Chapter II

"Take a few sips of this."

Severus started out of his reverie and looked up. In his hands, the headmaster extended a dainty china cup out to him.

"Sweet tea," he explained. "For the shock. I would offer you something stronger, but I am not certain that would be wise, given your condition."

Severus winced inwardly before shakily taking the beverage offered to him. Oh yes, he thought, his condition: this dreadful thing that was supposedly dwelling and growing inside him this very minute, leeching off of him. Every part of his mind currently desired only one thing: to put an end to this absurdity; he had every intention of telling the headmaster so as soon as he found his tongue. The very idea that he would carry the child to term - Lupin's child no less - was unthinkable. There was no question in his mind that it would have to be terminated as soon as possible.

The headmaster settled down behind his desk, his fingers steepled before his chest and regarding Severus carefully. "I expect this must be a bit of a surprise to you," he said.

Severus snorted as he sipped the disgustingly sugary tea. That had to take the award for understatement of the century. A bit of a surprise, indeed!

"It is a surprise for me too, Severus," Dumbledore continued. "I was not aware that you were involved. I hope your partner will be happy with the news."

Severus frowned. "There is no such person," he said darkly. "I – it was a one night stand and this-" he waved a hand vaguely at his stomach "-Is definitely not wanted." He had never thought the headmaster such a naïve old fool that he believed his faculty immune the lure of random sexual acts. Clearly, he had misjudged.

Dumbledore sunk back into his chair and dropped his hands to his lap with a despondent sigh. "I was afraid you were going to say that," he said. "It changes everything, Severus, and proves for a rather complicated situation."

"I fail to see what is complicated about it, headmaster," Severus replied. "Just discretely get a Healer from St. Mungo's and allow him to perform--"

Dumbledore cut him off. "I am afraid that termination would be an unwise course of action, Severus. If I am correct in my thinking, it will be essential for you to carry your offspring to term."

Severus scowled angrily. "And why is that, headmaster?" he demanded. "Is it because I'm a wizard? I admit I know extremely little about the phenomena of male pregnancy, but surely..."

The headmaster shook his head. "A wizard can have a pregnancy terminated in much the same way as a witch can," he explained. "But there is something else; there is something that I believe will make it vital that you keep the child developing within you.

"Tell me Severus, do you know there are only two circumstances under which one wizard can bear child of another? Do you know what they are?"

"I do not," Severus said, with an eyebrow arched. His fingers curled tightly around the cup in his hands. Surely the headmaster could see how ridiculous the notion of allowing this pregnancy to continue was? "Pray – enlighten me."

He received only a soft smile for his consternation. "I will," Dumbledore said. "The first is that if the two wizards are in a loving, stable relationship, normally of many years, a child may spontaneously and magically be conceived; some couples use potions and charms to increase their chances of conceiving in such a manner. There have been a handful-documented accounts of unusual form of procreation within the last few decades, but the phenomena is still not very well understood. Of course, we have already discounted this, but a good knowledge of ones situation is always wise, I am sure you will agree."

Severus sniffed, but said nothing.

"The second is that conception may occur if the child is in someway... needed," the headmaster continued. "This has always been a controversial subject, and hence highly under researched, but never fully discredited."

Severus' forehead knitted together in yet another frown. This whole conversation was too surreal. "I am not sure I follow," he admitted. "What do you mean, sir, by 'needed'? What does this have to do with my... condition?"

"Everything." Dumbledore held Severus' gaze over the top of his glasses; his face turned serious very suddenly. "I think," he said, rising carefully from behind his desk, "It will be best if I show you."

Severus watched as the headmaster drew his wand from his sleeve and placed the tip of it to his temple. Turning to the cabinet behind him, he drew a shimmering, silver fibre from his head. His wand extended, Dumbledore's thought strands dripped softly into the swirling depths of the Pensieve that sat waiting. They became lost within it. From his stand beside the headmaster's desk, Fawkes the phoenix observed the goings on with a beady eye, his delicate, feathered head cocked to one side.

