FIC: "Prince Expectant" Part 6 - for Calliope Feldwick
Title: Prince Expectant
Written for: Participant #014, Calliope Feldwick - aka - florahart
Author: Participant #051, Hepatica Whortleberry h_whortleberry - aka - chazpure
Rating: Containing subject matter of the most Indelicate Nature! Suitable only for those of the Hardiest constitutions, whose Mature minds are undisturbed by Tales of Passionate and Erotic Discourse! (NC17)
Pairings: Primary: Severus/Harry; there are numerous minor pairings. Please see Content and Notes.
Length: 42,000 words
Content: slash, het, oral, anal, masturbation, dubious consent, orgies, sex magic, mind/mood altering substances, male pregnancy, rimming, pregnant sex, h/c, schmoop, tortured Latin.
Severus sat in his usual chair, with a stack of ancient books beside him. He had had to do something he particularly disliked, something the Ministry would definitely not have approved, had they known the particulars. He had gone back to Domus Basilicus, the home of his mother's forebears in York, and had very politely and humbly asked his Great-Great Aunt Lavinia for permission to borrow a few texts from the family library.
Unlike the Hogwarts Library, or the great British Wizarding Library near Oxford, the Prince family library was a small, highly selective collection. He happened to know that it contained a number of works on sexual and reproductive magic, dating back to the Roman Empire.
He had finally found some references to male pregnancy, complete with citations and testimonial evidence from attending midwives and healers. There were even genealogies listed, with annotations showing that the practice, although quite rare, had sometimes been used to keep a bloodline from dying out, when the last scion of a house proved incapable of siring sons, or, apparently, was utterly uninterested in the opposite sex.
The documented methods for achieving the conceptio agnatus varied wildly, even within a single record. It was clear that all of them were chancy, at best, and potentially deadly, at worst. Some involved potions that made Severus blanch as he read the formulae; others relied upon intricate rituals and complex combinations of spells. Some texts swore the act of conception must take place at the dark of the moon; others insisted it was only possible on the equinoxes or at the solstices. One particularly gruesome account suggested the wizard desirous of conceiving should bathe in the blood of nine virgins, wear the testicles of a stallion around his neck, and then consume the "entrailles" of a woman who had borne at least three viable children, prior to attempting conception.
On reading that, Severus had dropped the book and run to the toilet, where he vomited violently and repeatedly, until he was clammy and shaking.
He had been tempted to burn that particular volume.
He was rereading the book that described male conception through a combination of sex magic and power-sharing, in the hopes of finding some clue to reversing the spell or terminating the pregnancy, but so far he'd found nothing. It seemed that male pregnancy was so difficult to achieve, no one who managed it had ever dreamed that someone might possibly change his mind, or that it might be desirable - or necessary! - to end it prior to term.
He had just found a barely-legible footnote and was trying to decipher it, when there was a knock on his front door.
It was well past time for his usual Sunday morning missionary, and there was no post today, not that he was expecting a delivery. Frowning, he put his book down and went to the door.
"Yes?"
"Snape? Er...it's Harry Potter. I need to talk to you."
Wonderful.
Just bloody fucking marvelous!
"Snape? Snape, are you there?"
"No, I've charmed the bloody doorknob to talk to idiots! Go away, Potter!"
"Come on, Snape! I need to talk to you."
"The need is not reciprocal, Mr. Potter. Go. Away."
"Snape...look, just let me in, all right? I can open the door myself, if I have to."
Severus snatched the door open and glared at his unwelcome guest. "Indeed, Mr. Potter? I see your sense of entitlement has not diminished. Is there anything else you see fit to simply take? The silver, perhaps? It's worth little, but do help yourself!" He left the door wide open and stalked back to his books.
Potter shut the door and trailed along behind him.
Severus sat back in his chair and reopened his book, pointedly ignoring Potter.
"So, um...how have you been?" Potter stood just inside the doorway, looking around nervously.
Severus snorted. "Spare me the pretense that this is a polite social call, Mr. Potter. Why are you here?"
Potter took his question for invitation and seated himself in the other chair. "Well, I just...er...I wondered how things were going. I...ah...well, of course, I saw you at the flower show, the other day, and...um..."
Severus sighed and set the book aside. "What is it you want, Potter? An account of my comings and goings? I assure you, the Ministry keeps a most detailed record of every apparition and every spell I cast. Apart from that, what I do is my own affair, unless you are here to tell me otherwise." He arched an eyebrow at the young man, who was fidgeting in the chair.
"No, no, of course not," Potter said hastily. "I...actually, I came to ask if you were...er...brewing anything...ah, for sale, that is."
Severus cocked his head to one side, considering the question. "Have you taken to illicit potions, now that the thrill of battling the Dark Lord is gone? I regret--"
"No! I just wondered, would you brew the wolfsbane potion for Remus?"
Severus stared.
