Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Severus had not been aware that his little wife's birthday celebration had ushered in a fresh new set of hemlines and silhouettes. Yet he knew that the remainder of the month of April had brought many showers. Literal and figuratively for much to his amazement at one of the dinners he had actually been able to partake. He Found out that at last the council had stopped the scheduled rains and yet the skies still poured, organically. Leaving everything cold and muddy, himself included. The house elf constantly cleaning the floors, his hot breath muttering colorful curse words. That was probably a contributing factor that helped usher in the figurative downpour that the remainder of the two weeks brought. The black cat flu had its claws within all of the Institutions, not just her own. Thankfully, for his little wife's sake, none of the rats in her magnificent den died but the other colonies had not come out so lucky. At Umbridge's alone a total of 10 little bodies, 3 of those of belonging to infants under the age of two had to be disposed of. Though The foundings were no children she had ever seen, their passing had hurt his wife immensely. He had tried his best or so he told himself to help console her but he too had been busy these past few weeks. He would return home tired, hungry and though he wanted her body near, Severus hadn't had the mental capacity or Patience to listen to her voice complain and whine. He wanted Peace and quiet, with her strong and sure heartbeat within his ear shoving all the problems of the day away. Instead he was privy to watching her slip from off of him far before his thigh muscles got to feel the very plump curve of her. She would pace about his room, going on about HER problems, he would stay as silent as he could but eventually for it had happened multiple times that he had "hurt her"! Now choosing the high road, Severus would lay down, with his back towards her and his wife eventually would notice his "sleeping" form and would leave.

He had been called and summoned suddenly for the fact that a warden had come across what was thought to be an unauthorized portkey. Of course it had sent the boy on a one-way trip but had malfunctioned, being the death of him but not before he could show his commanding officer where he had stumbled upon it. Like all portkeys, it had been camouflage as unsuspecting rubbish. Severus Snape, the Supreme, along with countless other Death Eaters and Wardens had been looking for rubbish amongst piles of rubbish! Even the Warden Garrick had been taken back from his wife in attempts to survey the slums quicker. For the half faced boy had come of age beyond the walls and as such hadn't needed as much instruction as some of the others. Portkeys unless charmed by a piss poor Wizard had no differentiating signs, though of course they had their suspicions that it could have been a one off situation. Just some slum dwellers in conspiracy with a wand wielding bastard in attempts to escape and leave. Liberating as many of them as possible, thus the reason for the portkey. The riots that had calmed nearly into Extinction had picked up in frequency now that the Wardens had been occupied with other things. The sickness, too had not helped for if it was running rampant in the Institutions, what wasn't it doing amongst the vulnerable behind their rickety walls?

Yes...

There was much unrest these days and because of it he had been dreadfully busy. So no, perhaps he hadn't wanted to listen to each of her ridiculous complaints. Especially when they consisted of Umbridge and a cancelled strawberry festival that she and the other hissing cats on her women's committee had been planning.
As if this all hadn't been enough, what had truly been pushing his already waspish attitude to the breaking point had been that his sleep schedule had been being interrupted. This fact and the return of the dark circles under his eyes had his little wife at last running away from him. Though of course she did this simply by no longer sharing a room with him and refusing to come into his for their 'talks'. Insisting he needed his rest and though he wanted to fight her, he had feared frightening her anymore. Her retreat from him was Something that both brought him peace at last but troubled him all the same. Her forced absences acted like a slowly rising flame under a cauldron, for now with anyone he had been easy to make bubble over in a rage. A vicious cycle that helped only to keep her further from him bringing more of his rage to the surface.

Without her guard dog and the civil unrest it kept her from going beyond the walls. Truly what forced her to stay within the tin box which was the summer home had been her husband. Not only for her safety but for the thought of her caught under a heavy downpour caused a ridiculous jealousy to rise within him. He knew the rains had not been like the magical torment she called upon the day of her miracles. Still... he would not chance it. Whether it was for the reason that he still harbored a fear that she would become soaked to the skin and washed over by a storm that seemed more magical than nature made. Virile in its encompassing of her small form.Leaving her bright eyed and wet, plump lips trembling as he himself would leave them while towering over her. Or if he truly worried for her safety, for THAT storm always brought up memories of her cold and lifeless in his arms, he had not known nor did he care! Unless the ugly house elf could accompany her she COULDN'T leave! Thankfully the snout nosed Kreacher full heartedly believed in this aggressive strain of sickness infecting her via a wet head. So the wretched house elf insured she stayed dried when ushering her about the Hive. Something her husband was secretly grateful for.

Though no accounts of the aggressive strain of the flu had been reported beyond the Walls, it left everyone in a sense of an unspoken quarantine within the Hive. Because of that, not even the spectacle wearing healer could check on her little waifs and it frightened her. For with a soft hand laid about her stomach the witch nearly drove herself insane at the thought of her black haired baby left to fend for himself amongst the sickness.

The poor little foundlings!

