A/N: Alright, since the last chapter was kind of long, I think I'll just
keep this to 'little plot.' I got a review hoping I'd finish this 'even
though I only had five reviews' and therefore making it six, but also
expressing confusion as to how Julie could be Hermione & Snape's daughter.
So I'll explain. Here you go.
Chapter Eight: A Night Regrowing Bones and Learning Things
"Your dad isn' always so mean as 'e'd like to have students think, is 'e, now?"
"I figured that out the firtht day I met him," Julie observed, unwittingly providing Donaghan with a method of asking something he'd wondered and worried about.
"It must be odd, just getting parents when you're sixteen."
"Fifteen, acthually, my birthday'th not 'til January." Julie thought a bit and added, "Yeah, it it'th a little weird. But they're tho like me I feel like I've known them, like, all my life inthtead of juth the patht theveral monthth of it."
"I kna' y'love 'em even when they make y'crazy."
"I figured that out on the firtht day, too." Donaghan looked more than a little distressed as he looked over Julie's face, so she asked him- "Do I really look horrible bruithed like thith?" He frowned, then traced a line from her ear to her swollen lip.
"Two eyes blacker'n midnight, a nose that looks crunched like a Bludger done, lips-one's been split an' th' other's swellin', y're missin' eigh' teeth and y're still lookin' beautiful." He kissed her gently on the upper and less painful lip, not knowing Julie would have kissed him with a missing one. She was genuinely happy to see him, and he was hoping that he didn't manage to hurt or upset her more. "I think y're hand's thicker," he offered, knowing that they probably hurt like they were closed in fire. "And your lisp is fading...do you feel any nubs of teeth yet?"
"I had forgotten what it felt like, but yeah. Teething thucks, really." Julie was making a genuinely peculiar face from the discomfort of the rapidly growing teeth. "I think I almotht mith having my jaw fithed thut, it doethn't thting tho much then."
"I've got an idea." Donaghan raced over to the cold box- -the wizarding idea of a refrigerator- -and returned with a clean cloth and three ice cubes. "Here." He folded the washcloth around the ice cubes, then crushed them in between his strong catcher's hands.He unfolded the washcloth and began to put bits of crushed ice in the space where Julie's teeth would be growing in. "Y'll 'ave a bit 'o trouble talkin', but it'll 'urt a sigh' less. Does this feel ar'righ', jus' nod if it's a 'yes', y'know?"
Julie nodded, as the space was feeling much better with the ice; leaving her to wonder how he'd learned a trick for teething pain. The fact that he had just hand-fed her was really no problem, as on the Quidditch team the players had to be close like that. Like siblings, they would share a cup or plate ofttimes, never quibbling about whose drink was whose or that stuff. Sometimes they even had snacks in midair as an exercise in dexterity, throwing small bits of food for the others to catch between teeth- -her introduction of donut holes proving a marvelous hit. And on the ground at Hogsmeade, Tom and Tim regularly came up to her with 'Julie, try this,' proffering a tidbit and neatly tossing one into her mouth usually mid- protest, after which she usually turned into something odd. Once or twice they had done that to Donaghan, until it got to the point that he, Julie, and the others just accepted their fate with wry dignity, turning into canaries, great lizards, and whatnot to the vast amusement of the cousins and their oddball dads. Donaghan seemed a little uncomfortable with silence, though, and as she couldn't move her hands to gesture, she spoke up again:
"That really helped it a lot, Donaghan, thank you." He grinned and kissed her again on the upper lip, only to have her move just a little for a proper kiss. The surprise and vague amusement shone out from his eyes. "I'm not going to break if you touch me, Captain, you'd do well not to underestimate your Seeker now." Arch though her remark may have been, Julie did not expect to see the look of shock her Captain gave her then. "What?"
"Julie, you jus' said a whole mess of 's's perfec'ly." Donaghan was looking at her cheek in awe. "Y've done grown your firs' front tooth back ar'ready!"
"I kinda thought that the big ones would come in first," Julie remarked wryly, thinking of the 'long-molared Muggle' crack that Flint had made before he knocked out half of the teeth in her upper jaw. Julie had unfortunately inherited her mother's rather large front incisors, and but for her father's nose and eyebrows might have looked something like a bushyhaired rabbit-girl- -at least in her personal opinion. 'Uncle Harry' had told her how her mother had shrunk her teeth years ago, and she hoped that Madam Pomfrey'd maybe help with that. It wasn't that she thought her teeth were ugly, just that they really didn't fit quite right for her size of face. Or maybe she'd really grow into them.
