Desperate Measures

“Oh, Curt! I’m almost done with these. Just give me two more minutes, love.”

“Hand him here,” Charlie said, tossing his quill down on the staff room table, where he and Hermione had been marking essays while the baby slept. “I’ll hold him ‘till you’re finished.”

“Thanks.” Hermione lifted the fussing baby from his basket and settled him in the crook of Charlie Weasley’s good arm. “It won’t take me long. I just need to finish marking this last essay. If I leave it undone now, I’ll probably forget to go back to it later.”

Charlie chuckled. “That doesn’t sound like the Hermione I used to know.”

“The Hermione you knew got eight hours of sleep every night and had nothing to think about but her job,” she retorted, giving Curt a meaningful nod. “Anyway, thanks for holding him for me.”

“S’alright. I hardly ever get to, you know? Usually I have to fight Minerva, Irma, and Rosa for a turn.”

Hermione giggled. “You’re forgetting Poppy and Albus. They’re just as bad. And Alastor even holds him now and again. You know, for a baby left on a doorstep, he certainly has a lot of adoring aunts and uncles.”

“True.” Charlie smiled and then turned his attention to Curt. He began babbling nonsense to him, much of it designed to tease Hermione, but the baby was entertained, appearing to examine with minute interest the red-haired stranger who was holding him.

“So, a goblin, a witch, and a hag walked into a bar…” Charlie began.

“That’s it!” Hermione exclaimed, laughing. “You’re not telling that joke to my baby.” She put her stack of parchments to one side and gave Charlie a look of exasperation.

“He doesn’t understand it,” Charlie said reasonably.

“I don’t care! Don’t you know any normal children’s stories? I know Molly didn’t talk to you like that when you were little.”

“No, but Dad did - when she wasn’t listening.” Charlie grinned unrepentantly and leaned down to stage-whisper to Curt, “Tell you later, little man. And the one about the twin Veelas, too.”

“Prat.” Hermione leaned back and stretched, wincing slightly as her spine popped several times. “I’m too young to be this creaky.”

“Working two jobs will do that to you,” Charlie said. “It’s getting easier, I hope.”

“Oh, yes. I still need about six more hours in every day, but it’s definitely easier than it was. And I wouldn’t trade back for anything.”

Charlie nodded. “I can tell. He shifted slightly and jiggled his arm when Curt began to fuss, succeeding momentarily in consoling him. “He sure is a cute little thing. Doesn’t look much like I’d expect a Snapelet to look.”

“I suppose he favours his mother,” Hermione replied, and then, realizing what Charlie had said, she raised her brows in surprise. “So who told you?”

“About him being Snape’s? Albus. He told me privately, and asked me to keep it to myself. I think he’s doing the same thing with all the staff. It’ll get out soon enough, he figures, and he wanted the teachers to know ahead of time. Damned amazing story, isn’t it?”

“Hmm.”

“Listen, Hermione…”

“Yes?”

“I don’t mean to pry, but…well, this is Snape’s baby. Are you…I mean, have you talked to him about this at all? Do you know what his plans for the kid might be?”

“No.” Hermione shook her head. “I don’t have any idea. I doubt he’s made any. He hasn’t seemed very interested. You notice that he’s never one of the ones asking to hold the baby.”

“Here, maybe you’d better take him.” Curt had begun to fuss again, so Charlie handed him over and then averted his eyes politely while Hermione situated the baby for nursing and covered him with a light blanket. “Why is that, do you think?”

“Why is what?”

“Snape. Why doesn’t he ever hold the baby?”

“How should I know?” Hermione said, shrugging slightly. “He’s Snape, Charlie. When has he ever liked children?”

“It’s different when it’s your own,” Charlie argued. “I didn’t care about kids one way or another until I had one. If I’d thought about it at all, I’d have said they were a bloody nuisance. Having Fred and George for younger brothers will do that to you, you know.”

Hermione laughed. “I suppose you’re right. But fatherhood doesn’t seem to have had much effect on Snape. He’s only held Curt once that I know of, and then it looked like someone had handed him something disagreeable and he was looking around for the rubbish bin so he could dispose of it. It was odd, though, because it seemed like he’d come to my office specifically to see him. It’s the only time I’ve known him to take any interest.”

Charlie shook his head at her. “You know, I don’t like Snape much more than you do. He’s never thought a lot of me or my family and never minded showing it. But I’m wondering if maybe you’re not being a little unfair to him in this thing.”

“What!” Hermione exclaimed, with so much violence that Curt was disturbed from his meal and she had to take a moment to redirect him. “Me! Unfair to him? Did one of those animals kick you in the head this morning? I’m the one who hasn’t gotten a night’s sleep in the last six weeks. I’m the one who is trying to teach and juggle a baby at the same time. I’m the one…”

“Whoa!” Charlie interrupted, laughing at her and pretending to shield his face with his arm. “I know what you’ve done, and I think it’s bloody fantastic. Everyone does. But you’re assuming that just because Snape hasn’tdone all those things that he doesn’t care about the baby at all. I’m not sure that’s fair.”

“Curt was left in his office, Charlie, and he couldn’t be bothered with him.”

“He didn’t know that Curt was his then though, did he? And you can hardly fault him for that, since it’s not like you have a 27-year-old babyshow up every day. Am I right?”

