Disclaimer: Raise your hand if you're going to attempt to read the HBP in one day. (I raise my hand like Hermione) Not long now! Hurrah!
Don't Call Me Daddy
Male Bonding
Preparing for the final stage of yet another Wolfsbane trial, Severus glanced up from his cauldron to check on the six month old sitting up in his Pericles Playpen a safe distance away. Lunging forward, the baby attempted to grasp a soft ball and bring it to his mouth. Septimus, who was so attractive that his father felt more like a bodyguard protecting his client from adoring fans when they went out in public, was babbling 'yaya' and other repetitive sounds. The wizard listened and realized that his son was copying his parents' tones and patterns of inflection. How interesting.
The baby uttered 'kaka' with a frustrated look on his face. He couldn't reach the ball. As Snape watched, Septimus leaned forward a little more, clutched the ball with chubby fingers, and crowed,
"Da!"
He chuckled. The baby looked up and smiled in the way that made women of all ages go 'Aw'. Displaying the two front bottom teeth that had just emerged last week, Septimus gurgled,
"Dada!"
Severus knew, intellectually, that vocalization at this stage was a game, an experimentation with tongue, teeth, and vocal chords to find sounds that were pleasing to hear and say. That didn't prevent the father from feeling a warm glow whenever his son said 'dada', however. His wife, always more demonstrative, openly delighted whenever Septimus babbled 'mama', cooing and kissing plump little cheeks enthusiastically. Thin, mobile lips pursed. If the boy said 'mama' intentionally, before he said 'dada', it was only because she had prejudiced the lad in her favor. Snape's mouth curved upwards. Not that he blamed the child. Lorelei had prejudiced him in her favor years ago.
When Septimus went back to the enthralling game of pick up, mouth and throw down, the Potions Master returned his attention to the cauldron at hand. He and Lorelei had decided that they would care for their baby themselves, with the occasional help of a house elf with child care experience when she had returned to teaching first through fifth year Potions. Dumbledore had been agreeable to an amended curriculum of doubled classes, which supposedly promoted inter-house harmony as well as lightened the new mother's teaching load. He took care of the baby when she taught, and vice versa. Their schedules had been duly adjusted and so far, Septimus had reacted exceedingly well.
After the Wolfsbane potion reached the simmering stage, Severus took off his protective robes, washed his hands, and approached the playpen. A soft book was being shaken in a tiny fist.
"Dadadada"
Always endeavoring to encourage proper linguistic development, the wizard asked, with none of that 'baby talk' others affected,
"Do you wish to be read a book?" He took the flailing arms and squeal as a yes. Bending to pick up the sturdy child, he sat in a nearby rocker. The corners of his mouth twitched when Septimus, sitting on his lap and supported by the crook of his left arm, tilted his head to look up and say 'ga' while offering the fabric book he still clutched. Avoiding the sopping imprint of small lips, Severus tugged the item away and lifted an eyebrow as he read aloud, "Lots of Bugs" How…inventive… A fabric 'bug', constructed to become several different insects made from different fabrics to encourage tactile stimulation, he supposed.
Although the sparse words were so inane that they almost physically pained the man to speak them, Severus did so…until reaching the caterpillar. He became speechless with outrage. How dare the irresponsible persons responsible for mass producing this so-called educational tool create a vividly hued caterpillar and encourage small children to touch it! Remembering the way his son now burst into tears when hearing harsh tones, the indignant father held the tiny hand away from the bloody bug and instructed softly,
"No, Septimus…don't ever touch caterpillars that are brightly coloured. Some use their colouring to warn other creatures not to eat them. They secrete poisonous liquids and have poisonous spines that will harm you." Regulating his tone with effort, Severus told the smiling boy, "The severity of the sting increases with the size of the caterpillar." Flicking a disdainful finger at the revoltingly smiling monstrosity, he concluded, "This one would most likely land you in the hospital wing while Poppy treated you for severe eye and skin inflammation or intestinal disturbances." Tossing the book across the room to the delight of the baby now blowing a spit bubble, he looked up when an amused voice stated,
"What a macabre sounding baby book." Picking up the text, grimacing over the drool, the elegant blond professor chuckled, "Lots of Bugs…not exactly what I expected." Holding the book with two fingers, Malfoy asked in the pseudo helpful tone that hadn't fooled Severus when the man had been his student, and didn't fool him now, "Shall I place it in the rubbish bin?"