It wasn't something she would waste time complaining on, especially with such important matters looming large around. What would become of her now she had stabbed a student there? True, it had been self-defense and fair, but honestly. It was the kind of trick that Muggles would give jail time for- -and she'd been told what wizard prison used to be 'back then.' That was a term she found strange, but oddly useful for a lot of things; anything dating to the time before her birth and therefore Voldemort's downfall was classified by parents' friends as from 'back then.' It was a bit like the way Muggles referred to times before wars, she thought, and evidently this evil Lord Voldemort had been a kind of wizard Hitler or Osama bin Laden in her parents' time.
There was another term that seemed too odd to use for her! Julie had no real definition of 'her parents' time', as one's started twenty years before the other's did. She knew full well her father was older than her mother was, even strangely so, according to the students she had classes with. But Julie also knew full well they didn't get it, as all Hogwarts students could perceive of her father was unfavorable, cynical, and very strict. And her mother insisted he'd mellowed some! Julie had a knack for observation of the closest kind, but thought it obvious that her parents loved each other so much they could hardly see. Why couldn't the other kids notice that?
It occurred to her that wizard kids didn't read Muggle books, and maybe that was the reason it seemed odd to them. A lot of the reason why Julie found her father's age quite normal was her third-grade addiction to the book "To Kill a Mockingbird," and quite probably watching "The Sound of Music" nearly fifty times added to her concept of an older dad as quite alright. Orphans tended to form images of parent-types, and Julie realized hers had always shown her father as an Atticus, over fifty, but still bright of eye and very smart. Now it turned out her real father was chronologically near to fifty-two, but only looked a weathered thirty-five with hair still black. It was the voice that made her father seem his 'number-age.' And her mother looked the age she was, calendar saying thirty- three inaccurate due to time-travel back in her student days. Julie wasn't sure what her mum had looked like as a student there, but her dad described the change as merely 'taller, some, plus now she wears the teachers' robes.' Sometimes he wasn't that helpful. She had been hoping to grow a little more herself, actually, as five-foot-five was unacceptable for grown- up Snapes. The innate will to be like both of her parents was a driving force, and Julie noted heights and genes and tried to meet the norm. Her father being more than six feet tall, she had decided that some growing was in order, then. Her mother always having whiter teeth than anyone resulted in a brushing/flossing/mouthwash-slugging fanaticism- -not a problem when her grandparents were dentists, true.
She never stopped to wonder if it might be bad for her. After all, with such opposite parents, there was very little room to go to overkill. She would never be an absolute Slytherin, any more than she could try to be a perfect Gryffindor. Julie wondered whether the founders of Hogwarts had fought a lot, and decided it must have turned out the way her mother and dad's rare arguments usually did. One wound up making a final impassioned point to the other one, and the second either proposed a clever compromise or agreed with them. If all else failed they had Professor McGonagall mediate, as the one time they had let Julie had been disastrous beyond reckoning. It was on a question of decorating, and red and green did not prove really complimentary in color sense. Sometimes Julie wondered what their house away from school was like. They would probably be staying there over Christmas break, and Julie wasn't sure if snakes and lions went that well. Sure, they looked fine together on Quidditch gloves, but green and red might not make the most inviting carpet scheme. All she knew about her home was that it was her home; she had never been there or seen what it looked like. But Julie was sure that she would find her home a lovely place. Any place with her mother's touch was friendly to her.