“I suppose,” Hermione said grudgingly. “But…”

“No, just hear me out, and then you can ignore the lot of it if you want to. Men - some men, the ones who aren’t like Harry, anyway - don’t always know right off what to do with a baby, especially a really new baby. They seem awfully breakable if you haven’t had any experience with them, and they cry at odd times over things that you can’t figure out and make the worst kinds of messes in their drawers and on your good shirts. It’s hard for a bloke to know what to do about all of that if he’s never had the chance to learn. I didn’t have as much problem with it as some men do because I was old enough by the time that Ron and Ginny came along that I picked up a few things just watching Mum with them, but even then, it didn’t come as naturally to me as it did to Elspeth. A man like Snape, who’s been a bachelor for all these years - well, can you really blame him for not knowing what to do with a baby?”

“I’m not blaming him for not knowing,” Hermione said. “I’m blaming him for not trying. Those are two completely different things. I didn’t know what I was doing either, but I didn’t have much choice but to go and learn.”

“Well, Snape has had a choice, because Curt’s pretty much been with you every minute since Snape learned the truth. I doubt he’s going to act like Minerva and Rosa and the rest and just snatch the baby out of your hands and start talking baby talk. It’s just not who he is.”

Hermione burst out laughing at the mental image and couldn’t help but agree. No, that wasn’t Snape’s style at all. “All right,” she said finally, “Supposing I concede that Snape might - for once - have an excuse for being thoroughly disagreeable. What do you propose I do about it?”

“I don’t know,” Charlie admitted. “Maybe just…help him along a little bit. See if you can give him some time with the baby when the rest of us aren’t right there watching. If he doesn’t have any interest then...well, you’ve got your answer.”

“But what if he does?” Hermione asked quietly. “What if he actually wants to…” She couldn’t even bring herself to say the words, but they’d haunted her ever since she learned the truth about Curt’s parentage. What if he takes him away? A man she’d never been able to bring herself to like had the power to take Curt away from her. The thought was completely terrifying.

Charlie gave her arm a gentle, sympathetic squeeze. “I don’t know, Hermione. You’ve found your way into the middle of a mess, and no two ways about it. But I can’t help but think you’ll be better off in the end if you try to get along with Snape. And maybe I’m just seeing his side a little better because I’m a Dad myself, and I can’t imagine what it would be like to have a kid I didn’t even know. Snape deserves a chance, at least.”

Hermione didn’t answer, and she found herself feeling rather uncharitable toward Charlie. Friends were supposed to support you, not point out ugly truths you didn’t want to face. And the ugly truth she was - reluctantly - facing was that she didn’t want too encourage Snape to take an interest in his child. She didn’t want to share Curt with anyone, but most particularly not with Severus Snape. She had, in fact, viewed Curt’s paternity as she might have viewed an unfortunate defect of birth; she loved him in spite of it and hoped it wouldn’t prove to be too great an obstacle for him to overcome later in life. But all that talk about Snape ‘not trying’ was really just so much nonsense. She didn’t want him to try and hadn’t given him the slightest chance to try. And damn Charlie Weasley for noticing and calling her on it!

“Well,” Charlie said, “think about it, at any rate.”

“I will,” she said, with ill grace. “I’ll…think about it.” She wouldn’t promise to do anything more.

 § § § §

“Professor?” Hermione tapped nervously at the open door to Snape’s private laboratory. She had never been there before but knew from her colleagues that it was the place Snape was most likely to be found after classes each afternoon. The room was slightly less off-putting than his office, if only because it contained rather less in the way of spare body parts and rather more in the way of heat. She credited the three simmering cauldrons for the latter and figured that if there were a way for Snape to boil somethingwithoutheat, he would probably do it, just to keep his surroundings as frigid and unpleasant as his person.

Snape was grimacing into one of the cauldrons, his hair lank against his perspiring forehead as steam rose and swirled around him. “Just a minute,” he said, keeping his attention rigidly focussed on the burbling contents of the cauldron. Hermione waited in silence, wondering what he was watching for but not daring to ask.

At length, the Potions Master hissed in irritation and extinguished the flames beneath the cauldron with the barest flick of his wand and no audible incantation. Hermione was vaguely impressed.

“Yes, Professor Granger?” he ground out, looking up from the abandoned potion and wiping away the damp hair clinging to his face with a sharp motion.

“I’m sorry,” she said, forcing herself to sound pleasant as she approached him. “I didn’t mean to intrude, but I…had a favour to ask.”

Snape gave her a tight smirk that said quite clearly that he was not surprised. “Well, ask it then,” he prompted sharply, when she didn’t immediately speak.

She took a deep, calming breath and hoped he wouldn’t notice. “I’ve been invited to a baby shower for Ginny Potter next weekend, and I’d rather not Apparate with Curt. Would you be willing to make up some formula for him so that I can leave him here?”

Snape’s eyes narrowed and he appeared to be looking for a loophole, but finally he nodded, once. “Fine. I’ll have it by the weekend.”

“Thank you. The shower’s at 1 o’clock on Saturday, so I’ll drop Curt by at around 12:30.”

Snape was caught too off-guard to mask his look of utter surprise, and in spite of her anxiety over the entire exchange, Hermione nearly laughed. The sight of Snape startled was rare indeed. She managed to keep her expression neutral, however, as she added, “He’ll probably sleep a good bit of the time.”

“Couldn’t Winky watch him?” Snape asked suspiciously.

“Of course. I can leave him with her if you’d rather.” Oh, please…please!She felt her nails digging into her palms and imagined that she could hear the pounding of her heart echoing from the dungeon walls as she watched Snape’s rigid face for some change…anything that would tell her what he had decided.

It seemed ages before he finally spoke. “That won’t be necessary,” he said stiffly. “I am…free on Saturday.”