Of course the other witches of the Hive had been as equally bored as she. They longed for the weather to clear up, many beyond their fans within the crowded parlor rooms of their contemporaries. Or the countless restaurants they would conjugate within, threw Alejandra suspicious little glares. For the little foreigner had made it rain once couldn't she possibly just stop it now? Thankfully they all within her circle, maidens and crones alike adapted the higher hemlines. Which of course meant the lessers and other social circles has begun to adapt this trend for themselves as well. With the higher hems at least now all they had to worry about was their shoes and boots becoming filthy in the muck all about. A true simple fix for either their fans or house elves.

Patricia in particular had been crossed for they were to celebrate her youngest's birthday soon. and if this rain wouldn't let up within the next few days, the outside celebration would be forced to move indoors! she had already meticulously planned for every bit of sprig and gold- leafed decoration to a millimeter of its life with the help of Barnaby! The large bodied woman had been speaking in loud and exasperated tones about the weather hopefully clearing up. But Alejandra who sat nearest a window had not been listening, her dark eyes watching as the down pour threatened to flood the cobblestone roads outside. The cramps within her desolate womb began to radiate hotter. Evidently only irritating the older witch the more, for her large body quaked every gram of gold she had upon her.

Earlier that day Alejandra had received a plethora of terrible information and now it had felt as if her heart had been breaking behind it's tight laced corset. Thankfully the ensemble at her public birthday celebration had been the worst of her new wardrobe. Though not her style, the rest of the dresses had been contemporary. They were what she would have been wearing on the streets of her beloved homeland had her Uncle not won her in the hostile take over after the death of her mother. Had her eyes wanted to truly look about her own reflection while the elf readied her she would have seen her perfection. For of course Regulus Black had insured it and that had bothered her for she hadn't thanked him... For any of it. Without her world tilting views due to the alcohol she became vividly aware that her small birthday gathering in the backyard was all his doing. Yet a wall lay between the two still, a wall that she figured he had kept fortified due to her betrayal. It left the witch feeling awfully alone once more, for her husband would be gone most of the day and the heir even when capable of escorting her sent the house elf in his stead.
She knew she should have said something, for prior to today her husband always had supplied her with many different swirling concoctions. Some had been for her plants, both the ones in the Gardens and in the backyard. The rest had been fortifying bitter things for the children of her institution. Though most had been getting over the flu, the dark-eyed wizard insured he continued this immunity support. For it would be easy for one of the waifs to fall ill again and reinfect the entire mischief. The last had been a set of bottles she knew instantly... The tonics for old Mrs. Crawford.

Severus had never asked but one look at his wife's dull face had told him everything he needed to know. These things had never been for a person beyond the wall but for the old woman who had been his neighbor long since before he was even born. Severus had insured that regardless of his own weariness and lack of sleep that he brewed her all these things and of course she hadn't realized the sacrifice it had been for him.

Typical.

Last night had been hell, for many items came in under the suspicions of being potential Portkeys. And of course he had been the one to examine each and every bit of rubbish.

"You might as well have killed her."

He muttered not breaking eye contact with the little witch who sat at the large dining table.

Severus had promised both pure bloods that they would share in the first meal of the day, for now he was out of the house all night long. The basket that held all the various sized glass bottles shook violently as he set it upon the table, forcefully. Disregarding any of the pre-existing plates and tableware. Evidently, Regulus had forgotten the promise of sharing in this meal for it had just been his hard lipped wife. She made no motion to speak and if she had Severus had no patience in allowing her enough time to get her wits about her once more.

"Muggles and magical people on surface level may seem similar in their biology but even a child knows that many of our drafts are deadly to them. Congratulations wife, any ailments you may have been 'treating' have no doubt come back thricefold. I doubt you had her diluting any of it, so when the withdrawals hit she will wish she was dead. Assuming she will be lucid enough to wish anything at all!"

It hadn't been that Regulus had forgotten breakfast, it had just been that he now exclusively slept under the roof of The Queen once more.

And as such, he had gone to change, regardless of whether the little witch knew of the existence of the brothel. He had no desire and letting her nose smell any of the lingering scents of cigar smoke or women's perfume upon his person. Now freshly showered and changed, smelling of his own person he had rounded the corner to become part of this scene.

"Severus."

The grey eyed wizard spoke, imploringly, for her eyes had grown wide, unsure of what he said had been true.

Though of course the heir had known it to be so. The large old woman who was more flabby folds of flesh than person...
Oh no, poor Bowie! What had she done!? She could tell her husband had been in an active fight with himself and his thin lips. For he longed to say more, to accuse her of a plethora of things. Deep within her chest at the sight of his exhausted face she wondered for the slightest of moments if she was in bodily danger as well. This thought left her face even more blank than it had been before.

His wife was unthinking, a complete idiot, ungrateful...

He could feel his temper threatening to bubble over, knowing he would burn himself and his wife in the process.