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Julie spent a lot of time flying with her father, true, but it was the long studying and talking with her mother that she found to be the best and most perfectly useful time she spent at Hogwarts. Coming directly into fifth- year required some extra work to catch up to things, and who better to tutor Julie than her Professor Granger? Hermione found helping Julie study to be wonderful, at last with a student who seemed just as much if not more of a know-it-all than she was. She had only to mention a spell she'd once learned, and the next day Julie'd have found it in at least seven books and mastered it completely. And for all of her daughter's wry sarcasm, it reminded her of Severus, and she liked that. It seemed not too long ago she had heedlessly started a relationship with her Professor, and this living, breathing mixture of the two of them was a reminder of all the years they had had together so far. As much as she longed to have been a part of Julie's missing childhood, Hermione did have a very tiny feeling of relief she didn't find out she had a daughter at age eighteen. She had genuinely no recall of Julie's birth, or even of anything from her kidnapping to rescue later. There was a gaping ten-month hole in her memory, and all it left her was a close to accurate date of Julie's probable conception back in seventh year. There was something called an anticeptive charm on all of Hogwarts, meaning that no child could be conceived unless both parties wanted there to be one. Evidently the 'didn't want one then' clause had proved to be the cause of Julie's existence, as there was probably no other way to circumvent the charm. Thinking of her school days brought back a memory of one particular day- -when she was walking over to Hagrid's…
She was meeting Harry and Ron on a violently rainy day at their favorite teacher Hagrid's wooden cottage. There were only a few clouds as she changed her clothes, but by the time she left for Hagrid's it was storming hard. She ran into a professor as she pulled open the door, soaking wet, who sharply told her to
"Get out of my way- oh, it's you."
"Yes, what's your hurry Sev- I mean Professor Snape?" There was a momentary glance around by both of them to make sure that they were totally alone right there.
"I was hoping to see you, actually. Where are you going in this thunderstorm?"
"To Hagrid's, I'm meeting Harry and Ron there."
"Shall I see you in the dungeons then afterward?"A Hufflepuff third-year suddenly appeared from around the corner. "Detention this evening, then, Miss Granger." It was one of his easiest tricks when students were approaching- -pretend to be angry and then give her a detention. Hermione stifled her grin and tried her best to look ticked-off at him for this. The third-year was suitably impressed, moving swiftly away as the 'angry' professor passed. Hermione opened the door again and stepped outside, instantly realizing why Severus had been so surprised about her going outside. There were rain and clouds so thick that she could barely see. 'No matter,' she thought, and absently walked off towards Hagrid's house.
The rain began to smell more like trees as she drew closer to the Forbidden Forest. Unafraid, she simply walked on as if it weren't there. Suddenly, a streak of lightning lit up the cloudy sky. She felt a hand clutch her shoulder and instantly the arm felt numb and frozen cold. Retaliating in the only way she could, Hermione drew her wand with her left hand and spun to face the man.
The hooded figure with the ratlike face was Wormtail. Needless to say, she didn't get to Hagrid's.
"Hermione!" Professor McGonagall looked as if she'd been calling for minutes.
"Wha- oh, yes, go on."
"I was asking you what you thought we should do about Matius Flint's expulsion."
"Oh, Matt Flint. Yeah- I guess…right." Severus abruptly took Hermione's arm and she looked at him.
"You've been doing that really too often, love."
"Oh, I'm sorry, I just- -thinking again. Where were we?"
"It's Minerva's opinion the we should expel Matt Flint. What do you think, dear?"
"I don't know. You're his Head of House, Severus."
"That's the thing. She thinks that I'm too biased because it was Julie he fought back there." Snape gave McGonagall a look of artless innocence. Hermione was lightly shocked by his joking manner but more so by McGonagall's asking for her thoughts.
"And you think I'm any better, Minerva?"
"You're notoriously fairer than your husband is, and as a parent of the victim you have a say in this."
"I think what he did was unforgiveable, but don't you think that we should find out why he did it?"
"We were just planning to while you were painting sky in the slide zone there." Both females looked at Severus suddenly, unable to decipher the peculiar idiom.
"You've been talking to Julie, then, haven't you?" Sheepishly he nodded. Professor McGonagall and Hermione were both pretty close to giggling despite the gravity of the topic at hand. "I don't suppose you have any idea why she says that, right?"
"No, it's a legitimate expression for daydreaming while something else is going on- -just a very odd one, I guess. Must be a Muggle thing." Hermione grinned, knowing full well why her daughter said that.
"Alright, anyway. So you think that we should go find out Flint's motive before deciding whether to expel the boy or not, Hermione?"
"Definitely. Where are you watching him?"
"Actually, I've put Flint in Hagrid's care; they should both be Remus' old Shrieking Shack." Noting their looks of confusion, Professor McGonagall explained: "There are still the old werewolf-chains in the walls."
