Desperate Measures

The next two weeks raced by, with everyone so busy with finals that there was little time for anything else. Hermione was certain that her colleagues were gossiping about her - it would have been unreasonable to expect otherwise - but they were tactful enough to make sure she was unaware of it, and no hint of her marriage seemed to reach the students’ ears. She had owled Ginny and attempted to explain things to her, knowing that Ginny would share the information with Harry and the rest of her family. Ginny had returned a too-polite response saying that Hermione had their support no matter what, and that they all hoped she would be happy. Ginny probably had had to put Harry and Ron in full body binds in order to keep them from storming the castle and challenging Snape to a duel, but however it was managed, Hermione heard nothing more from her friends. Of the two, she preferred Charlie’s vitriolic response. At least it had been honest.

She and Charlie hadn’t argued again, but things between them had changed. As colleagues, it was impossible for them to completely avoid one another, but they did so as much as possible, and when they were together, the easy friendship they had once shared was gone. There were simply too many things they couldn’t – or shouldn’t – discuss just then, and it left them with nothing but hollow civilities. Hermione knew that Charlie wasn’t ready to calmly discuss her marriage to Snape, and she felt equally uncomfortable asking about his own personal problems. She wasn’t sure of the proper etiquette when a friend’s life was falling apart. It seemed inappropriate to ask, somehow, if Elspeth had moved out yet or what arrangements were being made for Jack, but it seemed equally wrong to remain ignorant – and now that things were awkward with Ginny, she couldn’t exactly go that route either. She hoped that Charlie knew she was available if he ever wanted to talk and wished she felt comfortable enough with him that she could come right out and say so. Her once-cheerful lunch companion was now terse and mostly silent, often arriving with a stack of parchments to mark while he took his meal. It was an awkward combination of activities with only one functioning arm, and he seemed to make little progress at either one before muttering an excuse and returning to his office.

She and Severus saw each other as they always had - in passing - though he did make a point of holding Curt at least once a day at meals and they generally exchanged a word or two then. With Severus, too, she was nothing more than civil, but since that represented a vast improvement in their terms, it wasn’t as uncomfortable as it was with Charlie. Improved though their relationship might be, it still seemed impossible that they would soon be living together, but administering finals and taking care of Curt had her too busy and too tired to bother with another doomsday countdown. She’d think about living with Snape as soon as she got through the stack of parchments obscuring her desk and saw her last whinging student off for the summer.

And then suddenly it was over.

The finals were marked and N.E.W.T.’s and O.W.L.’s administered, and they all sat in the Great Hall, which was draped in silver and green, and listened as Albus Dumbledore made his speech, which was, as usual, quirky to the point of unintelligibility. Snape shot Minerva triumphant glances as Albus awarded the House Cup, and she glared back at him with convincing malevolence. To the students, it seemed impossible that the acrimony between the two Heads of House was anything but sincere. To the staff, which had watched the rivalry play itself out over the course of many years, it was an ongoing source of amusement. The rivalry would almost certainly continue, but one of the players would change, and there was much surreptitious wiping of eyes at the Head and Gryffindor tables as Dumbledore commended Minerva McGonagall for her many years of service to Hogwarts and, in a voice rather less steady than usual, wished her well in her retirement. Minerva was called upon to speak, but once she stood before her colleagues and students, she merely compressed her lips into a tight line and shook her head, unable to produce a single word. Hermione was relieved. Her grief over Minerva’s departure was something she preferred to experience privately rather than in front of her pupils, and if Minerva had made a touching speech, Hermione was sure she’d have fallen apart.

The next morning was chaos, with the students rushing about trying to collect all of their belongings and make it to Hogsmeade in time to catch the Hogwarts Express. Several students made a point of seeking Hermione out to bid her farewell and wish her a nice summer, and many of the girls pressed kisses to Curt’s plump cheeks and told him they would miss him. Even a few of the boys gave him awkward pats and spoke to him before they left. Curt seemed to enjoy the attention and the activity, even if he had no idea what it all was about. He’d fallen asleep in the sling when the last call for Hogsmeade sounded and the remaining students grabbed their brooms and familiars and raced for the train, leaving behind a profound stillness.

The castle always felt strange to Hermione when the students were gone. Even when the children were all tucked away in classes or their common rooms, she could feel their presence within the castle’s walls. Deprived of the students’ vitality, it was as if the stones themselves were different. For all she knew they were - it was entirely possible that Albus had certain wards that were activated by the students’ presence. She made a mental note to ask him sometime. Whether it was due to magic or her own imagination, she didn’t feel completely comfortable in the castle when the students were away, and she had been glad to spend most of the previous summer visiting her friends and family. She had made no such plans for this summer, and she knew her parents were wondering why. She sighed just thinking about it; the list of things she hadn’t told her parents had mounted, and the conversation they would now have to have seemed terribly daunting. She should get it over with soon, but the response of her friends and colleagues hadn’t been at all encouraging. She didn’t like Hogwarts Castle in the summer, but it seemed preferable to spending her summer vacation watching her mother cry. Perhaps she’d send an owl first.

She held Curt’s relaxed weight close, guarding his head from any bumps or jostling as she climbed the steps and followed the hollow corridor toward Minerva’s rooms. Minerva had accompanied the students to the train, performing her final duty as Deputy Headmistress, and when she returned, she planned to gather her things and leave for an extended visit with her sister. Hermione hoped to spend a few quiet moments with her before it was time to see her off. As she rounded the corner to Minerva’s rooms, she saw Irma and Rosa just ahead of her.

“Wait,” Hermione called, and they paused to let her catch up to them.

“I suppose we all had the same idea,” Irma said.

“I suppose so.” Hermione nodded in the direction of Minerva’s doorway. “Look – her door is open. I wonder why.”

