REALITIES AND ADAPTATIONS, Post 1
Title: REALITIES AND ADAPTATIONS
Series: The third installment in the MAN OF PROPERTY series
Author: Josan
Posted: July, 2005
Rating: Still pretty PG-13
Pairing: SS/HG, so
WARNING 1: HET
Warning 2: I’m mean to a couple of ‘good’ guys.
Feedback: Leave a comment or jmann@pobox.mondenet.com
Disclaimer: JKR is the one making millions off this. Me, I just play with them.
Beta: Many, many thanks to fabularasa, for her suggestions. I think I got most of them in. And those who commented on the Hermione essay; I hope I have answered some of your concerns.
ETA: Shoot, I forgot that I had run the first part of this by kaiz last summer. Sigh, I am so getting old!
A.N.: This was begun way back in the summer of 2004, before Real Life stepped in. Since then there have been a few canon changes, aka HBP, which I have ignored to the best of my ability, except for one point since it didn’t disrupt my plot. You’ll know it when you read it. Other than that, I have no intention of allowing JKR and her vision of canon to interfere with mine. (Actually, a good portion was written prior to HBP, and what does it matter? This is all AU anyways.)
As for this being a WIP, I can’t tell you. I can tell you that this story pops up every now and then in my 3 a.m. bouts of insomnia.
Dedication: to all women who have small babies and deal with them while remaining sane. I don’t know how you do it.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Come out, you fucking bastard!”
“Yeah, come out or...or we’ll have to hurt your little friend here.”
Severus Snape, wearing his dressing gown, shut the main door of his house behind him and carefully made his way to the front gate of his property. He held his hands out at his side, making it obvious that he was not carrying his wand - or anything else, for that matter.
He quickly scanned the area, relieved to see that his unexpected visitors had not attracted any attention, thankful it was long past midnight. Merlin knew, their shouts had certainly awakened him and his household.
“Open the gate, you degenerate arsehole!”
“Yeah, do as he says, you bloody Death Eater!”
Snape came to a standstill, eyes on the two men who were so drunk that they were having trouble standing straight. Which was one of the problems he had to consider because, drunk as they were, one of them was holding a knife to Dobby’s throat.
In fact, the knife had already slipped as there was a line of blood, thin so far, running down and streaking his house elf’s clothing.
“Mr Potter. Mr Weasley. Might I suggest that you allow Dobby to breathe if you intend to continue holding him hostage for my behavior? A dead house elf has little bargaining power.”
He’d kept his voice clear and calm, his eyes holding the terrified ones of his house elf, who had been the first to hear and recognise the voices yelling at the gate, and who had, against his hastily-yelled counsel, gone out to see what they had wanted. When this was over, he fully intended to have a little talk with his house elf about leaving the safety of the wards, but right now he tried to communicate the confidence that this was going to turn out all right.
After a moment during which it was easy to see that the man had to make a conscious effort to think, Potter eased up his hold on Dobby’s neck. That allowed the house elf to drag in a noisy inhalation and to regain a little colour. Even in the light of a half-moon, he could see that Dobby was far too pale. Behind him, he heard a sudden gasp and knew that his other house elves were now witnessing this attack on a member of his household.
“I don’t want to kill Dobby,” snarled Potter, his words slurred as he bit them out. “I want to kill you, you bastard.”
Snape hoped that the others would remain out of range of any action: it was obvious that both men were drunk on more than butterbeer. He’d heard that Weasley had developed a fondness for firewhiskey and Muggle beer - as was evidenced by the paunch that mounded his robes about waist level. Potter, on the other hand, looked pretty much as he always had: still built like a Seeker, though one who didn’t play the game for more than pleasure.
Mind, they both looked their ages, far more than Granger had. Weasley was showing signs of definite hair loss - his forehead seemed to be determined to conquer more territory - while Potter’s was still the messy bird’s nest it had always been, though lighter. Snape didn’t think that had much to do with moonlight. Well, they were all getting older. And if he handled this properly, he and Dobby would have the chance to see many more years.
“Might it be permitted to know exactly why it is you wish to kill me, Mr Potter? Other than the usual ancient history.”
