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Welkin in the Wizarding World (COMPLETED)	By : welkin_cooper Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Het - Male/Female Views: 14600 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters in it. I don't benefit financially from the production or display of this work of fanfiction in any way.

Chapter List
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Scars

Snape argues with Madam Pomfrey concerning what's best for Welkin's recovery from the dragon attack, as the news of Snape's heroism makes the gossip rounds. Dumbledore makes a gesture of reconciliation.

"That's crazy... why would anybody want to try to kill me?" Welkin frowned at Snape in puzzlement at such an odd pronouncement.

"I can only speculate as to the reason, but you were lured into the cave of a sleeping dragon by the sound of my voice. Clearly that was an attempt on your life," Snape concluded.

"Voldemort?" Welkin guessed.

"I do not think so. He prefers to face his victims, the better to enjoy the look of... terror in their eyes."

Severus fell silent, and his face assumed a brooding, troubled look which Welkin had seen on those beloved craggy features more often of late.

Would there ever come a time when that look was no longer there, hovering just beneath the surface? Welkin doubted it. Not as long as they were here at Hogwarts and he was still pressed into duty as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. The best she could probably hope for was a less frequent reappearance of that look of misery over time. If only they could get away from this place. Severus just kept drowning in the past here. No matter how many lifelines she threw out to him, there was always a ghostly grindylow of a bad memory surfacing to try to pull him back under the lake of his regrets.

Severus had scars on his soul much deeper than anything the dragon could ever have inflicted on Welkin's flesh, she realized with sorrow. She had known it before, but was only now coming to understand the true depth of it after nearly two years of marriage.

Welkin shifted stiffly in the hospital bed, reached out a hand and covered the boney knuckles of one of his large hands with her own, empathizing with what she knew he was feeling.

"You're thinking about Lily again, aren't you? It wasn't your fault that you couldn't prevent her death, Severus," she said gently. "No more than it would have been your fault today if you hadn't been able to save me," she added.

"I know that," Snape said quietly.

"No, you obviously don't, or you wouldn't keep trying to be savior to the Wizarding World to try to atone for mistakes you made when you were young and didn’t realize what you were getting yourself into. You've given up so much already because you think you don't deserve to be forgiven unless you make yourself completely miserable. But you already have been forgiven... by Lily and by the ones who count."

Snape grasped her hand tightly and once again clutched hopefully at the lifeline of her comforting words. "If only I could really be sure of that!"

"Believe it... not because I tell you to... but because it's really true," Welkin urged.

"Excuse me," Madam Pomfrey interrupted, as she arrived with Welkin's second dose of pain potion to diminish the raw throbbing from the burns on Welkin's right ankle where the dragon's breath had made its ugly searing marks.

"That's enough of that for tonight," she told them, rudely aborting the tender gesture of Snape leaning towards his wife for a kiss. She had observed that and their clasped hands, and totally misinterpreted both gestures.

"I can't have my patient overly-excited, professor. It isn't good for her," Pomfrey told Snape sternly. The rumors of the Snapes' exuberant extracurricular sexcapades made her wary of leaving them alone for too long without her supervision.

Welkin swallowed the lumpy pain potion, which had something floating in it that looked a little bit like Owl droppings to her. She hastily motioned to Snape to hand her a glass of water to cleanse her mouth of the unpleasant aftertaste.

"That stuff is so disgusting, I'd almost rather have the pain," she told the nurse. "How much of a scar am I going to have? You said it probably wouldn't be completely obliterated by the treatment."

"This is progressing quite well," the nurse said approvingly, as she used her wand to dissolve the bandages to check on the healing process. "Although the initially burned area was large, the size has diminished by half and I'd say that the scar will be quite negligible. You were most fortunate to be wearing boots."

She slathered on some more of the thick orange paste she had used to salve Welkin's burn earlier, and reapplied fresh bandages with the wave of her wand.

"It's time for you to get some rest," Madam Pomfrey advised. "Say goodnight to your visitor now."

"Does he really have to go just yet? I'm not the least bit tired," Welkin pleaded.

"Do not concern yourself, I shall not leave your side," Snape reassured her, glaring at the nurse. The prospect of sleeping in their bed tonight without Welkin was daunting enough for him, without the added threat of also being driven from her hospital bedside so early.

"Now, Professor Snape, you wouldn't want to set a bad example for the other patients, would you?" Pomfrey asked, sounding like she was talking to a sulky eleven-year-old. "None of them can have visitors at this hour either, and you'll be disturbing them as well as your wife if you stay. Go along with yourself now, and I'll take good care of your wife if she needs anything."

"Which other patients would we be disturbing?” Snape insisted on knowing. “I only observe there to be one other patient in this ward, madam, unless the others you speak of are possessed of Invisibility Cloaks. That little half-wit of a first year student is obviously overjoyed to have pulled the wool over your eyes and convinced you that he needs to be excused from his classes for two full days," Snape accused. “I could care less if he is inconvenienced by our presence.”

