Wrong Bettor 9/10
Mar. 9th, 2012 10:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teaoliTitle: Wrong Bettor| Chapter Eight: Playing His Part Well
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
teaoli
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genres: alternate universe, parallel universes, scifi, fantasy, mystery, action, romance, drama, humour
Characters: Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, Mr Granger, Mrs Granger, Harry Potter, Molly Weasley, Ron Weasley, Ginny Potter, Original Characters
Chapter Summary: A bettor who's had a change of heart, might expect his luck has also changed. This might be a good time for a leap of faith… and for betting “The Hard Way.”
Pairings multiple
Severus hadn’t felt like going to the large supermarket outside Cokeworth, but Hermione had declared the contents of his cupboards as not worth mention, and for more than a decade the grocer down the street had been closing on Sundays in protest of “that bad business in ’94.”
“If I hadn’t been detained against my will these past two days, I would have gone yesterday,” he pointed out whilst dejectedly (if affected dejection counted) pushing the trolley Hermione was rapidly filling with items she swore they would need for the next week.
“We could have gone yesterday,” she said, sounding far too cheerful, “if you hadn’t insisted we discuss everything as soon as I woke up. Or, you could have woken me earlier instead of reading fan fiction and whinging about what to name your non-existent offspring.”
“You needed the sleep as much as I did,” he snapped. (A display of anger was more palatable than the idea of showing she’d hurt his feelings.) “Probably more.”
“Well, I suppose I could go home…”
Severus decided he’d come to a good place for shutting up.
SS~HG
“But it still doesn’t make sense!” She paced his small, shabby kitchen, crossing her arms over her chest as she spun away from him.
Must look into building into the house next door, Snape thought, watching her spin on her toes after taking only seven steps.
“Anyway, I don’t see why – or how, for that matter – she would—”
He cut her off rather neatly with, “You’ve not had the pleasure of meeting her.”
“I have! I’ve known all of them for years longer—”
“Exchanging pleasantries and research in between fomenting rebellion is not the same thing,” he insisted.
“But I—”
“You’ve never been in her presence.” Nimue’s nipples! Will the witch die for giving up an argument?
“Fine! I’ve never met her, and you have. Happy?” Hermione stopped pacing to glare at him. “Even if you’re right, I see no reason for you to be the one to deal with this.”
She thought it was stupid and risky. And it was, but Severus didn’t really see an alternative. Well, not one that gave him some semblance of power over his own destiny, anyway.
“Hand me that boning knife,” he said, pointing his chin at a slightly curved strip of metal bolted to the wall. A half-array of knives were fanned out across its magnetised surface. “I am the only one fit to deal with this particular problem as I think best,” he added as she complied.
Knows her knives, however quarrelsome she gets, he thought approvingly. Useful in the kitchen or the lab. It’s no wonder so many of me married so many of her. He noted the high colour still staining her cheeks. And the stroppiness has its own merit.
She clenched and unclenched her fists several times, opening and closing her mouth nearly as often whilst she stared at him. Fighting a smirk, Severus set about filleting the fish that would be their dinner if she didn’t hex him in the meantime.
“Now you’re just being ridiculous! Or a control freak! Or both!” The condemnations were bellowed in her bossiest tones. “Probably both.” The last bit was uttered in a barely audible mutter.
He agreed that his need to be in charge probably – all right, definitely – had a lot to do with his decision, but did that really matter?
“When I need something done, and I know that I can do it the right way, I prefer to do it myself,” he told her without looking up from his task. “There’s nothing ridiculous about that. I’ve learnt the hard way depending on others can lead to disaster.”
By the time the silence had lasted long enough for him to de-bone both portions of salmon, curiosity forced him to risk a glance.
Hermione was scowling at him. She was almost as good at it as he was.
“You’re the one who likes to think there’s not much difference between Hermiones,” she said as if no time had passed at all. But she was repeating herself now, so he barely paid attention. “Why not apply the same to yourselves and ask a Severus? It makes more sense than you—”
“Because – against your better judgement, I might add – you decided to deny me the means of asking a Severus for a bacon sarnie,” he gritted out, his jaw muscles twitching rapidly, “let alone a delicate favour such as this!”
The witch was so infuriating at times he couldn’t even enjoy seeing her in a pique! He could have sworn her ghastly hair swam with magic when she was angry. Usually, it was a sight to behold. At the moment, he was too furious to notice.
