MAN OF PROPERTY: HOMECOMING, in 2
Title: HOMECOMING
Subtitle: Fourth and probably final installment in the MAN OF PROPERTY series.
Author: Josan
Posted: November 30, 2005
Rating: R
Pairing: HG/SS
feedback: Leave a comment or jmann@pobox.mondenet.com
Disclaimer: the usual one about me not owning and therefore not financially profiting. If only!
Beta: sylvadin
Dedicated to sylvadin's hubbie, who, in the manner of Sir Galahad, came to the rescue.
ssSSss
It was a continuing source of amazement to Severus that three children who had shared a womb could be so different, not just in looks but in personalities.
His eldest child, Minerva, had his nose - poor child!- along with his chin, his hair, but her mother’s eyes. His build as well. She was going to be tall, according to Poppy.
Morgan seemed to be equal parts of both her parents. His eyes, his mouth, in her mother’s facial structure. His hands but Hermione’s build. Morgan’s hair was slightly darker than Hermione’s in colour, but without the curls. No, the curls, lighter than Hermione’s, had gone to Nicholas.
Nicholas, who was still much smaller than the girls, paler, so that he looked frail. Severus shook his head. An illusion that. Thankfully. It was just that compared to the girls... And other than the curls, it was hard to see what he had inherited from his parents. Hermione had pulled out some family photos and decided that Nicholas took after her maternal grandmother’s side of the family, what with the light brown eyes, the dimpled cheeks, the small-boned stature.
One could never take Minerva for anything other than the Alpha child she was. If placed in the same area as her siblings, she took control right away, basically bossing them around with grunts and squeals. When he dealt with her alone, she expected him to treat her as his equal. She wanted conversation and was quite put out if he didn’t listen to her when she offered her contribution. In the evening, if he was putting her down for the night, she insisted on... Well, he wasn’t quite certain what she was telling him, but he took it to be a recounting of her day and its discoveries. He would interject the occasional, “You don’t say.” “Really?” “Do tell.” And she would smile at him in agreement while continuing with her exploits.
Morgan was quieter than Minerva, but no less watchful. Her eyes took in everything though she was more attracted to living things than Minerva. She allowed her sister to boss her only to a certain extent then, when she’d had enough, she was not at all reticent in throwing one of her toys Minerva’s way. Her aim was particularly accurate and always took Minerva by surprise, as though she couldn’t fathom anyone not agreeing with her.
Unlike Minerva, Morgan didn’t converse all that much. If he was giving her her nightly bottle, she listened to his recitation of potion recipes with great intensity. Now and then, when he was driven to explain the special requirements of an ingredient - “Powdered, you understand. Not ground. There’s a important difference as the state affects the dissolve rate.” - Morgan would stop sucking on the nipple in order to listen without distraction. Then, when he was done, she’d reclaim the nipple and continue feeding.
Nicholas, unlike his sisters, was always quiet. He listened continually, but rarely contributed. When his sisters grew too rambunctious for him, he just rolled over and went to sleep. He liked to be held close when Severus was feeding him, and he dozed more deeply in someone’s arms. Severus had discovered early on that his son liked to rest his head against his parent’s heart. Severus assumed that after spending six months, three weeks and four days nestled between his sisters, the sound of a heartbeat was soothing to him.
Hermione and Severus had, without really discussing it, come to an understanding about the children’s care. She was an early riser and so took morning duty. Severus spent that time in the lab, working on whatever it was that required his attention. He had several projects going on with a medical potions firm who used his knowledge and skills on the condition that they not mention their doing so. Severus was still fairly unpopular with the Ministry.
Lunch involved all the household. Now growing by leaps and bounds - well, the girls were, with Nicholas still lagging behind - Hermione had ordered, from some Muggle store that shipped, three seating contraptions that allowed the children to be placed at the table. On Poppy’s recommendation, at six months, they had begun eating what appeared to Severus to be coloured mush, but which Mindy prepared after long and serious discussions with Hermione.
Of course, eating was a rather loose definition of what occurred.
Minerva liked to play with whatever was put into her mouth. It seemed as though she preferred to absorb it through her skin rather than swallow it like any normal human being. Morgan would accept the contents of a small spoon, roll her eyes as she tasted it then smile if she decided it satisfied her rather fussy palate. Otherwise she would spit it out. Her aim with the stuff was as accurate as her aim with a toy. Severus and Hermione always wore towels when it was their turn to feed her.
Nicholas was even fussier, but it was not about taste, but colour. If it was green, he would clamp his lips shut and nothing could get him to open them. Reds were considerably easier, but he needed to smell those first. Anything brown, blue, yellow or orange was perfectly acceptable. His mouth couldn’t open fast enough when he saw those coming.
Afternoons meant naps, under the watchful eye of whichever elf had won the day’s privilege. Hermione would disappear into her study to work on her book while Severus either went back to the lab or worked on correspondence in his study. Now that the children stayed awake all morning long, they could be counted on for a full two hours of sleep in the afternoon.
Severus took over when they woke, allowing Hermione to continue to work on her book uninterrupted. Now that they were more mobile, he had had the elves, in consultation with Poppy, turn the parlour into a play space. There was a soft rug in the middle, warmed with a spell so that little bodies wouldn’t catch cold. The rolled up carpets were transfigured into bolsters that functioned as a prop and as a barrier. Hermione was less nervous at the use of magic around the children, though Severus was aware that she used it herself with some reluctance. But since she was busy in her study, he would use the occasion to magic some of the Muggle toys that littered the play space. Minerva adored it when her teddy suddenly danced for her. Morgan preferred hers to sing. Nicholas just liked to watch and listen, hugging his favourite stuffed toy, a small orange dragon.
Mind, they all settled down quietly if Severus picked up one of the many picture books Hermione had unpacked when the items she had already got for what she had then thought of as one child had been brought over from her flat.
Severus would sit on the floor, back against a bolster side, the children with him. They were still small enough that he could fit all three between his legs where they could use him as a prop. Minerva had to be in the center where she had the best view. Otherwise she grumbled and tried to push whoever had her place out of the way. Thankfully, Morgan liked to settle against his thigh so that she could rest her head against Minerva. Nicholas was happy with the other side, though, after the second run-through, he tended to lie down, dragon in hand, and was content just to listen while he chewed on his dragon’s tail.
The second run-through was because Minerva, squawking, would hit the book until he returned to the first page and began again. Usually several times. Thankfully these books had hard cardboard pages and could withstand Minerva’s demands. Morgan was the one who took over the demanding long after Minerva had crawled herself off to other amusements and Nicholas had fallen asleep. Then she would nestle against him, on his lap, her head on his chest and follow along, not just the words themselves, but Severus’s additional comments on the material.
Tea time was another family affair, with the elves helping as it was difficult for two adults to deal with three fussy, tired children all at the same time. Even Nicholas was not disposed to waiting for his share. Post-feeding bath time was adventuresome. When they’d been very small, Hermione had taken one at a time while Mindy or Ola had kept an eye on the others. Now that they could sit up by themselves, it was easier if they were all placed in the enlarged tub at the same time. Hermione took care of the actual washing while Severus occupied the other two. One child done, they would move around until all the children were sparkling clean.
