Desperate MeasuresChapter 13By Kalina
“Hello,” she said, surprised to find Severus in their rooms, hunched over his desk and scratching away with a tattered quill. “Hello,” he replied, not bothering to take his eyes from the parchment spread out before him. “I was going to change Curt and then go to the staff room for dinner,” she ventured. He looked up then and stared at her, clearly waiting on her to come to a point. “Er…would you like to go with us?” she asked, gritting her teeth and remembering his effort that morning. He threw down his quill and let go of the parchment so that it rolled itself up with a snap. “Yes, fine,” he said. “I seem to have reached an impasse here anyway.” He gestured irritably at the jumble of books and papers on his desk. “I’m sorry,” she said, deciding not to take his mood personally. “Perhaps a break will help.” “Is that what you do when you have difficulties in your research?” “No,” she admitted. “I generally live in the library at those times.” “I thought as much,” he said, rising and stretching. She winced sympathetically when she heard his spine protest. She changed Curt quickly and then she and Severus walked together to the staff room for the first time since they’d moved in together. It was a small group since most of the staff was on holiday, but she still felt a little uncomfortable, certain that their every move and interaction would be discussed and dissected the minute their backs were turned. It was for this reason, as much as anything, that she made a point of sitting next to Severus and speaking pleasantly to him. He didn’t quite meet her half-way – she suspected that his mind was still mostly on his difficulties with his summer research – but though he was taciturn, he wasn’t rude. All in all, she felt satisfied with their performance when they bid farewell to their colleagues and returned to their quarters. He surprised her by grudgingly offering to help with Curt’s bath, and it was then, while Curt laughed and kicked in the water, that Hermione thought he seemed to relax for the first time since he’d thrown down his quill. Her natural bossiness came to the fore, and she taught him how to bathe the baby properly, and then together they played with him until Hermione deemed it time for Curt to get out. “Do you want to learn how to put on a nappy?” “Certainly not,” he answered, taking a step backward. “Snapes do not change nappies.” “What aboutfemale Snapes?” she asked. “Unless you count yourself, which I rather doubt, there areno female Snapes. There are no male Snapes either, excepting myself and Curt, so I’m perfectly at liberty to decide what Snapes will and won’t do.” “Do you have any family on your mother’s side?” She tried to keep the pity out of her voice but was unsuccessful, judging by the glowering look he gave her. “Mine is not the only family which was all but exterminated during the wars,” he answered stiffly, and from that she assumed the answer must be ‘no.’ She thought about that as Severus returned to his work and she dressed Curt for bed. Curt was literally all the family Severus Snape had. Was that why he’d been willing to go to such lengths in order to know his son? She was still thinking about it as she tucked Curt in and then, after telling Severus where she was going, she slipped out into the silent castle and made her way to Charlie’s new rooms. It seemed odd and a little painful to sit with Charlie in what just a few days before had been Minerva’s rooms. She usually found Charlie fun and easy to be with, but that night, as they sipped drinks by the fire and the alcohol loosened his tongue, Charlie began to talk of Elspeth and of his feelings of failure as a husband and a father. She knew she should stay, should talk to him until he felt better, but the weight of his troubles reminded her too much of her own, and she found that her shoulders simply weren’t broad enough to carry both. She could think of nothing adequate to say, and as soon as she could come up with a suitable excuse, she deserted him and made her way back to her own rooms while it was still fairly early. She felt guilty about it, but it turned out to be a good decision. She now understood about 2 a.m. feedings. Actually, Curt’s time was between 2:30 and 3 a.m., but he had fallen into a very predictable schedule. Bed between 7:30 and 8, up at around 2:30 to eat, and then back to sleep until around 7 a.m. Hermione would have preferred not to have been awakened at all, but she had become used to the schedule and was able to hear him from the first moment he stirred and then could feed him so quickly that she barely opened her eyes from the moment she hit the rocking chair until she put him back in his cot. So it came as a shock when she was awakened at midnight that night by shrieks coming from the nursery. She bolted from the bed and to Curt’s side, lifting him from the cot and shoving her t-shirt up in one movement. She tried to put him to the breast and then was completely flummoxed when he turned away, still screaming. “Curt, what’s wrong baby?” she murmured, offering him the breast again. If anything, he seemed to get more upset, arching away from her. She stood up then and put him over her shoulder, pacing the floor as she patted his back. She felt his face; he didn’t seem to have any fever, nor