"No."

Hermione arched a brow at him. "No?" she queried looking so like him for a moment it almost took his breath away. Fuck. He didn't need the reminder that she was his child. Not right now. Not when he was trying really hard to refuse her.

"No." he reiterated. And if it sounded slightly less sure, he sure as fuck wasn't going to mention it. The way Jean and Amelia stifled smiles though unfortunately indicated that they'd fucking picked up on it. Fucking harpies.

"I see," Hermione replied, sounding eerily calm, staring back at him unblinkingly. Fuck. He knew that fucking tactic. He used that fucking tactic. It was not fun on the other fucking side of it. He felt…antsy. Like he wanted to fidget. He was Severus fucking Snape. He did not fidget!

"Hermione," he pleaded, "They have bats in Santa hats on them. I'll look ridiculous." It was then he knew he'd lost. He was fucking begging. There was no coming back from this.

His daughter looked pointedly around the room where everyone, absolutely fucking everyone, including the dog, had on festive pyjamas. They all looked fucking thrilled. Other than Crookshanks, who looked disdainful in his tiny Santa hat and tinsel collar. He could almost forgive Jean and Richard. This was one of their traditions apparently, therefore they'd been doing it for years and had clearly forgotten how fucking stupid it made them look. And Harry…well they'd already established that family Christmases were something he'd only ever imagined. But surely Amelia should be on his side? Susan perhaps? She had festive fucking devil's snares on hers for fucks sake, and she was disturbingly happy about it!

Standing in front of him in glaringly red Christmas pyjamas with tiny gold lions in Santa hats, his daughter was holding green pyjamas with tiny bats in the same Santa hats dotted all over them like a bizarre polkadot. Harry had snitches and Amelia, for some reason, had dragons. In Santa hats. He had no idea where Jean had even got the sodding things. Surely these weren't standard muggle wear? They couldn't be. Harry had snitches. Did that…had they had them fucking made? Dear gods that made it fucking worse. With a loud sigh, ignoring Hermione's smug little smile, he grabbed the pyjamas and stormed off. Fucking new families and their fucking Christmas eve traditions. He didn't like it.

"That wasn't so hard was it?" Amelia soothed with a rather gleeful smile when he reappeared.

He glowered back. "Picture time!" Jean shouted. What? No. Fucking no! He wasn't having evidence of this anywhere!

"I'll take it." he offered quickly.

"Don't be silly, Severus." Jean chided, a look of mischief on her face, "Lori already offered."

If he could have whined, he would have. Even the fucking dog looked amused. In his ridiculous pyjama top with bow-topped bones. And a Santa hat on his head.

Fucking hell he had no idea how traumatic a family Christmas would be. He'd wanted this, hadn't he? At some point in his life, when he was younger, he used to imagine how this would feel. What the fuck had he been thinking? Although presumably in his younger imaginings he hadn't conjured up a Jean. Some things were simply beyond imagination. Like the picture she was now asking Lori to develop and clear a space for on the mantelpiece. He was going to fucking burn the thing as soon as possible. If anyone ever saw it, he'd never hear the fucking end of it.

Silently he prayed that this hell would end soon and the children could be put to bed. Like toddlers. Although to be fair, they were behaving like toddlers, bouncing with excitement.

Harry and Hermione had been explaining muggle traditions to Susan all day and as a result, they'd baked (and eaten, which might explain the bouncing) a gingerbread house and a plethora of gingerbread men before disappearing to the Grangers for a few hours to watch Christmas films. They'd come back only for him to be accosted with a brightly wrapped parcel that Jean had stowed under the tree in the living room. And that was when this hell had really begun.

Now, they were excitedly discussing stockings, one for Susan and Harry having appeared next to Hermione's under the tree earlier, waiting to be hung in their rooms apparently. Didn't muggles hang them over the fireplace? He felt like he should know that, but he'd never had a stocking in his life and he couldn't remember what Lily had done at Christmas. Had she mentioned it? Probably? But at the time it was so far out of his experience that he probably hadn't paid attention. His mother wouldn't have known what to do with one and it wasn't like his father took any interest in ensuring he had a good Christmas.

Jean had scoffed when he'd asked her, telling him not to be stupid. Stockings existed in their family to buy parents time in the morning. Hermione's hung on the end of her bed and when she was younger, she then played with the small toys in it when she woke stupidly early, therefore giving them an extra hour or two's sleep.

