Desperate Measures

"Guess what?" Charlie exclaimed, as soon as he was close enough to the High Table to make himself heard over the noise of the incoming students.

"Ginny had her baby!" Hermione guessed, as Charlie dropped into his usual seat beside her.

"Spoilsport," he complained, giving her a mock glare. "Yep - another girl. Ella Rose. Harry's strutting around like he personally invented procreation."

Hermione laughed at that. "He was that way after Anna, too. Is he at all disappointed it wasn't a boy?"

"I don't think so," Charlie said, shaking his head. "In fact, Ron told me Harry didn't want any boys. Said it would be too hard on any boy to be Harry Potter's son."

"Might not be any easier on the girls," Hermione pointed out.

"Might not," Charlie agreed. "I suppose they'll have to find a way to deal with it though."

"Do you think they'll have any more children?"

"Haven't heard either of them say, and I try not to ask about things like that. It reminds me that Harry's shagging my baby sister."

"Oh, grow up!" Hermione laughed and punched Charlie lightly in the arm. "So, is Ginny all right?"

"Yeah. Tired, of course, but she and the baby are both doing well. Should be home tomorrow."

"That's wonderful," Hermione said with a smile. "I'll owl her tonight. I feel badly that I never made it to their place for a visit. I'll definitely try to get there soon to see the baby. When do you think she might feel up to visitors?"

Charlie looked at her incredulously. "Are you kidding? With a family like ours, it'll be a madhouse there for weeks with people dropping in and out. Go whenever you feel like it. You're practically family anyway, and she'd love to see you."

"Thanks, Charlie. That's nice to hear." She paused for a moment as their plates filled with food and then resumed after taking her first bite. "Well, maybe I'll be able to drop by this weekend. Severus will have Curt again on Saturday."

Charlie looked at her more carefully and lowered his voice. "So how's that going, then?"

Hermione shrugged. "They survived last Saturday, even though Curt didn't want to take the bottle. Severus seems to want to keep seeing him, and he and I got on all right - better than last time, anyway."

"It's the first time I've ever heard you call him 'Severus,'" Charlie pointed out.

She sighed. "I'm trying."

"Is it so hard?"

"No. It's just more...complicated, I suppose. It would be so much simpler if Snape weren't involved."

"Curt wouldn't exist if Snape weren't involved," Charlie said reasonably.

"Are you trying to irritate me?"

Charlie laughed. "A little. But I won't do it anymore." He turned away from her then and spoke down the table. "Listen everybody! Ginny had her baby last night."

A chorus of exclamations greeted this announcement, and as Charlie provided the pertinent information about the newest Potter for Harry and Ginny's fond former-teachers, Hermione saw Snape roll his eyes. She almost laughed.

She was peeking at Curt, who was sleeping soundly in his basket behind her chair, when one of the heavy double-doors to the Great Hall opened with a bang and an old man entered. He had flowing iron-grey hair topped by a slightly crooked wizard's hat, and Hermione thought she knew him, but she couldn't immediately put a name to the weathered face. The Great Hall fell silent as the students sized up the new arrival, who paid them no heed as he stumped his way toward the High Table. Out of the corner of one eye, she saw Albus and Minerva rise.

"Albus," the man said gruffly, when he'd come close enough to speak. "Minerva."

"Almerick, it's good to see you," Dumbledore answered pleasantly. "I do hope you'll join us for lunch."

"No, thank you, Albus." He lowered his voice slightly, so that it was out of the students' range. "I'm sure you know why I've come."

"Some tea then, perhaps," Dumbledore said genially, as if he hadn't heard the last. He conjured a cup and an extra chair, and Minerva scooted down to make room for Almerick Fletcher to sit between them. "You take sugar, don't you?"

Fletcher sighed, acknowledging the defeat that came to nearly everyone in the face of Dumbledore's relentless hospitality. "Fine," he said shortly, and then he turned and made his way around the table. Hermione was seated at the end, and Fletcher halted as his eyes fell on the basket situated just behind her. Some instinct drove her to move toward the baby when she saw the man's interest; she watched him warily as her hands fluttered over Curt's sleeping form.

"Sweet Merlin," Fletcher breathed. "There's no question. No question at all." He reached to touch the baby's face, and Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Hermione will join us in my office after lunch," the Headmaster said firmly. "In the meantime, we'll all be able to enjoy our meal better if Curt is not awakened."