did he seem congested or in any way different than he had when she’d put him to bed. She checked his nappy – clean and dry. “Oh, I wish you could talk,” she cried. “What is it?” Severus stood in the doorway, clad in a grey dressing gown, and his normally smooth voice was gravelly with sleep. “I don’t know!” she wailed. “He just woke up screaming, and I can’t figure out what’s wrong.” “Is he hungry?” “Don’t you think I tried that?” Severus ignored her and came to feel the baby’s face. She’d tried that, too, of course, but she didn’t bother telling him so. “Put something on,” he said, glancing at her oversized t-shirt, a relic of a dental conference her parents had attended years before. That was all she was wearing besides her knickers, and his eyes skittered away from her bare legs. “We’re taking him to Pomfrey.” “It’s the middle of the night,” she protested, but she was already handing him the baby, on her way to find her dressing gown. “I don’t give a damn,” he snapped. Hermione didn’t either, she realized, as she cinched the dressing gown and hurried back out to Severus and the screaming Curt. Every instinct was telling her that something was really wrong, and she was terrified. Severus handed the baby back to her, and together they hurried to Poppy’s quarters just off the infirmary. Severus pounded at the door, the sound throbbing up and down the empty stone corridor and echoing along with Curt’s wails, and kept at it until Poppy opened the door to them. The matron didn’t bother with questions. There was no need, of course, since the screaming baby told her why they were there. “Come in,” she said briskly, reaching for Curt. “When did this start?” “Just a few minutes ago.” Hermione wondered if Poppy might think they were overreacting. “He just woke up screaming, and we can’t get him to stop. I’m sorry to wake you up, it’s just…he’s never done this before…” “No, no,” Poppy said as she stripped Curt’s sleep-suit off. “You did the right thing. Don’t worry about waking me.” Without fully realizing it, Hermione moved closer to Severus, and they both watched, tense, as Poppy poked and prodded the miserable baby and then pointed her wand at one part of him after another, murmuring incantations which seemed to increase the volume and intensity of his cries. At last, she seemed to be satisfied that she’d checked everything she could, and she lifted him up and handed him back to Hermione without bothering to dress him. “Well?” Severus demanded, and he looked almost menacing, as if he held Poppy personally responsible for the fact that his son was still screaming. “The good news is that there is nothing physically wrong with him,” Poppy said, offering them a reassuring smile. “Nothing. He’s going to be fine.” “Well, if there’s nothing wrong, why is he screaming like this?” Hermione cried, clutching Curt tighter. “It’s his magic,” Poppy said simply. “He’s getting his magic.” “His magic!” Hermione exclaimed. “He can’t be! He’s just a baby.” She glanced at Severus and saw that he looked as stunned as she felt. “He is young,” Poppy agreed. “Or old, depending on how you look at it. Most children come into their powers between the ages of two and three, as you know. It’s an uncomfortable week or ten days for them, while their nervous systems adjust to the changes, and Muggle parents like yours, Hermione, generally chalk it up to some illness that’s never diagnosed. But this baby spent twenty-seven years frozen in time. It stands to reason that his biological age and his developmental age might be a bit mixed up. It wouldn’t surprise me if he teethes a bit early, for instance. If I’d thought it through properly, I might have seen this coming and prepared you – I’m sorry. I’m afraid Curt’s going to have a rough time of it. Sleeping draughts aren’t recommended, but the Draught of Peace has been known to help with older children. Severus, could you make some up for him?” “Of course.” Severus nodded and looked as though he might leave that instant to begin preparing the potion. “Here,” Poppy said, scribbling down some instructions. “This should be his proper dosage. I wouldn’t give it more than twice a day to a baby so young. You’ll want to use it at night, probably, so that you can all get some sleep. Severus nodded and reached for Curt’s sleep suit while Hermione thanked Poppy for seeing them in the middle of the night. “That’s what I’m here for, dear,” Poppy said. “And don’t be afraid to ask for help this week if you need it. I’m sure any of us would be happy to spell you for a few hours.” “Thank you, Poppy,” Hermione said again, but she wasn’t sure Poppy even heard her over the sound of Curt’s cries once again echoing in the empty corridor. They hurried back to their quarters, and Severus immediately made for the door to the dungeons. “I’ll be back as soon as the potion is finished,” he said, and then the door slammed behind him. Hermione paced the floor with Curt, trying every conceivable position, singing every song she could think of. Now that she knew what was wrong, she could feel it – could feel the random firings of magic that wracked the small body. His crying would change pitch in reaction to the unwelcome feeling, and she would clutch him tighter, wishing she could absorb the pain into her own flesh. He had been crying for two hours when she was finally able to get him to nurse a little, and her ears rang in the brief silence that fell as he ate. It didn’t last long. He pulled off the breast fitfully after only a few minutes, but the milk in his stomach seemed to bring him some relief, and though he continued to fuss and writhe in her arms, he didn’t cry as desperately as he had before. § § § §