"Yes, it deserves no less, teaching innocent children to handle caterpillars indiscriminately." Severus replied grimly, disregarding his visitor's poorly concealed amusement. Glancing down to see Septimus' bottom lip sticking perilously out, he ordered, "Be useful and throw me another book."
Slinging the waste of fabric into a nearby bin and retrieving another book from a pile on a table, Draco handed it over with a smirk. Snape realized why when he saw the lamb on the cover. While Septimus batted at the 'lamb wool', he read aloud, without inflection,
"Sunny day, come and play…"
Grey eyes gleamed with mirth. Narrowing his own, the older wizard turned the soft page and said in a deceptively mild tone that caused his colleague's brows to rise in alarm,
"Lift the leaf. What's underneath?"
Once again, he was rendered speechless. Draco, perched on a table, leaned forward and asked,
"Well? What's underneath?"
Septimus answered for his father, bringing the object up to his mouth to taste. Light green with a red line down its sides, the caterpillar resembled that of an Io Moth, which had stinging spines. Severus exhaled sharply. Malfoy laughed out loud. Startled by the burst of sound, the baby began to cry. Standing, the wizard frowned while put he put his son up to his shoulder and rocked back and forth to soothe him.
"Did you invade my private lab merely to upset my son?" He queried coolly. "Or did you have an actual issue to discuss?"
"Sorry" Draco apologized. Septimus lifted his head off his father's shoulder and smiled at the familiar face. The man grinned, "Don't hold a grudge, do you, mate, must take after your mother."
The baby blew a spit bubble and started babbling, "dadadadada"
Malfoy looked astounded. Severus' upper lip curled,
"You were saying?"
"Yeah, right, I was wondering, are you heading to the pub later?" When the other man's features remained blank, he elaborated, "Since the birds are flocking to your place for the poker game tonight, I figured you might be looking to get out and…" Draco ran a hand over his pale hair, glancing away and breaking off as if embarrassed.
Severus had completely forgotten that it was Lorelei's turn to host the monthly poker night. Distracted by the wizard's demeanor, he asked,
"Yes?"
Curling his fingers to examine the manicure, which looked impeccable, the younger Slytherin said offhandedly,
"I was hoping you'd like to play darts. It just so happens that I need a partner for a match against Orlando and Gimli."
Septimus was happily tugging his father's hair while being shuffle stepped side to side. Severus smiled briefly at his son before drawling,
"How, pray tell, did you happen to become in need a darts partner?"
"Last Friday night in the pub, the two challenged me to a drinking game…and…" Stygian eyes pinned evasive grey. Draco admitted, "I won, so they challenged me to a darts match, to give them the chance to even the score." An edge came into his voice, "I said partners, because, well, because I haven't played much, and I didn't want to lose. Will you come?"
Flattered, and thinking that Malfoy was a true son of Slytherin, Snape inclined his head.
"Very well, I'll be your partner, but first…" Using his wand, Severus opened a cupboard on a side wall. It opened to reveal a dartboard. Nodding to it, he said, "You're going get in some practice."
Later, while he and Lorelei bathed Septimus, his wife listened to him specify the ways his patience had been tried that day and smiled.
"After we get Ari settled down in his cot, I'll give you a massage, so you can be at the top of your game."
He did play better relaxed. Septimus' little hands splashed water over his mother, who looked very fetching wet. Severus' analytical mind calculated that even if the massage became…prolonged…and mutual…requiring a short period of rest afterwards, he still had plenty of time to meet Draco in the entry and walk to the pub to meet their opponents.
His slow smile brought a blush to Lorelei's cheeks. She quickly wrapped the baby in a hooded towel and headed towards the nursery. Over her shoulder, their son smiled and gurgled,
"Da!"
On that November evening, leaves of the deciduous trees had long since fallen, crunching beneath the feet of the men traversing the path to Hogsmeade. Strolling beside Draco, Severus' unperturbed expression caused his companion to mutter,
"I'm not even going to ask how you can be so relaxed."
Looking down before he did something rash, like laugh, black strands concealed up-turned lips when the wizard replied,
"Prudent of you..." Unable to resist, he continued, "Seeing how my…relaxation techniques…are unavailable to those with fiancées in London."
Slanting a sideways glance, Snape fought a smile. Malfoy was staring at him in shock.
"I…when did I tell you that?"
