Owls and Musings

Chapter 8

Two days later, Severus was still sitting in the chair by her bed waiting for her to awake. A barely touched tea tray sat on a low table nearby alongside his violin. He had thought that hearing the music, even subconsciously, might help bring her back sooner. Her face had taken on a more relaxed look during his playing, but she still remained unconscious. The music had calmed his nervousness though, so he had continued on and off. Right now he was reading one of her magical texts from upstairs.

Esme had turned several times in her sleep and the fever had broken early on. Every three hours Severus had dutifully administered the potions and rubbed the salves into her skin. He glanced at the clock on her bedside table. He still had another hour before her next dose. He could hear the house-elf puttering in the kitchen getting supper ready. He settled further into the chair and resumed his reading. A soft sound from the bed, however, grabbed his attention.

She was awake.

"Shhh, don't try to talk. Drink some water first." He filled up a glass from the pitcher nearby and helped her sit up. "Sip it slowly," he coached.

She sipped some water and cleared her throat.

"What happened?" she finally croaked out.

"Dragon flu," he said resuming his seat in the chair, but sitting forward to hold her hand. "Do you remember anything?" he asked as he smoothed some hair back from her face, his black eyes drinking her in.

She shook her head and sank back into the pillows.

"I've had a cough for weeks, and I've been so tired lately. I do remember coming home and starting some dinner."

"What day was that?" he urged.

She thought hard, still a bit befuddled. "The twenty-eighth? I think." She sipped some more. "I don't remember much after that. I kept hearing you calling me though."

"Probably when I arrived on the first; you fell out of bed."

"How long since then?" she asked, a bit alarmed.

"It's the third now," he said as he rearranged the blankets around her and perched near her on the bed. "We got to you just in time."

"We?"

"Dumbledore helped me obtain the potions I needed to break through..." He paused as he heard a scurry near the door.

"Professor, Sir. Your Essie is awake?" It was Wizby, poking her head around the corner.

"Yes, Wizby. Would you get some broth for Miss Esme?" The little elf jumped for joy and ran back to the kitchen.

"A house-elf, Severus?"

"From Hogwarts. Dumbledore sent her over to help."

What he was saying was slowly filtering into her fogged brain.

"Dumbledore knows about us? What about my Aunt?"

"Only Dumbledore and Wizby know. Actually, Dumbledore has known about us for years - part of the relationship he and I have. Ahhh, he recognised your Owl form that first time," he admitted. "Your Aunt is still unaware of us though and does not even know you've been sick."

Relief crossed her face. She didn't care about Albus knowing, he always seemed to know everything anyways. Her Aunt was another matter; Esme was unsure as to how McGonagall would take her relationship with Severus. She had been putting off her Aunt's matchmaking endeavours for years now. They always entailed some Gryffindor or Ravenclaw that her Aunt thought perfect for her niece. A Slytherin was probably very far from Minerva's list of appropriate types of suitors. Then another thought came to her and she groaned, "Lessons..."

"Shhh, don't worry. Dave came by when he hadn't heard from you and he took word to the village that lessons were cancelled for the nonce. Apparently Dave and Maddie have also found a new permanent job with a muggle show called 'Riverdance' that is starting up. He said he would tell you about it when you were feeling better."

"Oh. Well, that's great for them," she said a bit flatly. It appeared as if the quartet was breaking up. Maybe she should have stayed asleep.

"And you received a letter from the ministry today." He took the envelope from her night table and handed it to her. She pushed it back to him.

"You read it. My eyes are getting tired." She closed them, settling further into the pillows. Definitely, going back to sleep was the better option.

He nodded and opened the envelope, pulling out two pieces of official Ministry stationary.

"From the Office of the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge

To Miss Esmerelda Scott.

We regret to inform you that with the recent reorganisation of the departments within the Ministry, your job was found to be redundant and we are no longer in need of your services."

"I've been sacked!" She sat up, startled, feigning sleep forgotten.

"Apparently." He continued on with the letter, ignoring her mumblings.

"We have taken the liberty to credit your account at Gringotts with your last pay and two months' severance. Enclosed is a letter of recommendation for future employment.

Sincerely,

Cornelius Fudge"

She started cursing quite fluently in several languages. Severus was impressed. He was unaware she knew that many! But this took care of the bad job situation. He was secretly pleased - he wished he could claim credit for it, but the letter was legit.