Well, now he knew. He’d known since the cries had pulled him from his bed and sent him stumbling blearily into the nursery at midnight. What had seemed to come instinctively to Hermione had had to be learnt, in his case, but he knew he would never again be able to ignore his child’s cries. He might not be as adept at calming them as Hermione was, but he’d always be compelled to try. Somehow, the knowledge that Curt was his son, the last of the Snapes, had opened a door that he had believed would always remain closed. It was admirable that Hermione was able to love so completely a child that wasn’t truly her own, but he recognized that Curt had seduced his father’s head long before he’d gotten near his father’s heart. That night, for the first time, Severus realized that Curt now held claim to both. And now the child was miserable, suffering, and there was little that anyone could do for him. That it was temporary and harmless was certainly good news, and intellectually, Severus appreciated that fact. However, it did nothing to ameliorate Curt’s current situation or to silence the cries that had eaten away at Severus’s gut ever since they had begun. He’d been grateful to Poppy for giving him a potion to brew, for giving him something he could do. “He’s just nursed a little,” Hermione said in a hushed voice as he came in. “It seemed to help.” “Do you want to try this now or wait?” She bit her lip, obviously uncertain. “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe it would just upset him again.” “We’ll wait then.” Severus dropped into his chair, still holding the flask and dropper. He shifted them from one hand to the other and then put them aside, afraid he’d drop them. He picked up a book and put it down again. It was ridiculous to think he’d be able to read. He watched Hermione making a slow circuit of the room, jiggling Curt as she walked. The baby was making fretful sounds over her shoulder. “I can feel it,” Hermione whispered. “The magic. It’s no wonder he’s miserable. It’s coming in bursts.” “At least…” “At least what?” “At least we know he’s not a Squib.” He didn’t look at her as he said it. “Were you worried about that?” He’d been afraid she would be angry and think it was a petty concern. She didn’t sound angry though – only curious. “I’d wondered…since he’d been asleep for so long. I wondered if perhaps his magic had somehow been affected,” Severus admitted. “I would have preferred to find out in the normal run of things, when he was a bit older, but I admit that I’m relieved that he’ll be…” He’d been about to say “normal” and caught himself just in time. Again, he’d forgotten that Hermione was Muggle-born. Her perception of “normal” was certain to be different from his. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to notice that he didn’t finish his sentence. “I hadn’t even thought of that.” Hermione sounded surprised. “I suppose I’ve just been so caught up in the day-to-day business of taking care of a baby. But he was on the Hogwarts list, after all, and I just assumed that with you and Diana as parents…I mean, I don’t know much about her, but I know she was in Ravenclaw, so she must have been bright. And to have cast the Somnostasisspell, she had to have been powerful.” “Yes.” Severus stared into the embers of the previous night’s fire. “She…died before she realized her potential, of course.” “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned her.” “Don’t be ridiculous.” He sighed. “It would be absurd to expect you to raise her child and never express any curiosity about her. You may mention her as you wish.” “Albus has asked me to take Curt to visit Mrs Fletcher,” Hermione told him hesitantly. “I was going to owl her this week. Now I suppose I’ll wait until Curt is better.” He made an indistinct sound, keeping his eyes fixed on the fireplace. “I gather you’d rather not go with me.” He laughed, but there was no humour in it. “You gather correctly.” “Look at his eyes,” Hermione said, her voice hushed now. “Is he going to sleep?” She turned to give Severus a better view of the baby’s face. “He’s asleep,” Severus confirmed. “Are you going to put him in his cot?” She shook her head. “I don’t dare. I’m going to keep walking. Would you mind summoning some tea?” “Of course.” He stood and reached for his wand, and the next moment a tea tray sat on the table beside him. He poured her a cup and handed it to her carefully as she continued her circuit of the room. He was grateful to have something to do, even something menial like fetching tea. He didn’t even consider returning to his room. Afraid of waking Curt, they didn’t talk, but they remained there together as she paced. It didn’t last long – perhaps a half an hour – before the baby woke with a jerk and started screaming again. Severus reached for the potion he had prepared, and Hermione nodded and approached him. “I’ve never given him medicine before,” she said. “Just tip his head back,” Severus