Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all public characters, and the world of Harry Potter. There is no intention to violate copyright.
Changes
Friday, December 17, 1999
The muttonhead had no business taking fifth year. Why would McGonagall pass him? Large ink blots smeared the parchment, and faded lines scrawled across other areas. Did he expect me to read the essay at a certain angle? Two quick strokes of the quill, and he received a 'T.' Illegible. It would do you well to learn proper penmanship. Perhaps, you should ask Professor Hagrid for... What was I thinking? The Gryffindor head of house had worse abilities with the quill than his students.
Large red lines went through the comment, and I grabbed the next essay. It would take all weekend to grade these. A solid knock echoed through my study, and I glanced at the connecting door. "Do come in, Sir. I welcome your intrusion."
"I'm sure you do." Potter said, and smirked at my annoyed expression. He watched while I finished the parchment before me, and I graded it with a 'P.' Miss Borden, you have shown an exceptional improvement, for a Gryffindor. Perhaps, you will strive to pass this course.
The essay received a scowl, and I slapped it on the proper pile. "Do you intend to lollygag, Sir? Why do I have the pleasure of your visit?" The bond's tingling alerted me of my rudeness, and I realised I needed to calm myself. Where did the dunderheads get their inane ideas, and why would they write them on parchment? Did they think I wished to read monotonous essays filled with fanciful illusions?
Potter gazed at the red ink splashed across Miss Borden's report, and he reached for the parchment. Would he check my work? He read the remarks, and returned it to the pile. "Was that comment necessary?"
The Master received a snarl, and I sneered. "Do you intend to interfere?"
The youth retrieved the pile of marked essays, and brought them to the sofa. "Do I need to check your work?"
Anger mixed with apprehension, and I glared at the prat. "That much is... obvious. Your extensive teaching experience entitles you to assess my performance. What would I ever do without your brilliance to guide me?"
Potter scanned the illegible parchment, and read my comments. "Don't you think that was a little harsh?" No! Did he believe me to write lies? A snort answered him, and I reached for another unmarked essay. "Dumbledore accepted your attitude, because he wanted children to succeed in the face of adversary. He allowed your unfair treatment. I never understood his reasoning, but I won't interfere with your grading."
That wasn't my impression of Dumbledore. Students always blamed the professors for their failure. Granger often received the highest marks, but it never mattered to Potter. "Indeed. Do you plan to prattle at me, or will you discuss the reason for your visit?"
The youth chuckled, and returned the parchments. "Grading papers makes you crankier than normal." My gaze narrowed on the arrogant prat, and my patience waned. Did he come for a visit? "Mr. Weasley wants to meet with us and Ron. We need to discuss our expectations over Christmas, and they will floo here tonight. Will you join us at eight in the formal sitting room, or do you want me to go with you?"
"Do I have a third choice?" Potter shook his head in answer. Grading illegible essays sounded more appealing, and I wondered if Arthur's presence would make the git more tolerable. Could I handle that meeting without using a calming drought? "I will arrive on my own, Sir." He ordered my attendance, and I had no wish to look like a recalcitrant child. Ronald Weasley held that role.
The youth smiled at me, and walked towards his office. He paused with a hand on the door, and glanced over his shoulder. "I almost forgot. Gedion and McGonagall arrived twenty minutes ago, and he wanted to show her around the Manor. I gave them permission to enter every room, so you should hide what you don't want them to notice." Potter's gaze fell to the pile of graded essays, and I understood his meaning without needing to hear the words. "McGonagall never liked how you treated her lions."
The parchments received a grimace, and I moved them to my drawer. We had heated arguments over my assessment of Gryffindor students, but now she had me at a distinct disadvantage. "Sir, did you talk to Minerva about parental authority?"
Potter turned away from the door, and stared at me with arms crossed over his chest. "Yes, I mentioned it." Why would he make me wait? He received an impatient gaze. "Severus, do you need to ask?"
