The Black Rose

AUTHOR'S NOTES:  I was suddenly inspired by the idea of what happened if one of my fics went in a completely different direction.  So, I took A Broken Bridge between Two Houses and twisted it.  To understand the characters, please seek out that fic to read about them.

DISCLAIMER:  All unrecognized characters are original.  The characters from Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Inc., Warner Bros., etc...  By no way is this work being used for profit.

So many years had passed since she had taken to a life of darkness.  Forsaking all she had grown up with, as an Ancient and as a Gryffindor.  The light seemed an eternity away as she sat in the dark Dungeons of Hogwarts.  So many years had passed since Domenica Knight became the wife of one Severus Snape.

            She always wondered what would have happened if she had stayed with Remus.  Would James and Lily still be alive?  Would it be a life of endless fun and no pain? 

            But there was no sense on drawing on the past when it can bring you no comfort.  Here she was, eighteen years at least after graduating and she had seen more evil in this life than any one person ever should.  She had seen the deaths of her dearest friends and wept tears at their funeral that were riddled with guilt that she had inadvertently caused their deaths.  She had seen her husband tortured endlessly by the hands of that bastard because he still believed that her husband was his servant.  She had watched the innocence of her children become corrupted because of the same agonies that she and her husband faced.

            Domenica silently walked into the sleeping chambers of each of her small children.  Balthazar, her baby boy of just five years old, slept so peacefully in his small bed while his father was out dealing with Voldemort once more.  She knelt by her son's head and gently stroked his jet black hair as he slept.  'A trait inherited from your father…' she thought to herself as a lone tear rolled own her cheek.  Her son's eyes said so much when he was awake though.  Not obsidian like his father…but brown like his mother…so deep and expressive one could forget that they were gazing into the eyes of a five year old boy.  She kissed her little boy's cheek gently and pulled his blanket around him, telling him that his Daddy would be home soon.

            She walked out of her son's room and then headed down the hall to her daughter's – Andronica.  A spitting image of her mother with long dark brown hair and deep dark eyes; already deemed one of the most beautiful at only two years old.  The little girl whimpered in her sleep, only to be quieted by her mother's gentle hand or her father's soothing voice.  Domenica sensed that her daughter could see what was happening to her father but did not understand it and could not easily decipher how to react.  She rubbed her baby's back gently and eased her back to sleep as she sang softly to her. 

            Once both of their children were safely asleep and tucked into their beds, Domenica went back into her husband's study, one of the few rooms with a window with a decent view.  She gazed out into the dimly moonlit night and remembered how many times she would be chasing moonbeams on her broomstick.  But the faint light of the crescent moon also made her wish she could see her husband and hex Voldemort into oblivion for what he does.

            Silence and darkness engulfed the lavish chambers of the Head of the House of Slytherin and left his wife unable to sleep.  She could no longer just sit in the darkness and wait for her husband to return in any varying degree of a battered state.  With her gift of pyromagia, she turned the focus of her mind to the small flames that danced in the fireplace and called them to her with a small wave of her hand.  The temperature in the room increased threefold and the growing flames danced according to Domenica's simple hand gestures and the power of her mind.

            Now most people would use some sort of crystal ball or pensieve to see what they desired but not Domenica Knight.  She moved the flames into almost a wall – a wall in which she could see whoever she desired to.

            "Show me Severus Snape!" she cried out into the blackness, focusing all of her energies into seeing her husband and that bastard Voldemort.

            The flames danced and spun around her as if the very turmoil in her mind were calling them.  The morphed and shifted, changing colors and shapes until a black field was revealed.  Voldemort's chambers.  She watched the Dark Lord subject her husband to the Unforgivables over and over, making him writhe in agony on the floor.  She watched how Severus fought to keep his legendary control as he was vomiting on the floor and had tears of pain streaming down his face, but yet he did not break.

            "Be glad I refused you or you would be dead by now!" Domenica swore under her breath at Voldemort for what he was doing to him.

            This torture had been coming more and more frequent lately as the Dark Lord was trying to reassert his power on all those who had once sworn their lives and souls to him, even those who no longer wanted to be.

            As Domenica watched her husband go through such agony, there were times when she wished that she was by his side only realizing that she would be suffering the same fate.  But then there were other times, when Voldemort seemed particularly venomous, that she was glad that she was safe within the walls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, within only a few feet of her office as the Professor of Ancient Magic and Spells and her sources of ancient magic – both of dark and light – as a defense.  Safe within the walls of the Slytherin dungeons where she could protect her children, who Voldemort would most definitely torture or kill if he knew of their existence.

            Silent tears rolled down her cheeks as she had to watch this wretched scene only to be brought out of her daze by the haunting chimes of the mantle clock.  Three solitary little chimes to signal such an ungodly hour.  Severus had been gone now for three hours, having been ripped from his bed and for once a peaceful sleep by the burning of that damned Dark Mark.  Domenica had been up since that very fateful moment and hated feeling so helpless.  The flames she had conjured were slowly dying as she watched Voldemort slowly eased up and retired for the night, having grown tired of worthless torture for now, allowing her poor husband to collect himself and prepare to come home.  She watched as Severus pulled himself upright, struggling to stand under the immense pain that he was suffering, and was about ready to disapparate when Lucius Malfoy gave him one last slam in the stomach, knocking him to the floor once more with a sickening thud.

            That was the last straw and Domenica could watch this abuse no longer and whipped out her wand and pointed it directly at the image in the flame and summoned her husband home.