Chapter 9

Hermione stifled a ladylike burp and surveyed the wreckage strewn across the dining table. Severus leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh.

"Told you you'd like the takeaway," Harry said with satisfaction. Ginny waved her wand, banishing the empty foil containers and sending the plates to the kitchen.

"Haven't you eaten Chinese takeaway before?" Hermione asked, and Severus shook his head.

"My mother would get us fish and chips as a special treat," he said, "and the Hogwarts house-elves stick to a very traditional British menu, so no, I have not. A lamentable oversight."

"Who wants dessert?" Ginny asked. Severus pressed his fingertips cautiously to the front of his robes.

"I believe I've just gone straight to nine months."

Ginny laughed and levitated a bowl to the table.

"We'll try Indian next time, if you like spicy food."

Dessert was fruit salad, and Severus nibbled on a few cherries and grapes as Kreacher popped in to serve the coffee, grumbling about Muggle take-away being an affront to the dignity of house-elves everywhere. Hermione cleared her throat.

"Yes, I was wondering who would begin," Severus muttered. He smirked as she assumed an injured expression.

"We can't stay here until the court case," Hermione stated in the tone that meant she was not prepared to argue with anyone. It had always been quite effective on Ron and Harry at school, but she had a feeling that Ginny was harder to steamroll. Severus was impervious to it, of course.

"Where are you going, then, the Hog's Head?" Ginny demanded. "You might be prepared to live in that flea-infested hovel, but Professor Snape needs somewhere comfortable."

"It wouldn't be fair to stay here, Gin, not for up to four months. You've both got jobs; you've got your children to look after..."

"You can't go back to Malfoy; neither the Wizengamot nor Frimp will let you get away with that," Harry insisted. "They might be prepared to allow Snape some leeway, but Lucius only got off by the skin of his teeth, and they'll never trust him. Draco and Astoria have the baby to look after, so it would be no different from staying here..."

Severus simply stretched out his legs under the table, watching them and stroking his front with that infuriating smirk still in place. He had the air of a spectator at a Quidditch match. When they all fell silent – Hermione insistent that they could not impose themselves upon Harry and Ginny for more than a few days, and the Potters equally adamant that they should stay – he sighed theatrically.

"I appear to have no say in the matter of where I spend the remainder of my increasingly frustrating and uncomfortable pregnancy."

They had both changed, Hermione thought, as Harry turned to apologise. The old Severus would have ranted and ended up going head to head with Harry, rather than manipulating him into feeling guilty. The old Harry would have disregarded Severus' feelings as irrelevant. Hermione herself felt a pang of remorse.

"Where do you want to go, Severus? I'll have to come with you, but as you say, you're the one whose comfort matters most."

"Has it not occurred to you that I have a house of my own?"

They stared at him in surprise.

"I thought you'd lost everything when you were assumed dead," Harry said.

"The Malfoys never assumed I was dead," Severus pointed out rather acerbically. "And neither did the goblins at Gringotts. Draco ensured that the house remained Unplottable; I had Gringotts transfer it into his name so that none of my distant relations could get their hands on it and sent in the Malfoy elves to clear out any perishables and put protections on the place."

"Where is it?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Spinner's End, in Brudderswick, the town in Yorkshire where your mother and aunt were raised, Potter. Your mother referred to it as 'Shudderswick' when we were teenagers."

Harry stared at Severus, his green eyes wide.

"Can you – I mean, would you tell me a bit about her? My mum? Some time?"

"Has your aunt not done so?"

"You knew Petunia," Harry said with a note of accusation. "D'you really think she'd tell me anything about magic? You're the only one left who knew Mum."

"On the contrary, Potter. Any of the older staff at Hogwarts can tell you about her at great length."

"You know what I mean. You knew her as a kid, as a friend."

Severus continued to stroke his round paunch as he considered Harry's request.

"No doubt you will wish to give your friend a regular respite from my presence. After all, spending my time telling you about your mother might be a lesser hardship than attempting to train you to brew potions or teach you Legillimency."