Severus turned on his heels and the two pure bloods watched as his fluttering cape trailed behind him. No doubt to get what little bit of sleep and rest he could before he was called on once more. Though he hadn't spoken it, she knew he would brew no more for her.

Regulus who had intentions of sitting and partaking in the meal when it was the three of them, had been vividly aware of her bright eyes and heaving chest. Knew that regardless of what feelings she harbored for the old woman that her thoughts had been on that young man... Bowie. For her face held a tender look about it, like that of a child way over her head. He longed to sit and bring her comfort, if either with his words or his arms. Not just for the fact that she had been dear to him but also because his comportment called for it. Yet he had been keeping his distance from her, as he should have been doing this whole time. He had taken liberties with her from the moment he first laid eyes on her portrait. And he swore he would steal no more... Especially not after the scene within her bedroom on the night of her birthday.

Yes, her betrayal of him had been no more than what he deserved, still the heir had always been a sore loser. At least now it had been easier with his hurt pride to keep her at wands length. For when his desire got too great he could think on her lies. When his cool mind, as always, found excuses for her undisclosed truths. He would think of the way she looked at him while punching and kicking him. Regulus could not hurt her any further if he was not near her.

"Kreacher, I will have my breakfast in my room."

She truly had expected his consoling, yet all he did was acknowledge her presence with a simple bow before walking away.

The smile on his soft face completely lost on her in her state of shock. The heir knowing his house elf would dutifully chase after him, though the bunioned feet hesitated slightly.

Kreacher knew of her plans for today but he also knew by his Master's tone of voice that he would not be sparing him for her use. Had he been younger, less broken in by the bounds his ancestors held with the Black family he may have shown his inner turmoil like one of the lesser house elves would. Wringing his ears or dancing back and forth while his heart behind its rickety rib cage felt like it had been being torn in two. Instead servant ran after his beautiful Master's echoing footsteps.

Everything about her began to fade and fall away. The dining table seemed to be expanding, pushing her further away from both wizards who had just been upstairs. Here once more she had been reminded that she truly did not belong in their star system let alone their orbit. The smells of the delicious meal falling away into nothingness, for her eyes stung at the threatening tears, rendering her nose useless. Her hunger fading right along with her eyesight. The pounding of her heart, thunderous for in this moment that had been the only thing tethering her to this realm.

"Seño?"

She gasped loudly for just as the sound of her breaking heart had been driving Felipe mad, it had left her nearly as deaf.

Still the sweet high pitched voice broke through to her. Niño! It was Mr. Abbot's young house elf Niño! Bright powder blue eyes stared up at her sheepishly, little fingers twisting the flower sack he wore as a crude little gown.

In that odd way of communicating through unseen and unknown grapevines, Kreacher had called on the young fool and he had answered. Though the ancient house elf hated the younger elf he knew all about his loyalty to the foreign witch. Though being near her, allowed to trail after her skirts had become one of Kreacher's greatest secret joys. He could not disregard his master's command, regardless of how much it hurt his heart. For he had known that she intended on leaving the summer house today, had spoken on at great lengths as he brushed her hair the night before. Though his bitter face had not shown any change, it brought him joy for more often than not the little witch would just sit by the window watching the drops roll down the glass. Deep in her secret thoughts, sighing occasionally, sometimes in content. Other times it was done like a drowning woman, gasping for one final breath of air. These sounds echoed within his skull as if she had been right beside him and not several shut doors above him. Not even Mr. Lustig called on her, for he and her other once fellow councilman had been fighting nature. Already many plants had been completely drowned by the downpour, bringing an angry heat to all of their faces.

"If stupid Mrs. Snape had even as much as a single brain cell, she would have followed Fairfield's instructions!"

The men had vehemently muttered to one another as they sloshed through the mud and heavy downpour.

Certain plots within the Gardens had been constructed with different types of levels of drainage. And now it felt to all, Felix Included though he would never say as much , that they would loose it all to root rot!

Damn foolish unthinking Mrs. Snape to hell!

Kreacher hadn't known what had caused the sudden melancholy in her today for she had seemed fine last night when he put her to bed. The house elf may have screamed had she told him or at least fainted! He knew for he had been the one to help ready the little witch that she had started her cycle today. And though it had been simply a day late, the sight of the bright blood on her pure white nightgown had caused her to wipe furiously at tears that fell about her cheeks.

She hadn't wanted a baby, was frightened of being a mother. Convinced in the recesses of her mind that she would die- still- As the last two weeks had gone by she could not help but flirt with the idea of a newborn... Especially since it had been one of the only joyful things she could dwell on. For the dark rain clouds swallowed everything else that was warm. The witch's mind had been filled to the brim of a sweet, hopefully if the stars would allow, baby boy. One that she would present her husband just in time for his birthday next January. For he had spoken on an heir and what wizard wouldn't want a son? Destiny could not be so cruel to make it be that her firstborn, the one she would presented Severus Snape, the Supreme, her husband, be a girl child! She couldn't be that unlucky! Though not many memories of her joining with him on the night of her own birthday existed. It had seemed poetic to her to bring forth life Earthside near his own day of birth. And for his son to be conceived on her own birthday had been nothing short of serendipitously sweet! So perhaps no, she had no memories, no full memories of what had transpired after the gazebo. But she knew how he had treated her the day after, taking her to ride on the broom. Taking her and placing her on top of the kitchen counter...

