Chapter I

Although he had never had his head on the receiving end of a dagger before, Severus felt a sudden rush of sympathy for anyone who had. He was hungover, most obviously and undeniably so, possibly more than he had been for several years. He probably shouldn't have drunk quite as much as he had done, but currently shifting the blame to the Ministry for that was more than a little tempting. With all their pompous blathering, the damn fools would probably have him a card-carrying alcoholic before the year was out.

One hand clasped to his head to alleviate the spinning, Severus rolled over to grope for the phial he kept on beside his bed. Quickly fumbling the stopper loose with unsteady fingers, he downed its contents swiftly, and decided that, without a doubt, the best thing to do was to go back to sleep. He had great confidence in his self-brewed potion; clear-headedness was all but guaranteed upon waking the second time around. Tentatively, he rolled back over to get himself comfortable once more and--

He received the most terrible shock of his entire existence.

Oh, no -- this could not be possible! This was a cruel, drink-induced hallucination – a delusion, a dream more horrid than any nightmare that had ever plagued his sleep. Screwing his eyes shut, Severus fought to rid himself of the phantasm. This wasn't real – it couldn't be.

Slowly, summoning up all reserves of courage, he peaked beneath his eyelids only to have his hope smashed. Lupin was still there, and a quick glance underneath the sheets confirmed Severus worse fears: they were both naked.

Panic engulfed him. The hazy mess that was the previous night started to swim about in his head, spewing images upon him that he had no desire to behold. How could he have allowed this to happen? Covering his face with an arm, Severus groaned and tried to will order to the barrage of memories.

A wisp of a memory began to form. The pouring of alcohol, the chinking of glasses; Severus bristled at the implication of that.

He had offered Lupin a drink? That, in itself, was absurd. Whatever had possessed him to do such a thing? What was the werewolf doing in his chambers in the first place?

Something else started to stir. Severus groaned again. Yes, that was it - the potion. Lupin had come to enquire about his potion. It would be ready on time, Severus had snapped. Just like every bloody month.

Whatever happened next was foggy; Severus dared not dwell upon it. How drinks had come to be shared he was certain he did not know. Clearly, he must have been quite drunk by this stage – all other explanation were ludicrous.

Cringing, Severus fought against the first forming memories of what all this must have lead to. Terrible, fragmented flashes assaulted him: lips upon furious lips, hands groping and teasing. Severus remembered soft, eager moans rising from deep within. He felt suddenly sick.

"This is absurd!" he thought to himself. The very idea that he would sleep with Lupin under any circumstances wouldn't even be suggested by a madman. True, for an impoverished middle-aged werewolf, Lupin was not unattractive, but there was only so far looks would go. In Lupin's case, they most certainly did not lead into the bed of Severus Snape.

He had no time to contemplate what to do next before Lupin began to stir. Waking, he blinked groggily for a moment. There was a strong note of discomfort in the disorientation that fell over his face.

"Severus – I – what," he stumbled, then quickly clamped a hand to his head. "Ouch."

Were Lupin not sharing his bed, Severus would have gained great pleasure from his blatant pain. As it was, the situation was too abysmal for humour, even at the werewolf's expense.

Recovering a little, Lupin, too, risked a glance beneath the sheets. "Oh God! Severus, we didn't--"

"It rather appears we did, Lupin." The evidence was too damning for him to deny anything. He shifted in the bed, drawing the sheets closer around his naked body. Shockingly, he realised he was more than a little sore, his body feeling abused in ways he hadn't been familiar with for a very long time. This brought him to another horrific conclusion: he had allowed Lupin to take him.

Lupin groaned. "Oh God. I can't believe--"

"Just shut up and get out," Severus snapped.

Lupin looked more than a touch ill as he nodded. "Er, yes -- of course," he said, slipping from the bed. One hand still clutched at his head while the other did its best to keep him unexposed. "May I use your shower?"

"No."

"Fine," Lupin said briskly, stooping to detangle his robes from the heap of garments on the floor. He pulled them on over his head, unsteadily. "Fine – I'll be going."

Severus grunted.

Rolling over to put his back to the scene, Severus thought that sounded like the best idea Lupin had had in the whole of his pitiful existence. Moments later, upon hearing the bedchamber door click shut, he swore to himself that he would not touch alcohol again.

For the next few days, Severus waited in terror for Lupin to appear in his office proclaiming "we need to talk about the other night", or some similar nonsense. Naturally, he had his strategy of defence planned out to the last detail. Not wanting to waste his words, he would kindly inform Lupin that the issue was not open for discussion; if he was he was under any illusion that it was, he was most likely rabid and should be put down at the closest possible convenience. With any luck, the werewolf would get the message, but if all else failed Severus was more than prepared to hex him into the following week.