“The house-elves are probably finished already,” Rosa said, leading the way inside.

“Oh.” Hermione glanced around the empty room, which had been stripped of any sign that Minerva McGonagall had ever lived there. “Wow,” she breathed. “They work fast.”

“Of course,” Rosa said.

“Well, at least Minnie didn’t have to bother with packing, on top of everything else she’s been doing lately,” Irma said, dropping into an armchair. “I tell you, I’m positively wrung out, and I haven’t had a tenth as much to do as you all have. I don’t know how you’ve managed it.”

“I’m not sure myself,” Hermione agreed, sitting carefully to avoid waking Curt.

“Do you want me to hold him, Hermione?” Rosa offered, gesturing to the baby.

“Thanks, but I’m afraid he’ll wake up if I move him, and if he doesn’t get this nap he’ll be a beast all afternoon. I’m not sure I could deal with that today.”

“Is today the day that you and Severus are going to…” Irma broke off, apparently unsure of how to phrase the question.

“Oh, no. I mean, I was talking about Minerva,” Hermione said. “I don’t have any idea about Severus, actually. I haven’t had time to think about it much. Albus said he was going to arrange new rooms for us, but I haven’t heard anything more about it.”

“I asked Severus about it several days ago. He didn’t seem to know either,” Rosa volunteered.

Hermione looked at her, surprised. “You asked Severus?”

“And why shouldn’t I?”

Hermione giggled, imagining her ‘husband’s’ response to his colleague’s inquisitiveness. “It just took nerve, is all.”

“I’m not the least bit afraid of Severus Snape, my dear,” Rosa answered. “And you’d better not be either if you want to survive this situation.”

“Well, what did he say?”

“Hmm. As I recall, he said that he didn’t know a single thing about it – only I don’t believe he used the word ‘single’ - and that even if he had known, he wouldn’t dream of telling me because he had no intention of having his business spread all over the castle.”

Hermione laughed again. “Well, you have to admit he has a point.”

“I’ll admit nothing of the kind,” Rosa said, affronted. “I can keep a secret.”

“You most certainly can not,” Irma declared. “What about the time I told you that Filius had been checking out books on growth potions? The whole staff knew by suppertime, and poor Filius was mortified.” She looked at Hermione, “He had a crush on one of the ladies in Hogsmeade, you see, and thought he’d get farther with her if he didn’t have to stand on a box to look her in the eye. Unfortunately, I think he was right. The woman never did give him the time of day, as far as I know.”

“No,” Rosa agreed. “And Severus gave him a terrible time about it. Told him to stick to his wand waving and stay out of potions, lest he blow himself up completely. They barely spoke the rest of the year. Filius was always so sensitive that way. Well, I’ll admit that I might have made a little error in judgment that time, but it was really Augusta’s fault. She’s the one who overheard me talking to Poppy about it and spread it all about. She was angry with Filius about something else and was trying to get even with him.”

“What was she angry about?” Hermione had been fond of Professor Vector during her time as her student, and it was disconcerting to find out that there had been an unpleasant side to the woman. It made her feel a poor judge of character.

“Oh, I don’t even remember,” Rosa said, waving her plump hand in dismissal. “Some petty thing or another. This communal living is complicated. Sometimes we all seem to be in balance, and then something happens – some new person enters the mix or relationships change – and everything goes lopsided for a while until we can set ourselves to rights.”

“Minerva said something of the sort when she first found out I’d married Severus,” Hermione said thoughtfully.

“We’re all holding our breath, child,” Rosa said, and Irma nodded. “And frankly, we’re expecting the worst.”

“Thanks a lot!”

“It’s just a big change,” Rosa said. “I’m not saying it’s anything you or Severus will do, but with Minerva leaving at the same time…well, it’ll just be a miracle if we’re not lopsided for a bit. And incidentally, don’t think we haven’t noticed that you and Charlie are barely speaking. That’s exactly the kind of thing I mean.”

“I gather he wasn’t thrilled with your news,” Irma added.

“Hardly,” Hermione admitted. “But he has his own problems now, too. Have you heard that he and Elspeth are splitting up?”

“No!” the women exclaimed together.

“Oh, how terribly sad!” Irma added. “I had no idea.”

“Nor I,” Rosa said. “Did you, Hermione?”

“Not really. Not until he told me. But in hindsight, I think I knew that Elspeth wasn’t really happy here. Some things she said – and that Charlie has said – make me think she felt trapped. She missed her work with the dragons terribly. She’s going back to it, apparently.”

“What about that poor little boy?” Irma asked. “Surely she’s not taking him – not when she’ll be doing work like that.”

Hermione shook her head. “I’ve no idea. Charlie and I are barely speaking, as you said, and I’m not exactly comfortable asking Ginny either.”

“Oh, dear,” Rosa said. “How did she take the news? And Harry and Ron, too, of course. I can’t believe I haven’t thought to ask before.”

“We’ve all been so busy,” Hermione acknowledged, not adding that she’d been grateful for the hectic pace because it had allowed her to avoid just those sorts of questions. “As to Harry and Ron, I have no idea. Ginny must have hit them both with a stunning spell. She sent me an owl and said all the right things, wished me well, etcetera, etcetera.”

“You sound as if you don’t think she was being sincere,” Irma noted.

 Hermione shrugged. “Just reading between the lines, I suppose. It didn’t sound much like Ginny.”

“Nevertheless, you shouldn’t assume that she doesn’t wish you well. I’m sure she does, even if this isn’t what she’d have chosen for you.”

“Is that how you two feel?” Hermione asked, ready now to ask the question.

“Of course it is,” Rosa said. “You and Severus surprised everyone, Hermione, and you have to expect that it’ll take us a bit to get used to the idea. But that doesn’t mean we’re not hoping it works out – for all of your sakes.” She nodded in the direction of the bulge in the sling where Curt was sleeping.

