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Secretly Slytherin	By : Veresna Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 12269 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 39
- 40
- 41
Chapter 40: To Grandmother’s House We Go
Helena sat at the dining room table in her robe and nightgown, her bowl of porridge sitting untouched as she sipped at her tea and stared through the window. It was one of those brisk and clear late December days, the bright sunshine streaming in the windows belying the frigid temperature outside. Undoubtedly, it was even colder at Hogwarts, she mused. She sighed and set down her cup, wondering what Severus might be doing and how he was feeling during her absence. It was funny, she hadn’t expected to miss him as much as she did. After all, most weeks their interaction was limited to the Potion’s Class on Mondays and their Saturday night rendezvous. But, she admitted, she at least got an occasional glimpse of him at meals in the Great Hall or slinking around the corridors.
She smiled slightly as she cupped her chin into her hands and leaned her elbows against the table. She rather thought that Severus was missing her as well. And that the students who were unfortunate enough to remain behind at the school over the holiday break were going to be bearing the brunt of his displeasure. He always seemed to be in a foul mood around Christmas time anyway, so she could only imagine that her absence combined with the rush of adolescent hormones accompanying the Yule Ball celebration was only making him more insufferable than ever.
She was stirred out of her reverie by the loud thump of the front door being banged shut. A moment later, the heavy, determined footsteps down the hallway confirmed her suspicions as to who was paying a visit.
"Helena!"
Luckily, the doorway was behind her, so she could allow herself the liberty of a full grimace before she replaced the expression with a large, sweet smile as she turned to address the speaker.
"Grandmother, how are you?"
"Quite well," she answered, stomping around to the other side of the table to seat herself. "Why aren’t you dressed yet?" she queried.
"I’m on vacation," she protested, yawning and stretching out her arms and regarding the older woman with a smile. "And, I have nothing to get dressed for."
"Hmm," replied her grandmother, with a large dose of disapproval in her voice. Then she leaned forward, her voice slightly lower now. "Are you alone?"
Helena blinked in surprise. "Well, Father left early this morning. To go into the office on some urgent business," she added, dryly.
"Indeed," was the suspicious reply. Her grandmother was concentrating on removing her gloves at the moment, but the expression on her face left no doubt that she, like Helena, rather suspected that it was likely he had merely used that as an excuse to escape from the house and meet with his latest paramour.
"And Mother’s still in bed," she added.
"Good," she intoned, as she gestured at her to rise. "I suggest you get upstairs and get dressed so that we may be on our way."
Helena looked at her curiously. "Where are we going?"
Her grandmother’s steely blue eyes raised to meet Helena’s in a steady gaze. "To buy a suitable dress robe for you, of course."
Helena looked faintly puzzled.
Her grandmother sighed. "Well, I hardly think that any of the gowns you have is sufficiently elegant enough for a formal affair at Malfoy Manor," she clarified.
"Oh," she replied, nodding slightly. So Malfoy had told her of his invitation. That was rather surprising. She herself had so far just made some vague comments to her mother about being invited by some unnamed friends to a New Year’s Eve party.
"Unless, of course, ‘your friend’ has bought you one already," she said, her tone faintly superior and dubious.
For a moment, Helena felt her back stiffening in surprise and her heart definitely skipped a beat or two.
"My friend?" she repeated, hoping she looked sufficiently perplexed at the inference.
"Professor Snape," clarified the older woman.
Helena willed her hand to remain steady as she went to raise her cup back to her lips, using the excuse at sipping at the cooled liquid to give her a moment to compose her reply. She had been surprised enough that Malfoy had informed her grandmother about his invitation. She certainly had never expected that he would have confided to her that Helena was attending the affair with one of her own teachers. Or, should she say, having an affair with one of her own teachers. For, that surely seemed to be inferred by her grandmother’s comment. All of which, of course, begged the question as to why Malfoy had revealed that information to her.
"Actually, Grandmother," she said, raising up her other hand to hold the cup securely as she contemplated the surface of the table, "Severus did buy me a rather nice black velvet gown a few months ago."
"Yes, so Lucius said," replied her grandmother. "But, that’s hardly the color one expects to wear as a ball gown, however. There is to be dancing, you know," she added. "So he suggested that I take you shopping and help you find something more suitable."
"How nice of him," said Helena, replacing the cup into the saucer and raising her eyes back up to the other woman’s face. "And I suppose, as usual, he is also supplying the money for it?"
"As a matter of fact, yes."