But as moments passed during which she failed to respond, he felt his rage begin to dissipate. He’d already known Hermione was filled with conflicting feelings about rules. It stood to reason she’d be conflicted about him, as well.
“You don’t look the bacon sarnie sort,” she said finally.
Nonplussed at her nonsensical retort, Severus was silent for several seconds. Then, seeing that the fight had gone out of her, he let a smile spread slowly across his face and suggested, “You might give dinner a chance before passing judgement on my flair for breakfast.”
“What if she tries to keep you?” she asked after another silence.
“With a host of Hermiones wielding wands in protest? I doubt she’d succeed.” He shifted the salmon from the worktop to the oven. “And her Severus will certainly have something to say about it.” Especially if you keep insisting on sleeping in the guest room, if for no other reason. “And he won’t be wandless. How does that work, by the way? The wand sheath.”
“I’ll tell you after dinner. Trust me, it’s better that way.”
SS~HG
“There’s still time to change your mind, you know.”
Severus continued stomping up the walkway, wishing he was wearing his dragonhide boots rather than the expensive-looking Muggle pair she’d procured for him. True, they looked rather well with the dark grey trousers and merino wool jumper in forest green she’d made him purchase – “We aren’t fussy, really, but everyone is expected to be presentable for dinner with company” – but they left a lot to be desired in sheer stomping power.
“No, thank you,” he murmured after a moment. He was listening with barely half an ear, but managed to give off the appearance of actually considering what she had to say. He’d got quite a bit of practise in that over the past week. It wasn’t as if she ever amended her methods.
She’d moaned all through her abbreviated explanation of how she’d made his wand sheath, though she still steadfastly refused to tell him how she’d obtained the required hair and skin samples from him.
“You don’t want to know. Trust me.”
She moaned about having to inform Potter of their – his – plan.
“But we’ve kept it secret so long for a reason! Telling more people might lead to disaster.”
“Keeping silent has already led to disaster! And if my theory proves wrong, we’re likely dealing with a Dark wizard or witch,” he pointed out. “You’ll need to contact the Auror Office anyway. Why not have your dear, trusted friend who happens to be in line to head said office already on hand?”
She moaned when he revealed what he thought to be the best place for them to perform the spell.
“Don’t be ridiculous! They aren’t involved in this at all. Why, for heaven’s sake?”
“I am never ridiculous,” he said, feigning an affront he didn’t really feel. In fact, he was enjoying winding her up. Obviously, fear and nervousness was making her particularly short-sighted. “They are as involved as the rest of us; more importantly, it’s best that all actors are in analogous locations when we do this.”
Hermione folded her arms across her chest, but she’d petulantly agreed, adding, “But they’ll hate it.”
Of course, she moaned when it turned out she was wrong about that too.
“Why’d I even have to mention Violet and Abbus? Now they’ll be watching me, thinking I want to have your babies!”
“Don’t you?”
That comment – uttered on Thursday – had not only ensured he’d spent the rest of the week continuing to sleep alone, but also deprived him of receiving any more of the tentative cuddles and hesitant kisses she’d only begun to bestow on Tuesday. Two days later, he was still regretting his runaway tongue.
She moaned when he decided they needed help, after all, from “a reliable Severus and Hermione.”
She moaned at having to test the spell that would cause only him and their chosen Severus to travel, though she preened a bit when he said, “If that twit Fifty-five can manage it on a regular basis, surely you can do it twice now and twice more when it counts!”
But then she’d moaned some more when he returned from that short trip with a Notebook of his own tucked into his sheath.
Medea’s murderous mien, is there nothing that won't make her moan? Not that I'd mind if some of that moaning was from making—
“Hello! You must be Severus!” A small woman with familiar brown eyes and unfamiliar sleek brown hair was beaming a familiar smile at him. “Come inside and welcome! Harry’s already here.”
Severus attempted something approaching an amiable smile as she relieved him of his new dark grey (perfect match to the trousers, naturally) cashmere coat. He must have been successful because she stepped aside and waved him past her, saying, “He’s in the sitting room with Nikos. Down the hall to your right.”
Snape heard Hermione’s muffled return to her mother’s enthusiastic greeting as he strode into the house. He looked back in time to see the witch extricating herself from Dr Granger Two seventy-three mater’s embrace. Smirking to himself, he turned before she caught him looking and followed the sound of voices to a comfortable-looking lounge.