Of course, by then, their parents were also rather wet. Nicholas loved nothing better than to slap the water with the flat of his hand. Morgan preferred kicking. Minerva had no specific preference; all she cared about was that the water went where she wanted it to, which was over whichever parent was nearer.
They were still on a late night bottle and that gradually became Severus’s domain. Hermione’s publisher, understanding that now there was a good chance that he would have her manuscript in time for the Conference, was more demanding of proofs being delivered on time. Once the children had been settled, and the adults had eaten, Hermione went off to her study, there to work until Mindy would remind her that she needed to sleep in order to deal with the children in the morning.
Severus loved that time with his children. The elves never offered to help, not even with dirty nappies, though he knew that all he had to do was whisper Mindy’s name and she would be there in the blink of an eye.
No, this was for him. For him to remember when they would be long gone.
Unbeknownst to Hermione, he had written to a colleague in France, asking him to send him a wizard camera and the name of an excellent photo developer. He kept the small camera in his pocket at all times and, when he was certain that Hermione was well occupied, he took pictures of his children. He had a box filled with them, from the first week that Hermione had allowed him to help. He’d had to enlarge the box twice already and didn’t doubt that he’d have to several times more before...
He refused to think of that time, when Hermione would return from the Conference and that would be the end of their agreement. He hoped she would allow him to maintain some sort of contact with the children, but if she didn’t, he would have these pictures.
Minerva was the first to walk, at seven and a half months. The need to see what was going on beyond the door was stronger than the many falls she experienced. Hermione and Severus had both grinned at each other and cheered her victory. Without realising immediately that it meant there was no stopping her from now on. She was in perpetual escape mode. If Severus took his eyes off her for even a breath, she would scamper over the bolsters and take off for the door and the world beyond it. It got so that Severus put a light locator spell on her so that when she did successfully escape, he or one of the elves could find her before she got into things she shouldn’t.
Morgan didn’t like the fact that Minerva could have adventures while she still was hampered by her ability just to crawl. Within ten days, she had joined her sister on her own two feet, and helped drive Severus to distraction. Because if they both got away, each took off in a different direction, making it doubly hard to catch them, while leaving Nicholas behind in the safe play area.
Even Hermione finally had to admit defeat when it was her turn with the children. The solution was to ask the elves for help. Dobby loved nothing more than corralling Minerva who, as he did, saw it as a game. That is, until she would trip. But, as with Severus when he’d used the stairs on less than steady legs all those years ago when the elves had joined the household, elfin magic saw to it that Minerva never hit the floor.
Morgan cared less for what might exist behind doors; she saw the stairs as her personal challenge. Severus nearly had a heart attack one day when he hadn’t noticed where she’d gone until Dobby had gasped in fear. She hadn’t made her way up that many, just five steps, but all Severus could see was her small body at the bottom, in a pool of blood. Ola attached herself to Morgan after that and, though the elf couldn’t discourage the child from climbing - Morgan had, Hermione groaned, a one-track mind. Severus forbore to wonder aloud just how she might have got that trait - Ola did see to it that no harm came from Morgan’s attempts and always called Severus or Hermione if need be.
Nicholas caused fewer palpitations of the heart. While his sisters made a break for freedom, he was more than content to sit with his growing collection of stuffed dragons and his building blocks. He’d watch as Severus or Hermione tried to keep his sisters closer at hand then laugh and return to his amusements. He still didn’t walk by himself, but should he get it in his mind to get from point A to point B, his crawl was anything but. Hermione thought he was faster on fours than his sisters were on two. They were lucky that he rarely went exploring at the same time as his sisters, and that he never went adventuring without his orange dragon. Dragging that along tended to slow him down just a little.
ssSSss
Hermione took advantage of Poppy’s showing up for Severus’s annual examination to ask her to look over the children. Nicholas worried her a bit as he seemed to be developing far slower than his sisters.
“Pre-nees often lag behind the norm,” explained Poppy, over tea. She smiled at Mindy who was handing around a plate of chocolate biscuits that the elf had made just for her.
“And he has the added problem of being compared with his sisters, who seem to be developing at a faster than normal rate. Of course,” she nibbled on a biscuit all the while smiling reassuringly at Hermione, “it could just be that he allows his sisters to do everything for him. I mean, why should Nicholas bother to exert himself when both Morgan and Minerva will do what he wants for him?”
Hermione sat back in her chair, tea in hand, feeling a little eased by Poppy’s unconcern. “Not to mention Severus.”
“Are they showing any sign of magic?” Poppy watched her with eyes that glittered with a certain unholy glee.
“At ten months?” The concept horrified Hermione.
Not bothering to hide her smile, Poppy shrugged. “They have some especially powerful parents. Don’t be surprised if it happens sooner rather than later.”
Hermione moaned. “Dear lord! The girls are barely in hand as it is. Don’t wish that on me too soon.”
Poppy suddenly found the contents of her cup very interesting. “I would think,” she said, carefully, “it’s not wish it on both of you.”
“The Conference is a month away.” Hermione ignored the tightening sensation in her belly. She did her best to sound confident and reassuring. “After I return, it will be just me.”
Poppy placed her cup down very carefully. “I see,” her voice was stripped bare of any emotion as were her eyes. “So, it was rape.”
The disappointment in Poppy’s voice confused Hermione as much as the topic of rape did. “What are you talking about, Poppy?”
Sad-faced, Poppy turned in her chair to look at her. “Your pregnancy. It was the result of rape.”
The cold that crept up Hermione’s spine stiffened it as well. “No, it was not. Severus did not rape me.” How dare the woman... “I thought,” her voice dripped icicles, “I had explained it sufficiently to you...”
Poppy ignored her tone as she waved Hermione’s objection away. “I understand. You don’t want the children to learn that they are the product of a rape.”
Hermione placed her cup down on the table. She found herself standing, coldly withdrawing from the scene. “Poppy, I told you what happened. There was no rape. Perhaps you should leave.”
“Then why do you hate him so?” Poppy sat back in her chair and waited for Hermione’s response.
Now she was truly confused. “Hate him? Poppy, please, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Poppy reached up and took Hermione’s hand in hers. For a moment, Hermione debated pulling it away. She had embarrassed herself enough when she had explained to the healer, after the birth of the children, how
she had come to be pregnant. Poppy had been rather sympathetic then.
“Hermione, sit down and listen to me. Please. Thank you. Hermione, if you take the children away from Severus, it will kill him.”
Hermione stilled.
Her voice confiding, Poppy continued. “He is better than I have ever seen him. Healthier, less in pain. But I tended to him when he got ill after your...initial visit. Any kind of shock or stress...”
“Pain?” He’d been ill?
