DISCLAIMER:

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,

Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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Hermione and Mr Granger focused their gazes on the Headmaster just as he made it to the door. Feeling the weight of the stares the old wizard stopped. His shoulders sagging under his opulent crimson robes.

"Ah." He cleared his throat and faced them, smiling apologetically at the group. "I believe I have some explaining to do."

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Snape snorted loudly and sat back into a chair so swiftly it made the resting butterfly flutter up into the air.

Hermione looked as Snape nonplussed followed the butterfly's wobbly course as it floated toward her father and watched it divert over to Dumbledore, who raised his hands and allowed the insect to settle on his finger.

"Yes, it was Severus's money." The elderly wizard began. "I felt it necessary for subterfuge due to the hostility on both sides."

"Asinine." Snape retorted, dabbing the drying blood from his nose with the ruined handkerchief. "Totally idiotic!"

Dumbledore nodded slightly. "Perhaps…"

"I agree." Hermione spoke. "I have to admit that at first I did not embrace the idea of being pregnant, but I came to terms with it. It surprised me that you-" She glanced at Snape, then quickly away in response he rolled his eyes and Dumbledore looked as if he were sucking on a sweet. "Did not want anything to do with the children. Yet I accepted it. I would hope that we are mature enough to move on?"

This statement was met with resounding silence. The butterfly elegantly sat on the Headmaster's extended finger, opening and closing its bejeweled wings.

"Okay, " Hermione conceded, flicking back her hair. "Perhaps it would have taken some time for me to accept his money, but it would have been nice to know that my children's father was paying support."

"Yes." Snape agreed. "The least both of us could do."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose in astonishment and slowly descended as the butterfly set off again and floated up to the peak of his wizard's hat. The butterfly settled on the tip of Dumbledore's hat and slowly rotated about showing off its sparkling wings. The old man clasped his hands upon his chest, oblivious to the display. "I apologise for underestimating both of you, but I had my reasons."

A strange grinding sound filled the air and everyone looked at Mr. Granger who was gnashing his teeth, "Which we are waiting to hear!" The man finally demanded, his hands clenching into fists. "You assume too much Dumbledore! You take too many chances and justify them with emotional claptrap! My grandchildren had the right to know their father – no matter how despicable he is – was providing for them."

"There were reasons." Dumbledore gave a lopsided shrug. "Do you have a copy of the Daily Prophet from two days ago?" He asked Hermione.

"No." Hermione replied. "We read the Quibbler."

"Dear Merlin." Snape sniffed in disbelief. "That thing doesn't even have a crossword."

"There was an article in it about the spate of deaths from owl scratches in Bulgaria."

"And a lovely knitting pattern." Snape jeered. "Get to the point Albus."

The old wizard considered Snape. "Correct me if I am wrong Severus, but you are doing research on potions that address prion diseases?"

"What of it?" The man replied, crossing his legs, pulling down the ends of his shorts and rubbing his knobby knees. "It is common knowledge. There are research teams in the depths of Amazon, Congo, Siberia… Wolverhampton."

"Four years ago the Department of Mysteries sent me a note about a prophecy." He paused and puffed out his chest.  "One that is directly related to Ms. Granger and yourself. I had almost forgotten about it until I saw the article and made the connection. It is imperative that you go and hear the prophecy. It has something to do with you both and the future of magic."

"Oh no…" Hermione sighed.

"Not Trelawney again." Severus groaned and roughly pocketed the bloodied handkerchief. "That woman has been responsible for more misinterpretation and false hopes than a Muggle horoscope. They should close that department down for total stupidity!"

"Now, now Severus, she has a over a fifty percent accuracy."

Hermione and Snape shared an incredulous look, but it was Snape who muttered. "Codswollop!"

"Not this time Severus. It may interest you to know that it wasn't Sybil." Dumbledore lowered his head and voice.

"Well, who the blazes was it?"

"Would you believe -" The old man lifted his head and smiled. "Peeves?"

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tbc