~o~

Chapter Two: A Misconception: Redux

~o~

For reasons he found unfathomable for the rest of his life, Severus Snape earned an Order of Merlin, Third Class, for performing the first magical C-section on a male mother. Perhaps it was due to the irrationality of a nation in mourning for its golden boy ... or maybe it was the typical bumbling ineptitude of the Ministry at work. He didn't argue against it as the prize money was nice. For reasons he chalked up to insanity induced by grief, Sirius Black named him the godfather of Harry's daughter, Lily Narcissa Malfoy-Potter.

Malfoy might not have been able to choose the first name, but he ruddy well had input on the rest. And his surname came first by alphabetical right and absolute persistence on his part.

~o~

Though the Boy Who Lived was dead, the world moved on. The fact that the death of the celebrated Harry Potter occurred in the classroom of a former Death Eater and due to the 'bumbling' of a once-accused Death Eater's child caused a stir in some sections of the community.

Rumours spread. Conspiracy theories abounded. Vigilance was constant. Sales of The Quibbler went through the roof.

A bitter public willing to believe anything met the eventual return of Voldemort. His supporters were found and flogged in the streets.

~o~

Lupin pitched in raising the brat. A dog, a werewolf, and the great bat of Hogwarts were the best parents a witch could have, even if they constantly bickered. Sometimes her father they nicknamed 'ferret' visited, usually on her birthday, holidays, and every other weekend.

Today Lily Narcissa was five.

Her living father had come to visit, bringing a stack of presents to Twelve Grimmauld Place. Seeing her at this age was a shock, like looking at a sister. Minus one thing. In a way, he could also see Potter. That realisation had struck him like a hard slap. Potter, no, Harry, deserved to be with his daughter. The boy hadn't been that bad when it came down to it. Were it not for Houses, they might have been friends. Were it not for Malfoy, Harry would have still been alive.

Seeing death, causing it, however unintentionally, had told him just how horrifying life could be. Choosing path different from his father's was difficult, but he did it for his daughter. Their daughter. He had never particularly liked Harry. Now, as a young adult and member of the Order, he could at least appreciate the other boy's perspective on things.

Harry Potter had been ... okay.

The girl in front of him needed to know the full truth. Eventually, he would tell her the whole sorry tale. Not today. She needed only good things now, needed to think that everyone in her family was still a hero, that morality could be black and white. For now, he could help honour her other father.

'Did I ever tell you that you have your father's eyes?' Malfoy said as he twirled her around in a hug.

The little girl nodded once she was standing on the floor. She pulled on her colourless, straight locks. 'And I have my ferret daddy's hair!'

He sighed and gave a dirty look toward his mother's cousin, Sirius Black, who pretended to drink tea with false innocence shining on his face. Remus Lupin coughed politely into his hand, but that didn't hide his grin. His wife, Tonks, Malfoy's other relative in the room, openly laughed. Snape refused to meet his eyes as one corner of his mouth ticked up.

So much for everyone gaining a little maturity and wisdom through the years.

~o~

Voldemort looked down at his robes, now dripping with a pink potion. Whatever the Granger woman had splashed him with had no ill effects except for a heavily distended stomach. This was the efforts of the so-called 'brilliant' witch? He began to laugh. A lightning bolt of pain ripped through his abdomen, cutting his high giggle short.

'What have you done?' he said.

She tossed the potion vial almost carelessly away from herself. It shattered on impact against the floor of the Great Hall. 'I've killed you. Be sure to thank Harry for helping discover this little invention.'

'Hermione, you didn't,' her gangly red-haired friend said. His face was the colour of turned milk. He seemed ready to be ill.

'I had no choice,' she answered. 'This was the only way. And it's Professor Granger while I'm in these walls, even to my ex-boyfriend.'

Beside the young woman, her allies looked horrified. Even Dumbledore had widened eyes and an ashen face. The face of Severus Snape the traitor went from its usual sallow tint to a sickly green. The entire Order of the Phoenix collectively took a step back.

'This can't be reversed, my girl,' the Headmaster said.

'I know.'

Voldemort staggered. His wand clattered to the floor. He slowly lowered himself to sit on a nearby bench. Looking at the table, he saw it bore familiar shades of green and silver. Home at last. His rightful place, as it had always been, as it would always be. One day the whole of Hogwarts would have those two colours alone. Something moved inside him and each flutter of it was painful. The woman had seemingly infected him with a parasite. 'It doesn't matter w-what you've done ... what tortures you inflict ... I won't die.'

She gave a small, almost sad smile. 'You will.'

'I am Lord Voldemort. I live. I am im -'

Several objects rained down at his feet as she removed them from her absurdly tiny purse. There was the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, twisted as if scorched by a terrible heat; his grandfather's ugly ring; the locket that had belonged to Salazar Slytherin ... every last Horcrux, down to the decapitated corpse of Nagini. Huh. So that was where the damned snake went.

'Immortal?' Granger said. 'Not anymore.'

'No.' All his work, his decades of work and toil, lay before him useless on the floor. The sacrifices did not matter. His efforts did not matter.

The monster inside him kicked violently, and he saw the witch smile.

'Since I know how "fond" you are of your name - your true name, Tom - I'm going to name it after you.'

He locked eyes with her and she did not look away. In the light of that steady gaze, he felt something that he hadn't suffered for decades: the complete fear of a child toward his elders. He half expected her to set a cupboard on fire or to send him to the nearest corner to think about what he'd done. And this she inspired in him when she was only twenty or so. The things she might do at his age ... those would turn the world inside out, of that he had no doubt.

'Name what?' he said.

She sauntered over to him, plucking up his wand on the way. 'Our child.'

Be sure to thank Harry. That was what she had said moments ago. He realised all too late what she meant. No. It could not be. His abdomen burst in an endless ache beyond that of any Crucio. He saw red light behind his eyelids before all went black.