Helena slowly and deliberately pushed back her chair and stood up, leaning against the side of the table. "And how much of a percentage are you keeping this time, Grandmother? Though I’m sure you feel it’s only just compensation for your time and energy spent ‘helping me’? The same way you’ve always managed to spend the money he’s given you for my upbringing on yourself?"
For a moment, the older woman’s face was drained of color. But an ugly, vibrant red flush slowly began to spread on her lined, heavily powdered cheeks.
"I assure you, Helena," she began, her voice a low, angry hiss, "that the money which Mr. Malfoy has paid to me over the years has more than once kept a roof over your head, food on your table and clothes on your back."
"Indeed," she replied, tilting her head. "Are you saying it was never used to maintain your own ‘style of living’? Or used to prop up that dilapidated atrocity of a house that you still insist on referring to as a mansion?"
"You’re hardly in a position to be making moral judgments," observed the older woman, coolly. "Since you’re the one cavorting about with one of your own teachers."
Helena found herself choking back a laugh. The word ‘cavorting’ had somehow brought to mind the absurd picture of herself and Severus, dancing barefoot through a sun-lit meadow, with leis of flowers adorning their head. That image was swiftly replaced by the more accurate picture of them rolling around on the floor, rutting away like rabbits.
She snorted loudly and glared back at the woman. "Somehow I don’t think you’re exactly shocked by my behavior, Grandmother," she shot back. "Though, I admit, at one point in my life I would have expected you to be enraged-simply because I was ‘cavorting’ with the head of Slytherin, and not Ravenclaw." She paused and took a seat again. "Though, your allegiance does seem to have changed as of late," she added, maliciously.
The other woman regarded her quietly. "If you wish me to simply leave the money here and return to my home, I certainly will," she said, finally. "But, I did think you might like some help in choosing a gown," she added, stiffly. "Although, of course, you certainly do have a bit more taste than your mother in such matters."
"That’s not saying much," retorted Helena, with a sharp laugh.
The other woman opened her purse and began searching through it, apparently looking for the money in question.
"All right," said Helena, rising up from the table again. "I’m sorry if I insulted you, Grandmother, but you did rather take me by surprise. As I’m sure you meant to." She paused and looked down at the other woman again. "Yes, I would appreciate your help in this matter." She had to admit, she hadn’t really thought about what she was going to wear. But, now that the matter had been broached, it did seem that nothing she had was appropriate for the occasion. "I’ll be right back."
She bolted up the stairs as quickly as she could, but slowed down and tiptoed past the door of her mother’s bedroom. Once inside her room, she locked the door behind her and stood, frowning with her arms crossed, wondering again why Malfoy had confided in her grandmother. She could only suppose that he had a specific, ulterior motive in mind for doing so. But, at the moment, she could not discern what it was.
She walked over to her bureau and pulled open the middle drawer. There, underneath her socks and underwear, she had hidden the packages that had arrived a few days before, delivered by an owl that had flown directly to her bedroom window. Although there had been no return address, a glance at the tags had been enough for her to recognize Severus’ writing. She had been pleased and surprised, for they had not said a word to each other about exchanging Christmas presents. Though she had managed to sneak into his rooms during the final day of classes and leave her own gifts to him lying on the bed.
She had decided that she would wait until they were together again before opening them up. But now she frowned and took out the packages and examined them again, trying to decide if there was any chance he had already bought a gown for her. But the boxes all seemed to be the wrong size or weight. And his accompanying note had merely informed her that he would meet her at her apartment at seven o’clock. If he had bought her something to wear, he probably would have mentioned it, she supposed.
She placed the boxes back in the drawer and covered them up again. It took her only a few minutes to toss on some clean clothes and a plain, sensible robe to wear over them. When she descended the stairs, her grandmother was waiting at the front door.
"Where are we going?" she asked, as she followed her out of the door.
"Madame Zelda’s, of course," was the reply. "The only place to buy a suitable dress robe," she sniffed.
Within a short time, they had apparated to the store and tall, thin salesclerk came scampering to their side as they stepped in. Helena noted, with amusement, that there was just the hint of panic in the poor woman’s eyes when she recognized who it was.
"Ah, Mrs. Ettington," she exclaimed, her voice sweet and full of desire to please, "what a pleasure to see you again. What can I help you with today?" she asked, as she escorted them into a large dressing chamber.
"My granddaughter is in need of dress robes, for a dance," she replied, pointing towards Helena.
