CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.

-Hamlet, William Shakespeare

Severus shot Narcissa a look as if to say, 'Now what do I do?' She shrugged, rolled her eyes, and placed a hand on Delphini's shoulder. The crying girl pushed her away, drew up her knees, and pressed her forehead to them, her arms wrapped protectively around her body. She was thoroughly embarrassed and furious with herself for this pathetic display of emotion, and yet she couldn't stop. Her shoulders heaved, her body trembled, and the tears continued to flow.

She felt arms around her body and at first figured it was her aunt again, but before she could shrug the woman away, she realized these arms were unfamiliar, as unfamiliar as the man to whom they were attached. She opened one eye, turned her head and peeked out up him from under a curtain of hair. He was looking her over with an expression of confusion and concern.

She wanted to hate him, to tell him how much she hated him and make him feel as unloved as she did, but she couldn't bring herself to do it, because he kind of smelled good... like old books and peppermint candy... and his hold was strong and comforting... and they had the same color eyes... and she couldn't deny that she liked it, being hugged by her father. Being hugged by one of her parents. Even if he was, for the most part, a stranger.

"Why did you hate my mother?" she whispered. "My aunt says babies are made when two people love each other, but you didn't love my mother. And I'm just like my mother, so you must not love me. That's why you've never been to see me, not since I was a baby. You brought me medicine when I was six months old. You looked at me then and saw I would be just like her so you hated me too and that's why we've never seen each other again."

"Why would you think that?" asked Narcissa, thankfully saving Severus from having to respond just yet. "I never said he hated her or that he hated you. I told you he didn't know you were his..."

"But that's doesn't make sense, Auntie." Finally Delphini lifted her head. She tried to move closer to the end of the couch, but as there was no room, Severus took the hint and moved toward the middle, giving her space. She looked at him. "Aunt Narcissa said the Dark Lord chose you out specially to have me with my mother because they thought you would be a good match, that you had qualities that would benefit a child if inherited, like intelligence. So you knew you were with my mother just to... to have a baby. Then you saw me when I was six months old, so you knew it worked, you knew I existed. That means you had to know I was yours. Nothing else makes sense. Which means you chose never to see me again. Isn't that what you said, Auntie? Didn't you say the Dark Lord picked him, even though he did not love my mother? The Dark Lord picked him to be my father because my mother badly wanted a baby, she wanted me, and the Dark Lord couldn't give her a baby even though he loved her..." (Delphini had not been able to give up on the long-held believe that Voldemort had loved Bellatrix) "He loved her and she loved him and he valued her above all others as his most loyal and most faithful and most capable follower, but because he could not give her a baby like she wanted he picked someone else instead. He chose you." She nodded at Severus, then switched her gaze back to her aunt. "And then he brought me medicine when I was sick as a baby, but hasn't seen me since?"

"I... that is what I told you," said Narcissa. She darted a glance at Severus, torn between wanting to keep up this lie and needing to come clean.

Delphini's eyes filled with tears again. She couldn't bring herself to add that it was her uncle Lucius who insisted that Severus had hated her mother so much he was sure to hate her too, but being Legilimens, both Severus and Narcissa were able to discern this. Delphini, dejected and anxious, stared down at her hands, unable to look at either the woman who raised her or the man who'd chosen not to.

Severus cleared his throat.

"That's the truth," he said, heartbroken and guilt-ridden over having contributed, however inadvertently, to the girl's pain. "And yet, it's not."

Delphini wiped her eyes with her palms, inwardly cursing herself for having cried at all, took a deep breath to steel herself, and pointed a bony finger at Severus. "Then you shall tell me the whole and complete truth, sir. I order you to! Or... else." She tossed her hair and sat up straighter, as if daring him to disobey. He cocked an eyebrow, amused by this sudden show of bravado and the empty threat. She looked even more like her mother in this moment than she had upon first entry. Though he could never imagine feeling anything more or less than contempt for Bellatrix, that haughty look on the face of a first year was almost endearing.

"I shall, but not because you've demanded it. I shall tell you the truth because you deserve it. But I warn you, it may not be what you wish to hear. The truth often hurts us. Feel free to stop me at any time."

"I won't," she said. "I can handle it. I'm not a baby. I'm eleven."