Harry smirked at the familiar barb. "I'll take that as a yes, Professor." His expression softened. "Thank you," he added gratefully.

Severus nodded and got to his feet. The swift grace that had always made Hermione think of stalking cats was giving way to a measured, stately pace as his weight increased.

"I will bid you all a good night. My digestive system insists that I take to my bed, if you will excuse me."

"We're not letting them send him to Azkaban," Harry said fiercely once they had listened to Severus' steady tread ascend the staircase.

"There was a time when you'd have executed him yourself, Harry."

"Yeah, well, people grow up, don't they? It took him a long time, mind you," he added with a wicked glint in his eye, "and I think he could still be a right bastard."

"He isn't under all that stress any more, is he? The other teachers at Hogwarts seem to bear no grudge, so I bet he was polite to them," Ginny said, "and he must have been nice to the Slytherins to make them so loyal to him. Amazing what regular sex can do for someone's temper, too."

She grinned at Hermione, who made a rude gesture and said, "Thanks, pal."

"You're welcome."

oooOOOooo

Hermione said nothing, not wishing to reveal to Severus how grim she thought Spinner's End really was. The house had an air of poverty and neglect. Old newspapers and rubbish had collected against the front door, which opened directly from the narrow street. The alleyway to one side smelt distinctly of urine and dustbins, and the only person in sight was a man in a flat cap, who tossed his cigarette end into the gutter and shuffled past with his chin buried in his collar.

Severus unlocked the front door and Hermione followed him inside. There was no hallway; she found herself stepping straight into a small sitting room, where the walls were completely lined with books.

"Oh," she said, looking around. Her fingers itched to investigate the nearest volume. "Did the Aurors get in here?" She indicated one of the prominent gaps.

"Did you not notice my wards? I had Draco fetch the most relevant books when I started my potions supply business; they are at the Dower House."

He stared around at the worn carpet and dilapidated furniture. "I spent little time here after I began teaching at Hogwarts."

"It does look as if it could do with a good clean," Hermione ventured, and Severus gave a soft snort.

"Complete renovation, more like. Since I can trust you to treat the books with the respect they deserve, you are welcome to do as you wish."

"We can't get more than ten yards apart," Hermione reminded him.

"I doubt if we could get more than ten yards apart here, unless one of us went to the front end of the attic and the other out into the back yard. I should be grateful to be permitted that modicum of privacy, I suppose." He lowered himself into the armchair, and a faint puff of dust erupted around him. "Welcome to the Snape family estate."

He leaned his head back and shut his eyes. After a few seconds, he added waspishly, "I am perfectly well, Miss Granger. I am merely tired, irritated and emotionally drained. Kindly leave me to brood in peace."

Hermione patted his shoulder as she walked past him to explore the house.

oooOOOooo

Hermione conjured parchment and quill and began making a shopping list. At least this made her feel she was achieving something. A Victorian house-wife would have felt perfectly at home in Severus' kitchen. There was a colony of doxies under the bed in the smaller of the two bedrooms, and the spiders appeared to be developing their own civilisation. The flaking paintwork and cracked linoleum, battered chairs and table and congealed candle wax convinced her that this had never been a welcoming, comfortable home, even when Severus was a child. Poverty was as ingrained as the dirt.

Hermione went into the living room to find Severus gazing blankly at the empty fireplace. He was lying back in the old armchair and had slipped both hands inside his robe, holding the proud arch of his belly. Hermione's heart gave an urgent jolt inside her chest.

"Severus?"

He looked up at her.

"Come here, Hermione."

When she obeyed, he reached out for her hand and drew it into the warm gap where he had unbuttoned his robe, pressing it hard against himself. Hermione's heart sped up even more. Something twitched under her palm, like a grasshopper jumping inside him.

"Oh, wow! That's – that's magical! It's him, isn't it?" He nodded. "Has he just started moving today?"

"No, he has been wriggling away for a couple of weeks but I've only recently been able to feel him from the outside."