"Oh, yes, dear," the saleslady said. "But I did think the Hogwart’s Yule Ball was over," she added, uncertainly.
"It is," assured her grandmother, beginning to shrug off the heavy outer cloak she had worn. "Bring me a chair," she ordered.
The clerk retrieved a wand from her skirt pocket and a moment later, a large, padded chair had appeared.
"This is for a much more elegant and formal affair," Mrs. Ettington continued, sitting down with her coat folded on top of her lap.
"Oh, I see," nodded the sales clerk. With another wave of her wand, a panel of screens appeared around Helena, and she found, rather to her astonishment, that her outer garments were now casually draped over them and she was left, standing in her underwear.
"Let’s begin with a corset," ordered her grandmother.
"A corset?" questioned Helena, her mouth grimacing at the sound. "That sounds painful."
"Nonsense, it’s the only sensible thing to wear underneath a dress robe," she declared.
"Indeed," murmured the saleslady, sliding in between the small opening in the panels with a tape measure in her hand.
Helena reluctantly allowed her to take her measurements, and she bustled out again, returning in a few minutes with a flesh-colored corset in her hand.
"Try this, dear," she said, handing it over.
Helena frowned at it for a moment, wanting to protest that it was much too big. But, she shrugged off her bra and went to pick up the foundation garment, not quite sure how to get it on. To her surprise, the moment it touched her skin it began to wrap itself around her, swiftly securing the long row of hooks that that went up the back and somehow shrinking itself against her like a second skin. One that managed, however, to give a nice bit of support and boost to her substantial bust line. Helena smiled in delight, and wondered if she dared to ask if she could get one in black instead. She smiled wickedly as she contemplated Severus’ reaction to seeing her in that. She belatedly returned her attention to the other women.
"All right, then, any preference for the fabric? Let’s see, a silk or chiffon?"
"Nothing frilly," intoned her grandmother sternly. "Something feminine, and elegant. And low-cut," she added, pointing again at Helena, "after all, she does have the figure to carry it off."
"Grandmother!" squeaked Helena, slightly embarrassed.
"You might as well flaunt it while you have it," replied the older woman calmly.
A moment later some dress robes appeared on hangers in front them, in a variety of colors. Helena stretched out her hand to finger the fabric of one or two of them.
"No," declared her Grandmother, "they simply won’t do."
The next half-hour flew by quickly, the saleslady seeming to have an inexhaustible supply of robes to show them. But her Grandmother seemed quite unimpressed with most of the stock, and only allowed Helena to actually try on three of them. Once they were on, she declared them hopelessly unsuitable.
Finally, the saleslady waved her wand and a dark green velvet gown, delicately embroidered with gold thread, appeared before them. A moment later, Helena was modeling it.
"Yes, yes, quite nice," her grandmother said, nodding her head in satisfaction. "Of course it needs to be shortened…"
Helena nodded, her fingers lovingly stroking the soft fabric of the gown as she turned. That was no surprise, of course, she was so short that almost everything had to be hemmed up for her. But, it did seem to fit quite nicely everywhere else, she had to admit. Including the part that dipped down low upon her bosom, exposing a considerable amount of her creamy skin and hinting at her generous measurements in that area without showing an excessive amount of cleavage.
"Oh, yes, we need to take a bit off at the hem and the wrists. But, it is lovely," agreed the saleslady. "And, I must say, the color does wonders for your eyes."
Helena studied her reflection in the mirror and smiled. Yes, it did bring out the green in her eyes, didn’t it? And she was sure Severus would be pleased to see her wearing a Slytherin color.
She endured another fifteen minutes standing on a stool as the seamstress was called in and did the required alterations, since Mrs. Ettington had declared firmly that they wanted to take the gown with them. Afterwards, her grandmother also insisted that she purchase a pair of sheer silk stockings that glittered with a hint of gold in the weave. Her grandmother argued, unsuccessfully, that she should also buy a pair of kit gloves to complete the ensemble, but at this Helena drew a firm line. Afterward, she stood off to the side as her grandmother went to the counter to pay the bill, determined not to pay the slightest bit of attention to what the gown, its alterations, or its accessories had cost. But, a part of her rather hoping that it was quite a bit. As long as Malfoy was paying for it.
As they stepped back out onto the sidewalk, they paused for a moment, eyes blinking in the bright sunlight that contrasted sharply with the subdued lighting of the store.
"Now then," said her grandmother. "You’ll need shoes also."