"Miss Essie shouldn't yell. Miss Essie needs to drink her broth and rest her lungs!"

Wizby had re-entered with a large cup of broth. Severus took it from her and handed it to Esme.

"You are absolutely correct, Wizby, Miss Esme does need to rest her lungs or she'll have a relapse." He glared menacingly at Esme. It always worked on the students. She didn't seem impressed, but she quieted down nevertheless.

"And Professor, Sir needs to sleep, too. Right after dinner!" The small elf stamped her foot before she turned around and stalked back out to the kitchen with Casey following in her wake, tail high and probably hoping for handouts. He was considering Wizby his new best friend.

Esme looked at Severus, "You haven't been sleeping?"

"Been keeping an eye on you. Now drink your broth, I'm going to owl Albus and let him know you're awake." He bent down to place a kiss on her forehead. As he straightened up he stroked her face lovingly with the back of his fingers. "You don't know how relieved I am you woke up. You had me scared to death!" he admitted.

As he passed through the kitchen, Wizby told him his dinner would be ready momentarily and Professor, Sir better eat it.

He glowered in her direction - really, she was a bold elf - but she just cocked her head at him with her hands on her hips as if to say 'You don't fool me, Professor, Sir.' He huffed and continued out to the garden to get Esme's resident owl Kyle.

When he returned, dinner was being set at the long table for him.

"I'll be right back, Wizby. I'm going to check on Miss Esme."

He found her sound asleep and half of the broth gone. At least this was a real sleep; she was curled up on her side, pillows scrunched under her neck - just as she liked it. He sent the dishes to the kitchen and tucked the comforter closer around her shoulders.

"Severus?" So she wasn't really asleep yet.

"Hmmm?"

"Don't leave me tonight," she said in a sleepy voice, without opening her eyes.

"I won't, dear. I'm just going to eat my dinner and I'll be right back."

She nodded and snuggled further into the covers.

He bolted his dinner, much to Wizby's further annoyance, and hurried back to the bedroom. Slipping into the pyjamas he had Accio-ed from the guestroom, he curled up next to his beloved and held her in his arms as they both slept through the night and most of the following morning.

Several days later Esme was allowed to sit outside in her garden as long as she was well wrapped up. Wizby was still in residence handling the cooking and cleaning; Dumbledore's instructions were that she was to stay there indefinitely.

Severus didn't mind as it meant he could concentrate on getting Esmerelda better. Today was a case in point. She was well enough to sit in her garden and soak in the sun while he quietly read to her. He had her tucked into the old steamer lounge with a lap rug across her legs and an old tartan shawl of Minerva's around her shoulders.

"Severus, what do I do now?" she asked him, wistfully.

He marked his place in the book with his finger and looked up. "How so?"

"No job," she said simply.

"Keep teaching those tone-deaf students of yours," he said acerbically.

She chuckled. "I suppose they are, aren't they? I'm just so used to going to work at the end of the summer..."

"I'm serious. Teach. Music," he emphasised. "Or, hire yourself out as a research assistant."

"Hmm, that's a thought." She leered up at him. "Maybe you should hire me?"

"Too distracting. Nothing would ever get done and my reputation as a hard arse would go up in dragon flames." He smirked.

She laughed some more. "Very true. How is the double spy business going?"

"Roughly. Something is definitely getting ready to gear up. I'm not sure what though. Malfoy is not being entirely chatty about things."

"Do you think He is attempting to come back?"

He nodded slowly. "I think so, as does the Headmaster. The Dark Lord tried, with the help of Quirrell, to get the Philosopher's stone last year. This year, Lucius snuck in an enchanted diary of Riddle's that possessed a student forcing her to reopen Salazar Slytherin's secret chamber, releasing a Basilisk and nearly killing her by draining her of her life energy. So, yes, I think he is trying all sorts of different means to try and come back." Esme's eyes grew wide as he told her this, the blood draining from her face.

"A Basilisk lived in the school?"

He nodded his head. "Apparently for quite a long time. It appears that this creature was responsible for Myrtle's death fifty years ago."

"Moaning Myrtle?" She was incredulous.

An owl flew towards them at that point and landed by Esme's hand. It was the Daily Prophet. She paid the owl and opened up the paper.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed.

"What is it..." He looked over her shoulder and let out a long, loud string of curses.