Poppy sighed loudly. “For Merlin’s sake, Hermione, you were the one who carried him to St. Mungo’s. Surely you remember the condition he was in? It took them two years to counter the hexes and curses and deal with his injuries. Why do you think he takes a potion every morning? There are limits to what repairs could accomplish. Yes, he is in pain. He counters it as well as he can with his potions and his bloody pride, but surely you’ve noticed that he moves more slowly than he did at Hogwarts? That he is less elegant than he once was?”
Hermione bit her lower lip. “No, I have to admit that I haven’t. Poppy, I didn’t know. I never thought...”
“Yes, well. Now you know. And I have to tell you that the children have been the best of medicine for him. He’s better than I’ve ever seen him since the War.” She sat back in her chair, eyes on Hermione. “All that love. He’s not had much of that in his life, you know. Oh, Albus cared for him. But not that way. Not unquestioning love. Not unconditional love. And he does love them, Hermione. You just have to see the way he looks at them. Do you doubt that?”
“No,” Hermione focused on her hands, clasped tightly together on her lap. “No. He loves them very much.”
“That probably surprised the hell out of him, loving them. I’m certain if you’d asked him before all this if he could love, he would have laughed in your face. And I probably would have agreed with him.”
Hermione opened her mouth to come to his defense, then closed it.
“Yes,” Poppy nodded sadly. “One has to experience love in order to give it. But now he has.” Once more she reached over to place her hand on Hermione’s cold ones. “I know the arrangement the two of you have. But I want you to reconsider it. It is always better for children to have two parents, especially two such loving ones. The house here is large enough for both of you and the children to have space for yourselves. You and Severus seem to have been sharing this house in some amity. Severus has his lab; you have your office. The elves would love nothing more than to care for the children when you return to the University. I understand that they have kept your position open for you. You can Apparate there easily from here, or you could try to convince Severus to subscribe to the floo network.”
Hermione said nothing. Poppy patted her hand and stood up. “Just think of it, Hermione. That’s all I ask of you.”
She did.
She found herself watching Severus when he was with the children, and when he was not. She watched how the children reached for him when he entered a room, how they all wanted his attention. How he apportioned it to each as each needed. She saw how his eyes lit up when they came to him, how he spoke to them as equals, and how they responded to that. She noticed how he settled on the floor to play with them with a gingerly-care that now she understood. How he was careful when going up the stairs. How he himself never carried the children up those stairs. How there were times when the lines on his face seemed deeper, how they softened when he had one of their children in his arms.
She was surprised to notice that he was more patient with the children than she was. She marvelled at his ability to re-read “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” for them so many times in a row. She tended to read it twice and thought that was ample. And there was a limit to the number of times she was willing to rebuild block towers just so that Nicholas could knock them down, over and over again. She listened to her children, but tended to keep conversations, such as they were, short. She often wished they had actual words so that she could know what they wanted or needed. Severus held real conversations with them. She didn’t doubt that he understood all those garbled sounds that Minerva chirped, that he knew Morgan actually listened to his discussions on potions, that Nicholas could make his needs known to his father in a way only the two of them understood.
She loved her children, adored them. Did not regret for a moment having had them, even if she truly had not been prepared for a multiple birth. But watching Severus interact with them, she wondered which of them was the real nurturer?
Several of her past relationships had ended with her lover complaining that she was cold to his needs. She knew that the logic of her profession was what had attracted her to it. Logic was not a warm, fuzzy attribute. Mind, she had never before considered Potions as being warm or fuzzy, but now that she did think on it, it did require a more emotional, personal investment on the brewer’s part than the objective physics demanded by Arithmancy.
Her book hit the bookshops ten days before the start of the Conference, with the kind of effect her publisher had hoped it would have. She spent the days before leaving for the gathering fending off requests for interviews, answering letters from colleagues and dealing with the occasional howler from arithmancers whose theories and beliefs she had placed in doubt or had outright destroyed.
The day she left for the Conference, Severus silently listened to her list of last minute instructions. She had written them out, read them to him, posted them all over the house in what she considered to be the appropriate places. He never once scowled at her, nor commented that he and the elves knew what to do. Instead he let her natter away, basically insulting his ability, his intelligence and his experience.
Having kissed the children a last time, returned to check that they were indeed napping, spoken yet again to Mindy about their meals, she finally stood in the hallway, her miniaturised luggage in her cloak pocket. Severus was with her, ready to escort her outside so that she could Apparate.
She shut her eyes, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Thank you.”
Severus cocked his head. “What for?”
She smiled, a little embarrassed. “For putting up with me these past days. I admit to being a little nervous...”
He smiled.
“All right, more than a little nervous, but I know that everything will be all right. I’m just...”
“Just leaving the children for the first time. Poppy warned me when she was here that I would have to be patient.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well, I think that patient is an understatement for what you’ve been. Thank you, again.” She reached out and clasped her hand on his arm, giving it a small squeeze. The first time she’d actually touched him on purpose since...
She stepped back. “You have the contact numbers?”
“Hermione. Go.”
She felt her cheeks warm. “Finally reached the end of your patience, have you?” she teased.
He shook his head. “You’re only trying to postpone the confrontations that are awaiting you. Stagnelius is not going to be pleased with the fact that you’ve put into dispute the theory upon which he’s built his reputation. Not to mention the fact that your old professor Laprade cannot be too happy with you either.”
He placed a hand on the small of her back as he steered her out the door. “Go and remember that you survived Voldemort.”
She looked back at him just before she Apparated away. He stood there, hands in sleeves, watching her. She raised her hand in salute and he nodded, a faint smile on his face.
ssSSss
She Apparated back in the dead of night. As she entered the house, she whispered, “No need to let anyone know I’m back, House.”
She hung up her cloak and took a moment to resize her luggage and the boxes of gifts she had brought back with her, but left them all in the foyer. With a sigh of relief - it was good to be back home! - she made her way silently up the stairs to the children’s bedroom and her heart froze.
The cribs were empty. No children. Not in each bed, not in one bed!
She nearly screamed aloud then took a deep breath and shook her head. No reason to panic, she reassured herself. There was an explanation. If they’d been ill, Mindy would have contacted her. America was far away, but she’d given Mindy the means to do so.
She stepped out into the hallway, still calming herself down. If Severus were in his bedroom... If he weren’t, maybe the lab...
She had never been in his bedroom. Never even knocked on the door. She didn’t do so now and, taking a breath, eased open the latch and slowly pushed against the door, peering, heart in throat, around the door itself. If he weren’t there, if the children... She’d trusted him and...
Dear lord! There they were, all of them, in his bed.
She rested her head against the edge of the door and waited for her heart to settle into its normal rhythm. Silently, she apologised to the man and hoped that he would never know that, for a brief, agonising moment, she had doubted his honour.
The room was larger than her own, with a light coming from what appeared to be an ensuite bathroom. Morgan was more comfortable with a small nightlight.
The bed was stamped Hogwarts if ever she had seen a bed. Probably his from his time there. The curtains were drawn back, allowing her to see Severus lying semi-propped up on his back, on a couple of pillows, his nightshirt rucked up over his knees.
