Severus Snape had a lot on his mind.
The last month of the school year was, as always, hectic to say the least. The final exams for all seven years had to be prepared and late assignments marked, although the young professor had it in his mind to do away with the customary "catch up" week that the previous potions teacher had introduced. In addition to this panic the Slytherin Head of House, Professor Estrellus, had finally passed on. As Severus was wont to muse, the overbearing workaholic had finally entered permanent retirement. Severus had inherited his House post, naturally; it was Dumbledore's way of sweetening the bitter situation he had forced Severus into.
Severus still pondered over the nuances of the conversation he had had with the Headmaster that morning three years ago. Yes, morning; in accordance with pathetic fallacy it should have been late at night in the midst of a wailing storm. The Potters had been slain two days before, a street full of Muggles blown up the day after that, and by the evening of the incident with Black the Mininstry of Magic had dissolved into complete pandemonium that would last for another week. There had also been a few last stands taken by the remaining throngs of die-hard Death Eaters. Severus had thoughtfully kept a low profile during all of this. His own personal outcome was uncertain. While he had been an informal member of the Order and their chief informer, there was also the sticky issue of the rather prominent black mark on his left forearm. As well, the full extent of his services to either side could not be vouched for by anyone. Severus had kept to his secretive ways even after joining the Order and as a result not even Dumbledore was in full knowledge of his doings. While Severus' reticent tendencies had kept him safe during the dark years of Britain's magical community, it was going to cost him once things lightened up.
And so, on that inappropriately bright and warm November morning Severus found himself in the Headmaster's office, grudgingly holding a cup of tea and being offered a lemon drop. Severus had been in hiding at Hogwarts ever since he had tipped off Dumbledore about Voldemort's plan to pay the Potters a visit. This particular morning was the first time in a week that Dumbledore had sought out Severus; he wanted to discuss the future.
What it came down to was, the Aurors at the Minitstry had it in for the young Deatheater. He was on their list and it would only be a matter of time before he wound up in Azkaban with the DeFontaines and Sirius Black and all the others.
"The thing about secrets is that they are so terribly convenient between two people, but once they are divulged, at trials for instance," Dumbledore gave Severus a rather pointed look, "they become rather condemning."
Severus remained silent at this.
"I am afraid that if you do subject yourself to the scrutiny of our courts, I will not be able to do anything for you. I know only enough of your secrets to guarantee you a place in prison. And if I do not defend you, it seems that either way you will wind up in some form of bondage. Either literally bound to a wall in some dank prison cell, or bound in service to the Mininstry, helping them tear down the remaining Followers. It's a dog-eat-dog justice system, so I am told."
This was true. Many Death Eaters were able to escape punishment by turning in fellow Voldemort supporters.
"But you are too crucial to me for either of those options. We must think of the future, after all. Do you understand what I am saying, Severus?"
For Severus it was perfectly clear. He was as well aware as Dumbledore that the prophecy had not yet been fully carried out.
"Then it is settled. I will keep you here. The Ministry will not object to the arrangements, I think. As long as I keep you here with me I should think that Crouch and the Minister will know to keep their distance. Although I am worried about Alastor—"
"In hiding? Here? For Merlin knows how many years?"
"Yes, here, my boy, but not in hiding and definitely not idle. I daresay we will find something to keep you occupied..."
And thus was the foundation of the current relationship the young potions professor shared with his headmaster: a mutual understanding of each one's need for the other's services, a promise of discretion especially in regards to the past, and an abundance of restless tension on Severus' part.
On this particular day when Severus Snape had so much on his mind, this restless tension had just about come to a head. He felt nearly ready to spontaneously deduct Gryffindor two hundred house points in an attempt to placate himself. He had just spent the entire day introducing the new Astronomy professor to her post, as her predecessor was currently more preoccupied with things geological than celestial. Professor Estrellus' successor, Professor Sinistra, was an unattractive middle aged witch with one eye clenched in a perpetual squint from telescope overuse. However it was her tedious personality that really set off Severus. He feared there would now be another Trelawney-of-the-tower to deal with.
There had also been the mundane hindrances associated with babysitting an entire house of the surliest students at Hogwarts, who all were putting the new young Head of House to the test. So far Professor Snape had withstood the trial without revealing a chink in his armor. This was in part grace of his heinous end-of-term temper.
But the real weight on Severus' mind was a heavy mass of personal matters. Although most of his students would never have thought of it, Severus Snape did have a personal life away from school. Admittedly, even Severus had avoided acknowledging his personal life in several years, but the fact of the matter was that his father had died.
Or rather, his father had finally died. At the news, which had arrived by owl post that morning in the tiny handwriting of his mother, Severus had felt the lifting of an enormous weight from his being. It at once allowed him to breath easier and think about things he had not thought about in years. He thought a lot about his relationship, or lack thereof, with his father. Mostly, however, he thought about his dark-haired mother. Once beautiful, her saint-like Venetian features had been crumpled under the back of her husband's hand and the sharpness of her quick black eyes had been dulled by tears.
While news of his father's death had lifted Severus' temperament momentarily, it soon plummeted again once the serious soul searching began. If Severus ever wanted to reconcile things with his mother, now was the moment. Now was the moment for Severus to go home, to see his mother and ask for her forgiveness; and, of course, to burn every vestigial relic of his father.
It was as Severus was penning a brief note to his mother that the final penny dropped. As he read his letter one last time with a dissatisfied frown on his brow a regal-looking black owl silently swooped in through the tall window of his study. Severus had been warily expecting this owl for some time. Eyes not straying from the yellow orbs of the owl, he folded the parchment and placed it to one side on his desk. He took the letter attached to the owl's leg. It was thin and sealed with the crest of a very old, very pure wizarding family. Severus opened it.
He put it down just as slowly a minute later after reading it three times. It stated, very succinctly, that his wife had entered labor that morning and now he had a child.