“Well…thank you. That’s nice to hear.” Hermione changed the subject then, and the three friends talked of other things until Minerva appeared in the open doorway and cleared her throat to get their attention.

They all looked up immediately, of course, and Rosa and Irma rose from their chairs. Hermione, conscious of the sleeping baby, kept her place.

Minerva hovered in the doorway, neither fully in nor fully out, and greeted them with a small smile. “I wasn’t expecting visitors,” she said, gesturing at the empty rooms. “I’m sorry – I can’t offer you a cup of tea.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Minnie,” Rosa said. “You know perfectly well we didn’t come for tea.”

“Would you rather we left?” Hermione asked. “Do you…want to be alone for a bit?”

“That’s sweet of you, Hermione, but I’d much rather spend time with my friends than with a set of dusty old rooms.” She crossed the threshold then, closing the door behind her. “I saw the students off. You simply can’t imagine how odd it was…knowing it was the last time.” Her voice was steady but a little distant, as if a part of her had already gone. “You know, I was rather tempted to leave from Hogsmeade myself, rather than coming back here. Terribly cowardly of me, of course, but it would have been easier in some ways.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Rosa said. “You wouldn’t dream of leaving without dotting every I and crossing every T.”

“You’ve probably written a complete manual for Severus and another one for whoever takes over as Head of Gryffindor,” Irma added, laughing at the sour look on Minerva’s face.

“You forget the one for the new Transfiguration teacher,” she said sharply. “And there’s not a thing wrong with leaving one’s house in order.”

They all laughed at that:  It was just so Minerva.

§ § § §
 

The house-elves had done all of her packing, so there was little for Minerva’s friends to do but to walk her to the carriage. She had said her formal goodbyes to most members of the staff already, and some had already dispersed in the students’ wake. But Severus and Albus joined them in the courtyard, and Minerva spoke to each of her friends in turn.

When she came to Hermione, she embraced the younger witch awkwardly because Curt was awake now and over her shoulder. “Remember, my dear. If you ever have need of me…”

“I’ll have need of you practically every day,” Hermione assured her, making an enormous effort not to cry. “But I’ll only owl if it’s really important.”

“Good girl,” Minerva said approvingly, cupping Hermione’s chin in one bony hand and then kissing Curt gently.

Severus was standing stiffly beside Dumbledore, and Minerva looked him up and down. “You behave yourself, young man,” she said, giving him a sharp look over the rims of her square spectacles, “or I’ll come back here and box your ears.”

Severus’s lips compressed for a moment, obviously hiding a rare smile, and then he did something that astonished Hermione:  He took Minerva’s hand and kissed it.

Minerva cocked an eyebrow at him. “A fine start,” she said, giving him a quick nod of approval.

Again, he almost seemed to smile. “Farewell, Minerva.”

“Goodbye, Severus.” She patted his arm, and then turned to Albus.

“Albus.”

“Minerva.” He smiled at her. “I must ask again, you know.”

“One last time, you mean?” she answered, smiling back at him.

“Not at all. Until I receive a satisfactory answer, you can expect my owl on the fifteenth of each month, repeating the question.”

“I shall look forward to it. But for now, I’m afraid my answer is just what it’s always been.”

“Alas.” Albus spread his arms slightly in a gesture of defeat.

“You’re still a barmy old codger, but I’ll miss you,” she said softly.

“And I you.” He leaned forward and brushed her lips lightly with his own. “Take care, my dear Professor McGonagall.”

She nodded, apparently unable to speak, and then turned and stepped into the carriage without looking back. As the carriage began to roll away, Hermione thought she saw a tremor run through the Headmaster, but by the time he turned to face the assembly, his face had been schooled into its usual genial expression.

 “Severus. Hermione,” he said, glancing at them both. “Perhaps you’d like to see your new rooms.”

Actually, Hermione couldn’t think of anything she wanted to do lessthan to move in with Snape on the same day that she said goodbye to her best friend, but it wouldn’t do to tell Albus that after he’d gone to so much trouble on their behalf. She nodded and attempted a smile. “That would be nice.”

Severus nodded as well, but he didn’t look any more enthused than Hermione felt. Less, probably.

“Come then. I’m rather pleased with it. The castle was most cooperative.”

Snape reached for Curt, and Hermione handed the baby over before accompanying Albus into the silent castle.

“I thought it best to put you here,” the Headmaster said, as he led the way down the Charms corridor. “We’ve never housed staff on the main floors before, but I thought this might be most convenient for Hermione.” He opened a door just down from Hermione’s office, and gestured inside. “I’ll let you investigate on your own, but I did want to mention that the door just off of the left-hand bedroom leads down to the Slytherin common room. Do let me know if you find anything lacking.”

And with a final twinkle he was gone, leaving Severus and Hermione in their shared quarters.

§ § § §
 

They stood outside the door for a moment, neither one willing to make the first move into the rooms.

“Ladies first,” Snape murmured, his voice so low that Hermione couldn’t decide if he was being sarcastic or gallant. She suspected the former, but she stepped across the threshold anyway and immediately looked down as she felt her feet sink into the stone floor.

“What are you doing?” Snape asked, and this time there was no question of gallantry.

“He’s done something to the floor,” she said, stepping out of his way so that he could enter. “Come in – you’ll see what I mean.”

Snape stepped into the room, and he, too, glanced down. Hermione bounced a little on the balls of her feet. “Cushioning charm,” they said at the same time.

“For Curt, I suppose,” she added. “For when he starts to crawl.”

Snape sighed.

They were standing in a small entryway, and Hermione stepped through an arched doorway and into the room beyond, Snape just behind her.