My shoulders slumped forward, and I leaned against the desk with my elbows. "Do I want to know the answer?"
The youth shook his head, and I stuffed everything into my desk. It would have to wait-I needed to calm myself before tonight's meeting. "She always treated you like a son, and I dreaded my weekly appointments during the first months of your enslavement. She made me answer for every action, and I never doubted her role as your mother." They never told me of those meetings.
He received a smirk while I imagined their sessions. The woman became ferocious when she protected her lions, and she would do the same for me. I didn't need her cosseting, as if I were a defenceless child. It annoyed me to think she believed otherwise, at least in the beginning.
Voices travelled down the hall, and I rose from my desk. "Sir, I will retire to the library." Solitary reading would calm me, and I enjoyed long hours with my books. He nodded in response, and we left the study. I met the new couple on the stairs, and Gedion glanced from me to McGonagall. "Severus, do you mind me showing Minerva your bedroom suite?"
McGonagall tried to hide her nervousness, and I realised the tour would help. She earned the privilege; their marriage protected Gedion and me. Would they have bothered if it wasn't an issue? "No, you may go ahead. Mr. Potter's suite is through my study. The family rooms are in this wing, and the guest quarters are in the other. Have you selected a suite?"
Minerva glanced at Gedion, and the man shook his head. "Rosmerta wanted me to move into this wing, but I didn't need the extra space."
McGonagall straightened her robes, and noticed the small sitting area beyond the stairs. "Does that fireplace connect to the public network?"
Minerva's interest intrigued me, and I wondered at her thoughts. "We can make calls from any fireplace, but Mr. Potter prefers people flooing through the one in the main sitting room. You will have access from your private suite, but he doesn't want us using them unless needed."
Gedion glanced down the hall, and back to me. "Minerva will need more space than what I have in my room. What suites are available?"
Rosmerta would appreciate his moving into the family area, and I wondered why he refused. Perhaps, it had to do with the wedding proposals, and his status as a ward. "Select any unoccupied suite you want, other than the nursery." McGonagall smirked at my joke, and Gedion looked at me with a hopeful expression. "Choose from those on the second or third floor, and pick the biggest one you can find. Grandparents need their privacy."
Gedion's smile widened, and he grasped my hand with a firm shake. "Congratulations, Severus, you cannot imagine how happy this makes me."
The healer showed more enthusiasm than I expected, and I tilted my head in a respectful gesture. "Indeed, if you have questions, you can find me in the library." McGonagall gazed at me with an odd smile. They seemed overjoyed with the promised suite, and I left to give them privacy. Why did Gedion congratulate me?
A Meeting with the Weasleys
The others gathered before the hour, and I arrived at the scheduled time. Arthur, Potter and I exchanged customary greetings, but the redheaded git chose to ignore my entrance. Potter transfigured the furniture into similar winged backed chairs, and he faced them in a circle. "Please take a seat." The Master sat across from Arthur, and I from the dunderhead in perfect duelling formation. Had they considered that? "I appreciate everyone agreeing to meet, and I hope it will help reduce the tension at Christmas."
A disgruntled snort came from the redheaded git, but I managed to suppress a similar response. What would I gain with a poor attitude? It would tell everyone that Potter forced me here against my will. Arms folded across my chest, and I scrutinised the intolerable youth. He narrowed his eyes in challenge, but he lacked the needed intimidation to dominate the situation. I never had that problem. The git averted his gaze, and squirmed under the intensity of mine. Arthur glanced between us, and placed a hand on his son's knee. "This will not help our situation. We need to work through your animosity."
The muttonhead snapped his head to face Arthur, and pointed an accusing finger at me. "You tell him that! He starts everything!" My eyes rolled in response. Did the ignoramus assume Arthur spoke only to him? "He doesn't know the meaning of civility! He always antagonises me, and he attempts to bully me like he did in school."