Alejandra thought on this potential "secret gift" so often, that her hand would find its self resting about her lower stomach when deep in thought. Watching as how the raindrops slid down the windows. It had been an action She had seen pregnant women do in the past. Swearing perhaps that she may began to feel the swell as the cells multiply. The witch had been so certain of this outcome that this secret had been the main reason for all of her sudden desire of particular meals. Every irritation and sudden emotion that would overtake her these past weeks had been just simple symptoms of the- pregnancy. She had been so convinced on it! So much so that the witch debated on asking dearest Kreacher for advice on how to go about telling her husband. Originally She wanted to get confirmation from the spectacle wearing healer. Though she had been apprehensive, for the older gentleman did not care for her half blood husband. In that moment she had been convinced and frightened that instead of those reprimanding eyes staring at her from beyond their lenses that she would be stared at by her own father. Stone-faced, though he would try to stay as neutral as possible but the disappointment would be dripping off of him. Unwilling to accept that at last she had allowed herself to combine with a lesser... Regardless of what his own eyes told him.

No!

No, need to call the healer, especially not so soon.
Perhaps she should just keep quiet? And allow nature to take its course, Severus after all was so very observant.

Wasn't he?

True, he would never take notice of the finer details of her person, like when she changed her footwear, or Traded out her more ostentatious bonnets for simpler ones. Yet those dark eyes of his eventually would have to take notice of her thickening middle. Wouldn't he?

Oh!

Perhaps she could sit about his lap, taking his large hand and placing it about her lower stomach. Introducing father to his son!

Yet there was no baby...

She had failed.

Just as she had failed Mr. Bowie and the foundlings...
The stiff witch and her dead newborn...
She could do nothing right!

Yes, Kreacher who knew she had been bleeding and crying, thought them to be tears of joy for he had seen in the past, the little witch grow relieved at the Arrival of her cycle. So the house elf hadn't attributed that to her sadness. Instead believing that it had been for the nasty way her mongrel husband spoke to her. And now to add insult to injury his own Master seemingly ignored her.

Well Kreacher would help the foreign little witch! Foolish idiotic NeeNo could chaperone her today and the little witch would no doubt be silly enough to find joy in the fool.

Alejandra took hold of the young house elf, completely shocked by his unsuspecting heaviness. His body had been as thin and spindly as beloved Kreacher yet was just as sturdy if not more. The young house elf had never been held before, for of course, though his original mistress loved him dearly. She never even as much as laid a finger upon him. Her dark cat eyes showered him with hot tears upon his large head. The droplets sticking to his four singular hairs that made up his distinct cowlick .The little house elf could not help but smile at this nearness, although he had been raised to see it as wicked and obscene. For Niño knew if Kreacher were near, his elder would physically kick upon his head before throwing him out in the pouring rain by just his large ears. Even while knowing all of this, Niño's thin frame wiggled in delight at the feel of her plush fabrics about his flesh, warm arms hugging tightly about him.

"No llores, seño; Niño está aquí."

Yes, Alejandra had been deep in thought, when the following conversation had begun but had come back into this plane of existence at the following sentence:

"I say we go ahead and just cancel the strawberry festival. For whatever is the point of an indoor festival? Besides, the mudbloods had been the ones that had come up with that dreadful idea! Clearly doomed from the start."

Her dark eyes had been on Patricia's face in an instant, of course the large woman knew exactly what she had been doing.

Alejandra had helped get enough votes and funding for that event. After stealing the original idea from another witch. Though truth be told, she herself did not want to see it become an indoor happening still. She knew that the older woman had been lumping her in with the undesirables, Knowing that on the committee she had been left with the lowest of lows. The newly and vulgarly common rich women.

"Don't say that word."

Though it had been her husky voice saying this.

Alejandra swore she felt as if she had been possessed by the spirit of her husband. Normally where such slurs would efficiently and effortlessly slip forth from her own downturned lips. Here now it had felt as if recreating them would pain her.

"Well. what would you have me call all those filthy blooded witches!"

It hadn't been a question but a bold statement, she had been actively challenging the younger witch.

"Just because one has unfortunate beginnings, does not mean they can't rise to great heights."

Her full lips which had been painted in the softest of corals, moved slightly over clenched teeth.

Niño, who to avoid a scandal had remained hidden from all of the witches, watched from beyond the walls of the cafe. Biting on his nubby fingernails, the flavors from Master Abbott's breakfast still clinging tightly about the thick crescents.

