Christmas Day dawned beautifully. The sun was shining on the snow and
reflecting off the frozen edges of the lake, the trees and decorations
around Hogwarts were gleaming and sparkling and the light was reflecting
beautifully off of her husbands face, mused Hermione. She had awoken when
the elves had arrived to place their gifts at the foot of their bed and,
after a quick trip to the bathroom for her "morning puke," decided to
prepare a private breakfast in their small kitchen. No matter that she
couldn't prepare more than cereal from a rather Muggle-looking box and some
juice from their wizard's equivalent of a refrigerator - it was the thought
that counted.
She stood quietly in the doorway for a few moments, enjoying the relaxed and happy expression on Snape's face. It was an unusual expression for the older version of her husband, she knew. And she was feeling rather pleased with herself at being the cause of it. She set the tray down on the nightstand and sat on the bed next to him.
"Severus, wake up, it's morning. Happy Christmas," she whispered into his ear.
He stirred, looked at her in vague surprise, and stretched. Then he sat and instigated a lazy, lengthy kiss.
"Happy Christmas," he finally replied, smirking to note her breath was a bit shallow. "I think I would like to open my present now, Hermione."
With a grin, he yanked her back onto the bed. Hermione squealed as he pounced her. Quickly, kisses turned to caresses, caresses to urgent touching, and that touching into two bodies moving together, to bliss. Perfect, they both thought in unison.
Some time later, Snape sighed with contentment and reached for his breakfast as Hermione once again felt the need to visit what she was jokingly now calling "the porcelain god." He mused that it had been a very Muggle thing for her to say as he listened for the flush that meant she was done -- for the moment.
"Are you sure you don't need any help, love?" he called, around a mouthful of cereal.
"Positive. I'm starting to get the hang of my morning ritual," she said, exiting the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. "I can hold my hair back, puke and flush simultaneously now."
"I think that is more information than I really needed, Angel," said Snape, scowling.
"Love me, love our baby - love the details," she said. "Wait until you get to cut the cord and see the afterbirth. I've been doing some reading, I can let you see the pictures -"
"Hermione, I'm eating," he snapped. She grinned at the flash of the old potions master she used to love to hate. His sudden appearance only egged her on.
"They are even wizard's pictures, so they move, and you can see how the cord continues to pulsate after -"
Snape put his cereal bowl down with a thump, sat up and slipped a hand over Hermione's mouth. He caught her eyes with his trademark, icy, vile Professor Snape glare.
"As much as I am enjoying your pregnancy. As much as I am going to love every moment of the next few months and as much as I will treasure our child's birth," he began softly. "I do not believe that I need to hear all the - gory, details during my Christmas breakfast."
"I may have to reconsider my decision to let you move back in if you keep this up," he teased. "I had thought to ask the House Elves to take care of it tomorrow."
Hermione just giggled and returned to the bathroom to put away her toothbrush and rinse. Snape shook his head at her mischievous baiting. Things felt - normal, he mused. Everything felt right.
Snape put on his dressing gown, gathered up his empty juice glass and cereal bowl and headed into the kitchen area, magically cleaning them and then putting them away. He heard Hermione return to their bed and begin her breakfast.
"Shall we open our gifts now, or wait?" he called from the kitchen.
She looked through their bedroom door at him with the enthusiasm of a child. "Now!" she replied.
Laughing, the older wizard sat back on the bed and they began to open their gifts. His parents had sent him books on child rearing, early childhood education and early childhood magical testing in response to his lengthy letter about their new situation. 'I guess they are excited,' he mused.
Hagrid had knitted them both a gift, Snape wasn't sure, but he thought it was an infant stocking cap. A group gift from the professors he wasn't terribly close to came next, a framed picture someone had found of Hermione in her Head Girl robes and badge. He wasn't sure exactly what to think of that particular gift, whether it was a reminder of the crazy circle of time they had lived through - or whether they secretly thought him to be a pedophile or teenage skirt chaser. He shook his head and opened the gift from Hermione. It was a Muggle book on becoming a father packaged with a book about potions for children's illnesses. He smiled at Hermione and set them in a place of pride on his nightstand.
Finally, more silly, fuzzy pajamas from Albus and Minerva for Snape - gifts that earned a quirk of Hermione's eyebrow.
"I'll explain later," he said, grinning and shaking his head again, as she giggled while examining the blue PJs covered in clouds and another set with Muggle Spiderman characters covering it. "It's a long story."
Hermione had gifts of a pregnancy journal from her mother and father along with a gift certificate for a Muggle maternity clothing store. She received the usual candy from Ron and silver picture frame engraved with both the Slytherin and Gryffindor shields from Harry. Snape looked surprised at it, gingerly taking it in his hands as if he expected it to explode. Many more small presents from teachers and students, that called out "welcome home," soon also littered her side of the bed. She had opened the final one and began clearing up the wrappings when Snape tapped her on the arm.