Weasley lunged for the gate, shaking it with his hands. Or trying to. The gates of Brewer’s Haven were well warded against entry unless their owner wished otherwise. In his frustration, Weasley spat at Snape, the glob of spittle landing nowhere near him.
Snape glanced down at the shiny wetness on the dirt of the drive and knew he had to get to the reason for all this before he lost his temper, and the Aurors would finally have a reason to drag him off to Azkaban.
Potter seemed to have reached the end of his forebearance as well. He hauled Dobby up off his feet, causing the house elf’s squeal of terror to be suddenly cut off. This time the knife was held in a trembling hand and Snape feared that there would be no reasoning with either man.
“Did you think you were going to get away with it, you...you piece of shit? That no one would ever guess?”
“Get away with what, Mr Potter?” Snape started to bring his hands to his side, in preparation of flicking his wand into his hand.
“Wand, Ron!”
And, unfortunately, the inebriated Weasley had a momentary flash of sobriety that allowed him to point his wand steadily at Snape. “Hands up, you fucker! Over your head. Or... or...” he shifted the point of his wand to Snape’s side.
Snape didn’t have to be told or what. The muffled sound indicated that one of his elves had quietly come to stand by him. Inside the wards, he and his house elves were protected, but he had no control over the ricochet. Not that he had any particular care for Potter or Weasley.
Snape began slowly raising his hands over his head. “Why, Mr Potter? You still haven’t informed of the reason for this visit of yours.”
Potter took a step forward, his face coming into the light of the moon, his hatred easy for all to see. “She wouldn’t tell us where she’d been. Except that it eventually became a little hard to hide her condition. And then one of the little bastards looks just like you. Same nose, same greasy hair. Jesus, I hope she drowns it.”
Snape said nothing though the house elf at his side gasped.
“You had to rape her, didn’t you? Your bit of revenge for being ignored all these years? You should have been Kissed decades ago, Snape.”
“Is that what she told you, that I raped her?” Snape kept his voice almost disinterested, though his heart was racing. Would she truly have accused him of that? Did she hate him that much?
“She didn’t have to tell us; we guessed. We asked her outright and she told us that you had nothing to do with anything. That we should mind our own business and she would mind hers.”
So Granger was sticking to her end of the bargain, was she? Much, it appeared, to the displeasure of these two.
Potter took another step closer to Weasley, his knife cutting the skin of Dobby’s throat. Superficial cuts as far as Snape could tell. But he could feel the anger in him, an anger he hadn’t felt in months, come to life.
“She nearly died giving birth to your leavings, Snape. She’s still at St. Mungo’s even now. And you’re going to bleed twice for every drop of blood that delivery cost her. Now open the fucking gate or we’ll see just how much blood house elves have in them.”
At last the men were now standing side by side, an easier target. If he could only find a way of distracting them...
“You is evil, Harry Potter!”
Dear Merlin, it was Mindy! She was stepping closer to the gates, her face a rictus of anger.
“You is no hero. You is worse than...worse than Lucius Malfoy!”
Both Potter and Weasley turned to deal with her and Snape proved that he hadn’t lost much ability to respond to a threat over the years. Before either man knew it, he had his wand in his hand and was casting “Stupefy!” Thank Merlin, he’d set the wards to allow him to defend if necessary.
Of course Dobby had also been caught in the spell but that was to the good as Potter’s knife was right against his jugular.
No sooner had he opened the gates than Mindy and the others were there, anxiously hopping from one foot to the other. Ola was crying silently while Clim was grim-faced. They all waited for Snape to free Dobby from Potter, which wasn’t easy as Potter was holding the elf in an almost death-grip.
First, Snape transfigured the knife to a feather, which put an end to the fear of accidentally injuring the house elf. Then he cast a spell - the same Gilderoy Lockhart had used - that eliminated the bones in Potter’s arm. In spite of all that, it took a bit of effort on Snape’s part to separate Dobby from Potter - his arm still held the stiffened muscles of a Seeker - but finally it was done.