A comfortable-looking man sat in a comfortable-looking chair, talking easily with a comfortable-looking Harry bloody Potter. The man – presumably Dr Granger Two seventy-three pater, if the mass of bushy brown curls was anything to judge by – leapt to his feet as Severus entered the room. Potter took his own time standing.
“Mr Snape! Or shall I call you Severus? I suppose it should be Severus, shouldn’t it?” Granger was nearly as tall and thin as Severus himself, and his long-legged stride carried him to the threshold almost before Severus had fully crossed it.
“Welcome, Severus. Welcome,” Two seventy-three pater went on without waiting for an answer to his either of his questions. His right hand closed around Severus’s in a surprisingly strong grip, and he covered both hands with his left. His blue eyes twinkled in a manner reminiscent of a certain dead deranged wizard.
“Helen and I are pleased to finally meet you,” he continued, pumping Severus’s arm up and down as enthusiastically as his wife had hugged Hermione. He punctuated each word with firm slapping of their clasped hands with the one he had free. “We’re very excited about all this, Severus. Helen especially. You could probably tell she was very happy to hear about what’s happened. Or what could happen, hey?” Dr Two seventy-three pater gave a little laugh and a wink, but didn’t move to release Severus or to end the vigorous handshake. “That’s not to say that I’m not excited. Oh, I am! Haven’t been this excited since that owl came and we finally learnt what was what with our little girl! Oh! Just imagine, Severus. But you won’t even have to wonder, will you? You probably won’t bat an eye when you see your kids’ toys go flying— Er, that is to say, you wouldn’t need to wonder if you had kids doing magical things.”
Two seventy-three pater winked again and stopped the hand-pumping, but he didn’t let go or stop patting.
“But we—” Pat. Pat. “—really are happy—” Pat. Pat. Pat. “—to have you here—” Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. “—and so excited!” Pat. Pat. Pat. “Hermione hasn’t done much magic around us.” Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. “Not after Australia, as you might well know.” Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. “But now you’re here—” Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. “—Hermione told us this was all your idea—” Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. “—so we have you to thank, and we’re ever so grateful for the opportunity.” Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat.
Turms’s tongue, now I know who gave her that mouth! And why she likes touching so much.
But, not wanting to make a poor impression so soon into their acquaintance, Severus managed not to pull away or even roll his eyes. However, spotting Potter off to the side, smirking at his predicament, tested his mettle.
“You’re welcome, er, Dr Granger.”
“Dr Granger!” Dr Granger (finally) let go. “Oh no, young man!” Young man? “I’ll stand for none of that. You had better call me—”
“Daddy, let Severus go so he can sit down, and we can come in,” Hermione ordered from hall behind him. But her tone was full of barely restrained laughter and indulgent affection, and Severus felt his heart squeeze the tiniest bit at the sound of it.
Harry Potter doubled over, shaking with silent laughter.
SS~HG~HP~NG… and HG
“Are you sure, Sev?” Nick Granger leant forward in his chair, and a brief image of the man eagerly waving his hand flashed across Severus’s mind. “Helen and I are perfectly willing to help out.”
“I’m afraid there really isn’t anything for you to do,” Severus told the visibly disappointed dentist.
“But surely we can—”
“Nikos! He said there’s nothing for us to do. We are Muggles, in case you’ve forgotten.” Helen glared at her husband before flashing another beaming smile at Severus.
Severus smiled back and made a mental note to ask her for tips on containing loquacious tendencies.
“Right,” said Hermione. “I’m the only one who’ll be doing anything.” She exchanged glances with Harry bloody Potter, who nodded almost imperceptibly.
Since when has the boy learnt subtlety?
“Whenever you and… Sev are ready, Hermione.” Potter chuckled at his own idiocy.
SS~HG
He tried not to wince while the churning sensation faded from his middle, but the look of concern on Helen Granger’s face told him he’d failed.
“I guess you’re not ours, then,” she said with a soft smile. “Hermione is upstairs ‘doing research’, or – as I like to call it – ‘hiding’. Best get it over with before she comes down, I suppose.”
She wiped floury hands on a kitchen towel and indicated that Severus should do the same. For the first time since he’d arrived, he noticed he was nearly elbow deep in fragrant dough.
