𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐀 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒 | h. granger

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Dumbledore sat in his chair as usual and looked up in surprise and Snape burst in.

"Whatever is the matter, Severus?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"Hogwarts procedure states that if a child is injured at school, the parents are to be informed. My daughter was sent to St Mungos five days ago and I have received no information until now! And that information was from a student! What is the meaning of this, Albus!" Snape was worked up, and Dumbledore could obviously tell as much.

"The reason you were not informed is because a student advised me not to do so. The student in question had a very interesting and unsettling reason for you to be kept in the dark on this matter. I hope it can be cleared up." Dumbledore said, looking at Snape over the top of his glasses.

"How could a student's opinion overrule school rules!" Snape exclaimed.

"The student said you were part of the reason this happened-"

"I would never hurt my daughter! Surely you know this, Albus." Snape interrupted.

"But, alas. I was told your daughter had been struggling, and had gone to you for help. Apparently students had been hurting her, among other things, but according to this student you would not listen to her. She didn't dare try to go to you for help again, her only family, because she was scared what would happen to her if she did. Does that ring any bells, Severus?" Dumbledore asked grimly, not looking all to pleased at the potions master who was currently rethinking everything he had said and done in the last month.

"I would never...why would she think..." Snape was feeling something he didn't often feel. 

Remorse.

"I have to use your Floo." Snape said, looking towards the big fireplace across the room.

Dumbledore gave a gesture with his hand indicating he go ahead. Snape didn't wait a moment longer and threw the green powder against the brick floor of the heart.

"St Mungos!"

He landed elegantly at the hospitals fireplace and wasted no time walking up to the front desk.

"I am here to see Aurora Snape." he said clearly to the receptionist. She looked up at him and glanced back down at her papers.

"Name and relation to the patient." the witch asked.

"Severus Snape and I am her father." the witch looked through the papers once more and nodded.

"Room 394."

Snape turned and walked down the hallways, frantically looking for the room number. He didn't know what he would do when he got there, but he had to see her. Once he found the room he came to a stop, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down. After a moment he walked in.

She was lying on a white hospital bed, with potion bottles covering all surfaces. The only thing indicating that she was not dead was the slight rise and fall of her chest. Snape walked slowly over to the bed and looked down at his daughter. She looked so much younger when she was asleep. Sometimes he forgot she was only sixteen.

Her face was badly bruised, as were her arms and legs, but he presumed the damage was on the inside. He almost fell down into the chair by her bed, head in his hands. He didn't know what to do. His daughter was in the hospital, beaten within a brink of her life, and he had been partly to blame. He had ignored his daughter so much, that she no longer trusted him to help her, or to not do something awful in return. He looked back on the day she had come to him after class, wanting to speak with him. She had been so sad and he realized she had been scared. She had asked for help and he had ignored her. And all this for what? She didn't like men. That was probably for the better anyways. Snape wanted to kick himself for what he had done. He looked up at her and noticed the scar on her hand, the one reading 'I must not speak unless spoken too', but he also noticed other scars running up her arm, smaller ones. New ones. 

His heart sunk at the sight and he remembered back to the day one of the Gryffindor boys had called out to her in his class, telling her to jump out of the Astronomy Tower. Why had he let that slide. It was a cruel thing to say to someone, and he had let them speak to his daughter like that. To his Aurora. What would Aster say? She would hate him, most definitely. Hate him like Aurora was bound to hate him after what he had done. Aurora had been right when she had said Aster would have accepted her. She would have. He had been so angry that day. Angry and confused. He had never imagined Aurora would be anything but normal, and when something so controversial had involved her, he couldn't process it.

He had promised Aster before she died that he would take care of their daughter. Promised her that he would always be there for her and accept her for who she was, no matter what. Now he had broken that promise he had sworn to keep.