Chapter Two

Even in sleep Severus remained acutely aware of his surroundings. After the things he had seen, done, and lost, the comfort of a deep, peaceful slumber was an elusive concept when in bed alone. The warm cocooning embrace that brought a sense of serenity and safety to his bed, allowing him to submit to such a vulnerable act, had been absent more often than not over the last seventeen years. A price he gladly paid and would pay again twice over without hesitation for what that single year had gifted him. A gift that would finally return to him, without expiration, in a matter of hours.

However, somewhere deep within his psyche the significance of the day must have registered and as such, allowed him to become oblivious to his surroundings. It was the only reason he could fathom as to why two stones of elf had just landed on his chest, catching him completely unaware as he grunted awake with his breath stolen from his lungs.

"Tippy," he groaned, his head rearing back into the pillow as her tennis ball sized eyes filled his vision, her forehead pressed to his. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"Master Sevy has sleeped too much. He is being important today. Up, up!" The elf squealed with childlike excitement.

Ignoring the dull look he gave her as he gestured to where she stood on him, his elf snapped her fingers summoning a half dozen jars of salves and potion vials. Nudging her off of him, Severus slowly sat up, his back creaking in protest. Rolling his shoulders to loosen their stiffness, the joints cracked audibly and without relief. The movement compounded itself in stripping away any sense of early morning satisfaction as it stretched the burn mangled skin upon his left shoulder blade taut and awoken the phantom itch.

Selecting the more gelatinous of the salves, he unscrewed the lid and scooped his fingers through the neon orange substance. As he reached over his shoulder and began to rub it into the long since healed skin, Tippy uncorked two of the vials and unceremoniously poured them down his throat leaving him sputtering as he choked on the gulp of air he had swallowed with them.

"Why I keep you is beyond me. You're an unhelpful menace."

Gasping at his words, Tippy yanked the duvet from his naked body making him shout as he snatched a pillow to cover himself with.

"Master should nots be mean to Tippy. Tippy a good elf."

"You're nosey, hyperactive, vindictive, overly opinionated, and have no concept of boundaries. And that's on a good day."

"Today is the bestest of days," she sang, making the pillow disappear with another snap of her fingers. "Now Tippy help. There is raining today and raining makes Master Sevy grouchy… er," she smirked, relishing in the abnormally long leash of what was considered acceptable behavior he indulged her and her mistress in providing.

"Fine, but I will do my hip, thank you," he relented, knowing a lost cause when he saw one.

Painfully stubborn was another quality his elf possessed that would have made her a bad fit in anyone else's home. However in his, her tenacious, free spoken attitude was a welcomed breath of fresh air. It was a reminder of the witch who had begrudgingly run his household and had given Tippy express orders in how to manage Severus in her absence.

"If you will please do my knee. It was exceptionally problematic last night on rounds," he further acquiesced.

Beaming at having a specific job to do, she got right to work massaging the arthritic cream into his twice shattered patella. At thirty-seven years old he could easily age another ten to fifteen years before catching up to the number of scars and chronic alignments that mapped the story of his life. His shoulder bore the evidence of things he hadn't understood at four years old but had been expected to pay the price of. His back was roped with the lashings of dark magic that had filleted him after making a choice on who lived and who died in battle - a decision that still had never been the cause for a sleepless night. The divets along the right ladder of his ribs told of the countless days he had spent being tortured under the wands of allies. There was of course the inky, writhing tattoo of the Dark Mark that had marred the inside of his alabaster forearm since his seventeenth birthday. Then there were the litter of silvery scars and burn discolorations that graced his hands and knuckles from the countless times his mind had wandered while preparing ingredients, causing the blade of his knife to slip or the palm of his hand to get too close to the lip of his heated or iced cauldron.

Most of those stories were gruesome. They spoke of the things no one thought of when talking about the cost of war. As few as they were, there were others - like the first time his arthritic knee had been so injured that the bone fragments had to be vanished and regrown - that told much more wonderful stories. Stories like how salvation had come for him even when he hadn't been in want of it.

Finished with the morning routine of creams, salves, and potions that kept his battered body glued together and functioning, Severus pulled the silken sheet back over himself and tucked his arm behind his head. With Tippy off to clean and check the things they had each tended to a dozen times that week already, he watched the shadows of the Black Lake's current dance along his ceiling while rotating his ring. For a long time he found peace in the still solitude of having no one around. It was a sound of triumph and safety. Now it only served as a reminder of his frequent loneliness. The absence of ringing bells of laughter; heated, intellectual disagreements; gasped sighs and vibrating moans; whispered hopes and dreams; and the lulling sound of a deep sleep escaping through pouty lips all collectively mocking him.

But no more. Soon, his tidy home within the castle would permanently be wrecked by a tornado of chaos, driving him madder and deeper in love with each new mess.