A quick word and Dobby was unstupefied and moaning. “He’s in shock.” Snape pulled off his dressing gown and wrapped Dobby in it. “Get him into the house. Clim, get the medicine box from my laboratory. I’ll be in as soon as I deal with these two.”
Mindy lay her hand on his arm. “You is not to kill them.”
He looked down at her and, after a moment, nodded. That satisfied her. And they both knew she hadn’t forbidden him any other kind of punishment.
He waited until they were at the door to deal with the two men. The stench of alcohol had been almost overwhelming when he’d approached them and he decided to use that against them. A little Obliviate and they wouldn’t remember where they had been this night. Though he still wanted some revenge for the fear they had put him and his household through.
A few words and the two disappeared. They would be found the next morning, hung-over and naked, on the steps of the Ministry where they both worked. If life were just, it would be the Deputy Minister who would find them.
Dobby’s wounds were not deep. Clim took care of healing them: he was used to cuts and the such in his gardening. Snape dosed the trembling house elf with some Dreamless Sleep and Ola levitated him up to their quarters.
Mindy followed Snape up to his room, watching him rummage in his closet for robes that could be worn out in public. She handed him a cup of coffee and sat patiently on his bed as he bathed and dressed. She said nothing until he was at the door.
“She would not drown her babe.”
Snape stilled. He closed his eyes and wondered how Mindy had known the one thing Potter had said that had affected him.
Mindy hopped off the bed and came to stand by him. “Whatever you decide,” she said as she reached up and patted his arm. “Now go find out what the truth is.”
#####
He hated St. Mungo’s. The smells alone were enough to make him gag.
Snape swallowed hard as he made his way up to the maternity floor. He hadn’t stepped foot in the place since the day he’d left, and he grew angry once more with the fact that he was here now.
The medi-witch at the desk didn’t answer him right away when he asked for Granger’s room. He had tried to make his face as unthreatening as possible, but from her reaction, he doubted that it had been much of a success. And, truth be told, it was early. Barely seven. The hours of visitation were open for this ward but he was probably going to have to wait until morning rounds were done.
So it did surprise him a little when the woman pointed down the hallway and gave him the room number with the advisory, “It’s a private room so knock before you enter; she may be nursing.”
A private room? That didn’t bode well. You had to be very important or very ill to qualify for a private room. His had been one of those.
He had to wipe the palms of his hands along the sides of his robe before he knocked. The deal they had was that he was to have nothing to do with her after that horror of a night when he’d paid off yet another life debt.
“Come in.”
She was indeed nursing. She was sitting in a rocking chair, a bundle of something small to her breast. She was singing some song, not badly, from the little he heard before she looked up to see who had been knocking. Then her mouth remained opened as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
It was obvious that she’d been ill. She was thinner than she’d been last autumn. The bones of her face were accentuated and her hand, holding the child, looked fragile against the swaddling.
But her mind was no less sharp than it had ever been. She closed her eyes and moaned softly. “Let me guess, you’ve had visitors.”
Snape stayed where he was, not wanting to come closer, not wanting to give in to the sudden and surprising need to see what it was she was holding. “Last night. Or rather this morning. At least they had the courtesy of doing so at a time that did not attract attention.”
He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. Was it a boy or a girl? Should he ask? Would she even tell him if he did?
“How bad was it?”
Snape didn’t answer her.
“Severus. How bad was it?”
Her tone told him she wasn’t happy with his reticence. It was a good thing she’d decided not to go into teaching. With that voice, she could have been him dealing with Longbottom. Oh, why not tell her?
“They were drunk.” He tried hard to keep his own voice even.
“Yes, they would be.”
So she knew them that well, did she? Before he could respond, she looked down at the child and did something with the hand against her breast that resulted in small sucking sounds.
Did that hurt? Funny, he’d never before even thought of a woman nursing.
“Surely the wards held?”
He nodded, trying not to look interested in what she was doing. “But Dobby was so happy to see it was his chum, the great Harry Potter...”
Her head snapped up. “What happened? Severus, did they hurt him?”
Well, she was asking. And why not tell her? After all, this was the result of her idiotic claim of life debt!
