Thank you Cecelle for covering my imperfections.

Monday, 9 January 1988

"Professor Snape!" The demanding voice preceded the opening of the heavy wood door. "You wanted my advice."

Just what I need, two females to drive me insane, he groaned inwardly.

"...And we need to move along," Poppy said in a rush. "It's Saturday, you've no classes, and we've limited time."

Severus ran his hand through his mussed black hair.

"Now get your cloak and meet me in the entry," the school matron said sternly as she walked out the classroom door. "You could comb your hair while you're at it. Do you think I want to be seen with such a disreputable sort?"

Diana dropped lightly to the floor and wound about his legs as he walked across the Potions lab to his office. The Potions master opened his wardrobe and looked over the cloak choices. He kept two in his office: one for warmer weather, one for colder temperatures.

"Black or black?" he asked the Kneazle.

She poked her head into the wardrobe and reached out with one paw.

"The black then," Snape said in agreement. "You've exquisite taste, Diana."

Black cloak snapping behind him, Severus walked briskly to the entry hall, aware that he'd kept the school matron waiting quite long enough.

Madam Pomfrey stood to one side of the heavily reinforced doors. Instead of her usual starched uniform, she wore casual robes, sturdy hobnail boots, and a moleskin cloak draped over her shoulders.

In silence the two walked through one of the doors and out into the cold January day. Clouds came from each of their noses in the frigid Highlands air.

Bloody cold, he thought grumpilyas he cast a Warming Charm on his person. He noticed that the witch beside him had quickly done the same.

With careful steps, the pair walked on the icy path toward the gated fence. Mr. Filch grumbled under his breath as he opened the gate. The caretaker did not look pleased to be out in such inclement weather.

Filch snapped, "It's cold out here. What time will you return?"

"I hope you're wearing warm drawers, because we may be gone some time," the witch replied with good humour as she turned on her hobnailed heel and began to walk down the slope toward the village.

The wizard's only choice was to follow.

"Where to first?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

The wizard clapped his gloved hands together for warmth before pointing at an innocuous looking shop.

Poppy Pomfrey glanced at the man beside her and followed him in through the door.

A plump clerk in a smock bowed obsequiously at the pair. "How may one serve Sir and Madam?"

"One may serve by buggering off until I've decided," Severus replied, not quite under his breath.

The clerk jerked backward, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. He undoubtedly had never had a patron take offense at his superciliousness before. Bowing, the plump man retreated to the counter.

The Potions master's black eyes roamed the small room until something caught his attention. His long legs took him to a small cupboard – a pile of thick-looking duvets. Deft fingers flipped through the stack, and he plucked one from the lot. Eyes narrowing, Snape felt the thickness of the item. He shook and turned it about, as if looking for some flaw.

Turning to the witch at his side, he held the duvet out for her to inspect. "Do you think this will do? Will it be warm enough?" he asked with concern in this tone.

Before Madam Pomfrey could reply, the shop assistant rushed up to the Potions master, excitement at a very profitable sale evident in his posture.

"You have made, if I might be so bold, an excellent choice. Your wife, Sir, will never complain about cold toes with that duvet," the rotund little wizard said smugly as he beamed at the witch.

Severus heard Madam Pomfrey's snort of amusement and forced himself to count to ten before he hexed the annoying prat. His wand fairly tingled in his pocket as Snape's annoyance grew.

"The duvet is not for my wife," he growled. Snape turned back to the witch. "Do you think the down has too much loft? Will the quills poke through the fabric and cause irritation?"

"No," Madam Pomfrey answered as she felt the merchandise. "I think it is a sturdy material; I doubt you'll be bothered by the stray quill. As for the loft—well, that is a personal choice."

The clerk, seeing an ally in the witch, chimed in, "Sir deserves the best, and this is the very best! You will be, to be sure, protected from every unhealthy draught..."

"Unhealthy draughts?" Snape turned to Madam Pomfrey in as close to a panic as he ever came. "What if she gets a chill? What if they get a chill?"

"Severus! You don't mean to say this is for your Kneazle?"

"Diana requires the best I can offer her," he uttered unapologetically as he counted out the coins.

"That feline is manipulating you," the witch said with humour, as she watched the clerk fold and tie a green ribbon about the bundle

Without shame, Severus tapped the parcel and shrunk it to pocket size.

Snape shrugged his shoulders as he tucked it into his robe pocket.

"At least I know where I stand with Diana; she doesn't play games with me," he said, and added sotto voce, "unlike others I am acquainted with."