"Oh, I already have a lovely pair of gold, high-heeled shoes," protested Helena. "They’ll be just fine."
"Hmm. Not scuffed up are they?"
Helena bit back her impulse to reply, "No, but the strap’s broken on one shoe and the heel’s coming off of the other." Instead, she cleared her throat and replied, "I assure you they are quite presentable, Grandmother."
The other woman inclined her head and then paused for a moment, as if debating with herself what to do next. "Then we need make only one more stop," she declared. "My house," she said, quietly.
To her surprise, Helena found herself following her grandmother up the stairs and into her bedroom. Despite the numerous occasions upon which she had visited her home, including the vacations she had spent there, she had never gotten more than a glimpse of the room from the hallway. This time, the woman beckoned her to follow, and Helena found herself staring about the room.
On every table, and on every wall of the room was a picture of her grandfather. A few with her grandmother as well-pictures of a newly wed couple shyly smiling at the camera, one of her holding her daughter in her lap as the proud father beamed down upon them, and one taken shortly before his death. In this last one, the haggard, aged man was smiling faintly into the camera while the woman beside him held him gently and tenderly. And on one of the bedside tables was a man’s watch and fob, as if they had just been placed there the night before, and their owner would be coming to retrieve them at any moment.
She abruptly turned to see what her grandmother was doing. Out of one of the drawers of her bureau, she was pulling out a long, thin black box. Her fingers seemed to tremble slightly as she removed the lid, and she stood staring down into the box for a long time. Helena moved closer to her, peering around her to see what she was looking at. And she gasped.
It was a beautiful necklace of exquisite emeralds, set in gold, with a pair of matching earrings complementing it.
"Grandmother, they’re simply stunning," she said slowly, her voice hushed with awe.
"Yes, they are," she replied. And then she suddenly shook her head as if clearing her thoughts. "And, they will go beautifully with that gown."
"Oh, yes," Helena agreed. A moment later she was drawing her hair back with hand and raising it up so that the other woman could fasten the necklace in place. She allowed another gasp of pleasure to escape her lips as she beheld her reflection. She smiled at her grandmother’s image in the mirror as her fingers played along the edge of the glittering jewels, imagining how they would look when contrasted against the green and gold of her gown. "Thank you for lending them to me," she murmured, turning back to face her.
"I’m not lending them to you, Helena," she replied. She paused and looked down at the box, her fingers absentmindedly tracing over the soft black velvet of the box’s interior. "I’m giving them to you."
Helena stood with her mouth open, unsure of what to say.
Suddenly she raised her eyes back up to Helena’s face. "You’re absolutely right about the fact that I’ve been very selfish over the years," she began. "I’ve spent a lot of money-both mind and Malfoy’s- trying to hang unto this house. And everything in it. But, it wasn’t really that I wanted to keep all of these things for myself," she said.
She turned, and Helena saw her eyes past swiftly over several of the photographs. "I loved your grandfather very much," she said. She turned back and smiled sadly at Helena. "Very much, indeed."
She moved slowly over to the side of the bed and sat down. "When he died, a very large part of me died also. But, I was determined that I would never, never allow him to be forgotten. And I suppose I thought that by preserving his house, I would also be preserving his memory."
"He was a very great wizard, you know?" she said, suddenly looking back up at Helena. "He fought very bravely against Grindelwald, enduring a number of curses directly from his hand, but refusing to back down," she whispered, fiercely proud.
"I didn’t know that," admitted Helena, a trace of wonder in her voice.
"Of course you didn’t." Now the tenderness and pride in her voice had been replaced with anger and disdain. "You don’t find a ‘Famous Wizard’ card of Malcolm Ettington in your pack of Chocolate Frogs, do you? Oh, no. But, plenty of Dumbledore. As if he defeated Grindelwald single-handedly."
With a furious shake of her head, she arose from the bed. "Oh, I’ll admit, he was the one to fire off the final curse. But, there were plenty of others who helped him on his way. But, he took all the credit for it."
Helena bit her lip. Part of her desperately wanted to defend her Headmaster, but she was afraid it would lead to questions that she would rather not have asked. And, with the depth of resentment and loathing that rang in the older woman’s voice, she was sure nothing she could say would change her opinion anyway.
Her grandmother paused and walked over to the picture that showed the enfeebled man, picking it up. "Took all the credit while other wizards did the dirty work. And ruined their health." She sighed and put the picture back down. "He wasn’t old when he died, you know? Simply drained and unable to fight anymore."