"I'd pay," Potter assured him. "The stuff at the apothecary is crap, apparently. Remus says it just doesn't work the way it should; it's nowhere near as good as yours. I...um...I'll pay you double the commercial price. What do you say?"
Severus rapidly totted up the cost of supplies for brewing wolfsbane, figured in the time it would take, and compared it to the going price for the finished product at the apothecary in Diagon Alley. It would be a tidy profit...and a guaranteed extra income every month, assuming the flea-bitten werewolf and Potter both stayed alive.
Potter continued fidgeting as he considered the offer. It was tempting. Very, very tempting. He ran down the list of ingredients in his mind, frowning.
"I can get you the ingredients every month - or better yet, I'll have them delivered. You won't have to go buy anything or gather it, or whatever else you have to do to the stuff."
Severus snorted. "'Stuff,' Mr. Potter? How sad that your vaunted talent for potions has so rapidly dissipated, away from Hogwarts and its...resources."
Potter flushed. "Well, you can give me a list of what you'll need, can't you?"
"Hm." Severus continued down his mental list, until he came to the mugwort. Damn. Mugwort, or tansy, as his Muggle grandmother had called it, was definitely not a safe herb for an expectant...well, it wasn't safe for anyone who was carrying a child to handle, particularly not over the lengthy and complicated process of brewing wolfsbane potion. Damn and blast!
"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter," he said, "but I am unable to assist you."
"What?" Potter looked dumbfounded.
"I am unable to agree to your proposition," he said, clearly and precisely. "If that is all--"
"Look, if it's the money, I'll pay you triple! Whatever else you need, just let me know!" He sounded desperate.
Severus frowned. "What's going on, Potter? Lupin has been taking commercial wolfsbane ever since that one pack rebelled against Greyback and came over to your side. That's been more than a year, now. Why does it matter so much to you that I brew it?"
Potter flushed. "It's...yours is just...better, that's all."
Severus narrowed his eyes. "If you are unwilling to be honest with me, under my own roof, get out! Now."
"I--I was worried about you, all right?" Potter got to his feet and began pacing. "I saw you collapse at the flower show, and I just--"
"Ah. Guilt, is it? Afraid I was going to die and make a mockery of your little exhibition of bravado in front of the Wizengamot? Not such a noble thing, is it, to have people say, 'Oh, yes, Harry Potter spoke for Snape before the Wizengamot...of course, the old bastard dropped dead a few weeks later.' No, they'd shake their heads, wouldn't they? They might even wonder if you'd spared me Azkaban so you could watch me starve to death on the streets. Not a very pretty picture of the Boy Who Lived, hm?"
"You're out of your tree, Snape," Potter said. "Damn it, I was just worried that you hadn't recovered completely. You never did go to St. Mungo's, and I didn't know if you talked to Madam Pomfrey about your...um..."
Severus let out a harsh bark of laughter. "Ah, so that's it! Sexual guilt? Afraid Pomfrey would find me dead and reproach you for the damage done by your manly sword?" He snorted again. "Potter, your prick is hardly a deadly weapon, no matter how much you may think of it. And now that we've sorted that, you may leave with a clear conscience."
Potter sighed. "You really won't make the wolfsbane? At any price?"
"As I told you, I am unable to assist you." Severus said, rising. "Good day, Potter."
Potter got to his feet and headed for the door, looking dejected.
Severus was about to open it, when he felt another wave of dizziness and clutched at the bookcase beside the door, to steady himself.
"Snape!" Potter grabbed at him, trying to hold him upright. "Damn! I knew it! You're not all right; you need to see a Healer!"
"Let go of me!" Severus snapped, trying to shake his hands off. That was a mistake, as his vision blurred, and he had to cling harder to the bookcase.
"Like hell I will," Potter retorted. "I'm taking you right to St. Mungo's! Hang on!"
"NO!" Severus shouted in real alarm.
Potter rocked back on his heels and stared incredulously. "You're sick, Snape! You need help!"
"I will not be made a bloody freak show!" Severus snarled. "Every damned healer and snot-nosed newsie from the entire fucking Wizarding World poking their damned noses in, desperate for a peek! I will NOT be put on display, pointed at, giggled over, gawked at, held up for every soddin' shit-stirrer to make a meal of! I REFUSE!" he shouted.
Potter was gawking at him, open-mouthed. Severus took a deep breath and unconsciously cradled his barely-bulging abdomen, as he straightened up. He could see the wheels slowly turning in Potter's head, as those green eyes looked him up and down, then shot from his pale, sweaty face to his belly.
"Snape...are you...?" he asked slowly, staring round-eyed at Snape's hand where it was curved protectively over his belly.
"Yes, Mr. Potter," Severus snapped, "I am pregnant!"
Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, Saviour of the Wizarding World, and Defeater of Voldemort, fainted dead away.