A week passed, however, and no such event occurred. The only sign Severus received that Lupin had, unfortunately, not died in some obliging ditch was the fact that the goblet of Wolfsbane potion he left at Headquarters each evening was gone by morning. With a satisfied smirk, he recalled reading that the potion was reputably one of the foulest tasting ever invented.

As another week passed, he found his tension beginning to ease. That was at least until Professor McGonagall turned up in his office one morning to announce his presence was required at a full Order meeting. Immediately, he felt a headache coming on and by the time he had taken the Portkey to Grimmauld Place with McGonagall and the headmaster he felt as if his brain was about trying to splice itself in two. A queasy sensation gripped his stomach.

By midday, the majority of the Order of the Phoenix were gathered in the parlour of the old Black family residence. Spotting Lupin perched on a stool in one corner, Severus quickly sought out the seat the furthest away he could possibly get. Removing his cloak, he slung it over the back of his chair and sat down.

Proceedings began quickly and progressed smoothly, but Severus could not concentrate. His stomach continued to churn and he was exceedingly grateful he had forgone breakfast. Sinking deeper into his chair, he permitted himself to admit he had been feeling slightly off colour for a couple of days. Nothing major: a little light-headed and a little sick. More than likely it was just virus he would shake off within a day or so. In the meantime he probably had bottle of something to suppress the symptoms. He had no patience with the inconvenience of illness.

The meeting drew to a close a short while after one. Those present began to file out of the room, some discussing issues that had been raised over the last hour, others chatting about more trivial matters. He overheard that insufferable Tonks girl bickering with Shacklebolt about a recent foul committed by the Wigtown Wanderers.

"Yes, but if Hedley had only listened to his Keeper," she said animatedly. "There would have been no problem at all."

Groaning inwardly, Severus cast a quick glance around the room and found only a handful people remaining. Molly Weasley cleared away the coffee while her husband stood talking to Moody and rocking back and forth on his heels. He saw Lupin, still perched on his stool, in conversation with Dumbledore. Catching Severus' eye, the headmaster turned.

"Are you ready to leave, Severus?" he asked. "Minerva is waiting downstairs with the return Portkey."

Severus nodded and stood quickly. Too quickly. His vision greyed; his sore head pounded as it drained of blood. Wavering on his feet, he reached out to balance himself on the wall.

"Severus, are you alright?"

Severus looked up to see both Dumbledore and Lupin staring at him. Lupin's mouth has fallen open slightly. Scowling, he silently damned them both to hell both simply for being present.

"Yes, headmaster," he lied, clenching his teeth tightly. "Shall we go?"

"Severus, all the colour has drained from your face," Dumbledore said. A bazaar mix of concern and intrigue flashed briefly in his eyes. "Perhaps you should back sit down, or even take a lie down, if you are not feeling well enough to travel."

Sliding from his stool, Lupin approached them. "You may take one of the spare bed rooms for an hour or so if you'd rather head back to Hogwarts later."

"I said I'm fine," Severus hissed. If the werewolf thought he was going to lie down anywhere with in a one hundred mile radius of him he was very much mistaken.

"Very well. If you are sure--" Dumbledore regarded him sceptically for a second then nodded. "Let us depart."

Severus swept from the room leaving Dumbledore to bid Lupin goodbye. Downstairs, he found McGonagall waiting in the hall, holding a tattered paperback novel. The prospect of travelling by Portkey at present was far from appealing, but given the alternative was to remain behind, with Lupin lurking around, he decided it was worth the discomfort. Back at Hogwarts, perhaps he would take a brief lie down, not that his dignity would allow him admit it to Dumbledore. The last thing he needed was the old wizard knowing he was feeling ill and making a fuss.

The headmaster joined them after a few moments and took the return Portkey from his deputy.

"Are we ready? Twenty seconds to go."

He held out the book and McGonagall grasped hold of it between thumb and fingers. Taking a deep breath to prepare himself, Severus followed her lead and waited. After only a moment, the world lurched suddenly from beneath his feet with that familiar hooking sensation behind his navel. A wave of nausea washed over and engulfed him. Barely before his feet hit solid ground again, he stumbled forward, doubling over as his stomach emptied itself onto the entrance hall floor.

So much for dignity.

"Oh dear, Severus. Perhaps you should pay a visit to Poppy."

