color of her skin, which was turning exceptionally sallow underneath her makeup.

"I am sure it was an oversight. Perhaps the owl got lost...." she sputtered, her arrogant air all but dissolved.

"I suppose that is possible. Or perhaps, the oversight was intentional?" He allowed the words to sink in like barbs. Flatly, he made his offer. "Give me back the necklace, and you will come to the Malfoys' party, as my guest."

The very suggestion was a humiliation she could not tolerate. "Nonsense! I can go without you. After all...."

"Do you really think so?" He smiled at her, a cruel and thin-lipped smile. "I daresay no one attends the Malfoys' soirees without an invitation. Surely you do not wish to find yourself tossed off the grounds by a surly troll security guard? Without an invitation, to a troll you are just another party crasher. Do you wish to risk it? Besides, let us not forget you are the 'grieving widow' of Balthazar Snape. As such, you are persona non grata. No matter how you actually felt about the dear departed."

She regarded him with silent fury. "Alternatively," he added, "you have the opportunity to see Narcissa, to hold her precious little boy, and to rejoin the social circle I know you must desperately miss."

The expression on Madame Snape's face indicated that she was sorely tempted, but she fingered the gold chain possessively. From what, he wondered, did she think it would protect her? Finally, she responded. "I do not think so."

He walked over and stood behind her, placing his hands on the back of her chair. "Here is something else to consider, then" he said silkily. "Look at yourself. Without any great stretch of the imagination, you could pass for a woman of 35."

"That is true," she said, admiring herself in the mirror. Then her eyes narrowed at him. "But surely you did not force your way into my room to flatter me?"

His voice became less agreeable. "Flattery is not my intention, my dear mother. I am simply making a point. You can come with me and enjoy the party, or you can upset me, in which case, you will find yourself looking in the mirror and seeing this." He waved his wand and the image that appeared in front of her was that of a wrinkled old hag, with liver spots, grey-hued skin and deep unattractive furrows criss-crossing her visage.

She sniffed. "You can play games with my reflection, but you can't actually do that to me!"

He pulled out a small purple vial and wriggled it between his thumb and forefinger. "Oh, but I can."

"You wouldn't dare!" she hissed, eyeing the vial suspiciously. "That is Dark Magic - you'd be back in Azkaban in a flash." She curled her lip contemptuously. "From what I have heard, one stay in that place does not induce any desire for a return visit."

He turned her chair around, so that he could bring his face uncomfortably close to hers. . "So, apparently you were aware that I was in that dreadful place. Your concern for my well-being is touching, dear mother. But it would be worth going back to Azkaban, for the gratifying knowledge that I had ruined your life. Do you dare take that risk?"

Her tone changed drastically. "Oh Severus" she addressed him in a treacly voice, "I know we don't always get along as well as we ought, but you know - you must know - that I worried about you constantly while you were there. I just couldn't bear to see my only son - a prisoner.... I do care about you, you know." She flashed a grotesque smile, which, he supposed, was intended to convey motherly concern, and actually put out her fingers to his face.

He grabbed her wrist roughly and tossed it aside. He had to will himself not to grab her by the neck and squeeze the deceitful, perfidious breath out of her. "Oh, shut up," he growled menacingly. "You have one last chance. Make up your mind."

He would back down, she was certain; in confrontation with her, he had always backed down. The mother took it as an indication of her son's weakness; it never occurred to her, that it might be something else. She scanned his face for a sign of vacillation, any hesitancy that she might exploit, and saw none. She met only a stony resolve, a barely-repressed murderousness that frightened her. Furiously, silently, she removed the necklace and flung it to the floor.

"Accio aurum!" He grabbed the necklace as it flew up towards him. With remarkable aplomb, he declared "I am delighted that we will have the pleasure of your company, at the Malfoys' party, after all."

"We? You are going to embarrass me by bringing that trollop?"

He feigned an expression of bafflement. "I'm not sure what you mean - are you speaking of Miss Faraday,? Oh, but it is not she who will accompany me. No; I am bringing my true love."

She snorted disdainfully. "And who would that be?"

"Oh, you will be very pleased, no doubt". He smiled at her gleefully. "Good family, you cannot possibly criticize. No, I suppose you can always criticize. Wealthy, too." He paused, as she raised her eyebrows in surprise. He began to walk casually out of the room. In an offhand manner, he added, "You will meet him soon enough." As he shut the door behind him, it did his heart good to hear her shriek in horror.