Happy Birthday, Shug!
It's fluffy and unbeta'd (it is now,) but I really hope you like it, and that you've had a marvelous day. I'm very glad to know you.
“Victoria?” he asked.
Hermione wrinkled her nose. “No. Too Queen of England.”
Severus paced, his footsteps cushioned by the thick carpeting in their bedroom. “That eliminates Elizabeth.”
Hermione tucked the covers around her, better positioning herself in their large bed, amd her brown eyes followed her beloved’s path. “I suppose it does. Along with Alexandra, Mary, and Anne.”
He made another circuit around the foot of the bed. “Athena?”
Hermione’s laugh was faint and she clutched her abdomen. “You’ve gone from queens to goddesses?”
Dark eyes bored into hers. “She is quite without peer, Hermione. Not to mention precious.”
Hermione smiled, her flushed face tired but triumphant. “I couldn't agree more.”
“I feel quite overwhelmingly protective.” Severus shifted the position of the baby in his arms.
“I know, and she’s so sweet, Severus.”
“We are not naming our daughter after a pastry, or a condiment.”
Hermione waved her wand and the lamps dimmed. “I’m not suggesting we call her Salt or Pepper. Nor did I say I wanted to name her Sugar -“
“And no flowers either.” He resumed his walking, and a tiny hand flailed out from the receiving blanket, only to be kissed when her father bent his head. “We’re not naming her Pansy, or Narcissa, or Jonquil, or Lavender ….”
“Or Lily?
He stopped pacing, and the cessation of movement caused his daughter to fuss. When he’d settled her again into a pre-sleep drowse, he replied to Hermione’s question, and his tone was as devoid of emotion as he could make it. “Definitely not. I would hope you know me better than that.”
Hermione plucked at the coverlet. “I do. Really. I’m sorry.”
During another rotation around the room Severus identified each piece of furniture, enunciating each word for the baby, including the name of the Kneazle curled in front of the hearth. His two-day-old daughter snuffled through half of it, and when, in the course of their circuit, they passed next to Hermione, she held out a hand in apology. Snape tightened his grip on the small bundle, and used his free hand to accept Hermione’s touch. “She is … sweet, as you put it,” he acknowledged.
Hermione released his fingers, and he enfolded the baby once more with both arms. His wife said, “It could be a pet name. We might give her an everyday, public sort of name, like Angela, or Emma, or Caroline, and still call her something sweet in private. Dulcet means sugar.”
"No, Hermione. Nicknames can work both ways." Severus glanced at the bed and saw that Hermione had turned back the covers on his side. He smiled at her, but then her next sentence stole his breath.
“Whatever we decide, I want her middle name to be Eileen.”
“You’ve never mentioned it before.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s because we’ve been haggling over her given name for four months.”
Severus didn’t waste words. “Thank you.”
Hermione’s expression was the one she reserved exclusively for him; it was the one he privately thought elevated her from attractive to beautiful. She said quietly, “She’ll have the chance to know my mother, but I also wanted her to have something from your side of the family.”
“I’m thankful she won’t have to know my side of the family. They weren’t very accomplished, aside from blazing rows on the weekend. I don’t want that for us. For her.”
He had stopped pacing, and now stood at the foot of the bed, swaying from side-to-side in what Hermione privately called ‘the daddy sway’. Harry had been the same with each of his children, and despite Severus’ fears that he wouldn’t know how to be a good father, his instincts were already asserting themselves. “I don’t want that either," she said, "but your parents accomplished one thing. They had you. I think that makes them remarkable.”
“You’re biased.”
“With very good cause.”
“Perhaps,” he said, tearing his gaze from his daughter’s peacefully sleeping face to look at her mother, “she could have a family nickname.”
Hermione beamed at him. “Thank you, love.”
“What about Heloise?” he asked.
“Heloise? As a nickname?” He curled his lip, and Hermione said hastily, “You mean for a first name? As in Abelard and Heloise?”
He nodded.
She mulled it over for a minute. “I quite like it, but why?”
He smirked, and at that moment the baby yawned, opening her dark blue eyes to stare up at him. “Heloise Eileen Snape, it is an honor to meet you. I am your father, and I suppose you are hungry.”
When he handed the baby to his wife, he explained, “Heloise is a classical name, and it’s unusual. It has the additional benefit of being a built-in warning to any young man who would think to trifle with our daughter’s affections.” His eyes glittered with untapped ferocity.
“Severus!” After little Heloise had settled to the breast, Hermione said softly, “You will be the most loved child, Heloise. You’re our darling, little bit of Sugar … Sugar …” Hermione shook her head. "No that’s not quite right. Sugar … sugar … sug … su … shhhh … Shug.” Her tone had a soporific effect on the baby, and Heloise Eileen Snape fell asleep.
A potion-stained forefinger stroked the downy black hair, and trailed along the tiny nose, the shape of which had thankfully been a gift of her mother’s genes. “I’ll grant you she is precious.”
“We’re very lucky to have Shug in our lives.”