"The last time you accompanied me down to the pub. Gimli conned you into sampling some dwarven spirits. You became quite loquacious, sharing the cruel irony of waiting years for a wizard's handshake to become null and void, only to be separated from the girl you love except on the odd weekend when she can break away from her accelerated business courses."
An expression that was almost Hufflepuff softened classic features.
"It'll be worth it, when she opens the Hogsmeade shop, and we can finally be married." Clearing his throat after a moment, Draco stated confidently, "Ginny will run Zonko's out of business in no time."
Severus was no longer discomfited by the almost fatherly pride he took in the young man beside him. He asked while they resumed the short trek to the pub,
"How much stock do you own now?"
Malfoy's smile gleamed with satisfaction.
"Twenty five per cent of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes…which I plan on giving to Ginny for a wedding present, of course. Do you think she'll like that better than the family jewels?"
Thinking of the ostentatious collection that had seemed to wear Narcissa instead of the other way round, Severus nodded.
"Very much so…"
Thoughts of his fiancée elevated Draco's spirits appreciably. When he opened the door with a grand 'after you, Sir', the senior professor said blandly as he passed,
"Age before beauty?"
A white-blond eyebrow rose.
"I was thinking oyster before the pearl, actually."
Severus' mouth curved and then immediately straightened when he noticed the pair waiting at the bar.
"All smiles, those two are, Gimli. Are they that confident of winning?"
Orlando looked to the stocky man draining a tankard of ale. Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, the master gardener replied,
"Dinnae fash yerself, laddie, we'll teach 'em otherwise."
Behind the bar, the brassy haired proprietor propped a curving hip against the bar and asked, "When are you going to bring that beautiful boy of yours back to see us, Snape?"
Gimli belched. Severus curled his lip,
"When bad influences mend their ways…"
The broad face lit up.
"I influenced yer bairn? Michty me…" Realizing that it was a rebuke, not a compliment, Gimli's shaggy brows drew together. "Eh, mebbe I havenae always been minding my manners. I'll do better, for wee Septimus. He's a braw laddie."
Unable to remain disgruntled when his child was so rightfully praised, Severus inclined his head graciously.
"We shall bring him by Sunday evening, after dinner."
Lorelei wanted to hear the bard who was scheduled to weave tales of the Oak and Holly King that were so popular this time of year. People looked forward to the Winter Solstice, when the reigning Holly King would be defeated by the Oak King in a symbolic battle representing the waxing sun overtaking the waning one. The woman's scarlet lips widened in a brilliant smile.
"Good. My custom doubles when your wife drops by. If she brings your gorgeous baby, I'm hoping to triple." Winking, Rosmerta plunked a tumbler on the bar and poured a generous amount of Ogden's into it. "Save your coin to buy the boys a round."
"When we win?" His brows arched in question.
She winked again, the brazen wench.
"No, luv, when you lose… By themselves, Orlando and Gimli can be beat, but as doubles partners? It's never happened yet." With a pitying glance, she took down another glass and poured Draco a shot. "Here you go, Malfoy. Good luck. You'll need it."
Severus left his firewhisky untouched while his partner downed his. They hung up their cloaks and moved to the end of the room where the coveted dartboard awaited. The usual Friday night crowd seemed more intent on the match about to begin than on private conversation. An unnatural hush fell over the room when Gimli boomed,
"Are ye ready to lose, lads?"
Orlando merely grinned.
"He'll improve his manners on the morrow, I expect."
Ignoring the Fae's amusement, Snape gave him a level look.
"Cricket?"
Gimli gave a low chuckle,
"What else, professor?"
Draco said in a low voice,
"Remind me what exactly I'm supposed to be doing, again?"
In an undertone, Severus instructed,
"We're hitting the numbers 15 through 20- each has to be hit three times. Either by three singles…" With a sinking feeling at the poker face Malfoy was displaying, he reminded, "The outer ring is a double, and the inner, a triple. We have to clear each number to go on to the next. We're racing the other team to the end, where a bull's eye wins the match."
"Ah"
Never so grateful for his own ability to present an impassive façade, Snape turned to their opponents and waited for his turn to throw. Gimli, with skill he claimed was honed by years of winning the axe throwing competition in Highland Games, hit closest to the bull's eye, allowing his team to go first. Orlando, using a smooth, fluid motion that made women sigh, got a double on 15. Outwardly composed, Malfoy stepped up and threw a single. He shrugged, but Severus caught the flicker of relief and closed his eyes briefly. Withstanding the impulse to rub the bridge of his nose, he whispered when Gimli hefted a dart,
"You've never played a real match in a pub, have you?"