The blankets had been pushed back. It had been particularly warm for April and there was a soft, warm breeze coming in from the window that was open several inches. The children, who were always warm, were clad only in their nappies.
Hermione entered the room and went up to the bed. She leaned against a foot post and smiled at the picture that lay before her.
Severus had a child in each arm. Minerva, in his right, had her head resting against his shoulder, face tucked against the material of his nightshirt, making the soft sounds of a child deeply asleep. Morgan, in his left, had her head on his biceps, her little hand clasping his arm, back snug against his side. Nicholas lay on his chest, over his heart, face tucked into Severus’s neck, his hand closed around the end of Severus’s braid. Severus’s left hand was holding Nicholas’s foot.
Hermione wondered if she could ever feel more love for all of them than she felt right then and there. Her children. Who had brought so much to her and to the man who was so important to them.
She had chosen this man to father her child, her children, because of his powers and intelligence. If she’d have to do over again, she would choose him because he was so very right for them, with them.
Maybe for her as well.
She sat down on the bed, near his knees, and watched as her presence made itself known to him. It may have been over twenty-five years, but the spy was still part of him, part of his being. She wasn’t disappointed. It took barely a couple of minutes before those eyes opened and he looked at her.
“You’re back early,” he whispered.
Hermione nodded. “Only by a day. I think Poppy would be very proud of me.”
He didn’t smile.
Hermione placed her hand on his shin, noticing the difference in the colour of their skins; her hand dark against the paleness of his. The man needed to get out in the sun more often.
She looked up at him. “First of all, I want you to know that the children will always be a part of your life, Severus.” She didn’t think she imagined the relief and surprise in his eyes, though his face gave nothing away.
“They are your children and they love you almost as much as you love them. They need a father and they have the best of those in you. No matter what we decide tonight...this morning, rather...you will be involved in their lives, in the decisions that we as parents make, in whatever manner that we agree to.”
“Thank you.”
Hermione spared a moment to wonder at the sudden sheen in those dark eyes, but the roughness of his voice was enough for her. This had been the right decision.
“We have to decide on the manner of this involvement.” Her fingertips felt a scar and explored the raised ridge as it travelled along his calf. “The way I see it, we have three alternatives to consider.”
He said nothing, his eyes on her, his body not moving other than the rise and fall of his chest.
“One. We can set up what among Muggles is called joint custody. That means that we sit down and decide when you have the children and when I have them. Often it’s a week with each parent at a time until school begins. Then we determine who has them for which holiday.”
It was obvious that idea didn’t please him. His lips tightened and there was more than a hint of a grimace on his face. It wasn’t her preferred option either, but it was only fair to mention it.
“Two. We remain as we are now. You and I living in this house together, with separate lives, sharing that of the children. We would have to make a few changes to our routines as I will be returning to the University for summer term. They have been very understanding. The original sabbatical was for a year, for the writing of my book. It’s now been closer to two and my graduate students are in need of me.”
She found herself wishing he’d say something. Anything. Finally he nodded his head.
“I’m certain that the elves will be delighted to be more involved with the children, allowing you time for your own work. Or we can hire someone...”
“Not worth the effort,” he scoffed, softly, as she had been speaking. “They’ll only find a way of getting rid of that person.”
Hermione smiled. “True.”
“You would have no objections to their becoming nursemaids to the children?”
Hermione looked down at her hand. It had followed the scar to his knee. A bony thing that looked even larger considering the thinness of his leg. She shook her head before meeting his eyes. “No. None. I know that they would die before they allowed any harm to come to the children. And it would not be as though they would be the only caregivers.”
“Not as though they would be brought up by the house elves,” he agreed.
Hermione cocked her head, wondering how he would react to the next bit.
“Our lives, other than where they touched on the children, would be separate. Discreet.”
He frowned.
“I’m referring to our sexual lives, Severus.”
That infamous eyebrow went up. Before he could say anything, she forged on. “I enjoy sex and I assume that you do as well. I have had a sexual life in the past and I hope to have one in the future. But I promise you that I shall keep that part of my life away from the house. I realise that the house is also your workspace, but I also feel certain that your discretion will find a way of dealing with that situation.”
She didn’t give him time to respond to that. “Of course, we shall share expenses and there may be times when I have to entertain colleagues or my editor. If their coming here is not acceptable to you, I will do so outside.”
Before he could react to that, she rushed on. “Then there is Three.”
She could feel him stiffen as though preparing himself for some shock. Nicholas made a soft, snuffling sound and they both held their breaths, wondering if he would wake. He didn’t. His little hand opened and closed a few times, he sniffed, he rubbed his nose against Severus’s throat and then, with a sigh, settled.
“Three?” Severus offered.
Hermione kept her eyes on his. “Three is like Two, but we wed and share this bed.”
He made her wait for his reaction. “This bed.”
She nodded, refusing to be deterred by the mask that had suddenly become his face.
“I know that our first time was not an experience either of us wishes to repeat. Even if the consequences were more than worthwhile, I think you will agree.”
He nodded. She noticed that his arms and hand tightened a little about the children.
“Unless you have other sexual preferences...” If he preferred men, this was most definitely not going to be an option.
He understood. “If that is your delicate way of inquiring if I am queer, then no, I am not.”
She nodded. “Then it is something to consider, unless you do not find me sexual attractive in any manner. I will understand if you do not. As I said, our previous experience was not... ”
“And you do?” His voice was a little rougher. She could hear a hint of anger in it.
“Do?”
“Find me ‘sexual attractive’?”
Oh, even soft, the Snape sneer was out in full force. And she didn’t blame him. When she’d thought of this at the Conference, she’d even surprised herself.
“Women don’t see sexual attraction in the same manner as men do, you know, Severus. I know that for men it has a lot to do with the external. If a woman’s body turns him on. Her breasts, her arse, her legs. Does his penis respond to any of those?” Her hand found its way under the bunched up nightshirt to his thigh, where it remained.
She smiled. “A woman likes the physical as well as any man, but she needs more than that as well. Her brain needs to be turned on as much as her body. Maybe even more.”
“And do I turn on your brain, Miss Granger?”
She detected a certain curiosity under the scorn. She looked at him, at the harsh face, the bony structure, the dark, intelligent eyes, the way he held their children. For a moment, she felt incredible jealousy of her children. Would he ever hold her with the same care, the same protectiveness, the
same gentleness? Never with the same love, she knew that and accepted it. If she had been bound for some great love, surely she would have found it by now? But she wanted affection. Needed it. Would he be able to give her that at the very least?
“Yes, Professor Snape, you do.”
He went to scoff but she leaned over and, careful not to jar the children, she kissed him. After the momentary surprise, he didn’t pull away. Her hand tightened on his thigh and slowly stroked its way further up that path. It stopped before it encountered any other part of his body.
She ended the kiss, pulled back enough to see his eyes, looked down at the slight movement under his nightshirt, then met his challenge. “And I think this may be an area worth exploring before we make a decision.”
“Hermione...”
