Be Careful
110: What Dreams May Come
By Anne B. Walsh
Author Notes:
The song Cecy sings is "Out of My Dreams" from Oklahoma! The closing words, which have been omitted, are "into a dream with you."
Lucius picked himself up off the floor painfully. He felt as though he ought to know what had happened to him, but somehow he did not.
“You’ve been paid your wages,” said a familiar voice from the shadows of the indistinct space around him. “Exactly what you deserved for the work you did.”
“Narcissa?” Lucius stared as his wife stepped into the light, smiling coolly at him. “But you... I...” His chest tightened in panic. “I had no choice,” he said, backing away from her. “You made me think you wanted—you led me to believe—don’t touch me! Stay back!”
“Calm yourself, Lucius.” Narcissa drew out a chair from a table, neither of which had been there a moment before. “I’m not here to hurt you.” Her smile chilled several more degrees, striking ice into his bones. “You’ll do that without any need of my help.”
“Narcissa, what is going on?” Lucius demanded.
“What do you think?” Narcissa laughed. “You’re dead, husband mine. And our son is alive, and likely to be so for a long time yet.” Her sidelong glare sent Lucius several steps back. “No thanks to you.”
“You have no idea what he put me through,” snapped Lucius, shoving the question of life and death to the back of his mind for the moment. “No idea how he has ruined our House and our bloodline, how he has trampled on everything we ever tried to teach him—”
“I have a better idea than you might think,” Narcissa cut him off. “And having seen the results, I say good for him! Our way led to destruction, and his... well, see for yourself.”
At a clap of her hands, a shadow turned to light, and the light into discernable figures. Six young adults were laughing and dodging the growling lunges of a six-year-old boy, who paused every few moments to snort very realistic-looking fire from his nostrils. Harry Potter and his Weasley girl spun apart deftly, a boy with a look of the Granger Mudblood about him jumped clear over the child’s head, two near-identical versions of Luna Lovegood wove around each other as though they were playing a shell game, and—
“You see?” Narcissa said in a tone surprisingly satisfied for a mother watching the wreck of her life’s work, as Draco caught the little boy around the waist, lifting him high and twirling him around so that the fire made a complete circle above their heads. “He is alive, which we are not. He is free, which we would not be, were we alive. And he is happy, which we have never been and did not know how to be. Though I like to think I am learning.”
“Happiness. Pfeh.” Lucius turned away from the pictured scene. “There is more to life than happiness.”
“Really?” Narcissa widened her eyes innocently. “When you find out what that ‘more’ is, do tell me. I will be glad to hear it.”
Lucius glowered at her. “Oh, be quiet. And make whatever-that-is go away.” He flapped a hand at Draco and his friends, who were now playing keep-away with the child. “It offends me.”
“I’m afraid you must get used to being offended, then.” Narcissa leaned back in her chair, her tones honey-sweet. “Since this is what we two will be doing for the next few hundred years.”
“What?”
“It was so decided.” Blowing once on her fingernails, Narcissa buffed them on her robes. “My sins were considered severe enough to warrant your continued company, and yours severe enough to warrant mine. As for watching Draco live his life, and his descendants after him, that is what we make of it. To me, it will be a pleasure. To you...” She snickered. “I cannot know for certain, but I can guess.”
“Why, you...” Lucius stalked towards his wife, only to be caught mid-step by what felt like a net woven of air. Shove as he might, he could not get closer to her than two paces away.
“Physical harm to one another is prohibited here.” Narcissa was still inspecting her nails. “As it is to oneself, should you think of that. Here, have a seat.” She beckoned, and a second chair scooted out of the shadows and impacted with Lucius’ legs, dropping him backwards into it. “For what small good I did in my lifetime, I have received one final boon.”
Lucius struggled upright in the chair. “What might that be?”
Narcissa snapped her fingers. Lucius cringed slightly, looking around for the effect. When ten seconds went by with no change in their surroundings, he laughed contemptuously. “Is that the best you can do?” he asked.
Except that he did not. No sound escaped his lips, either laughter or words. His mouth moved, his throat vibrated, but a Silencing Charm could have done the trick no better.
He bristled up and glared at Narcissa, who only chuckled. “I have been wanting to do that for years,” she said, stretching luxuriously and shooting him an arch glance. “Why don’t you sit back, Lucius? Relax, and enjoy the show? I know I will.”
Of course you will. And I will have to suffer doubly, once from seeing it and once from seeing you enjoy it, through all of eternity...
Severus awakened from a pleasant dream to the golden light of afternoon. His lips felt warm, and three words lingered in his mind for no reason he could recall.
“In the garden...”
He sat up, noting with satisfaction that the dizziness was less bothersome this time, and cast a complicated charm over the room that would replay what had happened within its walls in the last few hours. The images thus obtained would be fragmentary and incomplete, but it was the quickest way he knew to be sure he was not deluding himself.