"Very well." He leaned back against the cushions of the threadbare couch, illuminated somewhat spookily by the flickering light of the hanging lamp above. "The Dark Lord indeed valued your mother above his other followers. She was, as you said, his most loyal, most valuable, most faithful and arguably most capable servant. But make no mistake, she was his servant. In some ways he respected her position, elevated as it was, but he did not return her love. On the contrary, though he sometimes treated her as one would a wife or girlfriend, he could also be terribly abusive, frequently worse to her than to the others, and she called him not by his name, but by the title 'Master.' She was afraid of him. She, like most others in our world, was too afraid even to speak his name."

"I've told her this," said Narcissa.

"You didn't tell me she called him Master," said Delphini, looking horrified. "Like a worthless bloody house-elf!"

Narcissa, at this, downed the rest of her glass of wine and rose to pour herself more.

"But that doesn't answer anything," continued Delphini, switching her gaze back to Severus. "You must have known I was your daughter if the Dark Lord picked you to be. Right?"

"The Dark Lord..."Severus and Narcissa exchanged a pointed look over the back of the couch. Without him having to say a word, she poured a second glass of wine for him. He breathed deeply, contemplating his next words.

Narcissa brought the wine over, handed it to him, and settled back in the rocker. She had a sudden picture in her head, a memory from eleven years ago August, sitting on that very couch beside her sister, across from Severus, who'd been seated in an armchair he no longer had. She was shaking, drinking wine, listening to her husband's friend, the man she'd been shagging for weeks, and her sister goad and challenge each other, while she fretted over the fate of her only son, set up to die.

Narcissa shuddered at the very thought of it, recalling how she'd sobbed, how she'd thrown herself to the floor by his feet and kissed his hand and begged him to make the Unbreakable Vow. As she, for the first time ever, essentially admitted that her own loyalty to the Dark Lord had waned.

Severus was momentarily lost in his own head too. How could he tell Delphini the truth without scarring her, without giving her information no child should have about her mother, especially not at this young age? How could he possibly kick off his first-ever conversation with his young daughter by telling her that her mother had been pushed into sex with multiple men, men who were not allowed to say no, men who included her uncle and step-uncle, simply so she could have the baby the Dark Lord had been physically unable to provide her?

"Professor Snape?" Delphini wasn't sure what else to call him. Severus seemed too informal and there was no way she'd be calling him Dad (not yet, anyway). "You said you'd tell me the truth."

He sighed. "The truth is this: at that time, and throughout all the years since, I believed I was being lied to. I thought it was always the Dark Lord's intention to have his own offspring with your mother, an heir, but to protect the child, he had to make it appear that the baby had been fathered by someone else. So yes, I knew you existed... but I never for a moment thought you might actually be mine." This was not the whole truth, but also not a lie.

"Maybe you loved my mother a little bit?" asked Delphini, her dark eyes shining hopefully as she stared up at Severus. "Maybe that's why... why you and her were able to have a baby together, instead of the Dark Lord? Because... because if he didn't really love her..." She adjusted her position so she was sitting on her knees, facing him. She glanced toward Narcissa, who had moved to the rocker when Severus joined the girl on the couch. "He couldn't have a baby with my mother because he didn't really love her, because two people need to love each other to make a baby, but you could – I mean, you did – so you must have... you must have... if you loved her a little..."

Fuck, this was painful. He shot a sharp look in Narcissa's direction. Why did she have to tell the girl people needed to love each other to make a baby? What sort of nonsense was that? When his father explained sex to him during the summer between first year and second, it was basically 'this goes here, that goes there, if you're not married you should stop before you're finished, and if you fuck it up, nine months later a baby comes, then you're stuck with the woman until one of you dies.' This was, Severus figured, the case with his parents. No mention of love.

"Maybe you thought she was pretty?" added Delphini. "She was pretty, wasn't she? Auntie says my mother was pretty. Auntie says even the Dark Lord thought she was pretty."

"Delphini is a tad obsessed with her mother," said Narcissa delicately. "It's my fault, I'm afraid. I've built Bella up for her over the years... perhaps I shouldn't have."

Severus sighed yet again. What an awful place to have found himself in. He could lie and pretend he didn't loathe the vile sadist who'd birthed the vulnerable girl before him, or he could break her heart by telling her the truth, that he'd hated every moment with her mother, that her mother had been no one to put on a pedestal or wish to emulate... that her mother had been almost as evil as their shared Master. Damn it, Narcissa.

"Professor Snape, please tell me. Did you maybe love my mother a little? Maybe because she was pretty?"

