Not Just an Ordinary Day

Prologue

I had been alone for too long. The war was over- the Light had won. But I was still distrusted. Oh, my name had been cleared but would anyone admit me back into society? Of course not. My very name was repulsive- my actions even more so.

I kept to myself. My house in Russia was all I had and was all I needed.

Until that day…

Minerva called me to Hogwarts- the hospital wing was in need of restocking. That was all I was good for. Aside from spying, that was all I was ever good for.

Minerva didn't pity me- I had made my decisions freely all those years ago. She did, however, feel some sort of – what? Motherly tenderness, perhaps, towards me. At every turn, tried to bring me back to Hogwarts- tried to bring me back into life again.

I had no patience for life anymore. My life was worthless and would remain so.

No self-pity of course. Just a realistic view on the world and my pointless, meager existence.

There was nothing for me and I had learned- a long time ago now- that I could expect nothing.

……..

But these potions were not for the hospital wing- I was mistaken. These were for a friend of Minerva's. She researches- like I used to (Minerva's not so subtle remark was not lost on me though it was a waste of her breath).

Delicate as these potions were they had to be delivered by hand. Of course, the Headmistress of Hogwarts had no time for house calls. But I had nothing better to do, right?

I sneered but did as I was asked.

After all, I had nothing better to do.

………..

She answered the door after a few moments, her still unruly hair pulled back behind her. The reading glasses were new- but distinguishing.

Surprise was evident on her face. I was used to that- occasionally I ran into people who presumed I had died- faded away into nothing. Of course, I had but with the added benefit –ha- of returning to life from time to time. Though I failed to see the difference between listlessly wandering through life and being dead.

"Severus" was out of her mouth before she could help herself- keeping her trap shut was never her strong point.

My name on her lips sounded foreign, no one called me by name- there was no one to do so. Minerva referred to me by my ridiculous Hogwarts title or last name. Impersonality suited me- a stranger to familiarity.

I gave a curt nod in response and lowered my eyes to the box in my hands.

Realizing why I had suddenly materialized at her door, she bid me enter and led me to her study.

I wasn't the least bit surprised to see the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, the parchment strewn over desks, chairs, the floor.

A quiet humming came from somewhere but was easily ignored as I made my way through the clutter to a free corner of a table to set down my package.

I turned around and saw her bending down to take something from a very short someone.

"It's lovely Stephanie." Her quiet voice seemed to thunder around the cedar walls.

I realized the short someone was a child, holding up a drawing of sorts.

The only thought I spared was that someone, somewhere on this planet, was daft enough to make a mother out of the know-it-all with hair bigger than herself.

Said know-it-all smiled up at me and thanked me for the potions.

I gave another curt nod- wasting words was never my specialty.

The child spoke up. "Who's that mummy?" Granger's face tightened.

I would have left at that moment- sticking around to hear myself being introduced to a five year old was not my idea of a good time.

I would have gone had something in the child's manner not struck me as slightly interesting.

Her voice questioning her mother was no surprise- any offspring of Granger's would have to be as inquisitively obnoxious as her.

What halted my step was this child's face.

Large eyes like Granger's, yes.

But whoever the father was would have to be an odd specimen indeed to give her that pallid complexion and that horrible, stringy… black hair.

I'm sure that at that point my expression mirrored Hermione's. My eyes widened, my breath caught in my chest.

I was surely delirious- too much isolation, too much exposure to cold in Russia.

I bent down to the child's height and studied her. She looked intently back.

After a moment, her small voice spoke once more.

"Daddy!"

Without warning, two tiny arms thrust out and latched onto me, a small head buried into the hollow of my neck.

I glanced up at Hermione, my brow knitted together.

She looked straight back at me.

In that moment I knew.

I was the daft one.

Wee! Another story, and this one completed! I wrote this in probably about half an hour and I love it. I was impatient to have some father/daughter interaction in When All Else Fails so I decided to write a bit in a one shot.

Hope you guys like! I would like to add to this story, but I don't really know if I will. Drop me a line if there's something in particular you'd like to see added and I'll see what I can do.