Chapter One:
When Hermione Granger entered the room, she was startled by the look on her Headmaster's face. Albus Dumbledore was smiling a smile that didn't quite reach his expressive eyes.
And she knew she was in trouble.
"Miss Granger, thank you for coming so promptly," said the elderly Headmaster. "I am sorry to have interrupted your Friday night plans, but we have a situation that must be discussed."
He gestured to an empty chair in the center of the room and Head Girl Hermione Granger took a seat. She nervously glanced at the professors seated next to her, Trelawney and McGonagall, and atProfessor Snape, who was hovering near a shelf full of odd contraptions and apparently inspecting the items for dust.
"Am I in trouble?" asked Hermione, with a half smile. "I actually haven't broken any rules lately, so I'm a bit confused as to why I'm here."
An inelegant snort came from the direction of the shelves and Professor Snape turned around, wiping his hand on his robes.
"Miss Granger, the day that you can honestly say that –"he began.
"Severus," said Dumbledore. "That will be enough. I realize you are on edge, however, please do not take it out on Miss Granger."
Snape rolled his eyes and flopped, inelegantly once again, into the seat on Hermione's left. Hermione turned to stare at his slouching posture, possibly more concerned now than when she noticed the void in Dumbledore's expression. Professor Snape did not slouch.
"Let's get this over with, shall we, Headmaster?" Snape said, clearly sulking.
"Yes, let's," added Hermione, confused and a bit stunned by her normally graceful and acerbic professor's actions. She tore her gaze from the Potions Master and back to Dumbledore.
"Miss Granger, our divination professor has prophesized something we believe concerns you," began Dumbledore.
"And?" Hermione said.
"And, it wasn't good, Miss Granger," said Snape.
"What do you mean?" Hermione replied, alarmed.
"Now Severus," began Dumbledore, "don't frighten her."
"Oh, don't worry, I won't. The prophesy itself will be enough for that," growled Snape, sliding further into the cushions of his chair and leaning his forehead against his fingertips.
"Sybil, if you would, please?" Dumbledore asked. The bug-like professor blinked a few times, took a deep breath and spoke:
"On the day of the serpent's dawn
The chief lioness will find herself entangled with
The slippery leading asp;
Only with the fruit of their bond,
A world divided may unite;
And join the Phoenix on his flight."
The room sat in silence for a moment while Hermione pondered her professor's words.
"Chief lioness and a slippery asp? No offense, Professor, but I don't see how this prophecy can possibly be about me," she said, thoughtfully. She glanced at Professor McGonagall and her eyes narrowed. "Chief lioness?" She turned to look at the still disgruntled Snape and it clicked.
"You two have to have a baby!?" she gasped, shocked, looking back and forth between the two professors.
"No, Hermione," said Dumbledore gently. "You and Professor Snape must have a baby."
"What?!" screeched Hermione, attempting to rise from her seat. McGonagall restrained her gently as the teenager began to cry. "Bloody hell, no way!"
"Now, see here," began Dumbledore.
"I TOLD you she would react this way –"said Snape, standing and beginning to pace. "I am not the only one repulsed by this idea of yours, Headmaster. Sybil is a right fraud, no offense my dear. And I am not ruining Miss Granger's life and my own by -- by – mating with her and bringing a child into a world torn apart by the Dark Lord and hatred on the rantings of a mad, insect woman! Not to mention the fact that Miss Granger and I barely tolerate each other – and I swore that I would never --"
He abruptly stopped, both pacing and screaming, and once again flopped into his chair to brood.
"What, Severus?" said McGonagall, glancing at the silent and stunned student sitting beside her. She reached over to pat Hermione's hand. "Let's all discuss this rationally. Hermione, dear, to answer your earlier question, I am unable to have children of my own. Therefore, we believe the 'head lioness' in the prophecy is you, our Head Girl. Now, Severus, please finish telling us how you feel about this prophecy and our current solution. I believe Hermione needs a few more moments to acclimate, then I want her to speak."
The no-nonsense and stern brogue-tempered speech from the deputy Headmistress had a calming effect on everyone. For a moment, only Hermione and Snape's unison harsh breathing could be heard as the unlikely pair attempted to calm themselves. Finally, Snape took a deep breath and spoke:
"This information does not leave this room," he said softly. "However, I -- I had a very unhappy childhood and –"
A snort from the direction of Sybil Trelawney interrupted the quiet speech. He glared at the woman, who quickly pulled a folded, yellowing tissue from a pocket and blew her nose innocently.
"Go on, Professor Snape," said Hermione. "I appreciate whatever you will have to say."
Startled at her request, Snape simply stared at Hermione for a moment before continuing.
"My parents hated each other, and they in turn hated me," he said. "I will not bring a child into a similar relationship."
"I do not hate you, Professor," said Hermione, still clutching McGonagall's hand. "I do not like you, but I do not hate you. I do hate Voldemort, however --"
Hermione turned to Dumbledore, who was rolling the prophecy in its sphere back and forth across his desk blotter. "Professor Dumbledore, how do you know the asp in this particular prophecy is Professor Snape?"