My lips twitched in an upwards direction, but my emotionless mask soon replaced that expression. The redheaded dunderhead was the only one to notice. He snarled at me, and received a scathing look from his father. Perhaps, I could find enjoyment from this horrid meeting.
My eyes met Potter's, and I realised the invasive link told him of my smugness. Blast! I needed to work at hiding my emotions from the Master. "Ron, we realise both of you are responsible for the conflict, and I remember Severus's intimidation tactics. We do not lay exclusive blame on you for these disputes."
My left leg crossed the right, and I folded my hands with the grace of an aristocrat. Malfoy's influence would help with this situation. "Indeed, my mere presence threatened the cowering drunk into assaulting me. Perhaps, you would have me respond to his accusations with flattery?"
The uncouth lout clenched his hands, and gritted his teeth while he glared. My words hit their desired target, but I couldn't think upon that. I needed to focus on the unjust accusation, so the link would relay the proper emotion. Arthur sighed at my statement, and leaned forward while his elbows dug into the chair's padded arm. "Severus, you target my son's insecurity with biting quips, and he responds in anger."
They should have raised him better. How could he fault me for the contemptible behaviour? "Indeed, calling attention to the child's failings will damage his selfworth. Obviously, I am responsible for his outrageous conduct."
Arthur pressed both thumbs under his chin, and leaned against his hand in assessment. The dunderhead retorted in anger. "Why do you always play with our emotions? You can't appreciate them, because you have none of your own! Does it make you feel powerful to terrorise first year students?" I continued to gaze at the git through my emotionless mask, and his accusations received no response. That annoyed him, but it delighted me.
Potter stared at me until I met his gaze, and I tried to project my irritation through the link. "Ron, Severus has several strong emotions, but he has mastery over them. He uses his abilities to hide them from others. " My gaze narrowed on Potter, and I glowered at his treachery. The redheaded git stared at me with a puzzled expression, as if he doubted his friend's words. "Our bond exposes his emotions, and it gives me a better understanding of his vulnerabilities." I had none.
The elder Weasley tried to peer through my mask while he studied me with his eyes. His voice sounded soft when he spoke. "I never had any doubt. Severus, you intend to antagonise Ronald with your statements. Why is that?" His question received a snort from me, and I rolled my eyes at the stupidity.
Potter turned to look at me, and bit his bottom lip. He once claimed that I used anger to guarantee my isolation. It forced people to hate me, and I sheltered myself from the pain caused by rejection. He had no right to discuss those unsubstantiated theories, and I suspected that was his intention. Was that why he stared at me?
The youth sighed, and slumped his shoulders before answering the elder Weasley. "Severus prides in his emotional mastery, and he disdains weaknesses in others. By exposing them, he helps you to learn better control. He takes delight in testing his students, but their failure disgusts him." Was I that obvious?
The Dunderhead scoffed at the suggestion, but his father looked content with the explanation. It didn't surprise the elder Weasley. The redheaded youth wrinkled his nose, and pointed at me. "Harry, you can't believe that! The evil git takes pleasure in terrorising his students!"
The obnoxious dunderhead annoyed me, and I spoke in a bored monotone. "The obstinate ones take more patience."
The muttonhead turned to his friend with an expectant expression, as did his father. Did the elder agree with the brat? Arthur inhaled, and I knew he wished to speak. "I understand, but I cannot condone how you talk to my children." My family head nodded in agreement.
They wouldn't notice my frustration, but the link told Potter. My glare hardened on the Master, and I waited for his condemnation. "The bond forces your compliance when I command you, but I don't want that. You need the freedom to disobey me, if that is your wish. The bond's indiscriminate control scares me, and I want to avoid that in the future." It sounded reasonable, and I nodded in understanding. How did he plan to word his next command? "You antagonise him with your degrading quips, and Ron insults you with his unjust accusations. I want this to stop."