“She’ll just have to wait for her Mummy cakes,” Helen told him. “Follow me.”
They found Violet regaling Nick, as the man’s counterpart had insisted everyone but his wife and close relatives called him (in a long and rambling explanation finally curtailed by his daughter's “Severus doesn't care, Daddy!”), with plans for the weeks ahead.
Severus watched from the doorway, a small but joy-filled smile curving his lips. The unfamiliar facial contortion gave his cheeks cramp, but that wasn’t reason enough to stop him relishing the feeling inspiring it. He didn’t even flinch when Helen Granger squeezed his shoulder before slipping back to the kitchen.
The little girl stopped – mid-chatter – to peer at him closely. After a moment, a brief flicker of delight crossed her face, only to be replaced almost immediately by a cautious neutrality.
She’ll be a Slytherin, he thought, not for the first time.
“What are you doing here, Undaddy?” Violet asked. The faux-casual tone made Severus’s lips twitch.
Definitely Slytherin.
He didn’t notice Nick slipping from the room in his wife’s wake.
SS~VS
She might be destined for Slytherin, Severus decided half an hour later, but Violet Snape could be as obstinate as the witch who’d given her life.
“But it’s what he wanted, Undaddy!” she moaned for what must have been the fiftieth time. “He said it on his birthday! I heard him.”
He groaned. Audibly. He considered calling the Grangers for assistance, but reflected – not without warrant – that doing so would only bring his insistence on doing this himself back to haunt him.
“No doubt you were listening at your parents’ door again,” he muttered, and to his surprise (and secret relief) the little girl finally showed some sign of guilt. “Darling, I know you only wanted to make your daddy happy, but you must see this wasn’t the way to do it. To be honest, I don’t even see how it cou—”
Violet moved close to where he still knelt in spite of the ache creeping into his knees. Her dark eyes were wide and sad beneath the weight of her unfortunate eyebrows.
“He said he’d be happy if you were happy, Undaddy,” she whispered morosely. “He said that’s the only other thing he wanted, but Mummy and me didn’t get him anything like that.”
Tears welled in her huge eyes, and Severus did the only thing he could: spreading his arms, he swept the daughter who wasn’t his (but who could have been, had things been different) into a secure embrace.
“Oh, Violet,” he whispered against her tangle of dark curls.
SS~HG
“Wish magic?” Helen Granger stared at him, both brows raised, from across the dining table.
“Wish magic,” he confirmed. “I gather you experienced the results of it many times before you knew Hermione was a witch.”
“Oh, yes!” Nick Granger smiled and rubbed his hands together. “It wasn’t just the toys, you see; she got also got quieter and more and more secretive. Why, there were times when we didn’t hear a peep out of her for hours! You can’t imagine what she was like before, having met her after the magic, but Hermione used to talk and talk.”
Severus avoided looking at Potter, who he knew would be having just as difficult a time holding back laughter.
“He doesn’t want to hear about me as a kid, Daddy,” Hermione said. “And anyway, I want to know more about what happened with Violet.”
“Yes, Severus,” Helen chimed in. “Tell us more about that. What was the poor child wishing for?”
“Nothing for herself, as it happens,” he said, addressing the entire group and taking care to make eye contact with everyone. “She overheard a private conversation between her parents.”
“The only thing I might wish for now,” Severus Fifty-three told his wife, “is that every Severus who hasn’t yet experienced the sort of happiness I’ve found could one day at least know what it’s like to be me.”
“Oh, shut up!” Hermione Fifty-three said. “You won’t get lucky tonight by pretending to be soppy.”
“You wound me, witch! I meant every word. Besides, it is my birthday.”
“Well, since it’s your birthday…”
“So Violet decided it was up to her to get her daddy what he’d really wanted for his birthday. A few sneak peeks into her mum’s Notebook, and wish magic took care of the rest.”
Now, avoiding the gazes he’d just taken pains to meet, Severus tucked into the excellent dinner he and Nick had prepared. And if he didn’t show any outward sign of pleasure when Hermione’s left hand slipped under the table to rest on his right thigh, well, that was a good thing, wasn’t it?
A/N: A “hard way bet” is a wager that a shooter will throw a 4, 6, 8 or 10 by tossing pairs, that is throwing two 2s, two 3s... you get the picture.
The “bad business of ’94” was the failure of the Sunday Trading Act 1994, which heralded the failure of the Keep Sunday Special campaign.
