"Has it ever crossed your brilliant mind that I don't want to do this anymore?" The words echoed in his mind as he lay in bed, remnants of another lifetime.

He'd been nothing but used and manipulated for years. For the Dark Lord's ends, for Dumbledore's spy work, for everything, by everyone. Everyone but her. Sure, she used him in the same way everyone uses everyone else - for help with Potions homework (she kindly returned the favor in Arithmancy, which he was still largely clueless about even after he'd barely passed his N.E.W.T.), for advice, for companionship. But that wasn't using in the same way. He always got something back, and she thanked him profusely, whether it be a "thank you" or an "I love you" or something similar.

As he lay there holding onto her, calmed by the steadiness of her breath, a wave of gratitude washed over him. She'd kept him sane and saved his life more times than she would ever know. She'd chosen to be with him and chosen to stay, even after all the pain he'd put her through. And now here she was, about to have his child.

It was still a terrifying thought, that he'd be responsible for such a tiny, helpless little life, but he'd read every book he could and talked it over to no end with her in the last few months, and he was starting to feel better about it. He was still nervous, despite all of the times Hazel told him he would be fine. He didn't think he ever wouldn't be nervous.

"Has it ever crossed your brilliant mind that I don't want to do this anymore?"

This, laying here in a warm bed with her, listening to the ocean outside, he could do this forever. The conversation with Dumbledore had been a lifetime ago, a lifetime full of pain and sadness and fear and anger. This lifetime, the one they were building together, was full of light and love and laughter. This, he could certainly do forever.

Minerva McGonagall had long since stopped checking the Book of Admittance until it was time to send letters to the new group of first-years. Most years she would check on it occasionally, smiling as she saw new names pop up from wizarding families she knew. Some of them she'd taught for generations. After the war, too many names had disappeared from the book. So she'd stopped checking, save for drafting the next round of Hogwarts letters every summer.

This year was different. She'd gotten to the letters a little early, and was flipping through the book when something caught her eye. A new name had appeared - by the looks of it just a few days previously. It was one she vaguely recognized. Eileen Minerva Snape. The Headmistress turned around in her chair, looking up at the portraits behind her. Snape's still hadn't moved - it wouldn't for many years - but Dumbledore smiled down at her. "A girl?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "I expect we'll be seeing her in eleven years or so."

"Not to put ideas in your head, Minerva, but I believe, with Voldemort gone, the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position has been broken," Dumbledore thought aloud, "and having a rotating cast of Aurors teaching the subject… Perhaps we could do with a new professor, a real professor, in eleven years or so. Give all of the old Aurors their chance to teach, and then find a more permanent solution…"

Minerva's response was cut off by an owl tapping at the window. With a wave of her wand, the window opened, the tawny owl coming to rest on Fawkes' old perch. The letter clutched in its beak confirmed everything.

Minerva,

So sorry we haven't written lately. The last few weeks have been especially hard on Hazel, but she's doing a lot better now that the baby is here. Her name is Eileen Minerva, after the two women who raised me.

We're home now, if you'd like to drop in sometime. We would all love to see you.

All the best,

Severus

Though he worried about it constantly, all of his fear seemed to disappear when Eileen was born. He hardly ever let her out of his sight, even when he was working. Naturally curious, he would have his hands full keeping her away from the potion ingredients, but he managed. Late at night, well after she and Hazel had fallen asleep, he would still find himself wondering if he was turning into his own father. Had he said anything too harshly that day? Had he missed something? But Hazel would reach out for him in her sleep, telling him that he needed to rest. Somehow she knew.

It was on one of these late nights when he heard the little girl crying, Sev waking up a couple of seconds before Hazel did. "Could you check on her?" Hazel yawned. She hadn't felt well all day.

"Of course." He gave her a quick kiss before lighting his wand and taking off down the hallway.

Hazel dozed off again, managing to fall back to sleep in a few minutes. But when she rolled over and found the other side of the bed was still empty, she reached for her wand and grabbed a dressing gown, assuming the worst. It was hard to forget, especially in the middle of the night, that they were no longer in danger. Death Eaters were no longer appearing in the dead of night and massacring entire households. There was nothing to worry about.

She came to a stop in the doorway of Eileen's room, immediately smiling at the sight. Sev sat in a rocking chair with his back to her, Eileen secured in the crook of his arm and a book in his other hand. The little girl clutched a stuffed wolf, one of the many toys Andromeda had sent her. The wolf was her favorite, though.

If the war had changed him, Eileen had made him a completely different person. Keeping a watchful eye on her distracted him from worrying about the Aurors who were still hunting down Death Eaters and all of the continued fighting about him in the press. As he held her, he forgot all about the Dark Mark on his arm, the last remnant of his past life. It still bothered him, but he'd become so much more than that. This was a completely new start.

"Wolfsbane Potion was invented in the mid-1980s," Sev was reading, pausing to comment, "You know, your Uncle Remus was a werewolf. He was one of the first people who tried it after Horace and I were decently sure of the recipe. I'm sure your mother thought he was mad, even though it was me making it. Anyway," he looked back to the book, "Hmm… Wolfsbane Potion was invented in the mid-1980s... ah here we are - thanks in part to the vast resources available to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and in part to the invaluable and painstaking research of Horace Slughorn and his protege Severus Snape - I wish you could understand any of this. You will one day…"

Smiling to herself, Hazel summoned her camera, silently taking a picture before they could move. "Hey," she whispered, coming over and putting a hand on her husband's shoulder. "Is she alright?"

"She's fine," he whispered back, trying not to wake the peacefully sleeping girl. "She's just not used to sleeping on her own yet. I figured if I grabbed a book and sat here reading she might go back to sleep. Looks like it worked."

"Sev?"

"Hmm?'

Hazel bent down to kiss him, saying, "You're a great dad."