Hermione sat down on his lap so she could lean against him, massaging lightly to encourage the tiny thing to keep moving against the gentle pressure. After a moment, he shifted to a more comfortable position and slipped an arm around her, slightly awkward, as if he had never settled a girl on his knee in his life and was unsure of the correct protocol. Hermione found this tentative gesture incredibly endearing. Ron had always assumed she desired what he did, without asking if she really wanted to be pulled into a rough bear hug, snogged up against a wall or fondled with hearty enthusiasm.

"We should think of a name for him," Hermione said. "We can't keep calling him just 'him', or 'the bump'."

"How twee," Severus sneered. "What about 'squirt'?"

"Master Squirt Snape? No, I don't think so."

She felt Severus go tense.

"I assumed you would wish to retain your own surname for your child."

"You're his father; it's traditional to call children by their fathers' names in the Wizarding world, isn't it?"

"And saddle him with an evil reputation that he has done nothing to deserve?"

"Severus!" She raised her hand and smacked him, although not hard enough to hurt. "Stop it. You're every bit as much a hero as I am. Any child would be proud to carry your name – especially if he gets sorted into Slytherin."

"Most likely Ravenclaw; the Gryffindor impetuosity and Slytherin reticence will cancel each other out and let the intellect shine forth. I have no idea about his name; I had assumed that would be your decision."

"No, he's ours, not mine. What was your father's name? Tobias?"

He shuddered and his arm tightened around her.

"No."

"Okay, not his grandfather then."

"What about your own father?"

Hermione shook her head.

"I love my Dad but I wouldn't call a baby wizard by his name. He's Thomas Granger."

"Yes, I understand not wishing to name a magical child 'Tom'," Severus said dryly.

"I do want a Wizarding name, though, something he won't be teased for. Was there anything suitable on the Wizarding side of your family ...?"

"My mother's father died just after I began at Hogwarts," Severus said after a long pause. "He was pleased that I was sorted into his old house. He fell out with my mother when she married a Muggle, but I was occasionally allowed to visit after they were assured that I was a wizard, and the old man was kind to me in his way. Had he lived, perhaps my life might have been different. Who knows?"

She slipped her arms around him, cuddling his lean chest and the incongruous hemisphere that swelled where his waist had been.

"What was his name?"

"Hugo Prince."

"I like that," she said. "Hugo. Yes, if you agree, this is little Hugo." She smiled and pressed gently until Hugo squirmed like a tadpole. Severus' heavy breathing was moist against her neck. She assumed he was reacting to her rubbing his belly, until something warm and wet trickled down into the collar of her blouse.

She knew better than to draw attention to the fact that Severus Snape was weeping silently against her hair. She simply sat on his lap, leaning against him, hugging him tightly and waiting until he recovered.

"I'm sorry..." he began, his voice hoarse and nasal as she squeezed him.

"Hormones; don't worry about it. Ginny imitated a fountain when she was expecting both of hers; the silliest things set her off. You probably never mourned your grandfather at the time. Is Hugo all right, then, with you?"

"I never believed I would father a son," he whispered. "I don't know if I can do it."

"Harry said exactly the same when James was on the way. You'll manage, like everyone does. Lucius raised Draco, didn't he? And he turned out well in the end."

She had said the wrong thing, for his breath hitched and then he said, in a completely different voice, the voice of the old Professor Snape, cold and deadly, "Do not expect me to give up Lucius for you, Hermione."

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" She sat up, staring into his hard black eyes, and folded her arms. "I could just as easily demand you should not expect me to give up Lucius for you! I'm not some silly sixteen year old who thinks you'll marry me and sweep me away to a cottage with roses round the door. I'm an adult, I have a good job and a life, interests and friends, and you have the same. I very much hope I shall be able to share you with Lucius, that he'll enjoy Hugo with us even though he already has his own heir and grandson. I want you to be as involved in Hugo's life as you wish to be."

She reached to gently tuck his hair back behind his ear. Severus eyed her thoughtfully.

"You're a fiery little witch, aren't you?"

Hermione opened her mouth to retort and saw the flicker of amusement in his dark eyes.

"You're a patronising git, aren't you? If that was supposed to be a patented Malfoy pick-up line, it was crap."