"I don't think that's very-"
"I think so." Severus had no qualms about chaining Flint up. "It's not like you, Minerva, but I like it still."
"You can't chain up a student in the Shrieking Shack!"
"Actually, Hermione, I just did." Professor McGonagall basked in the shocked look Hermione gave her for a second and then smiled. "I'm just kidding! Hagrid's got him in the greenhouse out with Neville now."
"Oh, like that's better!" Severus looked jokingly about to pout at her. "Couldn't you have chained him up and beat him some?"
"I honestly hope you're joking, dear. It isn't fair to beat him up for fighting her."
"She's right, Severus. We should let Neville and Harry take a wand to that little miscreant, they know how to make a kid apologize."
"Professor!"
"Don't you think they'd treat him worse than you or Severus could?"
"Well, yeah, but that's not a-"
"Of course it's a good thing, love. Let them on."
"Both of you are really getting bloodthirsty about this."
"And aren't you glad we're doing it so humorously?"
"You're right, 'cause I'd be just as bad if you weren't here."
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"Ar'righ', yeh little git, straigh'en up, Professors 'ere ter see yeh now." While not being overly mean to Matius Flint, Hagrid did have a fairly keen sense of how to treat the slumped and sullen little criminal. Hence the boy was sitting on a stool without a back, as Neville and Hagrid guarded him from fluffy chairs. Flint was bruised a little on the face and clearly tired, and as he struggled not to fall right off the tiny seat Neville had a way of making cracks at him. Mostly it was just a few sharp things about how no real men ever hit ladies, but a few remarks had the effect of making Flint straighten and almost move to strike the smiling-faced 'Professor Nev.' By the time the Headmistress showed up with the Snapes he looked quite red, both from fury at his jailors and a shameful blush. The dark- haired, square-jawed boy stepped off the stool and looked at Snape.
"So, how's your kid, sir? Talking well?" Sarcastically, he hoped to make the teacher mad. But Snape just looked at him as if he were a flobberworm.
"Flint, I'm very disappointed that a Slytherin would ever have to sink this low- -to hit a girl's like stepping on a baby snake." It was clear from the way Flint went redder and lowered his eyes that the words from his Head of House hurt the worst. "If you had a problem with her, why not just use your wand to duel like a man?"
"She- -she broke my wand, sir, after I cursed Malgryevic down." The insolence was gone from the Slytherin's voice. Snape moved closer to the boy and gave him a withering look.
"How did she do it?"
"She disarmed me and then caught it, sir, and snapped it in her left hand with her wand in right." Flint was actually appearing a little ashamed of things, so Snape turned to the other professors and motioned for them to leave. "I- -I only meant to fight Malgryevic, sir, he lost the game because he …likes your daughter, sir. I saw them talking and got angry…don't know what I did."
"Why didn't you just rag on Malgryevic in the common room?" Snape blinked a second, realizing that the term 'rag on' was a Julie-ism meaning 'tease.' Flint gave him a look of contrition and replied:
"I don't know, sir." Snape gave him a curious, menacing glance. "I knew I couldn't bother him for fancying your daughter, sir."
"And why is that?"
"Because he's not the only one who likes her, sir."
This news hit Snape like a ton of bricks. He had gotten so used to seeing Julie as his little girl, it was a total shock to realize that she was desirable to boys. And given the many ways she looked like him, it seemed like a surprise she was so pretty to them. It had never occurred to him that the totally black hair she'd inherited set off her cinnamon eyes almost perfectly, his hawklike nose in female form giving her young face character beyond her years. In disbelief he looked at Flint again, and realized precisely why the Slytherin was so contrite.
"Which ones do, Flint? I'd like to know honestly."
"Well, the entire Quidditch team thinks that she's talented-"
"Damn straight."
"-and a lot of the guys think that she looks- -like you-"
"It's obvious she does, I want opinions, Flint!"
"Well…a lot of the guys think she looks cute, sir."
"Cute?"
"More like pretty, and friendly and…really nice." Snape lowered his voice and moved close to Flint.
"Are you among the guys who thinks she's 'really nice'?" Nervously, Flint nodded. "I thought so. How do you think she likes you now with half her teeth knocked out? Ever used Skele-Gro to regrow a bone before? She's got both of her hands regrowing from the way you smashed them up. Should I expel you or just make you to apologize?" Flint raised his head as if to answer and Snape said: "Shut up. It was a rhetorical question, Flint. I really wonder just how much my daughter hates you now."