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Severus left him lying beside the door and went to fix himself a cup of tea. He opened a tin of biscuits - rather dear, but he'd had a maddening craving for the ginger-lemon ones, recently - and put a handful on a plate. He settled back in his old chair and resumed his research, sipping tea and munching biscuits.
Potter came to somewhere during his routine, but Severus ignored him, until the young idiot came back into the study and sat down across from him.
"How..." Potter shook his head. "That's just not possible," he said slowly. "I mean...I remember jokes about it, from school, but I always thought they were...just jokes!" He looked pleadingly at Severus. "I've never seen - never even heard of a real pregnant man!"
"Mr. Potter," Severus said coldly. "My disinclination to be gawked at most definitely includes you."
"Sorry!" Potter sat back in the chair and chewed his lip for a moment. "I--" he began, then stopped and shifted in the chair, frowning.
Severus ignored him and returned to studying the cryptic footnote. He picked up another, later volume and flipped through it for a moment, until he found the reference he was looking for, then went back to the original. "Damn. Well, thanks for sod-all, Master Andronicus!" He slapped the book closed and set it aside.
"No help, huh?" Potter asked.
Severus sighed. "Apparently, the one documented time a wizard attempted to terminate a successful male conception - not his own, apparently - the attempt not only killed the host, but the wizard who tried it died when his house collapsed in an earthquake, the following week. The author very helpfully notes that, due to the extreme difficulty of achieving conceptio agnatus in the first place, a successful male conception must be considered a mark of the gods' favour, and left in their capricious hands, for good or ill."
"Oh."
"Yes, Mr. Potter. 'Oh,' indeed."
Potter seemed to reach a decision. He let out a gusty breath, then said, "Snape...Severus, I am really sorry about this. I had no intention - I had no idea it was even possible! And I know I'm probably the last person you want around, after...after what happened, but I...I'm going to do right by you. You won't be alone; I'm going to be there, for the baby." He looked rather green around the gills, but gravely determined, nonetheless.
Severus arched an eyebrow. How amusingly quaint, properly Victorian, and positively Gryffindor! It was on his tongue to tell Potter he'd best join the queue of suspects, but something stopped him. The boy had an overdeveloped sense of idealism, but how deep did it go?
"Are you, indeed, Mr. Potter? You intend to flout society and give your name to your bastard child, the child of a murdering, traitorous Death Eater?" He arched an eyebrow and watched the boy's face redden. "And whatever will Miss Weasley say? Do you intend to break her heart and shame her before her parents, her family and all your friends, by admitting your sordid, perverted sexual liaison with a Dark wizard old enough to be your father?"
Potter's hands clenched on the arms of the chair, but he took a deep breath and his voice was very controlled as he said, "First off, I don't really give a crap about society; that baby is a miracle, no matter how it actually got here. Second, it wasn't murder; that was established at the trial. You were a traitor to Voldemort, which balances out the Death Eater part, in my book. And finally, Ginny will probably be as surprised as everyone else, when she finds out, but it's really not her business, as she's engaged to Neville, and they're getting married next year."
He gave a rueful smile at Severus's look of surprise. "They got really close, the first year of the war, and then one day, Ginny walked in on Seamus, Dean and me. It wasn't anything serious, just...tension relief, I suppose, but she decided we'd probably all be happier in the long run if she and Neville tried to make a go of it."
Severus snorted.
"Anyway, I'm not going to be breaking anyone's heart, and I'm not ashamed..." he paused and cleared his throat. "No, that's wrong. I am ashamed that I...took advantage of you when you weren't in any condition to stop me. I hope...I'd like to think we both wanted it, at the time, but since neither one of us can remember what happened, I can't even be sure of that."
Potter looked miserable, and Severus repressed a sudden impulse to put a comforting arm around him. Instead, he folded his arms and said, "I think there has been enough baring of souls for one day, Mr. Potter. I am tired, and I have a job to get to in the morning. You know the way out, I believe," he added pointedly.
Potter merely nodded and got to his feet. "I meant it; I am sorry. I don't expect you to forgive me, but I will do right by you, and the baby."
When he left, the house suddenly seemed dark and empty. Severus grumbled to himself as he cleared away his tea things and heated some tinned soup for supper. He hardly tasted it.
He hung out clean clothes for work and went to bed.
He lay awake, staring at the ceiling for a long, long time, before sleep finally came.
)*(-)*(-)*(
Potter was back on Tuesday evening.
He showed up again Thursday morning, waiting on the stoop with the milk and the newspaper.
He knocked on the door five minutes after Severus arrived home from work, Friday night.
Each time, Severus growled at him and shut the door in his face. Potter didn't seem particularly discouraged, but he also didn't seem to have a bloody clue what he actually wanted. It wasn't as if he could pop down to the local pawn shop, come back with a cheap ring and a handful of flowers and offer to make an honest man of him!
The following Sunday, however, he found he had, perhaps, underestimated the brat.