Finally, my deepest thanks to linlawless for the quick and flawless beta read.
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Author:
teaoliFandom: Harry Potter
Genres: alternate universe, parallel universes, scifi, fantasy, mystery, action, romance, drama, humour
Characters: Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, Mr Granger, Mrs Granger, Harry Potter, Molly Weasley, Ron Weasley, Ginny Potter, Original Characters
Chapter Summary: A bettor who's had a change of heart, might expect his luck has also changed. This might be a good time for a leap of faith… and for betting “The Hard Way.”
Pairings multiple
Severus hadn’t felt like going to the large supermarket outside Cokeworth, but Hermione had declared the contents of his cupboards as not worth mention, and for more than a decade the grocer down the street had been closing on Sundays in protest of “that bad business in ’94.”
“If I hadn’t been detained against my will these past two days, I would have gone yesterday,” he pointed out whilst dejectedly (if affected dejection counted) pushing the trolley Hermione was rapidly filling with items she swore they would need for the next week.
“We could have gone yesterday,” she said, sounding far too cheerful, “if you hadn’t insisted we discuss everything as soon as I woke up. Or, you could have woken me earlier instead of reading fan fiction and whinging about what to name your non-existent offspring.”
“You needed the sleep as much as I did,” he snapped. (A display of anger was more palatable than the idea of showing she’d hurt his feelings.) “Probably more.”
“Well, I suppose I could go home…”
Severus decided he’d come to a good place for shutting up.
“But it still doesn’t make sense!” She paced his small, shabby kitchen, crossing her arms over her chest as she spun away from him.
Must look into building into the house next door, Snape thought, watching her spin on her toes after taking only seven steps.
“Anyway, I don’t see why – or how, for that matter – she would—”
He cut her off rather neatly with, “You’ve not had the pleasure of meeting her.”
“I have! I’ve known all of them for years longer—”
“Exchanging pleasantries and research in between fomenting rebellion is not the same thing,” he insisted.
“But I—”
“You’ve never been in her presence.” Nimue’s nipples! Will the witch die for giving up an argument?
“Fine! I’ve never met her, and you have. Happy?” Hermione stopped pacing to glare at him. “Even if you’re right, I see no reason for you to be the one to deal with this.”
She thought it was stupid and risky. And it was, but Severus didn’t really see an alternative. Well, not one that gave him some semblance of power over his own destiny, anyway.
“Hand me that boning knife,” he said, pointing his chin at a slightly curved strip of metal bolted to the wall. A half-array of knives were fanned out across its magnetised surface. “I am the only one fit to deal with this particular problem as I think best,” he added as she complied.
Knows her knives, however quarrelsome she gets, he thought approvingly. Useful in the kitchen or the lab. It’s no wonder so many of me married so many of her. He noted the high colour still staining her cheeks. And the stroppiness has its own merit.
She clenched and unclenched her fists several times, opening and closing her mouth nearly as often whilst she stared at him. Fighting a smirk, Severus set about filleting the fish that would be their dinner if she didn’t hex him in the meantime.
“Now you’re just being ridiculous! Or a control freak! Or both!” The condemnations were bellowed in her bossiest tones. “Probably both.” The last bit was uttered in a barely audible mutter.
He agreed that his need to be in charge probably – all right, definitely – had a lot to do with his decision, but did that really matter?
“When I need something done, and I know that I can do it the right way, I prefer to do it myself,” he told her without looking up from his task. “There’s nothing ridiculous about that. I’ve learnt the hard way depending on others can lead to disaster.”
By the time the silence had lasted long enough for him to de-bone both portions of salmon, curiosity forced him to risk a glance.
Hermione was scowling at him. She was almost as good at it as he was.
“You’re the one who likes to think there’s not much difference between Hermiones,” she said as if no time had passed at all. But she was repeating herself now, so he barely paid attention. “Why not apply the same to yourselves and ask a Severus? It makes more sense than you—”
“Because – against your better judgement, I might add – you decided to deny me the means of asking a Severus for a bacon sarnie,” he gritted out, his jaw muscles twitching rapidly, “let alone a delicate favour such as this!”
The witch was so infuriating at times he couldn’t even enjoy seeing her in a pique! He could have sworn her ghastly hair swam with magic when she was angry. Usually, it was a sight to behold. At the moment, he was too furious to notice.
