Nora listened to Severus' day with factitious interest. Harry was seemingly oblivious to it as he listened with genuine interest in Severus' doings.

"Dear Merlin, did you know that Longbottom and Lovegood managed to produce a child even more inept than Longbottom?" Severus thundered. "That idiot boy ruined three cauldrons today! Three! His potion was spitting and hissing, and instead of informing me, he continued adding ingredients to it! It exploded!"

"What were they making?" The question came, surprisingly, not from Harry but from Nora.

Severus was too frustrated reliving his day to notice. "Scar-Minimizing Salve," he answered immediately.

Harry chuckled. "Let me guess. Longbottom added the newts eyes three at a time?"

"Of course," Severus muttered darkly. "And the…"

"Three-toed sloth hair in decigrams instead of grams, yes, I figured," Harry laughed.

"Daddy Sevvy, why would that cause a reaction like that?" Nora asked.

"Because potions-making is a very precise art," Severus answered. "You have to add things at the right time with exactly the right amounts, or you won't get what you wanted to, which you should know."

He turned to Harry. "How was your day?"

Harry groaned. "Don't even ask. Three of my students were distracted by something, and we were doing a practical lesson today. Jelly-Legs, Petrificus Totalus, and Locomotor Mortis. Well, those three idiots sent the curses ricocheting off the wall – when they weren't mispronouncing the words."

Severus' lips twitched. "Ever wonder if we chose the wrong profession?"

Harry nodded miserably. "I hate students some days."

"Daddy Harry, why do you do it, then?"

Harry smiled wanly. "Because, for some odd reason, I actually enjoy educating half-witted students about the finer points of dueling. Merlin knows why."

Severus' eyes narrowed in contemplation. Their daughter rarely took dinner with them (it was 'uncool,' especially now that she was at Hogwarts), and when she did (usually not because she wanted to), she was sullen and quiet.

Certainly she never displayed this kind of interest in their lives.

He considered the most tactful way to point this out and noticed that the same idea had occurred to Harry.

"So, Nora, why aren't you eating in the Great Hall today? I'd've thought you would want to chat with your friends." Damn. The man had no tact. Then again, neither did their daughter.

"Well," Nora hemmed. "I… kinda need something."

Severus smiled in grim satisfaction. He knew his daughter too well.

"Yes?" Harry prompted.

"Er… Well, I need you to, uh, talk to Professor Flitwick."

"I do so regularly," Severus assured her. "Anything special I should mention?"

"I… uh, misbehaved in class pretty badly, and he's threatening to kick me out and not let me back in again."

"If it was bad enough to make Filius angry, then you probably deserve it," Harry said. "He's not irrational. And we won't use our positions as Hogwarts professors to fix your troubles. You need to deal with it. Talk to Filius yourself."

Nora scowled. Severus put on an air of factitious sympathy.

Factitious – adj. 1. Produced artificially, in distinction from what is produced by nature.
2. Artificial; not authentic or genuine; sham. Word of the Day, February 20, 2008)