Chapter Eight: A Night Regrowing Bones and Learning Things
"Your dad isn' always so mean as 'e'd like to have students think, is 'e, now?"
"I figured that out the firtht day I met him," Julie observed, unwittingly providing Donaghan with a method of asking something he'd wondered and worried about.
"It must be odd, just getting parents when you're sixteen."
"Fifteen, acthually, my birthday'th not 'til January." Julie thought a bit and added, "Yeah, it it'th a little weird. But they're tho like me I feel like I've known them, like, all my life inthtead of juth the patht theveral monthth of it."
"I kna' y'love 'em even when they make y'crazy."
"I figured that out on the firtht day, too." Donaghan looked more than a little distressed as he looked over Julie's face, so she asked him- "Do I really look horrible bruithed like thith?" He frowned, then traced a line from her ear to her swollen lip.
"Two eyes blacker'n midnight, a nose that looks crunched like a Bludger done, lips-one's been split an' th' other's swellin', y're missin' eigh' teeth and y're still lookin' beautiful." He kissed her gently on the upper and less painful lip, not knowing Julie would have kissed him with a missing one. She was genuinely happy to see him, and he was hoping that he didn't manage to hurt or upset her more. "I think y're hand's thicker," he offered, knowing that they probably hurt like they were closed in fire. "And your lisp is fading...do you feel any nubs of teeth yet?"
"I had forgotten what it felt like, but yeah. Teething thucks, really." Julie was making a genuinely peculiar face from the discomfort of the rapidly growing teeth. "I think I almotht mith having my jaw fithed thut, it doethn't thting tho much then."
"I've got an idea." Donaghan raced over to the cold box- -the wizarding idea of a refrigerator- -and returned with a clean cloth and three ice cubes. "Here." He folded the washcloth around the ice cubes, then crushed them in between his strong catcher's hands.He unfolded the washcloth and began to put bits of crushed ice in the space where Julie's teeth would be growing in. "Y'll 'ave a bit 'o trouble talkin', but it'll 'urt a sigh' less. Does this feel ar'righ', jus' nod if it's a 'yes', y'know?"
Julie nodded, as the space was feeling much better with the ice; leaving her to wonder how he'd learned a trick for teething pain. The fact that he had just hand-fed her was really no problem, as on the Quidditch team the players had to be close like that. Like siblings, they would share a cup or plate ofttimes, never quibbling about whose drink was whose or that stuff. Sometimes they even had snacks in midair as an exercise in dexterity, throwing small bits of food for the others to catch between teeth- -her introduction of donut holes proving a marvelous hit. And on the ground at Hogsmeade, Tom and Tim regularly came up to her with 'Julie, try this,' proffering a tidbit and neatly tossing one into her mouth usually mid- protest, after which she usually turned into something odd. Once or twice they had done that to Donaghan, until it got to the point that he, Julie, and the others just accepted their fate with wry dignity, turning into canaries, great lizards, and whatnot to the vast amusement of the cousins and their oddball dads. Donaghan seemed a little uncomfortable with silence, though, and as she couldn't move her hands to gesture, she spoke up again:
"That really helped it a lot, Donaghan, thank you." He grinned and kissed her again on the upper lip, only to have her move just a little for a proper kiss. The surprise and vague amusement shone out from his eyes. "I'm not going to break if you touch me, Captain, you'd do well not to underestimate your Seeker now." Arch though her remark may have been, Julie did not expect to see the look of shock her Captain gave her then. "What?"
"Julie, you jus' said a whole mess of 's's perfec'ly." Donaghan was looking at her cheek in awe. "Y've done grown your firs' front tooth back ar'ready!"
"I kinda thought that the big ones would come in first," Julie remarked wryly, thinking of the 'long-molared Muggle' crack that Flint had made before he knocked out half of the teeth in her upper jaw. Julie had unfortunately inherited her mother's rather large front incisors, and but for her father's nose and eyebrows might have looked something like a bushyhaired rabbit-girl- -at least in her personal opinion. 'Uncle Harry' had told her how her mother had shrunk her teeth years ago, and she hoped that Madam Pomfrey'd maybe help with that. It wasn't that she thought her teeth were ugly, just that they really didn't fit quite right for her size of face. Or maybe she'd really grow into them.