The elder Weasley leaned forward in his chair, and received a nod from Potter. "Harry came to see me about this issue, and we discussed possible solutions." My eyes closed, and I focused on my occlumency. Did the Master intend to humiliate me? Arthur's gaze fell on the redheaded youth, and he waited until he held the boy's attention. "Tell Harry if Professor Snape offends you, and he will..." It made the elder Weasley uncomfortable to speak of punishment. No wonder he raised a family of hellions. "Harry will deal with the situation."
Arthur motioned to Potter, and the youth resumed. "Severus, you must tell me when Ron verbally or physically assaults you. His accusations are untruthful, and they cause you to retaliate in anger. The situation grows, and it forces my involvement. Allow me to deal with Ron, and I will decide if we need to involve Mr. Weasley." The Dunderhead always started the confrontations, but I ended them. How could he blame me for defending myself?
The arrogant Master earned my reproachful gaze, and I wondered about his sincerity. "You want us to tattle, do you, like insufferable children on a playground? Why would we bother? Our way of handling the situation provides greater satisfaction."
The younger Weasley twisted his lips in disgust. "Harry, I can't believe this. I agree with Snape. You expect us to snitch; is that your solution?"
Arthur rose from the chair, and walked behind Potter's. "Yes we do. Harry didn't want to activate the bond, so I agreed to discuss this part. We expect civil behaviour, and failure will result in punishment." The git's eyes widened at his father's pronouncement, and he lowered his head. His lack of emotional control caused his cheeks to redden, but I didn't have that issue.
Occlumency shields kept my emotionless mask, and only Potter would know of my mortification. Our attention returned to the elder Weasley, and he continued the explanation. "We like the idea of using monitoring charms that activate when you are together, but we consider that invasive. We will cast them if needed."
Arthur stared at me, and I gazed at him with cold indifference. "Professor Snape, I have no authority or power over you. We are two men on equal standing. Harry will oversee everything, and I will have a passive role." The man gazed into my eyes while I thought on his words, and he tried another approach. "Harry didn't want to trigger your bond with that speech, so I gave it instead."
Arthur glanced at the Master, and the youth elaborated. "Mr. Weasley holds no power over House Prince." Potter would know true rage if he gave him authority, and I didn't believe the boy that stupid. Although, I had doubts. "We need him here for Ron, but he won't judge your actions. It's not his place." That didn't stop him from witnessing my Master's condemnation. The others stayed quiet, and Potter rose from his chair.
He sat on the arm of mine, and made me uncomfortable with his proximity. "Severus, commanding your obedience causes vulnerabilities, and I'm trying to avoid that." At least he understood. "You refuse to ask for help, and that forces me to snitch. The link will let me know if Ron causes stress." The git did that with his presence. How would Potter differentiate?
The dunderhead rubbed his palms against the legs of his jeans, and glanced at Potter. "Harry, will you remove my banishment?"
No! Don't do it Potter! The Master smirked at me, and I wondered what emotion the link communicated. What did it tell him? "Ron, you will arrive at Prince Manor on the twenty-fourth, and leave on the twenty-seventh. Severus and I will decide if we can lift your banishment from our home. It affects him, so I want his involvement." Weasley will never return. "I may remove Hogwarts and the tavern, but that depends on what happens over Christmas."
The link told Potter of my smugness, and he gave my arm a playful nudge. Could he blame me for having emotions? "Have we concluded our meeting, Sir?" The youth nodded, and I offered him a respectful tip of my head. The bond demanded submissive gestures, and it pleased me when Potter returned them. It felt less subservient. Rosmerta planned private celebrations for us to enjoy the holidays, and none of them included our guests. Perhaps, the dunderhead wouldn't ruin my Christmas.
Later that Evening...
The door to our suite swung open, and I glanced from the book to see my lovely wife. "Rosmerta, you're home early." I set the tome on the table, and rose from my chair. She wrapped her arms around me, and we embraced in greeting. "Did anything happen at the tavern?"