"Curt, eh?" Fletcher muttered, but after one last look into the basket, he heeded Dumbledore's warning and moved to take his seat at the centre of the table. Only then did Hermione remember to breathe, and somehow, contrary to every instinct she thought she possessed, her eyes sought Snape's at the opposite end of the table. She found no comfort there; his black eyes were narrowed as they met hers, and he looked as wary as she felt. She put down her fork, her appetite gone.

"What now?" Charlie whispered.

"How should I know?" she hissed back. "I suppose I'll find out in the Headmaster's office." She made a noise of frustration and pushed back her chair. "I'd better make some arrangements for my next class."

Dumbledore turned and caught her eye when he saw her standing, and she nodded at him: She would be there. She gathered Curt carefully, pausing as he stretched and his eyes opened to slits before he settled back against her and fell once again into a deep sleep.

§ § § §
 

They were waiting for her when she arrived. Almerick Fletcher and Dumbledore were sitting around the small circular table with steaming cups of tea before them. Only Dumbledore's cup appeared to have been touched, and the crumbs on the table evidenced the fact that he'd been enjoying biscuits as well. With a sweet tooth like that, Hermione often thought it was a wonder the man didn't need a levitation charm to get out of bed in the morning. There was a third cup on the table, but Snape was at the window, one shoulder braced against the wall, staring out at the Hogwarts quad with a degree of interest it seldom warranted..

He didn't turn as she entered or give any other sign that he was aware of her arrival, but Albus and Almerick Fletcher immediately rose.

"Hermione," Albus said, "thank you so much for coming. Al, have you and Professor Granger met before?"

"Once or twice, I think, back during the war," Fletcher answered, offering his hand. Hermione took it somewhat gracelessly, since Curt was still sleeping in her arms. "Professor Granger."

"Mr. Fletcher," she answered. "It's nice to see you again." Well, that was rather a lie, but one had to say something in such situations.

"Rumour has it that's my nephew you're holding," Fletcher said bluntly, glancing accusingly in Dumbledore's direction. "I'd like to see him, if you please."

Her eyes darted to Snape's rigid form and then to Dumbledore, searching for...something. She wasn't sure exactly what. Snape's expression was hidden by the sweep of black hair against his face, and he never turned from his place at the window. Albus looked rather grave, but he gave her a slight nod, so she handed Curt over to his great-uncle and watched as the older man gathered him awkwardly into his arms. She held her breath for a moment to see if the child would awaken; he was in the middle of what was usually his longest nap of the day, and she had every hope that he would simply sleep through this entire meeting. As he had in the Great Hall, he stirred slightly but then relaxed back into sleep as his uncle turned away from the assembly to examine him in some privacy.

After a long and uncomfortable silence, in which Hermione and Dumbledore continued to stand and watch Almerick Fletcher's back, the man cleared his throat slightly and spoke. "He is very like Diana as an infant. None of you knew her then, of course, but there is a marked resemblance. I could show you some pictures..."

Dumbledore interrupted. "There's no need for that - unless, of course, Severus would like to have some to show the child when he is older. But I don't think there's any need to prove anything. I can think of no reason to doubt the testimony of the house-elf who brought the child here."

"He's been given clothes," Fletcher said harshly, wheeling around to face them with a furious glare. "This child should never have been brought to Hogwarts. The very idea that a trusted family servant would betray his mistress in such a way…he confessed, eventually - you know how house-elves are - and Sylvia contacted me immediately. Sylvia is not well, as you may know, and when she heard of it...well, that's why I'm here. This child is a Fletcher, Albus. He belongs with us."

Snape looked away from the window for the first time since Hermione had entered the room, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed to dark slits as he gazed on Almerick Fletcher, but he remained silent.

"The child is as much a Snape as he is a Fletcher," Albus pointed out.

"I would say that Diana made her feelings about Snape perfectly clear."

"I agree," Albus said heavily. "Though I cannot admire her methods, it seems obvious that she had every intention of keeping the child from Severus. And she succeeded - for nearly thirty years."

"How dare you speak ill of that poor girl?" Fletcher snapped. "You knew her, Albus. You know how bright she was...how devoted she was to the Order. You know how hard she fought for us - for everything we believed in. And all while he...." He turned and glared at Snape, who glared back, stone-faced and silent.

