Joss owns the Buffyverse, JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter Universe.Mommy Dearest
“Damn it!” Lucius kicked the body of the once beautiful girl. “Damn!” Kick. “Damn!” Kick. “Dammit all to bloody hell!” Kick, kick, kick.
Anastasia Evans, mercifully, was dead. Had been dead for the last 30 minutes. Her death was what prompted Lucius’ outburst.
“Stupid muggle-loving bint!” Another kick. He shoved his hands in his pale hair, pulled at it a bit and tried to think of something, anything at all to make sure he wasn’t the next body being kicked around the floor.
“Well, well, we have been naughty, haven’t we, Malfoy?”
Lucius turned around. “Severus. What are you doing here?”
“I heard the commotion and decided to see what you were up to. After all, you were supposed to guarding the Dark Lord’s concubine. Whatever did you do, Lucius?”
Lucius knew you couldn’t really trust anyone. Paranoia ran rampant through the Death Eaters and with good reason. You never knew who had the Dark Lord’s ear at any given moment. Or what they would say and do to curry favor. But he and Severus went way back, were almost in the way of being friends. And he needed help. He glanced down at the body. A lot of help. “Severus. It was an accident…she just…died.”
Snape raised an eyebrow. “With no help?”
“She sought to escape. I only meant to detain her.”
The dark-haired Death Eater bent over the body, noted the ripped clothes, scorched skin, the bruises around her neck. “Yes, I can see how torturing the woman and using her for target practice would detain her.”
Lucius tried another approach. “She threw herself at me. I’m only a man, Severus. What was I to do?”
“You were not supposed to damage the woman the Dark Lord has chosen to be the mother of his child! You will beg for death before he is done with you, Malfoy.”
Lucius brushed away the tears that were now falling. “You have to help me, Severus. You have to help me fix this.”
Snape snorted. “Help you fix this? Malfoy, she’s dead. You tortured her and killed her. For fun. There is no fixing
this. Are you insane?” He shook his head. “What am I saying? You killed the Dark Lord’s bride, of course you’re insane.”
He couldn’t help Lucius, but he could move up in the ranks by being the one to capture him and report his crimes. He reached for his wand in what he hoped was a casual way.
Lucius was thinking along the same lines. He would simply modify Snape’s memory and say that he, Severus, had killed the girl. Except…the Dark Lord was known for killing the messenger. Torturing the messenger. He drew his wand and spun, pointing at Severus in the same motion, yelling Stupefy!
, just as Severus was pulling his own wand.
Snape fell to the floor before he even had a chance to utter a single word. Lucius paced the room, back and forth, back and forth. Panic was truly beginning to set it when the solution came to him. So simple. He magicked the door close and locked, then apparated home for a few things he would need.
He was back in minutes. Time was growing short and he had to hurry. Everything had to be done before the Dark Lord began the ceremony.
He fixed Anastasia’s torn clothes and then stripped them from her body, laying them aside for now. He didn’t bother with pleasantries, just ripped the hair out of her head and put it in the flask he’d gotten from home.
A total body bind spell and a silencing charm on Snape before waking him up. He shoved the Polyjuice down his throat, forced him to swallow. He stripped Snape, dressed him in Anastasia’s clothes. He could hear them in the all, the Death Eaters who were to be part of the ceremony, getting closer by the minute. He had to hurry now. He transfigured Anastasia’s body into a cot and shoved it in the corner.
Snape glared at him, opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. And none would. No one was better at charms than Lucius Malfoy.
The door opened, the Death Eaters came in. “Malfoy, the Dark Lord wishes you to join the ceremony.”
Lucius bowed deeply. “It will be my honor.”
It had been easy to get on the guard detail. The Dark Lord was happy, things were going well. The ceremony went well, the pregnancy was progressing nicely. For this Lucius was profoundly grateful because he hadn’t been at all sure that Snape would even get
pregnant. He just kept slipping him the Polyjuice like clockwork and so far everything was going according to plan.