)*(-)*(-)*(
"He's what?" Hermione's eyes were round as saucers as she stared at Harry across the table at the little cafe.
"Shhh! You heard me," Harry said. "Pregnant. Preggers. In the club."
"But, Harry, that's..." Hermione gazed off for a moment, eyes sparkling, and Harry bit back a groan. "That's amazing! Did he tell you how he managed it?"
"It was an accident, Hermione; he didn't 'manage' anything. I think maybe all that magic on the battlefield...you said Madam Pomfrey didn't know what it would do to someone."
"Well, no, but it could hardly make a man pregnant!" Hermione objected. "How on earth--"
Harry reddened. "Well, how do you suppose!"
"Harry! You mean you -- and Snape?" Her eyes nearly popped out of her head.
Harry groaned and rested his head in his hands. "I don't know how it happened, and neither does he...but we woke up in bed together, that morning at Grimmauld Place. Something weird happened that night, Hermione. Nobody in the place can remember anything from the early evening of that day until the following morning. You said something about all the Pepper-Up we'd been taking?"
Hermione nodded slowly. "Yes...and I think the twins had some new potion they were handing out. It was supposed to help ease the Pepper-Up rebound symptoms. Then, too," she said, looking embarrassed, "we must have been drinking quite a bit that night; I picked up dozens of bottles the next day. The combination probably blanked out the memories."
Harry sighed. "Well, anyway, the point is, Snape's pregnant, and it's my fault. I've got to look after him and the baby, Hermione. It's so strange; when he told me, I completely blacked out, but ever since then...I just keep thinking about the baby. There's going to be a baby in the world that I helped make!"
Hermione looked a bit worried, but she just nodded. "Well, I don't suppose you're going to ask him to marry you," she said, "but what did you have in mind?"
"Will you help me?" Harry asked.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't I always?"
"Here's what I was thinking--"
)*(-)*(-)*(
Severus stared at the sheaf of parchment Potter had shoved into his hands as he'd pushed his way over the threshold, Sunday morning.
"You bought a what?"
"A house. And I haven't bought it, yet," Potter explained, summoning another cup and helping himself to tea. "It's ready for you to look it over before we sign the papers. The agent will meet us there at eleven."
Severus sank down onto a kitchen chair and read the document again. "Has it escaped your notice that I already own a house?"
Potter shrugged. "So do I, come to that. But do you really think this is a good place to raise a kid? I wouldn't want to raise kids in Number 12," he said, shuddering. "This house is out in the country, where we can have a garden and a greenhouse and dogs and rabbits and maybe horses or even Abraxans. There's an orchard and a wooded area with a stream. There are Wizarding neighbors a mile or two to the west, and a Muggle village about five miles south of the house." He leaned over and turned a page. "See these outbuildings? We could convert one into a lab for you, if you like. It's a nice, big house; lots of rooms. The kitchen needs redoing and so do the baths, but Charlie and Bill went over it before I saw it and said the basic fabric's sound."
Severus sat back and blinked at Potter. "And you expect me to - what? Move in and be your kept man? Your curiosity?"
Potter's smile faltered. "No. I want you to move in and have a decent place to live, a place where you don't have to worry about the roof, or keeping the larder full, or that some Muggle tough is going to break in some night. I want to know that you're getting proper medical care, and eating right...and not fainting in the middle of some Muggle shop."
Severus felt a sudden lump in his throat and angrily swallowed it down. He was about to throw the papers back in Potter's face, but the picture of the handsome old house caught his eye, again, and stopped him.
Well, after all, why not?
If Potter's idealism and zeal were insisting on looking after him, why shouldn't he take advantage of it? His job at Ulgra's paid the bills, but it certainly wasn't enough to raise a child on. He hadn't yet figured out what he was going to tell her about his belly, once it grew too obvious to ignore, let alone how he would explain that he would need "maternity leave" before long.
It was probably unfair to let Potter continue under the delusion that he was to blame, but life was bloody unfair most of the time. It wasn't as if Potter couldn't afford to buy a house and raise a child, after all, and the amount he would spend keeping one worn out old Death Eater fed and clothed would never even be missed.
He could continue working, if he needed a sop to his pride, he told himself. And when his belly got too big, if Ulgra made difficulties about him taking a long vacation, he could simply quit and not have to worry.
He had to admit it would also be nice to know that someone would be on hand to call Pomfrey or another competent healer when they were needed; someone who wouldn't be ignored or turned away from St. Mungo's. Potter's fame had rankled with him since the boy first came to Hogwarts; perhaps it was time to make use of that fame.
And really, it was possible that Potter was the father. Unlikely, but still possible.
He smoothed the parchment out on the table. "Eleven o'clock, you said, Mr. Potter?"
Potter nodded.
"Very well. I will need to change my shirt. Please be aware that it is inadvisable for me to apparate in this condition."
"The Floo's hooked up," Potter said, beginning to smile.