"Yes, they often are, but he seems to get away with them."

"Not with me, he wouldn't. I'd hex his balls for that one; one red and one gold."

"Mm, sweet," growled Severus, and pulled her close again, bending his head down for a kiss. "I like the way you think."

"Together, we should be able to run rings round him, Severus." He didn't reply, being too busy sucking on her earlobe to speak.

oooOOOooo

Hermione paused at the end of the street, squinting through the hazy summer rain. The tarmac gleamed darkly underfoot, and a teenage boy cycled past, his hoodie pulled up over his lowered head. Severus walked slowly towards her. He had transfigured his travelling cloak into a Muggle overcoat, large and loose enough to disguise his altered shape.

"Which way now?" she asked, and he dug his hands into his pockets.

"Back."

"I thought you were supposed to be doing two miles a day, we've barely made a quarter of a mile."

"I need to go back home," he snapped.

Hermione counted to ten before she trusted herself to speak. "Very well, but we'll get on a lot better if you would just tell me what the problem is."

"Instead of biting your head off, you mean," he said after a long pause. "I have lived most of my life in situations in which an admission of weakness meant at best, a chaotic classroom, and at worst, a death sentence. I apologise for being boorish."

She took his arm. "What's wrong, Severus?"

"My back is killing me." He reached behind himself with his free hand and pressed it to his lower back, just above his arse. She realised that he was walking with a slight roll, as if his back and hips were not quite flexing normally.

"Did it start suddenly?" she asked anxiously. She had a horrible feeling that she recalled Ginny telling her about back pains during labour. He shook his head.

"The pain is constant and has been building slowly for a couple of hours. I've probably been doing too much lifting and stretching." They had indeed spent the day cleaning the house. "I have not had a twinge of bellyache, so I'm sure Hugo is fine."

"I'll contact Healer Strood and get your appointment brought forwards."

He didn't argue, leaning quite heavily on her shoulder as they walked back to the house. He subsided onto the old sofa and stretched out with a groan. Hermione knelt beside the fireplace and reached for the pot of Floo powder.

oooOOOooo

"Nothing to worry about," Strood said briskly, stabbing the tip of her wand at the series of runes hovering above Severus. "Apart from the back pain, have you noticed any other symptoms?"

"What sort of symptoms?" Severus asked. Hermione thought he sounded slightly evasive.

"Any changes in the genitalia? Breast tenderness? Nipple enlargement?"

"I can still maintain an erection, if that's what you mean."

"Changes, Mr Snape. Because my diagnostic tests tell me that you will soon notice them, if you haven't already."

"This is humiliating," Severus muttered.

"Do you want me to leave the room?" Hermione asked, but to her astonishment, he not only shook his head but reached for her hand and gripped it.

"I appear to have acquired a vagina," he said. Hermione bit back an exclamation but it came out as a squeak.

"A birth canal," Strood agreed. "The spell is restructuring your body. The pains in your back and hips result from changes in their shape and articulation; your pelvis is widening to allow room for the child to pass through. I estimate that when the changes are complete, you will be able to give birth."

"Oh joy," Severus growled. "Is this reversible?"

"I suspect it is. When you have given Miss Granger a child, the spell will be completed, and if it doesn't bring you back to your original condition, we'll be able to do so. It may require a stay at the clinic and a series of potions. The good thing is that you will feel more comfortable once the womb is able to take up a more natural position in your abdomen and you'll carry the weight more easily when the baby gets large." She stowed her wand away and smiled at him. "You're no less of a man, you know. You have no ovaries; you are merely a temporary carrier for your baby."

She glanced around before stepping into the fireplace to Floo back to her office, and Hermione was glad she had exercised her transfiguration skills on the carpet and furniture.

"Yes, I know – another thing that I didn't tell you." Severus shifted uncomfortably on the sofa.

"You didn't need to be embarrassed," Hermione said. "I think it's wonderful. The whole thing is a miracle."

"I have no intention of grunting and groaning my way through labour, so you can forget all the guff about the miracles of motherhood, thank you very much. I shall have the squ – Hugo removed magically as soon as he is big enough to thrive on his own."

