Full Story Synopsis: Ten years after the final battle, many things have changed considerably for our favorite witches and wizards. Arthur Weasley is the new Minister for Magic. Harry and Ginny are busily creating their own Quidditch team to eventually compete against Ron and Luna's own growing team. Hermione has her own bookstore and is blissfully single after a few soured relationships. And Severus Snape has finally gotten what he wanted: power and wealth. Of course, he'd have been much more delighted to not be Headmaster to a bunch of dunderheads…

Notes before this story gets going… and should cover most of the story:

This came as a plot bunny I could not swat away. It was warm, pink and fluffy. It reminded me of my childhood security blanket. I was cold and lonely. It took away the chill, but in return made me write this. Please excuse me for the blasphemy of this canon.

This story could be considered slightly AU, as it is a big "WHAT IF", though it is up to you to choose whether it truly qualifies as AU. JKR has said Snape does not have a daughter, and I do believe he doesn't have any children at all, even though some might secretly wish for something like that. However, him not having a daughter is canon only in the first seven books—because that is the scope JKR is writing in. Who knows if he got a little frisky in a bar one night and ended up with a baby on his doorstep nine months later after the war. Of course, that's saying he makes it out of Book 7 alive...

The ideas represented in this fic, as far as legislation and Ministry activities go, are slightly more Americanized than I had intended, but I hope you will forgive me. I also hope you will forgive me for making Snape a little bit more "human" now that he has power, money and a kid to tame him. I'll try not to make Snape too fluffy with his daughter, as I always strive to stay as in canon and character as possible, but the idea of this story is new territory for me.

Lastly, I do know how Chris Columbus portrayed Flourish and Blotts as a well-organized bookstore in Movie 2—at least from what I could see. From my reading in the books, I feel that it might be different, especially if it is an old establishment like the other shops on Diagon Alley. You know, sort of like one of those old antique bookstores. It's lived in and there's a general area for everything, but it's not in any particular order.

Constructive criticism is always appreciated, and if you are a Brit picker, or would like to be my Brit picker, let me know. I could use someone well versed in all things British looking over my chapters for me.

A very special thanks to my new beta, Keladry. hugs

Prologue

::March 2003::

Severus Snape poured himself onto the uncomfortable, lumpy sofa and took another long swig of Ogden's straight from the heavy, fancy cut crystal bottle. It was definitely one of the best gifts he had received lately, and from someone who actually understood what he went through on a daily basis. They knew why he would need such a potent elixir to cope with his life; as far as he was concerned, everyone should be aware what the educators at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry dealt with on a daily basis. If the general public even knew what incompetence they were faced with, they would have been appalled, and the demand for strong liquor would have increased tenfold.

Something needed to be done before these dunderheads got to Hogwarts. He was afraid that he might do something drastic if another child asked him to clarify the difference of wolfsbane and monkshood when he had already given a lengthy explanation over their similarities many times before. Nonetheless, education was the last on the list of reforms Rufus Scrimgeour was pushing through the Ministry. The most important thing on his list, essentially, was pleasing as many wealthy people as he could manage so that he would win the bid in a year's time to run for Minister again. He had been a slightly more effective Minister during the Second War than Fudge had ever been, but his popularity was waning now that the Dark Lord's terrorism had been vanquished for some time.

However, the public did not appreciate Scrimgeour's clawing for approval with convoluted legislation to improve his poll scores. As a matter of fact, it was the popular consensus of much of the English magical world that Muggle and Muggle-born relations was the most important issue facing their world, not the reelection of a mediocre leader. And it would seem that there was only one person who would be able to do that job fairly: Arthur Weasley.

Severus grumbled lowly. He would rather poison himself before seeing that man as the head of his government. All right, Severus knew he may not go that far, but Arthur did love Muggles far too much and would eventually anger many remaining purebloods and half-bloods when he only gave his attention to Muggle-borns. Severus would not be able to handle that, even if he did not care whether someone's father was a monkey or a wizard of the purest blood, so long as that someone could write a decent essay!

He did have to admit—albeit grudgingly—that Arthur had done a fair job picking up where Dumbledore had left off with the Order. Since Severus' true loyalties to the Light were made apparent four months after Dumbledore's death, and therefore marked him as enemy number two to the Dark Lord, he would have been useless to the Order out in the field. This left him in a permanent limbo with nothing to do until Arthur, knowing that strategy was not his strongest suit, asked Severus to be his right hand man in planning. He had been allowed ample time to observe the man stalwartly command and rally the troops. It had turned out that Arthur was considerably more intelligent and capable than anyone gave him credit for, and Severus fell into a peaceful advisory role.

Still, Severus had to worry about what Arthur's love for Muggles might mean to everyone else.

All avenues seemed to lead to the red-haired, bespectacled man as the clear contender for the upcoming elections—his family had gained wealth, prominence and various Orders of Merlin since the Dark Lord's fall. Severus supposed, though, in picking the lesser of two evils, he would have to cast his vote for Arthur. Perhaps having "friends" in high places was a good thing and certainly appeared to be better than being aligned with the Malfoys, who were now shunned in most circles.