"Master Sevy is having meeting with Heady-Master Dumble-ee-door," Tippy called from the second bedroom, breaking his rumination of the last seventeen years.

Scrubbing his hands down his face at Albus's abysmal timing, he swiveled his thumb around the platinum band once more. With a motion not unlike wadding up a section of parchment, he hid the ring's visibility, and threw the sheets back to get out of bed, grumbling, "Of course I do," heading to shower despite his topical treatments having not had enough time to fully absorb before he could rinse them off. Something was better than nothing and after all his injuries, pain and discomfort were like old friends.

Being off for the next two days as well as the weekend, the problems of the students would pass to Remus and Horace who were filling in for his classes and head of house duties respectively. Sure the sharp discipline of his classroom would all but evaporate upon the sixth year Gryffindors seeing his yearly absence and spreading the news like fiendfyre. And yes, the dorms would most probably descend into an inferno of raging debauchery come Friday evening, destroying the common room, again, but he didn't care. He had a prior engagement seventeen years in the making commencing that afternoon and seeing his little angel again superseded all problems he would need to deal with come Monday morning.

As such, he dressed for her instead of donning his imposing armor of teaching robes. However, as he pulled his black jeans over his bare bum, his mouth twitched in the corner as he thought of how unnerved he would make the students if they were to see him dressed so casually. Adding a soft, black t-shirt that stuck to his back where his hair had dripped down, he slipped on a second, less cherished, ring to his right forefinger, followed by twining a braided leather bracelet - its importance second only to his wedding band and only just - rose quartz colored Morse Code beads around his left wrist. Snapping his watch into place on his right, he grabbed a suit jacket, also in black, and shrugged into it while stepping into a pair of low necked boots.

Checking the time and finding that even the most late of students should be skidding into their classrooms, he dropped two duffels inside the door of the second bedroom in his chambers, grabbing his elf's attention.

"I'm leaving, Tippy. When you've finished, will you catch and load the fat orange terror up before heading home? I'll be on my way after I speak with Albus."

"He is already eating salmons. Tippy just be needing to lock the basket."

Tapping the door frame he started to leave but turned back instead to ask, "Will you have time to pick up the macaroons or should I get those?"

"I is doing it, Master Sevy," she sassed, looking up at him as if she were insulted by the question.

Knowing he'd further incur the elf's ire with his statement but needing to verify, he said, "The Marie Antoinette, rose, and vanilla flavors."

"Tippy knows."

"Don't forget the strawberry and elderflower tea. Loose leaf, not bagged."

"I would never," she huffed indignantly, dropping the laundry to glare at him.

Still unable to stop himself in his need for things to be perfect for her, he continued on, "And your scones with the clotted cream and raspberry jam you make. She also likes the smoked salmon tea sandwiches and the ones with ham, apple, and Brie."

"Yes, Master Sevy. Tippy knows how Mistress like afternoon tea. Tippy is also remembering Mistress favorite tea set and her jasmine gardenia soaps and lotions and her stuffies and -"

"I get it. I'm sorry, Tippy," he interrupted, knowing he had gone and truly offended her.

"Tippy is good elf who loves Mistress. Tippy never forgets Mistress."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Good. Now go. Master Sevy be late."

Swearing as he realized she was right, Severus left his chambers at a fast clip. Years of living within Hogwarts longer than he had lived anywhere else, had him eating up the distance between the underwater dungeons and the headmaster's kingdom view office with impressive speed. Sooner than most, he was before the gargoyle sentry, relaying the password of fizzy lances - the headmaster's current muggle sweet obsession - in a hushed tone. Taking the spiraling stairs two at a time, he knocked once before entering to find that Minerva had also been called.

"Albus, Minnie," he greeted in turn. "What's so important it couldn't wait until at least Sunday evening or be managed by Horace?"

"I believe this is far too time sensitive," the head of Gryffindor - who had overseen his own Transfiguration Mastery when he had started teaching Potions - responded.

Grabbing a copy of the parchment Albus held out for him, Severus scanned the all too familiar scrawl of Hermione Granger. Septima had tasked her sixth year NEWT students with a project of age dating and life projection over the winter holiday and in his hands he held her turned in work. On the surface it was a brilliantly completed assignment worthy of the O marking she had received and the glowing comment that encouraged Hermione to think on accepting Septima's offer of Mastery that had Severus's chest swelling with pride for her. However she had forged the entire project and the part of him that had been swayed and lured into a darker, less legal lifestyle was even more proud of how convincing her deception was.

Dropping it back onto the desk, he casually commented, "I don't see what the problem is. She obviously lied so as to not be found out."

"But what if she didn't, Severus?" Minerva worried.

"Then she is still of age and more than skilled. We've all made sure of it; Remus and I especially."

"What if you're wrong? This could mess everything up and not just for you. We've spent nearly twenty years getting things into place and this could make it all blow up in our faces like Finnegan's spell work."

