sh_mods (sh_mods) wrote in slash_heaven, @ 2006-08-10 01:05:00 |
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Original poster: rakina
I've just got to post this here, even though there's no smut! Happy Birthday, alisanne!
Title: Alysanne
Author: Rakina
Summary: Harry finds something from the past; will it affect his relationship with Severus?
Rating: G. Complete, 2940 words.
Pairings: HP/SS established relationship
Beta: hel_bee
Author Notes: Written as a birthday fic for the highly-recommended alisanne, 10 August 2006.
Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, its characters and settings are the copyrighted works of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., her publishing companies and affiliates. No profit was made from the writing of this story.
By Rakina
"It's rather sad, isn't it?" Harry remarked as they went through the front door of Spinner's End into the small sitting room for the last time.
"Yes, it is," Severus admitted, and Harry was a little startled to hear him say it. "Even though I thought I wouldn't feel it, I will admit it's a bit like saying 'goodbye', finally. The memories were mostly unpleasant, but they were mine. This place was where I originated, and it is sad in a way to be leaving."
"You don't have to sell up," Harry reminded him. "You can come and live with me and keep this place on..."
Severus shook his head firmly. He wanted Harry to know that he was serious about them living together, that he wasn't going to run back to his old home at the first sign of difficulty now they had bonded.
Three hours later they'd collected and shrunk the final items into manageable packets. They'd spent over a week getting everything sorted out – what was good to keep, what was destined for the bin – and today it was just a matter of collecting the last items.
Severus stood in the centre of the little room, ready to Apparate to Godric’s Hollow. Harry was still somewhere upstairs. “Harry!” he called, “I’m ready.”
There was the noise of footsteps echoing hollowly on the carpetless stairs and Harry came back into the room. He was carrying a book, flipping through it as he walked.
“I thought we’d got all the books boxed up,” Severus said.
“Yeah… we had. I found this tucked behind that old bookcase in the bigger bedroom. I moved it because I thought I’d dropped something behind it, and this was hidden or had dropped down behind. It’s an old diary.”
Severus looked more interested at this. “I thought I’d got all Mum’s diaries.”
“Unless your mum was over 200 years old, this isn’t hers,” Harry quipped. “It’s dated 1712.”
Severus eyebrows shot up and he extended his hand for the diary, but Harry shook his head and held it against his chest. “We can look at it at Godric’s Hollow. If you start reading now, we won’t get back until night time.”
Severus had the honesty to look abashed, then held his arms open for Harry so they could Apparate together, back to their home.
Once home, and comfortable, Severus and Harry sat closely on the sofa, heads bowed over the old diary, and began to read:
Extracts from The diary of Alys Anne Prince.
An entry for 1712:
My father bought me this nice leather-bound notebook; he said I should write a diary, that it was ‘a good discipline for the mind and a source of interest for those who might follow’. It is odd to think that I might have family members in the future who would want to read about me.
I was born in 1702. I was named with an old family name – Alys. There have been many excellent witches called Alys, both with the name of Prince and other surnames. And I was called Anne as well, for the new queen of England who came to the throne in my birth-year. Alys Anne, it sounds well together, and that is what my family call me, as if it is just one word – Alysanne.
I can’t see me ever being married and having descendants who will read this, and that makes me sad. I’d like someone to know my story. You see, my family are well-respected in the Wizarding world, and all my brothers and sisters went to school at Hogwarts, so they’re all proper witches and wizards. Proper Princes.
But I never got to go to Hogwarts, and the only schooling I had was with my parents, for I’m not fit to go to a school of Witchcraft. I am a squib.
I’m the first squib in the Prince family for more than a hundred years. My father won’t tell me the name of the last one, or even if it was a boy or a girl. Nobody talks about squibs, except as mistakes, as shameful secrets Wizarding families don’t like to admit to. But we know they all have them from time to time.
No, the best thing to do with a squib in the family is to forget them. Talk about them as little as possible. Send them to Muggle schools if you want to, or get them a job with Muggles. But girls are easily hidden. A squib daughter can be sent to help the house elves – that’s the easy way out.
So I don’t have many friends that aren’t elves. Except my sisters, who are – thank Merlin – kind to me. After all, my family didn’t find out for sure that I was a squib until I was nine years old. Then, they visited Hogwarts for my sister’s prize-giving and asked to see the Birth Book while they were there. I was the youngest child and they naturally assumed my name would be in it. They only asked out of curiosity, because I had accompanied them to see Eliza’s presentation and they wanted to make me feel part of the day, I suppose. But my name wasn’t there.
We came home and my parents told the rest of the family after dinner that evening. Like all my siblings I’d been taught to read and write at home by my parents. Now I would stay here, while the others found their way in the world.