"She was indeed pretty," he said after another moment's pause. "When I first met Bellatrix, she was perhaps twenty-seven years old, her eyes were like yours, though not as dark, and she wore her hair in wild curls. She was... shapely... and dressed well. Men and women alike noticed her and would comment on her beauty. The years in Azkaban were damaging. Ruined her teeth, left her much too thin, but she retained her... She was still... I..." He sipped the wine and wished it was whiskey. "I did not love her, Delphini. I will not pretend to have loved her. Nor do I imagine I ever could have loved her. But yes, she was pretty."

"But if you and her had a baby..."

"You and she," corrected Narcissa.

"If you and she had a baby, you must have..."

"I did not love her," he said again. "And she did not love me. We did not even like each other. Our relationship was one of mutual loathing. I realize your aunt has told you otherwise, but in truth a couple does not need to be in love to create a baby. A baby is made..."

"I know where babies come from," she interjected, tossing her hair as if challenging him to argue that she didn't. "I know how they're made."

"As do I," he said dryly. "Fortunately for you."

"Not sure how fortunate it was for me," she said, redirecting her glare from his face to that of her aunt, who shifted uncomfortably in the rocker. So Severus Snape had indeed hated her mother, just as Uncle Lucius said. Which meant he was likely to hate her too, also just as Uncle Lucius said. Delphini crossed her arms over her chest and fought the urge to scream... or cry... or break something. This was almost too much to bear. In a strong, clear voice that belied her delicate emotional state, she added, "Sometimes I wish I'd never been born."

-0-0-0-

Hermione left Helena and Henry on the swings and, with Hero in her arms, pulled Lucius toward the playground fence so they could talk without being overheard, but still allowing herself a good view of her children.

"What are you playing at, tracking us down here?" she hissed, bouncing the little girl on her hip. "You are not welcome in our neighborhood or in our lives."

"I understand that you abhor me, Ms. Granger," said Lucius smoothly, brushing back a strand of his long hair that had escaped his low ponytail. He smiled pleasantly at the girl, who lit up at the sight of steel grey eyes that mirrored his own, having completely forgotten how scared she'd been when they last met. "But like it or not, this precious tyke is mine, and..."

"She most certainly is not!"

"She is, and though I understand how difficult that must be for you to accept, I have been thinking of little else since I learned of her existence. If you will not allow me a hand in raising her, at least let me make payments to you–"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and wished they weren't surrounded by Muggle families, as she'd like nothing more than the draw her wand on him. She hissed, "I am not a whore and therefore have no use for your money, Malfoy."

"For her, Ms. Granger. Payments to you for her. I owe you as much. I owe her as much. No child of mine shall grow up in poverty..."

"We are doing fine financially, thanks. You may return home with a clear conscience. Feel free to never return. Ever. For any reason." She said this with the utmost disdain. 'If looks could kill,' he thought, as he realized wooing her might be more difficult than he'd even imagined (and he'd imagined it would be far from easy).

"Please," he said, trying to muster up some semblance of humility and remorse. "I cannot undo the past and I do not know whether I can ever sufficiently bring you to understand how deeply sorry I am for my actions, but knowing that our mistake..." (Her eyes flashed at the word 'our') "Excuse me, I meant that I am deeply sorry for my actions, but knowing that my mistake resulted in this lovely, innocent girl has kept me up with worry every night since. I do not wish to find myself in Severus' situation a decade from now, with a daughter about to leave for Hogwarts, hell-bent on meeting her father first, wondering why his identity has been kept a secret all this time. It has been very painful for my dear niece, and I wish to spare my daughter such emotional hardship."

"She's doing just fine emotionally," insisted Hermione, though a tiny flicker of concern betrayed her confidence in this. What if Hero did ask about him someday? What if she grew up to wish her mother hadn't kept them apart? No. No, she wouldn't do that, because unlike Delphini she would grow up in a happy, healthy home, wanting for nothing. Severus and his daughter could mutually benefit from developing a relationship, however late in her childhood it happened to be, whereas nothing could be gained from allowing Hero to grow up with any sort of connection to this vile, loathsome, Muggle-hating man who surely must have a hidden agenda, for she couldn't imagine he'd ever give something for nothing. Besides, she could always tell the girl she shared the same father as her siblings. No one would be any the wiser, especially now that all three children shared the name Granger. "My daughter is doing just fine emotionally and financially."