"Diana was a wonderful girl, Al," Albus said soothingly. "We all grieved her death, not least Severus Snape."

"My brother blamed me," Fletcher said, his voice quiet and menacing as he turned to Snape for the first time. "He blamed me for her involvement in the war. I tried to tell him that I'd never encouraged her...that I didn't know what it was that drove her to join us, to take such risks. I know now, though, don't I? You killed her, Snape, just as surely as if your wand had been the one that cast the curse - and for all I know, it was, regardless of what you said at the time. But you and I both know she'd never have been there at all if it hadn't been for you. I don't care what you did later or how thoroughly you might have changed your stripes - nothing you've done can make up for the death of that girl. Nothing can make up for the fact that this child will never know his mother."

"That's enough," Dumbledore said firmly, putting himself between Fletcher and Snape, who was maintaining an inhuman stillness, as if he'd drawn into himself leaving nothing visible but a hard shell. "Diana's death was due to a combination of factors that must include her own choices and Voldemort himself. I will not stand by and let you heap all the blame on Severus. There is no point to any of that now.”

"Oh, there's a point, all right,” Fletcher said, his voice rising slightly. “The point is that he has no right to raise Diana's child. He gave up his rights when he chose Voldemort over her. Now I'm here to see that Diana's wishes are carried out. This child should be raised by her family."

Snape stirred slightly at that, and Hermione watched him carefully, hoping that he would speak up. For the first time ever, she wanted Snape to assert his rights as the child's father at the top of his lungs, but he remained silent, and she felt her chest tighten.

"You said that Sylvia isn't well," Albus said. "Surely you can’t be suggesting that you…?"

"Of course not. Sylvia has a niece - a bright young witch with a family of her own. She and her husband have agreed to take the child. Sylvia could see him as often as she likes, and he’d have a real family - mother, father, siblings - opportunities Snape can begin to offer him.”

They were talking about Snape as if he weren’t there, Hermione realized, and indeed, it almost seemed that he wasn’t. He had broken out in a fine sweat; she could see the faint sheen of his brow glistening in the afternoon sunlight that was just beginning to slant through the tower window. She kept waiting for him to slice into Almerick Fletcher with his lethal tongue, to tower over him with his dark, intimidating presence and to let him know in no uncertain terms that Marcus Curtius Snape had every reason to be at Hogwarts and not in the home of these cousins, whoever they might be. Instead, he remained silent.

“Albus,” Hermione said, knowing it wasn’t her place to intervene but feeling she had to say something, since Snape wouldn’t. “He has no right…”

“No right?” Fletcher repeated incredulously. “And what right do you have in this situation, Professor Granger? What have you to do with this at all?”

“I’ve been caring for Curt since he came to Hogwarts,” she snapped. “I think I’ve earned the right to have some say in what happens to him.”

“I’m sorry, Professor, but I don’t agree, and neither would any court in the land.” Fletcher paused and then tempered his tones slightly. “Please don’t misunderstand. I appreciate what you’ve done for him, and so will his grandmother, when she hears of it, but it doesn’t change the fact that he belongs with his own people - people who can give him the kind of life that Diana would have wanted for him.”

“I doubt that any court would remove the child from his father’s custody, either,” Dumbledore said carefully. “I do hope you wouldn’t really consider letting this matter go that far.”

“I hope I won’t have to,” Fletcher answered. “A really caring father,” he paused and let his gaze fall on Snape, “would want what was best for his child without having to hear it from a magistrate.”

Into the brief silence that followed this pronouncement, Snape finally spoke. “I will consider your…offer, Mr Fletcher.” His voice was a soft monotone, barely above a whisper, and directed once again at the diamond panes of the window. “In the meantime, I would appreciate it very much if you would give my son back to Professor Granger. I think we have detained them long enough.”

Hermione started toward Fletcher with her arms outstretched, leaving no doubt that she intended to see Snape’s request carried out. Fletcher allowed her to take Curt, giving the sleeping child one last, long look before handing him over. “I’ll expect an owl about this soon, Albus,” he said, turning to Dumbledore and ignoring Snape once again. “We won’t give up on this boy. Sylvia is beside herself over this whole thing, and you know how fragile she is. You just have no idea what this means to us…after all these years…”

“I think we understand your position perfectly, Almerick,” Albus said gravely. “And yes, I will owl you soon.”