"You missed one," he said. She turned and he handed her a small velvet box.
"But, I thought that last night -" she began. He shook his head and placed the box in her hand. She opened it to find a beautiful emerald and diamond choker and earrings, antique and most likely ridiculously expensive. She turned to Snape in shock.
He just shrugged and smiled. "What is the use of having wealth and a vault at Gringotts stuffed with old jewels from a line of wealthier ancestors, if you can't enjoy them?"
She smiled in return and hugged him tightly in thanks.
"Now," he said. "I think we need to clean up and attempt to make it to the Great Hall at some point today."
Hermione returned then to her wrapping paper mess with a near-ferocity and Snape quickly made himself scarce in the shower. He heard her humming as she entered the bathroom and began to rummage through what looked like a Muggle make-up bag. Suddenly, the world turned blindingly white and Snape felt himself falling into the shower door. It burst open and he collapsed on the cold, stone floor, writhing in pain.
Hermione quickly moved to assist her husband, who, as his vision began to clear, was hit with a startling realization. It was the Dark Mark burning - and burning with a force and a ripping pain that he hadn't felt since the night after the TriWizard tournament when he rejoined Voldemort's ranks. And he could feel the anger and punishing wrath pulsing in his arm once again - as he fought the urge to apparate as it commanded.
He looked up at her frantically to whisper things she needed to know, but he hadn't been ready to tell her. Now, he had no choice. He pulled himself to a sitting position just out of the still-running shower's mist and began to tell her about his second stint as a Death Eater, the one that had begun at the end of her fourth year.
He choked out how he had been violently punished the night of the tournament for his defection to Dumbledore's side and interference in Voldemort's schemes, before being allowed to have minimal involvement in the Death Eaters again. He had nearly died from the torture Voldemort had insisted he endure as an "assurance" of his renewed loyalty and that he would never betray him again. It had taken nearly a month in the Hospital Wing to recover completely - only stumbling to the Great Hall for the Leaving Feast and other "appearances" in front of the students, he explained, panting with the effort.
"This time," he stammered out softly, looking at Hermione with wild eyes. "This time I have more to lose and I also have so much more to be punished for. I'm going to die for my part in attempting to stop Voldemort. I am so sorry, Hermione. But he will get to me, and he will kill me. After everything, I am going to leave our daughter fatherless and you a widow."
"Severus," Hermione said, softly, tears streaming down her cheeks at her husbands pain - past and present. "It will be all right, I promise. We'll find a way to fix this."
Haunted eyes met her teary ones as he slowly shook his head.
"There is no 'fix' this time, Hermione. This time he's going to kill me."
Their gaze held madly as he clutched his forearm for several more painful and silent moments, before he mercifully passed out.
She stood quietly in the doorway for a few moments, enjoying the relaxed and happy expression on Snape's face. It was an unusual expression for the older version of her husband, she knew. And she was feeling rather pleased with herself at being the cause of it. She set the tray down on the nightstand and sat on the bed next to him.
"Severus, wake up, it's morning. Happy Christmas," she whispered into his ear.
He stirred, looked at her in vague surprise, and stretched. Then he sat and instigated a lazy, lengthy kiss.
"Happy Christmas," he finally replied, smirking to note her breath was a bit shallow. "I think I would like to open my present now, Hermione."
With a grin, he yanked her back onto the bed. Hermione squealed as he pounced her. Quickly, kisses turned to caresses, caresses to urgent touching, and that touching into two bodies moving together, to bliss. Perfect, they both thought in unison.
Some time later, Snape sighed with contentment and reached for his breakfast as Hermione once again felt the need to visit what she was jokingly now calling "the porcelain god." He mused that it had been a very Muggle thing for her to say as he listened for the flush that meant she was done -- for the moment.
"Are you sure you don't need any help, love?" he called, around a mouthful of cereal.
"Positive. I'm starting to get the hang of my morning ritual," she said, exiting the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. "I can hold my hair back, puke and flush simultaneously now."
"I think that is more information than I really needed, Angel," said Snape, scowling.
"Love me, love our baby - love the details," she said. "Wait until you get to cut the cord and see the afterbirth. I've been doing some reading, I can let you see the pictures -"
"Hermione, I'm eating," he snapped. She grinned at the flash of the old potions master she used to love to hate. His sudden appearance only egged her on.
"They are even wizard's pictures, so they move, and you can see how the cord continues to pulsate after -"
Snape put his cereal bowl down with a thump, sat up and slipped a hand over Hermione's mouth. He caught her eyes with his trademark, icy, vile Professor Snape glare.
"As much as I am enjoying your pregnancy. As much as I am going to love every moment of the next few months and as much as I will treasure our child's birth," he began softly. "I do not believe that I need to hear all the - gory, details during my Christmas breakfast."