directed, filling the dropper. The only advantage to the fact that Curt was crying was that it was easy to get the potion into his mouth. Severus aimed for the back of his tongue, and there was the briefest of lulls as Curt swallowed convulsively and made a face that, in other circumstances, would have been humorous. He immediately began screaming again with renewed vigour, and just as Hermione lifted him to adjust his position, he vomited violently, with Severus directly in the line of fire. “Oh no!” Hermione exclaimed, as Severus swore. Both of them cast about for something with which to clean up the mess. Severus caught up Curt’s sleep-suit and used that to wipe off his hands, and then he reached for his wand and cast a cleaning charm on everything else. Curt’s cries changed as the spell hit him, becoming sharp shrieks of pain and rage. Snape swore again. “I forgot,” he fumed, furious with himself. “We’re not going to be able to use magic near him until the worst of this passes.” “Oh, poor baby,” Hermione crooned, holding Curt’s dark head to her shoulder. “Is that why the potion upset his stomach?” “No. I suspect the problem with the potion is that he’s just so young. I’ll make another batch and try to adjust it a little.” “Poor baby,” Hermione said again. Curt was still crying desperately. “Let me take him for a while,” Snape offered. Hermione had probably walked miles by that time, and he was sure she must be exhausted. She handed the baby over and dropped gratefully into a chair. They spent the rest of the night that way, taking turns walking the disconsolate baby. The sky was softening with the first light of dawn by the time Curt drifted once again into a light sleep. “I’m going to take a shower,” Severus said, keeping his voice hushed, “and then I’ll go try the potion again.” Hermione nodded wearily. “You know where to find us.” Severus walked into the hallway and then summoned Winky. “Master Curt is sick,” he told her. “Your mistress has been up with him all night. She probably won’t let you help with the baby, but you tend to her needs as best you can. See that she eats something and rests, if possible.” “Yes, sir,” Winky said. “Please, sir, will Master Curt be all right?” “He will be fine. He’s getting his magic – a bit early – and it’s going to be a difficult time for him.” “Oh, poor Master Curt!” Winky exclaimed. “Winky remembers when Master Barty got his magic. Winky’s poor, sweet boy. He…” “Yes, yes,” Snape said impatiently, not at all interested in hearing about the boyhood of the psychopathic Barty Crouch, Jr. “Your mistress.” “Yes, sir.” Winky scurried off, and Snape set a record for showering and dressing, not bothering with his usual layers but instead simply throwing his working robes over his shirt and trousers. He was calmer in the dungeons this time, partly because he realized that the alterations to the potion demanded a clear head and steady hands and partly because he felt more in control, somehow, after having spent the night in the trenches, as it were. Hermione was nursing the baby when he returned to their quarters. She was still in her nightclothes, and there was a plate of uneaten toast at her side. “Where’s Winky?” he demanded. “I told her to help you.” “I sent her away,” Hermione said. “She tried to help – she really did. But she kept nattering on about ‘Master Barty’ and, well…I just preferred to be alone.” Severus wondered if that applied to him. Probably so. “I brought the potion,” he said, rather stiffly. “Do you need help administering it?” She looked up in surprise at his tone. “Oh,” she said blankly. “I didn’t mean you. Of course you should be here – if you want to, that is.” He wished they needn’t bother with the irritating attempts at being polite. Would the day ever come when they felt comfortable enough with one another to dispense with the formalities? It was not the time to take it up with Hermione, even if he’d known how to go about it. “Do you want to give him the potion now?” he asked. “Or would you rather wait until tonight?” “I think we could all use the sleep now. Assuming he keeps it down, how long do you think it will work?” “I shouldn’t think any longer than three hours,” he answered. “I had to weaken it considerably.” “Well, three hours is better than nothing. Let’s try.” They worked as they had before, with Hermione holding the baby and Severus administering the potion. He braced himself as the baby swallowed, but he didn’t dodge out of the way, and they both held their breath while they waited to see if Curt would keep the potion down. He made the face again and cried pitifully, but he didn’t vomit, and eventually they released the breaths they were holding and their eyes met in a shared moment of triumph. “It looks like it will work,” Hermione said, smiling. “He’s lucky to have the Potions Master for a dad.” Her casual words hit Severus Snape like an avalanche. It had never crossed his mind that anyone could be considered ‘lucky’ to have him for a father. Hermione had gone back to watching Curt and seemed not to notice his reaction to her statement. “Look, he’s relaxing already.” “It should work quickly,” he answered. “You should try to put him in his cot and get some sleep yourself.” “You’ve been up as long as I have.” “Which is why I plan to take my own advice. Wake me if you need me.” “I will.” They both glanced at Curt, who was nestled drowsily in Hermione’s arms, fully relaxed for the first time in hours, and then Severus nodded at her and made for his bedroom while she went the opposite direction. He fell into bed fully clothed and slept until the sound of crying woke him four hours later.