“Very well, then.” Fletcher nodded sharply, nearly upsetting his pointed hat. “Professor Granger…Snape.” With that he turned and left, and as the door to Albus’s office closed behind him, Hermione felt herself relax slightly.

“Albus!” she exclaimed, whirling on Dumbledore. “You’re not really going to let him…”

The Headmaster held up a gnarled hand. “There was no point in pursuing the conversation any further at this time, Hermione. Almerick stated his case. It will now be up to Severus to determine its merits.”

“It’s merits! But..."

“I believe you have a class right now, Hermione, do you not?” Dumbledore looked unusually weary.

“Albus, you’re not really going to let that horrid old man stomp in here and just…well, it’s ridiculous, that’s all.”

“Thank you, Professor Granger,” Dumbledore said sternly. “That will be all for now.”

Hermione glared at the Headmaster and then at Snape, who in her opinion had acted as spineless as a flobberworm throughout, but she didn’t dare argue with Dumbledore any further. She clutched Curt tightly to her chest and then stalked out of the office, wondering how on earth she was supposed to focus her attention on anything as trivial as charms.

§ § § §
 

The tension in the room subsided another notch once Hermione had stormed out, and for a moment the two men were still, letting the silence have its say. And then Snape moved, slumping forward and putting his face in his hands, grinding the heels into his eye sockets until colours exploded behind the lids and he felt the pain sharpen into points.

“Severus,” Dumbledore said quietly, moving to place his hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

Snape shrugged him off and let his hands fall away from his eyes. “Save it, Albus. I’m in no mood for your fatherly concern.”

“Really? I’ve been practicing.”

Snape groaned, and then, softly, “On second thought, a little omniscience might not come amiss.”

“I’m sorry, Severus. Even if I wanted to, I don’t believe I could advise you on this. This is too…personal. Too permanent. I can’t tell you what to do, but I do want you to know that I’ll think no less of you, whatever you decide.”

Snape looked up then - looked at the Headmaster in obvious surprise. “Even if I gave the child to the Fletchers?”

“I know the family he was speaking of. Charlotte and Alistair Simpson. You taught them both some years back. Her name was Charlotte Mercer back then.”

“I remember her. I didn’t know she was Diana’s cousin.”

“Yes, on Sylvia’s side, as Almerick said. They’re good people. They would give him a good life.”

“So you think I should give him away?” Snape asked. It was barely a question.

“I think you should decide what is best for your child - and for yourself - and you should at least consider what Almerick had to say, regardless of how he said it. On the other hand…what do you want, Severus? Do you want to raise the child?”

“What I want,” Snape said slowly, “is for none of this ever to have happened. I want to go back to the way things were before I even knew he existed.” He looked up at Albus, his face twisted in a bitter smile. “An attractive admission, is it not? I wish my own child back into some mouldy cupboard; I’m certain to win Father of the Year. Of course, his mother is the one who put him there in the first place. He was fortunate in his parents, was he not?”

“He was born in a difficult time,” Dumbledore said carefully, resuming his seat and refilling his teacup with a wave of one hand. “You and Diana were not the only ones who made decisions then that in hindsight seem…”

“Criminally stupid?” Snape supplied, following the Headmaster to the table and taking the seat opposite him.

“I was going to say ‘unfortunate’.”

Snape snorted. “I so seldom have the opportunity to accuse you of understatement.”

“I attempt it occasionally, in a good cause.”

“And the cause in this case is…?”

Dumbledore sighed. “The cause is you not wasting time blaming yourself for things it’s too late to change. Diana is gone, and that is truly a tragedy. She was a bright, lovely girl, and I have no doubt she’d have made a wonderful mother to Curt. But she is gone and Curt has one remaining parent; like it or not, Severus, you’re it.”

“You know, I realized as Fletcher was talking that they were right to give that blasted house-elf clothes. What was he thinking, Albus? What could have possessed him to bring the child to me?”

Dumbledore shook his head. “I’m not entirely sure. He otherwise seems to have been very loyal to the family. I do know that house-elves have a strong bond with their own young. Perhaps he simply felt you had the greater claim. As it happens, I agree with him.”

“So you think I should keep him?”