"I may have to reconsider my decision to let you move back in if you keep this up," he teased. "I had thought to ask the House Elves to take care of it tomorrow."
Hermione just giggled and returned to the bathroom to put away her toothbrush and rinse. Snape shook his head at her mischievous baiting. Things felt - normal, he mused. Everything felt right.
Snape put on his dressing gown, gathered up his empty juice glass and cereal bowl and headed into the kitchen area, magically cleaning them and then putting them away. He heard Hermione return to their bed and begin her breakfast.
"Shall we open our gifts now, or wait?" he called from the kitchen.
She looked through their bedroom door at him with the enthusiasm of a child. "Now!" she replied.
Laughing, the older wizard sat back on the bed and they began to open their gifts. His parents had sent him books on child rearing, early childhood education and early childhood magical testing in response to his lengthy letter about their new situation. 'I guess they are excited,' he mused.
Hagrid had knitted them both a gift, Snape wasn't sure, but he thought it was an infant stocking cap. A group gift from the professors he wasn't terribly close to came next, a framed picture someone had found of Hermione in her Head Girl robes and badge. He wasn't sure exactly what to think of that particular gift, whether it was a reminder of the crazy circle of time they had lived through - or whether they secretly thought him to be a pedophile or teenage skirt chaser. He shook his head and opened the gift from Hermione. It was a Muggle book on becoming a father packaged with a book about potions for children's illnesses. He smiled at Hermione and set them in a place of pride on his nightstand.
Finally, more silly, fuzzy pajamas from Albus and Minerva for Snape - gifts that earned a quirk of Hermione's eyebrow.
"I'll explain later," he said, grinning and shaking his head again, as she giggled while examining the blue PJs covered in clouds and another set with Muggle Spiderman characters covering it. "It's a long story."
Hermione had gifts of a pregnancy journal from her mother and father along with a gift certificate for a Muggle maternity clothing store. She received the usual candy from Ron and silver picture frame engraved with both the Slytherin and Gryffindor shields from Harry. Snape looked surprised at it, gingerly taking it in his hands as if he expected it to explode. Many more small presents from teachers and students, that called out "welcome home," soon also littered her side of the bed. She had opened the final one and began clearing up the wrappings when Snape tapped her on the arm.
"You missed one," he said. She turned and he handed her a small velvet box.
"But, I thought that last night -" she began. He shook his head and placed the box in her hand. She opened it to find a beautiful emerald and diamond choker and earrings, antique and most likely ridiculously expensive. She turned to Snape in shock.
He just shrugged and smiled. "What is the use of having wealth and a vault at Gringotts stuffed with old jewels from a line of wealthier ancestors, if you can't enjoy them?"
She smiled in return and hugged him tightly in thanks.
"Now," he said. "I think we need to clean up and attempt to make it to the Great Hall at some point today."
Hermione returned then to her wrapping paper mess with a near-ferocity and Snape quickly made himself scarce in the shower. He heard her humming as she entered the bathroom and began to rummage through what looked like a Muggle make-up bag. Suddenly, the world turned blindingly white and Snape felt himself falling into the shower door. It burst open and he collapsed on the cold, stone floor, writhing in pain.
Hermione quickly moved to assist her husband, who, as his vision began to clear, was hit with a startling realization. It was the Dark Mark burning - and burning with a force and a ripping pain that he hadn't felt since the night after the TriWizard tournament when he rejoined Voldemort's ranks. And he could feel the anger and punishing wrath pulsing in his arm once again - as he fought the urge to apparate as it commanded.
He looked up at her frantically to whisper things she needed to know, but he hadn't been ready to tell her. Now, he had no choice. He pulled himself to a sitting position just out of the still-running shower's mist and began to tell her about his second stint as a Death Eater, the one that had begun at the end of her fourth year.
He choked out how he had been violently punished the night of the tournament for his defection to Dumbledore's side and interference in Voldemort's schemes, before being allowed to have minimal involvement in the Death Eaters again. He had nearly died from the torture Voldemort had insisted he endure as an "assurance" of his renewed loyalty and that he would never betray him again. It had taken nearly a month in the Hospital Wing to recover completely - only stumbling to the Great Hall for the Leaving Feast and other "appearances" in front of the students, he explained, panting with the effort.
"This time," he stammered out softly, looking at Hermione with wild eyes. "This time I have more to lose and I also have so much more to be punished for. I'm going to die for my part in attempting to stop Voldemort. I am so sorry, Hermione. But he will get to me, and he will kill me. After everything, I am going to leave our daughter fatherless and you a widow."
"Severus," Hermione said, softly, tears streaming down her cheeks at her husbands pain - past and present. "It will be all right, I promise. We'll find a way to fix this."
Haunted eyes met her teary ones as he slowly shook his head.
"There is no 'fix' this time, Hermione. This time he's going to kill me."
Their gaze held madly as he clutched his forearm for several more painful and silent moments, before he mercifully passed out.