Entries for 1716:
As I get older, it’s becoming obvious that it isn’t just Hogwarts I’ll miss out on. If I want a normal life – a married life – I’ll have to go into the Muggle world, for no wizard would want to risk marrying a squib and having non-magical children. But I don’t know much about the Muggle world, and what little I have heard is scary.
Most Muggle women can’t read, they have no proper potions and their lives are hard and short. I do not want to live like that, so I must accept that I’ll be childless. If a wizard wants to bed me, it won’t be in an honourable way, and he’ll make sure I don’t have a child.
I don’t know what to do, if I’m honest. I can be honest in here because nobody else gets to see my diary. They allow me my own space, my own little bedroom on the top floor where I can be at peace and keep my few treasures.
You see, I’m really getting… well, I don’t know quite how to say it. But I keep thinking about a man, a husband. At night I have dreams, and not only when I’m asleep. I lie in my bed and try to sleep but I keep thinking about… Oh, I wish I could have someone to hold me, to put their strong arms around me, like my sister Eliza is getting. She’s marrying her betrothed, Ezekiel, next month. She’s only four years older than me, but she’s going to have her own house and a nice husband, and she’ll know everything about being a woman and I never will.
“There’s a gap here,” Harry commented. He tried to turn to the next page, but it was stuck to the one underneath; he worried at it with his fingernail, trying to part the pages.
“Leave it alone!” Severus snapped, batting Harry’s hand away. “The pages look blank anyway, there’s no need to pull them to shreds to get them apart. Something must have soaked them.”
Harry looked a little wounded, but supposed Severus had a point, as usual. He stopped trying to separate the next two pages and turned to the next free one. It, too, was plain, except for having some old water-stains and a crinkly appearance. “I think she was crying, a lot,” he concluded.
“Hmm.” Severus was unwilling to comment, for once. Harry could just hear him thinking that Harry was too romantic for his own good, he’d said it aloud often enough. But Harry was still pretty sure Alysanne had been crying.
“I never thought about squibs much before, Severus,” Harry mused, trying to smooth out the crinkly, tear-affected pages. “The only squibs I know are Filch and Mrs Figg, and they just seemed a bit like comic characters, if you know what I mean.”
“There are more squibs in the Wizarding world now more than ever. It is part of the reason there was so much discussion about Pureblood families, and ‘diluting’ magical blood with Muggle genes. All foolish, of course. Magic is magic wherever it’s found. But in Alysanne’s time, being a squib was a tragedy for the person involved, and a shame for the family. It was rather like having a disabled child, at that time they were hidden away.”
“I just want to cuddle her,” Harry said, and Severus slipped his arm around his husband’s shoulders and squeezed. Really, Harry was too soft-hearted for his own good at times.
(the diary continues)
Although I envy Eliza getting married and having her own home, I don’t envy her Ezekiel. Well, he’s all right, I suppose. But he’s a bit of a ninny. He can’t even cast a decent Silencing Spell. I heard Dickon (my brother) complaining about it. Eliza is much stronger than him. As long as someone is strong in a household I suppose that’s all right, but I’d like a husband to dominate me, be stronger, and fiercer, and protective…
An entry for 1718:
Mother lets me help with the housekeeping more and more now. She is glad to have an older daughter at home to help, though I know she feels sorry for me. I think she’s sorry more than ashamed about me. I didn’t realise that when I first learned I was a squib, I just thought everyone would hate me.
Father is not so pleased. He rarely talks to me, and I know he doesn’t speak of me outside the family.
My brothers, Severus, Richard (Dickon) and Cornelius are all kind to me. I’m much younger and they treat me like the little sister still, even though I’m a grown woman now that I’m 16. If I was a witch, I’d probably be being courted. I miss that, it’s so romantic to have a wizard bring you gifts and speak all formally to you and your parents, and say he’ll die for the chance to love you…
I know I’ll never get that, and I’ve got used to it now. It used to make me cry, thinking about it.
I must go and help mother store the apples for winter. It’s hard work taking them all into the cool storeroom and laying them out so they don’t taint, and the house elves never seem to get it right.
An entry for 1719:
I know I’m being silly. Just foolishness, that’s all it is.
Daniel Potter is a wonderful, young wizard. He’s a million times more impressive than Ezekiel, however much Eliza says he’s more impressive than I give him credit for (I don’t think she’s speaking of his spell-casting).
Daniel comes regularly to transact business with Father. He is buying a parcel of land from us; it would fit into his estate better than our own, it is a distance from our house and not convenient as pasture for our animals. There seem to be an awful lot of queries in the documents, because today Daniel came for the third time this week.
He smiles at me. I know it means nothing. “Good day, Miss Alysanne,” he says, as nice as you like.