"Qué error, qué error!"

His own dearly departed Mistress had a devil may care attitude that most American witches gained sometime after their 90 and 104th birthdays. But Seño Snape was young and still finding her footing here on theses strange lands. Kreacher had told Niño to watch after the little foreign witch. And he knew that meant to keep her safe not only in body but in reputation. His large powder blue eyes could see the literal heat coming from the top of her head for she was fuming.

"Hmph, you can not fake quality nor can it be achieved by merits alone. No matter what those dreaded equality pamphlets say."

The laughter rattled within the younger witch's head for in this moment in time she felt as empty as she had felt alone.

For a few in Patricia's group laughed nervously as well, frightened to get on the wrong side of the large woman.

"Blood and money is not everything."

"You're correct. It is everything."

Both witches had stood from their chairs simultaneously.

The ladies nearest them had shifted away frightened, though not one legs of theirs chairs as much as made a single sound. Somehow the dark-faced Mrs. Snape had managed to enrage Patricia and vice versa. Had they been men, had they been lessers, no doubts they would have been in physical battle. They're itching wand hands would have been enacting a plethora of hexes and spells onto the other. Still all they did was stand immobilized, fuming. Backs arching, tail hair bristling, claws slowly unsheathing. As they had longed to do their wands.

"If the sanctity of blood purity is not upheld and revered than we are left with nothing. I know you were young when your mother passed and your father went-silent- So perhaps they hadn't been able to instill these principles into your delicate mind."

Alejandra had stopped listening but the effects of Patricia's words were all the same.

It wasn't that she hadn't wanted to hear, in fact her delicate ear shells had strained to near levels of painfulness. But the rushing of the red cells within her veins as the once bubbling life giving liquid fell away left her feeling faint. Had it not been for that smug smile that tugged at the older witch's non existent lips, she may have fell into a pile of fabric. Dark cat eyes had seen this very smile on an equally alien and cold blooded face before. This was the very smile that Lord Voldemort's giant serpent Nagini would give her. Had Alejandra still possessed the ability of observation, she may have noticed the women's confused eyes looked about to one another as delicate brows flew up, getting lost in their sparce hairlines. How others came in knitting together. The fans all about which had been opened to protect themselves now had been being used to describe to others not within this little cafe, the heated words. By tonight's ball, the hive mind which was the women populus would know 4 different versions of this event.

Alejandra as she had been instructed by her uncle from the moment he took control of her, had told all these nosey witches the variation of her family history that had been deemed fit and appropriate for outsiders. She had been an orphan for all intense purposes, her mother passing in childbirth, which was true. Her father, an already older gentleman, dying shortly afterwards... That had been a partial lie for though he lived and breathed, his soul was elsewhere. Her family name she had given to them was also a little lie... It had been her mother's second family name that she had muttered before all these witches at Grandmother Clarke's tea months ago. Yet here stood Patricia Fawley speaking full truths-not curated lies that have been fed to all. Of course, a handful of people within The Hive knew her truths. But not one of them was a flapping gummed woman!

Several times full lips parted on attempts to speak and each time she faulted. Only helping the grin about the older witch's face to grow wider. To the cat eyed witch it felt as if her jaw would unhinge, she intended to swallow her whole.

"As you can imagine my extended family is not fond of my marriage and as such-"

"As such you decided to lied to us. Your new fellow country women."

"No, not a lie. A strategic choice of surnames, unlike your kind I have multiple names, for my country values both the mother's and father's lineages, equally. And as to not confuse you, I solely picked one to introduce myself as. Allowing my kin from my father's side the ability to distance themselves from me, if they felt so strongly. And as for my father, well if the stars above were truly merciful, he would be better dead than how he is now. "

Patricia's glowing face dulled at both the explanation and the foreign little bitch's choice of words.

Not only could the older woman see from her peripheral that some about gave the little witch sympathizing looks which irritated her but what had set her on fire was the following:

'Your kind.'

As if she and the rest of the witches had been the odd ones!?

She also knew the surname business to be true for her own son married to a Spanish witch had encountered this queer problem upon their marriage. Patricia longed to say more, to ask the cat eyed witch if she had always had an affinity to terroristic wizards but could not! At least not yet, for she had not been able to tell any of her fellow followers about the brat's once betrothed cousin. Her idiotic daughter in law hadn't been able to secure a photo of him before his reign of terror. Also much to her growing irritation the newspapers refused to print photos of him in fears they would help the young man gain more traction. As if he needed any, as if his goal of liberating the long since plundered and ravaged country of Mexico from her foreign Invaders needed help. Outside of that to speak ill of her hooked nosed bastard husband could be seen as an active critique of their Dark Lord himself. For the half blooded mongrel acted out on their ruler's orders. Still within her mind Patricia continued her horrible assault of the little witch's husband.

