"Madam Prins."

Hermione paused with her weeding at hearing her name. They seldom had visitors. Hedda, the woman from down the way she'd bartered with years ago was long gone, as was the case with most anyone she'd taken the time to get to know early on. (The downside of living in a muggle area.) Their friendship hadn't ever gotten beyond trading various garden goodies and the occasional cup of tea. She never had gotten friendly with her children after they'd moved in with her after the Depression.

The daughter seemed to know there was something … off about their land situation. Being able to afford such a vast property with a rather small house. Hermione still brought the family who lived there now some fruit and they gave her walnuts, but there were no shared cups of tea or anything. It was kind of … sad, in a way, but she didn't like lying to people about how they came by their land or anything. And, clearly, they were getting to the point in their lives people would start to wonder how and why they were still alive.

Silly things to think on when living amongst muggles. Things that neither she nor Severus had really thought about sixty years ago when they first came here. They were young then, so why would they have?

That small house was still set up to look lived in, but to this point, sixty years in, no one had ever come calling on them. They hadn't outfitted bedrooms luxuriously or anything like that but the living room and kitchen had been liveable, just in case. Just in case one of Lisa's family who didn't know about magic came by. Or any number of things like that.

That was where she was at the moment, outside the muggle house tending to the weeds there. She reached for her wand discreetly and stood. It took her a moment to recognize the woman standing in front of her. It had been nearly forty years since she'd seen her. If Hermione hadn't been out here weeding, the witch wouldn't have been able to see anything but the muggle house.

She was lucky. Was she lucky? Or was this not the first time she'd come here, hoping for a glimpse of one of the two of them. No kids lived here anymore. Grandchildren and great grandchild were around throughout the summer, but all knew not to come out to this area of their property.

"Miss Prince," she said.

She knew, of course, that was no longer the woman's name. However, Marie Prins wouldn't know that. She had essentially disappeared from the magical world within a year or two of leaving Hogwarts in the late forties. She suspected that her husband kept … apprised of his mother's activities over the years, but he hadn't mentioned anything to her other than the day she'd married Tobias Snape. And the day that Severus Snape had been born as he should have been. She didn't get the impression he followed her doings militantly or anything, but he clearly kept tabs on where she was.

"How are you, Madam Prins?"

"I'm doing well, thank you. And you?"

"Fine. It's polite of you not to ask why I'm here, so I'll save you the trouble of having to skirt around the question. I was wondering if Professor Prins might be at home. I understand he has retired from teaching."

"Oh, yes, a few years ago. It was time."

"I imagine it was."

"Won't you come in?" she asked, gesturing for her to follow as they crossed the magical boundary that kept their home and property secret.

"I really don't want to impose." And, yet, she'd come here, to their home, to seek him out. Not that Hermione considered it a bother.

"It's no imposition, Miss Prince. Really. I know how to say no, or to tell someone they're not welcome."

"It's Snape now," she said.

Of course it was. Hermione was not going to lie to her mother-in-law and claim she didn't know. Severus had always assumed she'd show up at some point having put the face of the Severus she knew with the face of the potions professor she'd known as a student while attending Hogwarts. It was the reason any information gathering he'd done on her over the years had been discreet, without him showing himself to her. Hermione had always presumed she'd show up at Hogwarts, though. It was good to see she could still be surprised at nearly eighty years old.

"Right then, of course, Madam Snape. Please, come on to the house. I'll put some tea on and get Erik for you."

"He is home?"

"Yes," she said.

"Okay then," she said, following Hermione up the hardly used path that led from the muggle home to their magical one and into their home. Interesting to think she might not have followed her to the house if Severus wasn't home. This path, from a muggle's perspective, appeared to go nowhere.

Hermionee led Eileen Snape to the kitchen and started tea as she summoned her patronus. Her lovely female swan appeared.

"Eileen Prince is in the kitchen with me, asking to see you."

She had almost said Eileen Snape, but Erik Prins would not recognize that name. Well, he knew Severus of course. Anyway, precautionary. Just in case she was here for another reason than having figured out who Erik Prins might be.

"You have a lovely home."

"Thank you. It has served us well over the years."

"Do you always garden?"

"Oh, yes. It's relaxing and it feels good to see the results of my work. I love magic, don't get me wrong, but there is something very magical about tending my grounds and seeing them flourish with my hands and hard work. Erik usually leaves me to my own devices when I'm doing it, so it gives me time to think while I'm still accomplishing something."

"I agree," she said. "You've been married for a long time then?"

"Mm, yes, sixty years this past March. I guess it depends on the day whether either of us thinks that's a long time or not."