She gestured back at the box lying on the bureau. "He always gave me blue-star sapphires. Always. Even though my birthday was in May, and my birthstone was an emerald. Because I always wanted blue."
Helena smiled fondly at her. "For Ravenclaw?"
"Yes," she admitted, a faint smile of her own flitting across her face. "But, he always threatened me that someday he would buy me emeralds. For our 55^th wedding anniversary." She sighed and picked up the box again. "But, I found these after he died, hidden away with his handkerchiefs."
She picked up the earrings and placed them gently into Helena’s palm. "We hadn’t even celebrated our 25^th anniversary yet," she noted.
"Oh, Grandmother, I’m sorry," Helena began. "Are you sure-"
"Oh, yes," she said, pressing down on her fingers so that the earrings were held firmly in her fist. "I want you to have them." She paused, her expression sad, yet determined. "And I think he would like you to have them."
"Thank you."
Her grandmother gave a brief nod, and then beckoned her to turn around so that she could undo the clasp on the necklace. Helena carefully laid the jewelry back in the box and replaced the lid.
"So," said her grandmother, watching her carefully. "Severus Snape, is it?"
Helena contented herself with nodding her head.
"Well," she snorted, "I guess I should have realized something was up, the way he was hanging about after your injury."
Helena cleared her throat, trying desperately to think of something to change the subject, and praying that her grandmother didn’t remember some of the innuendoes they had indulged themselves in during their conversation at the party to celebrate her Mediwitch school admission.
"Lucius seems to hold a high opinion of him," her grandmother commented.
Helena dropped her eyes and studied the carpet for the moment. Somehow, she found his support to be rather suspicious. And wondered again just what he was up to.
"Rather unusual looking man," she continued.
At this Helena could not suppress a smile. She supposed her grandmother was being quite diplomatic. Although she herself had come to think of him as quite good-looking, she knew that most of her classmates would still have dismissed him as that ‘greasy haired git’.
"Quite intelligent, and powerful I’ll grant you. But, awfully ill-tempered."
"Yes, he can be," she admitted, her smile widening a bit.
"And always stalking about, glaring at people with a frown plastered on his face." She paused for a moment. "But his hands are rather lovely," she conceded.
Helena blinked in surprise.
"And, I dare say when he does release that energy he keeps pent-up all the time, it must be quite remarkable," she noted. "And I’ll bet he’s quite the stallion in bed," she added, casually.
"Grandmother!" Helena’s voice was a shocked squeak.
"Oh, come now," the older woman tut-tutted. "You can hardly expect me to believe that yours is simply a ‘spiritual and intellectual’ bonding. I somehow doubt that you’ve spent much time gazing chastely into each others eyes or reading poetry to each other." She paused, and gave her granddaughter a knowing, wicked grin. "Your grandfather and I surely didn’t."
Helena found herself blushing furiously, even as she began to laugh. "Somehow, I don’t think I want to know any more," she admitted, picking up package containing her dress robe and making her way towards the door.
"Why don’t you leave that here?"
Helena turned back to look at her, puzzled at the request.
Her grandmother sighed and shrugged. "Well, what are you telling your mother about New Year’s Eve?" she asked.
"That I’m spending it with friends," she replied.
"Overnight?"
"Well…." Helena hesitated. She had actually hoped that her parents, who were going to their own celebration that night, would be sleeping in the next morning and not noticing her absence.
"Tell her that you’ve decided to take pity on an old woman and have decided to spend the evening and night at my house and won’t be back until noontime," she said, a trace self-mockery in her voice. "You can stop by here on your way to meet him to pick up the gown and jewelry."
Helena laughed and put the package back down. "All right," she agreed. "Thank you for helping me pick out the dress. And for giving me the jewelry, Grandmother. And an alibi," she added.
The older woman nodded.
Helena paused again, and then she suddenly strode towards her and, leaning up on her tiptoes, gave the woman a kiss upon the cheek. "And thank you even more for telling me about Grandfather," she said.
To her surprise, she felt her grandmother’s arms tighten around her.
"Good luck to you, dear," she said, quietly, releasing her.
With another small smile, Helena turned and went out of the doorway.
Her grandmother waited, listening as her footsteps retreated down the hallway. Then she turned, and picked up another photograph and regarded it thoughtfully. "Oh, Malcolm," she whispered. "I certainly hope he loves her." She put the photograph down and sighed deeply. "Because I think she loves him. Very much."
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Secretly Slytherin