Albus looked down at his teacup. “I would like to have had a child,” he said softly. “I say that every child who has come through here is like my own, but that’s not true, of course. Often, after a few years have gone by and they've scattered to the four winds, I have trouble even remembering their names. It's not at all the same as having a child of one's own. I would have liked to have experienced the real thing.” The blue eyes looked up then and met Snape’s dark ones. “Curt is a fine boy, Severus. If I were in your shoes, I would find it hard to give him up. It is, in part, why I cannot possibly advise you in this."

"Everything Fletcher said was true," Snape said slowly, staring down at his cold tea. "Everything he said I did - and didn't do. If I were to keep him, the day would come when I would have to face my son and tell him the part I played in his mother's death. He would find out...everything."

"Yes," Dumbledore said, with a devastating simplicity. "He probably would."

Snape nodded but didn't respond. Couldn't respond as that imaginary conversation played itself out in his head. He hadn't let himself think of it before, but now he realized that it was his biggest obstacle as a father. Whatever he did - however many times he let the little urchin spit up on him, whatever he might teach him down the years, whatever relationship they might forge - the day would come when he would have to look into those dark eyes, so like his own, and admit that he was the reason the boy would never know his mother. Whatever portion of the guilt Diana should rightfully share was his now - a part of her twisted legacy to him.

"Have you forgiven your father?" Dumbledore asked, breaking the silence.

"What?"

"Your father hand-delivered you to Voldemort. Have you forgiven him for that?"

"I..." Snape licked dry lips and tried to formulate a proper response.Had he forgiven his father? "I'm not sure," he said finally. "I don't know if I forgave him as much as I just reached a point where anger seemed pointless. Whatever his sins were, he surely paid for them in Azkaban."

"And whatever your sins were, they have been paid for many times over. I think that Curt will one day be old enough to appreciate that, when he hears the whole story. He will be old enough to balance the good things he knows about his father with the things you'd rather not have to tell him. He might even learn something from your mistakes, as you certainly have learned from your own father's mistakes. I will understand if you don't feel up to parenting such a small child on your own. I will even understand if you want things for him - things like brothers and sisters and a more traditional home life than he can have here at Hogwarts. But I would be most distressed to think that you gave up your child because you felt unworthy of him. Nothing could be further from the truth."

Snape snorted. "What if the answer is 'all of the above'? It is quite clear that I have virtually nothing to offer him. I'm obviously not up to parenting by myself...I've spent a total of four or five hours with the child since he got here, and he slept through most of those. I certainly can't offer him the kind of home life a child should have: I am not about to exchange my dungeon quarters for a sunny cottage with a picket fence. Can you picture me in a sunny cottage?"

Dumbledore gave him a small, sad smile. "I confess that I cannot."

"Of course you can't. The very thought is ludicrous. Almost as ludicrous as the thought of me raising a child." Snape tried for his usual smooth tones, but he came out sounding bitter, even to his own ears.

"There is one thing we haven't discussed, Severus. Another possibility."

"Granger, you mean."

"Of course. She loves him, you know - loves him as her own. I can assure you that if you were to allow the Simpsons to adopt, Hermione would be devastated. But if Hermione keeps the lad, he'll be close enough that you can maintain some contact. It might be an ideal solution."

"I've thought of that - of course," Snape said slowly. "She's made it quite clear that she views the child as her own. But..."

"But what?"

"One of us would have to leave here. I think maintaining 'some contact' would be worse than if I had no contact at all. It would be...too confusing."

"Children are more flexible than you give them credit for. Curt would never know anything different."

"I wasn't talking about the child."

A silence followed this revelation. "I should hate to lose Hermione," Albus said finally. "But there is no question that she would choose Curt over her job."

"I'm flattered," Snape said dryly.

"This has been your home for many years, Severus. As I told you when I asked you to fill the position of Assistant Headmaster, I think that you have a rightful place in Hogwarts' future, if only I can get you to take it. Hermione has not yet been here long enough for me to feel that way about her. She is a wonderful girl, and talented. There are other places that can use her skills."

Snape sighed and fingered his teacup. "Thank you, Albus. You've muddied the waters for me quite thoroughly."

"I fear there is no perfect solution this time. Certainly, there is no way to please all of the adults who have an interest in Curt's welfare. That being the case, I would recommend that you do what you feel is best for the child, without consideration for the adults."