"Indeed. Well, I suppose it will do no harm to look at the place."
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Continued in Part 7
Written for: Participant #014, Calliope Feldwick - aka - florahart
Author: Participant #051, Hepatica Whortleberry h_whortleberry - aka - chazpure
Rating: Containing subject matter of the most Indelicate Nature! Suitable only for those of the Hardiest constitutions, whose Mature minds are undisturbed by Tales of Passionate and Erotic Discourse! (NC17)
Pairings: Primary: Severus/Harry; there are numerous minor pairings. Please see Content and Notes.
Length: 42,000 words
Content: slash, het, oral, anal, masturbation, dubious consent, orgies, sex magic, mind/mood altering substances, male pregnancy, rimming, pregnant sex, h/c, schmoop, tortured Latin.
Severus sat in his usual chair, with a stack of ancient books beside him. He had had to do something he particularly disliked, something the Ministry would definitely not have approved, had they known the particulars. He had gone back to Domus Basilicus, the home of his mother's forebears in York, and had very politely and humbly asked his Great-Great Aunt Lavinia for permission to borrow a few texts from the family library.
Unlike the Hogwarts Library, or the great British Wizarding Library near Oxford, the Prince family library was a small, highly selective collection. He happened to know that it contained a number of works on sexual and reproductive magic, dating back to the Roman Empire.
He had finally found some references to male pregnancy, complete with citations and testimonial evidence from attending midwives and healers. There were even genealogies listed, with annotations showing that the practice, although quite rare, had sometimes been used to keep a bloodline from dying out, when the last scion of a house proved incapable of siring sons, or, apparently, was utterly uninterested in the opposite sex.
The documented methods for achieving the conceptio agnatus varied wildly, even within a single record. It was clear that all of them were chancy, at best, and potentially deadly, at worst. Some involved potions that made Severus blanch as he read the formulae; others relied upon intricate rituals and complex combinations of spells. Some texts swore the act of conception must take place at the dark of the moon; others insisted it was only possible on the equinoxes or at the solstices. One particularly gruesome account suggested the wizard desirous of conceiving should bathe in the blood of nine virgins, wear the testicles of a stallion around his neck, and then consume the "entrailles" of a woman who had borne at least three viable children, prior to attempting conception.
On reading that, Severus had dropped the book and run to the toilet, where he vomited violently and repeatedly, until he was clammy and shaking.
He had been tempted to burn that particular volume.
He was rereading the book that described male conception through a combination of sex magic and power-sharing, in the hopes of finding some clue to reversing the spell or terminating the pregnancy, but so far he'd found nothing. It seemed that male pregnancy was so difficult to achieve, no one who managed it had ever dreamed that someone might possibly change his mind, or that it might be desirable - or necessary! - to end it prior to term.
He had just found a barely-legible footnote and was trying to decipher it, when there was a knock on his front door.
It was well past time for his usual Sunday morning missionary, and there was no post today, not that he was expecting a delivery. Frowning, he put his book down and went to the door.
"Yes?"
"Snape? Er...it's Harry Potter. I need to talk to you."
Wonderful.
Just bloody fucking marvelous!
"Snape? Snape, are you there?"
"No, I've charmed the bloody doorknob to talk to idiots! Go away, Potter!"
"Come on, Snape! I need to talk to you."
"The need is not reciprocal, Mr. Potter. Go. Away."
"Snape...look, just let me in, all right? I can open the door myself, if I have to."
Severus snatched the door open and glared at his unwelcome guest. "Indeed, Mr. Potter? I see your sense of entitlement has not diminished. Is there anything else you see fit to simply take? The silver, perhaps? It's worth little, but do help yourself!" He left the door wide open and stalked back to his books.
Potter shut the door and trailed along behind him.
Severus sat back in his chair and reopened his book, pointedly ignoring Potter.
"So, um...how have you been?" Potter stood just inside the doorway, looking around nervously.
Severus snorted. "Spare me the pretense that this is a polite social call, Mr. Potter. Why are you here?"
Potter took his question for invitation and seated himself in the other chair. "Well, I just...er...I wondered how things were going. I...ah...well, of course, I saw you at the flower show, the other day, and...um..."
Severus sighed and set the book aside. "What is it you want, Potter? An account of my comings and goings? I assure you, the Ministry keeps a most detailed record of every apparition and every spell I cast. Apart from that, what I do is my own affair, unless you are here to tell me otherwise." He arched an eyebrow at the young man, who was fidgeting in the chair.
"No, no, of course not," Potter said hastily. "I...actually, I came to ask if you were...er...brewing anything...ah, for sale, that is."
Severus cocked his head to one side, considering the question. "Have you taken to illicit potions, now that the thrill of battling the Dark Lord is gone? I regret--"
"No! I just wondered, would you brew the wolfsbane potion for Remus?"
Severus stared.
