And Counting || Silvanna Snape

Chapter Twenty-One

 I hope you all had a lovely Christmas! Please excuse my little break, I've been super busy at work x

 The post was the worst part of Silvanna's day. Not at work - she loved her job, in fact she could spend hours more than necessary everyday at her desk, doing more and more. No, the post in her apartment.

 It was a tiny one-bed, though large for New York, with a window next to the single sofa with the view of another building, identical to hers. The shower room had space for only the essentials, as did the bedroom. Her wardrobe wasn't even in there, so she used a coat-cupboard instead. She had no desk, only a two-person kitchen table, and a cramped kitchenette. And a singular chair. But it was home, as much as all the other places had been.

 But the post. Aside from the usual gut-squeezing bills, on Tuesdays there were MACUSA updates. A large envelope with headlines from both the Daily Prophet and The New York Ghost. She'd learnt very quickly that while MACUSA could be very supportive, they also kept a close eye on witches and wizards. As was their policy, any witch or wizard living among muggles was to be regularly updated with the wizarding world.

 And then once a year - the most painful time there was - a few days into July. She always sent Harry Birthday cards and presents, although she had no idea what he'd like. Just generic boy-presents, and muggle ones of course. Nothing extraordinary. But they always came back. The toys, books, and clothes were donated, and the ever-growing pile of cards were stashed in the shoebox where she kept her wand. Even if he did open her cards he'd have no idea who she was, so she'd begun putting pictures of her with James and Lily in too. But he never opened them, so he never knew.

 Weekends were too much for her. At first she had explored the city, or taken on extra work to do at home. But then the muggles began advertising for emergency nursing staff on the AIDs ward in one of the hospitals. Despite the somber picture that summarised the cloud of the epidemic (a skeletal-looking young boy), she smiled a little. James and Sirius wouldn't know that witches and wizards were immune to muggle disease. God, they probably didn't even know there was such a thing.

 Little thoughts like these, they were the problem.

 So she signed up. Weekends only, to fill up as much time as she could. She kept it a secret at work though. Somehow, despite years of separation from her friends during the war, she still feared that marginalisation, she still needed people to speak to her. Perhaps the first time had made her fear worse.

 And that was that. Everything gone, replaced with a life of constant distraction and wine in the evenings. Silvanna was starting fresh and she felt awful for it.

*****

 12th August 1993

 Silvanna had plenty of meetings in her schedule for all sorts of things. Meetings with authors - both old and prospective -, with their whole department, other editors, the finance department - plenty. Her job was part-reading, part-writing, and part-meeting. She had to be organised to keep on top of it all, so her schedule was neatly laid-out in a blue notebook.

 She didn't notice when the meeting with N, Springfield was filed. She just assumed it was supposed to be there and she'd forgotten about it, so sent the name down to reception with all the rest.

 At one-thirty, two men arrived in sharp suits and clean hats. Nathan Springfield introduced himself, and his colleague was Bill Clarkson. They asked for coffee as they produced their folders, stamped confidential.

 'Thank you for meeting with us,' Springfield began, opening it up, 'Now Madame Snape, we do have some quite sensative information for you-'

 She coughed. 'I do believe this is not a trip with regards to historical publications?'

 They exchanged a glance. 'That's correct,' Springfield said.

 She stood and indicated the door. 'The "Madame" gave it away. You can put a report in my weekly letter, that will be all.'

 'You'll be surprised when Aaron turns up then,' Clarkson told her. She frowned in question. 'We're bringing an Auror here, for your protection.'

 She sat back down, and Springfield handed her a photograph of a madman. Laughing hysterically with all teeth bared, was Sirius Black.

 Silvanna stared at it, before handing it back. The August heat was sweltering, enough for her to be wearing only loose linen. But sat there she felt cold, frozen solid like ice on a mountaintop, and just as solitary.

 'Is he dead?' She didn't question why she said it, it was simply the only possibility.

 'No Madame. I'm afraid he has escaped from Azkaban prison.'

 As an animagus. But to say that now would expose the one thing she would always keep a secret, and it wasn't hers to share - it was Remus's.

 She put her head in her hands, closing her eyes. Should she say something? Could she? How did she even know Remus was still alive?

 'If you need a moment...'

 'No. No I'm fine.' She looked back up and issued a small smile. 'I won't waste one of your Aurors, I'll just make sure to carry my wand. Thank you for bringing this to my attention-'

 'Just one moment,' Clarkson said, as Springfield filed the photograph away, 'Do you know anything that might aid the British in his capture? Any tricks or spells he invented while you were friends?'

 'With respect, Mr Clarkson, if I had ever truely known Sirius Black, he'd have been in prison long before his arrest.'

 They exchanged another look.

 'Thank you for your time Madame Snape. Aaron will be here this afternoon - I'm sure he'll introduce himself.'

 Escaped - actually escaped. How could this happen? And was Harry safe? Surely he would be - the Ministry of Magic had been more than competent the last time she'd been in the UK. He'd be found soon, she was certain.