She shook her head. “It all depends on you, Severus. Your decision. Your yea or nay.” She sat back, placed both hands on her lap and waited.
on to the next part
Subtitle: Fourth and probably final installment in the MAN OF PROPERTY series.
Author: Josan
Posted: November 30, 2005
Rating: R
Pairing: HG/SS
feedback: Leave a comment or jmann@pobox.mondenet.com
Disclaimer: the usual one about me not owning and therefore not financially profiting. If only!
Beta: sylvadin
Dedicated to sylvadin's hubbie, who, in the manner of Sir Galahad, came to the rescue.
ssSSss
It was a continuing source of amazement to Severus that three children who had shared a womb could be so different, not just in looks but in personalities.
His eldest child, Minerva, had his nose - poor child!- along with his chin, his hair, but her mother’s eyes. His build as well. She was going to be tall, according to Poppy.
Morgan seemed to be equal parts of both her parents. His eyes, his mouth, in her mother’s facial structure. His hands but Hermione’s build. Morgan’s hair was slightly darker than Hermione’s in colour, but without the curls. No, the curls, lighter than Hermione’s, had gone to Nicholas.
Nicholas, who was still much smaller than the girls, paler, so that he looked frail. Severus shook his head. An illusion that. Thankfully. It was just that compared to the girls... And other than the curls, it was hard to see what he had inherited from his parents. Hermione had pulled out some family photos and decided that Nicholas took after her maternal grandmother’s side of the family, what with the light brown eyes, the dimpled cheeks, the small-boned stature.
One could never take Minerva for anything other than the Alpha child she was. If placed in the same area as her siblings, she took control right away, basically bossing them around with grunts and squeals. When he dealt with her alone, she expected him to treat her as his equal. She wanted conversation and was quite put out if he didn’t listen to her when she offered her contribution. In the evening, if he was putting her down for the night, she insisted on... Well, he wasn’t quite certain what she was telling him, but he took it to be a recounting of her day and its discoveries. He would interject the occasional, “You don’t say.” “Really?” “Do tell.” And she would smile at him in agreement while continuing with her exploits.
Morgan was quieter than Minerva, but no less watchful. Her eyes took in everything though she was more attracted to living things than Minerva. She allowed her sister to boss her only to a certain extent then, when she’d had enough, she was not at all reticent in throwing one of her toys Minerva’s way. Her aim was particularly accurate and always took Minerva by surprise, as though she couldn’t fathom anyone not agreeing with her.
Unlike Minerva, Morgan didn’t converse all that much. If he was giving her her nightly bottle, she listened to his recitation of potion recipes with great intensity. Now and then, when he was driven to explain the special requirements of an ingredient - “Powdered, you understand. Not ground. There’s a important difference as the state affects the dissolve rate.” - Morgan would stop sucking on the nipple in order to listen without distraction. Then, when he was done, she’d reclaim the nipple and continue feeding.
Nicholas, unlike his sisters, was always quiet. He listened continually, but rarely contributed. When his sisters grew too rambunctious for him, he just rolled over and went to sleep. He liked to be held close when Severus was feeding him, and he dozed more deeply in someone’s arms. Severus had discovered early on that his son liked to rest his head against his parent’s heart. Severus assumed that after spending six months, three weeks and four days nestled between his sisters, the sound of a heartbeat was soothing to him.
Hermione and Severus had, without really discussing it, come to an understanding about the children’s care. She was an early riser and so took morning duty. Severus spent that time in the lab, working on whatever it was that required his attention. He had several projects going on with a medical potions firm who used his knowledge and skills on the condition that they not mention their doing so. Severus was still fairly unpopular with the Ministry.
Lunch involved all the household. Now growing by leaps and bounds - well, the girls were, with Nicholas still lagging behind - Hermione had ordered, from some Muggle store that shipped, three seating contraptions that allowed the children to be placed at the table. On Poppy’s recommendation, at six months, they had begun eating what appeared to Severus to be coloured mush, but which Mindy prepared after long and serious discussions with Hermione.
Of course, eating was a rather loose definition of what occurred.
Minerva liked to play with whatever was put into her mouth. It seemed as though she preferred to absorb it through her skin rather than swallow it like any normal human being. Morgan would accept the contents of a small spoon, roll her eyes as she tasted it then smile if she decided it satisfied her rather fussy palate. Otherwise she would spit it out. Her aim with the stuff was as accurate as her aim with a toy. Severus and Hermione always wore towels when it was their turn to feed her.
Nicholas was even fussier, but it was not about taste, but colour. If it was green, he would clamp his lips shut and nothing could get him to open them. Reds were considerably easier, but he needed to smell those first. Anything brown, blue, yellow or orange was perfectly acceptable. His mouth couldn’t open fast enough when he saw those coming.
Afternoons meant naps, under the watchful eye of whichever elf had won the day’s privilege. Hermione would disappear into her study to work on her book while Severus either went back to the lab or worked on correspondence in his study. Now that the children stayed awake all morning long, they could be counted on for a full two hours of sleep in the afternoon.
Severus took over when they woke, allowing Hermione to continue to work on her book uninterrupted. Now that they were more mobile, he had had the elves, in consultation with Poppy, turn the parlour into a play space. There was a soft rug in the middle, warmed with a spell so that little bodies wouldn’t catch cold. The rolled up carpets were transfigured into bolsters that functioned as a prop and as a barrier. Hermione was less nervous at the use of magic around the children, though Severus was aware that she used it herself with some reluctance. But since she was busy in her study, he would use the occasion to magic some of the Muggle toys that littered the play space. Minerva adored it when her teddy suddenly danced for her. Morgan preferred hers to sing. Nicholas just liked to watch and listen, hugging his favourite stuffed toy, a small orange dragon.
Mind, they all settled down quietly if Severus picked up one of the many picture books Hermione had unpacked when the items she had already got for what she had then thought of as one child had been brought over from her flat.
Severus would sit on the floor, back against a bolster side, the children with him. They were still small enough that he could fit all three between his legs where they could use him as a prop. Minerva had to be in the center where she had the best view. Otherwise she grumbled and tried to push whoever had her place out of the way. Thankfully, Morgan liked to settle against his thigh so that she could rest her head against Minerva. Nicholas was happy with the other side, though, after the second run-through, he tended to lie down, dragon in hand, and was content just to listen while he chewed on his dragon’s tail.
The second run-through was because Minerva, squawking, would hit the book until he returned to the first page and began again. Usually several times. Thankfully these books had hard cardboard pages and could withstand Minerva’s demands. Morgan was the one who took over the demanding long after Minerva had crawled herself off to other amusements and Nicholas had fallen asleep. Then she would nestle against him, on his lap, her head on his chest and follow along, not just the words themselves, but Severus’s additional comments on the material.
Tea time was another family affair, with the elves helping as it was difficult for two adults to deal with three fussy, tired children all at the same time. Even Nicholas was not disposed to waiting for his share. Post-feeding bath time was adventuresome. When they’d been very small, Hermione had taken one at a time while Mindy or Ola had kept an eye on the others. Now that they could sit up by themselves, it was easier if they were all placed in the enlarged tub at the same time. Hermione took care of the actual washing while Severus occupied the other two. One child done, they would move around until all the children were sparkling clean.