"I'd pay," Potter assured him. "The stuff at the apothecary is crap, apparently. Remus says it just doesn't work the way it should; it's nowhere near as good as yours. I...um...I'll pay you double the commercial price. What do you say?"
Severus rapidly totted up the cost of supplies for brewing wolfsbane, figured in the time it would take, and compared it to the going price for the finished product at the apothecary in Diagon Alley. It would be a tidy profit...and a guaranteed extra income every month, assuming the flea-bitten werewolf and Potter both stayed alive.
Potter continued fidgeting as he considered the offer. It was tempting. Very, very tempting. He ran down the list of ingredients in his mind, frowning.
"I can get you the ingredients every month - or better yet, I'll have them delivered. You won't have to go buy anything or gather it, or whatever else you have to do to the stuff."
Severus snorted. "'Stuff,' Mr. Potter? How sad that your vaunted talent for potions has so rapidly dissipated, away from Hogwarts and its...resources."
Potter flushed. "Well, you can give me a list of what you'll need, can't you?"
"Hm." Severus continued down his mental list, until he came to the mugwort. Damn. Mugwort, or tansy, as his Muggle grandmother had called it, was definitely not a safe herb for an expectant...well, it wasn't safe for anyone who was carrying a child to handle, particularly not over the lengthy and complicated process of brewing wolfsbane potion. Damn and blast!
"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter," he said, "but I am unable to assist you."
"What?" Potter looked dumbfounded.
"I am unable to agree to your proposition," he said, clearly and precisely. "If that is all--"
"Look, if it's the money, I'll pay you triple! Whatever else you need, just let me know!" He sounded desperate.
Severus frowned. "What's going on, Potter? Lupin has been taking commercial wolfsbane ever since that one pack rebelled against Greyback and came over to your side. That's been more than a year, now. Why does it matter so much to you that I brew it?"
Potter flushed. "It's...yours is just...better, that's all."
Severus narrowed his eyes. "If you are unwilling to be honest with me, under my own roof, get out! Now."
"I--I was worried about you, all right?" Potter got to his feet and began pacing. "I saw you collapse at the flower show, and I just--"
"Ah. Guilt, is it? Afraid I was going to die and make a mockery of your little exhibition of bravado in front of the Wizengamot? Not such a noble thing, is it, to have people say, 'Oh, yes, Harry Potter spoke for Snape before the Wizengamot...of course, the old bastard dropped dead a few weeks later.' No, they'd shake their heads, wouldn't they? They might even wonder if you'd spared me Azkaban so you could watch me starve to death on the streets. Not a very pretty picture of the Boy Who Lived, hm?"
"You're out of your tree, Snape," Potter said. "Damn it, I was just worried that you hadn't recovered completely. You never did go to St. Mungo's, and I didn't know if you talked to Madam Pomfrey about your...um..."
Severus let out a harsh bark of laughter. "Ah, so that's it! Sexual guilt? Afraid Pomfrey would find me dead and reproach you for the damage done by your manly sword?" He snorted again. "Potter, your prick is hardly a deadly weapon, no matter how much you may think of it. And now that we've sorted that, you may leave with a clear conscience."
Potter sighed. "You really won't make the wolfsbane? At any price?"
"As I told you, I am unable to assist you." Severus said, rising. "Good day, Potter."
Potter got to his feet and headed for the door, looking dejected.
Severus was about to open it, when he felt another wave of dizziness and clutched at the bookcase beside the door, to steady himself.
"Snape!" Potter grabbed at him, trying to hold him upright. "Damn! I knew it! You're not all right; you need to see a Healer!"
"Let go of me!" Severus snapped, trying to shake his hands off. That was a mistake, as his vision blurred, and he had to cling harder to the bookcase.
"Like hell I will," Potter retorted. "I'm taking you right to St. Mungo's! Hang on!"
"NO!" Severus shouted in real alarm.
Potter rocked back on his heels and stared incredulously. "You're sick, Snape! You need help!"
"I will not be made a bloody freak show!" Severus snarled. "Every damned healer and snot-nosed newsie from the entire fucking Wizarding World poking their damned noses in, desperate for a peek! I will NOT be put on display, pointed at, giggled over, gawked at, held up for every soddin' shit-stirrer to make a meal of! I REFUSE!" he shouted.
Potter was gawking at him, open-mouthed. Severus took a deep breath and unconsciously cradled his barely-bulging abdomen, as he straightened up. He could see the wheels slowly turning in Potter's head, as those green eyes looked him up and down, then shot from his pale, sweaty face to his belly.
"Snape...are you...?" he asked slowly, staring round-eyed at Snape's hand where it was curved protectively over his belly.
"Yes, Mr. Potter," Severus snapped, "I am pregnant!"
Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, Saviour of the Wizarding World, and Defeater of Voldemort, fainted dead away.