“Let me,” was all he said, and he took the baby from her and began making the same circuit of the room that she had been making. It didn’t help – nothing seemed to help – so he eventually summoned the rocker from Curt’s nursery and sat down with him, rocking back and forth. Had it only been a few days ago that he’d felt embarrassed to be seen rocking a baby? He could hardly remember it and didn’t break his rhythm at all when Hermione rose to answer a knock at the door. It was Poppy Pomfrey accompanied by Albus, who was the picture of grandfatherly concern. “You look dreadful,” Poppy said to Hermione, automatically touching a hand to her pale cheek. “How much sleep have you had?” “About an hour or so,” she answered. “Curt slept longer than that, but I was too upset to fall asleep.” “Well, the next time Curt sleeps, Severus needs to give you a sleeping draught,” Poppy said firmly. “You’ll be no good to anyone if you drop from fatigue.” “I don’t need…” Hermione began. “I’ll see to it,” Severus said, speaking over the baby’s cries. Poppy turned her attention to Curt then, giving him a quick examination (“No magic!” Hermione and Severus exclaimed together.) and listening as Severus described Curt’s reaction to the potion and his subsequent adjustments to the ingredients. “Good,” Poppy said, nodding. “I still wouldn’t recommend giving it more than twice a day, but I’m glad it brought him a little relief. Make sure he keeps nursing – don’t want him getting dehydrated – and call for help if you need it.” “It sounds like you two make a good team,” Albus said, smiling at them. “Curt’s lucky to have you both.” Severus was too distracted even to glare at Albus for his lame attempt at subtlety, but it was a relief when the Headmaster and Poppy left them alone again. Hermione took another turn soon after, trying and failing to get Curt to nurse. She rocked him and paced with him some more, but nothing seemed to help. “Oh…just…damn it!” she exclaimed suddenly, stifling a sob. “What?” Severus jumped out of his chair. “I’m…my milk let down…all this crying and he won’t nurse and I don’t know what to do!” She began crying, too, then and gesturing at the front of her dressing gown, which was beginning to show a wet stain. Under other circumstances, Severus Snape might have reacted very differently. He might have ridiculed her, for instance, or he might have found himself embarrassed and fled. In this case, he did neither. “Calm down,” he said with authority, reaching for Curt. “Go change clothes.” “It’ll just happen again,” she said hopelessly. “We’ll call Poppy. She’ll know something that will help.” “The…the Muggles have a thing called a breast pump. That’s what I need.” “Then we’ll get you one. Winky!” he bellowed. When Winky arrived, he handed Curt to Hermione and then reached for his quill and a sheet of parchment and scrawled a quick note. He handed it to the House-elf and directed her to take it to the Headmaster. Winky looked a little intimated at the prospect, but she didn’t dare refuse. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, once Winky was gone. He disappeared into his bedroom and came back with a small vial. “Drink this.” “But…” “Drink it,” he snapped. “I’ll take care of Curt. We’re likely in for a week of this, and there’s no sense in both of us exhausting ourselves at the same time. You get some rest, and then you’ll be ready to take the next shift.” “All right,” she said, accepting the vial. She tipped the contents back into her mouth and made a face. “Blech.” “Well put,” he said sarcastically. “Now go get in your bed before you fall down.” “I think I’ll just…sleep here,” Hermione slurred, dropping onto the nearby sofa. Her eyes were closed from the moment she touched the upholstery, and Severus reached down with his one free hand and adjusted her position a bit so that she wouldn’t roll off. Curt had cried himself hoarse, so the volume had diminished even though he was obviously as uncomfortable as ever. Severus was tired of walking when walking did so little good and cast about for something else that might comfort the miserable child. He suddenly remembered how much Curt enjoyed a bath, and he wondered if perhaps a bath would help in this situation. He decided it was worth a try, and on impulse, he took the child to his bathroom and ran water in his own large tub. Curt calmed slightly just at the sound of the water, and Severus was encouraged that he might be on the right track. He took the baby’s nappy off, trying not to think about the fact that he would have to somehow get it back on again, and then put Curt down on the soft rug while he stripped off his own clothing. Severus picked his son up and held him against his chest as he lowered them both into the water. He could feel the tension subsiding as the water surrounded them, could feel Curt relaxing against his skin. Hermione had been right – all day he’d been able to feel the random surges of magic in Curt’s body - but it seemed that