Of course, by then, their parents were also rather wet. Nicholas loved nothing better than to slap the water with the flat of his hand. Morgan preferred kicking. Minerva had no specific preference; all she cared about was that the water went where she wanted it to, which was over whichever parent was nearer.
They were still on a late night bottle and that gradually became Severus’s domain. Hermione’s publisher, understanding that now there was a good chance that he would have her manuscript in time for the Conference, was more demanding of proofs being delivered on time. Once the children had been settled, and the adults had eaten, Hermione went off to her study, there to work until Mindy would remind her that she needed to sleep in order to deal with the children in the morning.
Severus loved that time with his children. The elves never offered to help, not even with dirty nappies, though he knew that all he had to do was whisper Mindy’s name and she would be there in the blink of an eye.
No, this was for him. For him to remember when they would be long gone.
Unbeknownst to Hermione, he had written to a colleague in France, asking him to send him a wizard camera and the name of an excellent photo developer. He kept the small camera in his pocket at all times and, when he was certain that Hermione was well occupied, he took pictures of his children. He had a box filled with them, from the first week that Hermione had allowed him to help. He’d had to enlarge the box twice already and didn’t doubt that he’d have to several times more before...
He refused to think of that time, when Hermione would return from the Conference and that would be the end of their agreement. He hoped she would allow him to maintain some sort of contact with the children, but if she didn’t, he would have these pictures.
Minerva was the first to walk, at seven and a half months. The need to see what was going on beyond the door was stronger than the many falls she experienced. Hermione and Severus had both grinned at each other and cheered her victory. Without realising immediately that it meant there was no stopping her from now on. She was in perpetual escape mode. If Severus took his eyes off her for even a breath, she would scamper over the bolsters and take off for the door and the world beyond it. It got so that Severus put a light locator spell on her so that when she did successfully escape, he or one of the elves could find her before she got into things she shouldn’t.
Morgan didn’t like the fact that Minerva could have adventures while she still was hampered by her ability just to crawl. Within ten days, she had joined her sister on her own two feet, and helped drive Severus to distraction. Because if they both got away, each took off in a different direction, making it doubly hard to catch them, while leaving Nicholas behind in the safe play area.
Even Hermione finally had to admit defeat when it was her turn with the children. The solution was to ask the elves for help. Dobby loved nothing more than corralling Minerva who, as he did, saw it as a game. That is, until she would trip. But, as with Severus when he’d used the stairs on less than steady legs all those years ago when the elves had joined the household, elfin magic saw to it that Minerva never hit the floor.
Morgan cared less for what might exist behind doors; she saw the stairs as her personal challenge. Severus nearly had a heart attack one day when he hadn’t noticed where she’d gone until Dobby had gasped in fear. She hadn’t made her way up that many, just five steps, but all Severus could see was her small body at the bottom, in a pool of blood. Ola attached herself to Morgan after that and, though the elf couldn’t discourage the child from climbing - Morgan had, Hermione groaned, a one-track mind. Severus forbore to wonder aloud just how she might have got that trait - Ola did see to it that no harm came from Morgan’s attempts and always called Severus or Hermione if need be.
Nicholas caused fewer palpitations of the heart. While his sisters made a break for freedom, he was more than content to sit with his growing collection of stuffed dragons and his building blocks. He’d watch as Severus or Hermione tried to keep his sisters closer at hand then laugh and return to his amusements. He still didn’t walk by himself, but should he get it in his mind to get from point A to point B, his crawl was anything but. Hermione thought he was faster on fours than his sisters were on two. They were lucky that he rarely went exploring at the same time as his sisters, and that he never went adventuring without his orange dragon. Dragging that along tended to slow him down just a little.
ssSSss
Hermione took advantage of Poppy’s showing up for Severus’s annual examination to ask her to look over the children. Nicholas worried her a bit as he seemed to be developing far slower than his sisters.
“Pre-nees often lag behind the norm,” explained Poppy, over tea. She smiled at Mindy who was handing around a plate of chocolate biscuits that the elf had made just for her.
“And he has the added problem of being compared with his sisters, who seem to be developing at a faster than normal rate. Of course,” she nibbled on a biscuit all the while smiling reassuringly at Hermione, “it could just be that he allows his sisters to do everything for him. I mean, why should Nicholas bother to exert himself when both Morgan and Minerva will do what he wants for him?”
Hermione sat back in her chair, tea in hand, feeling a little eased by Poppy’s unconcern. “Not to mention Severus.”
“Are they showing any sign of magic?” Poppy watched her with eyes that glittered with a certain unholy glee.
“At ten months?” The concept horrified Hermione.
Not bothering to hide her smile, Poppy shrugged. “They have some especially powerful parents. Don’t be surprised if it happens sooner rather than later.”
Hermione moaned. “Dear lord! The girls are barely in hand as it is. Don’t wish that on me too soon.”
Poppy suddenly found the contents of her cup very interesting. “I would think,” she said, carefully, “it’s not wish it on both of you.”
“The Conference is a month away.” Hermione ignored the tightening sensation in her belly. She did her best to sound confident and reassuring. “After I return, it will be just me.”
Poppy placed her cup down very carefully. “I see,” her voice was stripped bare of any emotion as were her eyes. “So, it was rape.”
The disappointment in Poppy’s voice confused Hermione as much as the topic of rape did. “What are you talking about, Poppy?”
Sad-faced, Poppy turned in her chair to look at her. “Your pregnancy. It was the result of rape.”
The cold that crept up Hermione’s spine stiffened it as well. “No, it was not. Severus did not rape me.” How dare the woman... “I thought,” her voice dripped icicles, “I had explained it sufficiently to you...”
Poppy ignored her tone as she waved Hermione’s objection away. “I understand. You don’t want the children to learn that they are the product of a rape.”
Hermione placed her cup down on the table. She found herself standing, coldly withdrawing from the scene. “Poppy, I told you what happened. There was no rape. Perhaps you should leave.”
“Then why do you hate him so?” Poppy sat back in her chair and waited for Hermione’s response.
Now she was truly confused. “Hate him? Poppy, please, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Poppy reached up and took Hermione’s hand in hers. For a moment, Hermione debated pulling it away. She had embarrassed herself enough when she had explained to the healer, after the birth of the children, how
she had come to be pregnant. Poppy had been rather sympathetic then.
“Hermione, sit down and listen to me. Please. Thank you. Hermione, if you take the children away from Severus, it will kill him.”
Hermione stilled.
Her voice confiding, Poppy continued. “He is better than I have ever seen him. Healthier, less in pain. But I tended to him when he got ill after your...initial visit. Any kind of shock or stress...”
“Pain?” He’d been ill?