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Severus left him lying beside the door and went to fix himself a cup of tea. He opened a tin of biscuits - rather dear, but he'd had a maddening craving for the ginger-lemon ones, recently - and put a handful on a plate. He settled back in his old chair and resumed his research, sipping tea and munching biscuits.
Potter came to somewhere during his routine, but Severus ignored him, until the young idiot came back into the study and sat down across from him.
"How..." Potter shook his head. "That's just not possible," he said slowly. "I mean...I remember jokes about it, from school, but I always thought they were...just jokes!" He looked pleadingly at Severus. "I've never seen - never even heard of a real pregnant man!"
"Mr. Potter," Severus said coldly. "My disinclination to be gawked at most definitely includes you."
"Sorry!" Potter sat back in the chair and chewed his lip for a moment. "I--" he began, then stopped and shifted in the chair, frowning.
Severus ignored him and returned to studying the cryptic footnote. He picked up another, later volume and flipped through it for a moment, until he found the reference he was looking for, then went back to the original. "Damn. Well, thanks for sod-all, Master Andronicus!" He slapped the book closed and set it aside.
"No help, huh?" Potter asked.
Severus sighed. "Apparently, the one documented time a wizard attempted to terminate a successful male conception - not his own, apparently - the attempt not only killed the host, but the wizard who tried it died when his house collapsed in an earthquake, the following week. The author very helpfully notes that, due to the extreme difficulty of achieving conceptio agnatus in the first place, a successful male conception must be considered a mark of the gods' favour, and left in their capricious hands, for good or ill."
"Oh."
"Yes, Mr. Potter. 'Oh,' indeed."
Potter seemed to reach a decision. He let out a gusty breath, then said, "Snape...Severus, I am really sorry about this. I had no intention - I had no idea it was even possible! And I know I'm probably the last person you want around, after...after what happened, but I...I'm going to do right by you. You won't be alone; I'm going to be there, for the baby." He looked rather green around the gills, but gravely determined, nonetheless.
Severus arched an eyebrow. How amusingly quaint, properly Victorian, and positively Gryffindor! It was on his tongue to tell Potter he'd best join the queue of suspects, but something stopped him. The boy had an overdeveloped sense of idealism, but how deep did it go?
"Are you, indeed, Mr. Potter? You intend to flout society and give your name to your bastard child, the child of a murdering, traitorous Death Eater?" He arched an eyebrow and watched the boy's face redden. "And whatever will Miss Weasley say? Do you intend to break her heart and shame her before her parents, her family and all your friends, by admitting your sordid, perverted sexual liaison with a Dark wizard old enough to be your father?"
Potter's hands clenched on the arms of the chair, but he took a deep breath and his voice was very controlled as he said, "First off, I don't really give a crap about society; that baby is a miracle, no matter how it actually got here. Second, it wasn't murder; that was established at the trial. You were a traitor to Voldemort, which balances out the Death Eater part, in my book. And finally, Ginny will probably be as surprised as everyone else, when she finds out, but it's really not her business, as she's engaged to Neville, and they're getting married next year."
He gave a rueful smile at Severus's look of surprise. "They got really close, the first year of the war, and then one day, Ginny walked in on Seamus, Dean and me. It wasn't anything serious, just...tension relief, I suppose, but she decided we'd probably all be happier in the long run if she and Neville tried to make a go of it."
Severus snorted.
"Anyway, I'm not going to be breaking anyone's heart, and I'm not ashamed..." he paused and cleared his throat. "No, that's wrong. I am ashamed that I...took advantage of you when you weren't in any condition to stop me. I hope...I'd like to think we both wanted it, at the time, but since neither one of us can remember what happened, I can't even be sure of that."
Potter looked miserable, and Severus repressed a sudden impulse to put a comforting arm around him. Instead, he folded his arms and said, "I think there has been enough baring of souls for one day, Mr. Potter. I am tired, and I have a job to get to in the morning. You know the way out, I believe," he added pointedly.
Potter merely nodded and got to his feet. "I meant it; I am sorry. I don't expect you to forgive me, but I will do right by you, and the baby."
When he left, the house suddenly seemed dark and empty. Severus grumbled to himself as he cleared away his tea things and heated some tinned soup for supper. He hardly tasted it.
He hung out clean clothes for work and went to bed.
He lay awake, staring at the ceiling for a long, long time, before sleep finally came.
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Potter was back on Tuesday evening.
He showed up again Thursday morning, waiting on the stoop with the milk and the newspaper.
He knocked on the door five minutes after Severus arrived home from work, Friday night.
Each time, Severus growled at him and shut the door in his face. Potter didn't seem particularly discouraged, but he also didn't seem to have a bloody clue what he actually wanted. It wasn't as if he could pop down to the local pawn shop, come back with a cheap ring and a handful of flowers and offer to make an honest man of him!
The following Sunday, however, he found he had, perhaps, underestimated the brat.
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"He's what?" Hermione's eyes were round as saucers as she stared at Harry across the table at the little cafe.