She nodded and tried to look as though she weren’t fiercely disappointed by his answer. She believed she might murder Charlie Weasley when next she saw him. “Thank you,” she said, sounding anything but appreciative. “I’ll not disturb you further.”

“Good day, Professor Granger.” Snape nodded once and then turned his attention back to his ruined potion. She took the hint and left without further goodbyes.

That hadn’t gone at all as she’d hoped.

§ § § §

The following Saturday, she put Curt in his sling and then reached for the enormous changing bag. She had packed no fewer than six rompers and sleep suits of varying degrees of warmth and at least as many nappies, despite the fact that she would be gone only a few hours. She was practically nauseous at the thought of leaving him for the first time - and with Snape, of all people - and she couldn’t shake the mental image of that first day, when Snape had raised his wand to silence the crying. Surely, surely, he wouldn’t do anything like that now that he knew the child was his own. She repeated that to herself all the way to the dungeons but was still unconvinced as she raised her hand to knock at the door of Snape’s private chambers.

He opened it quickly and then stepped back, letting his eyes travel mockingly over her heavy load. “How long are you planning to be gone?”

“Probably about three hours,” she answered, shouldering her way through the door and lowering the bag to the floor as she glanced around his quarters. His sitting area was nearly twice as large as hers, but the ceilings in the dungeon were considerably lower, giving the room an almost cosy feel. A fire burned in the large fireplace, beside which two chairs were companionably situated. The one with the ottoman appeared well-used, the brown leather arms distressed by years of propped elbows and the seat sagging slightly on one side. The other looked nearly new. One corner of the room held a desk and bookshelves, and Hermione noticed piles of parchments, presumably in various stages of being marked. Most of the instructors did their marking in their offices or in the staff room, but remembering Snape’s office, she couldn’t blame him for retreating to more pleasant surroundings. And the room was reasonably pleasant, in a bare-bones, masculine sort of way. It was certainly more comfortable than she’d expected.

She realized that she was being nosy and dragged her attention back to Snape. “His clothes and things are in the bag,” she said, pointing. “I remembered how cold your office was and brought along some extra blankets, but this room seems warm enough, actually. He probably won’t need them. If you take him out anywhere, though, do wrap him up.”

Snape gave a brief nod and looked at her expectantly.

“I fed him just before we left, and it’s possible he won’t need to eat again until I get back. Just in case, however, I brought along some bottles. Did you make the formula?”

A glare. “I said I would.”

“Well, he’ll probably go down for his nap in about thirty minutes. You’ll know it’s time when he begins to get fussy. I usually just rock him for a few minutes and he drifts right off. Put him down on his back - he seems to prefer that, and the Muggle books I’ve read say it’s safest.”

“Why have you been reading Muggle baby books?”

“I’ve been reading all baby books,” she responded archly, “because I suddenly found myself taking care of a baby, and I wanted to know what I was doing.”

He cast his eyes to the ceiling. “Is that it?”

“No,” she said firmly, holding Curt a little tighter. Oh, she didn’t want to do this! “When he wakes up, he’ll want to eat. He gave Winky a little trouble the last time she tried to give him a bottle, but she kept at it and finally he gave in. If you can’t manage, you can contact me at The Burrow and I’ll come back to feed him.”

“I’ll manage. Is there anything else?”

“Just one thing.” Her eyes glinted with amusement. “Have you ever changed a nappy before?”

“Of course not, and I don’t intend to start now. I’ve made arrangements for Winky to assist should the need arise.”

She nodded, mentally giving him points for forethought. She was relieved, actually, to hear that he’d already spoken to Winky and that the house-elf would be on hand if he needed her. It was probably the thing that made it possible for her to actually hand the baby over.
 

Which she did.
 

Reluctantly.

“Really, Professor Granger. You act as though I’m going to pitch him into the fireplace,” Snape said scathingly, accepting Curt awkwardly and then supporting him with two hands.

“I’m sorry,” she said automatically, and then, “Er, if you could hold him a little closer…yes, like that. I think he feels a bit insecure when you dangle him in midair.”

“Point taken,” he said, pulling the baby closer, and she nodded and tried to ignore the pang she felt as she saw Curt settle more comfortably in his father’s arms. “Now be off. You’re annoying me.”

“Fine,” she snapped. “You know where you can reach me.”

“Yes.” He opened the door and gave her a pointed look, and she darted in to place one last kiss on Curt’s brow before taking her leave. Tears sprang to her eyes as the door closed behind her and she wanted to change her mind - to rush back in there and grab her baby aand take him with her.

But he’s not your baby, a disturbing voice whispered. She told the voice to shut the hell up, and then she made her way to the stables and forced herself to take the carriage into Hogsmeade. The ride seemed endless, with nothing to occupy her mind but thoughts of Curt.

The carriage took her through town and down the narrow side street where Charlie and Elspeth Weasley lived. She could hear shouts of laughter coming from behind the small cottage, so she bypassed the front door and headed toward the sound. Charlie and his young son Jack were both on brooms, Charlie hovering in midair and Jack darting amongst the upper limbs of a tree. Charlie was shouting encouragements which made no sense at all to Hermione, and she gasped when she saw Jack come close to falling off his broom when his jacket was snagged by a branch.

“All right there Jacky?” Charlie called, not sounding terribly concerned.

“Fine, Dad. I’ll get ‘im this time.” The boy bit his lip and aimed his broom at the tree again, and for a moment Hermione couldn’t see what he was about. Then he gave a triumphant shout and held up one hand, maintaining a tight grip on his broom with the other. At first, Hermione thought he had snapped a bundle of twigs from the tree, but as he made his descent to the sound of his father cheering, she noticed that whatever he held was wriggling and trying to get free.