But as moments passed during which she failed to respond, he felt his rage begin to dissipate. He’d already known Hermione was filled with conflicting feelings about rules. It stood to reason she’d be conflicted about him, as well.
“You don’t look the bacon sarnie sort,” she said finally.
Nonplussed at her nonsensical retort, Severus was silent for several seconds. Then, seeing that the fight had gone out of her, he let a smile spread slowly across his face and suggested, “You might give dinner a chance before passing judgement on my flair for breakfast.”
“What if she tries to keep you?” she asked after another silence.
“With a host of Hermiones wielding wands in protest? I doubt she’d succeed.” He shifted the salmon from the worktop to the oven. “And her Severus will certainly have something to say about it.” Especially if you keep insisting on sleeping in the guest room, if for no other reason. “And he won’t be wandless. How does that work, by the way? The wand sheath.”
“I’ll tell you after dinner. Trust me, it’s better that way.”
“There’s still time to change your mind, you know.”
Severus continued stomping up the walkway, wishing he was wearing his dragonhide boots rather than the expensive-looking Muggle pair she’d procured for him. True, they looked rather well with the dark grey trousers and merino wool jumper in forest green she’d made him purchase – “We aren’t fussy, really, but everyone is expected to be presentable for dinner with company” – but they left a lot to be desired in sheer stomping power.
“No, thank you,” he murmured after a moment. He was listening with barely half an ear, but managed to give off the appearance of actually considering what she had to say. He’d got quite a bit of practise in that over the past week. It wasn’t as if she ever amended her methods.
She’d moaned all through her abbreviated explanation of how she’d made his wand sheath, though she still steadfastly refused to tell him how she’d obtained the required hair and skin samples from him.
“You don’t want to know. Trust me.”
She moaned about having to inform Potter of their – his – plan.
“But we’ve kept it secret so long for a reason! Telling more people might lead to disaster.”
“Keeping silent has already led to disaster! And if my theory proves wrong, we’re likely dealing with a Dark wizard or witch,” he pointed out. “You’ll need to contact the Auror Office anyway. Why not have your dear, trusted friend who happens to be in line to head said office already on hand?”
She moaned when he revealed what he thought to be the best place for them to perform the spell.
“Don’t be ridiculous! They aren’t involved in this at all. Why, for heaven’s sake?”
“I am never ridiculous,” he said, feigning an affront he didn’t really feel. In fact, he was enjoying winding her up. Obviously, fear and nervousness was making her particularly short-sighted. “They are as involved as the rest of us; more importantly, it’s best that all actors are in analogous locations when we do this.”
Hermione folded her arms across her chest, but she’d petulantly agreed, adding, “But they’ll hate it.”
Of course, she moaned when it turned out she was wrong about that too.
“Why’d I even have to mention Violet and Abbus? Now they’ll be watching me, thinking I want to have your babies!”
“Don’t you?”
That comment – uttered on Thursday – had not only ensured he’d spent the rest of the week continuing to sleep alone, but also deprived him of receiving any more of the tentative cuddles and hesitant kisses she’d only begun to bestow on Tuesday. Two days later, he was still regretting his runaway tongue.
She moaned when he decided they needed help, after all, from “a reliable Severus and Hermione.”
She moaned at having to test the spell that would cause only him and their chosen Severus to travel, though she preened a bit when he said, “If that twit Fifty-five can manage it on a regular basis, surely you can do it twice now and twice more when it counts!”
But then she’d moaned some more when he returned from that short trip with a Notebook of his own tucked into his sheath.
Medea’s murderous mien, is there nothing that won't make her moan? Not that I'd mind if some of that moaning was from making—
“Hello! You must be Severus!” A small woman with familiar brown eyes and unfamiliar sleek brown hair was beaming a familiar smile at him. “Come inside and welcome! Harry’s already here.”
Severus attempted something approaching an amiable smile as she relieved him of his new dark grey (perfect match to the trousers, naturally) cashmere coat. He must have been successful because she stepped aside and waved him past her, saying, “He’s in the sitting room with Nikos. Down the hall to your right.”
Snape heard Hermione’s muffled return to her mother’s enthusiastic greeting as he strode into the house. He looked back in time to see the witch extricating herself from Dr Granger Two seventy-three mater’s embrace. Smirking to himself, he turned before she caught him looking and followed the sound of voices to a comfortable-looking lounge.