"My word, professor! Have you no compassion? The child fell in the lake and nearly drowned. He caught his death of a chill in the cold water. I'll not have him over-exerting himself by returning to classes too soon in his weakened condition, and I'll not have you disturbing the sleep he needs with your... your..."

"My what?" Snape asked coldly, his tone tinged with warning.

"With your... shenanigans is what, professor! You and your wife's scandalous shenanigans are the talk of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, if you must know. Professor Dumbledore may turn a blind eye to your disgraceful behavior in front of these students, but I'll have none of it here in my hospital ward!"

"That boy's bed is completely removed from us. It is entirely at the other end of this ward and you may give him a strong sleeping draught if you are so concerned with the tender sensitivities of that whiney little faker. I suggest you transfer your attentions to attending to that little charlatan's ills, and let me attend to my wife, since you seem so willing to equate a mere case of the sniffles with a deadly dragon attack," Snape said snidely. "Might I add that your professional demeanor in this matter is sadly lacking, madam."

"Be that as it may, you will not turn my hospital ward into a den of iniquity. It is time for all visitors to leave, professor... that means you!" Pomfrey looked like an agitated hen that had just had her feathers ruffled one too many times by Snape.

Welkin had been watching the escalating acrimonious exchange with wide-eyed interest, not attempting to intervene at all, her eyes darting back and forth between them as she quietly sipped her water through the straw until she got to the bottom with a loud sucking sound that made both their heads turn towards her again.

"What's wrong with a little shenanigans? Maybe it would boost my morale, I'd get better sooner, and we could both leave," Welkin finally interjected.

Nurse Pomfrey looked not just singularly unimpressed with Welkin's skewed logic, but positively alarmed at her innocently intended suggestion.

"It’s just as I suspected! I am not leaving you two alone in my hospital ward to do as you please in front of an impressionable young boy. The proprieties will be observed at all times. I will allow you five more minutes to say your goodnights, but I shall keep a sharp eye out for any inappropriate contact, I assure you."

"You will not have to, madam," Snape said stiffly, clearly offended by the intimation that they would do anything startling in front of the boy. Maybe Welkin would, but he certainly wouldn't, and Pomfrey was completely out of line to suggest such a thing.

"I am taking my wife and these medicinals back to our chambers now, where I shall care for her myself," Snape announced loudly, as he stood up and began cramming Welkin's wand and various other articles into her bag.

"Don't forget the roots and herbs," Welkin instructed helpfully. "We spent most of the day gathering those and went through a dragon attack for them, so don't leave them behind."

"No, no! Mrs. Snape must not leave, she has not fully recovered! She should spend the night here under my observation at the very least," the agitated nurse insisted. "I must give my approval for her release, professor. Stop that immediately!"

"Bollocks!" Snape yelled, causing Welkin to not quite stifle a giggle. "You cannot hold my wife hostage! She wishes to come with me, and come with me she shall!"

She did wish to go with him, but Welkin wondered idly when he had managed to determine that, since he hadn't bothered to ask her what she wanted.

Snape draped Welkin's bag of roots and herbs around his neck and chest in a sling-like fashion, threw back the bedcovering and scooped Welkin up in his arms, striding swiftly towards the door with her, a dark scowl on his face while Welkin smiled drowsily but quite happily with her arms around his neck, enjoying the considerable melodrama of the moment.

Madam Pomfrey tried once more to entreat Snape to listen to reason, following him to the door and bravely tugging at his arm, something most people would be too frightened to attempt with Severus Snape. Fortunately for her, the much maligned other patient was suddenly struck with a loud, convulsive coughing fit and Pomfrey had to abandon her efforts to tackle Snape in order to rush to his bed.

It was a good thing that Welkin was modestly clad in the rather sedate grey nightshirt that Severus had retrieved for her earlier from their quarters, because the sight of him carrying her through the hallways was a source of great entertainment to the students they encountered.

The story of Snape's victory over the dragon had already circulated the castle via both the student grapevine and the gossip rounds made by occupants of the many Hogwarts paintings and portraits. The heroic story was even being discussed in the kitchens by the Hogwarts house-elves, who had just barely gotten over the recent discovery of Welkin Snape's scandalously ripped clothing on the floor of the dungeon Potions Lab.

"Heads up! Dragon slayer in the house! Badass dragon slayer coming through... make way for the dragon slayer and potty-mouth damsel in distress!" Welkin added to the drama by shouting similar commands every three hundred yards or so, until small groups of students began to laugh and break into sporadic cheers and applause for Snape, the unlikely hero.

A few of the older students thought they saw a shadow of a smile quirk the corners of Snape's lips as the couple passed them, but dismissed it as an illusion. Everyone knew Snape didn't have a sense of humor, or respond in any way to compliments, which he was likely to regard as arse-kissing attempts at flattery. They were grateful that Professor Snape had his hands full toting Welkin off to their quarters in the dungeons and wouldn't be able to do anything about it if he disapproved of the shouted accolades they were bestowing on him.