A knock at the door to his chambers startled him out of his thoughts.

"Who is it?"

"Minerva," said the slightly hoarse voice of their fearless headmistress.

Severus muttered a few oaths as he pushed himself from his seat. Muscles groaned and joints crackled. It was hell to get old. Well, at least age faster than he should have. Damn the Cruciatus-happy, snake-faced lunatic that had done this to him. He set the firewhisky bottle on a side table before opening the heavy wooden door to reveal the severe, tartan-clad woman. She was in her dressing gown with her hair out of the customarily strict bun; she had clearly been going through her evening rituals when something had obviously crossed her mind in need of dire, critical attention. He was about to ask why the old bat had trudged all this way on such a chilly night when he noticed the pink parcel in her arms, clashing horribly with the dark earth tones of clan plaid.

The parcel proceeded to wiggle and gurgle.

"Which of our foolish students—"

"No one," she said.

"Well then, I didn't know you were a nanny now, Minerva," he remarked.

She pursed her lips into a fine line, clearly not amused with his cheek. "I am not. No, Severus, this child was left for you."

"What?" Incomprehension found and muddled his brain. What did Minerva mean that this thing was left for him?

"Filius was coming in from Hogsmeade this evening and found this bundle outside in the cold by the front gates. He brought the ween to me. Thought that there was some mistake that it would have a letter attached and addressed to you," she explained. With thin, wrinkled fingers, she pushed away the disgustingly pink flannel blanket from the baby's face. He did not look at the baby, though. He was too busy trying to read Minerva's face for any sign of jest.

Severus, feeling the full affects of the Ogden's in his blood now, let out a completely ridiculous bark of laughter. "Hilarious, Minerva. So, who was the mastermind behind this prank? He will meet the same fate as the person who gave me that Canary Cream."

Minerva scowled. "No one is joking, Severus. This is quite genuine."

He dared to look down at the squirming bundle now, overcome with the insane need to disprove this situation, and he was not beyond using physical characteristics as evidence. Large blue eyes stared back at him inquisitively on opposite sides of a well-proportioned nose. The child had alabaster, porcelain skin and the blackest hair. The only thing that told him the gender of the child was the pink blanket around her. She was a cute child, he would admit, though he had never been particularly fond of babies or children to begin with. Who in Minerva's acquaintance had given birth recently and allowed the child to be used as pawn in this wicked joke?

A Potter?

Sudden, intense bitterness flooded his body. It would not be the first despicable prank by a Potter… but he had expected better of Ginevra.

"Cannot possibly be mine. The nose is too small," he said.

The headmistress met his gaze and rolled her eyes. "Noses continue to grow throughout one's life, Severus. Surely you know that."

"I have never gone to bed easily with anyone. Well, perhaps there may have been some on occasion. But I haven't," he paused and met Minerva's eyes sheepishly as an excuse not to say "have sex" in front of her, "with anyone since that Muggle on New Year's last year, and a Muggle wouldn't have been able to find Hogwarts to leave the child."

"Unless that Muggle found someone else to do it."

"The Muggle didn't even believe me. How would she find someone else, witch or wizard, who would do it?"

"There are ways, Severus," Minerva said and dug into her dressing gown pocket.

Minerva handed him the sealed Muggle envelope with his name scrawled across in flowery lettering. He warily took the white paper from her hands, collecting himself as best as he could before splitting open the gummed lining with a finger. This had to be some joke, and he most certainly would not give Minerva the pleasure of seeing him resort to panic over the situation. Face the Dark Lord? Sure, no problem. Be the one responsible for the greatest wizard of all time's death? Alright, he would make do. Tell him he had fathered a child? There was no way on this green earth that he could handle a situation like this with any amount of aplomb. Still, curiosity won out, and he opened the letter.

Minerva readjusted the child against her chest and cooed lovingly; he read aloud.

" 'Mr. Snape—I didn't know what to do with Dorothea. I never planned to become pregnant after that evening together, but I did. I never believed what you told me about being a wizard. It was New Years after all; I had thought it was the character you chose to portray for the evening. I cannot continue to care for this baby—this thing—with such freakish tendencies. If you are what you say you are, then she is too, and I can't care for her without loathing. I'm sorry.' This is ridiculous. How can she even be sure it is mine?"

"How can you say she is not yours, Severus? She looks like you, except for the nose and eyes. The woman obviously has seen some magical predisposition, going by what she has said in the note."

"I still do not—" He began, looking up from the letter now grasped tightly in his fist. "I—she said she had taken potions against conception. I made sure to ask."

The old witch scoffed at him. "How romantic. Was this before, during or after?"

"I cannot recall."

Minerva sighed. "Well then, you must have kept in mind that she is a Muggle, Severus. You know as well as I, perhaps better than I do, that Muggle contraceptive potions are not as good as ours."