"Is that so?" he asked, his voice silky. "She's never had to go without?"

"No."

"No? She has enough food? Nappies? Toys? Books? Clothing?" He looked her up and down. She was wearing an egg-yolk yellow romper that had been Helena's, but it was still in good condition, albeit a bit faded. "You will be able to sufficiently educate her, to ensure she can afford textbooks, a cauldron, private tutors or a private school until she reaches Hogwarts age? If you're not going the route of private tutelage, where do you intend to send her? Are you sending your other children to school yet? As a Muggle-born you may not realize it, but generally our kind have eschewed public schooling for our little ones, as therein lies too much danger that their accidental, uncontrollable magic will get their secret status discovered by concerned, confused educators... or worse."

Hermione stared at Henry and Helena on the swings. Her daughter was pushing her son, who was giggling and shrieking "Higha! Higha! Again!" Such a good girl Helena was. She should be in school, should be starting this year... but Hermione figured she would have to educate the children at home, as she was already aware of how dangerous non-magic schooling could be for young witches and wizards who'd grown up knowing why they could do things other children could not (unlike children like her, who didn't truly discover their talents until a Hogwarts representative clued them in). Proper schooling, be it private tutors or one of the very few small primary academic institutions for magical folks, was among the things Hermione simply could not afford, even as she was working for Severus.

(Severus, who could end up being the children's permanent father figure... or could just as easily wind up leaving her and breaking all of their hearts. But she couldn't think on that now.)

"I'm not asking to legally claim her or to give her my name, nor am I asking for visitation or to be accepted as part of your family," said Lucius. "Of course, I would love to have any one of those privileges someday, but for now I'm merely begging you to permit me to contribute to the child's care and welfare financially, to assuage my own guilt, so I can sleep knowing she is taken care of. This request is selfish, I realize, but please understand, Ms. Granger, I am not the monster you've made me out to be in your head. I am but a man – a deeply flawed man – and though I have done a great many things of which I am not proud and a great many others of which you would not approve, I am not so cold that I can turn the other cheek as my child goes without healthy food, proper clothing, a suitable education, toys, books, or other necessities. Thus all I am asking – and again, I am doing so selfishly, in an attempt to atone for my own misdeeds and soothe my soul – is to be permitted to ensure she will never want for anything."

"I... she's fine," said Hermione. She opened her mouth to add more, but he cut her off.

"Think it over, won't you? I implore you not to let pride or personal contempt for me color your views. I shall owl you in a week's time to inquire as to whether you've come to a decision."

"That won't be necessary," she said. She nearly added, "So bugger off."

He smiled in a placating way, tugged one of Hero's short, white-blonde pigtails, and backed up several paces. "Such a lovely girl. She looks so much like Draco did at this age, and so much like my grandson, Scorpius. Were you aware that I have a grandson? Born March of last year. They're nearly the same age."

"I..." It occurred to Hermione that the two would be starting Hogwarts together in a decade. Would they still resemble each other then? Would she have to tell Hero the truth lest the girl figure it out herself on the first day of school? "Her hair will likely darken as she ages. My son's has."

"It is possible," purred Lucius. "Though Draco's hasn't, nor has mine. In any case, I shall owl you in one week, Ms. Granger. Perhaps you will not change your mind – and if that's the case, I promise to respect your wishes. But if you'd consent to allowing me to take responsibility, to do the right thing... Well, perhaps Severus' experiences with Delphini today will persuade you. The girl has been so very excited – and nervous – about meeting her father for the first time. A pity she had to wait so long."

Before Hermione could respond to this, Lucius Malfoy stepped behind a tall tree, glanced around to ensure no Muggles were within sight, and apparated away with a loud crack, much to Hero's delight, as this sudden disappearing act never ceased to amuse her.

-0-0-0-

Upon his return to the grounds of Malfoy Manor, he smiled. Though it could have gone better, it also could have gone worse. He'd gotten to her when he'd mentioned education, as he'd suspected he would. If only she would consent to receiving child support, he could push for visitation later... and, in spending quality time with his daughter, perhaps manage to appeal to her mother. He shooed away the three albino peacocks crowding around him, hoping for treats, and hurried toward the Manor. He had to carefully consider the wording of his letter. He could afford no mistakes.

-0-0-0-

"Helena, Henry!" Hermione strode quickly over to her children, wanting nothing else but to gather their picnic things and return home, where she could feel safe again. "Time to go!"