It wasn't something she would waste time complaining on, especially with such important matters looming large around. What would become of her now she had stabbed a student there? True, it had been self-defense and fair, but honestly. It was the kind of trick that Muggles would give jail time for- -and she'd been told what wizard prison used to be 'back then.' That was a term she found strange, but oddly useful for a lot of things; anything dating to the time before her birth and therefore Voldemort's downfall was classified by parents' friends as from 'back then.' It was a bit like the way Muggles referred to times before wars, she thought, and evidently this evil Lord Voldemort had been a kind of wizard Hitler or Osama bin Laden in her parents' time.
There was another term that seemed too odd to use for her! Julie had no real definition of 'her parents' time', as one's started twenty years before the other's did. She knew full well her father was older than her mother was, even strangely so, according to the students she had classes with. But Julie also knew full well they didn't get it, as all Hogwarts students could perceive of her father was unfavorable, cynical, and very strict. And her mother insisted he'd mellowed some! Julie had a knack for observation of the closest kind, but thought it obvious that her parents loved each other so much they could hardly see. Why couldn't the other kids notice that?
It occurred to her that wizard kids didn't read Muggle books, and maybe that was the reason it seemed odd to them. A lot of the reason why Julie found her father's age quite normal was her third-grade addiction to the book "To Kill a Mockingbird," and quite probably watching "The Sound of Music" nearly fifty times added to her concept of an older dad as quite alright. Orphans tended to form images of parent-types, and Julie realized hers had always shown her father as an Atticus, over fifty, but still bright of eye and very smart. Now it turned out her real father was chronologically near to fifty-two, but only looked a weathered thirty-five with hair still black. It was the voice that made her father seem his 'number-age.' And her mother looked the age she was, calendar saying thirty- three inaccurate due to time-travel back in her student days. Julie wasn't sure what her mum had looked like as a student there, but her dad described the change as merely 'taller, some, plus now she wears the teachers' robes.' Sometimes he wasn't that helpful. She had been hoping to grow a little more herself, actually, as five-foot-five was unacceptable for grown- up Snapes. The innate will to be like both of her parents was a driving force, and Julie noted heights and genes and tried to meet the norm. Her father being more than six feet tall, she had decided that some growing was in order, then. Her mother always having whiter teeth than anyone resulted in a brushing/flossing/mouthwash-slugging fanaticism- -not a problem when her grandparents were dentists, true.
She never stopped to wonder if it might be bad for her. After all, with such opposite parents, there was very little room to go to overkill. She would never be an absolute Slytherin, any more than she could try to be a perfect Gryffindor. Julie wondered whether the founders of Hogwarts had fought a lot, and decided it must have turned out the way her mother and dad's rare arguments usually did. One wound up making a final impassioned point to the other one, and the second either proposed a clever compromise or agreed with them. If all else failed they had Professor McGonagall mediate, as the one time they had let Julie had been disastrous beyond reckoning. It was on a question of decorating, and red and green did not prove really complimentary in color sense. Sometimes Julie wondered what their house away from school was like. They would probably be staying there over Christmas break, and Julie wasn't sure if snakes and lions went that well. Sure, they looked fine together on Quidditch gloves, but green and red might not make the most inviting carpet scheme. All she knew about her home was that it was her home; she had never been there or seen what it looked like. But Julie was sure that she would find her home a lovely place. Any place with her mother's touch was friendly to her.