“Look ‘Ermione!” Jack shouted. “I got him!”

Charlie turned and saw Hermione then, and he waved and then lowered his own broom to the ground. As soon as Jack landed, the small boy went running to Hermione with his arm outstretched to show off his prize.

“A Bowtruckle!” she exclaimed, attempting to infuse her voice with the proper admiration. “You caught that all by yourself?”

“All by myself,” he said, grinning. “No gloves, even.”

The Bowtruckle, by that time, was really quite put out. Normally peaceful unless their trees are somehow threatened, Bowtruckles rather seriously resent being snatched from their homes by 4-year-old boys, and this one was beginning to writhe and gnash in an attempt to express its displeasure to its captor.

“Brilliant, Jack,” Charlie said, beaming at his son. “But perhaps you’d better give him a toss now before he hurts someone.”

“Aw, Dad! Can’t I put him in a cage for a bit - just to watch him? Please!”

Charlie looked quite foolish with pride. “Go ahead then. Try not to lose a finger in the process. Your grandmother would skin me alive.” He turned to Hermione and jerked his thumb toward the back door whilst keeping one eye firmly on Jack as he wrestled the Bowtruckle into a cage. “El’s in the house - still getting ready, I think. You can go on in if you’d like. I’d better not leave him out here by himself.”

“No,” Hermione agreed, wincing as Jack narrowly missed being bitten. She entered Charlie’s little house and called hesitantly to Elspeth as she rather critically assessed the cluttered sitting room. Being fairly neat herself, she couldn’t imagine choosing to live in such disorder. The Burrow was cluttered too, of course, but the hodgepodge there somehow managed to come together to form something homey and comfortable. This was just a mess, with nowhere to sit down and toys strewn everywhere.

“Here,” Elspeth called, her voice getting closer as she continued to speak. “I’m just now ready. I’ve been out with the boys and had to clean up.”

She appeared in the doorway, smiling at Hermione, dressed in slim fitting Muggle trousers and a short jacket. Hermione was wearing robes and a cloak, as befitted a witches’ gathering of this sort, but she had only seen Elspeth in robes once, at Harry and Ginny’s wedding. Hermione wasn’t at all sure Elspeth hadn’t worn trousers to her own wedding. She was one of the Muggle-born witches who had simply refused to adopt the anachronistic dress code of the wizarding world, and indeed, she eschewed the trappings of femininity in the Muggle world as well. She kept her dark hair in a short, severe style, and when Ginny had asked her once why she didn’t wear it longer, Elspeth had replied simply that it wasn’t practical.

At the same time, she managed to be feminine, with a petite athletic frame and wide blue eyes framed by long black lashes. She was striking, even with no makeup or adornment other than her simple wedding band, and she gave the impression of concentrated energy, barely suppressed in her lithe form. Next to Elspeth, Hermione tended to feel hulking and out of shape, like a giant lumbering alongside a pixie.

“I saw the boys outside,” Hermione said, returning Elspeth’s smile. “Did you know Charlie was letting Jack catch a Bowtruckle?”

“Of course. I’m the one who set him on it.”

“Doesn’t that scare you?” Hermione asked, wondering how any mother could countenance letting a four-year old take such risks.

“Not in the least,” Elspeth said, sounding slightly defensive. “Any child of Charlie’s and mine is bound to be adventuresome. Jack’s not the kind of boy you can keep cooped up in the house, and I wouldn’t want to.”

“Well, he was certainly proud of himself.”

“Oh! He got it, then?” Elspeth hurried toward the door. “Blast! I knew I’d miss it. Did he keep it?”

Hermione laughed and followed. “He was putting it in a cage when I came in.”

“Mum! I got it!” Jack yelled, the minute they came outside. The “boys” by this time had returned to their brooms and were playing some form of improvised Quidditch. Charlie, Hermione noticed, was still brilliant on a broom, in spite of his injury, and Jack was already considerably better than she ever would be - not that she cared. Jack came to earth in a daredevil dive that made her gasp with fright while neither of his parents flickered an eyebrow. It began to dawn on her that one day Curt would be a four-year-old boy. She refused to consider that he might not still be hers then, but she also wasn’t sure she would be able to handle all this reckless, boyish exuberance.

Hermione stood by and watched while the freckle-faced boy showed off his most recent capture. Elspeth praised him generously, and then told him that it was time for her and Hermione to go. They stood long enough to watch Jack once again soar into the air, and then Hermione followed Elspeth back into the house so she could collect her gift.

“Thanks for going with me,” Elspeth said, as they prepared to leave. “It’s silly, I know, since we’re both Apparating, but sometimes facing Charlie’s family all in a great mass…well, I just prefer not to go it alone.”

Hermione laughed. “Well, they can be a bit overwhelming, I suppose, but they’re awfully nice, aren’t they? And they’re your family now too.”

“Oh, of course,” Elspeth said quickly. “I told you I was being silly. Forget it. Are you ready?”

“See you there,” Hermione said with a nod, and seconds later they were standing outside The Burrow.

Hermione rapped twice at the door and then turned the knob, accustomed from long habit to making herself at home amongst the Weasleys. Molly was right there to greet them, and Hermione was immediately swept into the familiar warmth she remembered from her school days. The men had been banished, and Molly hurried Hermione and Elspeth into the pleasantly chaotic kitchen where her daughter and her other daughters-in-law were all laughing and talking. Hermione was included as a member of the family, and she hardly noticed Elspeth fading quietly into the background and everyone asked about Curt and how Hermione was finding ‘motherhood.’ Curt was her favourite subject those days, but the questions were an uncomfortable reminder of the fact that she had left him - and with whom. She managed to deflect questions about his parentage, unsure of how much she was allowed to say, and instead talked of feedings and first smiles until Molly quietly pulled her aside.