He hated to admit it but perhaps she was on to something. He remembered staying with the Malfoys one Christmas and Draco waking up at four and refusing to go back to sleep. He had never stayed again.

"This is…rather nice," Amelia commented sleepily, curling into his side.

He rolled his eyes but glanced around the room. Giant mugs of hot chocolate were clutched in all three children's (and Richard's) hands, as Jean attempted to fill in the parts of random explanations to Susan Hermione and Harry were missing, the dog was asleep, Amelia had apparently decided he was a pillow, the fire was on, fairy lights were still fucking everywhere. And…it was nice. He'd never had this. Ridiculous pyjamas aside. He'd never done Christmas with family unless you counted that year with Narcissa and Lucius and he fucking didn't. He had been hungover and exhausted and Draco was loud. More than that though, it had been…formal almost, dressing for dinner, pristinely wrapped gifts, and expectations of some semblance of decorum. And Draco had been four. His children were bloody teenagers and they were more visibly excited than he had been. Which was sad if he thought about it. Perhaps next year he'd invite them to this madness. It would be entertaining if nothing else. Lucius wouldn't have a fucking clue what to do with this. Perhaps he could ask Jean to get Lucius some festive pyjamas too. Piles of money wrapped in a bow, maybe? Galleons with tiny Santa hats? Something to think on.

"It's after eleven, " Amelia's voice came again, interrupting his musings, "We should probably talk those three into bed. Although Merlin knows they've had enough sugar to keep them going for hours yet."

He snorted, "Good luck."

"You're not going to help?" she asked, scandalised.

"No. I'm going to watch as you attempt to corral three sugar-dosed teenagers up the stairs like they're recalcitrant toddlers. And I'm going to laugh."

Amelia's jaw dropped. "Arse."

"Indeed," he grinned.

Jean rolled her eyes, clearly overhearing them before clearing her throat. "Time for bed. Take your stockings." All three groaned, making Jean cross her arms. "Do you want Santa to come?"

They all laughed at her, "Fine, Mum." Hermione sighed, giving in and hauling Harry to his feet.

"Good." Jean nodded, "Santa doesn't come unless you go to sleep," she warned with a small smile. Clearly, this was a yearly routine.

"I know."

"Go and say goodnight then."

"How the fuck does she do that?" Amelia muttered as the children muttered goodnights, giving hugs, which was quite frankly bizarre, when had Susan started hugging?

I don't know but it's time she gave lessons," he groused, moving to wrap Hermione in a hug. "Goodnight, my girl."

"Night, Father," she yawned as all three of them trudged up the stairs, stockings in hand. Jean smiled smugly.

"Bribery," she replied simply to Amelia's unasked question, making the other woman laugh.

The moment the door closed behind the children, Lori appeared, "Lori bes doing it," she commanded, holding out her tiny hand for…three Tesco carrier bags? What? Where the fuck had those come from. Jean definitely hadn't had those a moment ago.

"Fine," Jean sighed, "I'm too tired to argue and we all know they're not going to sleep any time soon. This one's Harry's she held up one bag, "This one's Susan's and this one's Hermione's." Lori nodded, taking the bags from her and disappearing.

"What's in them?" Amelia asked curiously. "We don't do stockings."

"So Hermione mentioned," Jean agreed, "And at this age? Little bits and pieces. It's more for tradition than anything else. Sweeties, an orange, the girls have little hair things, little bits of make-up, some stationery, some bath things and a couple of little logic puzzles because I couldn't bear not to put in some sort of toy. Harry has similar things without the makeup, boys are infinitely harder. I added some lynx and socks to his."

What the fuck was lynx? He assumed she wasn't talking about tiny animals. Although it was Jean, so who the fuck knew?

"You put animals in his stocking?" Amelia frowned. Thank Merlin for her. He wanted to know but he sure as fuck wasn't asking.

Jean frowned in confusion. "What? No! Why would you…Oh! Lynx. The universal scent of teenage boy all over the Uk. It's a body spray that makes them smell…well teenage boyish I suppose. My friend suggested it when I asked for ideas. If Harry is anything like the rest of them he'll spray enough to choke you. Apparently, it's a thing now."

"Oh," Amelia muttered faintly.

Severus snorted, whispering, "Be grateful it's not live animals." He sure as fuck was. He wouldn't put it past the woman to coerce Saul or Annalise to shrink down little live animals...or Narcissa come to think of that, she'd find it fucking hilarious.