Eileen smiled slightly at that, and she was glad she could make her mother-in-law smile. Severus had always presumed she'd show up eventually. Had she seen present-day Severus for some reason recently and that led her here?

"He is good to you?"

She met Eileen's gaze evenly. "He has been a very good husband and father. I wouldn't have had five children and fostered four others with him if I felt otherwise. He is truly the bravest person I know. I'm so proud of him and that I've been able to experience this with him."

"I imagine it has been that. An experience I mean."

"It has."

"Grandchildren?"

"Oh yes, thirty of them. Last count, thirty-six great grandchildren. That includes those from the Harrison side of things."

She felt the wards shift as Severus made his way into their home, just as Hermione set the tea service on the table. She set some cookies and other sweets on a plate, wiping her hands off on a towel she went to the door off the kitchen to let him in. He didn't need to be let in, of course, and Eileen didn't seem to find it odd.

"I got your message," he murmured, brushing a kiss against her forehead.

"I see that," she said. "We're in the kitchen. There's tea and some sweets…"

"That should be fine, I'm sure. Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, but you're welcome. Do you want me to stay inside?"

He looked as if he might be considering her offer for a moment, and saying yes. He shook his head, though, offering her a bit of a smile.

"I don't think that will be necessary."

"All right," she said, reaching to run her fingers through his hair above his ear. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

She went out the way he'd come in, returning to the area of the yard she'd been weeding.

What did he even say to this woman?

"I told your wife you have a lovely home."

Bless her for speaking up, and regarding a subject he felt … comfortable discussing with this woman. At least until he knew why she was here.

"She has made it so. Most of my time was spent at Hogwarts, so I cannot take any credit other than I suppose loosening the purse strings over the years as she asked for things, but thank you."

He stood there for a moment, having no idea how to proceed. He'd always assumed at some point she'd come looking for him. He had not seen her seeking him out at his home, but he supposed it made sense. He was retired, so she couldn't show up at Hogwarts. That would seem odd to staff members, except Albus, but particularly Severus Snape. The Severus Snape who was currently a professor there. Diagon Alley was far too public.

"Sit, please," he said, gesturing to the table and pulling a chair out for her. They had a formal dining room, but this kitchen table that could seat a dozen comfortably had gotten used more often than not over the years.

They fixed their tea quietly. He could have fixed hers for her, he still remembered how she took it, but Erik Prins would not have that knowledge so he refrained.

"You are him, aren't you?"

He sighed softly, taking one of Hermione's cookies as he thought over his answer. Best be sure she was suggesting what he thought she was.

"Who do you think I am, Miss Prince?"

She watched him, eyes never wavering from his gaze. "It's your eyes," she said.

He scoffed.

"Se…"

"Do not," he said. "I am talking with you, but that has not been my name for the majority of my life."

"I suppose," she said. "Erik? How did you come up with Prins?"

He shook his head, recalling when he first learned what name Albus had sent him back with. And what an unimaginative imbecile he'd thought the headmaster was.

"I did not. It was Albus. I was mad at the time, thought he was an unimaginative twit."

"You don't any longer?"

He sighed here, running the pad of his thumb along the rim of his teacup. One thing he liked about his wife, the everyday day teacups were not anything he'd be ashamed of using. Oh, for certain, she had the dainty and fancily decorated teacups, too, for special occasions. He glanced from the tabletop to her face.

His mother's face. She'd been dead by this point originally, so he couldn't say for certain if she looked the same. Odd to think.

"I suspect this," he said, gesturing to them. "Was his reason. He never did anything without one."

"You retired so he could have the position."

"I did. It was his position to have."

"Why?"

"Why was it his position?"

"No. Why?" she asked, gesturing to his home.

"I cannot go into the why of it. My wife and I are the only two who know the specifics. There was a situation that had to be taken care of. We took care of it."

She nodded, evidently accepting his answer. Oddly, of all the people who might find out, she was the one he expected would do exactly that. Take him at his general word that there was a reason and it had been seen to. She was … exact like that. She always had been.

Silence as she processed that. No doubt wondering what type of situation, though she wouldn't ask. She knew him well enough to know if he wanted to say, he would. Merlin, this was … not necessarily uncomfortable, but certainly strange.

"He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you. He doesn't understand why you stayed in a miserable marriage, verbally abusing him and allowing him to be physically abused for years. Having had you as a student, though, I suspect you were not treated much better as a child yourself."

"No," she said.

"If you are here believing if you can't have him, you can have me, you are on the wrong track. I am not your son. Not this version of him, anyway."

She nodded.