Poppy sighed loudly. “For Merlin’s sake, Hermione, you were the one who carried him to St. Mungo’s. Surely you remember the condition he was in? It took them two years to counter the hexes and curses and deal with his injuries. Why do you think he takes a potion every morning? There are limits to what repairs could accomplish. Yes, he is in pain. He counters it as well as he can with his potions and his bloody pride, but surely you’ve noticed that he moves more slowly than he did at Hogwarts? That he is less elegant than he once was?”
Hermione bit her lower lip. “No, I have to admit that I haven’t. Poppy, I didn’t know. I never thought...”
“Yes, well. Now you know. And I have to tell you that the children have been the best of medicine for him. He’s better than I’ve ever seen him since the War.” She sat back in her chair, eyes on Hermione. “All that love. He’s not had much of that in his life, you know. Oh, Albus cared for him. But not that way. Not unquestioning love. Not unconditional love. And he does love them, Hermione. You just have to see the way he looks at them. Do you doubt that?”
“No,” Hermione focused on her hands, clasped tightly together on her lap. “No. He loves them very much.”
“That probably surprised the hell out of him, loving them. I’m certain if you’d asked him before all this if he could love, he would have laughed in your face. And I probably would have agreed with him.”
Hermione opened her mouth to come to his defense, then closed it.
“Yes,” Poppy nodded sadly. “One has to experience love in order to give it. But now he has.” Once more she reached over to place her hand on Hermione’s cold ones. “I know the arrangement the two of you have. But I want you to reconsider it. It is always better for children to have two parents, especially two such loving ones. The house here is large enough for both of you and the children to have space for yourselves. You and Severus seem to have been sharing this house in some amity. Severus has his lab; you have your office. The elves would love nothing more than to care for the children when you return to the University. I understand that they have kept your position open for you. You can Apparate there easily from here, or you could try to convince Severus to subscribe to the floo network.”
Hermione said nothing. Poppy patted her hand and stood up. “Just think of it, Hermione. That’s all I ask of you.”
She did.
She found herself watching Severus when he was with the children, and when he was not. She watched how the children reached for him when he entered a room, how they all wanted his attention. How he apportioned it to each as each needed. She saw how his eyes lit up when they came to him, how he spoke to them as equals, and how they responded to that. She noticed how he settled on the floor to play with them with a gingerly-care that now she understood. How he was careful when going up the stairs. How he himself never carried the children up those stairs. How there were times when the lines on his face seemed deeper, how they softened when he had one of their children in his arms.
She was surprised to notice that he was more patient with the children than she was. She marvelled at his ability to re-read “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” for them so many times in a row. She tended to read it twice and thought that was ample. And there was a limit to the number of times she was willing to rebuild block towers just so that Nicholas could knock them down, over and over again. She listened to her children, but tended to keep conversations, such as they were, short. She often wished they had actual words so that she could know what they wanted or needed. Severus held real conversations with them. She didn’t doubt that he understood all those garbled sounds that Minerva chirped, that he knew Morgan actually listened to his discussions on potions, that Nicholas could make his needs known to his father in a way only the two of them understood.
She loved her children, adored them. Did not regret for a moment having had them, even if she truly had not been prepared for a multiple birth. But watching Severus interact with them, she wondered which of them was the real nurturer?
Several of her past relationships had ended with her lover complaining that she was cold to his needs. She knew that the logic of her profession was what had attracted her to it. Logic was not a warm, fuzzy attribute. Mind, she had never before considered Potions as being warm or fuzzy, but now that she did think on it, it did require a more emotional, personal investment on the brewer’s part than the objective physics demanded by Arithmancy.
Her book hit the bookshops ten days before the start of the Conference, with the kind of effect her publisher had hoped it would have. She spent the days before leaving for the gathering fending off requests for interviews, answering letters from colleagues and dealing with the occasional howler from arithmancers whose theories and beliefs she had placed in doubt or had outright destroyed.
The day she left for the Conference, Severus silently listened to her list of last minute instructions. She had written them out, read them to him, posted them all over the house in what she considered to be the appropriate places. He never once scowled at her, nor commented that he and the elves knew what to do. Instead he let her natter away, basically insulting his ability, his intelligence and his experience.
Having kissed the children a last time, returned to check that they were indeed napping, spoken yet again to Mindy about their meals, she finally stood in the hallway, her miniaturised luggage in her cloak pocket. Severus was with her, ready to escort her outside so that she could Apparate.
She shut her eyes, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Thank you.”
Severus cocked his head. “What for?”
She smiled, a little embarrassed. “For putting up with me these past days. I admit to being a little nervous...”
He smiled.
“All right, more than a little nervous, but I know that everything will be all right. I’m just...”
“Just leaving the children for the first time. Poppy warned me when she was here that I would have to be patient.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well, I think that patient is an understatement for what you’ve been. Thank you, again.” She reached out and clasped her hand on his arm, giving it a small squeeze. The first time she’d actually touched him on purpose since...
She stepped back. “You have the contact numbers?”
“Hermione. Go.”
She felt her cheeks warm. “Finally reached the end of your patience, have you?” she teased.
He shook his head. “You’re only trying to postpone the confrontations that are awaiting you. Stagnelius is not going to be pleased with the fact that you’ve put into dispute the theory upon which he’s built his reputation. Not to mention the fact that your old professor Laprade cannot be too happy with you either.”
He placed a hand on the small of her back as he steered her out the door. “Go and remember that you survived Voldemort.”
She looked back at him just before she Apparated away. He stood there, hands in sleeves, watching her. She raised her hand in salute and he nodded, a faint smile on his face.
ssSSss
She Apparated back in the dead of night. As she entered the house, she whispered, “No need to let anyone know I’m back, House.”
She hung up her cloak and took a moment to resize her luggage and the boxes of gifts she had brought back with her, but left them all in the foyer. With a sigh of relief - it was good to be back home! - she made her way silently up the stairs to the children’s bedroom and her heart froze.
The cribs were empty. No children. Not in each bed, not in one bed!
She nearly screamed aloud then took a deep breath and shook her head. No reason to panic, she reassured herself. There was an explanation. If they’d been ill, Mindy would have contacted her. America was far away, but she’d given Mindy the means to do so.
She stepped out into the hallway, still calming herself down. If Severus were in his bedroom... If he weren’t, maybe the lab...
She had never been in his bedroom. Never even knocked on the door. She didn’t do so now and, taking a breath, eased open the latch and slowly pushed against the door, peering, heart in throat, around the door itself. If he weren’t there, if the children... She’d trusted him and...
Dear lord! There they were, all of them, in his bed.
She rested her head against the edge of the door and waited for her heart to settle into its normal rhythm. Silently, she apologised to the man and hoped that he would never know that, for a brief, agonising moment, she had doubted his honour.
The room was larger than her own, with a light coming from what appeared to be an ensuite bathroom. Morgan was more comfortable with a small nightlight.
The bed was stamped Hogwarts if ever she had seen a bed. Probably his from his time there. The curtains were drawn back, allowing her to see Severus lying semi-propped up on his back, on a couple of pillows, his nightshirt rucked up over his knees.
The blankets had been pushed back. It had been particularly warm for April and there was a soft, warm breeze coming in from the window that was open several inches. The children, who were always warm, were clad only in their nappies.