-0-0-0-

After Delphini's uncomfortable confession that she sometimes wished she'd never been born, the trio moved through the book-lined hidden door into the kitchen, where Severus offered them some of the sticky toffee pudding he'd made earlier. Delphini told him she hated sticky toffee pudding and wouldn't eat even one bite, but Narcissa, rolling her eyes, pointed out that this wasn't true at all and asked him to give her some. Once it was in front of her, she couldn't help trying a bite... and then a second bite... and a third... before telling him, "I'm only eating this to be polite so you won't think my aunt raised me with bad manners."

She then peppered him with less sensitive questions on a variety of topics, everything from 'Where did you grow up' ('In this very house,' he'd answered) to 'Why did the Sorting Hat put you in Slytherin?' ('Because I rather thought I'd prefer it over Ravenclaw,' he'd answered) to 'Have you ever been married?' ('No,' he'd answered, but he surprised even himself by adding, 'Though I might like to be, someday').

Upon finishing what she'd been served, Delphini asked for seconds of the dessert, which made Severus smile, though he tried to hide it.

"Do you have any further questions for me at this time?" he asked as he waved his wand in the direction of the coffeepot, making it pour the hot liquid within into mugs for himself and Narcissa (Delphini was drinking butterbeer). "Or shall I start seeking information from you?"

"What do you want to know about me?" she asked suspiciously, her mouth full. She was leaning her chin on her palm with her elbow on the table.

"Eat properly," snapped Narcissa, slapping her on the knee under the table. Quickly as if she'd been Imperiused, Delphini sat up straight, folded her hands atop the napkin in her lap, and closed her mouth as she continued to chew.

"I would like to know everything about you," said Severus. "But let's start with the basics. Your birthday is...?"

She swallowed and answered, "Valentine's Day, 1997. I'm precisely eleven years and six months and two weeks old."

"And your full name is...?"

She gaped at him. "You don't know my full name?"

"I assume your surname is Black."

"It is."

"Have you a middle name?"

"I do. It's Druella. That was my grandmother's name. Or maybe great-grandmother. I don't remember."

"Grandmother," said Narcissa. "My mother. I chose your middle name. Your mother wanted to call you Delphini Riddle Black and I though Riddle was a stupid name for a baby. I didn't know, at the time, why she'd chosen it."

"It was the Dark Lord's name, before he became You-Know-Who," said Delphini, puffing up a bit. "Few people know that, even now, but my mother did, because he told her. He told her things he didn't tell others, things he probably didn't even tell you, Professor Snape. Things he didn't tell my uncle Lucius or Rodolphus Lestrange. He told her everything. And when she died, when she was murdered, he screamed! Hers was the only death that upset him. She was the only Death Eater he saved from the Department of Mysteries. He even called her by her nickname, Bella, because they were so close. It said as much in the Daily Prophet!"

"Druella is, indeed, a better middle name for a baby," said Severus, silently thanking Narcissa for the fact that his progeny did not bear the surname of Lord Voldemort nestled between her first and last. "But I'm afraid the Daily Prophet has given you a false picture of the reality of the situations you describe, and though it appears you derive comfort from that, it is not wise to labor under such delusions."

Delphini frowned, bit her lip briefly, then began to recite the mantra still whispered by those in her aunt and uncle's social circle: "The Dark Lord was the greatest, most talented, and most revered wizard ever to..."

"Make no mistake, Delphini Druella Black," said Severus, breaking out his no-nonsense teacher tone for the first time all conversation, "The Dark Lord was nothing more or less than a madman and a murderer and he molded your malleable mother into the same. He was a pureblood supremacist who tortured indiscriminately and cared not for the welfare of others, not even, painful as it may be to accept, Bellatrix. He hurt her in ways many of his followers would be reluctant to do to even to Muggles, though I'll spare you the details on account of your young age. He was not revered, he was feared, which is not the same. He was feared even by those who fully believed in and supported his methods and intentions, your uncle Lucius included. The Dark Lord Voldemort was no hero, he did not love your mother, and his only interest in you, had he survived and you grown up under his watch, would have extended just as far as he thought you could be used to his advantage. He was incapable of love. He knew only of ambition, power, and pain. When your mother died, he was furious to lose his best lieutenant, but he did not take even a moment to mourn her on a personal level."