"And what if I don't happen to have the first bloody idea what's best for the child?" Snape demanded, pushing the teacup away in a sudden flash of anger. "I didn't choose to be in this situation, Albus. I'm in no way qualified to make this decision."

 "Too bad," Dumbledore said firmly, waving away the tea that had sloshed over the side of Snape's cup and puddled on the table. "Like it or not, this is a responsibility you'll not be able to avoid. Whether or not you chose it is simply irrelevant. You of all people should realize that. There may not be a perfect solution, but it is equally possible that there isn't a wholly wrong one either. As I said before, children are flexible, and Curt will probably thrive in the care of anyone who loves him. And that includesyou, my friend."

§ § § §
 

"And he just stood there, not saying anything, whilst this madman talked about taking Curt away and giving him to total strangers. He barely spoke two words the entire time that horrible Fletcher person was in the room. What's the matter with him, anyway?" Hermione, too worked up to keep her seat, was parading up and down in front of Minerva's fireplace as she railed against Snape.

"I'm rather wondering what's the matter with you," Minerva said sharply.

"Wha-?" Hermione stopped and looked at her friend, astonished.

"You heard me, my dear. I'm wondering when you lost your considerable good sense. I'd be far more tempted to support you in this if you'd make some effort to see sides of it other than your own."

"You mean you don't support me?" Hermione said, clearly angry.

"I don't think that the possession of a functioning set of mammary glands grants you exclusive custody of someone else's child. It's high time you realized that and began accepting the fact that there are other people who care about Curt. His father, for one. And yes, Almerick Fletcher for another. He certainly is not a 'madman'. He's a hero of two wars who has sacrificed a great deal. I don't happen to agree with him about Severus, but I am able to understand his perspective in this. Poor Sylvia, too. She was a Gryffindor, you know - one of my own housemates. She's a lovely woman who's lost her daughter and her husband and now has discovered a grandchild she didn't know she had. Should she be expected to give up all hope of knowing him, just because you happened to be there when her house-elf made a delivery?"

"I'm not listening to this," Hermione snapped, stepping toward Curt, who was asleep in his basket.

"Oh yes you are," Minerva said with an edge to her voice that Hermione hadn't heard since she was a student, caught at something she shouldn't have been doing. An ingrained habit of obedience to her head of house made her stop short. "I don't expect you to thank me for it, but I do expect you to listen. What you do with the information is up to you, but I'm telling you that if you don't find some way to work with Severus on this instead of against him, you will almost certainly lose Curt." Her voice softened slightly. "I know that you love him, Hermione, and everyone here thinks you're wonderful for him, but you can't make yours the only love that's available to him. You can't try to keep him from his father, his mother's family. You can't pretend that these people don't exist."

"I've been trying to work with Severus," Hermione argued. "I truly have. Curt's been with Severus the last two Saturdays. He's going to stay with him this Saturday as well."

Minerva pursed her lips, clearly unimpressed. "It's a start," she said grudgingly. "Now if you could share him with a little more enthusiasm and a lot less resentment, we might begin to actually get somewhere."

"You're asking a lot," Hermione said. "Curt's the most precious thing in the world to me. You know that. And it's not like Snape's ever done anything that would make me want to share anything with him, let alone something that means as much as Curt."

"Curt's not a 'thing' my dear."

"Well, I know that," Hermione said, exasperated. "I didn't mean it that way."

"I'm not so sure. You act as though Curt were something you could own...possess. He's not. He's a human being, and like all human beings, he's capable of loving more than one person."

"I know," Hermione said, "but Snape has the power to take Curt completely away from me - to give him to these Fletchers or to take him away somewhere where I'll never see him again. How do I know he won't do it? He's never liked me, you know. How do I know he won't do it just to get back at me for being Harry's friend or for stealing potions ingredients when I was twelve? I wouldn't put it past him. If it were anyone but Snape..."

"It's high time you quit seeing him through a child's eyes, Hermione. Severus is difficult - no one could deny that - but he's not quite so petty as you think he is. I hardly think he'd ruin his own child's life over an illicit batch of Polyjuice. You'd do well to remember that there are at least two sides to every story, and in this case, there are considerably more than that."

"Maybe so, but how am I supposed to change my opinion of him from the one I formed when I was eleven if he never shows me any other side of himself but the one I saw then? I said as much to him on Saturday."