"A couple of weeks ago," Dumbledore said, stepping back. "Minerva informed me of something most curious she had observed. I think perhaps you should have a look for yourself. In here." He nodded to the Pensieve.

"Very well." Confused, Severus rose and took a tentative step forward. Glancing over his shoulder, he threw the headmaster a questioning look, only to receive an encouraging nod.

The contents of the Pensive swirled wildly like wind-whipped fog. Kneeling down in front of the cabinet, Severus drew in a deep, sharp breath. Curious, yet apprehensive, he lowered his face towards the depths and felt an icy breeze upon his skin. As he watched the fog become more erratic, a half-formed scene swam before his eyes. With a sudden rush of courage, he plunged his face into the Pensieve.

At first, he thought nothing had happened. He was still in Dumbledore's office and the headmaster was sitting behind his desk. Then he noticed they were not alone. Behind him, on the chair he had just vacated, sat Professor McGonagall, nibbling on one of her infernal shortbreads.

"I'm almost certain of it, Albus," she said. "You should have seen her. It was like she was in some kind of trance and afterward, when I questioned her about it, she had no idea what I was talking about."

The headmaster raised a pair of bushy white eyebrow. "You believe she was making a prediction?" he asked. "A true one, I mean."

McGonagall nodded, brushing crumbs from her robes. "It must sound absurd, coming from me, but I am almost certain of it."

Severus wandered around the desk to stand behind the headmaster. His eyes falling upon McGonagall, he saw her face solid with conviction. She looked up and for a moment, before remembering that was impossible, he believed her to be staring directly at him; she was simply gazing into middle-distance.

"Her eyes had rolled back into her head," she continued in a soft, contemplative voice. "I thought she was having some kind of fit, but she just kept on speaking -- blathering on about some saviour child." She shook her head. "No, not blathering," she corrected. "It seemed quite real."

Dumbledore clasped his hands together in front of him and lend forward in his chair. "My dear Minerva," he said, softly. His eyes shone keenly behind his spectacles. "I think you should perhaps start at the very beginning. Tell me everything."

McGonagall nodded and drew a breath before plunging into her story. Perched on the side of the headmaster's desk, Severus listened aghast as she recalled the whole incident. She spoke nervously, each word added haltingly to the last as if she were building up a tale she knew too incredible to support itself. Severus trained his eyes on the headmaster, waiting to catch some change of expression on the old man's face. It didn't come. A wave of disbelief and panic rolled over him and settled uncomfortably in his queasy stomach.

"That will do," the headmaster said when McGonagall had finished, sounding a little distant. She didn't seem to hear him.

"That will do."

A hand rested on his shoulder and Severus suddenly realised that the voice had not come from within the memory but from without. The hand gripped tighter on his shoulder as the headmaster pulled him from the Pensieve. Feeling suddenly giddy, he stumbled and was guided into a chair. Dumbledore thrust another cup of sweet tea at him.

"I take it you understand what I have just showed you?"

Severus nodded, wishing he didn't. "You think –- you think that..." His tongue knotted itself, preventing him from continuing. Desperately, he tried to cling to the last strands of hope that this whole thing might be some horrid dream, but they slipped though his fingertips. "This cannot be happening."

Dumbledore patted him firmly on the shoulder and turned away. "I very much wish that it wasn't, Severus," he said. "I know that you have been though a lot in this life already and if there were anyway--"

He cut off abruptly. Shoulders dropping, he sighed, "I does not do for us to dwell on that which is not. We must focus on the matter in hand."

"The wizard Trelawney was referring to was me?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. Of course we cannot be certain, but--"

"I'm carrying this saviour child?" He snorted in disbelief. "Headmaster, you are surely not serious!"

Dumbledore came to stand by the fireplace; his hands rested uneasily on the mantelpiece. "My dear Severus," he said. "I am afraid I am. Please do not question my judgement or sanity here. As fantastical and horrific as all this may seem to you, I assure you what we are about to discuss is the undoubtedly the truth. I will not pretend otherwise."

Severus took a shaking sip of tea. "You will forgive me if I am apprehensive to be reassured by those words."

