I am the bastard child of Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall.
Perhaps that was part of the reason I was so tempted to the dark side; I resented my parents. You see, rather than get married and give me some sort of respectability, they gave me up for adoption. The Snape family took me in and raised me, though hardly as their own. They were not pleasant people, and when I learned I was adopted, I transferred my ire to my natural parents for giving me to them. It took me a while to learn who they were, but when I found out, I went directly to Dumbledore's office and told him what I knew.
He's not a bad guy. Hell, he's an incredibly good guy, which made the whole thing even harder to take; if my real father had raised me, my childhood probably would have been happy. Mother's not exactly fun, but she's well-meaning. I think now that if they had it to do over again, they would have gotten married and raised me themselves, considering what happened to me.
They didn't at the time because they were too wrapped up in their neverending fight against the dark forces. I was born shortly after the anniversary of Father's defeat of Grindelwald. Apparently, he decided to commemorate the occasion with the other teachers, with a party involving various kinds of mixed drinks. They celebrated a bit too hard, and he and Mother (who, according to those who knew her then, was something of a dish in those days -- you'd never know it today) ended up in the Room of Requirement, going at it like crazed weasels. I was the natural result, and they decided that their careers were too great an impediment to keeping me. So they shipped me off to the first magical family they found who wanted a child.
I had so much anger and frustration boiling inside of me that when Lucius -- sweet, beautiful Lucius -- first tried to seduce me, I blew him off. (No, not THAT way.) Fortunately for me, he's sufficiently patient that he tried again, and the next time I gave myself up to the desire. It was easy enough from there for him to lead me down the dark path. I don't blame him -- I suppose in my heart, I still blame them. Perhaps they blame themselves...perhaps that's why they took me back into the fold so willingly. They needed to believe that I was redeemable.
Of the Death Eater tendencies, perhaps. Of the dark side of lust, never. I'll never go back from that. And now that I've achieved a lifelong dream, I think maybe the time to forgive my parents has come.
Father's party was rather a huge success. The students performed some kind of odd aerial tribute on brooms; I had to congratulate Rolanda, it was rather well done. There was much rejoicing...yay...and a fairly stupendous banquet. He seemed very pleased by it all and appeared quite amused when I presented him with the socks.
The students continued their partying indoors, while I slipped outside for a stroll with my adored nurse. I had actually stopped dead in my tracks when I first saw her, because she had her hair down and was dressed not in a nurse's uniform, but a robe of midnight blue. It was all I could do not to ravish her in front of everyone.
I did that later, but only after she said yes.
Out in the garden, I read my latest poem to her and she fairly swooned with delight. Then I pressed a little box into her hands and asked her what had been on my mind for weeks. Once she had answered in the affirmative and allowed me to put the ring on her soft, trembling little hand, we fairly ran back to the dungeon and lost no time celebrating on our own.
An hour or so later, when we were thoroughly dishevelled, she snuggled up in my arms and whispered the words I'd been waiting to hear all my life.
I love you, Severus.
Oh, there is no greater joy. There is no sweeter rapture than this, to be loved so exquisitely by so exquisite a creature. Should I die tomorrow, it will be with a smile on my face. Bliss, bliss, unimaginable bliss!
I should write another poem. But later -- some time ago I broke the news to my parents, and they have invited Poppy (precious jewel of my existence) and myself up to Father's office for a celebratory toast. They seem to approve, and why shouldn't they? The brightest flower of all Britain is to be their daughter.