Christmas morning found them all in the living room wrapped in dressing gowns that thankfully hid the festive bats, the adults all clutching Bailey's laced coffee. Severus silently vowed to start every day with, it was bloody amazing. If he had two, it might take the edge off his first class. Although Minerva might have something to say about that. Several somethings really, although if he was lucky it would mainly be asking where hers was and then he'd get away with it. Unfortunately, it was more likely to be questioning why he was adding alcohol to his coffee. Which was sad. It really was rather good.

The children were as excited as they had been the night before. Which was fucking exhausting. He dreaded to think what they'd been like as smaller children. And Jean in her infinite wisdom was feeding them more sugar. Giant mugs of what he assumed was hot chocolate with whipped cream were cradled in their hands. He was impressed they weren't spilling it truth be told, none of them had managed to sit still for more than thirty seconds. Possibly because of the astronomical amount of sugar Jean confessed to hiding in their stockings. Apparently, it was the one day of the year she allowed it. Hopefully, they'd crash…and nap…a nap would be lovely. It might not have been four, thank all the gods, but seven was still rather early during the holidays, and they had gone to bed late. He was going soft, he realised. He blamed Hermione. And Amelia. It was surprisingly hard to convince himself to get out of his warm bed to go for a run when there was an equally warm…and rather enticing body in it. He'd be worried about getting fat if she wasn't intent on exhausting him nightly. It was a far more pleasurable exercise than running. Which was unfortunate, because he'd bullied his children into accompanying him for his runs now and couldn't quite figure out how to back out. Amelia had all but moved in, they'd know why he wasn't running. He shuddered at the very thought. No, best to work on convincing himself running was still a good idea. After Christmas. It would be easier once they were all back at school wouldn't it?

"Alright, presents!" Richard announced with something akin to manic glee. How many coffees had the man had? Or perhaps the real question was how much bloody Baileys had he snuck into them?

Jean rolled her eyes, moving to help her husband portion out the gifts, "Go and sit down." she commanded, "Before you break something…like a hip. You're getting to that age."

Richard spluttered indignantly, "I am not that old!" he protested before turning to the children, "Tell her I'm not that old!"

All of them stifled their laughs. "You did have a long discussion with Mr Bernard next door about the weather yesterday." Hermione mused.

"And when we came over yesterday you were sleeping in front of Dad's Army." Harry continued seriously

"Oh, and you got those socks with comfort grip tops. You were scarily excited by them." Hermione chimed in.

"They're absurdly comfortable, "Richard protested mulishly. "And I've decided I don't like any of you. Other than Susan. Susan's my new. favourite child." He scowled when they all began laughing at him. "Arseholes the lot of you," he muttered.

Jean nudged a pile of presents over to him, "Do you need a hand or are you still young enough to manage to unwrap your own gifts?" she teased. "Maybe someone will have bought you more socks."

Amelia snorted as she pointed her wand and directed the piles to their owners to save Jean from getting up. It was utter carnage. There were several exclamations of delight, several thank yous thrown at random people and wrapping paper everywhere.

"Why do you all have so many sweets?" Severus muttered, watching as all three teens paused guiltily, various sweeties held in their hands.

"Ah…because we got quite a bit from different people?" Hermione offered, taking the head off a chocolate frog with brutal efficiency.

Severus sighed, "Do not vomit." his eyes zeroed in on a picture frame in her pile, "Theo wishing to remind you what he looks like?"

She flushed as both Harry and Susan giggled. "Not quite," she muttered.

He frowned, before summoning it before she could stop him as he almost choked on his own saliva. "Thoros?" he spluttered, grinning down at the picture in his hand.

"Yes," she muttered, decapitating another frog viciously.

Amelia peered over his shoulder, attempting to contain her laugh at the sight of the frame engraved with 'Best Friends', containing a picture of Hermione and Loofah in their matching dresses.

"Well….its ah…definitely unique." she spluttered.

Harry and Susan snorted, "A gift to treasure forever. At least the eggs he sent you are delicious." Harry soothed with a smirk.

"And just for that, you're not getting any more," Hermione grumbled, snatching a large bag of what looked like chocolate eggs from Harry's hand.

"Mione!" he whined, "Come on! They're caramel!"

"And you're taking the piss."

"To be fair, Sister, if someone had sent me that, you'd take the piss too! How are you going to thank him with a straight face?"

"Can't I just send a note?" she asked, sounding horrified at the thought of a face-to-face meeting.