The gloved fingers that were on his arm squeezed it slightly with a gentle reassurance. He looked up into the bright sky, and if tears teased his eyes, it could be explained away as a result of the light. His throat felt a bit thick and he found he needed to clear it.

"I think, Professor Snape, we should pay a visit to Acromantulas to Yetis. I don't doubt that Diana will soon be happy to have something to amuse the..."

A lovely witch with long red hair crossed in front of the young professor; she held an infant in her arms. Severus felt his stomach drop. Would the guilt, pain, and self-loathing ever disappear?

"...kittens. They will rapidly become a handful."

The Potions master attempted to appear his natural self, but the witch beside him was rarely befuddled by his attempts at concealment. Snape allowed Hogwarts' school matron to lead him to the local pet shop.

The door swung open to admit the magical pair. The mixed odours of wood chip bedding, animal urine, and various sorts of food stuffs swelled over them, neither pleasant nor unpleasant.

Poppy led him to one corner that had a variety of brightly coloured toys. He picked up one ball and shook it: it made the squeaking sound of mice. He placed it into the witch's hand. Then, he found a felted snake-shaped toy.

"Definitely this," he said wryly as he dropped it into Pomfrey's hand. Severus Snape soon had Poppy's hands laden with all manner of toys, from the conventional (bewitched play rats, puffskeins, and gnomes) to the unusual (flashing self-hiding balls—"guaranteed to give hours of fun"—and ever-playing string.)

The school matron said nothing when he paid seventeen Galleons for toys.

"My Diana needs the finest accoutrements," Severus said smoothly as he shrunk this package as well. "The sky is darkening; we should begin our return soon."

"I think you are correct, Severus. However, I would like to make a short stop at Madam Puddifoot's—we need to warm up before we begin our walk home, and you have a birthday to celebrate," Poppy exclaimed with a smile.

Severus couldn't contain the groan that blossomed from his chest.

"I promise to tell the headmaster that you ate a sumptuous feast, so you can avoid him and whatever hideous cake he dreams up at supper," she said coaxingly.

He regarded the woman's face briefly before nodding acceptance.

They each drank their favourite cups of tea and demolished the stacked tea tray of small sandwiches, scones, and pastries. Severus leaned back in his chair; he felt stuffed as one of Dumbledore's chairs.

He stretched his legs out toward the warmth of the fireplace. Life was becoming less hectic and more tolerable. The Potions master had few demands on him other than teaching dunderheaded students, his duties as head of Slytherin, and keeping tabs on his old Death Eater fellows.

He was reaching for another cucumber sandwich when he felt his familiar cry out to him over the distance: "Now! Come now!"

Severus whipped his cloak over his shoulders and urged the matron to move with alacrity. Dropping coins on the table, they rushed from the village and up the path to the school's gate.

Mr. Filch stood beside the gate with a frown on his face. "About time," he muttered.

The Potions master didn't slow down as he strode past the Squib and up to the front doors. He didn't slow his pace as he glided down the stairs to his dungeon quarters. Madam Pomfrey kept pace with his long stride. Neither noticed that Mr. Filch followed closely on their heels.

Diana howled with relief as Snape entered his bedroom. The creature's eyes illustrated that there was little time to dally.

Pulling out the green beribboned packet, Snape touched his wand to it. The griffin down was carefully arranged in the wood box beside his bed. Diana pushed it about with her feet, to make it more to her liking, before she lay on it.

Snape felt tears run down his hooked nose as a small, wet Kneazle kitten rapidly made an appearance, only to be followed by three others. It had been a long time since he'd last felt such unbridled joy.

"Oh, Severus," Madam Pomfrey murmured happily, "two of each!"

His throat felt too thick to reply, so he nodded his head.

The new mother licked her babies clean and pushed them to her teats. They latched on with determination, suckling with vigour while their tiny kitten paws kneaded at their mother's belly.

"I told you; she knew precisely what to do," Poppy said as she waved her wand to clean the bedding. "But I am glad you asked me to be here; it's always a joy to see a new being come into the world."

Severus sat with his back against his bed, one of his hands stroking Diana's head, clearly smitten with his Kneazle.

"She is perfect. I don't think there has been anything so right in my life for a very long while. Just don't make this a habit, my love," he said quietly to the new mother. "I couldn't take the worry."

Diana gave her master's hand a quick lick with her pink tongue. Her eyes slowly closed as her head fell heavily into Severus' hand.

Neither the Potions master or the school matron saw the look Argus Filch had on his face. He was totally smitten.