"I'm not. I just wondered, and I don't know that he's put it together yet. He didn't see you forty years ago. Are you friendly with him?"

"We talk. I was his mentor," he said with a low chuckle. "I did not steer him toward potions, that was his, my - our, natural gift. I just gave him more information than he would have gotten from any other professor. The professor my first time in that subject was, while sufficient, was not excellent."

That sounded conceited, but it was true. Horace could have likely been a great professor if he focused on teaching students instead of collecting the ones he thought would make him look good. He also knew he wasn't great his first go around. Guilt. Lack of self-confidence. Being a spy. All of these things contributed to him not extending himself as a professor as he should have.

"He spoke highly of you. I, of course, remembered you. I remembered you allowed me to make up that potion."

"I did."

"Were the two of you together before?"

"No," he replied. "She was a … student up until the day we presented her with the idea." Merlin he hated admitting that, but he was not going to lie to this woman. "I assure you, until she was legal I behaved myself."

"Oh," she said, sounding disappointed.

Why would that disappoint her?

And then it occurred to him. She wasn't disappointed that he'd been a gentleman with his sixteen year old wife. She was disappointed that prior to this scheme, he and Hermione had not been a couple. She was asking if his witch, the younger one, could be his younger self's witch.

"I don't know if they will find one another without the influences we had. I would never have…"

"I know," she said, setting a hand over his. "We may not see eye to eye and you, he, may think I don't pay attention but I know he is an honourable man. You are as well from what I recall about you. May I see pictures, Erik?"

"Of course," he said.

They took their teacups into the sitting room and he let her look through sixty years' worth of photo albums. First it was the two of them. There weren't too many of those. Today, he regretted that was the case, but he imagined - scheme or not - they weren't the only newly married couple who didn't document much of their existence until offspring came into the equation. And, well, there could be no questions about Hermione's pregnancy, or lack thereof, if there were no pictures. Then it was the three of them. There were photos of the property, the animals they'd had over the years, and the various gardens they'd had. She asked questions as to who was who and how they met and such, but overall it was a few hours of mostly silence.

He saw tears in her eyes as she got to pictures of their latest great grandsons, Philip and Randall's grandsons, Sterling and Leonard. Both were almost a year old now. Philip's son, Erik, had gotten married a few weeks ago and there were pictures of that. Willem Junior and Philip's other son, Maxwell, were getting married next year.

They were getting to the point where every year there seemed to be at least one of something happening!

It was obvious, too, from the photographs that the Harrisons, while not officially adopted, were just as significant to their family as the other children.

Her attention returned to a picture of him holding a weeks old Thomas once she'd gotten through them all. It was interesting that she went back to that one, but not unusual, he supposed. To her eye, Thomas would, technically, be her first grandson. Her Severus was twenty-six and no closer to marrying than he had been at the same age.

"I never meant to leave for good. I just wanted to figure myself out. My parents were not nice, as it seems you surmised. They had nothing nice to say about muggles. I decided to find out for myself. The Ministry didn't appeal to me, and that was about the only option I had.

I'd heard you and your wife, and your children of course, talk about things you'd done over the summers as a family. You did not make it sound bad or as if muggles were uneducated barbarians. It made me curious. Curiosity led to deciding to stay a while. I got a job at a local hospital, delivering flowers and what not to patients. It didn't pay very well, but I was able to eat at the cafeteria. I proved my worth and eventually was asked to join the janitorial staff. It was strange, cleaning things the muggle way like that. It taught me things, though, about myself. What I was willing to do. How easy magic was to rely on." She shrugged. "Magic was everything to my parents, so magic became something I didn't want. I met my husband. I didn't know, Erik." She set the lone picture she'd been holding down and looked at him with genuine sorrow in her eyes. It was almost his undoing. "I didn't know that the mill would close. I didn't know that two drinks an evening would lead to more."

"I know," he said simply.

He knew that now . It had taken a long, long time and lots of chopped wood and other physical labour around this property he called home to wrap his mind around the fact that his mother hadn't done anything deliberately.

"I'd married a muggle. That was unforgivable to my parents, and yet if I'd divorced him I wouldn't have been able to go back home either. I was stuck."

"You thought about it?" he asked, surprised.

He never realized that. Why should he have? He never would have thought that the idea of divorce had entered her mind. She was talking the sixties. While done, they were not common. And it very much would have been a "she said, he said" situation. His father could charm snakes if he had to.

"I did. The first time he hit me. I packed my bags. My parents told me I'd made my bed and had to lie in it. More or less. Before I met your father I'd rented an apartment with three other muggle ladies. They were all married by then, I didn't know anyone else."