“Charlie told us, dear,” she murmured. “We haven’t said anything to the others, but I just wanted you to know that Arthur and I have been thinking of you - hoping this situation works out. I can tell you love the little fellow, and it sounds like you’re doing a wonderful job with him. Perhaps Severus…”

“He’s watching him today,” Hermione put in quickly. “It was Charlie’s idea, and I could just strangle him for it now. I didn’t think Snape would really want to…but then he said he would, and - oh, Molly! I just never dreamed it would be this hard.” She’d been barely coherent, and she ended practically in tears, but Molly Weasley enfolded her in a comforting embrace.

“There, now,” Molly said. “I’m sure it’ll all be fine when you get back. The first time you leave a baby is always the hardest. I’ve been there before and I’ve watched my own daughter and daughters-in-law go through the same thing. It does get easier though, and by the time you have your third you won’t be able to leave ‘em fast enough or often enough to suit you. By the time you have your seventh, no one will be offering to keep them, so my advice is to enjoy it while you can.”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh a bit at that. “I’d be awfully surprised if I ever had seven children,” she said. “Right now, just taking care of one seems like a big job. But actually, the hard part isn’t that I’m leaving him…it’s that I’m leaving him with Snape.”

“I’m sure he’ll do just fine,” Molly said soothingly. “Men are capable of more than we give them credit for. They just have to be given a chance to prove themselves.” She put her arm around Hermione’s shoulders and gave her a maternal squeeze. She saw Hermione about to say something and interrupted. “I know. I know that’s not all you’re worrying about. You’re afraid of it going badly, but you’re even more afraid of it going well, aren’t you?”

“That’s it exactly,” Hermione admitted. “Molly, I just don’t know what I’d do if Snape ever tried to take him away from me. I didn’t know it was possible to love someone so much so fast.”

“Well, in that case, I think you’d be wise to try to get along with Severus. You were right to take Charlie’s advice today, dear. You’ll see.”

“You’re just saying that because he’s your son and you don’t want me to strangle him,” Hermione countered with a weak smile.

“Well, there’s a bit of that thrown in, yes,” Molly admitted with a laugh. “I’ve grown pretty fond of that one over the years. Now if it were Fred, I’d deliver him to you personally. Let me tell you what he did the other day - and him a grown man and a father! Honestly, Hermione, I begin to wonder if he and George will ever grow up.”

She warmed to her subject, gently leading Hermione back into the kitchen as she regaled her with a convoluted story involving Fred’s youngest child’s birthday party, a crate full of garden gnomes and some strategically placed filibuster fireworks. The other Weasley women contributed their versions of the tale, and Hermione was soon laughing so hard she had trouble catching her breath and almost - almost - forgot about how worried she was, which, of course, had been Molly’s goal all along.

Soon other guests arrived, old friends from Hogwarts and a few women she’d never met, and she subsided into a comfortable chair with a cup of tea and let the massively pregnant Ginny be the centre of attention.

She was seated next to Lavender Brown, and after a rather chilly exchange of pleasantries, she turned her attention elsewhere. She was surprised that Lavender had even been invited, since Ginny didn’t like her any better than Hermione did, but then she remembered that Lavender had recently been transferred to Arthur’s department at the Ministry and supposed that accounted for it.

Amid much laughter, Ginny was telling the assembly of the absolutelymiraculous potion for haemorrhoids she had discovered, and the look of horrified revulsion on Lavender’s face spoke volumes.

“Ugh,” she said to Hermione, in a low aside. “One would think that certain topics would be off-limits at a social gathering - even one taking placehere.”

Hermione was immediately annoyed; The Burrow was one of her favourite places, largely because people felt comfortable enough there to talk about anything at all. “She’s with her family and closest friends,” she defended.

Lavender rolled her eyes dramatically. “Well, it’s no wonder she's having those...problems - having one baby right after another like this. She still hasn’t even lost the weight from having Anna, you know, and now look at her.” She gestured at Ginny, who was marooned deep in the sofa, her hands resting on her enormous abdomen as she laughed with her friends. “She’ll be just like her mother one day - mark my words. A queue of children stretching out behind her and no waistline in sight. You know, you were really smart to just find one that no one else wanted.”

Hermione stared at the other woman, wishing desperately that her brain would supply her with a quick and cutting response but finding nothing but speechlessness. She’d lost count of how many people Lavender had insulted her few brief sentences, but she knew it was an impressive number and included the close relatives of Lavender’s own immediate supervisor. Finally she said, as coldly as possible, “Excuse me. I’m going to get some more tea.” She did get more tea, all the while promising herself that Ginny would hear every word that Lavender had just said, even if it wound up costing Lavender her job. When she returned to the party, she made a point of seating herself next to Elspeth, who was noticeably quiet in the spirited group, but at least she wasn’t unpleasant.

Even with her worry over Curt preying at the edges of her mind, Hermione found herself enjoying the shower. It was fun, actually, in a way that gatherings of women had never really been fun for her before. In school, when all the girls had talked about had been boys and clothes, she had thought them and their discussions silly in the extreme. Then everyone had begun pairing off and getting married, and again she had been on the periphery, with the occasional boyfriend but no one she ever cared enough about to marry. Now that she had Curt, she felt that she had been given a belated initiation to an exclusive club. She hung on Molly Weasley’s every word of wisdom and found that she had her own anecdotes to contribute to the inevitable discussions of baby and child care that went on as Ginny opened her gifts.