It was getting harder and harder to slip Snape the potion. How the bloody hell long did it take to have a sodding baby, anyway? Surely it couldn’t take hours? The Dark Lord was growing bored and restless with the process. He just wanted the result.
He turned in a swirl of his cape. “Let me know when the child arrives.”
Snape pushed when the MediWitch told him to push.
“There, there, dear. Come on now, sweets, one big push.”
“I AM pushing you sodding twat.” His voice came out a lot deeper than the screams he was producing earlier.
“Well!” The MediWitch knew that in the throes of labor and delivery women could get a testy but that was uncalled for. And that voice…as if she were possessed.
Lucius felt the panic setting in. The potion was clearly wearing off and the damn witch wouldn’t let him near Snape. He paced. Back and forth. To and fro. Finally, he heard a grunting scream and a slap, the crying of a newborn. He turned to find the MediWitch holding the baby, a glance told him it was a girl, and staring at the bed, where Snape’s…stuff was starting to grow back as the potion wore off completely. He snatched the baby from the witch and hit her with a memory charm and stunning spell before she could finish her started “What the bloody hell….”.
Snape rolled off the bed just as Lucius pointed his wand and cast ”Avada Kedavra!”
He moved under the bed, out the other side, scooped up the MediWitch's’s wand, and pointed it all in one move. “Stupefy!
He caught the baby as Lucius fell. He wasn’t much for babies or children, or people for that matter, but there was something about this little girl. She was so beautiful, so sweet, innocent. He couldn’t let the Dark Lord have her. What was he supposed to do? This was not covered in any of his lessons.
He had no idea where to go, who to turn to. No, that wasn’t entirely so. He knew exactly who to turn to.
His only regret was that he didn’t have time to kill Lucius before the Dark Lord swept into the room.
Dumbledore, who had seen and heard everything in his many, many years, sat at his desk and gaped, mouth wide open, eyes glazed over, at Severus Snape, who stood in front of Dumbledore’s desk, slightly weakened after having just given birth to the baby he was currently holding. Snape sniffed back a few tears and chucked the baby under the chin. “Isn’t she adorable? Precious?”
Dumbledore nodded and managed a very UN-Dumbledore like “Uh huh…”
Snape looked up from the baby. “I’m going to call her Isabella. Or maybe Isadora. Maybe Mavis. What do you think, Sir?”
“What about Prudence?”
Dumbledore snapped out of his stupor. “Severus. This is Voldemort’s child. You certainly cannot keep her in the Wizarding world. He is sure to find her. She must be hidden, kept safe. From both sides. If the Ministry were to find out…” Dumbledore needed a minute to pull himself together. Dumbledore thought that possibly a second lifetime might not be enough time to pull himself together.
“No! This is my daughter! I won’t let her go! We’ll both go into hiding.”
Albus pressed his fingers into his forehead. And his day had started out so well. It was incomprehensible that such a thing could happen. And it certainly appeared to be true. He’d given Snape a drop of Veritaserum. If he wasn’t mistaken the former Death Eater was also going through postpartum depression. This would never do. Saying a silent apology to Severus, Dumbledore hit him with a memory spell and did what had to be done.
Los Angeles, California
Marybeth Clement considered herself to be more about doing what she felt was right than doing what actually was
right. So when the patient in room 214 gave birth to a happy, completely healthy baby girl, even though she was a single, drug-addicted prostitute whose unborn child had had no vital signs or fetal movement, and the patient in room 216 gave birth to a baby who died shortly after, even though she was married to a nice man and did everything right during her pregnancy, she had no qualms at all about switching those babies.
Razzle Simon was perfectly okay with the fact that she wouldn’t be taking a baby home. After all, what kind of life was she really equipped to give a baby anyway?
Hank and Joyce Summers were perfectly happy, never knowing that their baby wasn’t their baby.
And Albus Dumbledore apparated away from the Los Angels Medical Center happy that he’d been able to help the poor woman in room 214 by switching out her stillborn son for a bright and happy, healthy baby girl after stunning the roomful of muggles. What was another few memory charms when faced with the greater good, after all?