"I don't blame you in the slightest. What do you fancy for supper?"

"Sardine sandwiches."

"Fish oil, that's very healthy."

"I don't even like sardines, but I could easily eat a couple of tins. Have we got any olives left?"

"You are having me on, aren't you?"

He shook his head.

"Hugo demands that I eat sardine and olive sandwiches and who am I to argue?"

"You'll get a stomach ache."

"You'll have to rub it for me." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "You want to investigate, don't you? Yes, you're blushing, Miss Granger. I shall assist in your further education, seeing as how you are developing into a complete pervert. This is all very gratifying; Lucius will be delighted."

"Shut up or I'll spike your sardine sandwiches with gherkins."

"Hm ... pickles ..."

oooOOOooo

Hermione woke as Severus rolled onto the bed with a grunt.

"All right?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Shh, go back to sleep."

This had the effect of bringing her fully awake.

"Severus, what's wrong?"

"I'm fine," he murmured. "The house is being watched; however, the wards are intact, so I do not believe that the watcher has malicious intent at this time."

"Aurors?"

Severus shook his head. "Unlikely. They are being very subtle about it."

"The best Aurors can be pretty damn subtle."

"I'm sure they can, but why bother? Potter can walk straight through my Floo whenever he wants; why set anyone else to watch us? No, I suspect the usual ex-Death Eaters with a grudge. They loathe me with a passion exceeding that with which they hate Potter."

"Because you fooled them all for years and made them look like complete prats."

"Exactly."

"Should we call Harry?"

"No, they will have set alarm charms. As soon as he appears, they'll Apparate away."

"We should have insisted that you stayed safe at Malfoy Manor," Hermione exclaimed, thumping her clenched fist down on the mattress. Severus snorted.

"My dear girl, what makes you think the Manor is any more safe than here? Believe me, there are only a few moderately dangerous middle-ranking Death Eaters at large. Luckily, the two remaining deadly ones intend that my skin remains in one piece."

"If somewhat stretched in places," Hermione said, running her hand across the shiny, smooth dome of his belly. He caught her hand, pulling it downwards. "Decidedly stretched. Positively straining, I see."

She straddled him, and he caught her hips and guided her until she felt the tip of his cock nudging at her opening. "Mmm, yes, very dangerous indeed, Professor Snape."

"You'll have to do all the work," he said, as she settled herself comfortably and began moving.

"God, yes, I don't want you to wrench your back. Is this ...?"

"Fine," he panted, and although he made some interesting sounds after that, none of them were very comprehensible.

oooOOOooo

An eagle owl landed with a thump upon the kitchen table, almost knocking the chopping board onto the floor. It snapped its bill at Hermione as she attempted to reach for the scroll attached to its leg.

"Trojan, is it?" Hermione asked, moving the stew pot out of its way. "Severus is lying down, so why don't you let me..."

The huge bird took off, flapping through the open door into the living room. She heard Severus speaking to it, and a moment later, it returned the way it had arrived, soaring out of the open kitchen window. Hermione scraped the contents of the frying pan into the stew pot, added a pinch of salt and shake of pepper, clamped on the lid and put the entire thing into the oven. For a kitchen that had once belonged to a witch, everything was extremely Muggle. She guessed that Snape senior had insisted upon the creaky old refrigerator and ancient gas stove.

Severus was reading the latest copy of New Sorcerer, his legs stretched out along the sofa and a heap of conjured cushions behind his back. They were all in shades of green.

"Letter from Lucius?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"Hmm." He turned the page without looking up.

"Anything interesting?"

"That blithering idiot Heracles Yaffingale has restarted the old argument about whether charms can be used to bind together incompatible ingredients in a potion base..."

"In the letter, Severus!"

He lowered the magazine and gazed at her, and then as if making a sudden decision, he reached inside his robe and withdrew a roll of parchment. He sent it bobbing across the room to her hands. Hermione sat down in the armchair and unrolled it. It was filled with Lucius' elegant copperplate script.