“Potter held him hostage, with a knife to his throat.” And then wished he hadn’t succumbed to the need for a little revenge for the fear he had felt that night. She went white and she hadn’t all that much colour to lose in the first place.
“He’s all right. Just a few scratches all told. Clim healed them in the space of a breath.”
Still, the colour didn’t come back. Bloody hell! What had he done?
“Look, I’m here because they said you nearly died. And looking at you, I see they weren’t exaggerating. What the...” He really couldn’t swear in front of the child. He knew enough about babies to know that wasn’t acceptable. “What happened?”
Hermione pulled the child away from her breast - Snape could feel his face warm at the sight of her nipple. He glanced away, noticing for the first time the large bassinet that occupied a corner of the room, close to the bed. Which was where she was headed, laying the child down and pulling her dressing gown close with a now free hand.
“It turns out that there was a reason I was an only child.” She turned to smile a little sheepishly at him. “I’m certain you won’t want to hear all the specifics but suffice it to say that I inherited some genetic problems from my mother’s line. I’m fine now, but it was touch and go there for a few weeks.” She shrugged before offering, a little hesitantly, “Would you like to see them?”
Snape found himself swallowing hard. “Them? Potter used the plural, but I wasn’t certain that was merely the drink speaking.”
Her smile lit up her face and he saw pride there as well as pleasure. “I was hoping for one, but it seemed that life comes with more than its share of surprises. Come and meet your children, Severus.” Then she lost that look of confidence, “If you’d like. I know that our agreement...”
He pushed off the door and advanced quickly before she thought twice and rescinded the offer. Twins. Dear Merlin! He had indeed fathered twins.
So that he didn’t immediately comprehend the presence of three bundles in the bassinet.
Her smile grew into a grin when he did.
“Bloody hell!” he gasped.
She actually giggled. “Yes indeed. Triplets. Born at close to seven months, which is why they’re small, but they are doing very well. All three have put on weight since birth and they are thriving.”
Far better than their mother if that were true.
“I have named them. Would you like to be introduced?”
He could only nod: he seemed to have lost the power of speech.
on to the next part
Series: The third installment in the MAN OF PROPERTY series
Author: Josan
Posted: July, 2005
Rating: Still pretty PG-13
Pairing: SS/HG, so
WARNING 1: HET
Warning 2: I’m mean to a couple of ‘good’ guys.
Feedback: Leave a comment or jmann@pobox.mondenet.com
Disclaimer: JKR is the one making millions off this. Me, I just play with them.
Beta: Many, many thanks to fabularasa, for her suggestions. I think I got most of them in. And those who commented on the Hermione essay; I hope I have answered some of your concerns.
ETA: Shoot, I forgot that I had run the first part of this by kaiz last summer. Sigh, I am so getting old!
A.N.: This was begun way back in the summer of 2004, before Real Life stepped in. Since then there have been a few canon changes, aka HBP, which I have ignored to the best of my ability, except for one point since it didn’t disrupt my plot. You’ll know it when you read it. Other than that, I have no intention of allowing JKR and her vision of canon to interfere with mine. (Actually, a good portion was written prior to HBP, and what does it matter? This is all AU anyways.)
As for this being a WIP, I can’t tell you. I can tell you that this story pops up every now and then in my 3 a.m. bouts of insomnia.
Dedication: to all women who have small babies and deal with them while remaining sane. I don’t know how you do it.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Come out, you fucking bastard!”
“Yeah, come out or...or we’ll have to hurt your little friend here.”
Severus Snape, wearing his dressing gown, shut the main door of his house behind him and carefully made his way to the front gate of his property. He held his hands out at his side, making it obvious that he was not carrying his wand - or anything else, for that matter.
He quickly scanned the area, relieved to see that his unexpected visitors had not attracted any attention, thankful it was long past midnight. Merlin knew, their shouts had certainly awakened him and his household.
“Open the gate, you degenerate arsehole!”
“Yeah, do as he says, you bloody Death Eater!”
Snape came to a standstill, eyes on the two men who were so drunk that they were having trouble standing straight. Which was one of the problems he had to consider because, drunk as they were, one of them was holding a knife to Dobby’s throat.