"What did Theo send you?" Amelia checked, a grin still on her face.

"Oh, rare potions in ingredients in a box that's much too pretty for them."

He wasn't impressed with the boy. He wasn't. He refused, god damn it. He took the box she handed over, running his eyes over the contents. Fuck. How the fuck had the boy gotten hold of acromantala venom? And Graphorn Horn? Holy mother of fuck, how much had the boy spent? Goddamn it! He really didn't want to like him even a little but... but…but there were fucking dragon scales. At least six species and…was that phoenix tears? For fucks sake.

Hermine rolled her eyes at him, a knowing look on her face. "It is…sufficient," he muttered.

"Such high praise, " Harry teased.

He huffed, he wasn't going to like the boy. Even if he did want to know the name of his ingredient supplier.

"What did Neville send you, Susan?" Amelia interrupted.

Susan blushed, "Oh a hybrid plant it's…Moly crossed with a flitterbloom but it's…very alive." she giggled as the plant appeared to preen as she stroked a leaf.

"Goodness me," Amelia muttered. "It's ah…definitely interesting.

"Are all magical plants this…affectionate?" Jean asked with wide eyes as one of the leaves stroked her cheek.

"Ah, not really," Amelia replied faintly. "Perhaps ah…don't sleep near it? I'm a bit concerned it'll give you a hug during the night… around your neck…."

The children laughed like she was joking but seeing the plant send a small leaf topped vine around Jean's shoulder to stroke Richard's head, Severus wondered if perhaps the thing needed to be in a glass box. It was alarmingly sentient. What the fuck had Longbottom done to it?

They spent the morning eating their body weight in sugar before curling up on the sofa- dressed this time, Severus' had insisted, Crookshanks purring lulling them into a doze. All of them jumped at the sound of the floo as Saul tumbled out, shouting "Merry Christmas!" at the top of his voice.

"Apparently we're all old," Harry muttered wryly as he yawned.

Hermione snorted, "I refuse to admit it counts if Dad's Army isn't on." she grinned as she untangled herself from Harry and Susan and moved to hug Saul.

"Merry Christmas Uncle Saul."

"Merry Christmas to you my darling girl. Have you had a good morning?"

"Yes. Well… what we can remember anyway. I think we passed out from sugar overindulgence."

He snorted, "How all good Christmases should be spent," he declared. "Now, Who wants presents!"

He was like an oddly bouncy Santa, Severus mused as he watched Saul flit around the room dropping gifts into the hands of their recipient. His genuine delight when he received several of his own was…startling. Had he not been expecting it?

"Oh my!" Saul beamed at Hermione when several little logic puzzles and games fell onto his lap. He held up a Chinese finger trap questioningly.

Hermione grinned, "You put a finger in each end and pull."

Saul nodded, doing as he was told. The look of genuine panic on his face when his fingers remained stuck was enough to startle a laugh out of Severus.

"Don't be an arse!" Saul demanded, sounding unsure. "How the fuck do I escape this thing?"

"Relax," Hermione grinned.

"I am relaxed," He insisted shrilly. Biting back her laughter, she pushed his fingers together, allowing him to remove them. "Oh," he muttered. "I don't think I like that one. But perhaps I could use it on people who are irritating me. What's this thing?" he asked, holding up a tiled picture of a reindeer.

"Oh, look." Hermione took it from him, muddling the tiles. "You have to make it a picture again."

"Oh! That's rather clever. Although…later perhaps. There is only so much bashing my ego can take and I fear your father will dent it thoroughly if I don't get it. Are there instructions with the rest of these?"

"Isn't that my job?" Severus checked as Hermione reassured him that there were.

"No." Saul muttered before he grinned at Hermione, "Is this your way of telling me to move on from the little cube?"

She laughed, "No but you were so excited by it that I thought you might like some other options."

"Oh and I do! But I think I'll test them in the privacy of my own home. That way no one will notice when it takes me hours to work them out. Now, what's this one?"

"I believe it's customary to open it." Hermione smiled.

"What in the name of Merlin is Cluedo?" Saul asked, looking bewildered.

"It's a board game, there was a murder, and you have to work out who did it, where and with what, by gathering clues."

"Oh!" Saul looked intrigued, "You'll play?"

"Of course."

"Mine next!" Harry insisted with a grin.

Gingerly Saul reached for the parcel he indicated to, letting out what could only be called a squeal of delight at the sight of his very own water gun and a pack of balloons.