"And I take it you agree with Minnie, Albus," he stated over asking, his jaw working into a tight grind. "Otherwise I wouldn't be here. So you must also be inclined to believe that I somehow fucked this all up."

"Severus," Minnie scolded.

Scoffing as he looked from her to Albus, he waited for the headmaster to speak.

Leaning forward in his chair, he steepled his fingers before himself, touching them to his nose as the sleeves of his robes fell back to show the progression of his curse and said, "I must agree that when Minerva brought this to my attention, I too had concerns."

Snatching her assignment back, his eyes raced over the page to find the continuously ticking clock of her calculated age. Without having taken all available classes her third year she would be ten days shy of seventeen years and four months. If she had adhered to the strict guidelines set forth between the Ministry and Albus upon release of one of their Time Turners, she would be seventeen years, six months, and somewhere between two and three weeks which was exactly what her calculations showed. In actuality the three of them and Remus knew her to currently be well over that; by little over a year in fact.

It had started with her being unable to resist the temptation to indulge in extra turns of the dials to attend the wolf's Defense lectures. Not knowing when they would again have a competent and trustworthy professor, she had partaken in every lecture and practical that year through seventh year NEWTs so she was ready to tutor Harry should they end up with another Lockhart. Then with as insatiable and insufferable as she was, she had added in Potions before too long, followed by Herbology so she could keep up with his own lectures, and from there she fully committed to breaking the law by adding in Transfiguration and Charms, as well as Ancient Runes for fun. And things hadn't ended there. By the end of their final term that year, she was reliving her days as much as five times over so that she could attend all her classes, keep up with the required workload, study, eat, sleep, and maintain social interaction so as to not draw unwanted attention.

Still he did his own rough calculations before proceeding to double down.

"She lied, Albus! Being friends with Potter has made it second nature to her; though currently she's still utter shit at it."

"We can't take that risk!" Minerva yelled back at him. "We have to check. At the very least you can use it as a ruse to make sure everything in her head is secure."

"Fucking Salazar, Merlin, Mary, and Jesus!" He swore, beginning to pace the office. "Now you two are questioning my abilities to modify and bury memories? If you had thought me so inept these years why the fuck didn't you just do it yourself?"

"Severus," Albus tried to placate.

"No, Albus. Go ahead you or Remus can do it. I mean it's not as if I wasn't personally trained by the Dark Lord on honing my skills in Legilimency and mind magic. Go ahead and rifle through her head but I'm telling you, I'll find it if you do and it will ruin everything. That much we all know."

"Whatever it is, put it aside. Hermione's here as requested," Lupin announced, throwing the office door open and ushering the panic stricken witch in ahead of him.

Her amber and chocolate laced green eyes were bright with fear and unshed tears as she looked around the room, oblivious to what they were all arguing about. The gentle pink color of her pouty lips that he would come to kiss until swollen and bruised were turning red with blooming blood as she chewed and stripped the skin away. Drooping down the side of her head was the rumpled ribbon of her gold bow, it seeming to have lost its usual perkiness with her spiraling anxiety. And in her arms as she couldn't help but jiggle her leg from too much adrenaline, she clutched her whiskey tanned dragon leather knapsack - a gift he had passed to her through Theo on her most recent birthday - like a shield.

Her obvious need for soothing and comfort tugged at him, calling out for him to come and care for her and before he knew it, his booted foot was lifting off the floor to go to her. He was only stopped by a tight grasp on his wrist, jerking him out of the sudden trance the small witch had pulled him into. Meeting Remus's gold ringed blue eyes and the subtle shake of his head, Severus sighed and bit his tongue, shaking the wolf loose.

The blurring of who they were to one another and when they were, had become increasingly problematic over the last few months. The Hermione who sat in an armchair, sharing in the same air as him had begun to meld with the one who had come to share his bed. Most days, diving deeper into his natural occlusion banished the problem. Then there were the days when her pupils would dilate during his lectures, her cheeks and neck glowing with a faint flush by the end of class, and her voice softer and lighter with her particular need trying to creep out when she would speak. Those were the days when she unknowingly obliterated his walls; her mind all but screaming the uncensored thoughts that drifted through at him and making it a Herculean effort to not succumb and care for her wants and needs as he had always been prone and elated to do.

"Severus, are you ready?" Minerva asked, and from the tone of her voice not for the first time.

Sinking his thoughts beneath the surface, he snatched a quill and several sheets of parchment from Albus's desk. Removing his jacket and tossing it over the back of the armchair that was left for him, he sat opposite Hermione, her eyes zeroing in on his bracelet as he spread out in the chair.

D…? Yeah that's definitely a D and that's an A… Daddy, she silently pieced together, her thoughts passing freely between them as her head snapped up to look at him, her eyes like saucers.

Rubbing his fingers over his lips to mask the smirk that tugged at him, he turned his attention to creating an age map as he responded to himself, Yes, little angel. Daddy's here.