In fact, the knife had already slipped as there was a line of blood, thin so far, running down and streaking his house elf’s clothing.
“Mr Potter. Mr Weasley. Might I suggest that you allow Dobby to breathe if you intend to continue holding him hostage for my behavior? A dead house elf has little bargaining power.”
He’d kept his voice clear and calm, his eyes holding the terrified ones of his house elf, who had been the first to hear and recognise the voices yelling at the gate, and who had, against his hastily-yelled counsel, gone out to see what they had wanted. When this was over, he fully intended to have a little talk with his house elf about leaving the safety of the wards, but right now he tried to communicate the confidence that this was going to turn out all right.
After a moment during which it was easy to see that the man had to make a conscious effort to think, Potter eased up his hold on Dobby’s neck. That allowed the house elf to drag in a noisy inhalation and to regain a little colour. Even in the light of a half-moon, he could see that Dobby was far too pale. Behind him, he heard a sudden gasp and knew that his other house elves were now witnessing this attack on a member of his household.
“I don’t want to kill Dobby,” snarled Potter, his words slurred as he bit them out. “I want to kill you, you bastard.”
Snape hoped that the others would remain out of range of any action: it was obvious that both men were drunk on more than butterbeer. He’d heard that Weasley had developed a fondness for firewhiskey and Muggle beer - as was evidenced by the paunch that mounded his robes about waist level. Potter, on the other hand, looked pretty much as he always had: still built like a Seeker, though one who didn’t play the game for more than pleasure.
Mind, they both looked their ages, far more than Granger had. Weasley was showing signs of definite hair loss - his forehead seemed to be determined to conquer more territory - while Potter’s was still the messy bird’s nest it had always been, though lighter. Snape didn’t think that had much to do with moonlight. Well, they were all getting older. And if he handled this properly, he and Dobby would have the chance to see many more years.
“Might it be permitted to know exactly why it is you wish to kill me, Mr Potter? Other than the usual ancient history.”
Weasley lunged for the gate, shaking it with his hands. Or trying to. The gates of Brewer’s Haven were well warded against entry unless their owner wished otherwise. In his frustration, Weasley spat at Snape, the glob of spittle landing nowhere near him.
Snape glanced down at the shiny wetness on the dirt of the drive and knew he had to get to the reason for all this before he lost his temper, and the Aurors would finally have a reason to drag him off to Azkaban.
Potter seemed to have reached the end of his forebearance as well. He hauled Dobby up off his feet, causing the house elf’s squeal of terror to be suddenly cut off. This time the knife was held in a trembling hand and Snape feared that there would be no reasoning with either man.
“Did you think you were going to get away with it, you...you piece of shit? That no one would ever guess?”
“Get away with what, Mr Potter?” Snape started to bring his hands to his side, in preparation of flicking his wand into his hand.
“Wand, Ron!”
And, unfortunately, the inebriated Weasley had a momentary flash of sobriety that allowed him to point his wand steadily at Snape. “Hands up, you fucker! Over your head. Or... or...” he shifted the point of his wand to Snape’s side.
Snape didn’t have to be told or what. The muffled sound indicated that one of his elves had quietly come to stand by him. Inside the wards, he and his house elves were protected, but he had no control over the ricochet. Not that he had any particular care for Potter or Weasley.
Snape began slowly raising his hands over his head. “Why, Mr Potter? You still haven’t informed of the reason for this visit of yours.”
Potter took a step forward, his face coming into the light of the moon, his hatred easy for all to see. “She wouldn’t tell us where she’d been. Except that it eventually became a little hard to hide her condition. And then one of the little bastards looks just like you. Same nose, same greasy hair. Jesus, I hope she drowns it.”
Snape said nothing though the house elf at his side gasped.
“You had to rape her, didn’t you? Your bit of revenge for being ignored all these years? You should have been Kissed decades ago, Snape.”
“Is that what she told you, that I raped her?” Snape kept his voice almost disinterested, though his heart was racing. Would she truly have accused him of that? Did she hate him that much?
