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Two Sides Against the Middle by Rose of the West [Reviews - 2]

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Disclaimer: Except for some OCs, the characters here and the world they inhabit are the creation and property of JK Rowling. This chapter takes place during the time line of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Margo Snape was distracted when she walked up to her father's office one evening. She had become over-confident in the fact that she was the Headmaster's daughter. She was thinking about the fact that Neville had looked at her in Herbology class today, almost the way he used to look. She was disobeying every rule of self-defense that her parents had taught her.

As she walked through a quiet seventh-floor hallway, an arm snaked out of an alcove and pulled her in. Margo found herself pressed between the wall and the body of Draco Malfoy. He held her in such a way that reaching for her wand was impossible. Her only hope lay in summoning help from a bystander, in a part of the castle where the only passers-by would not be kindly inclined toward her.

“What are you doing, Draco?”

“I'm fulfilling a long-held wish, Sweet Thing. It's not often I get the bonus of delighting my parents, too.” He moved his face toward hers, but she twisted away. She couldn't twist out of his embrace, however, and he took advantage of the new position to explore her figure. She twisted back.

“Stop, Draco, I don't want this.”

“Every girl wants this, Margo. If I can trap you, then you'll have to marry me. My parents would be delighted.”

“I'm not even truly pure-blood.”

“No, but your father is important to the Dark Lord, and your mother, too. When Potter is extinguished, your family will be important and anyone who marries you will be important, too.”

“I don't believe it.”

“Why do you suppose Nott's been hanging around with you? He's hoping to wear you down.”

Margo stopped trying to squirm away at that one. “He says he's not joining the Death Eaters.”

“He may say it, but he's still trying to attract you. His father is wild to get you into the family.”

Margo didn't believe it...quite. She renewed her efforts to break away.

“Stop wiggling, Sweet Thing. You might enjoy it, you know.”

“I can't imagine that.” She used her knee this time, and broke free, but he had grabbed the front of her robe and as she moved away it ripped, along with the blouse underneath.




Neville Longbottom was working his way back to Gryffindor Tower when he heard a couple arguing. He didn't pay much attention to it until he realized that one of the parties was Margo Snape. He eased back toward the voices, just to see what was happening. Suddenly he heard the sound of ripping fabric and a shriek. He came up behind Draco Malfoy, who still had the ragged edge of Margo's robe in one hand and was trying to contain her with the other while standing a bit strangely. Neville never gave it a thought.

“Stupify!”

He performed the spell silently, but it worked perfectly. In an instant, Malfoy was on the floor, probably developing a bruise on his own face for once. Hope stood there looking at him, too startled to move. Neville forced himself not to look at the peach-colored lace he glimpsed and grabbed her hand, running down the hallway. Malfoy lay silently on the floor, not knowing the identity of his assailant.

Hope was in a daze, holding her robes together with one hand and enjoying the feel of Neville's hand in her other. When he got to one part of the hallway he paced back and forth a few times, dragging her with him, but she never noticed. She was surprised when a door appeared and Neville hastily opened it and pulled her inside.

“Are you all right? Did he—What did—Have you been hurt?”

“No. He was trying to kiss me, but I kept moving away. I honestly don't think he meant to rip my robes...” As Neville watched, her shoulders trembled, and then shook, and then tears were running down her face. He pulled her into his arms and held her carefully. She snuggled right into him and kept crying as he smoothed at her hair and rubbed her back.

As she calmed down he could feel her melt even further into his arms. She was so soft and even sweet. This was no ice princess. This was the girl who had been his friend for years. He found himself becoming interested in her in a way he knew he should not. She tilted her lips toward his, and he knew it was time to go. He took a step backwards and tried to gently set her away.

“Lucky?” She looked hurt and surprised.

“Nothing has changed, Margo.”

She lowered her face for a moment, and he saw her take a deep breath. Finally she looked back up, and she was Margo Snape again. “No, of course not,” she said quietly.

“Let me fix your clothing.”

She held her blouse together and turned her face away as he performed the Reparo spell and then did the same with her robes. Try as he might, he couldn't catch her eye again. The moment was over, due to his own words, and although he knew he was right to stop it, he couldn't help but wonder.

“Your father's office is just around the corner.”

“All right.”

“Have your wand ready.”

She nodded and followed him as he slipped out the door and quietly made his way to the stone gargoyle. She gave the password and looked around as she stepped onto the stairs. He was gone.

Headmaster Snape answered the knock on his door and looked up from his desk to see his daughter completely disheveled. He got up and walked toward her. “What happened, Miss Snape?”

“Draco—Then Neville—Oh, Daddy!” cried the girl, throwing herself into his arms. He held her there and let her cry for a few minutes before taking her to the couch and sitting her down.

“All right, Little Girl. I need to know. What happened?”

“I—I—“ This was going nowhere, so he took her face into his hands and looked in her eyes. In her state she was unable to resist, and he saw the entire thing. The first instinct he indulged was to pull her back into his arms in gratitude that the worst had not happened. As he did that, he pondered the second instinct, which was to run down the hallway and blast the Malfoy boy back to his parents' home. The punishment the boy received at the hands of his daughter and Longbottom would have to suffice.