Malfoy Manor,

Weston Piercy,

Chippenham,

Wiltshire.

My dear Severus,

You will be pleased to know that Squiffle still has high hopes of having all charges against you dropped very soon, so keep up your spirits. I hope the little witch is looking after you in a satisfactory manner; you are so much more amiable when regularly shagged. If only I were there to assist! I had not dreamed that a baby in your belly would be so arousing for either of us. How large are you now, Severus?

I remember those desperate days when the best we could hope for was a half hour together in my study after a meeting with the Dark Lord. I sometimes wake from nightmares in which He is still living in my house and we dare not even allow ourselves that swift and dirty release. Then I remember that young Potter prevailed and we are alive and free – well, as free as we can hope for. Yet there was something so sweet and wicked about bending you over my desk, my dear Severus. You would be wearing your oh-so-prim-and-proper Professor's robes, and I would hoist them up around your waist and push you down onto the desk. You would claw at my papers, growling like an angry cat as I breached you. You always needed someone to take charge, didn't you? Your choices left you pulled between those two terrible wizards like a bone between two dogs, and neither one used you kindly or exactly as you needed or wanted to be used. Of course I was equally as foolish, and my lamentable lack of judgement and my desire for power almost destroyed my family.

You ached to be filled. You needed my cock so badly that sometimes you took risks. Do you remember the occasion when Narcissa came in as you were lying across the dining table and we had to pretend you had lost your balance when reaching for an escaped owl? I'm sure we didn't fool her for a moment, but she allowed us to believe that we had. Or the time Draco caught us down by the lake at Hogwarts, when I visited in order to wish him a happy birthday? Poor lad; he asked me why he couldn't remember the evening of his birthday, and I had to tell him he had fallen foul of a Memory Charm set into a card by a Gryffindor school rival. He guessed eventually, of course.

Are you full enough now, Severus? Or is that eager arse of yours waiting impatiently for our next meeting? For there will be other meetings, my black-eyed snake; there MUST be other meetings. I cannot bear to consider the alternative. I have grown so used to you being here that waking in the mornings to a Snape-free house is exquisitely painful. I long to fling you across my desk once again. Or are you too swollen for our old games? I am equally happy to lie face to face, so that your hard round belly presses up against mine.

Can you feel movement yet? I would sit for as long as Narcissa would allow, gently rubbing her belly and talking to Draco as he moved under my hands. The best sex I ever had with her was when he lay between us. With you, my Severus, it would be spectacular. Ah, yes, I know, I am guilty yet again of attempting to make you jealous. You are so passionate in your envy and your anger. Yet she is gone, Severus; she is part of the past, and although I regret the death of a dear friend, you are, and have always been, so much more.

I fall to sleep thinking of you, and what you are getting up to with that wicked little witch. I imagine you on top of her, grunting as you ride her, your full belly swaying. Dear Merlin, I should be there! Would she be amenable, do you think, to having you inside her as I bugger you? I would dearly love to have the both of you beneath me. The very thought makes my balls ache. Dear Hermione can have your cock as long as your arse is exclusively mine!

I am rambling after too much cognac but I shall send this with Trojan nevertheless. Do look after yourself and think of me, as I think of you.

Lucius Malfoy

Hermione allowed the scroll to drop to her lap, breathing a little fast.

"Well," she said, and Severus shifted slightly and turned over the page of New Sorcerer with unnecessary force.

"Indeed."

"Severus, this is a love letter."

"This is Lucius grown maudlin after too much brandy, as he says himself. I do not put too much store by it; he is lonely and he is missing his regular bouts of buggery."

"But you do miss him, surely?"

"Of course I bloody miss him!" Severus shook the magazine angrily, as if it had offended him. "I've grown used to living in luxury, to having his house-elves and owls at my beck and call, to his library and his company."

"And to having his cock up your arse."

"That, as well. Why? Do you disapprove?"

"Oh, Severus." She went to sit upon the sofa, and after a moment, he shuffled so she had room to sit against him and slide her arms around him. She rubbed his back, and he gradually relaxed against her. "I'll try and get Kingsley to let you and Lucius meet..."