A comfortable-looking man sat in a comfortable-looking chair, talking easily with a comfortable-looking Harry bloody Potter. The man – presumably Dr Granger Two seventy-three pater, if the mass of bushy brown curls was anything to judge by – leapt to his feet as Severus entered the room. Potter took his own time standing.
“Mr Snape! Or shall I call you Severus? I suppose it should be Severus, shouldn’t it?” Granger was nearly as tall and thin as Severus himself, and his long-legged stride carried him to the threshold almost before Severus had fully crossed it.
“Welcome, Severus. Welcome,” Two seventy-three pater went on without waiting for an answer to his either of his questions. His right hand closed around Severus’s in a surprisingly strong grip, and he covered both hands with his left. His blue eyes twinkled in a manner reminiscent of a certain dead deranged wizard.
“Helen and I are pleased to finally meet you,” he continued, pumping Severus’s arm up and down as enthusiastically as his wife had hugged Hermione. He punctuated each word with firm slapping of their clasped hands with the one he had free. “We’re very excited about all this, Severus. Helen especially. You could probably tell she was very happy to hear about what’s happened. Or what could happen, hey?” Dr Two seventy-three pater gave a little laugh and a wink, but didn’t move to release Severus or to end the vigorous handshake. “That’s not to say that I’m not excited. Oh, I am! Haven’t been this excited since that owl came and we finally learnt what was what with our little girl! Oh! Just imagine, Severus. But you won’t even have to wonder, will you? You probably won’t bat an eye when you see your kids’ toys go flying— Er, that is to say, you wouldn’t need to wonder if you had kids doing magical things.”
Two seventy-three pater winked again and stopped the hand-pumping, but he didn’t let go or stop patting.
“But we—” Pat. Pat. “—really are happy—” Pat. Pat. Pat. “—to have you here—” Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. “—and so excited!” Pat. Pat. Pat. “Hermione hasn’t done much magic around us.” Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. “Not after Australia, as you might well know.” Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. “But now you’re here—” Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. “—Hermione told us this was all your idea—” Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. “—so we have you to thank, and we’re ever so grateful for the opportunity.” Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat.
Turms’s tongue, now I know who gave her that mouth! And why she likes touching so much.
But, not wanting to make a poor impression so soon into their acquaintance, Severus managed not to pull away or even roll his eyes. However, spotting Potter off to the side, smirking at his predicament, tested his mettle.
“You’re welcome, er, Dr Granger.”
“Dr Granger!” Dr Granger (finally) let go. “Oh no, young man!” Young man? “I’ll stand for none of that. You had better call me—”
“Daddy, let Severus go so he can sit down, and we can come in,” Hermione ordered from hall behind him. But her tone was full of barely restrained laughter and indulgent affection, and Severus felt his heart squeeze the tiniest bit at the sound of it.
Harry Potter doubled over, shaking with silent laughter.
“Are you sure, Sev?” Nick Granger leant forward in his chair, and a brief image of the man eagerly waving his hand flashed across Severus’s mind. “Helen and I are perfectly willing to help out.”
“I’m afraid there really isn’t anything for you to do,” Severus told the visibly disappointed dentist.
“But surely we can—”
“Nikos! He said there’s nothing for us to do. We are Muggles, in case you’ve forgotten.” Helen glared at her husband before flashing another beaming smile at Severus.
Severus smiled back and made a mental note to ask her for tips on containing loquacious tendencies.
“Right,” said Hermione. “I’m the only one who’ll be doing anything.” She exchanged glances with Harry bloody Potter, who nodded almost imperceptibly.
Since when has the boy learnt subtlety?
“Whenever you and… Sev are ready, Hermione.” Potter chuckled at his own idiocy.
He tried not to wince while the churning sensation faded from his middle, but the look of concern on Helen Granger’s face told him he’d failed.
“I guess you’re not ours, then,” she said with a soft smile. “Hermione is upstairs ‘doing research’, or – as I like to call it – ‘hiding’. Best get it over with before she comes down, I suppose.”
She wiped floury hands on a kitchen towel and indicated that Severus should do the same. For the first time since he’d arrived, he noticed he was nearly elbow deep in fragrant dough.
“She’ll just have to wait for her Mummy cakes,” Helen told him. “Follow me.”