"How the hell did he escape?" Snape yelled. His face was red now with anger. This was the worst she had ever seen him.

"Severus, what is it? I know it's bad but not that bad, is it?"

"Just the worst killer in a decade who just happens to be Potter's Godfather."

"Oh. How do you know that?"

"What, that he's Potter's Godfather? Albus told me years ago." He cursed again then started to calm down as he considered the ramifications. "It is said he is the one who told the Dark Lord of their location. He was the secret keeper of their Fidelius charm," he spat out vehemently. He crumpled the paper in his fist and threw it to the side.

"Wait a minute, Severus. Do you still hold a grudge against him? For sixth year?"

"Yes," he snapped. Then he did a double take as he looked at her. "You know about that?"

"Of course I do. I'm a Gryffindor; we always knew what went on in the pranks department. Besides, you couldn't miss hearing James, Remus and Peter tearing Sirius a new arse hole. James especially. They were best mates, but James didn't talk to Sirius the rest of term for that one."

"That wasn't a prank," he said ignoring the revelation that she had just told about the dynamics of the Marauders. "He tried to bloody well have me killed, or worse, bitten."

"By Lupin, I know."

"Are there no secrets?" Snape asked, exasperated. "Black should've been expelled!" he continued venting.

She looked up at him and reached up to soothe his cheek. "Probably, but that was over fifteen years ago, Severus, let it go. Why waste the energy? Concentrate on the here and now," she said quietly.

"Now, he is loose again and heading towards Hogwarts, according to the Prophet." He pointed to the discarded paper on the ground.

"Concentrate on that."

"I'll try," he begrudged her. She sincerely doubted he would though, as he gathered her against him resting his cheek against her head and stayed silent as they looked over moor and garden, the peace shattered.

His vacation came to an end far too soon for his liking. He had ended up staying most of the summer to ensure himself that Esme was not going to relapse as soon as he returned to the school.

Her illness had made it clear to him how much she truly meant to him. He had come to think of her cottage as 'Home', and he began to realise that he never wanted to lose her. They had never gotten around to talking about marriage over the years. Things had just settled into a comfortable routine that worked perfectly around both of their busy schedules. Now he was starting to think about the idea.

As the school year and the hunt for Sirius Black dragged on, he became convinced that maybe they should start having that conversation. But his doubts assailed him. How could he ask her to marry him with the Dark Lord possibly on the rise again? He didn't want to place her in that sort of jeopardy. In the end he was still of two minds and still had not come to a decision when he visited her the following summer.

Wizby was still in residence and was happy to see Professor, Sir again. Esme was back to normal, though she never regained the weight she had lost. She said this was a good thing. He thought, privately, that she was too thin. Over the year she had taken Snape's advice and had increased her music lessons business. He found himself tramping through the woods again to escape the din. Esme just laughed at him, packed his lunch and kissed him at the door as he left.

Instead of the regular August trek to the recital hall, they attended one of the productions of the 'Riverdance' show in Edinburgh where Dave and Maddie worked. While Esme reveled in the music and the production numbers, Severus found the noise level a bit much to take. All that clogging and tapping was louder than a Quidditch match! When they met Dave and Maddie afterwards for drinks, he kept his opinions to himself and only said how much he had appreciated the music. When they got home that evening, he took a headache draught.

He did invite her up to watch the tournament tasks the following year, but she declined his offer stating she had no desire to see students risking their lives for a trophy cup, Quidditch was bad enough. He had decided at the end of the previous summer that he would propose to her after the tournament had ended and contacted a jeweller in Diagon Alley to prepare a ring for her to his specifications. Of course this was before the Dark Mark started to burn again on his arm and before Potter was chosen as a fourth champion.

After the third task ended so disastrously and he had heard what Potter had said, he knew his relatively easy time of being a double spy was over. The hardest game had now started. When the headmaster reminded him of his duty, he knew what he had to do first.

+++

"Esme, where are you?" he called out from the fireplace.

"Coming, Severus." She walked into the parlour and knelt in front of the grate. "What's the matter? You're white as a sheet."

"You must get out of there, now! Send the elf back to the castle, grab the cat and leave."

"What's happened?"

"The Dark Lord is back, he has a new body and I have to go report in like a good little Death Eater. I'm already two hours late thanks to the end of the tournament. I'll tell you later - but you have to get out of there now in case he breaks through my Occlumens," he said, and then he disappeared from her fireplace.