"Shhh! You heard me," Harry said. "Pregnant. Preggers. In the club."
"But, Harry, that's..." Hermione gazed off for a moment, eyes sparkling, and Harry bit back a groan. "That's amazing! Did he tell you how he managed it?"
"It was an accident, Hermione; he didn't 'manage' anything. I think maybe all that magic on the battlefield...you said Madam Pomfrey didn't know what it would do to someone."
"Well, no, but it could hardly make a man pregnant!" Hermione objected. "How on earth--"
Harry reddened. "Well, how do you suppose!"
"Harry! You mean you -- and Snape?" Her eyes nearly popped out of her head.
Harry groaned and rested his head in his hands. "I don't know how it happened, and neither does he...but we woke up in bed together, that morning at Grimmauld Place. Something weird happened that night, Hermione. Nobody in the place can remember anything from the early evening of that day until the following morning. You said something about all the Pepper-Up we'd been taking?"
Hermione nodded slowly. "Yes...and I think the twins had some new potion they were handing out. It was supposed to help ease the Pepper-Up rebound symptoms. Then, too," she said, looking embarrassed, "we must have been drinking quite a bit that night; I picked up dozens of bottles the next day. The combination probably blanked out the memories."
Harry sighed. "Well, anyway, the point is, Snape's pregnant, and it's my fault. I've got to look after him and the baby, Hermione. It's so strange; when he told me, I completely blacked out, but ever since then...I just keep thinking about the baby. There's going to be a baby in the world that I helped make!"
Hermione looked a bit worried, but she just nodded. "Well, I don't suppose you're going to ask him to marry you," she said, "but what did you have in mind?"
"Will you help me?" Harry asked.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't I always?"
"Here's what I was thinking--"
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Severus stared at the sheaf of parchment Potter had shoved into his hands as he'd pushed his way over the threshold, Sunday morning.
"You bought a what?"
"A house. And I haven't bought it, yet," Potter explained, summoning another cup and helping himself to tea. "It's ready for you to look it over before we sign the papers. The agent will meet us there at eleven."
Severus sank down onto a kitchen chair and read the document again. "Has it escaped your notice that I already own a house?"
Potter shrugged. "So do I, come to that. But do you really think this is a good place to raise a kid? I wouldn't want to raise kids in Number 12," he said, shuddering. "This house is out in the country, where we can have a garden and a greenhouse and dogs and rabbits and maybe horses or even Abraxans. There's an orchard and a wooded area with a stream. There are Wizarding neighbors a mile or two to the west, and a Muggle village about five miles south of the house." He leaned over and turned a page. "See these outbuildings? We could convert one into a lab for you, if you like. It's a nice, big house; lots of rooms. The kitchen needs redoing and so do the baths, but Charlie and Bill went over it before I saw it and said the basic fabric's sound."
Severus sat back and blinked at Potter. "And you expect me to - what? Move in and be your kept man? Your curiosity?"
Potter's smile faltered. "No. I want you to move in and have a decent place to live, a place where you don't have to worry about the roof, or keeping the larder full, or that some Muggle tough is going to break in some night. I want to know that you're getting proper medical care, and eating right...and not fainting in the middle of some Muggle shop."
Severus felt a sudden lump in his throat and angrily swallowed it down. He was about to throw the papers back in Potter's face, but the picture of the handsome old house caught his eye, again, and stopped him.
Well, after all, why not?
If Potter's idealism and zeal were insisting on looking after him, why shouldn't he take advantage of it? His job at Ulgra's paid the bills, but it certainly wasn't enough to raise a child on. He hadn't yet figured out what he was going to tell her about his belly, once it grew too obvious to ignore, let alone how he would explain that he would need "maternity leave" before long.
It was probably unfair to let Potter continue under the delusion that he was to blame, but life was bloody unfair most of the time. It wasn't as if Potter couldn't afford to buy a house and raise a child, after all, and the amount he would spend keeping one worn out old Death Eater fed and clothed would never even be missed.
He could continue working, if he needed a sop to his pride, he told himself. And when his belly got too big, if Ulgra made difficulties about him taking a long vacation, he could simply quit and not have to worry.
He had to admit it would also be nice to know that someone would be on hand to call Pomfrey or another competent healer when they were needed; someone who wouldn't be ignored or turned away from St. Mungo's. Potter's fame had rankled with him since the boy first came to Hogwarts; perhaps it was time to make use of that fame.
And really, it was possible that Potter was the father. Unlikely, but still possible.
He smoothed the parchment out on the table. "Eleven o'clock, you said, Mr. Potter?"
Potter nodded.
"Very well. I will need to change my shirt. Please be aware that it is inadvisable for me to apparate in this condition."
"The Floo's hooked up," Potter said, beginning to smile.
"Indeed. Well, I suppose it will do no harm to look at the place."
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Continued in Part 7