Whipping his mouth on the sleeve of his robes, Severus straightened up and glared at the headmaster. "I think not," he said. Casting a quick charm on the floor, he made to leave before either he or McGonagall could utter another word. This was, of course, far too much to hope for.

"Severus, you seem to be rather unwell." Dumbledore regarded him with a concerned eye. "You should allow Poppy to--"

"No."

"I am afraid I cannot take no for an answer, Severus. You know we need you in good health. Perhaps I should escort you to the Infirmary. Are you still a little unsteady on your feet?"

"No, Headmaster," Severus lied through his gritted teeth. "I will take myself there. Thank you for your concern."

"As you wish," Dumbledore replied. He smiled kindly and then added, "Minerva and I are having afternoon tea around four o'clock. If you are feeling better, I hope you will join us. Good day, Severus."

Severus graced the headmaster with a curt nod as he turned to depart. Making his way up the main stairs, Severus placed a hand over his unsettled stomach. "Thank you so much for that little display," he growled.

It being the school holidays, Hogwarts' Infirmary was devoid of patients. That, Severus thought, was perhaps one thing he could be grateful for. Given that students spread gossip like dogs spread fleas, Severus was without a doubt that, had this been term time, the whole school would have found out that he was ill with in a matter of minutes. He wasn't sure he could live the indignity down.

At the sound of the Infirmary door opening, Madame Pomfrey scuttled out of her office. "Good afternoon, Professor," she said brightly, stirring Severus' nausea. "How may I be of assistance?"

"I am unwell," Severus stated immediately, decided it best to get straight to the point. He clung weakly to the hope that he might get this over with quickly and painlessly. "Nausea, vomiting, dizziness and a blinding headache. I have come for a check up on the headmaster's orders."

Pomfrey nodded. "Very well," she said. "Pop yourself up on one of the beds for a lie down while I get my wand. A few tests should tell us what is wrong and what I can do for you."

She disappeared back into here office. Severus took the bed nearest the door. Lying back, he folded his arms squarely across his chest, one hand straying downwards to sooth his stomach. He despised hospitals, loathed the way they made him feel weak and without autonomy. If he didn't have to set foot it one again for the rest of his life it would be too soon.

A clip-clopping of heels on the linoleum floor alerted him to Pomfrey's return. "Already lying down I see, Professor. That's a good start. This will only take a moment." Rolling up her sleeves, the nurse pulled out her wand from the pocket of her apron and held it above his head, muttering a spell beneath her breath. Severus felt a tingling warmth spread down his spine as she chased the charm downwards, finally stopping with her wand held just above his navel. She frowned.

"Curious," she said. "From the symptoms you described I rather fancied you had a virus, but I can't find evidence of any kind of pathogen at all. It must be something else. Some thing you ate, perhaps. Do you have any allergies, Professor?"

Severus shook his head. It seemed this was going to take longer than he hoped.

"Any chance that you have been poisoned?"

"I doubt it."

"Hmm, well, it may be worth investigating anyway," Pomfrey suggested. "It's quite a simple procedure involving--"

"A blood analysis potion."

"Well, yes." The nurse at least had the decency to look sheepish; Severus took a perverse pleasure from this. "Well, I suppose you could do that yourself, but since you are here...."

"Be my guest." He waved his hand absently and Pomfrey hurried off to her store-cupboard. While he thought it highly unlikely that he had been poisoned, Severus reluctantly resigned to the fact that he should probably play it safe. Sitting up, he folded back his right sleeve in anticipation of the procedure and waited. Pomfrey returned from her office a few moments later, a bottle of a milky-white potion in one hand and a syringe in the other. Severus felt a fresh wave of nausea wash over him at the sight.

"This will only take a moment," Pomfrey assured, setting the bottle down on the bedside table and unscrewing the lid. Dipping the syringe into it, she drew up a little of its contents before turning to Severus. Severus looked away, disgusted at himself for doing so but not feeling as if he could stomach watching, and waited. He felt one of Pomfrey's cold hands grasp his right elbow firmly and her thumb rub at a vein. A second later, the needle breeched his skin.

"I'll be as quick as I--" Pomfrey muttered. "There -- all done. You can look now."

Severus looked up to find the nurse holding the syringe up to the light, examining it. His blood had turned the potion a murky pink inside the glass; a diagnosis formed on the outside. Squinting, he read:

"Significant hormonal imbalance; no indication of poisoning."

"'Significant hormonal imbalance!'" he implored with a snort. "What am I, pregnant?"

Pomfrey frowned, lowering the syringe and setting it aside. "That is one possibility."

"One poss-? Preposterous! I am male,Pomfrey!"