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Julie spent a lot of time flying with her father, true, but it was the long studying and talking with her mother that she found to be the best and most perfectly useful time she spent at Hogwarts. Coming directly into fifth- year required some extra work to catch up to things, and who better to tutor Julie than her Professor Granger? Hermione found helping Julie study to be wonderful, at last with a student who seemed just as much if not more of a know-it-all than she was. She had only to mention a spell she'd once learned, and the next day Julie'd have found it in at least seven books and mastered it completely. And for all of her daughter's wry sarcasm, it reminded her of Severus, and she liked that. It seemed not too long ago she had heedlessly started a relationship with her Professor, and this living, breathing mixture of the two of them was a reminder of all the years they had had together so far. As much as she longed to have been a part of Julie's missing childhood, Hermione did have a very tiny feeling of relief she didn't find out she had a daughter at age eighteen. She had genuinely no recall of Julie's birth, or even of anything from her kidnapping to rescue later. There was a gaping ten-month hole in her memory, and all it left her was a close to accurate date of Julie's probable conception back in seventh year. There was something called an anticeptive charm on all of Hogwarts, meaning that no child could be conceived unless both parties wanted there to be one. Evidently the 'didn't want one then' clause had proved to be the cause of Julie's existence, as there was probably no other way to circumvent the charm. Thinking of her school days brought back a memory of one particular day- -when she was walking over to Hagrid's…
She was meeting Harry and Ron on a violently rainy day at their favorite teacher Hagrid's wooden cottage. There were only a few clouds as she changed her clothes, but by the time she left for Hagrid's it was storming hard. She ran into a professor as she pulled open the door, soaking wet, who sharply told her to
"Get out of my way- oh, it's you."
"Yes, what's your hurry Sev- I mean Professor Snape?" There was a momentary glance around by both of them to make sure that they were totally alone right there.
"I was hoping to see you, actually. Where are you going in this thunderstorm?"
"To Hagrid's, I'm meeting Harry and Ron there."
"Shall I see you in the dungeons then afterward?"A Hufflepuff third-year suddenly appeared from around the corner. "Detention this evening, then, Miss Granger." It was one of his easiest tricks when students were approaching- -pretend to be angry and then give her a detention. Hermione stifled her grin and tried her best to look ticked-off at him for this. The third-year was suitably impressed, moving swiftly away as the 'angry' professor passed. Hermione opened the door again and stepped outside, instantly realizing why Severus had been so surprised about her going outside. There were rain and clouds so thick that she could barely see. 'No matter,' she thought, and absently walked off towards Hagrid's house.
The rain began to smell more like trees as she drew closer to the Forbidden Forest. Unafraid, she simply walked on as if it weren't there. Suddenly, a streak of lightning lit up the cloudy sky. She felt a hand clutch her shoulder and instantly the arm felt numb and frozen cold. Retaliating in the only way she could, Hermione drew her wand with her left hand and spun to face the man.
The hooded figure with the ratlike face was Wormtail. Needless to say, she didn't get to Hagrid's.
"Hermione!" Professor McGonagall looked as if she'd been calling for minutes.
"Wha- oh, yes, go on."
"I was asking you what you thought we should do about Matius Flint's expulsion."
"Oh, Matt Flint. Yeah- I guess…right." Severus abruptly took Hermione's arm and she looked at him.
"You've been doing that really too often, love."
"Oh, I'm sorry, I just- -thinking again. Where were we?"
"It's Minerva's opinion the we should expel Matt Flint. What do you think, dear?"
"I don't know. You're his Head of House, Severus."
"That's the thing. She thinks that I'm too biased because it was Julie he fought back there." Snape gave McGonagall a look of artless innocence. Hermione was lightly shocked by his joking manner but more so by McGonagall's asking for her thoughts.
"And you think I'm any better, Minerva?"
"You're notoriously fairer than your husband is, and as a parent of the victim you have a say in this."
"I think what he did was unforgiveable, but don't you think that we should find out why he did it?"
"We were just planning to while you were painting sky in the slide zone there." Both females looked at Severus suddenly, unable to decipher the peculiar idiom.
"You've been talking to Julie, then, haven't you?" Sheepishly he nodded. Professor McGonagall and Hermione were both pretty close to giggling despite the gravity of the topic at hand. "I don't suppose you have any idea why she says that, right?"
"No, it's a legitimate expression for daydreaming while something else is going on- -just a very odd one, I guess. Must be a Muggle thing." Hermione grinned, knowing full well why her daughter said that.
"Alright, anyway. So you think that we should go find out Flint's motive before deciding whether to expel the boy or not, Hermione?"
"Definitely. Where are you watching him?"
"Actually, I've put Flint in Hagrid's care; they should both be Remus' old Shrieking Shack." Noting their looks of confusion, Professor McGonagall explained: "There are still the old werewolf-chains in the walls."
"I don't think that's very-"
"I think so." Severus had no qualms about chaining Flint up. "It's not like you, Minerva, but I like it still."
"You can't chain up a student in the Shrieking Shack!"