these were being absorbed by the water, and in the tub, the baby was finally at some sort of peace. For a few minutes, Curt simply rested against Severus’s chest, his dimpled bum cupped securely in his father’s large hand. Then he kicked…once…twice…and gave a gurgle of pleasure. Severus looked down, amazed by the sight of Curt’s smile. There had been times that day when it had seemed the child would never smile again. It had been a long time since Severus had bothered with a bath. The last time he’d had one, he recalled, he’d been recovering from the Cruciatuscurse, and it had been for therapy rather than pleasure. But bathing with Curt was different…it was fun. He tried and failed to remember the last time he’d had fun doing anything. But bathing with Curt was unquestionably fun. And it was completely private; there was no possibility of anyone seeing Hogwarts’ feared Potions Master splashing about and blowing soap bubbles for his child’s entertainment. Curt wasn’t the only one who was able to completely relax in the tub. Several times, Severus actually chuckled. They spent more than two hours in the tub. Severus occasionally ran more warm water, since he didn’t want to risk casting a warming charm on the existing water. He would remember next time to cast the charm before Curt was in the room. They got out only when Curt rested his fat cheek on his father’s chest and seemed close to falling asleep. Severus rose from the tub and wrapped Curt securely in a large towel before wrapping another one around his own waist. He held Curt in one hand and the towel with the other, deciding to select fresh clothing for himself before he attacked the problem of the nappy. He walked into his bedroom and straight into Hermione. “Oh!” she exclaimed, staring at him with huge eyes and pink cheeks. “I’m so sorry! I woke up and didn’t hear Curt and couldn’t find you and…” “Yes, yes,” he said, clutching the towel a bit tighter. “You’ve found us now.” “I’m so sorry,” she said again, backing toward the door. “Wait!” he said, halting her retreat. “Perhaps you would be so good as to do something with Curt.” “Of course.” He saw her eyes stray to his towel as she reached for the bundled baby, and her cheeks flushed a deeper pink. “Um…what were you doing?” He tried to look as dignified as it was possible to look while wearing a towel. “We were taking a bath,” he said. “I remembered how much he enjoyed his bath and thought it would be worth a try.” “That’s brilliant.” She stared at him as if she’d never seen him before. “Did it work?” “Like a charm, if you’ll forgive a wholly inappropriate comparison. He seems to want to sleep now, but perhaps you can get him to eat first.” She nodded. “I’ll try.” She seemed to notice then that he was still standing there in a towel. “Er, I’m sorry – I’ll let you get dressed now.” She hurried out. § § § § The minute the sleeping draught had begun to wear off, Hermione had been awakened unpleasantly by the feeling of her soaked T-shirt against her skin. Her left breast had been pressed against the sofa and had leaked all over it and her. Her head felt heavy with the draught Severus had given her, but she sat up and attempted to shake out the cobwebs. Silence. The flat was silent. Had Curt actually gone to sleep, or had Severus possibly taken him into another room and cast a silencing charm so that she could sleep? She went first to her own room to change into clean clothing and then peeked into the nursery. Empty. She crossed the flat and pressed her ear to Severus’s door but heard nothing. She knocked softly, and when there was no answer, she entered and glanced around. It was a room similar to hers, with what seemed to be the standard issue Hogwarts bed. His bed hangings were green where hers were a muted blue, but the rest of the furnishings were virtually the same. She was pondering the question of where he and Curt had gotten to when the bathroom door opened and Severus emerged, nearly naked, with Curt bundled up in his arms. She was stunned and embarrassed and confused and so many other things all at once that she was rendered quite incapable of identifying them all. And then, when he explained what he’d been doing and why, she’d been so impressed that she’d actually forgotten, for a moment, that Severus Snape was standing before her wearing nothing but a towel. Curt actually seemed content, and it was all because of Severus’s good instincts. She wished she’d done a better job of expressing herself on the subject, but before she could even say “thank you,” the fact that Severus was nearly naked had reasserted itself, and she’d fled the scene. She dressed Curt and was able to get him to nurse satisfactorily on one side, but then he fell asleep before he’d come close to emptying the other breast. She had no idea what Winky was doing about getting her a breast pump, but she sincerely hoped it would come before she drowned them all. She put Curt in his cot and tiptoed out, hoping he would get a good, long nap. She realized that she hadn’t eaten at all that day and went out and summoned a meal for two from the castle kitchens. “Severus?” she called, keeping her voice soft in case he’d decided to go back to sleep. “Coming.” He emerged from his bedroom wearing trousers and a white shirt, his damp hair slicked back away from