Minerva hooted at that. "Oh, to have been a fly on the wall."

"It was a fairly pleasant conversation, actually, but my point is valid."

"Look at this child, Hermione." Minerva placed her hand lightly at the edge of Curt's basket. "He favours Diana, but I see more of Severus in him every day. The eyes and hair, of course, but also certain expressions, things you might not see because you haven't known Severus as long as I have. This child is all the evidence you need that there is another side to Severus Snape. I remember the boy he was when Curt was conceived. He was completely foolish over Diana, though of course he tried to hide it. He had a sharp edge to his tongue even then, but it was mostly because he was so intelligent, and he had little tolerance for those who weren't. He was easily led, I'm afraid, by some of the boys he went about with, but a lot of boys are like that at that age, and usually, they grow out of it and become responsible adults. When I look at Curt, I can't help but think of the boy I taught, all those years ago, and to wonder what might have become of him had Voldemort never gotten hold of him. It may be an old woman's foolishness, but I've hoped that Curt might be the one to find whatever's left of that boy." She paused and cleared her throat slightly. "It won't happen, however, unless Severus is given the chance to know his child."

“I’m just so afraid,” Hermione said softly. “I’ve never felt quite like this before. I’ve even thought of…well, of taking Curt and running away.”

“You won’t,” Minerva said. “You’re too smart for that. We’d find you - the Headmaster has ways, you know - and then where would you be? No, that’s not the answer.”

“Then what is? Tell me that, Minerva. Tell me what I can do to make this right! I’ve read about twenty baby books now, and there isn’t a single chapteranywhere on what to do when your baby actually belongs to someone you don’t even like, who conceived him a quarter of a century ago and didn’t even know it.”

Minerva couldn’t help but smile, covering her mouth quickly with her fingers when Hermione glared at her. “I’m sorry, child. It’s not at all funny. Not really. You’re absolutely right, however, that the answer to this isn’t going to be found in any book. And I realize that puts you at a disadvantage.”

“So they say,” Hermione said bitterly.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know what you meant. And I know what people have always said about me…nose in a book, lives in the library…you know, Snape used to refer to me as ‘Potter’s brain.’ How he can insult two people so thoroughly with only two words is a mystery to me. It’s a real gift he has.”

“You’re much more than that, Hermione. And Severus knows it, too - though I wouldn't hold your breath waiting to hear him say it.”

Hermione sank into the nearest chair. “The thing is, I really thought that was my place in life. It didn’t bother me. I didn’t want to get married and have babies like all my friends were doing. It’s one reason I came back here - to get away from all of that. I like being an intellectual. I never imagined I would want to take care of a baby - to bother with nappies and feedings and be at someone else’s beck and call. I didn't even particularly want to hold my friends' babies - still don't, actually. But Curt is different...he'smine. I know it doesn't make sense, but I can't explain it any better."

"There's no need, child. I do understand,” Minerva said, gently.

"So tell me…what am I supposed to do?”

"I don't have any magic words for you, Hermione. I'm sorry. All I can do is ask that you try to see Severus's side of it a little better. Try to love Curt with your arms open, rather than clasping him quite so tightly. Try to remember that however good a mother you might be, Curt will still benefit from having a father."

"And what if it doesn't work? What if I try, and I still wind up losing him?"

Minerva sighed. "We'll cross that bridge if we come to it."

§ § § §
 

After Hermione left, Minerva sat quietly for a few minutes, staring into the fireplace. Finally, she rose from her chair to reach into a crystal bowl on the mantelpiece. She tossed a bit of powder into the fireplace and leaned into the flames when they changed colour. "Albus Dumbledore."

Albus was sitting by his fire, a book open in his lap and a glass in his hand. There wasn't a teacup in sight. "Hello, Minerva. Has she gone?"

"Just now."

"How did it go?"

"I'm not sure. It wasn't easy for either of us, I'm afraid. They don't call it tough love for nothing. She worships that child, Albus, and there's a part of me that understands her position all too well. She didn't ask for this, you know. She just wanted to feed a hungry baby. She thought it would be for a day, at most, and it turned into weeks, and now months. Of course she's attached to him now."