Nothing... nothing... nothing... ah, there!
A slender woman in robes of her favorite blue bent over his own recumbent self, joy bestowing radiance upon an already pretty face. She whispered something into his ear, then dropped a kiss onto his lips and hurried from the room. The image shattered before she made it to the door, but Severus didn’t care. He had seen enough.
She was here, she was glad to see me, and she has told me where to meet her.
He glanced around the hospital wing. If he recalled correctly, there was a bathroom around here somewhere...
Thirty minutes, a shower, and a Freshening Charm on his robes later, Severus opened the door to the corridor outside. A shrieking giggle startled him considerably; his hand was on his wand before he realized the source of the sound was nothing more than a toddler who had just rounded the corner and was headed straight for him. Severus was not usually good at telling the difference between male and female children, but this little boy had made the job easier by removing all obstacles between his skin and the outside world.
Apart from a few drops of water, that is.
The boy dashed around Severus and hid behind his legs as a well-known voice split the air. “Paul? Paul, where are you?”
“Are you Paul?” Severus asked the boy, who giggled again and nodded. “Someone is looking for you...”
Minerva McGonagall came around the corner and stopped dead. “Good afternoon, Severus,” she said with what had to be considered admirable composure under the circumstances. “I’m glad to see you... up and about.”
“I prefer it to the alternative myself,” acknowledged Severus.
“Most of us do,” Minerva agreed. “Severus, have you by chance seen a small naked child?”
“You mean this?” Severus drew his robes aside to reveal Paul, who yelped at the sight of Minerva.
“Yes!” Minerva pounced and lifted the boy adeptly into the air. “Apollo Regulus Black, that was very naughty of you. You never run away from Gran when you’re having a bath, do you understand me? Thank you, Severus,” she added over her shoulder. “There are times I think my daughter gave birth to an eel.”
It took all Severus’ self-control to keep from laughing in Minerva’s face, and even at that he had to go back into the hospital wing after she had left to find a pillow with which to smother the sound of his snickers.
I knew life would be different here. I see now that I have not even begun to imagine the vast array of occurrences covered by those nine letters.
As he made his way towards the rose garden, Severus kept his eyes open for more differences, both the subtle (a few of the students he recognized wore different House ties than he had expected) and the blatant (he passed a courtyard in which a game of pick-up Quidditch had been organized and spotted Sirius and Regulus Black and James Potter among the players). A holiday atmosphere prevailed over the whole castle, as though everyone present had been under tension which was now relieved.
Not unlike what must be happening where I came from, if Harry has succeeded.
On the third floor, Hermione Granger leaned from a window, reaching her hand outside. When she drew it in, a large hawk with red feathers was preening its left wing on her wrist. A soundless explosion, and the youngest Weasley boy stood beside her instead, sliding an arm around her back and patting her slightly curved belly with a fatuous expression before leaning down for a kiss. Severus moved on quickly, unsure if he were going to laugh, be sick, or envy them.
Which is laughable in and of itself. Why should I envy those children when what I want is waiting for me?
He sighed, stopping halfway down a corridor to gaze out unseeingly at the grounds. Because some part of me still does not believe it can be so. Not like this. Not for me. Even after I have seen her face and kissed her lips, after she has returned my kiss and told me where to come to her, I still cannot believe there could be a real woman who would return my love...
“Don’t make me come down there,” a female voice crooned from above him.
Severus jumped, more literally than he had thought possible—his feet actually left the floor—and spent a few moments looking around, but the corridor was deserted.
Still, whether I imagined her or not, Lily is right. I know better than to listen to my doubts at this stage.
Taking a deep breath, he strode onward.
“Mum,” said Lyssa in the hallway above the one where Snape had paused. “That wasn’t nice.”
“No, but it was necessary. How is your father’s game coming along?”
“Three goals, two broken noses, and a sprained wrist.”
“Good.”
Turning the final corner which led into the courtyard outside the rose garden, Severus stopped. He had seen this scene before, in the last moments before he awakened. Momentarily he wondered if the other watchers of the scene would now see him as well.
They will, but only as I relate to Draco. He is their primary concern, for whichever reasons seem best to them.
And there he is now.
Severus drew his wand.
The youngest person present, the brown-haired six-year-old, was the first to notice Severus’ appearance, and his immediate response was to stick out his tongue. “Nyah!” he challenged. “You can’t scare me! Dragons aren’t afraid of anything! Except other dragons, but you’re not another dragon, so nyah!”
“Charlie,” said the boy Draco’s age who looked as though he might be the small child’s brother. “That’s enough.”
