The First Time Ever I…

Disclaimer in the first chapter.

I want to do this, Severus Snape told himself.

He did! Had dreamed of it for far longer than he cared to admit. Yes, when he and Hermione had first married, they had only promised each other friendship. Before the first month was out, he'd known that particular pledge was bollocks – he’d wanted far more than friendship – but hadn’t exactly felt in position to tell her. It took her inquisitive nature – once a source of annoyance – to get them over that first hurdle.

But taking this next step was all on him. Faced with the knowledge it was within reach – The truth was… well, the truth was that he was apprehensive.

And that was something she could never, ever know.

“Shall you take the lead, then?” she asked. “You’re the expert, after all. I’ve only read books about it, but you’ve been practising for ages.”

He had to bite back a sneer at the teasing note in her voice.

Only his nearly two decades of carefully cultivated control – acquired at great cost, and only recently recaptured – kept his hands from shaking as he went about his preparations. He stalled for time, gathering phials of potions and pots of lotions and taking them to the washroom whilst Hermione giggled.

The witch knew him too well.

Six months before, fuelled by a boundless ambition only the most motivated of sometime Slytherins might muster and commanding the canniest cunning he could call upon, the erstwhile spy had enacted a succession of subtle subterfuges designed to deliver his deepest desire.

A month into his planning, he’d known he needed help. Thirty days, it seemed, was about average for him figuring out the important bits in his life.

SS~HG

If any wizard could counsel him, Severus decided, surely Arthur Weasley was that wizard. Six (formerly seven) pieces of evidence suggested the man likely had some skill in the area. Severus wasn’t so naïve as to believe that such competence was entirely necessary, but he doubted Molly Weasley would tolerate the lack.

He also doubted Arthur was any match for a displeased Molly. In fact, he knew the patriarch of the wizarding world’s own Redheaded League was not. He just hadn’t been certain if the wizard was willing to offer his assistance.

Almost as if he were waiting to be asked, Arthur came through at once. Slipping Severus a battered card with “Domesticis Officiis Locum-tenens Liber” written in fancifully swirling script above “Madame Manikin” and an address just off Diagon Alley, he explained, “I gave these to all my boys before they got married— even Harry. The witches in our family like their wizards to know what they’re about. Hermione’s no different, I expect. Else she wouldn't have made you wait nearly fourteen years!”

Although Severus had little patience for being sent up, as Weasley was aiding and abetting his objective, he allowed the man his laugh.

“This one was to be Charlie’s,” the older wizard went on a good deal more soberly, “but I think by now we all know that won’t be happening.”

The mangled Latin left Severus sceptical, but Arthur reassured him.

“I would have been lost without Madame M. She’s very helpful,” he promised. “And totally discreet.”

Following Weasley’s recommendation, Severus arrived just after dark, and though he was disconcerted to find himself outside a children’s toy shop, he went in and presented the card to the wizened witch waiting by the till.

Madame Manikin smiled at the card and at him, saying, “Most wizards want one that resembles their wives,” and led him to a windowless room which was filled, floor to ceiling, with dolls of every shape and size imaginable to suit the purpose. (Not that Severus had ever quite imagined making such a purchase.) “Witches usually choose one that looks like their husbands. It’s all very romantic.”

She put together a selection she thought would meet his needs, describing each one’s special features.

He bought one – “Excellent choice. She’s quite lively. And noisy!” – with a mass of dark curling hair he thought looked nothing at all like Hermione.

SS~HG

Still stalling, Severus laid out a fluffy towel for after. Because that didn’t use up nearly enough time, he unstoppered one of the gentle cleansing potions he’d so carefully brewed himself and soaked an even softer cloth in it and warm water.

Then there really wasn’t anything left to do but begin.

“You can do it,” he said aloud, but didn’t stick around to see if the mirror disagreed.

Just as his wife said, he had spent months preparing for this. And everything had gone well enough until the day she arrived home early and caught him at it.

SS~HG

Hermione had wandered into the bedroom and loudly wondered “…what on Earth are you doing with that doll?”

“She’s not a doll,” he primly protested. “She is a D.O.L.L.”

Severus pulled the doll’s (Yes, it was, in fact, a doll, and he knew it; only he wasn’t going to admit that to his wife!) packaging from the cupboard where it had spent the last three months hiding.

Taking the proffered box, Hermione frowned as she studied the label.

“The book takes the place of home offices?” she guessed, looking up at him and frowning even more. “Location free from domestic duties?”

“Madame Manikin is a toymaker, not a Latin scholar,” he pointed out. “I should think her true objective was nevertheless obvious. Use that much vaunted brain of yours!”

He wanted to apologise as soon as the harsh words left his mouth, but she caught on, saying, “Oh! I can see how she came up with that, I suppose,” although her inflection said she suspected Madame Manikin was an imbecile. “I expect if she needed a way to say ‘doll’ without really saying it, that was the best she could do.”

Then she shyly confessed to having procured and read several books on the subject, herself, and Severus forgot all about saying he was sorry.

SS~HG

Only that had been three months ago and now he was expected to actually perform. For an audience.

Still anxious, but resolute, Severus left the washroom. Fumbling just a bit over releasing buttons smaller than his fingers were truly accustomed to, he slowly removed clothing which was not his own. By the time he was finished, Hermione’s laughter had long since been exchanged for shallow breathing.

“Go on, then,” she whispered.

He spread one large hand beneath his beloved burden’s head and neck; the other he slipped under her naked bum. Gently lifting, he cradled her against his chest. Using slow, careful steps, he carried her through the bedroom to the en suite as if he were walking to the gallows.

But soon enough, Severus was in his element. He found his nerves disappeared as he got down to business, no matter that she squirmed and squealed quite a bit more than the D.O.L.L. had done.

“Your mother,” he murmured conspiratorially, but not so quietly that the woman in question would not overhear, “is a know-it-all. She'll wish to give you your second bath on her own. Let us hope she pays careful attention.”

So absorbed was he in the scent of his daughter’s freshly washed little head, he failed to notice his wife’s soft smile.

A/N: According to Madame Manikin's mangled Latin, liber = child, locum-tenens = takes the place of (as in a substitute), officiis = duty or obligation, and domesticis = domestic. Strictly speaking, those are acceptable translations for each word or phrase, but...