But despite the fact that she was having a wonderful time, a large part of her was anxious to get back to Curt to make sure that he and Severus were making out all right. Ginny had hardly finished unwrapping her gifts when Hermione whispered to Elspeth, “I think I’m going to go home now, but you’re welcome to stay, you know.”

“No,” Elspeth said quickly, setting her teacup aside. “I’ll go with you.”

“I know that look, my dear,” Molly said, eying Hermione with a conspiratorial smile. “Go on with you then. You’ll be miserable ‘til you’ve checked on him.”

“I’m sorry. Is it that obvious?”

“I’m afraid so, but we’ll not hold it against you as long as you promise to bring him here for a visit soon.” She turned to Elspeth. “We want to see more of you too, dear. Bring Jack by sometime this week. If you’d like, we can have lunch and then I’ll watch him while you take some time to yourself.”

“Thank you, Molly,” Elspeth said gratefully. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Molly gave each woman a quick hug, and then they went to take their leave of Ginny.

“Just don’t ask me to walk you to the door!” Ginny said warningly as they approached. “I think it just might take my husband and all of my brothers to drag me out of this sofa.”

Hermione and Elspeth both giggled. “It’s a deal,” Hermione said, stooping to hug Ginny’s neck.

“You’re welcome to Charlie if you need him,” Elspeth promised. “Jack, too, for that matter. He’d probably think it was great fun.”

“Lovely. Tug-of-war, with Aunt Ginny on one side and the entire Weasley clan on the other. The shame of it is that I just might win, even at that.”

“It’s not as bad as all that,” Hermione assured her, still laughing. “And the best part is that it’ll all be over soon.”

“Not soon enough for me,” Ginny grumbled. “Anyway, I’ll not keep you here listening to me complain when I know you want to get back to Curt. Do bring him ‘round soon though, all right? Harry would love to see you both, and Anna would think it was great fun. She thinks all babies are dolls for her to play with.” She caressed her tummy. “It’ll be an absolute miracle if this one survives it.”

“I’ll come soon,” Hermione promised. “But only if you’ll let me bring dinner. The house-elves at Hogwarts would be thrilled, and it would give you and Harry a break.”

“Come tomorrow then,” Ginny said quickly, grinning. “No, I know you can’t, but do make it soon. And when you do,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “I want to hear what nasty things Lavender was saying to you. Your face was a study, and I’ve a pretty good idea what it was about. I only invited her because Mum said I had to.”

“It didn’t bear repeating,” Hermione said dryly, “but I probably willtell you, just to get even. Isn’t that petty of me?”

“Oh, I adore petty people. The other kind are so tedious - always being noble and making me feel petty by comparison. Come to think of it,you’re usually like that. I wouldn’t miss the chance to hear you be petty for all the Galleons in Gringotts. It’ll more than balance out whatever Lavender had to say. ” She laughed and squeezed Hermione’s hand and then turned to her sister-in-law. “Elspeth, thanks for coming - really. I know you don’t normally go in for this sort of thing.”

“Oh, no! I enjoyed every minute,” Elspeth said, sounding a little embarrassed.

“Well, thanks.” Ginny didn’t sound terribly convinced and shot Hermione a glance that said as much, but she left it at that, and the two women were soon on their way back to Hogsmeade, with Hermione only stopping briefly on her way out to send her love to Ron via his wife Corinne, who had been a Ravenclaw in Ginny’s year.

The house was quiet when they Apparated back in, and Elspeth called to Charlie and got no answer. “They must be off somewhere exploring,” she said. “It’s Jack’s favourite thing. Like I said before, there’s no question that he’s ours. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if he grows up to be a dragon wrangler too.”

“Wouldn’t that scare you - after what happened to Charlie, I mean?”

“I’d go back to it in a minute if I could,” Elspeth said, by way of answer. “There’s risk in everything, you know. It’s all just a matter of degrees. The best way to cut down on the risk is to be prepared, to train and educate yourself, and then to go forward as carefully as you can. Still, things do happen of course, just like with Charlie, but if that’s the kind of work Jack wants to do, I wouldn’t even think of stopping him. I couldn’t bear the thought of him being stuck in some job he hated or not using the talents he was born with. It’s no way to live.”

Hermione found that she disagreed and thought that if she had anything to say about it, Curt would grow up loving the library, which was safe, so long as you stayed out of the Restricted Section and knew which books were charmed to bite or fly at your head when disturbed. There certainly would not be any dragons in his future, and had it not been for Elspeth’s quiet intensity and the spark of blue flame in her eyes as she spoke, Hermione might have thought the other woman callous or uncaring. That was impossible to believe, however, so she filed the conversation away for later consideration. She was very new to motherhood, after all, and it was simply too arrogant to think that her way was the best and only way.

Still, her silence spoke for her, if subtly, and there was a slight tension between them as Hermione departed and made her way back to her carriage.

§§§§

Of course, she hurried straight to the dungeons when she returned to Hogwarts, knocking softly at Snape’s door in case the baby was sleeping. She felt the first stirrings of concern when she got no answer, and that increased to outright panic when she found the door unlocked. It didn’t seem like Snape - quite possibly the most paranoid man she’’d ever met - to leave his quarters open.

