A Visit, of sorts.

A/N: Thanks goes to blue artemis for her suggestions and corrections. As usual, any errors are solely mine.

Disclaimer: I don’t own it in any form or way, but oh! How I love to mess with it!

CHAPTER 3: A visit, of sorts.

“NO!” he roared to the empty space where she had been sitting.

The sound reverberated in the windows and through the solitary halls of the house.

The Burrow was as comforting and peaceful as her parents’ home. The only reason she didn’t go to her mother and father was to avoid the havoc her mother would cause and to prevent heart failure in her dear father. They loved her fiercely, and though Severus had been a respectful son in-law, they would kill him – literally – if they got word of what he had done to her. Molly was more than livid when she managed to make Hermione tell her what had happened and who had been responsible for Hermione’s state. It was not a surprise, then, that all the Weasleys with Harry had convened at once to comfort her and start at the same time a war council; after all, they were her surrogate family in the Wizarding world. She could not expect less than that from them; though sincerely, she didn’t want them to cause bodily harm to Severus. Despite all the pain he had caused her, violence was not the answer. Hermione knew pretty well what her husband was capable of. She simply didn’t want him and her loving substitute family to end up at St. Mungo’s. They could really end up badly injured, if not dead.

It was not only the fact that he had cheated on her that caused her such a pain. It was the fact that he had raised a child with someone else.

She had tried incessantly to get pregnant for the last eight years, inventing spells and creating potions to enhance her probabilities without success. That child was the proof she was a failure: defective, crippled, a woman with a useless womb incapable of the most primal function, depriving her of giving and receiving special love. A love she craved and couldn’t have.

All her dear friends had a brood of their own. Their meetings spiraled around their children and how lovely and talented they were, how proud they were of their children’s first signs of magic, their first teeth, their first fights, their first toy brooms and wands.

It was not their fault, of course, but she couldn’t get past all that was thrown so casually in front of her face: their plans for the future regarding their broods’ education, living, and even vacation plans years ahead. Soon she had nothing to say but became the reference book for anything and everything regarding children. She rapidly grew to be every child’s ‘Aunty ‘Mione,’ the fairy godmother that produced a funny Patronus they could all chase and whose cookies were the best. And time after time she returned barehanded to her house, emptier than before. She started to go to fewer of their outings and celebrations, blaming their ex-professor for her ostracism. He would, however, comfort her, wrapping his strong arms around her, kissing her thoroughly and telling her that her friends with children were undoubtedly envious he could shag his wife six ways to Sunday without interruption. It made her feel cherished, special, complete, but it never lasted long enough. She would slip from the bed in the middle of the night and go stand naked before the mirror in their bathroom to stare hard and long at her decidedly flat abdomen until Severus came in and fetched her at her choked sobs, rocking her gently in his arms until she fell into a restless slumber.

*

Ginevra Potter let out an outraged huff, shaking Hermione out of her reverie and alerting her siblings of an unwanted visitor.

Like the tide, all rushed forward to have their go with the Greasy Git .

“He’s mine,” Ginny hollered, reaching for the wand in her robe’s sleeve.

Bill growled, walking faster toward the kitchen door, ready to hex.

“Me first!” Ron spat while Lavender hung from his arm in a vain attempt to stop him.

“How dare he!” seethed Harry, going from red to white and back to red and about to snap his wand in ire.

George couldn’t trust his eyes. Snape was carrying a little girl in his arms propped up on his broad shoulder. Was she asleep or had Snape snatched and Stunned her to use her like a shield? Nobody stopped to ponder this for long; all of them were after his blood.

“Arthur, please stop them,” Hermione begged desperately. The magic was crackling the air and soon the hexes would be flying.

The patriarch stood at the door, raising his voice above the rumbling and cursing of his progeny.

“You will not hex him,” he warned a second time to the angry mob. “Let him speak. Let him explain himself first,” he commanded. “Then, if his explanation is not acceptable, you will duel him honorably.” He raised his hands to stop the impending replies. “One at the time. You will not attack him while he has the child with him, not on these grounds. Am I clear?”

“Yes, father,” all of them replied as one.

“He may be the biggest bastard alive, but even bastards deserve a chance to speak.” Arthur eyes flashed dangerously.

Hermione had seen him angry but never like this before, talking with such command.

Molly stepped outside into the yard to receive the sleeping child into her arms. Arthur took the small parcel from Severus’ hands and grabbed his arm. “If you want to live to tell the tale, stay close to me,” whispered the older man.

Severus thanked him sincerely.

“Don’t thank me,” Arthur snapped. “Thank Hermione for saving your hide… for now.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Molly set out mugs on the table for a bit of tea. No one was giving them a glance, much less drinking the steamy liquid, preferring instead to shoot daggers at the Bat-That-Survived-Nagini-Only-To-Be-Killed-Today.

Hermione remained silent, seated in a chair and looking at her hands laced in her lap, surrounded by all the Weasley males, Arthur performing the role of mediator. Severus was not allowed to speak with his wife alone, and his options were narrowed to two: talk to her in front of all of them, or leave on the spot.

“Hermione, love…” All men on the room frowned at the endearment, except for Arthur, who only shifted lightly in his seat.

“Hermione…,” Severus started again.

“Out with it, Snape,” spat Harry. “We don’t have all day to listen to you.” The others nodded approvingly.

Severus clenched and relaxed his jaw a few times. They weren’t best friends and never would be, but it was neither the time nor the place to give Potter a piece of his mind.

“I came from a funeral. My sister’s funeral,” he replied.

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A.N.2: I know! Don't set me on fire... The explanation and the end of this little story coming next. I was distracted and this crazy plot bunny bit me, I swear!

Read and review! It always helps!

SF