his face. “Are you hungry?” she asked, gesturing toward the table. “I got Curt down and then realized we hadn’t eaten anything.” “It looks good,” he said, seating himself. “You should try to sleep again after we eat.” “I’m fine,” he said. “During the war, I became accustomed to doing without sleep. I find that my body falls back into those patterns easily.” “It must have been so hard for you – teaching, I mean, while trying to spy on Voldemort at the same time.” “I find teaching a trial under the best of circumstances,” he said dryly, “but yes, it was particularly unpleasant in those years.” “If you hate teaching so much, why are you still here?” “According to the Headmaster, deep down I really care about the students and the school and have an important place in its future.” She laughed. “Deep down.” “Very deep, apparently. Or, more likely, the Headmaster is living in cloud cuckoo land.” “Which brings me back to my question.” He sighed. “Never underestimate the force of habit.” She didn’t press further. The next few days passed in a haze of baby care, a seemingly endless cycle of baths, potions, pacing, nursing, and catching meals and quick naps when they could. The exhaustion and feeling of disconnection from the rest of the world reminded Hermione of her first days with Curt, except that this time, she wasn’t alone. Winky had materialized with a breast pump in the early evening of that first day, and in her more lucid moments, Hermione entertained herself wondering how the Headmaster had managed to get it. The mental image of Albus Dumbledore in his flowing robes wandering the aisles of some Muggle baby store was enough to cheer her up for an hour, and then Curt was crying again and she cast the thought aside. It was a week without landmarks. They recognized neither day nor night nor anything else except Curt’s needs, Curt’s demands, and their bodies’ occasional need for sustenance. It was only later, looking back on it, that Hermione realized that it was during that terrible week that she truly began to forget about her Potions Master and to find some things to admire about Severus instead. She heard not a single word that week about what Snapes did and didn’t do. Never once did Severus shirk his duty to his son. Never once did he complain or escape to his dungeons, except when it was time to make more of Curt’s potion. She found that he was more capable of functioning properly while exhausted than she was, and there were several times when he recognized that she was close to falling apart, close to screaming or crying or telling her precious child to just stop it because she couldn’t take it another minute. Severus took over at these times and forced her to rest, and she knew she could rest because there was someone there whom she could trust to tend to Curt properly while she was asleep. That was the thing she could no longer deny at the end of the week: Severus cared about their child and had a sense of investment in him that, while different from her own, was no less real. She hadn’t been sure of that before, and before she’d signed the adoption papers, she probably would have been threatened by it. Now, however, she felt only gratitude that she hadn’t had to survive the week without his help. Albus had said that she and Severus made a good team. To her surprise, by the end of the week, she agreed with him. By Sunday, it seemed that the worst was over. The world had righted itself and assumed some recognizable pattern. Curt had slept nearly normally the night before and was playing on a nearby blanket as Hermione and Severus ate breakfast. Winky brought the Daily Prophet and put it between them, and each reached for it, not having seen the news in nearly a week. “Oh, no!” Hermione exclaimed, when she saw the front page. “What? What happened?” “It’s your birthday!” She looked at him, stricken. “I’m so sorry - I was going to get you something.” Severus stared at her, glanced at the date on the paper, and then snorted. “I had no idea either,” he told her. “In truth, I might have forgotten it even if we hadn’t had the week we’d had.” “Well, I wouldn’t have. We’ll celebrate next week, when Curt’s feeling better. In the meantime, happy birthday.” “Thank you. But there’s no need to celebrate. I’m forty-six, Hermione, which is too old by far for birthday parties.” He said the words with his familiar sneer. She was unimpressed. “Hmph. Well, my birthday is in September, and I’m not too old to celebrate.” “Duly noted,” he said dryly. “What shall it be? Balloons and cake and pin-the-tail-on-the-Unicorn?” “I was thinking more along the lines of books and baby-care. I love Curt, but a whole day to myself sounds heavenly just now.” “Neither request seems unreasonable. In fact, we can probably arrange the latter before September, if you’d like.” “I might,” she admitted. “This last week has been…” “Quite,” he agreed. “But he seems much better now.” “Yes. I suppose I should owl Mrs Fletcher and arrange a time to see her. You’d still rather not come, I suppose?” Odd that now she wanted him along for moral support. “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” he said slowly. “At least not this first time.” “You’re probably right.” She glanced at the paper again and realized that, aside from Severus’s birthday, she hadn’t missed much. She