“This is nice,” she ventured, wandering around. They were in the sitting room, which was larger than either of their private sitting rooms had been, though she noticed that Snape’s chairs were arranged in the same position before the fire. He seemed to notice them at the same time and scowled - probably at the thought of Dumbledore removing his things without his knowledge, but Hermione wasn’t entirely sure. She wasn’t about to ask. Determining the source of all of Severus Snape’s scowls could easily become a full-time pursuit, and she could think of better things to do with her time.

She didn’t see her own furnishings, and though she wondered about it, she didn’t particularly care. They had come with the set of rooms she’d been given when she became an instructor, and there was nothing to which she was particularly attached. Snape’s things – and the things Dumbledore had added to go with them – were a bit more masculine than she might have chosen, but they appeared solid and comfortable enough. There was nothing that looked as if it would tip over when a baby pulled himself up and no knick-knacks that would have to be put out of the reach of inquisitive little hands. Although Curt hadn’t reached that stage yet, her reading had prepared her for the challenges of a mobile baby, and she found herself looking at the new rooms with Curt’s comfort and safety in mind far more than her own.

Still, she was instinctively drawn to the far end of the room, where several columns divided the living area from what was designed to be a shared workspace. She climbed two steps and her feet were on solid stone again; the office area hadn’t been treated to the cushioning charm. Her desk and Snape’s had been arranged so that they faced one another, each with a set of bookshelves behind them. Summer sun filtered in through three large windows through which she could see the Quidditch pitch and a bit of the lake. The natural light made it a pleasant workspace, though she imagined that having Snape glowering in his space directly across from hers would darken the room more effectively than a set of heavy draperies.

A glance at the books behind her desk told her that Dumbledore had moved at least some of her things, and checking first to see that Snape had disappeared into another room, she crossed over and examined his books as well. Potions…potions…herbology…potions…dark arts…more potions. Not exactly a varied reader, this man she’d married. The realization depressed her.

She heard Curt “talking” – happy sounds, for the moment - and glanced in that direction. She went the opposite way and discovered two bedrooms; a peek through each doorway told her that one was hers, with everything exactly as she had left it that morning, and the other’s was Curt’s. She made a mental note to hug Albus Dumbledore the next time she saw him. She was uncomfortable with the idea of sharing an office with Snape. Sharing a bedroom was simply unthinkable, and it was clear that she wouldn’t have to. Snape’s room must be on the opposite side of the suite – the side that led to the Slytherin common room, she remembered.

She went into Curt’s room and saw that the colourful dragons were back, moving around on the bedding and chasing one another ‘round the walls. She was so delighted that Curt had his own room now and was feeling so benevolent towards Albus about her private room that she decided to allow the dragons to remain this time. She still thought they were tacky and nerve-wracking, but Curt would soon be old enough to appreciate them. At least they weren’t in the middle of her living room anymore.

Her room and Curt’s were joined by a shared bath, and she walked through it, pausing a moment to peek into the drawers and see that all of her things had, indeed, been moved. Curt’s little tub sat in one corner, and his towel hung neatly beside hers, just as it had in her previous quarters. It occurred to her that she was home. She would never again return to her previous rooms; there was no need, now that everything had been moved. In fact, she wasn’t certain her old rooms still existed. It seemed strange to make such a large change so quickly, without even having to pack. She knew Albus had been trying to make things easier on them, but she thought it might actually have been easier if there had been a day or two of transition. She presumed that Snape - she really ought to begin thinking of him as ‘Severus’ - had been moved just as comprehensively and wondered if he felt the same. Having grown up a wizard, perhaps he was used to it.

She returned to the sitting room and met Severus there. Curt’s happy sounds had turned to fussy ones, and Severus handed him over wordlessly before stepping in to examine their shared office space. She sat down to nurse the anxious baby and watched as Severus scowled again, this time out the window.

“What’s wrong?” she ventured.

“Did I say something was wrong?” He sat at his desk and began opening drawers, the scowl deepening as he rummaged through their contents.

“Silly me,” she muttered.

A drawer snapped shut. “I’m going down to my office.”

He was gone in a flutter of black robes, disappearing through the doorway that Albus had said led to the dungeons. Hermione glanced down at Curt, who was nursing contentedly, and then back at the door, which had closed with a thud behind her husband.

Isn’t this going to be fun? she thought.

§ § § §
 

 He raced down the narrow stone steps, descending into comforting familiarity of the dungeons. The stairway was winding and poorly lit, but he was used to roaming the castle at night, and he had no difficulty finding his way down. As Albus had promised, the heavy door at the foot of the stairs led directly into the Slytherin common room, and from there he went straight to his own quarters, only to find that the wards had been changed and he could no longer get in.

Damn, Albus. Damn him!

He’d had two weeks to prepare, but he still wasn’t ready. It was too abrupt, too jarring. He hadn’t even packed his own toothbrush. He’d just gotten out of bed in one part of the castle, and before lunchtime, he’d been moved lock, stock, and cauldron into another life – one in which he’d be forced to coexist with a wife and child and an absurd number of windows. It had seemed like a reasonably good idea two weeks ago – or at least the best of a bad lot of choices - but now, when faced with the reality, it seemed like the most idiotic decision he’d made since he’d taken the Dark Mark.

“What’s the matter ‘Fessor Snape? All locked out?” Peeves suddenly swooped into view, cackling and rubbing his hands together.

“What are you doing down here?” Snape snarled. “You’re not supposed to be anywhere near teacher’s quarters.”

“Not teacher’s quarters anymore though, are they?” Peeves answered, impudent as always. “Professor Snape is a Daddy now, they say. Do you sing lullabies? Change nappies? Give piggy-back rides?”