"Did you have to?" Severus groaned.

"Yes," Harry nodded emphatically. "Be grateful it wasn't the twin's prototype."

Saul looked up visibly intrigued as Hermione leaned in and whispered, "We'll get you one when they're done."

"No! You will not!" Severus commanded, "The man is a menace without the Weasley twin's influence!"

All of them laughed. He wasn't fucking joking. It was wise to have a healthy dose of fear when dealing with the Weasley twins and adding Saul into the mix was a recipe for utter disaster. Not that they were taking his warning seriously. He could tell. Was it too soon for another laced coffee? Surely not.

Half an hour later, Saul had them sat on the floor in teams of two, with Cluedo on the coffee table. He wasn't sure it was fair. Jean had commandeered Susan, and Richard had Harry. Saul had snagged Hermione, leaving him and Amelia together. Which was lovely but he'd never actually played the game and he had no idea what they were doing.

"How does this work?" Amelia muttered.

"I have no idea!" he hissed back, eying his little bit of paper and tiny pencil with distrust.

They lost spectacularly, Hermione and Jean running rings around them much to Saul's delight.

"They have more like this?" he checked.

"Oh my, yes. There are loads of muggle board games." Jean assured him.

"Monopoly," Richard suggested with a twinkle.

"Absolutely not!" Hermione cut in. "The last time we played Mum threatened to divorce you after you almost broke the glass in the kitchen door with how hard you slammed it"

Saul's eyes widened, "Is it…a violent game?" he hedged.

"Only when it's played right," Richard responded, making Jean and Hermione groan.

"Game of life?" Jean suggested before Richard could open his mouth again.

"Oh, we could do that." Hermione agreed. "Go for broke probably isn't contentious."

Jean hummed, "Next time" she promised Saul. "We'll bring a selection. What time are Lucius and Narcissa getting here?"

"Any time from now," Severus replied, glancing at the clock. "Your grandmother owled earlier, I meant to say. She's coming tomorrow."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "That will be interesting. Tonks was going to pop in too."

Severus groaned, "No! I forbid it!"

"Too late," she singsonged, "It's done I've agreed, it'd be rude to back out now."

"Do you hate me, my girl?" he groaned.

"Of course not, Father." she scoffed, "I love you. I'm still not uninviting her."

He narrowed his eyes as he wondered if he could change the wards to refuse her entry. He could, couldn't he? Although Andy might have something to say about it. Andy and Hermione. He shuddered at the very thought.

"Merry Christmas!" Draco's voice rang out from the floo, preventing the argument from continuing as he burst into the room, his eyes slightly manic.

Narcissa and Lucius trailed him slightly more sedately. "Draco sit down before you break something," Lucus commanded as Draco flitted about the room handing out parcels.

He pouted but did as he was told. "That is the last time I agree to let you eat whatever you want," Narcissa muttered as Draco tore into the gifts in front of him.

Severus snorted, "At least those three napped."

"Napped?" Narcissa frowned, "Are you toddlers?"

"Apparently today they are," Jean laughed, "Too much sugar at breakfast and they crashed."

"Merlin let's hope that happens soon then," Lucius muttered as all four teenagers gradually got louder and louder. "How early is too early for firwewhiskey?

Severus glanced at the clock, "Definitely not too early," he muttered.

"Oi!" Jean shouted, startling them all, "Do you four have a volume control?"

Hermione and Harry flushed as Draco and Susan looked confused, "Sorry mum," Hermione muttered, nudging Draco with a roll of her eyes, "She's telling us to be quiet!"

"Oh!" he flushed, "Sorry."

Jean laughed, "I swear you're all more excitable now than I remember Hermione being as a child."

They shrugged in unison, it was fucking eerie. "Hermione?" Draco frowned his eyes on the mantlepiece. "Is that…is your dad wearing Christmas bats?"

He was definitely going for the fucking firewhiskey now. How the fuck had Jean managed to put that up without him fucking noticing? And now Lucius and Narcissa were looking at the photo with interest. For fucks sake. This family thing was far more embarrassing than he had realised.


"Lord Fawley bees arriving," Nyx interrupted their breakfast the next morning. Harry shot Hermione a look.

"Did you know he was coming?"

She shook her head, "I should have expected it though, you know what Grandmother is like."

Susan hummed, "Did you ever reply to him?"

"He wrote?" Severus interjected sharply. How the fuck had he missed that?