Rosmerta shook her head, and pulled from my embrace. "No, do you remember the conversation we had about spending more time together?" Indeed, how could I forget? My comment caused her to storm from the room in anger, and I never mentioned it again. "I decided you were right, and I promoted Chuck to tavern manager. The Three Broomsticks earns enough money for him to handle my evening duties, and I can work during the days."
She walked towards the full-length mirror, and gazed at her reflection. I approached from behind, and wrapped my arms around her waist. My chin rested on her shoulder, and I deepened my voice into a low growl. "It pleases me."
Rosmerta shivered at my tone, and spun in my arms. She rewarded me with a kiss, before she pulled away. She turned to the side, and eyed herself in the mirror. "Severus, am I getting fat?"
"No." Why would she ask? "You are perfect, Rosmerta. I never met another woman more attractive than you." Most men would envy me, because I spoke the truth.
She pushed out her stomach, and flattened the material of her shirt. "Why did you tell dad that I was pregnant?"
"Uh, what?" My shocked gasp sounded less eloquent than I wished. "Why would he think that?"
Rosmerta laughed at my discomfort, and wrapped her arms around my neck. She brushed her lips against mine, and leaned closer with our foreheads touching. She gazed into my eyes and lowered her voice. I almost missed the words. "You didn't lie." What?
Her statement confused me, and then I realised what she said. My eyes widened, and a smile stretched across my face. The tension caused pain in my cheeks, but I didn't care. My arms tightened around Rosmerta, and then I thought of the baby. Would that damage it? Arms loosened at once, and I held them both in my protective embrace. My heart pounded in my chest, and I felt utter delight. "When, how long have you known?"
Rosmerta laughed with me, and we did an odd dance in the privacy of our suite. I would never admit to doing that. "Madame Pomfrey told us this afternoon." Who took her to see Poppy, and why didn't she ask me? My eyebrows cocked, and she gushed the answer to my unasked questions. "Ginny and I are two months pregnant. We planned to tell you together, but I thought you knew when Dad congratulated me."
"I'm going to be a Father." The link filled me with Potter's delight, and him with mine. The euphoria overwhelmed me. My eyes watered from the depth of our emotions, and I couldn't stop hugging my wife. My arms wrapped around her upper back, and I held her in a protective embrace. "Did Poppy tell you our child's gender?"
"No, I didn't want to hear it without you." Rosmerta's eyes twinkled with her enthusiasm, and I made a mental list of the needed potions. I wouldn't trust anyone else to brew them. Soft laughter gained my attention, and she shook her head in amusement. "Do I want to know what you're thinking?"
My lips parted into a guilty smile. "Did Poppy say when to expect the birth?"
Rosmerta's beautiful grin held my gaze, and I almost missed her answer. "The middle of July."
Quick calculations ran through my mind, and I pulled away from my wife. Hands moved to her stomach. "You are two months pregnant." She nodded in answer, and I chastised myself for the stupid comment. She would have already known. "When will it show?" Did I sound disappointed?
Gentle fingers ran through my hair, and brushed it from my face. Rosmerta glanced at the mirror, and turned to the side. "Look closer, I'm sure it already does. Do you notice a difference?"
How should I answer that particular question? Rosmerta's recent mood swings warned of caution, and I thought over my options. Would she accuse me of thinking her fat if I said yes? What if she had gained weight, and I claimed to not notice the difference? Women needed better control of their hormones, and I wondered if I could create a potion. It would double our wealth. "You look beautiful, Rosmerta."
She gave me an innocent grin, and brushed her hand against my ear. "Severus, you always know the right answer. I love you, honey."
A deep rumble emanated from my throat, and a purr came from hers. "I love you, Rosmerta." How would Potter answer that question? Perhaps, we should compare notes and ask Gedion for advice. We have to keep our pregnant wives happy, because they needed our support. I led Rosmerta into the bedroom, and we celebrated our love in the privacy of our quarters. Fatherhood meant proper decorum-children learned it from their parents.