"Yes, of course. But you know, Severus, I only lie when I must. Can you think of an occasion for me be spinning such an unbelievable tale?"

Severus looked up, a dark frown creasing his brow. He made no reply.

"I do not expect you to believe me just yet."

Severus snorted, scowling darkly. "'Saviour child'?" he said. "I thought that was Potter's job description."

Dumbledore turned and looked at him seriously. "For the time being, I think it would be wise to assume this has nothing to do with Harry. Without evidence to the contrary, this prediction and the prophecy that was recorded sixteen years ago are not necessarily connected. Like I said, we need to focus on the matter at hand."

The matter at hand.

Severus suddenly felt in danger of suffocating under the weight of his situation, and all that was implied, hit him. "What are we to do?" he asked, apprehensively.

"We need to get organised," the headmaster replied, sitting down in the chair opposite Severus, hands clasped in his lap. "For now, only the most senior members of the Order will be informed of this development. Minerva, of course, will be told, as will Alastor. Firstly, however, you must answer me this: who is the father?"

Severus nearly upset the teacup he was holding. That was not a question he wanted to answer. Burying his face in his free hand, he hid behind his bony fingers, ashamed and embarrassed.

"Severus, this is important," Dumbledore persisted. "I take it you can remember who the father was?"

Severus looked up and nodded, tightly, as if it were excruciating to do so. He drew in a breath and whispered, "Lupin. Lupin is the father."

"Remus? I didn't realise that the two of you were--"

"We are not!" Severus growled. "We were drunk and it was a mistake. Headmaster, I see no reason why Lupin should be informed of--."

"Severus, he must," Dumbledore cut him off. "For the good of the child. If my suspicions are correct about the importance of this child, he or she must have the most stable possible. That implies two parents, Severus."

Severus' fist clenched. "Two parents? Headmaster, you cannot be suggesting what I think you are. Please tell me I misunderstand!"

"I am so very sorry, Severus," the headmaster said, shaking his head. "I believe you understand me perfectly. Like I have already said, we need organise ourselves. I am not talking about marriage just yet, but for the duration of your pregnancy I think perhaps Remus should move to be close to you. Your chambers are expansive."

"Oh no!" Severus exclaimed, horrified. "Absolutely not! Headmaster, are you out of your mind?"

"Severus--"

"No!" Fuming, he sent his cup flying to the floor. "Tell Lupin about the pregnancy you must, but he is not setting foot in my chambers ever again. It is his fault I am in this infernal situation in the first place!"

With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore cleared the spilled tea from his rug. "Severus, calm down," he insisted. "If you think rationally, you will see this is quite a practical solution. We will have to confirm with Poppy to be sure, but I believe you are in for a rough few months. Your body simply is not used to the hormonal fluxes it is going to face and you will experience a lot of discomfort; probably much more than any pregnant witch. Remus could help you though that."

Severus stared at the old wizard in disbelief. "Headmaster, this is absurd," he protested. "You are asking me to think rationally? With all due respect, this is a most irrational solution! Stable upbringing, sir? We would tear each other apart before the child is even born! I will not go along with this. I am sorry."

"You are not sorry in the slightest, Severus," Dumbledore asserted. Standing, he moved back to the fireplace. "I am, however: sorry that I cannot take no for an answer. This decision will work out for the best, I assure you."

Biting his lip furiously, Severus watched the headmaster though narrowed eyes as he retrieved an ornate wooden pot from the mantelpiece. Carefully removing the lid, he scooped a handful of shimmering Floo powder from within and flung it into the grate.

"Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."

Remus had kept a diary since his school days. Each evening, he would religiously take up a quill, before he turned in, and commit his day to parchment. Everything was documented, from the most mundane and trivial to the harrowing events that had carved his life so far. Flicking back a few pages to two weeks previous, he studied the entry that began "Last night, Severus and I had sex."