"At the end of November, and no. I…I wasn't sure what to say." she murmured as her Grandparents walked into the room.

"Hello Darlings," Annalise beamed.

"Grandmother," Harry and Hermione chirruped back.

"Lady Fawley," Susan murmured.

"Annalise, dear," Annalise chided, making Suan flush.

"Lord Prince," Simon bobbed his head sharply, before hesitating, "Children."

"Lord Fawley," they chorused, watching him warily.

"Might I have a word, Hermione?"

He watched as his daughter froze. Fuck. Nothing good was coming of this, was it? Bloody interfering witch that Annalise was.

"Very well," Hermione murmured.

"Do you want…company, my girl?" he offered softly. She paused, clearly mulling it over before nodding. That surprised him. He felt sure she'd refuse. Fuck. She was clearly more unsettled by this than he realised.

"The study then," he replied, wondering what the fuck he was going to do with this.

"We'll be here," Annalise smiled encouragingly before engaging Harry and Susan in conversation.

"I owled you," Simon began looking unsure. It wasn't a look he'd ever seen on the man.

"I know." Hermine agreed, her hand gripping his tightly "I ah…wasn't quite sure what to say."

He hummed. "I should never have married your grandmother."

"Pardon?" Hermione frowned.

"It ah…we don't see Arnold Diggory often. My parents were…adamant that the match go ahead despite neither of us particularly wanting it."

"I thought it was a blood-bound contract?"

"It was." he agreed, "And that…makes it challenging to break. They refused to even consider trying."

"Poor Grandmother," she whispered, Simon flinched.

"Indeed. I…I do not think I have ever seen her so happy as she is when she is with him."

Hermione nodded, her eyes slightly glassy. For fucks sake. She was going to bloody cry, wasn't she? At least he was wearing an Amelia and Hermione approved outfit, his shirt buttons were covered by a jumper and it was loose enough that it wasn't going to strangle him when it shrunk. Giving in he wrapped an arm around her shoulders as the first tear began tracking down her face. Simon looked quite frankly terrified.

"You cannot change the past, my girl" he murmured.

"It doesn't make it any less sad." she protested. "Did you ever… consider someone else"?

Simon looked back at her startled, "I very much doubt you'd believe me." he muttered.

Hermione stilled next to him, "Try me." He had to admit he was intrigued. He had no idea Simon had ever had feelings for anyone.

"Pomona Sprout," he muttered. Fuck. There was no fucking way. Pomona Sprout and….Simon Falwley? Good gods.

"Wow," Hermione muttered, "I wasn't expecting that."

"No one ever does." Simon agreed with a small smirk. "Had she been pureblood my parents might have considered it. As it was…."

"Professor Sprouts not a pureblood?" Hermione asked.

"No. Halfblood."

"Ah. I sort of just assumed…Sprout teaching herbology seems like some bizarre coincidence the wizarding world likes…"

"Indeed, " Simon agreed, "Her father's line boasts several skilled herbologists, her mother, however, was muggleborn."

"Oh…do you still see her?"

"No. it's…difficult, even now."

"You're the reason she never married?" Severus blurted, unable to stop himself.

"I honestly have no idea. As I said, I have not seen Pomona for years, the night before my wedding to be exact."

"Could you not…." Hermione hesitated, "Is there no way out of it now?"

Simon looked vaguely horrified, "But the scandal!"

"You're both miserable!" Hermione protested. "Is that really how you want to spend the rest of your life?"

"It is the way of things, "Simon sighed.

"Then why were you so determined that I be forced into a contract?"

He flinched, "It is the way of things," he repeated. "I…I think I forgot what happy looked like until I saw your grandmother and Diggoy at that damn ball. I…was perhaps…shortsighted."

Hermione nodded slowly, "What do you want from me?"

"To get to know you. Despite how we appear, I do actually speak to your grandmother. She is...so very proud of you and I find myself regretting that I do not know you."

"Will you stop with all this pureblood nonsense? If nothing else I am not pureblood."

"You're not far off," he protested.

"I still have muggle parents."

He winced, "Yes. It would appear that your grandmother is…fond of them."

"I won't give them up."

"So I've been warned."

She hummed, "I will….agree to write to you. But, the first time you are rude to or about my parents, I will stop. Harry is another non-negotiable. He is my brother. Literally, we have a sealed sibling bond."

Simon nodded, not looking entirely sure. "Very well."

"Now tell me about Voldemort?"