"Male pregnancy is rare but not undocumented," Pomfrey said softly, shaking her head. "But you're right: it is highly unlikely. This imbalance is probably no more than the result of stress; though of course --- Professor, have you had unprotected sexual intercourse recently?"

Severus scowled darkly. "I hardly think that is any of your business."

"I am only trying to establish whether it would be worth running a pregnancy test, Professor. Just to be certain. You know anything you disclose is entirely confidential, so if you could just--"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I have had unprotected sexual intercourse recently, so just run the infernal test." Severus gritted his teeth. The sooner she did, he figured, the sooner she would come to her senses. He suppressed the urge to laugh at the ridiculous notion that he had been impregnated by--

Dear God – that was too terrible to consider.

Pomfrey hurried to her office again and returned with an empty glass jar. She handed to him. "You need to urinate in this," she said, wisely avoiding his gaze as she pulled the screen around his bed and stepped away. "Take your time. When you are ready, bring it to me."

Sitting alone on the edge of the bed, Severus regarded the jar disdainfully. Thankfully, his bladder was reasonably full and he wouldn't be delayed further by having to wait for nature to call. Grimacing, he flung up his robes, unbuttoned his trousers, and began to fill the jar without trying to think about it too much. This day, he concluded, could get no worse. That was, of course, unless this ridiculous test turned out to be positive, a notion he dismissed immediately. Like the woman said, it was just stress.

And who could blame him for being stressed?

After buttoning up his trousers and washing his hands in the basin by the bed, he carefully picked up the jar and made his way around the screen. Within her office, Pomfrey sat at her desk, another bottle of potion standing in front of her. Severus recognised his own handwriting on the label.

"Come in and take a seat, Professor." The nurse nodded towards a spare chair in the corner of her office. "This will only take minute. Your sample?"

Severus handed her the jar but did not sit. Remaining in the doorway, he watched as Pomfrey drew a small amount of the potion into a glass pipette. Gently, so as not to spill any of its contents, she moved the pipette to the jar of urine and emptied it out. The potion hissed and smoked a little on contact; the two fluids began to mix non-eventfully. A satisfied smirk crept onto Severus' face for a second. He was about to turn to leave when a terrible sight stole the breath from his chest.

A bright blue precipitate was forming on the sample's surface.

"No!"

Pomfrey leaned heavily back in her chair, aghast. "Oh my, Professor."

"Run the test again!" Severus demanded. "There has to be some mistake."

"Professor, I--" Pomfrey's eyes fell upon the potion bottle. Following her gaze, Severus looked once more to the label he had written. Two words jumped out at him, viciously: 'completely accurate'.

Suddenly, sitting down didn't seem like such a bad idea after all. Collapsing into the spare chair, Severus held his head in his hands for a moment, before running his fingers back though his hair and looking up, eyes pleading with Pomfrey to say that there had been some mistake.

She held his gaze, mouth open. "My God -- I'm so sorry."

She stood abruptly and turned to the fireplace. Grabbing a handful of Floo powder, she flung it into the grate.

"Albus, there's something you need to see"

"No! Don't get the headmaster!" Severus spoke too late; a spinning figure had already appeared in the fireplace. A mere second later, Albus Dumbledore stepped into the small room, gently brushing soot from his robes. Little specks stippled his white hair and beard.

"What may I do for you, Poppy?" he greeted brightly. "And Severus! How are you--" He cut off abruptly mid-sentence as his eyes fell to the test. "My goodness!"

Severus buried his head in his hands once more, fingertips digging into his scalp as he prayed for the floor to open greedily and swallow him up. A hand was laid on his shoulder, making him flinch, but he could not look up. If he did not, perhaps this nightmare would disappear.

"Severus, look at me." He felt Dumbledore crouched down beside him. "I must ask you something."

Slowly and reluctantly, twisting his head in his hands, Severus turned to face the headmaster. He tried not to look him in the eyes nor ponder his expression. He felt too ashamed to know what thoughts were presently going though the man's mind.

"Severus, this is very important," Dumbledore continued. "When did you conceive?"

Severus closed his eyes and tried to recover his tongue. "A week last Saturday," he whispered, finally.

"You are sure?"

He nodded, certain of it. It had been the night following the Ministry meeting that Lupin and he had drunkenly stumbled into bed with each other and, beside that one catastrophic event, his life had been empty of sexual activity for more years than he cared to recall. There was no question that this could have happened any other night or, he realised with a sickening jolt, that anyone else but the werewolf could be responsible for his condition.

A/N: Many thanks to those of you who reviewed the prologue. Feedback is always welcome.

Another huge thank you Sparkler for the beta.