None of the witches at the tables nor the two standing noticed the entrance of the Supreme but the waiters had. For they debated trying to show him to an open table, still he moved past them, unseeing. This cafe though it had been an unwritten rule, exclusively only ever had women clients. For the decor had been overtly satirically feminine, to the point of vulgarity. The high ceiling, enchanted with pink cumulus clouds that would periodically rain down glittering flower petals. Ones that would disappear before reaching and making a mess of the tables and the women down below. The sugary pastries minuscule in size but it had all been part of the delicate atmosphere. Along with bubbling floral drinks which had been served on frilly doilies. Here with Abbot's house elf hiding behind his black cloak, one that had been damp to the touch as if he had been pulled randomly to run in the rain. Severus Snape had been like darkness, personified, itself.

Patricia's internalized rant stopped instantly at the sight of the very man she spoke so nastily about. Her chest, which had been heaving in anger continued to do so but now in terror. Gold chains rattling, no doubt in a similar fashion as her teeth within her jowled mouth would began to. Alejandra who's back was towards her husband noted at once how all seemed immobilized. Fans that had been waving frantically as to hide fast moving lips, were practically laid upon the tables. Lest they be seen as a uncompliant and armed, regardless of the fact that their wands had been behind the most precious of lace trim. Turning quickly Alejandra came face to face with her husband, so near that her flounces brushed about him. She would have gasped had she possessed any more oxygen within her lungs. It seemed as if she had been working with only the bare minimum. Had felt as if her heartbeat had slowed her breathing, non existent. The warmth from her face drained but the bright look of fight within her eyes shown with the intensity of the summer sun.

"Wife. You are being summoned by our Dark Lord."

The look about his wife's face had been one that he knew all too well.

For it was a odd mixture of genuine fear and that of a ridiculous childish one. It had been the same look his students would give him while being found disregarding the rules. Waiting for the dreaded Professor Snape to hand out detentions. The irritation with his wife would have been greater if not for the fact that the entire flock of frilly pure blood witches about held the exact same look!

They left the cafe quietly without looking at one another, it hadn't been till they apparated that she realized that Niño was the one who took them back. Apparition though she could not prove it, she thought was a strictly house elf creation. For when led by a wizard... A human. It was one of the most horrible feelings in the world. Squeezed and turned into literal cells and forced into ridiculously winding, tubes and tunnels. But when led by a house elf, they had done it so effortlessly and she was left feeling in her physical whole state that her only complaint could be that she had felt slightly dizzy on arrival.

But why ever was Niño leading them if she was being summoned by their Dark Lord?

Immediately when her feet came into contact with the floors of the foyer within the summer home, she knew it had been a lie.

"Would you like to explain why I have random creatures pulling me away from-"

The color about her face had returned and the fear had lessened, still her eyes beyond their lashes had been spilling tears. The shrill little voice of the young house elf interrupting him:

"Pardon but Niño is Niño not Kreacher! Niño told you Master Snape, Seño Snape was being treated most horribly by-"

"That-that monstrous..."

Alejandra's words like her body had begun to tremble, though he couldn't see her face he figured this was due to the onslaught of tears. Severus' own dark eyes already facing skyward, in the starting position to roll in irritation. Yet she exploded, his orbs hadn't even fallen into their second position yet. Either of these outbursts would have left him wided mouthed and speechless but paired together he had been left dumbfounded. Severus and the young house elf stumbled at her sudden unseen shove, had he been less steady on his feet he may have lost his footing as the house elf had. Unlike Regulus who had narrowly escaped a haphazard blast, he himself had felt her magic in it's corporeal form. But this has not been it, she had been lashing out like a child does, like he himself had done as a boy countless times when under duress before he had been given a wand to channel it it through. Severus would have righted himself and slapped her, for such outbursts had only ever been "acceptable" by young children and even then they would earn a harsh reprimanding. Though he hadn't been unable to do anything for her lips begun their own fury as well.

"-Bitch! Pinche maldita bruja! How dare she. Trying to speak to me-ME about principles! While her kind was defecating on themselves and swishing it away. Covering themselves with sweet waters to mask their stench. My people had been bathing daily and somehow I am the lesser? Her kind erases all traces of their mothers for they are somehow lesser regardless of their own power and lineage. And I am the liar? Me- Alejandra Catalina Nicté Zugasti Esparza a liar!? Her house elf is free, did you know that, though she swears Coco has been with their family for centuries! Her youngest child maybe her husband's but her grown daughter is a bastard and everyone knows it. Her family may be on that ridiculous list but her husband's surname and the same stack of gold galleons has been the only things keeping them afloat this past year!"

The wizard had never heard her raise her voice in anger in such a way, for even while she punched about him and Regulus it had the undertones of pain.