put it aside and looked out the window. “It’s a nice day today. Would you like to take Curt out in the pram? I think we could all do with some fresh air.” Severus glanced out the window and seemed to consider for a moment. “That sounds fine.” He seemed unenthusiastic, however, after they had donned robes for the first time in a week and were preparing venture out. “You push that contraption,” he said, eyeing the pram with obvious distrust. “I will,” she assured him. “But you’ll need to carry Curt. I don’t put him in the pram until we’re out of doors.” They encountered Albus in the Entrance Hall. He beamed when he saw them and then embarrassed Severus with effusive birthday felicitations. He was also, of course, pleased to hear that Curt was so improved. “Poppy says to expect the bad moment here and there over the next week,” Hermione said, “but she thinks the worst is over.” “Wonderful, wonderful!” Albus said. “He certainly looks better than he did the last time I saw him.” He tickled Curt under the chin and was clearly delighted to receive a grin and a grab at his long beard in response. “Well, I’ll not keep you any longer. Enjoy your day, children.” “Thank you,” Hermione said politely. Severus just nodded and moved quickly toward the door. Hermione decided he was hoping they wouldn’t encounter anyone else who knew it was his birthday. She felt herself relax when they got outside and she felt the morning sun on her face. She wished she hadn’t had to bother with robes. It was the kind of day that made her want to bare her arms and legs and even shuck off her shoes and walk barefoot across the lawns. Better still, she wished she could find a comfortable spot and curl up with a good book until she felt drowsy and then sleep for hours in the sun. It had been ages since she’d done that. “Do you mind walking toward the forest?” Severus asked, nodding in that direction. “I’d like to see if the Belladonna is blooming.” “Potions ingredients?” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Dutiful husband. I’ve heard that when one’s wife has had a difficult week, one is supposed to give her flowers.” Hermione gave him a questioning look and then giggled when she became certain he was teasing. “Potions ingredients,” he assured her. And then, “I wouldn’t have believed you could be so gullible.” “I wouldn’t have believed you capable of teasing,” she returned. “Touché.” He found the Belladonna, and she had her chance to sit in the soft grass, her back propped against a tree trunk whilst Curt drowsed in the pram. She watched as Severus drew gloves and a dragon-hide pouch from the depths of his robes and methodically gathered the lovely, though deadly, plant. “I’m going to go a little further in,” he said, nodding toward the forest. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” “Be careful,” she cautioned. He rolled his eyes. “All right, then. Get yourself mauled.” He shook his head and stalked off, and she laughed and then leaned her head back against the tree and closed her eyes. “Hermione!” Her eyes flew open at the sound of Charlie’s voice, which was coming from the direction of Hagrid’s old hut, now Charlie’s classroom. “What are you doing out here?” he asked, as he drew closer. “We came out for a walk,” she answered, scrambling to her feet and dusting off. “Curt’s finally feeling better and we wanted some fresh air.” “Don’t blame you,” he said, peeking into the pram. “I heard you had a beastly week of it.” “It was awful,” she agreed with a shudder. “The worst seems to be over now, though.” “It was bad with Jack, too, but he was just past two when he got his magic, and they’re a little easier to distract then. Can’t imagine going through it with one so young. How on earth did you manage?” “Severus helped a lot,” she said honestly. “He was wonderful, really.” “Well, that’s, uh…good. Glad you didn’t have to go it alone.” “No,” she said. “So, um, how’s Jack doing with your folks?” “Better. Much better. He’s getting lots of time with his cousins, and he likes that. It takes his mind off…well, everything.” “Good. So, how are you doing?” “Oh you know,” he said carelessly, “I’m just another happy Weasley. Nothing bothers our lot much, does it?” “Charlie.” “I’m fine.” And then, at her sceptical look, “Really. It’s quiet with Jack gone, but I’ve been staying busy with things around here during the days and then popping over to see him most nights. I enjoyed our visit last week though. Care to do it again sometime soon?” “Er, sure. I probably shouldn’t until I’m sure Curt’s feeling better though. Maybe next week, all right?” Just then, Severus strode out of the forest and there was a pause in the conversation as they watched him approach. “Weasley,” he said. “Snape.” Charlie nodded a greeting. “Didn’t realize you were here. Glad the baby’s feeling better.” “Thank you.” He tucked the pouch back into his robes, removed his gloves, and then turned to Hermione. “I should get these plants back to my storage room. Let me know if you need help with Curt. If not, I’ve work I should attend to.” With a brusque nod, he swept away, back toward the castle. Hermione opened her mouth to say something and then closed it again at the sight of his retreating form. “So,” Charlie said cheerfully, “Can I join you for the rest of your walk?” Author Notes: |