Snape had his wand out in an instant and fired a curse in Peeves’s direction. (There were a few that actually worked on Poltergeists, though using them in the corridors was, of course, strongly discouraged by the administration. Since he was administration now, he wasn’t going to let that stop him.) Peeves cackled again and darted out of the way, hovering near the ceiling. “Missed me!” he sang. “Going to tell Dumbledore on you, I am.”

“And I,” Snape thundered, “am going to have a talk with the Bloody Baron about you.”

“Ha! Ha! Baron’s on vacation. Won’t be back until start of term.”

He was right, Snape remembered. He couldn’t fathom where a ghost might go on vacation, but the Baron had told Snape months before of his plans to be gone for the entire summer. He hadn’t thought at the time of the effect this was likely to have on Peeves’s behaviour, or he might have declined the Baron’s request. Even Dumbledore had trouble controlling Peeves when the Baron was away, but it wouldn’t do to admit that to Peeves just then. “I am now the Assistant Headmaster of this school,” he said, infusing his voice with all the cold authority he could muster, “and I assure you that if you make trouble, I’ll see to it that you’re banned from the castle.” He’d do it, too, he thought to himself. Albus had twisted his arm to get him to take the damned job; if his authority didn’t extend to Peeves, he’d tell the Headmaster just exactly what he could do with all his paperwork.

“Coochie-coochie-coo!” Peeves replied, leering at him from the ceiling. This time, Snape’s curse didn’t miss, and Peeves’s laughter turned to a screech of pain as the jolt of it ripped through him and he dropped in a heap on the floor.

“I’ll tell,” the Poltergeist gasped, when he could again speak. “Not s’posed to do that.”

“Be my guest.”

“I know all about it, you know,” Peeves said, and he wasn’t laughing anymore. “All the ghosts know, too. It’s a dirty little story you’ve got there, isn’t it?”

“Get out.” Snape’s eyes narrowed as he raised his wand again. Peeves left then, zooming away down the corridor, and Snape was left shaking with fury – at the poltergeist, of course, but also at himself for allowing Peeves to provoke him. He wasn’t sure he would even speak to Dumbledore about it. Better to pretend that he hadn’t been driven to violence by such an imbecile.

He had to force himself to unclench, one muscle at a time, and with a final glance at the door to his former rooms, he took himself to his office, the one of the last places in the castle he could still call his own.

He worked for the rest of the afternoon, planning his summer research, which would be more ambitious than any of his previous summer efforts. He’d probably need to spend some time at the Ministry library, he thought, and perhaps would need to consult personally with some of the experts in the field. He certainly would need to spend a great deal of time in his dungeon laboratory, and when he’d done all the planning he could, he went to his lab and began straightening and re-organizing, stopping only once to request that a house-elf bring him some food.

It was nearly midnight when he returned to his new rooms.

§ § § §
 

The next morning, he emerged from his room irritable because he’d had to depart from his usual morning routine and dress before he’d had his morning tea. He hoped that Hermione already had left – though he wasn’t sure exactly where he expected her to go – but instead she was seated at the small table in the sitting room, drinking tea and glancing through the Daily Prophet, which was spread out in front of her. She, too, was dressed in her usual teaching robes, but her hair was everywhere, a great brown bush that fell past her shoulders and would have been in her eyes as well had she not been holding it a fistful of the front portion back with one hand.

“Tea?” she said, gesturing to the pot with the hand that wasn’t full of hair.

His first instinct was to resist the intimacy of the breakfast table, but his desire for tea overrode his flight impulse. “Thank you.”

A second cup had been placed at the table, the first sign of Winky’s presence he’d seen, and he settled before it and helped himself to both tea and a section of the paper. She had folded the paper backwards as she’d read, and the pages were still in that defiled position. He returned them to their proper sequence with more rattling than was strictly necessary, and she glanced up from her reading.

“Is something wrong?”

“Where is Curt?” he asked, mostly to avoid for the moment the subject of newspaper etiquette.

“Winky’s getting him dressed. Did he bother you last night?”

“Of course not. Why should he have bothered me?”

“He was up twice, which is a bit unusual for him. He’s been down to just one feeding a night for several weeks now. I expect it’s just being in a new place – and maybe those dragons aren’t such a good idea, but I hate to hurt Albus’s feelings after he went to so much trouble.”

Snape stared at her, trying to make sense of the apparent non sequitur. “Dragons?”

“Didn’t you even look in his room?”

“Obviously not.”

“Well, there are dragons, and lots of them. Albus’s idea of baby décor, I’m afraid. Perhaps we should just stop them moving about. It might be a bit over stimulating, don’t you think?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Snape answered, thinking that he hadn’t had enough tea yet to suffer through such a tedious conversation.

Winky came out with Curt over one tiny shoulder. “Good morning, Mr. Severus,” she said, dropping him a little curtsey. “How is you today?”

“Fine, Winky. But I’d like some breakfast.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, bobbing at him again. Hermione reached for Curt, her hair falling into her face when she released it. She tucked it behind an ear and gave Snape a disapproving look. “You could say please, you know.”

“What?”

“To Winky. It wouldn’t hurt you to ask nicely for your breakfast instead of just demanding it.”

“She’s an elf,” he said, enunciating each word carefully.

“I’m aware of that. But it’s no reason not to be polite.”

“I was under the hopeful impression that you gave up your crusade on behalf of house-elves a number of years ago.”

“I’m not saying they should be freed or even that they should be paid – even though they should be. I’m just saying that it can’t hurt to be nice.”

Snape snorted. “And when was the last time you saw me being nice?”

Hermione once again tucked the hair away, out of her face. “Well, perhaps you should consider the fact that you’re going to be an influence on Curt now. For his sake, if for no other reason, you might think about how you treat others and the effect it might have on him.”