"Don't bother," he said rather petulantly. "It will only make matters worse. The Slytherins will be accused of plotting again."

"And you don't want to get your hopes up," she sighed. "I'm sorry. You must miss him just as much as he misses you."

Severus didn't reply, but he did not need to. She was getting good at reading him by now, and hearing the slight catch in his breathing meant he was stifling another bout of hormonally enhanced sentiment.

oooOOOooo

Minerva McGonagall met them at the gates, her prim tartan robes, severe bun and brisk manner calculated to dispel any incipient emotional display on anyone's part. Hogwarts looked as it always had: a fairy-tale castle upon its hill.

"Welcome back, Severus, Hermione."

Severus inclined his head. "Thank you, Headmistress."

She gave him a mildly exasperated look and led the way towards the main entrance.

A mixed group of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs on their way to the greenhouses glanced curiously at them, and Hermione realised there was no longer a single student here who remembered Severus, either as the great bat of the dungeons or as the terrifying headmaster.

"As you can see, the renovations are now complete and every part of the castle is fully operational. We have made some minor changes: a memorial tablet in the Great Hall with the names of the fallen, a number of young trees to replace those uprooted by giants, a rather more roomy and modern house for the gamekeeper ..." She chattered on about the changes Hagrid had made to the animal pens and Neville's plans for the gardens and how the new Potions mistress, Ludovica Casadei, was getting on. "I shall offer her the position of Head of Ravenclaw when Filius retires. He's been invited to live with his granddaughter; I can just see him in the middle of an extended family, surrounded by children. Neville will take over as Head of Gryffindor when I go."

Severus had the air of studied calm that suggested he was Occluding like mad.

"You say that as if you expect to go soon, Minerva," he remarked.

"That depends. I would like to retire but not until I'm sure that I'm leaving Hogwarts in safe hands. I had hoped Filius would take his turn, but he is older than I am and wants to spend his remaining time here at a more leisurely pace. I'd be prepared to remain for a few more years as Deputy while the new incumbent settles into the position of Head."

She strode ahead, her robes swirling as she hurried up the staircase towards her office. Hermione, being the shortest, had to trot to keep up, and she could hear Severus breathing hard.

"Old cat's up to something," he muttered as they stood on the ascending spiral stairs.

"She must realise you don't want to go up there," Hermione agreed.

"Have you ever tried using tact?" Severus asked her.

"Have you?"

He snorted, stepping off the top of the staircase and coming to a sudden halt. Hermione bumped into him and then peered around his shoulder to see that McGonagall was waiting for them outside the doorway to her own office.

"Hermione, would you do me a favour?"

"Of course, Headmistress."

"Can you open this door? And do, please, call me 'Minerva'; you are no longer my student."

Puzzled, Hermione reached for the handle. It didn't move, even when she exerted considerable force on it, so she drew her wand. Minerva held out a hand to prevent her from attempting to open the door by magic.

"Severus? Maybe you could try?"

As soon as his slim fingers touched the door, it swung open with a faint creaking of hinges. Severus glared at McGonagall, who refused to be intimidated, but gestured that he should precede her into the office.

The portraits on the walls rustled, and a familiar voice exclaimed, "My dear boy!" Severus gazed up at Dumbledore, then around at the others as they began to applaud. A staid old witch snatched off her pointed hat and threw it into the air; Phineas Nigellus crowed "Bravo! A veritable hero for Slytherin!" and Hermione saw the painted tears that trickled down Dumbledore's face.

Severus turned to face McGonagall and said flatly, "No. I will not do it."

With his black hair, black robes sweeping straight from his shoulders to the floor, pale face and burning black eyes, he appeared to be a heraldic figure carved from basalt and marble.

"Umbridge!" Hermione exclaimed, with sudden comprehension. McGonagall frowned at her in puzzlement. "When Dolores Umbridge tried to take Professor Dumbledore's place, the office wouldn't let her in. That wasn't the Headmaster's doing, was it? It was the castle's."