The Potters are as noble a Wizarding family as the Princes. If only I were not a squib, I think he would speak to Father about me. His eyes are so kind, and yet they’re heated when he looks at me. I know what that means.
I would love to run off with him. If he asked me to be his mistress, would I do that?
Oh, the shame: a squib and a whore! I don’t think I could live that way and survive, but if it meant being with Daniel Potter it would be a temptation. I haven’t felt so upset and jittery since I learned of my lack of magic.
(Alysanne does not write in her journal for a couple of months).
“There’s a gap here. I hope she’s all right…”
“You’re such a hopeless romantic, Harry.”
(the diary continues)
Daniel hasn’t visited for two months. I was a fool. I knew I was being a fool, and I don’t think I dare even write down what I was wishing for, it was that stupid.
I can admit it now – I wanted him to want me, even though I’m a squib. He’s an admired young wizard, head of a famous Wizarding family. He’s good-looking, powerful, and wealthy. So he could have his choice of witches.
But he looked at me with that light in his eyes, the same as I see between Eliza and Ezekiel. I knew what it meant, but of course if he mentioned me to Father he soon found out about my problem, about my family’s secret shame.
I’m going to start writing again. It upset me for a while, but I’m determined to go on as I was doing. I must accept my life as it is. It could be worse – I could be a Muggle. Being a squib isn’t as bad as that. I won’t let my family think I’m ungrateful that they haven’t sent me away.
Extract for 1720:
It’s happened!
I can’t believe it!!! I’m so happy I hardly know how to write, this entry is all squiggly.
Daniel came today, and he brought a parchment, and he looked all serious and asked to speak to Father privately, and they went and shut themselves up in Father’s study.
When they came out, Daniel smiled and looked at me with that look, and my stomach turned right over – I felt it! Father called me into his study and I went. I was so nervous I could hardly walk!
“Alys Anne,” he said, (he always split my name into two words), “I confess myself amazed about this, but young Mr Potter has offered me a contract for your hand.”
I just stared at him like he was speaking Parseltongue!
“It is a fair offer. Indeed, given your… condition… it is an amazingly generous one. What do you think of Mr Potter?”
My mouth was gaping open like the village idiot’s! Father got tired waiting for my answer. “Tell me, girl, what do you think? Will you marry Potter?”
I pulled myself together. I didn’t want to miss this chance! “Yes, oh, yes, Father. I’d love to. Are you sure there’s no mistake?”
“That was my very thought on hearing the proposal, daughter. But no, there is no mistake. This contract is signed, witnessed and drawn up by a lawyer in Diagon Alley. Potter wants your signature, and mine, and then you can be wed. It will be a quiet ceremony here, of course.”
Of course. We can hardly invite the neighbours, and Daniel will not want to flaunt me, even if I am to be his wife. I suppose I’ll stay at his house while he socialises, but I don’t care about that. I’ll have a husband! One day I may have children, Merlin willing. Oh, I will pray to the gods every day that they may be as magical as their father!
(The diary ends, rather suddenly, here.)
“Sev, you know what this means?” Harry said excitedly.
“I do not, and please refrain from shortening my rather impressive name.”
“Oh, never mind that,” Harry said, exasperatedly. Sometimes Severus was so pompous and there were times Harry couldn’t be arsed to use English formally. “Don’t you realise? Your family and my family are linked! Definitively. We’ve got it in black and white.”
“Well, cream and brown, anyway,” Severus said, stroking a long, yellow finger over the aged diary. “Most Wizarding families are joined, Harry.”
“Yes, but now we know for sure. I hope Alysanne had a great life with Daniel…”
“I think she must have. He must have been as off-putting as you are, you benighted distraction, for she never wrote in her diary after this. I can imagine she had her hands full marrying a Potter. Not to mention the children.”
“Do you think they had children then?”
“I would think so. After all, she says he’s the head of the Potter family, and that family still survives,” Severus looked pointedly at Harry. “I think she had children, and some, if not all, were wizards. The Potters remained powerful, so Alysanne’s squib blood didn’t have a long term effect. As I said, there has been a trend towards more squibs being born. Alysanne sounds quite a sensible young lady… considering she’s female, but of course she was a Prince.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “I think it’s lovely, finding out we’re joined in more ways than we knew.”
Severus merely nodded and gave in to the tender kiss Harry was giving him. His husband was the softest creature in many ways, but that disarmed Severus more than fierceness ever could.
Spinner’s End was in his childhood, and now he’d finally left it. Just as Alysanne had been able to leave her squib beginnings behind and make a marriage within the Wizarding world, Severus would do the same with Harry. What was past was past. Their future was to be lived, and Severus intended to enjoy it without looking back.
FIN