Here there was no pain coloring her words with their heavy accent just rage. The house elf who had lifted himself from the floor, danced about on his feet as if he stood on burning coals. Mumbling to her in Spanish in attempts to calm her clearly frightened that she would begin hitting upon him. Severus had known of his little wife's prejudices against the "filthy blooded" but as she went on about herself and THEM he had realized that her prejudices went further than genealogy. He never had thought he would be lumped together with the others but that was exactly what she was doing. It was she against THEIR kind. There was no bloodlines or wealth or sheer Magical prowess that could redeem any of them in her eyes .For the first time since having the terrible secret disclosed, Severus had been happy she could not give him children. For how could he ever willingly allow a baby of his, a "dirty blooded pale faced monster" grow in such a hostile person like she? This and other colorful observations had been muttered in what he imagined was both of her languages and he had no desire to hear anymore:

"Are you done. Or do you require an audience for this ill thought outburst as well?"

Prior to the severity of her words cascading down on him he found her to be amusing in her sudden display of her wrath.

She had not been just the walking, talking porcelain doll. He of course had figured that such a hot temper must exist within her for he had obviously seen the steam escaping past the seams of her mask before today. Still regardless of how almost comical he found her he could not excuse her words... No not her words, or her beliefs.

"You don't understand, she had been speaking down to me- ME!"

Had he been less exhausted, or not pulled away suddenly by a frightened little house elf.

Which had his heart race as the foolish thing spoken over and over again in her language he may have been more patient. Yet still after all he was nothing but a "cold blooded colonizing plague" why shouldn't he act as such?

"You are nothing!"

Alejandra who had been pacing about like a caged animal at last stopped her lips which had been moving as quickly as the wings of a snidget.

"They see myself as nothing and you as my wife are madam nothingness. Regardless of whatever you or I do or can accomplish . You are a foreigner and as such less in their eyes. Most of those frilly bitches think of you as such, the only difference is that the heifer Patricia told it to your face."

"We are not nothing-"

"Of course we are not but this is THEIR world not ours, not yours- not anymore. No matter how hard you try to cling to it. The faster you get that through that thick skull of yours, the easier it should be for you to control that temper."

His traveling cloak which was still wet from the fat rain drops billowed about him as he left her all alone in the foyer.

Her still immobilized body now shook with tears and not her blinding rage. He possessed neither the time nor energy to comfort her, though Severus knew he had hurt her. For he swore he could hear her heart shatter as he opened the thick front doors of the summer house with a wave of his wand. He had missed hearing the encompassing beat within his head and often imagined it while around her. It helped him ignore her legitimate words while she fussed and whined. Here as his booted feet took him further and further from the summer house he swore he could hear the high pitch crack of her delicate heart on repeat.

Would he never stop hurting her?

The little voice within thankfully hadn't spoken up much these past few weeks but he could still feel it's disappointment with him. Yet now it chose to speak, luckily for him due to the heavy downpour the streets had been empty.

'You could spare a few minutes...Go back and sit with her, she doesn't ask for much-'

"Doesn't she?! She asks for the world truly deserves it and I can't even-"

He hadn't meant to speak so truthfully and he swore he could all but see the little voice's eyes blink in shock as the voice cut him off.

Its usually bored tone shrill with its overwhelming incredulity :

'Is that why- you don't try? Because you feel as if she deserves more than you could ever give her? Don't you see? You're all she wants!'

Though he hadn't believed the little voice he did stop his death march, Severus would be soaked to the bone but in this moment he could not be bothered to either feel or think on that.

Regulus hadn't needed Kreacher by his side all of today, yet he had come to realize that he missed him and as such wanted his mainstay near. For he had to actively fight with his own desire to be here. Peculiar how this place had never felt like home until... well-until recently. Still he had to stay away, not just for his own sake but that of the little witch. The heir hadn't been aware that she had no memories of the happening. For he had not had the chance to speak to Sev about any of it. And it felt as if he would never get the chance to do as such. With his stress about the unauthorized portkey which had currently been drowning him. The heir had tried to do his own digging to see if it belonged to someone amongst their own ranks. For hadn't he himself had a few laying about? Perhaps they meant to dispose of it and forgot to disenchant it? It also could have been something as simple as they forgot what it looked like and a servant tossed it into the literal rubbish. Still because of it he hadn't been able to as much as bring her birthday night up in passing with even a knowing look or a slight rueful grin. Even if he could it would leave the heir open to an interrogation done by the older wizard if Sev had chosen to do as such. How could he possibly willingly acknowledge the fact that his wife had caused such a rise within him? That those unthought thoughts brought on by her whimpers and moans the night of Severus homecoming months ago, while he Regulus laid at the foot of their bed within his chase lounge unbeknownst to them Had in fact had been able to dig into the softness of his mind? That with each questionable interaction with her it had been helping nourish them. Watering them, feeding them...

He couldn't, so wouldn't.

It had been simple enough to allow his hurt feelings and pride take the reigns. The heir hadn't been cruel, in fact when necessary he would speak to her. Now he simply just no longer sought her out, though he had his house elf tell him about all of her daily happenings, in detail. Everything from what she ate , to who she spoke to and about what. Not even the color of her slippers was allowed to be missed by the large bloodshot eyes . This was done so Regulus could make believe that he still held such a large place in her life. As if instead he stood beside her and not half way across the Hive in countless smoking lounges. Hiding his melancholy behind thick clouds of smoke and chewing the fat with the other men about.