The third instinct was to look the girl in the eyes again and scold her for being so thoughtless and careless. He did this with great fervor.

“Yes, Sir,” answered the girl meekly. She had been at fault on that point, and she knew it.

“Will you be able to deal with this, shake it off and go on?”

“Yes, Daddy. It's just so hard with Neville pushing me away like that. Now maybe Ted doesn't really like me, either. Don't I have a value of my own?”

“Your mother no doubt has told you how very precious you are to us, dear Hope.” He looked at her robes. “Longbottom's tailoring skills are lacking.”

“I was holding them together and trembling when he was casting the spell. I think he was trying hard not to look at me, too.”

“Some of your mother's things are in the bedroom. Why don't you go change?”

She walked into her parents' bedroom and squeaked at the way her robes looked in a mirror, before rummaging in her mother's closet. As she changed, her father paged through Emily's diary, looking for an entry he had recently read. When he looked up, his daughter was standing in the doorway, wearing a pair of her mother's trousers, which were too short, and an overlarge black sweater which brought back an entirely different memory.

He had waked her with kisses and wished her a Happy Christmas. She rolled over and snuggled into him, her round belly pressed up against him. He went out to the kitchen to fix some tea and take out some pastries to eat for breakfast. When he came out to the sitting room she was standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but the black sweater, which came to her thighs. She had knitted it herself on the sly, so that he could have something to wear under his robes on colder winter days.

He smirked. “It's customary to wrap presents, you know.”

She looked up at him provocatively. “One present is wrapped inside the other.”

He set the tea tray down and reached for her hand, drawing her to sit on some cushions near the Christmas tree. He proceeded to unwrap his first gift and then made love to her to the complete delight of both. Later they wrapped in blankets and continued to open gifts, taking long breaks to enjoy their togetherness.


The Headmaster cleared his throat. “Your mother made me that sweater for our first Christmas together. She was pregnant with you at the time.”

The girl fingered the cables and knots worked into the sweater. “Have you worn it much, Daddy?”

He looked a bit uncomfortable, but assumed she knew the worst already. “As you know, my work occasionally takes me to many places. Sometimes I have to be outside in the cold for a long while. I have often worn that sweater under my robes on such occasions. It's like wearing your mother's love.”

He sat her back down on the couch and picked up his wife's diary. “I thought that you might want to read this. Your mother wrote it about a month after Marcus died. I hope it will remind you of how very loved and valuable you are to us.”

6 December 1981

It's my first full day home. My first thought, upon waking in my own bed this morning, was to pat the baby in my tummy. Then I realized he's not there; he died a month ago. Just as the waves of pain hit me, I noticed the little hands patting my face and the little voice saying, “Mama, Mama.”

Suddenly my arms and heart were filled with Hope. It's selfish to wish that I could leave my body and go to be with Marcus. It's wrong to mourn so deeply that I forget to make the most of the life I have with my dear husband and little girl. I need to move beyond the anger I feel toward Sirius for betraying the Potters, Dumbledore for letting it happen, and even with Severus for being separated from me during the day before it happened. I need to stop being so angry at Fate that the pregnancy ended the way it did. Somehow I will figure out how to properly balance my grief and the joy of the world that is. I think this little girl of mine will be my tutor in learning how to live with my grief.


“Mum sometimes has a tough time with things, too, doesn't she?”

“Everyone does, my Hope. Your mother once told me that I was important to her, and I tried to laugh it off. I've learned just how wonderful it is. What I want you to remember is that you are important to your mother and me, and to your brother as well. She says right here how important you were at one of the darkest moments of our life together. You are even important to that dunderhead, Longbottom, if my eyes don't deceive me.”

The girl sighed, and with a rueful smile he knew that it was as comforting to her now as it had been to him twenty years before. He ruffled her curls and then kissed her forehead, sending her to bed in the room she had used during the Christmas Holiday.

My Dear Emily,

I've just spent a delightful evening with a young lady whom you know well. Together we missed you and Brendon greatly, but we enjoyed our time with each other. I told her some of the things in your diary and kept quite silent on others. I'm sure you can imagine which is which.

I've been reading lately about our first year together and regretting the foolishness of mine that kept us from enjoying newlywed life as much as we might have. I've also read up through your first experience with the Dark Lord, and about Marcus's short life. We have come through and done so much together, Emily, and there is so much more for us to do. I live for the day we can be together again.

With love,
Severus




A/N: Since writing this bit, I learned that it was a common thing for young ladies to knit sweaters for their fiances in the 19th century in Devon, England. Of course Emily only had a week long engagement, so she worked on it as a Christmas present. She also lived in a different time and place, but it seemed an obvious thing. Those who knit a great deal will take every opportunity and excuse to knit for their loved ones.

Thank you very much for reading and reviewing. Thanks especially go to beta reader Trickie Woo.

Two Sides Against the Middle by Rose of the West [Reviews - 2]

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