The eponymous chapter

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"My poor ickle Ronniekins has been Snaped!"

Snape stopped chewing, blinked, swallowed, blinked once more for good measure, and then replied into the near silence of the hall (one obstinate bowl continued to spin at the Ravenclaw table).

"I beg your pardon, Madam!"

"I'll say you'll be begging after what you've done to my poor, defenseless baby! Auror Braidwood, arrest this despicable excuse for a wizard!"

She turned her maternal death glare on the Lead Auror behind her. The grizzled, eye-patched man hesitated a breath too long and was yanked forward by his uniform robes. He cleared his throat in an effort to regain some dignity, but his deep, raspy voice became less formidable as it wavered when he glanced at Molly Weasley.

"Severus Snape, you are charged with endangering a minor, inflicting grievous psychological harm to a minor, corrupting a minor, unlawful sexual conduct with a minor, abuse of a position of dependence, misuse of the controlled Obliviate charm, several instances of using banned Dark magic, and multiple miscellaneous violations of the International Treaty for the Prevention of Cruelty to Magical Beasts and Whatnot. You are hereby sentenced to indefinite incarceration in Azkaban."

Snape pushed his chair back slowly, only to be met with a squad of wand-points held by jumpy Aurors.

"Easy, Snape. No one wants trouble."

"This is complete and utter rot!" Hermione Granger pushed her way to the front of the cowed Gryffindors. One of the younger Aurors flinched, shooting sparks at the nearest faculty.

"You can't possibly send him to jail without a fair trial. That's illegal, not to mention grossly unjust." She marched up to Braidwood, heedless of her once-again goggling audience.

"This man is a known associate of Dark wizards, long suspected of being a Dark wizard himself, with the capability to elude capture if given the opportunity. Because of these circumstances, special emergency arrest powers have been authorized by the Minister. Haven't used them since Sirius Black, come to think of it..."

"And we all know how well that turned out, don't we?" Hermione managed a spot-on sneer. The seasoned Auror recoiled, and Snape shifted his lower portions out of sight under the table.

"Well..."

Up to this point, Mrs. Weasley had been remarkably patient, but her face was coming dangerously close to matching her hair color. "Stop this dawdling and drag his arse to Azkaban!"

In a feat of Gryffindor brashness unequaled since the Vanquishing of the Dark Lord, Hermione broke through the arc of Aurors, slipped past the grasp of Mrs. Weasley, scrambled over the Head Table, and launched herself into Severus Snape's lap. As she attached herself to his face, the thoughts running through Snape's mind were, roughly--Oh Great Merlin again third time today Great Hall again had no idea she was into this I'm really not very well if you insist--and progressed little further except to then wonder if Hermione was still wearing those knickers from earlier. He was therefore confused when she pulled back and began prodding him in a rather non-arousing manner when he didn't follow suit. His normally whip-quick mind was sluggish in processing auditory stimuli, and so it took several repetitions for him to get that she was telling him...

"Severus, run." Hermione punctuated her plea by hopping out of their co-occupied chair and tugging him to his feet. Snape almost put in a protest, but was shoved to the door before he was able. He soon recognized the urgency of the situation and sprinted out of the room as if a gaggle of werewolves were in hot pursuit. The Aurors, highly trained in the resisting of Dark magic as they were, broke the charm of temporary idiocy plaguing witnesses of such Snape-Granger interactions quite a bit faster than normal and rushed out of the Great Hall after him.

They chased him down the long hallway before organizing themselves into striking position. The formation of Aurors took aim and with trained precision, fired just as Snape dodged to his left around the corner. To be entirely fair, the swatches of cloth at the tail end of Snape's cloak had little intent of moving anywhere on their own, but nevertheless dutifully halted when spelled to. Snape himself, only mildly inconvenienced by the separation of the detained fabric from the rest of his garment, continued down the hall, spelling hindrances, such as stone-to-glass charms, in his wake whenever possible.

Several of his curses hit home. A brave, manly Auror collapsed with a shriek beneath the crushing pain of a stubbed pinky toe; a hulking epitome of masculine pride fell to his knees clutching the elbow that was brutally banged against the blunt side of an ax from a suit of armor thrown in his path; his twin, an equally gargantuan, overly muscled fellow, staggered with hands plastered over eyes that'd gotten a bit of dust in them from blasted plaster fixtures, and little Suzie Fignottle, Auror First Class, who was limping gamely along at pace with the rest whilst trying not to completely tear the ragged shreds of gristle holding her mostly severed leg (a more accurate suit of armor) to the rest of her body, supported and guided her more severely injured fellows in the process.

By the time he'd reached the stairwell that had been a hotbed of activity recently, Snape had gained a few yards and several turns lead over his pursuers. He paused for a few seconds preparation, oblivious to another threat: a vengeful beast closing in on him. She had a score to settle with the man who had set the False Cat-Woman on her beloved, and now would take the opportunity offered her with zeal. As he was occupied with retrieving a small container from his robes, Mrs. Norris pounced with a fury that would have engendered pride in her feline ancestors. Snape felt her attack before he heard it, as she waited until her claws were in the process of being firmly planted in Snape's behind before declaring her intentions to shred him to tiny Potions master bits. Snape emitted an undignified bellow as he attempted to dislodge the determined cat manually with little initial success before casting a Repelling Charm on her while looking over his shoulder. Mrs. Norris landed nimbly a few meters away and readied for a second assault. Before she could strike, however, Snape had conjured a heavy cloth sack and sent it toward her. At first, the container was poised to envelope the feline, but seemed to change its mind mid-flight and instead wrapped itself firmly around her middle. The cat paid it little notice and leaped toward him. Or attempted to, as her hindquarters moved perpendicularly to her intended trajectory. Her efforts at simply walking toward him were equally successful; former grace and power had abandoned her limbs to a state of useless, uncoordinated flopping.