Hermione entered the room and went up to the bed. She leaned against a foot post and smiled at the picture that lay before her.
Severus had a child in each arm. Minerva, in his right, had her head resting against his shoulder, face tucked against the material of his nightshirt, making the soft sounds of a child deeply asleep. Morgan, in his left, had her head on his biceps, her little hand clasping his arm, back snug against his side. Nicholas lay on his chest, over his heart, face tucked into Severus’s neck, his hand closed around the end of Severus’s braid. Severus’s left hand was holding Nicholas’s foot.
Hermione wondered if she could ever feel more love for all of them than she felt right then and there. Her children. Who had brought so much to her and to the man who was so important to them.
She had chosen this man to father her child, her children, because of his powers and intelligence. If she’d have to do over again, she would choose him because he was so very right for them, with them.
Maybe for her as well.
She sat down on the bed, near his knees, and watched as her presence made itself known to him. It may have been over twenty-five years, but the spy was still part of him, part of his being. She wasn’t disappointed. It took barely a couple of minutes before those eyes opened and he looked at her.
“You’re back early,” he whispered.
Hermione nodded. “Only by a day. I think Poppy would be very proud of me.”
He didn’t smile.
Hermione placed her hand on his shin, noticing the difference in the colour of their skins; her hand dark against the paleness of his. The man needed to get out in the sun more often.
She looked up at him. “First of all, I want you to know that the children will always be a part of your life, Severus.” She didn’t think she imagined the relief and surprise in his eyes, though his face gave nothing away.
“They are your children and they love you almost as much as you love them. They need a father and they have the best of those in you. No matter what we decide tonight...this morning, rather...you will be involved in their lives, in the decisions that we as parents make, in whatever manner that we agree to.”
“Thank you.”
Hermione spared a moment to wonder at the sudden sheen in those dark eyes, but the roughness of his voice was enough for her. This had been the right decision.
“We have to decide on the manner of this involvement.” Her fingertips felt a scar and explored the raised ridge as it travelled along his calf. “The way I see it, we have three alternatives to consider.”
He said nothing, his eyes on her, his body not moving other than the rise and fall of his chest.
“One. We can set up what among Muggles is called joint custody. That means that we sit down and decide when you have the children and when I have them. Often it’s a week with each parent at a time until school begins. Then we determine who has them for which holiday.”
It was obvious that idea didn’t please him. His lips tightened and there was more than a hint of a grimace on his face. It wasn’t her preferred option either, but it was only fair to mention it.
“Two. We remain as we are now. You and I living in this house together, with separate lives, sharing that of the children. We would have to make a few changes to our routines as I will be returning to the University for summer term. They have been very understanding. The original sabbatical was for a year, for the writing of my book. It’s now been closer to two and my graduate students are in need of me.”
She found herself wishing he’d say something. Anything. Finally he nodded his head.
“I’m certain that the elves will be delighted to be more involved with the children, allowing you time for your own work. Or we can hire someone...”
“Not worth the effort,” he scoffed, softly, as she had been speaking. “They’ll only find a way of getting rid of that person.”
Hermione smiled. “True.”
“You would have no objections to their becoming nursemaids to the children?”
Hermione looked down at her hand. It had followed the scar to his knee. A bony thing that looked even larger considering the thinness of his leg. She shook her head before meeting his eyes. “No. None. I know that they would die before they allowed any harm to come to the children. And it would not be as though they would be the only caregivers.”
“Not as though they would be brought up by the house elves,” he agreed.
Hermione cocked her head, wondering how he would react to the next bit.
“Our lives, other than where they touched on the children, would be separate. Discreet.”
He frowned.
“I’m referring to our sexual lives, Severus.”
That infamous eyebrow went up. Before he could say anything, she forged on. “I enjoy sex and I assume that you do as well. I have had a sexual life in the past and I hope to have one in the future. But I promise you that I shall keep that part of my life away from the house. I realise that the house is also your workspace, but I also feel certain that your discretion will find a way of dealing with that situation.”
She didn’t give him time to respond to that. “Of course, we shall share expenses and there may be times when I have to entertain colleagues or my editor. If their coming here is not acceptable to you, I will do so outside.”
Before he could react to that, she rushed on. “Then there is Three.”
She could feel him stiffen as though preparing himself for some shock. Nicholas made a soft, snuffling sound and they both held their breaths, wondering if he would wake. He didn’t. His little hand opened and closed a few times, he sniffed, he rubbed his nose against Severus’s throat and then, with a sigh, settled.
“Three?” Severus offered.
Hermione kept her eyes on his. “Three is like Two, but we wed and share this bed.”
He made her wait for his reaction. “This bed.”
She nodded, refusing to be deterred by the mask that had suddenly become his face.
“I know that our first time was not an experience either of us wishes to repeat. Even if the consequences were more than worthwhile, I think you will agree.”
He nodded. She noticed that his arms and hand tightened a little about the children.
“Unless you have other sexual preferences...” If he preferred men, this was most definitely not going to be an option.
He understood. “If that is your delicate way of inquiring if I am queer, then no, I am not.”
She nodded. “Then it is something to consider, unless you do not find me sexual attractive in any manner. I will understand if you do not. As I said, our previous experience was not... ”
“And you do?” His voice was a little rougher. She could hear a hint of anger in it.
“Do?”
“Find me ‘sexual attractive’?”
Oh, even soft, the Snape sneer was out in full force. And she didn’t blame him. When she’d thought of this at the Conference, she’d even surprised herself.
“Women don’t see sexual attraction in the same manner as men do, you know, Severus. I know that for men it has a lot to do with the external. If a woman’s body turns him on. Her breasts, her arse, her legs. Does his penis respond to any of those?” Her hand found its way under the bunched up nightshirt to his thigh, where it remained.
She smiled. “A woman likes the physical as well as any man, but she needs more than that as well. Her brain needs to be turned on as much as her body. Maybe even more.”
“And do I turn on your brain, Miss Granger?”
She detected a certain curiosity under the scorn. She looked at him, at the harsh face, the bony structure, the dark, intelligent eyes, the way he held their children. For a moment, she felt incredible jealousy of her children. Would he ever hold her with the same care, the same protectiveness, the
same gentleness? Never with the same love, she knew that and accepted it. If she had been bound for some great love, surely she would have found it by now? But she wanted affection. Needed it. Would he be able to give her that at the very least?
“Yes, Professor Snape, you do.”
He went to scoff but she leaned over and, careful not to jar the children, she kissed him. After the momentary surprise, he didn’t pull away. Her hand tightened on his thigh and slowly stroked its way further up that path. It stopped before it encountered any other part of his body.
She ended the kiss, pulled back enough to see his eyes, looked down at the slight movement under his nightshirt, then met his challenge. “And I think this may be an area worth exploring before we make a decision.”
“Hermione...”
She shook her head. “It all depends on you, Severus. Your decision. Your yea or nay.” She sat back, placed both hands on her lap and waited.
on to the next part