“She didn’t have to tell us; we guessed. We asked her outright and she told us that you had nothing to do with anything. That we should mind our own business and she would mind hers.”
So Granger was sticking to her end of the bargain, was she? Much, it appeared, to the displeasure of these two.
Potter took another step closer to Weasley, his knife cutting the skin of Dobby’s throat. Superficial cuts as far as Snape could tell. But he could feel the anger in him, an anger he hadn’t felt in months, come to life.
“She nearly died giving birth to your leavings, Snape. She’s still at St. Mungo’s even now. And you’re going to bleed twice for every drop of blood that delivery cost her. Now open the fucking gate or we’ll see just how much blood house elves have in them.”
At last the men were now standing side by side, an easier target. If he could only find a way of distracting them...
“You is evil, Harry Potter!”
Dear Merlin, it was Mindy! She was stepping closer to the gates, her face a rictus of anger.
“You is no hero. You is worse than...worse than Lucius Malfoy!”
Both Potter and Weasley turned to deal with her and Snape proved that he hadn’t lost much ability to respond to a threat over the years. Before either man knew it, he had his wand in his hand and was casting “Stupefy!” Thank Merlin, he’d set the wards to allow him to defend if necessary.
Of course Dobby had also been caught in the spell but that was to the good as Potter’s knife was right against his jugular.
No sooner had he opened the gates than Mindy and the others were there, anxiously hopping from one foot to the other. Ola was crying silently while Clim was grim-faced. They all waited for Snape to free Dobby from Potter, which wasn’t easy as Potter was holding the elf in an almost death-grip.
First, Snape transfigured the knife to a feather, which put an end to the fear of accidentally injuring the house elf. Then he cast a spell - the same Gilderoy Lockhart had used - that eliminated the bones in Potter’s arm. In spite of all that, it took a bit of effort on Snape’s part to separate Dobby from Potter - his arm still held the stiffened muscles of a Seeker - but finally it was done.
A quick word and Dobby was unstupefied and moaning. “He’s in shock.” Snape pulled off his dressing gown and wrapped Dobby in it. “Get him into the house. Clim, get the medicine box from my laboratory. I’ll be in as soon as I deal with these two.”
Mindy lay her hand on his arm. “You is not to kill them.”
He looked down at her and, after a moment, nodded. That satisfied her. And they both knew she hadn’t forbidden him any other kind of punishment.
He waited until they were at the door to deal with the two men. The stench of alcohol had been almost overwhelming when he’d approached them and he decided to use that against them. A little Obliviate and they wouldn’t remember where they had been this night. Though he still wanted some revenge for the fear they had put him and his household through.
A few words and the two disappeared. They would be found the next morning, hung-over and naked, on the steps of the Ministry where they both worked. If life were just, it would be the Deputy Minister who would find them.
Dobby’s wounds were not deep. Clim took care of healing them: he was used to cuts and the such in his gardening. Snape dosed the trembling house elf with some Dreamless Sleep and Ola levitated him up to their quarters.
Mindy followed Snape up to his room, watching him rummage in his closet for robes that could be worn out in public. She handed him a cup of coffee and sat patiently on his bed as he bathed and dressed. She said nothing until he was at the door.
“She would not drown her babe.”
Snape stilled. He closed his eyes and wondered how Mindy had known the one thing Potter had said that had affected him.
Mindy hopped off the bed and came to stand by him. “Whatever you decide,” she said as she reached up and patted his arm. “Now go find out what the truth is.”
#####
He hated St. Mungo’s. The smells alone were enough to make him gag.
Snape swallowed hard as he made his way up to the maternity floor. He hadn’t stepped foot in the place since the day he’d left, and he grew angry once more with the fact that he was here now.
The medi-witch at the desk didn’t answer him right away when he asked for Granger’s room. He had tried to make his face as unthreatening as possible, but from her reaction, he doubted that it had been much of a success. And, truth be told, it was early. Barely seven. The hours of visitation were open for this ward but he was probably going to have to wait until morning rounds were done.