“I am going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Snape said, with exaggerated calm. “I am going to drink my tea and read my paper, and I am going to treat the house-elf exactly as I’ve treated every other house-elf in my service. I am certainly not going to spend one second worrying about the effect it might have on a four-month-old infant who can neither understand nor repeat anything I say. Neither am I apt to become nice – for his sake or yours. If those were your expectations, you’re even more foolish than I previously thought.”

“Humph.” Hermione said, and Snape nearly laughed at the inarticulate admission of defeat. He returned to the Quidditch scores feeling triumphant. He might not be the king of the castle, but by Merlin, he was the king of his own breakfast table. The feeling increased when Winky brought his breakfast and Hermione left him in possession of the field, handing the baby back to the house-elf and disappearing in the direction of her room.

He hoped she’d do something about the hair while she was in there.

§ § § §
 

Hermione did do something about her hair, but she was seething the entire time and hoping that Snape would be gone before she went out again. She had few plans for the day, but those she did have would be accomplished much more pleasantly if Snape were gone. He’d obliged her by staying gone the whole day before, and she hoped his long absences would become routine. She’d eaten dinner with the few staff members still in residence, and they had enquired as to Severus’s whereabouts, but no one seemed surprised when she said he’d disappeared into the dungeons, and the conversation soon turned to other things.

She was tired – Curt had kept her up for more than an hour the second time he had awakened – and she had set herself the task of writing to her parents during Curt’s morning nap. Those two things alone were enough to put her on edge, and the exchange with Snape had only made things worse. She doubted that she’d ever be equal to a verbal duel with Snape; she was neither as quick nor as ruthless, and that put her at a disadvantage. She performed much better with preparation time, and even as she jerked the brush through her hair, she was thinking of all the things she wished she’d said back at the breakfast table.

When her hair had been twisted up into its usual knot - she refused to wear the hat during break - she cracked open her door and listened for a moment, trying to determine if Snape was still out there. She could hear Curt making his happy morning sounds, but it was impossible to tell if Snape was there as well. Finally, feeling foolish, she left her room, smiling when she saw the table deserted and Curt playing on a blanket on the floor. Winky had placed him on his tummy with an assortment of toys in front of him, but as Hermione watched, he rolled himself over onto his back and waved his arms erratically in the air. He turned in the direction of her footsteps and beamed at her before stuffing a fist into his mouth. He was trying hard to get his toes there, too, lately, and Hermione thought it was adorable. She thoughteverything he did was adorable, though she preferred to enjoy it all during the daytime, rather than in the middle of the night. She told him so as she relaxed on the cushioned floor beside him, enjoying having the freedom to play with him without the distraction of her teaching responsibilities.

When he tired of the floor, she lifted him up and called to Winky, who appeared instantly. “Yes, Miss Hermione?”

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to take Curt for a quick walk before his nap. It looks like such a beautiful day. Do you know where the pram is?”

“Oh yes, Miss.” Winky snapped her fingers, and the pram appeared.  Hermione had never used it before – the sling was easier inside the castle, given the number of stairs she navigated each day – but on this day she wanted to take her baby on a proper walk. She put Curt over one shoulder and used her wand to direct the pram out the door. She had great faith in her levitation abilities, but she didn’t dare put the baby inside until she had directed the pram down the main staircase.

Once she was on the ground floor, she settled Curt inside the pram and delighted in pushing him out the door. She rather hoped she’d run into someone, just because she felt such satisfaction in the picture they must make, a mother wheeling her baby around outside on a beautiful day. She didn’t happen upon any of her fellow staff members, but she’d only been outside for a minute when she heard a high voice calling, “Hermione! Wait up!”

She looked in the direction of the voice and saw a little redheaded boy running toward her at top speed. “Hello, Jack,” she said. “How are you?”

Jack Weasley skidded to a stop, just shy of crashing into the pram. “Alright,” he said, panting. “Where are you going?”

“Just for a walk. Nowhere special.”

“Can I go with you?”

“Shouldn’t you ask your Dad?”

“He won’t care,” Jack answered. “He’s busy. Told me to stay out of the way.”

“Oh,” Hermione said. “All right, then. You can walk with us. Where shall we go?”

“To the lake?” Jack suggested. “I like to see the squid.”

“You would,” Hermione answered with a laugh. “Sure. We can go to the lake.”

They turned in that direction, Hermione pushing the pram and Jack obviously trying hard to rein himself in and walk beside her rather than dashing ahead. He didn’t quite succeed, and he alternated walking with skipping and jumping, all the while talking until he was breathless and her ears rang with the sound of it. Hermione thought what it must have been like for Elspeth, stuck in the little house in Hogsmeade with this mass of restless energy. How had she survived the winter months? Much of what Jack was telling her made little sense. It seemed to be a story he’d heard from one of his cousins – a ghost story of some sort – but his method of narration was so circuitous that she found it impossible to follow. Fortunately, she wasn’t called upon to do more than say, “uh huh,” at irregular intervals, so she let him rattle on, waiting until he finally paused for breath to attempt a change of subject.

“So, Jack. What are you doing here at Hogwarts?”

“Moving,” he answered. She thought his sudden shift to brevity was far more telling than his volubility had been.

“You mean, you’re moving to Hogwarts?” She felt vaguely self-disgusted at the realization that she was pumping a five-year-old for information, but she quelled the feeling by reminding herself that she still cared about Charlie and Elspeth and was only asking because she was concerned.

“Yeah.”

“With your Dad?”

“Uh huh.”

She didn’t ask any more, but she reached out and rested her hand on Jack’s soft auburn hair, which was warm and glowing in the morning sun.

“Your baby went to sleep,” Jack noted, moving a little closer to her and peeking into the pram.

“He did. I think he likes the motion – and it was nearly his naptime anyway.”

“I don’t take naps anymore,” the little boy told her proudly.

“No, you wouldn’t, would you? You’re a big boy now.”

