Chapter 8
Snape turned roughly in his sleep, his greasy black hair plastered to his sweat-soaked pillow. Grumbling, he turned over again and again, each time awakening more, bringing forth more grumbles from the miserably hot Potion master. "Stupid July..." he groaned, attempting to push his bed sheet further away from him, but it wasn't anywhere near him. "What's that blasted cooling spell," he murmured before turning over again to face his wife.
Suddenly, his dark eyes popped open as a moan, not of his own, met his ears. As his orbs adjusted to the dark, they sought out the moaner, and as another moan was emitted, his eyes fell on the slightly writhing figure of his wife lying beside him. "What the hell?" he questioned aloud. Obviously his wife was wrapped up in some sort of pleasure while she was she still half-asleep. He looked over her form, noticing her arms were out of the thin blanket that covered her. His jaw dropped.
"Severus," Narcissa moaned from her sleep as another pleasure spot had been met and from what source, Snape was dumbstruck. Strands of beaded sweat had formed on the Mrs. forehead and neck, and now the same was happening to her husband.
As she moaned again, her mouth falling open, Snape cleared his throat nervously, reaching out to poke her shoulder. "Honey?" he questioned softly. Immediately, he drew his hand back when she wiggled a bit, lost in her pleasurable dream. Bolder this time, he poked her again rougher, and again, until he began to shake her by her shoulders. "Cissa, wake the hell up!"
Her eyes shot open and her writhing paused instantaneously. She took several deep breaths and turned her head toward Snape. "Severus?" she questioned softly, her breath rate returning to normal. "What's wrong? You were felt so good."
"That wasn't me," he stammered, his eyes wide. His hands gripped the sheet and pulled it away from his wife's body rapidly, revealing a horrid image between Narcissa's legs, causing her to scream. "What the fuck!" he cursed, as the snake that had been pleasuring Narcissa, slithered off the bed and out the crack in the door to disappear down the hallway.
"I don't understand," she murmured, moisture developing in the corners of her eyes.
Snape shook his head lightly, frowning. "I don't know either, darling."
The following evening at dinner, Snape and Narcissa sat closer together than ever; Snape even forging himself to eat with his left hand so he could hold his wife's hand and eat simultaneously. Every few minutes, the two would share a long, worried glance before busying themselves with the turkey and stuffing on their plates.
Draco slammed down his fork, causing stuffing to fly off his plate and Evan to burst out into giggles. "What the hell is up with you two!" he exclaimed, casting a glare from his mother to his step-father.
Harry set down his fork gently and discreetly slipped his left hand over his son's mouth to mute the giggles as an odd feeling stirred within him. His right hand settled over the bulge of the stomach as he watched his husband lose control.
"You two keep exchanging these looks! What is wrong? What are you not telling us?" Draco stood up, his palms pressed flat and firmly against the tabletop, his gray eyes stormy with pent up anger. "I'm sick of this!" he screamed and lowered his chin to his chest, straining the muscles in the back of his neck.
"Son," Narcissa murmured and gripped Snape's hand tighter. "Something happened last night, and I'm beginning to have fears about my grandson."
The blonde's fingers curled, his knuckles paling as he opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, his mind scrambling for words. "You're grandson? You mean, my son?" His voice was low and harsh, slightly raspy, on the edge of a breakdown.
Snape stood up as well, brushing his greasy hair off his face, his fist contacting the abused table as well. "Yes, your son and our grandson; that boy sitting across from you. It's that damn snake he's been playing with! It was," he sneered and bit the inside of his cheek, not wanting to voice the incident that occurred last night. "It was pleasuring my wife!"
"What the fuck!" Draco cursed, his jaw hanging open. "How the hell did the snake pleasure…." His words trailed off to nothing as his head shook horizontally, his hands lifting from the table to press against his temples. "Nevermind," he muttered.
"Dear," Narcissa whispered loudly as she reached up to lightly grasp her husbands robe. "There's more you need to know about the snake."
"What else should I know about some snake?" Snape remarked as his cold eyes continued to glare in his step-son's direction.
"Your grandson talks to that snake."
The potion master's face became the same color as Draco's knuckles. "Talks?"
Narcissa nodded slowly and whispered a 'yes', her hand drifting from her husband's robe to rest in her lap limply. "He's a parselmouth."
Almost immediately following Narcissa's statement, a bony finger was pointed in the former Gryffindor's face with a gruff voice backing it up. "You!" Snape hollered. "You tainted that boy's life!"
Evan pursed his lips behind his daddy Harry's hand as his baby blue's watered from the sight and sounds his other father and grandfather created. Trembling, he slipped from his chair and darted from the room, his mass of black hair blowing behind him as he practically flew up the staircase.
Harry turned instantly to watch his son flee from the scene. "Look what you've done," he murmured, standing from the table, his hand still resting on his stomach. "I've got to go talk to him."
"Harry?" Draco questioned softly, "Why aren't you fighting Snape on the horrible comment he made?" The blonde had somehow suppressed his anger as soon as his son escaped the insults and curses that saturated the air. When he didn't receive an answer, he stepped away from the table and moved around the fuming man, whose finger had returned to his side. "Harry?"
A tear silently slipped down Harry's cheek. "While you people have been arguing, our children have been kicking inside me."