Here as he sat within his usually unused office, the hunched back servant helping him seal and organize the different letters that needed to be sent off immediately. Regulus if he were like his contemporaries and not been so in tune to the house elf, his gray eyes would have missed completely the way his giant ears with their sprigs of white hair twitched. Someone had arrived but who? Truth be told the heir hadn't expected her to leave but figured she had gotten some of her female friends with their house elves and servants to come and collect her. Without lifting either eyes or quill from the parchment he waited, it was either Sev or...

"Well?"

The house elf was very aware of the harsh tone of his Master's question yet he proceeded to just bite upon his chapped bottom lip.

One moment she had been all alone, with only querido Niño who offered her countless ridiculous unheard things. Then the next she had been being stared down at by Regulus, he had stood in the exact spot she had weeks ago when her own dark eyes sparkled down at her husband.

It was as if he had truly looked down at her face for the first time in weeks. In reality it had been for the fact that she had been so miserable these last few hours. No baby within her, the old muggle woman dying a most horrible death because of her. The women at the cafe knowing about her lies and now her husband's words on top of it all.

Oh, the darling little one!

His feet would not have been fast enough so with a loud crack he had appeared right in front of her, arms open wide and had she been less distraught, Alejandra would have never ran into his arms. Yet there she was, wet cheek against his pounding chest. Regulus' warmth and arms encircling her as they always had. With the promise of righting all the wrongs within her world. The witch had had vague memories of her parents, but this type of security is what she imagined the love of very much living parents must feel like. Without her needing to communicate a single word, she knew deep down that it would all be well.

Regulus' chin rested about the top of her head, his sure feet swaying her in that precious tempo that was an instant barrier for any furthered tears from falling. He of course noted Abbot's house elf and vaguely wondered why on earth he was here, still he allowed his fingers to pet about her hair. Where normally many rings would be slid about his digits, due to his mood had been nude. Not even the most precious of jewels and thick metals could fill the absence he felt within his heart.

Niño heard as the front door opened as had Kreacher who stood at the top of the flight of stairs. And both house elves had grown frightened. But neither pure blood had, for as Severus noted the night of her birthday, when those two spoke to one another. When those two held one another, nothing and no one else existed but them.

"Another instance she's running into your arms, Reggie?"

Severus voice had been harshly biting, the jealousy that sliced at him was not a childish one but that of a man.

A man who's little bride was nuzzled against his chest. The heir felt the little witch within his arms tense and practically pull away from him, but his arms had been firmly around her. The familiar bubbling that normally occurred when being forced to hear her apologize raging within him, threatening to wash over him whole. He did nothing wrong! And she most certainly had not, so his gray eyes stared unblinking at the older wizard over the head of his wife. Regulus had been so unbothered by his appearance not even the tempo of his swaying of her faltered. His chin still firmly resting on top of her head as if he intended on being forced to let her go.

Both house elves in that moment feared for the little witch for if both men pulled out their wands she would no doubt be hit. For regardless of how skilled either of the wizards were she was dead center in their crosshairs.

"Dry your tears little one, your husband would like a word with you."

Regulus' smile had been a true one, the first one in all of these weeks.

And though she had been frightened due to the change of atmosphere about her, she could not help but warm. Her little hand taking hold of the handkerchief he produced for her to wipe her tears away with. For no longer could the front of his robes do it for him.

Regulus had thought that she would be mortified, especially after the way she acted towards him while she lay about her bed. Dark cat eyes with their thick black lashes as she teased him in French with the same proclamation he made her mutter while in front of the window. But she had not been that prowling minx, her plump quaking body within his arms just right now proved it. She was as she always had been, the darling rose bud girl. As the heir walked back up the stairs for he intended on leaving with her as soon as Severus left once more. He could hear his friend's hushed tones of apology and confession towards the little witch who dabbed at her eyes with HIS handkerchief.

Severus found it oddly easy to go through the unthinking motions of apologizing, for now he held her in his own arms. Dreadfully aware of how every bit of flounce and lace had smelled of Regulus. His own dark eyes watched as the heir descended back up the stairs. He had meant for his words to have more meaning yet here they were generic statements, which thankfully for him his wife took up and clung to all the same. He wanted to forbid her from leaving the summer house but could practically hear the smug tone within the heir's thought.

'I will be taking her to Grimmauld place with me. Of course, you harbor no objections do you Severus?'

That reached and nearly echoed on the shores of his mind but nothing else had for Regulus was as always fortified strongly behind his walls.

As his thin lips moved in their apology to his wife, Severus knew he ran the risk of hearing the shattering of her delicate heart once more. Had he only listened to the irritating little voice and came back faster it would have been he himself she had clung onto like that and not the heir.