Snape briefly watched the distraught animal flounder about and growl in frustration with vindictive glee, then got on with the business of evading Magical Law Enforcement. Opening the small tin, he removed and swallowed a small pill-like object contained within, spat into box, tipped some dust onto the floor, then hurled it down the chasm. He made a careful leap to one of the staircases passing nearby, and as soon as he left the landing, a dark-robed form bamfed into existence behind him. The Snape doppelganger climbed down to a lower staircase, and was immediately replaced by yet another duplicate. More Snape-forms popped into being on the lower levels just as the Aurors arrived.

"Halt, Snape, or we'll be compelled to use excessive force!" The replica Snape ignored them and headed for the dungeons like the rest. Braidwood swore with alacrity that caused a pirate in a nearby painting to blush and made good on his promise, sending a crippling hex toward its retreating back. The near-Unforgivable had the unintended effect of doubling the amount of Snape to contend with, and though the Aurors took in the initial surprise with admirable equanimity, they were shocked into immobility upon encountering the swarm of faux-Snapes descending the lower staircases. Braidwood immediately spurred them into action again, setting them to the utterly exhausting and equally pointless task of catching the snarky equivalent of geometrically-reproducing smoke.

"He split in two again, sir!"

"We've got even more heading that way!"

"Hold him there!"

"How the fuck do you fucking expect..." The excessive use of expletives seemed to bring Snapes raining down from the ceiling, and the cacophony of the resulting (increasingly black-robed) scrum hindered any further communication beyond cries of pain and frustration.

After several minutes, Braidwood discontinued the fruitless endeavor, separating the remaining bits of his Aurors from the pale, greasy pack of ugly Hogwarts Potions professors.

"You lot head down to his rooms. We've got all the entrances manned and his quarters sealed. He's not going far. Haglund, follow me. We'll need Dumbledore to track him down."

From his Disillusioned perch above the melee, the true Snape blessed Mad-Eye Moody for being somewhere, anywhere else at that particular moment, and was, for the first time, thankful for the existence of the Weasley twins and their Multiplying Mints (improved upon by Snape for his own personal use, of course). As the last steps of the harried Aurors faded away, he made his way to Gryffindor Tower with leisure.

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The portrait of Sister Hildegard von Bingen reluctantly admitted him entrance to Hermione's rooms, grumbling uncouth aspersions concerning the inverse relationship between the chastity of the room's regular occupant and the average nocturnal clamor emitting from it, all of which Snape successfully ignored as he had been doing for the past several months. First order of business was to retrieve everything he would need for protracted Auror avoidance and concurrent defense against the charge of buggering the Minister of Magic's youngest boy.

"Nilly!" he called into the empty fireplace. Inconveniently (though justifiably so), after the small incident in which she had declared a one-elf war on his testicles, Nilly no longer had access to his rooms, nor the emergency supplies he had stored there. She could, however, fetch his son before the Ministry poked its collective head out of its collective arse and realized the child might be useful in drawing Snape from hiding. He had no fear Hermione would be retained for the same purpose, but he sincerely hoped the Weasley boy had been taken to a secure, and, as was Ministry habit, very uncomfortable, location.

Just as he was about to call for the house-elf again, she appeared in the middle of the room behind him, heralding her arrival with a constant stream of apologies.

"I's sorry to be late sir, but I was shining Professor Trelawney's crystal balls, and she was saying they was dirty when they wasn't, and made me clean them over and over and she was seeing things in them and saying it was dirt and Nilly is so sorry..."

Out of what had become automated self-defense, Snape moved until at least two articles of furniture were between them before interrupting her.

"Never mind! I need you to retrieve my son from the nursery. Bring along some toys and such for him to play with, also. And get some milk and any alcohol we have in the kitchens."

"Yes, sir! Nilly is always happy to help Professor Snape..."

"Yes, yes, I'm well aware of that. Now go." Snape followed the order with a few choice words that would not be in keeping with the core values of S.P.E.W., but Nilly seemed not to notice, smiling (demoniacally, still, to Snape) as she set about her mission.

Snape began moving furniture around to compensate for the bassinet, then, considering how cramped the space was going to get very soon with three occupants, created a tastefully un-Gryffindor divider between bed and desk, planning to enlarge both spaces at a point soon in the future. After making several (highly illegal) Portkeys out of useful objects about the room, Snape collapsed in the comfortable chair he'd Transfigured for his own use. With accommodation and emergency escape measures thus put in place, he settled in for a long siege, deftly snagging a Firewhiskey bottle as Nilly deposited a dipsomaniac's wet dream over every available horizontal surface.

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AN: Been a long time, but I hope this was worth it. Reviews and feedback are much appreciated! Thanks for reading.