Simon flinched and Severus had to hide his smirk. Gods he loved this girl. "I…what do you wish to know?"

"What were you thinking?"

"I was…angry, for a very long time. He…was able to channel that. I…I cannot say I do not believe purebloods are superior. I do but perhaps his methods were not ideal.

"Mass genocide and hunting a baby?"

Simon visibly stiffened. "Quite," he responded shortly.

"Do you truly believe you're better than me…Father, Professor Sprout?"

Simon froze, frowning, "I…no."

"But that was his belief."

"I must admit to not having considered it too closely," he admitted with a small frown.

"What about muggleborns?"

"Do I think I am superior to them?"

"Yes."

"Well…yes. They know nothing of our world, they pose a major security risk and they refuse to conform to our traditions."

"Has it crossed your mind that no one teaches them?"

"What?" Simon stared back at her, clearly confused.

"Neither Harry nor I had any idea of all the things that go on behind the scenes until Aunt Cissa and Father taught us. It was never mentioned. How were we meant to know? Hogwarts doesn't teach it, no one warns us that there are books we should read, questions we should ask."

"I….I…." Simon floundered, "I have no idea," he finally admitted. "I have never considered it like that."

"No. No one ever does," she muttered.

"You intend to change it?" Simon asked with interest.

"We've already started." Hermione's smile was terrifying, "Tonks should be here soon to discuss some things.

"Tonks?"

"Oh, Aunt Cissa's niece, Nymphadora Tonks."

"I see." he murmured. "I…would you be open to sharing your ideas?" Severus arched a brow, he had to give him credit, the man was trying.

"I could. Perhaps you could join our discussion."

Very well." Simon agreed, "How are things with young Mr Nott?"

"Alright," Hermione hedged."We're…seeing how things go."

Severus watched as Simon visibly held himself back from commenting on that. "I see. And the other girl here?"

"Susan? She's Amelia Bones' niece. Father and Amelia are….also seeing how things go?" she smirked.

"Would you prefer us bound in a contract, my girl?" he asked lightly.

"Well, I do hope she'll at least ask Harry and me for permission before she proposes," Hermione shot back.

Severus felt a genuine jolt of fear at the very thought. "What?" he asked. Fuck did his voice just squeak? Fuck, fucking hell! He liked the witch but marriage? No, absolutely not. He wasn't ready for that! A wife? He was still trying to come to terms with the fact he had children. Without adding in another one and wife!

Fuck Hermione was laughing at him. Even bloody Simon looked amused. "Father…Susan has moved in for the holidays, Amelia might as well have. What…where did you think this was heading?"

"I…I don't know!" he retorted, sounding panicked even to his own ears.

Hermione sighed. Actually fucking sighed at him. "Father. I swear to Merlin you are hopeless."

"I'm not ready to get married!"

"And no one is saying that it has to happen right now. But…surely you've at least considered it? Susan is here for the holidays! Amelia hasn't spent a night at home since we came here!"

"No!" He exclaimed, "I…fuck. Is that what this means?"

"Well no…but…eventually, surely?"

He stared back at her in horror. "Does everyone think that?"

"Well….I have no idea about Amelia but mum promised Susan she could come and stay with us for the duration of your honeymoon," she replied impishly. "And Aunt Cissa mentioned that the Manor gardens are lovely at the beginning of summer.

Severus spluttered. "Perhaps a conversation for another time," Simon suggested, attempting to bite back the smile that looked foreign on his face. He couldn't even fucking enjoy how odd he looked because apparently everyone was conspiring to marry him off. Including his fucking children! What the actual fuck? How had he missed that? What the fuck were they all thinking? Was Amelia thinking it too? Fuck. How exactly did one ask that without it sounding like he was considering it? He needed a fucking drink. Now.

It took several minutes for him to calm himself down. "I do not think I like you anymore my girl," he muttered.

"Don't be absurd father, you love me."

"Remind me why?" he asked sardonically

"Because I'm wonderful." she grinned, making Simon do that strange twisting of his face again. He assumed it was meant to be a smile. Perhaps he was just out of practice?

"Shall we rejoin everyone? Before Nymphadora appears?"

"Anyone would think you were excited to see her Father," Hermione teased.

"The sooner she's here, the sooner she leaves," he shot back. And the sooner they stopped discussing his marriage like it was a fucking foregone conclusion! Good gods, he was never doing another fucking family Christmas again. He wouldn't fucking survive it.