Four.

Disclaimer: The following characters and places you recognize do not belong to me and are the property of JKR and her affiliates.

~*~

The first thing Snape saw when he opened the door was a sight almost identical to the picture in the old newspaper he had saved for Marie years ago.

Potter was still lying on the bed, now propped up by pillows and sitting up. He did look somewhat different from his seventeen-year-old self, though he was still too thin in the face and his hair was just as messy. His chin was outlined with a trace of stubble on his jaw, and somehow there were faint lines on his face that Snape could see in the distance – he couldn’t take another step near Potter – creases in his forehead and around his eyes, but nothing of the sort around his mouth, which seemed unnaturally red in the glaring light of the hospital room.

He hasn’t smiled for ten years, Snape thought nastily, but the effect was ruined by a trace of shock. That man-boy sitting there had lain on that bed for a decade, not able to experience the small joys and larger stresses that was a common part of Snape’s life. He hadn’t matured, raised his perfect famous family in a perfect famous house or worked to make a living. He had only sacrificed his consciousness and helped make a life.

Snape mentally shook himself. With Marie’s hand still clutching his, he would make sure that the status quo could be maintained – minus the comforting coma that had lasted for so long.

Hermione slowly walked past him, stopping at the side of the bed. She placed a hand on his forehead and said, “Wake up, Harry. We have visitors.”

He stirred a little but didn’t open his eyes.

“Do you think he’ll grace us with his awakening soon?”

Hermione took her hand back and crossed her arms. “It was only yesterday when he woke up for the first time. He could slip back into unconsciousness at any moment!”

He should not have woken up at all. “Remember who created the cure that brought him back to consciousness.”

“Shhh.” Marie tugged Snape’s sleeve and pointed at the bed.

Potter was awake, and the lone mediwitch in the corner sat up from her chair to begin to test the wizard.

“Won’t take long,” the mediwitch said as she waved her wand over Potter and took notes with a levitating quill and parchment.

“Where’s Madame Pomfrey?” Potter asked once the mediwitch had left them with some time for privacy.

Hermione began to smooth the sheets on Potter’s bed. “She’s at Hogwarts,” she said.

Snape looked at them with shock. It couldn’t be. “He doesn’t know?”

Potter’s head swiveled in Snape’s direction. He scowled at his former professor, saying, “What is he doing here?”

“He… saved you,” Hermione said with a nervous edge to her voice.

“Why is he here?” Harry insisted.

“I brought Marie here, and he doesn’t know what has happened to him. Who she is?”

“He was only awake for a little while last night – we were so happy to just to have him here–”

“You had no right to risk our coming out of hiding when he knows nothing of the past ten years!”

“I was only trying to–”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here!”

Snape turned to Marie and Hermione to Potter, who had spoken in unison with his daughter. Potter looked at the girl as if seeing her for the first time. Then again, this is the first time, Snape thought as Harry sent a confused smile to Marie. Snape had a sudden impulse to stand in front of her and protect her from that smile.

Hermione sighed. “I’m sorry, Harry. It’s just that we have so much to tell you. So much has changed.”

Potter, now looking at Marie with curiosity, said, “Then can you tell me where we are? This doesn’t look like the hospital wing.”

“No, we’re at St. Mungo’s.”

“So I take it we won?” Potter said as though he was injured in a Quidditch match.

Hermione nodded. “Yes, we won. Voldemort is dead.”

Potter smiled again. “Brilliant. Then what has changed?”

“I’ve changed,” Marie spoke up. She looked at Snape and whispered, “Can I tell him?”

“I believe you are quite capable of doing so. But may you?” Perhaps this reminder of proper grammar would be the last fatherly lesson he could teach her.

“May I tell him?” Marie asked, impatience in her voice.

“Yes.” A heartbeat. “You may.”

Marie beamed and slowly made her way to the bed, her exuberance fading with each step. She stood next to Hermione and took hold of the woman’s hand.

“You’re my sleeping daddy,” Marie said.

Potter looked at the girl and then at Hermione as if to receive a confirmation of the fact.

“I’m… your father? You’re my daughter?” Potter stammered. He reached for his glasses on the night table, which Snape suspected had been cleaned, shined, and God knows what else for Potter’s eventual use in the past decade.

“Yeah. My father is Harry James Potter, born on the thirty-first of July in the year 1980. He is the Boy Who Lived to Defeat Voldemort on June thirteenth, 1998. Upon killing the Dark Wizard with wandless magic still unknown to most wizards today, Harry was put into a coma from the force of his spell. He left no surviving relatives.” Marie paused for breath after reciting the passage in Encyclopedia Magica she had read so many times.

“But they were wrong because I’m alive. My name is Marie Potter. I don’t have a middle name ‘coz Hermione thought that you should make up one for me. I was born on June fifteenth, and my daddies are you and Severus. My mum was Ginevra Molly Weasley, and–”

Snape stared at Marie, astonished with all the talking she was doing. She must have been saving this speech for years.

“Your mother was? What happened to Ginny? And Ron?” Potter looked frantic with his glasses that were now too small for his pale face and the blankets that seemed to swallow him up in white folds. He looked at Hermione again.

But Marie was still eager to answer another question. “I’ve never met Ron before, but Hermione talks about him all the time. He’s my godfather. And my mum is with your mum and dad. In heaven.”

Potter’s eyes seemed to go dead for a moment. “Um… thanks for coming by to see me, but I think I need to – er – rest again. It was nice meeting you, Marie.”

Marie frowned. “Okay… but can I see you soon?”

Potter stared at his hands. “Sure. But I don’t feel well right now.”

Marie nodded. “Kiss me goodbye?” she asked hopefully.

Potter faced her and leaned as far as he could. Marie closed the distance and received an unsure peck on the cheek.

“Goodbye, Marie.”

“Goodbye, Daddy.”

Marie ran back to Snape and held out her hand. Taking it into his own, Snape turned on his heel and led Marie out of the room in triumph.

The last thing he saw before he had turned was the lost face of a boy re-awakening to a world of men and an equally lost woman who would have to help the boy find his way.

~*~

Author's Note: Beta'd by Southern_Witch_69.