She stopped short in utter surprise at the sight that greeted her in his sitting room. Snape was in the well-worn armchair in front of the fire with Curt cradled securely in his arms. He had shucked off his shoes and propped his stocking feet on an ottoman, and that alone made him seem undressed, in spite of the fact that he was attired in his everyday robes. His head was angled to one side, and Hermione felt a bizarre urge to brush away the hair that angled across his cheek. It had to be Poppy’s spell’s affect on her hormones, she decided, since the thought of voluntarily touching Snape would normally make her cringe. Or perhaps it was that in this light, she could see that his hair was exactly what Curt’s would be one day, and the silky-soft feel of Curt’s head had become so dear to her. She suppressed the urge to touch either of them and curled up in the opposite chair, watching two generations of Snapes sleep.

After perhaps ten minutes, Curt began to stir, and she realized he would soon awaken. She went and drew him carefully from Snape’s arms and then settled back in her chair to give him the feeding she knew he would immediately demand.

She nursed him on the first side, and then the soft fumbling as she moved him to the second breast proved enough to awaken Snape, who first stretched and then sat up with a violent start when he realized his arms were empty.

“He’s right here,” she said softly, and then she shifted slightly when she realized she hadn’t bothered to cover herself with a blanket. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

He sighed and closed his eyes in obvious relief. “Thank you, Professor Granger. So instead you decided to scare me to death.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, sincerely.

He gave her a sideways look but didn’t respond, and they sat quietly for a few moments. “I find I need some caffeine,” he said finally. “Would you care for a cup of tea?”

“No, thank you. I had several cups at the party. A glass of water would be nice though.” She didn’t add that nursing always made her thirsty. It seemed more than he needed to know, somehow.

He padded away and returned moments later with a steaming cup of tea and a glass of water, which he put on the table next to Hermione. She shifted again as he approached, making sure that the baby covered her completely, and this time he smirked at her.

“It’s not like I don’t know what you’re doing there, Professor Granger, and I would be surprised if you have anything I haven’t seen before. The sight of a witch nursing her baby is a common one in the wizarding world.”

She felt her cheeks grow warm at the ridicule even though it was, for him, remarkably gentle. “It’s not that uncommon in the Muggle world either,” she told him. “It just happened to me rather suddenly is all.”

“I know what you mean,” he said, and she regarded him carefully, surprised by the admission.

“So how did you two get on?” she asked, unable to contain her curiosity any longer.

“Perfectly. Mostly we both slept. I hadn’t intended to join him, but…” Snape shrugged and sipped his tea. “At least there were no nappies to change.”

“Did he cry at all?” Hermione felt slightly guilty as she realized that she’d wanted Curt to be at least a little miserable without her.

“No. I just rocked him for a few minutes and he fell asleep.”

“And then you fell asleep.”

“As you say.” He inclined his head slightly and then changed the subject. “How was your party?”

She doubted he really wanted to know, but she appreciated the opportunity to fill the silence since she wasn't yet in a position to jump up and leave. “It was fine, actually. I had a better time than I expected to. Saw all the Weasley girls and some of my former classmates.”

His only comment was a slight shudder.

Hermione laughed, feeling vaguely surprised that she was having a reasonably pleasant conversation with Snape. She was even feeling rather foolish about her dramatics on Molly Weasley’s shoulder. Surely Molly and Charlie had been right, and the best thing would be for her to learn to be civil with Snape. Sitting in his rooms in relative companionship, such a thing actually seemed like it might be possible.

Curt finished eating, pulled off the breast with a small pop, and then leaned back and stretched with an expression of perfect contentment. All of his expressions were beloved by Hermione for one reason or another, but this one was probably her favourite, and she didn’t even think to be embarrassed as she watched him with delight.

Snape actually chuckled. “I can’t remember the last meal I enjoyed that well.”

“Me either,” she said, shifting Curt so she could button up.

Snape stood and reached for his son. “Here. I’ll take him while you do that.”

“Thank you.” She noticed how much more confidently he held him and that he automatically pulled him close. He didn’t erupt into coos and babbling, but she’d have probably fainted if he had. Instead he sat down and looked into his son’s face, one corner of his mouth curving up slightly as Curt responded to the attention with a sudden grin.

“He’s so much fun now that he’s smiling,” Hermione ventured. “And that dimple - isn’t it adorable?”

Snape didn’t answer, and he had an odd, thoughtful look on his face as he ran his thumb gently over the baby’s right cheek where the dimple had appeared.

“Professor?”

“His mother…” Snape said quietly. “He got that from her.”

“Oh.” Hermione wasn’t sure what to say. She would have loved to ask a hundred questions about Diana Fletcher, but she had the feeling that probing into Snape’s adolescent romance would definitely violate whatever uneasy truce they had reached that afternoon. There was also something about watching Snape with his child - the child he had created with Diana - that gave her the unpleasant feeling of an outsider looking in. It was as if the three-way tie of blood in which she had no part suddenly had become a visible, tangible barrier. She could no longer pretend that Curt belonged exclusively to her. Not when he had Snape’s hair and Diana’s dimple and probably loads of other things that she couldn’t even identify because and she didn’t know enough about either of them. Snape’s ‘wet nurse’ comment echoed unpleasantly in her memory.

 “Er, we should probably get going,” Hermione said uneasily. “Minerva wasn’t able to go to the shower today, and I promised her a full report before dinner. She wants to hear all about how everyone is doing, and Molly sent some pictures of the grandchildren for me to share with her and Albus.”

Snape made a sound of disgust. “It truly pains me to think of how many Potters and Weasleys will be coming through this school in the next ten to fifteen years.”