"Of course," the Headmistress said with satisfaction. "This door opens for me, and for Filius, but it refuses to allow any of the applicants for the position of Head into the office. The castle is well aware that Severus is still alive, and is still the rightful Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"I am not!" he snarled. His hands were clenched at his sides. "I formally renounce the position."

"I shall ignore that for now," McGonagall said. "Do sit down, Severus; I'm sure it isn't good for you to get over-excited in your condition."

Hermione thought for a moment that he really would hex the woman, but many years of Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry had built up both her resistance to Severus' scowl and his resistance to her needling. She clapped her hands, and a tray appeared on the low table by the fireplace. "Tea, Severus? Hermione?"

Severus slowly subsided into a chair and accepted a teacup with ill grace.

"Just listen to what I have to say before you tender your formal resignation, Severus. Oh, do help yourselves to the cakes." She selected a slice of fruitcake, broke off a corner and ate it with every sign of satisfaction.

"I loathed teaching idiots," Severus said.

"Of course you did, and no-one expects you to do that again. Tell me, though, do you truly enjoy brewing potions day in and day out? Making basic healing potions, acne cures and sleeping draughts?"

Severus shrugged. "It's a living."

"Yet you are capable of so much more, my dear. Your year as Headmaster was terrible for everyone, for you most of all, yet afterwards, when Filius and Pomona and I had time to reflect, we realised that you tried so hard to do good when you could get away with it. Do you not wish to complete what you began? You can openly work for house unity, for equality of Muggle-born and half-blood and pureblood witches and wizards, for a truly comprehensive syllabus for Defence Against the Dark Arts. You could even teach advanced Potions to gifted students. I have tutored a dozen pupils in advanced Transfiguration these last eight years and enjoyed the experience immensely." She waved a hand at the teapot, which obligingly filled their cups.

"My personal situation precludes it," Severus said flatly.

"I was coming to that," McGonagall told him, sipping her tea. "Hermione, I need someone to compose a syllabus for a new addition to the timetable. I wish to replace Muggle studies with Muggle-Wizarding studies, in which Muggle-raised and pureblood students discuss the ways in which their own society does things and each can learn from the other. First-years would look at simple matters: say, good manners, travel and pets. As they get older, they might compare Muggle medicine and chemistry with potions, or look at household charms and discuss how a Muggle would carry out similar tasks. In their final two years, students would study politics, laws and economics. I believe you once said that you wished to do some good in the world."

"I did," Hermione said. "And I'm not doing it in my present job, that's for sure."

"What better way would there be of breaking down the barriers between the Wizarding and Muggle worlds than by ensuring that each learned about the other? I can think of no-one more capable than you of writing and delivering such a complex and exciting curriculum. Please, do consider joining us, both of you."

"What about this?" Severus snapped, spreading his hands across his middle so that his robe stretched taut and silhouetted his belly.

"Severus, this is a school! There have been families here over the years; Professor Titmouse lived here with his wife and children when I was a student. There is a precedent."

"I very much doubt if there has ever been an unmarried pregnant Headmaster before."

"Great Merlin, Snape," remarked Phineas Nigellus' snide voice from the darkness of his portrait, "do you mean to say you haven't married the witch? Shame on you!"

"Preposterous," snorted an elderly warlock, "scandalous! In my day, she'd be whipped through the streets and you would hang from your thumbs, young man..."

"Oh tempora! Oh mores!" Hermione muttered and Severus snorted.

"'Oh, the times, oh, the morals'?" McGonagall translated, looking puzzled.

"Spoken by Cicero, a Muggle," Severus told her. "Around 60 BC, I believe.'Quam diu etiam furor iste tuus nos eludet?*'"

Hermione looked at the man who could quote classical Latin with her, who knew more magic than she did, who was going to give her a child, and realised that it was all absurdly simple, really.

*And for how long will that madness of yours mock us? From The Catiline Orations, speeches given in 63 BC by Marcus Tullius Cicero, the consul of Rome, exposing to the Roman Senate the plot of Lucius Sergius Catilina and his allies to overthrow the Roman government.