"Merlin's balls, Minerva, of course I do! But even I cannot think straight with the prospect of pleasure staring at me in the face. Can't I have one weakness and not end up penalized for it?"

"Men," she muttered.

A feeling of hope seized his senses when he remembered something important. Perhaps he could prove the girl was not his. After all, if the child truly was his, then the chances were she would be a witch, even if the mother was not. The mother's testimony about odd occurrences be damned. "You didn't see her name on the list when she was born?"

"I don't watch the list, Severus. I have other important things that occupy my time," she said. "I probably would not have noticed until we started preparing Hogwarts letters for her year that she carried your last name."

"So you verified? And the bewitched quill did give her my name?"

Minerva nodded slowly, but unquestionably. "Dorothea Snape. Middle name: Marie. Date of birth: 5 September 2002."

"Or perhaps you are really jesting and you found a Muggle birth certification with her when Filius brought her to you."

"Severus, be reasonable here! Have you ever known me to scheme like this? I scheme for the better, not the worse."

"This cannot be happening. I cannot care for a… a… child!" he said, moving quickly away from the door. Minerva followed him and shut the heavy wooden door. "You know I cannot, Minerva! Send her to an orphanage… something! I cannot even care for myself, much less another being."

Minerva moved over to him slowly. "I will not send her to an orphanage, Severus."

He clenched his fists. "I don't know the first thing about babies or about children. I hate children, or perhaps you forget my thoughts on those dunderheads I try to educate. I know nothing about the fairer sex. Who will care for her when I teach? I simply cannot take her, and you're foolish to think I can."

"If she truly is your child, Severus, she will not be a dunderhead," Minerva said and looked at the baby again, cooing and smiling.

He dropped onto the settee, covering his face with his hands. "Minerva, I can't."

The matriarch sighed heavily and sat beside him. "You know I have no Inner Eye, but perhaps this beautiful girl was born for a reason. Perhaps the Powers decided this was what you needed in your life at this time."

"To accomplish what, exactly?"

"Something to soften you up." Minerva let a smile crack her lips.

"All she will be is a vexation."

Minerva shook her head and looked down at the child again, who had fallen asleep in her arms. "I will care for her tonight, and tomorrow, when you have a clear head, we will discuss this further."

----

Severus grew a little more enamored with the child every day.

Despite his initial reservations, which clearly had a great amount of validity at the time, he had risen to the challenge. He had risen to the challenge of combating the uneasy feeling fear gave him. Still, though, he could not quite ignore the sheer beauty of the generation of the human species, and that he, Severus Snape, greasy-haired, black-clad bat of the dungeons could have been fifty-percent responsible for such an amazing feat. Even he could appreciate the creation of another life, the remarkableness of it all, and this was perhaps more the reason why he had resigned himself to being saddled with a daughter sooner rather than later.

Perhaps it was wrong of him to view her as another one of his experiments, but that was what she was to him most of the time. Everything he did was trial and error. How was he supposed to know that he had to hold the child regularly? Or that her crying was a need for attention in other forms of play, rather than only picking her up and feeding her? That he was supposed to talk to her? But as he would with experimental potions, he added one variable and observed. Then he would add another, or take something out. Eventually he would find a halfway decent product.

As she grew older, he learned quickly that his domineering personality had to soften slightly if he was going to survive the following years; she would immediately start bawling when he stood over her, scowled and berated her over something she did wrong. It got to such a point that she was becoming afraid of him and was losing that remarkable curiosity with the world around her. He, on the other hand, realized that he was falling into the same pattern his own father had fallen into when Severus was a child. From that point forward, he had vowed that he would not allow them to be the same—where his child was always running and hiding from his violent mood swings.

Severus knew without a doubt that his father was the reason why he had become so antisocial and incredibly insecure. His father had been the reason for it all along, but this was not saying that Severus wanted to change himself. As a matter of fact, he was quite pleased staying where he was: alone. He was insecure—he did not know if the next thing he did would be met with rancor or with happiness. So many times had he been met with rancor, though, he had eventually learned that all he was capable of receiving was animosity, even amongst his peers. Even within his own House, he never had any close friends. They all considered him a little odd, but they at least had also feared him to some degree. His insecurity had for so long manifested itself in his cruel mannerisms. It was the only way he could control anything, and it had worked satisfactorily for so long.

Until Thea was left for him. Of course, his students would not see any difference in class, but things were considerably different for Thea. She had taught him, absurdly enough, that there was a time and place for his snark and overbearing attitude. She was to be met with compassion when she did not know any better, even if she did deserve punishment. He would shamefacedly admit that all the insufferable girl had to do was ask and he would do his best to procure whatever it was she wanted. If she asked him to jump, he would ask, "How high?" It was such a peculiarity to go from controlling one's own life to be controlled by someone who was forty-three years younger than himself.

But even he would have to admit he would not change it if he could. Perhaps Minerva had been right—he had needed this more than anything else in the world.