"We were both drunk," he had gone on to write. "But this is a poor excuse for the act. Although my hazy recollection indicates that I found the night enjoyable (it has been a long time), the fact remains that he is a colleague with whom I have always shared mutual disfavour. What occurred lacked professionalism and I am disgusted with myself. We have never got on well, and now I fear I have only made matters worse. I anticipate that he will avoid me and I, in turn, will give him space until the whole thing blows over, if it ever does.

"I do not feel the need to question him about the event. I think there stands an unspoken agreement between us: what happened was a huge mistake. I do not feel contempt towards Severus as dear Sirius did, but I dislike his ways and am certain that my actions did not stem from any repressed feelings of attraction. I believe my best course of action would be to try and forget last night completely."

Remus cringed as he reread the words, the way he always did when he looked back in his diaries. As he recalled, he has rushed the entry off, feeling it was his duty to write something about what had happened, but at the same time not wishing to make it sound as if the night held any significance.

Now, he saw the error in his pervious thinking.

That night had been significant, but in no way he would have ever have anticipated. Flicking back to the bookmarked page of his diary, he stared blankly at the seven words that graced the parchment:

"I am going to be a father."

Words refused to flow for a long while after that sentence, and Remus had laid down his quill. It wasn't exactly words he was having difficulty with, he realised, so much as the entire concept. After all, it wasn't an everyday occurrence to be told one had impregnated another wizard.

Picking up his quill again, and taking up some ink, he forced a few more words onto parchment. "When Albus told me, I asked him if he was joking. It was a stupid thing to say of course – Albus would never joke about something so important – but I couldn't think of anything else to say. I just sat there, my mouth hanging open stupidly. How could Severus be pregnant?

"Albus went on to explain the prediction to me. 'A child of great importance and magic will this night' -the night we had sex- 'be conceived to be born of a wizard' – Severus. It both made sense to me and didn't all at the same time. Severus could not be pregnant, but yet, why make up such a tale? I was hesitant to accept the truth.

"Severus did not react well to my inquiry as to what the next course of action was to be. Interestingly, his anger did not seem directed at me at that point but towards Albus. 'The headmaster seems to think it would be a good idea if we live together,' he informed, icy tones indicating exactly what he thought of the proposal. 'I have already told him it is his most idiotic idea to date of course, but he insists.'"

Remus laid his quill aside once more and glanced around the room that had been his home for the past year. Upon the bed, his trunk sat waiting to be packed with his robes, books and other worldly belongings. Around teatime the following day, he would, as instructed, summon the Knight Bus and travel to Hogwarts, where he was to take up residence in the dungeons.

There was no way out of it.

He was under no illusion as to how welcome he would be. "The headmaster holds this curious belief there will be some 'happy-little-couple' arrangement between us, Lupin," Severus had sneered, when they were alone briefly. "But allow me to assure you, I do not. If, by any chance, you are suffering from this same delirium, I suggest you snap out of it. As far as I am concerned, you got me into this blasted situation, Lupin, and I would like nothing more than to never, ever see you in my life again."

Remus realised the challenge of the days that stretch ahead of him with a feeling of cold dread that spread in his stomach. Sighing, he took up his quill for a final time and signed the evening's entry off. There were a thousand more things he felt he could write, but it did not matter. This day was one that would be etched in his memory forever.

Morning sickness, Severus decided, was a misnomer. He had still been vomiting well into the afternoon and the nausea showed no sign of abating by early evening. Supposed savour child or not, Severus' day had been so horribly vile that he was quite certain whatever was growing inside him could be nothing other than an entity of pure evil.

At shortly after seven, to cap it all, Lupin arrived. The headmaster had not given him a time to expect the werewolf, leaving only the instruction "be civil", and Severus was consequently unprepared for his arrival. As he stood just inside the doorway, trunk at his feet and a scuffed leather briefcase clutched against his chest, Lupin stared pointedly at Severus' dressing gown.

"You're not dressed," he observed. "I'm sorry -- if this is a bad time, I can come back later."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, more out of habit and effect than anything else. His headache was apparently perpetual. "Lupin," he said, wearily. "Thanks to you the next nine months will be 'a bad time'. You can come back after that if you wish, but I expect that would greatly displease the headmaster."