Severus slid beneath the covers on his side of the bed, rolling onto his side, and placing a large hand on his daughter, his eyes boring into Hermione’s. “Indeed we are.”
“Victoria?” he asked.
Hermione wrinkled her nose. “No. Too Queen of England.”
Severus paced, his footsteps cushioned by the thick carpeting in their bedroom. “That eliminates Elizabeth.”
Hermione tucked the covers around her, better positioning herself in their large bed, amd her brown eyes followed her beloved’s path. “I suppose it does. Along with Alexandra, Mary, and Anne.”
He made another circuit around the foot of the bed. “Athena?”
Hermione’s laugh was faint and she clutched her abdomen. “You’ve gone from queens to goddesses?”
Dark eyes bored into hers. “She is quite without peer, Hermione. Not to mention precious.”
Hermione smiled, her flushed face tired but triumphant. “I couldn't agree more.”
“I feel quite overwhelmingly protective.” Severus shifted the position of the baby in his arms.
“I know, and she’s so sweet, Severus.”
“We are not naming our daughter after a pastry, or a condiment.”
Hermione waved her wand and the lamps dimmed. “I’m not suggesting we call her Salt or Pepper. Nor did I say I wanted to name her Sugar -“
“And no flowers either.” He resumed his walking, and a tiny hand flailed out from the receiving blanket, only to be kissed when her father bent his head. “We’re not naming her Pansy, or Narcissa, or Jonquil, or Lavender ….”
“Or Lily?
He stopped pacing, and the cessation of movement caused his daughter to fuss. When he’d settled her again into a pre-sleep drowse, he replied to Hermione’s question, and his tone was as devoid of emotion as he could make it. “Definitely not. I would hope you know me better than that.”
Hermione plucked at the coverlet. “I do. Really. I’m sorry.”
During another rotation around the room Severus identified each piece of furniture, enunciating each word for the baby, including the name of the Kneazle curled in front of the hearth. His two-day-old daughter snuffled through half of it, and when, in the course of their circuit, they passed next to Hermione, she held out a hand in apology. Snape tightened his grip on the small bundle, and used his free hand to accept Hermione’s touch. “She is … sweet, as you put it,” he acknowledged.
Hermione released his fingers, and he enfolded the baby once more with both arms. His wife said, “It could be a pet name. We might give her an everyday, public sort of name, like Angela, or Emma, or Caroline, and still call her something sweet in private. Dulcet means sugar.”
"No, Hermione. Nicknames can work both ways." Severus glanced at the bed and saw that Hermione had turned back the covers on his side. He smiled at her, but then her next sentence stole his breath.
“Whatever we decide, I want her middle name to be Eileen.”
“You’ve never mentioned it before.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s because we’ve been haggling over her given name for four months.”
Severus didn’t waste words. “Thank you.”
Hermione’s expression was the one she reserved exclusively for him; it was the one he privately thought elevated her from attractive to beautiful. She said quietly, “She’ll have the chance to know my mother, but I also wanted her to have something from your side of the family.”
“I’m thankful she won’t have to know my side of the family. They weren’t very accomplished, aside from blazing rows on the weekend. I don’t want that for us. For her.”
He had stopped pacing, and now stood at the foot of the bed, swaying from side-to-side in what Hermione privately called ‘the daddy sway’. Harry had been the same with each of his children, and despite Severus’ fears that he wouldn’t know how to be a good father, his instincts were already asserting themselves. “I don’t want that either," she said, "but your parents accomplished one thing. They had you. I think that makes them remarkable.”
“You’re biased.”
“With very good cause.”
“Perhaps,” he said, tearing his gaze from his daughter’s peacefully sleeping face to look at her mother, “she could have a family nickname.”
Hermione beamed at him. “Thank you, love.”
“What about Heloise?” he asked.
“Heloise? As a nickname?” He curled his lip, and Hermione said hastily, “You mean for a first name? As in Abelard and Heloise?”
He nodded.
She mulled it over for a minute. “I quite like it, but why?”
He smirked, and at that moment the baby yawned, opening her dark blue eyes to stare up at him. “Heloise Eileen Snape, it is an honor to meet you. I am your father, and I suppose you are hungry.”
When he handed the baby to his wife, he explained, “Heloise is a classical name, and it’s unusual. It has the additional benefit of being a built-in warning to any young man who would think to trifle with our daughter’s affections.” His eyes glittered with untapped ferocity.
“Severus!” After little Heloise had settled to the breast, Hermione said softly, “You will be the most loved child, Heloise. You’re our darling, little bit of Sugar … Sugar …” Hermione shook her head. "No that’s not quite right. Sugar … sugar … sug … su … shhhh … Shug.” Her tone had a soporific effect on the baby, and Heloise Eileen Snape fell asleep.
A potion-stained forefinger stroked the downy black hair, and trailed along the tiny nose, the shape of which had thankfully been a gift of her mother’s genes. “I’ll grant you she is precious.”
“We’re very lucky to have Shug in our lives.”
Severus slid beneath the covers on his side of the bed, rolling onto his side, and placing a large hand on his daughter, his eyes boring into Hermione’s. “Indeed we are.”