Disclaimers: I don't own anything. Except the word 'Hagrid-shit' which is 50% JKRs. Damn you.

Godchild

"… And they lived happily ever after, the end. Now-go-to-sleep."

Big, round eyes, wide awake, stare back at me. His mouth parted; revealing tiny teeth that I suppose will grow into fangs if I don't read the child another goddamn story. Fairytales. What. A load. Of testicles. What do kids get out of these things? Seriously; Snow Witch succumbs to live with twelve horny goblins, chokes on a grape-sized apple, in which Prince charming, the wanker, aka Harry Potter, makes his big appearance, as usual… and oh my Merlin and his great pubic beard! He goes in for the kiss and she is… alive! Contrary to popular belief; she did not die of salmonella. They jump on a hippogriff and fly towards the cheesiest horizon and live happily ever after, dying prematurely in a boat of lovesickness- give me a bucket. Worst. Story. Ever. Second worst, this is probably the first.

"What?" I ask beginning to feel nervous as he gawks at me, which makes one wonder whatever does his eye behold; a man-sized piece of steak. It starts to feel like a staring competition in which you have to remember, whoever blinks first is the weakest link. And this kid is not blinking. My face twitches, my eyebrows, the sides of my nose… I feel like I'm being molested by a ventriloquist's pervert hand. My eyes are starting to water like I've caught a whiff of onion, but all I can think of is: don't you dare blink; cry all you want, let it all out, but don't – ah shit… let the ugly baby win. "You didn't like that story?" I ask him. He shakes his head and the ungrateful child sticks a miniscule finger up the little hole of his nose. "I didn't either. Life's unfair isn't it?"

At least we both agree on one thing; that story was a pile of Hagrid-shit. What's even bigger is the green blob that is now standing gloriously on the tip of his finger; it's a lion king moment right there, when the baboon is on the verge of throwing Simba off the big rock. The finger is the rock. And you get the idea… As a half blood, I update on my muggleness, my apology if that offends you so much. I stifle a laugh in the form of a snort as he tries flicking it off in an attempt to get rid of it. It eventually vanishes. I don't know where, I blinked and it was gone, hopefully it hasn't landed on my face. I tuck the oh-so-feminine-pink blanket with little stars dancing around it, undoubtly selected by Tonks, just below his chubby little neck that not so long ago I had wanted to wrap my fingers very tightly around. "There are two things you need to remember in life Teddy, a) it's full of disappointments."

He slowly closes his eyes, finally, his shock of dark hair, the little smug pout, little round nose, long thick eyelashes finally resting on the pillows of his pokeable cheeks…

"And b) If a woman in the street chokes on an apple, looking like she's on the brink of death… for god's sake don't ravage her mouth, you will be charged for sexual harassment and worse, she may have herpes."

That she may. He looks sort of okay like this. Less predatory. Less of a reminder of what I didn't do. Severus you are horrible, I know, but do you see a halo around my head?

"I suppose you'd just leave her there?"

I quickly turn and standing in the doorway like some sort of sexy prophet loitering at the gates of heaven, was Remus. Did I just say that? What I meant to say was that he honestly needs to get himself a new jumper, preferably one that doesn't involve Molly stabbing him in the chest with one of her colossal alphabet stamps.

"Oh, you're back." I say indifferently trying not to sound too excited. Why should I be excited? Nonsense. "So… how was it?"

He shrugs and approaches Teddy in the hideous pink cocoon, "I didn't like it very much to be honest. The only part worth staying awake for was when Neville was about to propose to the girl; he accidentally stumbles on, you know thin air I guess. He just... wasn't-ever the careful type... so anyway you just hear this huge 'rip!' And next thing you know she bursts out crying and runs off the stage in nothing but her lacy red knickers. I wished you would have come."

I shrug. I don't particularly fancy paying a visit, literally for I am a stingy bastard, to see my ex-students, even if they are theatrical stars on the road to glorious fame, as you probably already know that I dislike famous people, especially ones with scars, in fact just people in general. And big deal! I've seen women minus their knickers and don't intend on seeing one again.

However, I must confess, deep down inside the bowels of my deepest desires, I wish I had tagged along; the third wheel; the lonely thread trailing after the rolling button. At least. If only I, for once, pretended not to be a complete asshole two days ago when he in fact did ask me and I replied, "I've no time for such frivolity." Oh yes, no time in the world. What with snakeface having been wiped out of the surface of the earth for over two years now; Severus Snape, has been very busy indeed, sitting on his arse drinking herbal tea.

So anyway catwoman suggested, unnecessarily mind you, "Well then Severus, why don't you look after Teddy?" Oh let me think. Why? "You will need a babysister won't you Remus?" Oh right, I really want to take care of my own grandson... Then his… 'wife' chewing on a piece of gum, that woman's always chewing on a piece of gum, said, "Oh, would you really do that for us Severus?" Us. They have become a collective noun.

I lift an invisible bottle of liquor and drown myself in its piss.

"Wotcher Snape!" Speak of the devil. I descend the stairs, behind Remus, who, from the three metres between Teddy's bedroom door and the beginning of the steps, I have just been admiring the peachiness of his backside.

"How did it go? Did he trouble you much?" she asks.

"Despite the fact he peer pressured me into reading three bedtime stories in a row, not at all."

She was wearing a strikingly red, strapless dress that hugged her tightly at the core, fanned from her waist down to the middle of her thighs. The first time I saw her before they had left; I cringed, enviously. Not that she looks better in the dress than I do; I think the whole universe is in on me with that one and I accept. But I realized, here's Tonks: Young, sexy, smart, not to mention anatomically flexible, and here's me: Old, greasy, lanky and anatomically inflexible and for that I thank thy creator for bestowing upon me more than just a large nose. So take your pick Remus Lupin, having in mind that she is a woman, and I am obviously a man, though I do have a sexier voice than her.

"I'll be going now then," I say, slipping into my dramatic robes which look so out of place in here. For a split second Remus' eyes widen and his grin falters, or maybe that's just me playing with my own vision.

"Oh, please stay for a while, it's the least we can do. Look, I'll go make some coffee." And leave me with her? I don't think so. Last time that happened I was tearing my heart out while she reminisced about the days when I used to teach her. I am not as senile as you think; I have a very capable, functioning memory thank you.

The inevitable ensues.

Remus disappears into the kitchen and Tonks opens her mouth. Then here we all are... here I am, there they are.

We sit and sip our coffees, we talk and laugh like good old friends, she touches his hands once or twice, mine flexes tensely, they exchange looks, he smiles modestly, his eyes wrinkle, what I would do to be in her place right now... I take another sip and it burns my tongue.

The living room; its humble Christmas tree wilting in the corner in mid-March; the baubles and tinsel having not lost its sparkle reflects the blazing fire in the stone hearth; the navy blue couch and its saddened form, hinting the one too many deeds that have pressed down on its very fabric; the olive green walls patterned in tiny pale yellow diamonds hence having much reason to hate life; make up this home. And it rings out in laughter while Teddy sleeps safe and sound in the confines of his pink cocoon.

And it feels oddly nice…

Then I leave. Out into the cold outside world, turning nice into ice.

How can three hours in the shithole affect me so much? The coffee tasted like bread.

... A lonely piece of fucking bread.