"We don't absolutely know anything, that is unfortunately, the way of prophesies," sighed Dumbledore. "However, the timing of the prophecy is what leads us to believe that Severus, as opposed to one of your classmates or another Slytherin are the male component. 'The day of the serpent's dawn' seems to indicate the conception should ideally occur on a birthday. The prophesy was given to us last night and Severus' birthday is tomorrow. We believe you may conceive tomorrow night and somehow, the child has a role to play to help Harry defeat Voldemort."
"I suppose that makes sense," said Hermione, mentally reading through the prophesy again. She smirked after a moment's thought and snuck a glance at Professor Snape. "Happy fucking birthday, eh, Professor Snape?"
"HERMIONE!" gasped McGonagall. "Such language!"
Snape however, had only chuckled at her uncharacteristic speech. "Minerva, we're asking her to spend her NEWTS fighting morning sickness, her first year of freedom as big as a house –"
"Gee, thanks, Snape," Hermione interrupted, burying her head in her hands.
"—and the rest of her hithertofore expected to be happy life, dealing with me and a child which could easily have my disposition –"
A groan came from the curly mop of hair hiding Hermione. Dumbledore, despite his best attempts, grinned at the distraught pair.
"– and if she wants to say 'fuck' I think we should allow her a little latitude," he said. "But, if you tell anyone I said that, I will be forced to deny it."
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," said Hermione, from underneath her hair.
"Indeed," replied Snape.
The group sat silently for a few moments before Snape rose and tapped his student on the shoulder. Without a word, he offered her is hand and led her from Dumbledore's office. Within minutes they arrived in his quarters, which overlooked the lake and were situated directly above the Slytherin dormitories. She walked to stare out the large windows at the lake, while he stalked to the mahogany bar in the corner and poured them both a stiff drink.
She took it without question, downing it without a sputter.
Snape was, reluctantly impressed, to say the least. He took her highball glass and accio'd the bottle of scotch for refills.
"Heavy drinker, are we, Miss Granger?"
"I'm eighteen and fighting a war, what do you think?" she retorted, sipping her new drink. "I'm not an alcoholic, if that's what you are asking. I won't drink while I'm pregnant with your – our—"
"I didn't think you would."
They both stood for a few moments, enjoying the lake view and sipping the numbing alcohol.
"God, this sucks," she said, finally.
"Yes, it does." He paused. "Miss Granger, I -- I must ask you –"
She tilted her head to look at him for a moment, chuckled at his inability to continue and the strange red hue coloring his cheeks. Instantly, she knew what he was asking.
"This is the obligatory, are you a virgin question, right? Is what is making you blush?" she asked, holding out her glass for a third.
He filled the glass to the rim and nodded, waiting.
"I'm eighteen and fighting in a war, Professor, what do you think?"
"I think that makes me feel marginally better about tomorrow."
"Good, I'm glad you do," she sniped. "Because I'm just a tad upset about it all."
"You should be." He thought for a moment. "Shall I make you a lust potion for tomorrow evening?"
Hermione turned to look at him for a moment. Her scrutiny began at the top of his head and ended somewhere mid-thigh. She grinned.
"Nah, I think I'll be okay," she said. He snickered in response. "I suppose this is the wrong time to tell you that most of the seventh years have a collective spanking fantasy?"
"Yes, it's the wrong time," he said. "And, I am not sure what to do with that particular bit of information when I have to teach my NEWTS level class on Monday."
She forced another smile.
"You're brave, Miss Granger," he said. "Or you've had too much to drink."
"False bravado brought on by acute shock, I would expect," she retorted. "And a bit of alcohol, too. I am not thrilled with being forced to have sex and reproduce with someone that I can barely tolerate, however, I must admit you are a bit better when you are in shock and drinking. This whole conversation is a tad surreal."
"Indeed."
"Indeed. Will you need a lust potion tomorrow, sir?"
"I'm pushing forty and my partner is eighteen, Miss Granger, what do you think?" he replied. She threw him a genuine smile and then sighed, turning back to contemplate the fading light outside the window.
"This sucks, doesn't it, Professor?" she said, sighing again. "How are we going to get through tomorrow, much less the next nine months?"
"You forget the next eighteen years, Miss Granger," he said, suddenly very serious. "I never expected to be a father, but I will not be a bad one, if I can help it."
"I suppose that is a comfort. Why don't we call it a night? I don't see a point to waste hours discussing something that isn't -- well, negotiable," she said.
"You are right. We are trapped by the bug woman. Perhaps if the prophesy is the incredible load of tripe that I think it is –"
"We think it is –"
"That you won't conceive and we will only have one night of horror to live through."
"Very true."
He took her glass and place them both on the bar, gesturing towards the door. As she began to leave, he grabbed her arm and turned her.
"Miss Granger – Hermione – Thank you for taking this so well. You have handled this much better than I did last night, I must confess. I will attempt to not be a greasy git during this whole ordeal."
"Thank you, Severus," she replied, a bit nervously. She leaned up and kissed him quickly on the cheek before leaving his quarters. "I'll see you tomorrow night."
"Good night, Hermione."
"Good night."
TBC
Of course, it all belongs to the wonderful JK Rowling. Wish to God it were mine.
And Love Endgame is not abandoned, I've just had a zillion years of writer's block and won't return to it for a while. I'll finish this one first and then see how it goes. Thanks for reading!