“What’s his name? Your baby, I mean.”

“Curt.”

“Can he do anything?” Jack asked, looking sceptical. “I have baby cousins. They’re boring.”

Hermione laughed. “Well, I suppose Curt would seem pretty boring to you too. He can do more than he used to, though.”

“Like what?”

“Well, he’s learning to put his toes in his mouth.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Not to him. And he’s learning to hold his toys and to roll over…babies aren’t able to do any of those things when they’re first born.”

Jack nodded. “Boring.”

Hermione laughed again.

Jack broke into a run when they got within easy distance of the lake, and he was wet to the knees by the time she caught up to him. “Jack, I’m not sure you’d better…”

“I think I see something,” he said, grabbing at the water with both hands.

Wet to the shoulders. “Yes, but…”

“Missed it!”

“I really think…” He was waist-deep now, and Hermione forced herself to sound firm. “Jack Weasley, come out of that water right now.” Good grief – she sounded just like her own mother.

Jack gave her a look – he appeared to be considering whether he had to obey her – and then slowly waded out of the shallow water. “I was just…”

“There are things in that water than can hurt you, Jack,” she remonstrated, pulling out her wand and casting a drying charm on his clothing. “Ask your Uncle Harry about it some time. He knows.”

“Oh, I know that story!” he said. “Uncle Ron’s told me loads of times. You were down there, too, he said. What was it like?”

“I wasn’t in a position to know,” Hermione said, “and neither was your Uncle Ron, no matter what he’s told you. But I heard about it later, and I know that there are things in there that could pull you under before you knew what hit you.”

“They wouldn’t hurt me!” He puffed out his thin chest. “I’d fight ‘em.”

 “Right,” she said, not bothering with an argument. She didn’t need a hat to tell her which house this kid would be in one day. “Jack, if you want to fight something, why don’t you look for some garden gnomes?”

Jack’s scowl told her plainly that he felt garden gnomes were unworthy opponents, but he did as she suggested and soon was happily tossing gnomes in every direction.

“Not toward us, please,” Hermione called, as a gnome landed, dizzy and disoriented, not far from where she was sitting. She let the little boy play for nearly a half-hour, occasionally clapping and encouraging him, and then she called him over and told him it was time to go back to the castle. She hoped Curt would stay asleep long enough for her to get her letter written after she got back.

“But we never saw the squid!” Jack protested, jogging over to her.

“Maybe next time,” she said.

“Are you going to walk again tomorrow?”

“I might, if it’s nice. Would you like to?”

“Yeah. There’s no one to play with here.”

“What about your Dad?” she asked, again feeling the prickle of guilt for prying.

Jack shrugged. “Yeah. I s’pose. Wish your baby was bigger.”

“He’s doing the best he can.” Hermione smiled.

“Can I push him?”

“Can you be very careful?”

“Uh huh. I promise.”

She stepped aside and let Jack push the pram, and true to his word, he was very careful, biting his lip and concentrating on his task. They walked back to the castle in silence.

It wasn’t until they’d gained the Entrance Hall that Hermione thought to ask Jack where his rooms were. She’d barely gotten the words out of her mouth when the door to a side corridor swung open and Charlie came running towards them.

“Jack!” he exclaimed. “Where have you been?” Panic, relief, and anger were woven together in his voice like a tight braid, and when he reached Jack he gripped the child’s shoulder, as if unsure whether to hug him or shake him. “I’ve torn the castle apart looking for you!”

Anger seemed to be winning out, and Jack clearly realized it. “Hermione asked me to go for a walk with her,” he said in a small voice, taking care not to look at Hermione as he said the words.

Charlie’s anger was immediately redirected, just as Jack had intended it to be. “What were you thinking?” he stormed. “Didn’t it occur to you that I might want to know where he was?”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said. “I didn’t realize…” she gave Jack an apologetic look and then went on. “He asked if he could go with me. I suggested that he should check with you, and he told me it would be fine.”

“Is that true?” Charlie asked, giving Jack a stern look.

“Yes, sir,” the boy mumbled, flushing a deep red and looking down at his dirty shoes.

Charlie nodded. “Go on up to our rooms. We’ll talk about your punishment when I get up there.”

“Yes, sir.” Jack’s dread was obvious as he headed toward the stairway, but he paused as he reached the first step. “Thanks Hermione,” he said, all in a rush.

“You’re welcome, Jack. It was nice to have your company.”

Clearly relieved, Jack raced up the stairs, making a tremendous racket as he went. Charlie waited until Jack was out of sight to speak. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have blamed you like that.”

“It’s all right. It was stupid of me not to make him tell you where we were going. It was my mistake.”

“No,” Charlie said, shaking his head. “It was his mistake. He knew perfectly well that he wasn’t to leave the castle, let alone disappear for an hour without telling me where he was. And then to blame you…”

“He’s five,” Hermione said. “He just didn’t want to get in trouble.”

“Too late for that now.”

“Don’t be too hard on him,” she urged. “I really did enjoy his company. He’s a wonderful little boy.”

“He’s sure a Weasley, though, isn’t he?” Charlie said, smiling for the first time. “Mum says I deserve every bit of it.”

Hermione giggled. “You probably do.”

“So are you…all right?” Charlie asked. “I mean, with Minerva leaving and…everything else?”

No need to ask what ‘everything else’ meant. She had a pretty good idea. “I’m fine,” she said. “Looking forward to the summer. How about you?”

Her question was even more vague than his had been, but he understood perfectly what she was asking.

“We’re fine,” he answered. “It’s been hardest on Jack, I think, and he’s not too excited about living here, with no other kids his age, but he’s going to spend a few weeks with Mum and Dad this summer. He’ll get some time with his cousins then.”