“The first of the Weasley’s will be starting in three years,” Hermione confirmed. “Bill’s son. Molly mentioned it just today.”

“Thank you,” he said dryly, still looking at Curt. “With that much warning, I should have more than enough time to find other employment before the onslaught begins.”

He was clearly teasing, making a joke at her friends’ expense, but his words struck the breath from her chest. What if he really left? She stared at Curt, who was examining the angles and planes of his father’s face with interest and grasping in vain for a handful of the tempting black hair. She wanted to snatch him away and to flee Hogwarts, never to be seen again.

She stood abruptly. “We should go,” she repeated. “I’m sure you have other things you want to do.”

“Fine.” Snape rose and transferred Curt to her arms and then reached for her bag and handed that to her too.

“Thank you for watching him for me,” she said, putting slightly too much emphasis on the last two words.

“Yes, well, if there’s something you need to do next week…” He sounded casual, almost bored, but she noticed that he glanced away, letting the sweep of his hair hide his face from her view as he reached for the doorknob.

“No. I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” she answered firmly.

“Good day then, Professor Granger.”

“And to you, Professor Snape.”

§ § § §

She stopped halfway up the dungeon stairs and hugged her baby tight. “Oh Curt,” she murmured. “What did I just do?”

§§§§

When she arrived at dinner that night she saw Curt’s basket stationed just behind the seat next to Albus and realized that the Headmaster had saved that seat just for her. The student population was down, which was typical for a Hogsmeade Saturday since the third-years and above had all stuffed themselves full of sweets and butterbeer that afternoon. She would have preferred to eat quietly at one end of the table and then to slip away, but she knew that option was denied her and so she gave in with grace.

“Good evening, Albus,” she said pleasantly, sliding into her seat.

“Hermione! How was the party today? I want to hear all about it. Is Ginny well?”

She chuckled at his questions and relaxed as she settled Curt into the basket. “It was lovely, Albus. And Ginny is fine. She’s to the uncomfortable stage, I gather, but happy that it won’t be much longer. I had a nice chat with Molly and tried to keep all of her grandchildren straight but was completely unable. I brought back some pictures, but left them in Minerva's rooms. I'll try to show them to you tomorrow.”

“Now let’s see,” Albus began thoughtfully. “Bill married that Egyptian witch, and they have what? Two boys?”

“No, that’s George. He and Janet have two boys. Bill and his wife have a boy and a girl.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right. And then Percy…” the Headmaster went on like this for some time, determined to get it all straight, right down to Ron and Corinne’s daughter Ava, who would be the youngest until Harry and Ginny’s new baby was born.

Hermione had nearly finished her meal when Curt began to thrash irritably in his basket. She automatically put down her fork and reached for him, but Albus stayed her with a light touch to her arm. “Allow me, my dear.” He picked the baby up and babbled to him unselfconsciously for a moment before stepping down to the other end of the table and handing him to Snape. “Do you mind, Severus? Hermione is still finishing her dinner.”

Snape didn’t respond verbally, but he accepted delivery of his son and tucked him into the crook of one arm.

“You did a good thing today, Hermione,” Albus said quietly as he returned to his seat. “A very good thing. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

“No, it wasn’t,” she said, feeling the guilt wash over her as she accepted praise she knew she didn’t deserve. She put down her fork, suddenly disinterested in finishing her meal. “He said something - jokingly - about leaving Hogwarts before the new generation of Weasleys arrived. I practically snatched Curt away from him and ran from the room. Albus, what if…?”

“I don’t know,” Albus admitted. “I simply don’t know. This is a terribly complicated situation, and it is my great hope that it will be resolved with a single goal in mind, and that is providing the best possible upbringing for this child. Would you not agree?”

“Well of course, but…” She trailed off when she realized that she had no proper end to her sentence. How could she argue that the child would be better off not knowing his father? That might have been true thirty years ago, when Snape was bound to Voldemort, but it certainly wasn’t true now. To assert otherwise would only show how insecure she was feeling.

“I want you to know,” Dumbledore said gently, reaching for her arm, “that I do recognize the claim you have on Curt. Severus has bonds of blood, and those can’t be denied, but neither can the bonds of love and nurture that you have forged. Let your love for him be your guide in this. If you do, I think you’ll want to do all you can to encourage Severus to know his child. Don’t let your fears deny him his son or the son his father.”

She nodded miserably, and he patted her hand. The students had begun to file out, and she pushed back her chair. “I should probably go,” she said. “He’ll be getting hungry soon.”

“Have a good evening, then. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Snape was amusing Curt by letting him hold his spoon. He wasn’t laughing or babbling to him, but he certainly was paying attention, looking at him seriously as he had back in his rooms. Normally the other witches at the table would have fought for a chance to hold the baby, but this night they pretended as if Snape and Curt weren’t there, calling no attention to the fact that Severus Snape was doing something as uncharacteristic as playing with a baby.

“He’ll need to eat soon,” Hermione said, approaching them quietly. “We should probably go.”

Snape nodded but didn’t immediately hand the child over.

“Professor?”

“Yes?” He looked up at her then, his face the same cold mask it had been when she had left his rooms.

“It occurred to me that there are some things I’d like to do next Saturday. Would you be willing to watch Curt again?”

Please say no!

“Of course. Just let me know what time.” He spoke in his usual smooth, distant tones, but she could have sworn he almost smiled before he swiftly checked the errant impulse.

“I will. Thank you. And thank you again for today.”

“There is no need for thanks,” he said, rising and preparing to leave. “I am his father.” He gave her a brisk nod and swept away, his final words ringing in her ears.