They found Violet regaling Nick, as the man’s counterpart had insisted everyone but his wife and close relatives called him (in a long and rambling explanation finally curtailed by his daughter's “Severus doesn't care, Daddy!”), with plans for the weeks ahead.
Severus watched from the doorway, a small but joy-filled smile curving his lips. The unfamiliar facial contortion gave his cheeks cramp, but that wasn’t reason enough to stop him relishing the feeling inspiring it. He didn’t even flinch when Helen Granger squeezed his shoulder before slipping back to the kitchen.
The little girl stopped – mid-chatter – to peer at him closely. After a moment, a brief flicker of delight crossed her face, only to be replaced almost immediately by a cautious neutrality.
She’ll be a Slytherin, he thought, not for the first time.
“What are you doing here, Undaddy?” Violet asked. The faux-casual tone made Severus’s lips twitch.
Definitely Slytherin.
He didn’t notice Nick slipping from the room in his wife’s wake.
She might be destined for Slytherin, Severus decided half an hour later, but Violet Snape could be as obstinate as the witch who’d given her life.
“But it’s what he wanted, Undaddy!” she moaned for what must have been the fiftieth time. “He said it on his birthday! I heard him.”
He groaned. Audibly. He considered calling the Grangers for assistance, but reflected – not without warrant – that doing so would only bring his insistence on doing this himself back to haunt him.
“No doubt you were listening at your parents’ door again,” he muttered, and to his surprise (and secret relief) the little girl finally showed some sign of guilt. “Darling, I know you only wanted to make your daddy happy, but you must see this wasn’t the way to do it. To be honest, I don’t even see how it cou—”
Violet moved close to where he still knelt in spite of the ache creeping into his knees. Her dark eyes were wide and sad beneath the weight of her unfortunate eyebrows.
“He said he’d be happy if you were happy, Undaddy,” she whispered morosely. “He said that’s the only other thing he wanted, but Mummy and me didn’t get him anything like that.”
Tears welled in her huge eyes, and Severus did the only thing he could: spreading his arms, he swept the daughter who wasn’t his (but who could have been, had things been different) into a secure embrace.
“Oh, Violet,” he whispered against her tangle of dark curls.
“Wish magic?” Helen Granger stared at him, both brows raised, from across the dining table.
“Wish magic,” he confirmed. “I gather you experienced the results of it many times before you knew Hermione was a witch.”
“Oh, yes!” Nick Granger smiled and rubbed his hands together. “It wasn’t just the toys, you see; she got also got quieter and more and more secretive. Why, there were times when we didn’t hear a peep out of her for hours! You can’t imagine what she was like before, having met her after the magic, but Hermione used to talk and talk.”
Severus avoided looking at Potter, who he knew would be having just as difficult a time holding back laughter.
“He doesn’t want to hear about me as a kid, Daddy,” Hermione said. “And anyway, I want to know more about what happened with Violet.”
“Yes, Severus,” Helen chimed in. “Tell us more about that. What was the poor child wishing for?”
“Nothing for herself, as it happens,” he said, addressing the entire group and taking care to make eye contact with everyone. “She overheard a private conversation between her parents.”
“The only thing I might wish for now,” Severus Fifty-three told his wife, “is that every Severus who hasn’t yet experienced the sort of happiness I’ve found could one day at least know what it’s like to be me.”
“Oh, shut up!” Hermione Fifty-three said. “You won’t get lucky tonight by pretending to be soppy.”
“You wound me, witch! I meant every word. Besides, it is my birthday.”
“Well, since it’s your birthday…”
“So Violet decided it was up to her to get her daddy what he’d really wanted for his birthday. A few sneak peeks into her mum’s Notebook, and wish magic took care of the rest.”
Now, avoiding the gazes he’d just taken pains to meet, Severus tucked into the excellent dinner he and Nick had prepared. And if he didn’t show any outward sign of pleasure when Hermione’s left hand slipped under the table to rest on his right thigh, well, that was a good thing, wasn’t it?
A/N: A “hard way bet” is a wager that a shooter will throw a 4, 6, 8 or 10 by tossing pairs, that is throwing two 2s, two 3s... you get the picture.
The “bad business of ’94” was the failure of the Sunday Trading Act 1994, which heralded the failure of the Keep Sunday Special campaign.
Finally, my deepest thanks to linlawless for the quick and flawless beta read.
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