“That’s good,” Hermione said. After an awkward silence she added, “Charlie, you know if there’s ever anything I can do…”

He nodded. “I know. And the same goes for you. I’m sorry for…well, you know.” It wasn’t an eloquent apology, but she felt the relief wash over her at the sound of it.

“Forget it. It was the end of term.”

“Yeah,” Charlie agreed. “Everyone’s barking by the end of term.”

The two friends were laughing together as Charlie helped her upstairs with the pram.

§ § § §
 

She was able to transfer Curt to his crib, and once he was down, she sat at her desk with a roll of parchment and a favourite fountain pen she kept hidden in a drawer. Quills were one aspect of the wizarding world she had never completely embraced. She unrolled her parchment and got straight to work.

Dear Mum and Dad,

I’m sorry I’ve been so out of touch lately. The end of term was particularly busy this year. I’ve missed you both so much, though, and I’m anxious to get home for a visit.

She crumpled the parchment and tossed it into the bin. It was just too difficult to get from, “I haven’t written in a while,” to “by the way, I’m married and you have a grandchild.”

She tapped her pen against her teeth, considering how to broach the subject. She started three more letters and threw them all away before she had written more than two lines. Looking out the window toward the lake, she remembered when she was Jack’s age, how she would crawl into her parents’ bed at night and snuggle between them, how in the morning, she would tell them her dreams. She’d told them everything in those days, and now she was living a life they knew nothing about. She wished that instead of staring at the blank parchment, she could just put her head in her mother’s lap and tell her everything while her Mum stroked her hair.

“You’re thinking like a Muggle, dear.” Minerva’s voice suddenly popped into her head, and she dropped her pen onto her desk with a clatter when it occurred to her how utterly dim she was being. All book smarts and no common sense; it was the story of her life.

“I’ll go home tonight,” she thought, “and surprise Mum and Dad for dinner.” Yes, that would work much better. She should tell her parents in person about Curt – and about Severus. It wouldn’t be an easy conversation, and there was still the real possibility that she would make her mother cry, but she thought it would be easier if they got the news from her rather than from a school owl. After another moment of thought, she decided to leave Curt with Severus rather than taking him along. She still was uncomfortable with the idea of Apparating with him, and this way, she and her parents could talk without any distractions.

“Winky?” she called, and again, the tiny house-elf appeared out of thin air.

“Yes, Miss?”

“Do you know where Professor Snape is?”

“Mr. Severus is in his office, Miss. Winky took him some tea just a few minutes ago.”

And I’ll bet he didn’t bother to say thank-you, she thought. “Thank you, Winky,” she said aloud. “Would you please stay here with Curt for a few minutes? I need to talk with Professor Snape.”

“Of course, Miss Hermione. Winky is always happy to take care of Master Curt. Is Miss Hermione wanting to eat lunch here today or with the staff?”

She thought of her conversation with Charlie, and for the first time since their row, she looked forward to sharing a meal with him. “With the staff, I think,” she answered. “Curt should be up from his nap by then.”

“Yes, Miss.” Winky bobbed at her and then began bustling around the room, emptying the bin Hermione had just filled with used parchment and tucking the fountain pen back into it’s proper place in the desk drawer. Hermione watched her for a few seconds. If she imagined it would do a bit of good, she’d encourage Winky to sit down for a few minutes and enjoy a cup of tea before the baby woke, but she’d learned there was little point in that. She kept her mouth shut and let Winky go about her business.

She left by the front door, not knowing enough about the Slytherin Common Room’s location in the dungeons to be sure of using the passage Albus had put in for Severus’s convenience. She felt nervous as she made her way down to tell Snape – Severus – of her plans. She wondered if the day would ever come when she wouldn’t feel nervous and uncomfortable in his presence. Surely it must – they planned to live together for at least a year; surelyit would get easier.

But she felt the same hesitancy when she tapped at the door of his laboratory that she’d felt that first time she’d gone down to ask him to watch Curt. She expected to be snapped at and insulted, and his behaviour at the breakfast table was still fresh on her mind.

“Come in,” he called, looking up from his cauldron as she walked in. “Yes?”

“Er, I sat down this morning to write my parents. They don’t know…well, anything about what’s happened these last few months. I wanted to wait until I knew for sure that Curt would be, er, staying with me before I told them anything, and then after we were…married,” she stumbled a bit over the word, “it just seemed like too much to tell.” She would have realized that she was babbling even without the exasperated look on Snape’s face.

“Yes?” he said, when she stopped without coming to anything resembling a point.

“I wasn’t able to write a proper letter. There’s just too much to tell. So I thought I’d go home tonight and just tell them, face-to-face. I think it’ll be better that way.”

“You’re not asking me to go with you.” If she hadn’t been feeling so awkward, the look on Severus’s face would have been positively hilarious.

“Er, no,” she answered. “I think that would be a bit…much. I’d rather go alone, but I wanted to make sure you could be home with Curt. Winky can be there too, of course, but I thought the whole point of us living together was that one of us would be with him as much as possible.”

“Of course,” Severus answered, his relief obvious. “That will be fine. What time do you plan to leave?”

“I thought around five o’clock. That will put me at home at about the time Mum and Dad get home from work.”

“Fine. I’ll be back before then.”

“Thank you.”

As she turned to go, he said, “I wonder if this is some sort of a record.”

“What?” She paused.

He raised an eloquent eyebrow and murmured, “Only one day, and you’re already going home to your mother.”

It was completely unexpected. She laughed and looked at him, incredulous. “Did you just make a joke?”

“Of course not.”

“It must have been my imagination,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll see you this evening.”

“Until then.”

She left, carefully pulling the heavy door closed behind her so that it wouldn’t startle him as he worked. As she climbed the stairs back to their shared quarters, she had the surprising feeling that she wouldn’t be quite as uncomfortable the next time she saw him.