Lupin scuffed his trunk with the edge of his boot, nervously. "Then I had best stay."

"Unfortunately so."

Severus turned away and nodded to a short passage that lead from his living room, terminating in a door of stained oak, identical to the rest of those in his chambers. "That is to be your room," he informed, absently. "One of the house-elves will unpack your belongings, or you may do that yourself, if you so desire."

Lupin nodded, but did not move. "Severus," he said. "I have been doing some thinking."

Those were not words Severus liked to hear. Most often, from whomever they came, they forwarded something to which Severus would most likely object. Some people, he believed, should be strongly discouraged from thinking. Remus Lupin was definitely one of them. He turned back around, raising an eyebrow lazily to feign interest in what ever Lupin was about to say

"I owe you a pretty major apology. For my lack of control that -- that night and for..." The werewolf trailed off and narrowed his eyes critically at Severus. "My God, you look terrible."

Severus snorted. "How very observant of you," he said. "For your information I do happen to feel pretty terrible as well. Not really surprising, considering I've been throwing up most of the day, Lupin."

"I don't understand," Lupin frowned. "How come you're so sick already? Most women..."

Severus sneered. "I am not 'most women.'"

"No, of course not. I didn't mean..." Lupin flashed a soft, apologetic smile at Severus. "I really am sorry, you know," he continued. "I don't suppose there is anything I can say to make you accept that, however."

"No."

"Very well."

"Is there anything else?" Severus crossed his arms firmly in front of his chest, drawing is dressing gown closer around him. He really aught to be dressed by now, but found he didn't really care.

Lupin shook his head. "Not right now," he said. "But I am certain we have a few things to discuss later."

"Such as?" Severus arched an eyebrow again. "Have you been considering colours for the nursery already?"

"Severus--"

"Save it, Lupin," Severus spat. "You said we have a few things to discuss later, not now." He turned and made for his bedchambers, desiring nothing more than to be away from Lupin and the threat of his insipid banter.

"Where are you going?"

"To have a shower," he said, not bothering to look over his shoulder as he shut his bedchamber door behind him. Within the sanctuary of his en suite bathroom, he turned on the hot water and listened to it splutter over the bottom of the tub for a moment. Slipping out of his dressing grown and under the jets, he stood motionless as the water dribbled lazily across his sallow skin, washing away the last of his nausea. It was a shame, he thought, he couldn't wash Lupin away.

Dipping his head forward, he wet his hair and raked his fingers lightly though it. A hazy fragment of memory suddenly and unexpected came to him of how Lupin had run his fingers though his hair just like than the night they had had sex. Repulsed, Severus shut off the water and stepped out of the tub.

"Damn you, Lupin," he growled to himself.

Back in his bedchambers, he dried himself off on a fluffy white towel and wrapped it around his body before curling up on his bed, on top of the covers. Dressing was not worth it. He was tired, worn and ill, and wanted nothing more than to allow sleep to claim him as soon as possible. Despite the hour, he decided to turn in for the night. Discarding the towel, he felt under his pillow for his nightshirt. After pulling it on, he crawled beneath the covers and curled up on his side once more. One hand snuck sleepily to his abdomen.

Within moments, sleep lapped over him and did its best to sooth his cares until morning.

A/N: This is the last of the revised chapters. Chapter three is new and will be posted some time next week. (Allowing for any further technological catastrophes. I've had several recently.)

I have always considered this chapter to be a little rushed, although I felt it necessary to get the story moving along as soon as possible. When I originally posted this chapter, some reviewers expressed their astoundment at Dumbledore moving Lupin into Snape's rooms. Although I kept this part of the plot, I have taken these issues into account in the revising of the above chapter and the writing of the next. I hope you can forgive me for my madness! My only other option was to seriously alter the way this story was going to run.

Thank you to all of you who read and reviewed the last chapter. Any feedback is welcome, whether general comments, suggestions, or constructive criticism.

And thanks to my beta Sparkler, who had to put up with me nagging.