"I'm afraid much of the fault lies with me," Albus said heavily. "I should never have allowed her to keep the child beyond the first day. I can't think why I didn't trust my instincts...I do believe I'm slipping, Minerva."

Minerva gave the Headmaster a fond smile. "You manage pretty well, Albus, and this may still come out right in the end - though I confess I can't quite see how at the moment. Hermione said she'd try to get along better with Severus - to see his side of it a bit more. I'm not sure what else she can do."

"Nor am I, yet I'm not sure that will be enough - too little too late, as they say.” He leaned toward the fireplace, resting his elbows on his knees. “May I retire with you, Minerva? We can go live out our days somewhere pleasant, away from these difficult matters."

"Certainly not. I've no intention of spending my golden years saddled with a barmy old codger like yourself."

Albus chuckled. It was a long-standing joke between them. "It will all be quite decent and respectable. I'll make an honest woman of you."

"I am an honest woman. I've no need of you or any other man for that."

"No, I suppose you haven't," Albus agreed. "Once again, I am the victim of your independent spirit."

"Oh, piffle," Minerva said. "You know perfectly well that you're still needed here. And besides, we'd drive each other batty inside of a week."

"Perhaps. However, if one must go mad - and I suspect I must, eventually - it seems a pleasant way to go. I can see that it might be trying for you, though."

Minerva laughed.

"The thought of me going batty amuses you, then?"

"Well, yes, a bit. But mostly I was imagining the look on Rosa's face if she could hear this conversation. Or do you propose to her every other week as well?"

"Only you, my dear Minerva. Only you."

"It's just as well. I doubt you'd have any more success with Rosa than you have with me."

"Ah. How flattering of you to say so."

"The ladies seem to find it difficult to imagine you in that role, though I won't pretend they don't like to speculate. I, of course, discourage those conversations as much as I can."

Albus looked quite delighted. "Well you must certainly stop doing that immediately," he said decisively. "I rather like being the subject of girl-talk. What do they say, exactly?"

"You're impossible! Such conversations are completely improper...you're the Headmaster of this school."

"And therefore have no right to be a man besides?"

"I didn't mean that," Minerva relented. "Only that a certain amount of respect is due to you because of your position - and because of everything else you've done. You've earned the right not to have a bunch of old biddies giggling over you. The last time they did it, poor Hermione's nearly fainted dead away. It was quite the revelation for her. I think she still sees you much as she did when she started school here." She paused, and then went on. "She still sees Severus that way, too, incidentally, and I think it's part of her problem now. It's inaccurate, of course, but I agree with her that he's done precious little to change her opinion."

Albus sighed, and Minerva knew he was disappointed to see the banter end and the conversation come back around to where it had started. It was her role, maintaining the delicate balance of their private friendship and professional relationship, and she knew from long experience when to draw the line on the former and retreat back into the safety of the latter.

"You're right, of course," he agreed. "Hermione is still young yet, and the young have a tendency to see the world in black and white. If there was ever a man who was more complicated than that, it's Severus. I wish you could have heard him today, after Almerick and Hermione left and we had the chance to speak alone. This whole thing has shaken him more than anyone knows."

"Poor man," Minerva murmured.

Albus chuckled. "I wouldn't let him hear you say that."

"Certainly not. I like my head just where it is, thank you very much."

"And a lovely head it is, too."

"Foolish old man." Minerva shook her head, attributing the blush that rose to her cheeks to the warm flames that surrounded her. "It's been a long and trying night, Albus. I'm going to bed, and I suggest you do the same...anddon't say it," she added sharply, holding up a warning finger.

Albus laughed. "How distressing to have become so predictable. I shall have to work up some new material."

"Perish the thought!"

"Thank you for your efforts with Hermione," Albus said, serious again. "I know how fond you are of her. It can't have been easy."

"It wasn't. She's a dear girl, Albus. Her heart's just been stolen, and she wasn't at all prepared for it. She's promised to try. I don't know that we can ask anything more of her."

"I agree," Albus said. "Goodnight, Minerva."

"Sleep well, Albus."

Minerva withdrew from the Floo and began her nightly preparations for bed. She continued to think of the complicated situation as she donned her gown and brushed out the salt and pepper hair that, when released from its severe bun, hung beneath her shoulders. Hermione had promised to try to work with Severus, to make Curt available to him, and to help him get to know his son.

Minerva had little hope that it would be enough.