"No!" Delphini jumped up, knocking her chair to the floor. "You're wrong! What do you know? You weren't there!"

"I was," said Narcissa calmly. "The Dark Lord and Bellatrix lived with me, from her Azkaban breakout until the Final Battle, as did you. He didn't love her, Delphini. And... and I'm truly sorry for letting you believe otherwise." She waved her wand and the chair righted itself. Delphini collapsed onto it. They were all quiet for several minutes, each lost in his or her own thoughts, until Delphini spoke again, her voice small.

"But if he was so awful, why did my mother love him?" She glanced from Narcissa to Severus and back again. "She was smart. She was so smart she left Hogwarts early, because she didn't need school after fourth year, and she was pretty, and she was talented and powerful and his most faithful and most loyal..."

"You mother did not leave school because she no longer needed it."

"Severus," said Narcissa pleadingly. "Please, don't." She did not want her niece to know this part, not at age eleven, perhaps not ever. He ignored her.

"Your mother left Hogwarts because the Dark Lord took her away. Though she was technically willing, she was also a child, thus the fact is, he kidnapped her. She was not much older than you are now, and while she was hidden away with him he taught her to perform dark magic, he made her his lover when she was far too young to consent to such, he taught her to torture and kill, and he likely encouraged her to suppress the guilt that should have overwhelmed her soul as a result of having committed such acts. He used her and brainwashed her and by the time she reached adulthood she was completely and unquestionably devoted to him. He was a great wizard, yes, but not a good man."

"But... but... but that can't be," stammered Delphini. "My mother couldn't be brainwashed. My mother was brilliant! She was so brilliant she didn't need school after fourth year, she left because..."

"She left because he took her away," insisted Severus. "He met her when she was thirteen and took her away from Hogwarts midway through fourth year without her parents' consent, and from then only taught her what he saw fit for her to learn. He treated her both like his ward and like his mistress but never like his equal. He used her youth, her desire for attention and glory, and what was left of her innocence to manipulate her into the servant he desired, and she intended to raise you to be just as devoted to him. That is why, when you were a baby, I asked her..." He broke off, remembering the implication of the question he'd asked Bellatrix, and suddenly unwilling to continue, as he felt 'I asked her whether he'd end up shagging you too' would not be an appropriate statement. Narcissa looked at him pointedly, and thanks to a combination of common sense and Legilimency, he understood her expression to mean 'This is precisely why I didn't tell her the truth in the first place, you motherfucking git.'

"What did you ask her?"

"I asked her... I asked her if she intended to let him abuse you as he had her."

"What did she say?" Delphini's eyes were watering again. She sniffled and he felt an unfamiliar tug in his chest, like he wanted to hold her, as he had on the couch. This must be how it feels to be a parent, he thought. Hermione had told him that parents hurt when their children hurt and he hadn't quite understood, but here, now, despite only having known his daughter an hour, he couldn't deny that it pained him to see her cry, even though she certainly wasn't the first eleven-year-old to shell out tears in his presence.

Narcissa was seated across from him, ignoring her coffee, her head in her hands. Though the girl wasn't biologically hers, it also caused her considerable pain to see Delphini hurting, more, perhaps, than Severus could currently fathom.

"She swore she'd never let him touch you," said Severus finally. "She wouldn't let him hurt you. Him, or anyone else. She was adamant about that, and I believed her. She wouldn't have let any harm come to you."

"Because she loved me?"

"She loved you," he confirmed.

"What about you?" Delphini asked defiantly, glaring at him as if fat tears weren't making their way down her cheeks as she spoke. "Do you hate me as you hated her? You're my bloody father. Do you think you could ever manage to set aside your undeserved hatred for her to... to... to..." She couldn't finish the sentence. What if she asked him to love her and he said no? Rather than complete the thought, she glowered, feeling pathetic and weak and furious and confused and broken.

She loathed herself for this, loathed how badly she needed the love of her parents, loathed the fact that she barely knew this man and yet wanted to throw herself at him and ask for a hug and beg him to let her call him Father, or maybe even Dad. She was, in a teensiest sense, glad her mother had died, for she could only imagine how disappointed the woman would be to have such a weak, pathetic, love-starved daughter.

"You want to know if I can set aside my hatred for your mother and love you?"

She pressed her palms to her eyes to stop the tears and refused to confirm this. He answered anyway.

"I believe I can." He stirred milk into his second cup of coffee. "That is, if you'll let me."