“I don’t have to listen to you either,” Charlie retorted. “You’re not—”
“We’ve been over this, Charlie,” Draco interrupted, sliding between the two Lunas to come to the boy’s side. “You listen to your mum and dad and the other grownups just like you do to me. And that includes Ray and Neenie, because they’re your brother and sister. I know they’re not dragons,” he added at the rebellious look on the boy’s face. “But you have to grow up right while you’re still a human, if you want to be a good dragon when you get old enough. Remember?”
“Yeah.” Charlie scuffed the sole of his shoe against the stone that floored the courtyard a few times. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Give me a hug.” Draco kept his feet admirably, considering the tackle-like properties of the named accolade. “Now, it’s time for dragons and other people to be someplace else.”
Charlie’s brother scooped the little boy off the ground and carried him out of the courtyard, one of the Lunas amusing the child along the way by pretending to tickle him. Harry Potter, his forehead unscarred, bowed to Severus, then tagged Ginny Weasley on the shoulder and took off running in the other direction. Ginny growled and gave chase, and the other Luna, the one Severus suspected came from his own native world, drifted after them, pausing to drop Severus a curtsey.
“I’m going to marry him next month,” she said. “Don’t do anything that won’t heal before then.”
A fit of choking overtook Draco. Severus took the opportunity to examine him closely as Luna departed.
Now that I know his entire story, I can say with assurance what I have said once before. I will not be ashamed to claim this boy as a member of my family.
But we should establish the order of precedence immediately.
He waited for Draco to catch his breath, then advanced to within five paces and leveled his wand between the grey eyes. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t.”
Draco shrugged. “It worked.”
Severus considered this. “Fair enough,” he said, sliding his wand away. “Don’t do it again.”
“Yes, sir.” Draco sketched a bow and started after Luna, but paused just before he turned the corner that would have taken him out of Severus’ sight. “Hurt her,” he said conversationally, “and I’ll kill you.”
A smile got onto Severus’ face before he could stop it. “Likewise. Boy.”
Clapping a hand to his chest, Draco overacted a mortal wound, then grinned and ran off the way his friends had gone.
Severus unlatched the gate and entered the rose garden in the sunset light. He had no doubt about which way to turn. A woman was singing nearby.
Not a perfect voice, but dearer to me than any training could make it.
Out of my dreams and into your arms I long to fly;
I will come as evening comes to woo a waiting sky...
As he listened to the words, Severus smiled to himself.
It could have been written for us. Perhaps, in some world, it was.
The singer sang on.
Out of my dreams and into the hush of falling shadows,
When the mist is low and stars are breaking through,
Then out of my dreams I’ll go...
He stepped past the last bush as her voice rose to the highest note in the piece.
She stilled, her hand trembling on the stem of a half-open bud.
For five seconds, a minor eternity, neither of them moved.
Then they were in each other’s arms, laughing and crying together, breaking off their kisses for a few seconds at a time to wipe away a tear, to whisper a word or two of love, or simply to look at one another.
The old dream was gone forever, and neither of them had a particle of heart left over to mourn for it. Sharing a reality instead would surely bring them some pain, but their joy was all the sweeter for that knowledge.
Besides, there are some kinds of pain that bring greater joy in their wake.
Such as believing one has died and been condemned to eternal torment at the hands of one’s wife’s son.
Severus chuckled at the thought and kissed Cecilia once again.
They were married after dinner in a brief ceremony in the small room behind the Great Hall. The same three witnesses who had testified to their dream handfasting all those years ago were present, as were Draco and Luna. At Severus’ request, Lily Potter also attended. James’ friends, tipped off beforehand by Cecilia, dragged him away before he could become unpleasant.
The bride wore her blue robes and her old gardening shoes, carried a bouquet of freshly opened white roses, and sported earrings which appeared at first glance to be radishes but were not. The groom had no special accouterments, but the love and longing in his eyes put all such trappings to shame. It was clear he had been waiting for this day his entire life.
“I’m afraid,” Mrs. Cecilia Snape whispered to her husband as they reached the door of his quarters, her earrings and bouquet having been left behind with their proper owner.
“Of?” Severus asked, unlocking the door with a tap of his wand and opening it.
“When you look at me...” Cecy shook her head, words failing her. “I can’t be worth what I see in your eyes, Severus, I just can’t be.”
Severus laughed and lifted his wife into his arms as though she weighed nothing. “What a strange coincidence,” he said, carrying her across the threshold. “I was about to say the same to you.”
The door closed softly behind them, obeying the sign someone had stenciled in bright green across its bottom panel:
DO NOT DISTURB
Author Notes:
One! One more wonderful chapter! At least I think it’s wonderful. Your verdict remains to be seen.
That sequel may get written after all. There’s just so much I know about this world that I won’t have a chance to tell you otherwise. But some FD and some of the neglected stories first. Promise.
See you tomorrow, with the final chapter of Anne B. Walsh’s Be Careful: "You Just Might Get It"!