So it did surprise him a little when the woman pointed down the hallway and gave him the room number with the advisory, “It’s a private room so knock before you enter; she may be nursing.”
A private room? That didn’t bode well. You had to be very important or very ill to qualify for a private room. His had been one of those.
He had to wipe the palms of his hands along the sides of his robe before he knocked. The deal they had was that he was to have nothing to do with her after that horror of a night when he’d paid off yet another life debt.
“Come in.”
She was indeed nursing. She was sitting in a rocking chair, a bundle of something small to her breast. She was singing some song, not badly, from the little he heard before she looked up to see who had been knocking. Then her mouth remained opened as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
It was obvious that she’d been ill. She was thinner than she’d been last autumn. The bones of her face were accentuated and her hand, holding the child, looked fragile against the swaddling.
But her mind was no less sharp than it had ever been. She closed her eyes and moaned softly. “Let me guess, you’ve had visitors.”
Snape stayed where he was, not wanting to come closer, not wanting to give in to the sudden and surprising need to see what it was she was holding. “Last night. Or rather this morning. At least they had the courtesy of doing so at a time that did not attract attention.”
He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. Was it a boy or a girl? Should he ask? Would she even tell him if he did?
“How bad was it?”
Snape didn’t answer her.
“Severus. How bad was it?”
Her tone told him she wasn’t happy with his reticence. It was a good thing she’d decided not to go into teaching. With that voice, she could have been him dealing with Longbottom. Oh, why not tell her?
“They were drunk.” He tried hard to keep his own voice even.
“Yes, they would be.”
So she knew them that well, did she? Before he could respond, she looked down at the child and did something with the hand against her breast that resulted in small sucking sounds.
Did that hurt? Funny, he’d never before even thought of a woman nursing.
“Surely the wards held?”
He nodded, trying not to look interested in what she was doing. “But Dobby was so happy to see it was his chum, the great Harry Potter...”
Her head snapped up. “What happened? Severus, did they hurt him?”
Well, she was asking. And why not tell her? After all, this was the result of her idiotic claim of life debt!
“Potter held him hostage, with a knife to his throat.” And then wished he hadn’t succumbed to the need for a little revenge for the fear he had felt that night. She went white and she hadn’t all that much colour to lose in the first place.
“He’s all right. Just a few scratches all told. Clim healed them in the space of a breath.”
Still, the colour didn’t come back. Bloody hell! What had he done?
“Look, I’m here because they said you nearly died. And looking at you, I see they weren’t exaggerating. What the...” He really couldn’t swear in front of the child. He knew enough about babies to know that wasn’t acceptable. “What happened?”
Hermione pulled the child away from her breast - Snape could feel his face warm at the sight of her nipple. He glanced away, noticing for the first time the large bassinet that occupied a corner of the room, close to the bed. Which was where she was headed, laying the child down and pulling her dressing gown close with a now free hand.
“It turns out that there was a reason I was an only child.” She turned to smile a little sheepishly at him. “I’m certain you won’t want to hear all the specifics but suffice it to say that I inherited some genetic problems from my mother’s line. I’m fine now, but it was touch and go there for a few weeks.” She shrugged before offering, a little hesitantly, “Would you like to see them?”
Snape found himself swallowing hard. “Them? Potter used the plural, but I wasn’t certain that was merely the drink speaking.”
Her smile lit up her face and he saw pride there as well as pleasure. “I was hoping for one, but it seemed that life comes with more than its share of surprises. Come and meet your children, Severus.” Then she lost that look of confidence, “If you’d like. I know that our agreement...”
He pushed off the door and advanced quickly before she thought twice and rescinded the offer. Twins. Dear Merlin! He had indeed fathered twins.
So that he didn’t immediately comprehend the presence of three bundles in the bassinet.
Her smile grew into a grin when he did.
“Bloody hell!” he gasped.
She actually giggled. “Yes indeed. Triplets. Born at close to seven months, which is why they’re small, but they are doing very well. All three have put on weight since birth and they are thriving.”
Far better than their mother if that were true.
“I have named them. Would you like to be introduced?”
He could only nod: he seemed to have lost the power of speech.
on to the next part