"Potty-mouth is right," Ron told Harry and Hermione with annoyance as Snape nearly mowed them down as he was headed down the stairway to the dungeons. "They deserve each other! They're both mental, and he's so full of himself, acting like some kind of a hero when that dragon probably just got one look at that ugly face of his and dropped dead of fright."

"Well, I think he was very brave to risk his life to rescue her like that!" Hermione snapped. "Ronald Weasley, you just have no sense of romance at all!"

"Just like a girl to go all soft in the head 'cause a bloke does something only a nutter would do just to draw attention to himself. I'd expect that out of somebody daft like Lavender, but I thought you had a better head on your shoulders than that Hermione, to fall for that balmy romance rubbish," Ron sniffed.

"Ronald, you need to just shut up since you don't know what you're talking about. But since when is that anything new? At least you got one thing right this time... you finally noticed that I'm a girl!" Hermione shoved past Ron and stalked away angrily.

Harry looked at Ron and shook his head. "You two are making my scar hurt worse. Every day it's the same thing. I wish you'd just stop arguing with her and tell her that you fancy her."

"Me? Fancy her? Not bloody likely!" Ron protested. "I just... don't want to see her mixing with the wrong sort is all...she's mental, but... she's my friend, ya know?" he finished weakly.

Harry raised a hand to rub his temple, where the lightning bolt-shaped scar was throbbing once again. Every week that went by without a stab of pain almost made him forget that he was still a target of Voldemort. It lulled Harry into a false hope that he might be able to finally lead a more normal existence and be just another student at Hogwarts.

Harry sometimes daydreamed that Voldemort had weakened on his own and Harry wouldn't have to fulfill his unwanted destiny as the Chosen One. God, how he hated being called that, and all the pointing and whispers that came with it. He hated that as much as he hated Snape, who had appointed himself as Harry's personal devil the moment he set foot in Hogwarts the year of his eleventh birthday.

Harry rubbed his forehead again and thought of how great it would be to wake up in his four-poster bed tomorrow morning in the Gryffindor dormitories and be rid of his jagged scar, that ugly reminder that he too had been a catalyst for his parents' deaths at the hands of Voldemort so many years ago.

"Aberforth sends his regards," Minerva told Albus, as she struggled with Sullivan Snape to free his fists from the strands of Dumbledore's long silver beard which Sully was tightly grasping and tugging at.

"Dum... Dum... Dum-daaah!" Sully squealed, recognizing the man who sometimes visited his Mama and Daddy in their quarters, always with a delicious sweet treat or a bauble in his pocket just for Sully.

"Somehow I doubt that Aberforth did any such thing," Albus told her. "At least, not without prompting from you."

He extricated Sully's hands from his beard himself and quickly thrust a teacake into them instead, which instantly quieted the child.

"The boy has spirit! Not unlike myself at that tender age. I'm afraid my poor mother and father had quite a handful to contend with when we were growing up, though Aberforth and dear Ariana never got into nearly as many scrapes as I did," Albus admitted.

"The wee bairn is a bit on the stubborn side, and much too daring for his own good at times," Minerva reported. "But he's a bonny charmer, and tugs at hearts as strongly and surely as he does at your beard," Minerva added, her eyes shining fondly at the child in her lap. "The lad could use a mite more discipline from those parents of his, mind you, but I haven't the heart to correct him myself."

Albus watched the usually stern woman beaming at the child and thought how unfortunate it was that Minerva was probably past her childbearing years now, especially since she was currently keeping company with his brother Aberforth. If things were different, and there were more time, perhaps he would have done a better job as an uncle than he ever did as a brother or a son.

Albus wasn't a great believer in regrets, but he did have a few. Among the foremost on the list was his almost non-existent personal relationship with his brother, aside from Aberforth's cooperation with the Order of the Phoenix. There had always been jealousy and competitiveness in their childhood relationship, but the deaths of their mother and sister had been the thing that had driven the final wedge between them. They had each blamed the other for the bigger part in that tragedy, and the hatred they felt had hardened their hearts year after year against each other until the wounds were so deep that it seemed they would never be healed.

Sometimes a scar was preferable to an open wound that might never heal until it was too late, Albus mused.

"Minerva, will you do me a great kindness?" Albus asked.

"If it's in my power to, of course I will."

"Would you deliver a letter I intend to write to Aberforth? I prefer that you deliver it personally instead of entrusting it to an Owl."

"Yes, of course I will."

Albus hesitated, then added: "I also ask that you deliver the message that it is sent with my most kind regards, in hopes that he and you might enjoy Christmas dinner together with me here at Hogwarts this year."

Minerva beamed at him like she had at the baby. "I'd be delighted to tell him! You'll not regret this, Albus. I swear that you won't."
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Welkin in the Wizarding World (COMPLETED)

Scars