"Actually, Hermione, I just did." Professor McGonagall basked in the shocked look Hermione gave her for a second and then smiled. "I'm just kidding! Hagrid's got him in the greenhouse out with Neville now."
"Oh, like that's better!" Severus looked jokingly about to pout at her. "Couldn't you have chained him up and beat him some?"
"I honestly hope you're joking, dear. It isn't fair to beat him up for fighting her."
"She's right, Severus. We should let Neville and Harry take a wand to that little miscreant, they know how to make a kid apologize."
"Professor!"
"Don't you think they'd treat him worse than you or Severus could?"
"Well, yeah, but that's not a-"
"Of course it's a good thing, love. Let them on."
"Both of you are really getting bloodthirsty about this."
"And aren't you glad we're doing it so humorously?"
"You're right, 'cause I'd be just as bad if you weren't here."
**************************
"Ar'righ', yeh little git, straigh'en up, Professors 'ere ter see yeh now." While not being overly mean to Matius Flint, Hagrid did have a fairly keen sense of how to treat the slumped and sullen little criminal. Hence the boy was sitting on a stool without a back, as Neville and Hagrid guarded him from fluffy chairs. Flint was bruised a little on the face and clearly tired, and as he struggled not to fall right off the tiny seat Neville had a way of making cracks at him. Mostly it was just a few sharp things about how no real men ever hit ladies, but a few remarks had the effect of making Flint straighten and almost move to strike the smiling-faced 'Professor Nev.' By the time the Headmistress showed up with the Snapes he looked quite red, both from fury at his jailors and a shameful blush. The dark- haired, square-jawed boy stepped off the stool and looked at Snape.
"So, how's your kid, sir? Talking well?" Sarcastically, he hoped to make the teacher mad. But Snape just looked at him as if he were a flobberworm.
"Flint, I'm very disappointed that a Slytherin would ever have to sink this low- -to hit a girl's like stepping on a baby snake." It was clear from the way Flint went redder and lowered his eyes that the words from his Head of House hurt the worst. "If you had a problem with her, why not just use your wand to duel like a man?"
"She- -she broke my wand, sir, after I cursed Malgryevic down." The insolence was gone from the Slytherin's voice. Snape moved closer to the boy and gave him a withering look.
"How did she do it?"
"She disarmed me and then caught it, sir, and snapped it in her left hand with her wand in right." Flint was actually appearing a little ashamed of things, so Snape turned to the other professors and motioned for them to leave. "I- -I only meant to fight Malgryevic, sir, he lost the game because he …likes your daughter, sir. I saw them talking and got angry…don't know what I did."
"Why didn't you just rag on Malgryevic in the common room?" Snape blinked a second, realizing that the term 'rag on' was a Julie-ism meaning 'tease.' Flint gave him a look of contrition and replied:
"I don't know, sir." Snape gave him a curious, menacing glance. "I knew I couldn't bother him for fancying your daughter, sir."
"And why is that?"
"Because he's not the only one who likes her, sir."
This news hit Snape like a ton of bricks. He had gotten so used to seeing Julie as his little girl, it was a total shock to realize that she was desirable to boys. And given the many ways she looked like him, it seemed like a surprise she was so pretty to them. It had never occurred to him that the totally black hair she'd inherited set off her cinnamon eyes almost perfectly, his hawklike nose in female form giving her young face character beyond her years. In disbelief he looked at Flint again, and realized precisely why the Slytherin was so contrite.
"Which ones do, Flint? I'd like to know honestly."
"Well, the entire Quidditch team thinks that she's talented-"
"Damn straight."
"-and a lot of the guys think that she looks- -like you-"
"It's obvious she does, I want opinions, Flint!"
"Well…a lot of the guys think she looks cute, sir."
"Cute?"
"More like pretty, and friendly and…really nice." Snape lowered his voice and moved close to Flint.
"Are you among the guys who thinks she's 'really nice'?" Nervously, Flint nodded. "I thought so. How do you think she likes you now with half her teeth knocked out? Ever used Skele-Gro to regrow a bone before? She's got both of her hands regrowing from the way you smashed them up. Should I expel you or just make you to apologize?" Flint raised his head as if to answer and Snape said: "Shut up. It was a rhetorical question, Flint. I really wonder just how much my daughter hates you now."