"You were stuck," he repeated.

Severus would never dream of turning his back on his children.

Ever.

He would have had a long talk with Hermione if he felt he'd ever been in a position of feeling as if she was interfering in that. And he wholeheartedly believed she would do the same. They were a product of their time, though. Their original time. No doubt, if he had truly been born in 1890, he would have a different stance.

Of course, he wouldn't be here having this conversation with this woman if he had truly been born in 1890, so it was rather irrelevant to contemplate such a thing.

He believed each of their kids (biological or not), the grandchildren as well for that matter, knew that they always had a room at their home if it was needed. It was one of the reasons they kept the muggle house furnished. Just in case. For any reason. Like Severus' mother just said. She didn't know her husband was going to lose his job and turn into a drunk. Oh, he was certain the signs he had a propensity to it were there, but when he'd been busy working it hadn't been an issue.

He never wanted his children to feel stuck, as if there was no way out, or that they had nowhere to go. Things changed. People changed. He was living proof of that.

Tom was living proof of that!

"Yes. He apologized. He said it would never happen again." She scoffed. "By the time he came," she said, meeting his gaze for the first time in a little while. "Well, I was pretty dead inside."

"Yes, I was there." He doubted much of … that had changed for young Severus.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, obviously fighting back tears.

He believed she was sincere. Truly, he could see in her eyes and by her body language that she was speaking from the heart. He just wasn't sure why. For that matter, he wasn't even sure why she was here today.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I've tried to talk to him. He will not listen to me."

"As is his prerogative."

"I know!"

She reached for a handkerchief in her handbag and wiped her eyes and nose. He could not interfere with that. Young Severus would wonder why his mentor was talking to him about his mother. Severus was fairly certain younger Severus knew that his mother had been a student of his potions professors in the forties.

"May I see them?" she asked, gesturing to the photo albums.

"I'm not sure how…" He wasn't saying no, but he truly had no idea how they could work that.

"I understand," she said. She slid her handkerchief back into her handbag and stood then. "I've taken up way more of your time than I intended. Your wife must think I'm incredibly rude for just showing up and monopolizing hours of your day."

"She does not think that. I'm certain of it. She could have come in and gone elsewhere in the house at any time. She loves to weed," he said with a shrug. This had not been a horrible way to spend his afternoon. "You do not have to leave yet."

"I need to get home."

"Ah," he said, standing as well. He walked her to the door. She reached up then, patting his face.

"It's very strange seeing those eyes looking at me from that face."

He did not flinch at her touch nor did he find it comforting. It was just a hand to his face. The … acceptance and apology he had years ago craved were no longer needed. He'd spent essentially the past seventy-five years forging his own way with little input or need for this woman. The sixty of them with Hermione, though, made him realize that the pat to the face was not for his benefit, but rather for hers. She needed that affirmation. So, he let her do it and said nothing.

"I can imagine it is," he said. "I'm glad that you came, Eileen. I will talk to Marie and see if there's a way we can come up with something to make your request work."

"Thank you."

"May I contact you at home?"

It wasn't an unreasonable question to ask, and one that he probably should have thought of before she was at the door. He wasn't in a position to deal with jealous husbands very often. He could just imagine what his father might do to her if he thought she was having an affair with not just an older man but a wizard.

"Yes."

He nodded then, watching her walk to where Hermione was still working. Hermione stood after removing her gardening gloves. The two women talked briefly, Hermione reached in and hugged his mum before turning to glance at him. His mum would now know how to find them. He wasn't overly distressed by that turn of events. Really, the Fidelius Charm was more to keep curious muggle bystanders at bay.

A pop of apparition was the only indication he had that his mum was gone.

He'd expected a visit at some point. He'd known she'd put it together. His mum was a lot of things, but stupid wasn't one of them. He just hadn't expected it to be this soon.

Hermione found him still standing in the sitting room, looking out the window. He hadn't even noticed her walking toward the house. She hugged him from behind and let her head rest against his back.

"She wants to see them," he said, gesturing to the photo albums.

"Does she?" She didn't sound surprised. He imagined likely she was, in fact, not.

"That's what she said."

Silence. She was obviously waiting, giving him the chance to expound on that.

"I'm glad that it was a nice visit," she said finally.

"So am I," he said, exhaling sharply.

It was odd and uncomfortable, but it had been nice. Admittedly, it was easy to look at the children now, grown and having children and grandchildren of their own and forget where they started.

He never wanted to forget.

He didn't want to forget his beginnings either. They'd gotten him here. To this. To Hermione.

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com