"I'm playing one now."
It was Severus' turn. He blocked out the ever growing and increasingly vocal crowd and focused on the board, scoring a double with ease. The match evened out since Orlando had a hard time hitting triples, and Draco didn't even try to hit anything but center of the number at hand. Gimli and Severus each took turns at closing out their partner's number. The crowd grew hushed when Orlando was up on 20. Eyes narrowed in determination, he said,
"I'm going for the triple."
He narrowly missed, and got a single. Women sighed 'ohh' in sympathy. Men roared, 'OHH' in glee. Draco stepped up and glanced at his partner,
"Should I go for the triple?"
Guffaws broke out, making clear the opinion of most of the watchers. Snape nodded encouragingly, even though he wanted to say 'hell no'. The tavern became still as the onlookers craned forward to see what would happen. Time seemed to slow. As Severus watched his colleague, protégé, and young friend prepare to throw, he pondered whether he'd be this anxious when the man he watched was Septimus. Imperceptibly, he relaxed. His son would have the benefit of years of training. He was bound to hit triples like Malfoy hit singles. Still, the wizard knew he would still feel a rush of exultant pride like he did now upon seeing the dart become embedded in the coveted inner ring.
Triple!
The fickle crowd who had heckled previously now cheered. Draco grinned boyishly and shook the hand outstretched in congratulation on a brilliant throw. Severus tightened his grip briefly and then released his clasp to allow Orlando and Gimli to shake their opponent's hand and express admiration for his skill. The Scot closed out his number. Only the bull's eye was left. If Severus could hit the bull's eye, his team would win the match. He concentrated, he threw, and he hit the bull's eye. The onlookers roared. The dart wobbled. In disbelief, he watched it fall. Sympathetic imprecations filled the air. Malfoy turned to him in confusion.
"You hit the Bull's Eye, didn't we just win?"
Schooling his features, Severus explained calmly, as though to a seventh year confused over why a potion had not been effective,
"The dart must remain embedded for at least five seconds to count as a hit." Pausing, he finished levelly, "Mine dropped off the board at four."
"Bollocks!" Grey eyes were stormy.
"Sorry, laddie, but Snape's got the right of it."
Orlando said solemnly,
"That was a perfect Bull's Eye, you should have won." Unleashing his dart like he was releasing an arrow from a bow, the Fae smoothly hit a Bull's Eye and said over the cheers of the crowd, "Chance decided differently…" With a flashing smile, he called, "…but drinks are on me, in honor of a well fought match!"
Draco smiled, seeming to shrug off his disappointment and enjoy the camaraderie. Trapped into putting on a show of good sportsmanship, which went against his Slytherin nature, Severus stayed to drink two rounds of firewhisky before using the excuse of wife and child to escape the well-meant commiseration of his former adversaries. Draco followed, whistling, while the older wizard remained silent on the way back to Hogwarts. When the pair reached the front steps, Snape halted and said,
"You made an amazing throw, hit your target, while I fell short and cost us the match. I apologize."
In the torchlight, his companion's teeth gleamed white.
"Don't, it was a great match."
Staring incredulously, Severus gritted,
"A great match? In case it slipped your notice, Mr. Malfoy, we lost."
Draco said matter-of-factly,
"I'm used to that. How many times has Slytherin lost to Gryffindor? While I was at school, we won, what, a couple of ruddy matches?" He shook his head. "Hell, we lost the House Cup, too. Once, Dumbledore even snatched it away from us at the leaving feast, allowing the house to celebrate before changing the bloody banners in the Hall from Slytherin to Gryffindor, the old bastard."
The young man was smiling broadly. Severus conceded with reluctant humor,
"That was rather Slytherin of him, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, I grudgingly admired that, after I stopped wanting to hex his beard off." Draco's smile faded as he stated frankly, "I hated losing back then, and I still don't like it, but I'll confess that when I said I didn't want to lose, I meant badly." He said with a smile, "Tonight, we played a damn good game, and they know that if your dart had stuck for one more second they would've lost. Everybody in that pub respects us, and I'm satisfied with that…until the rematch."
"Rematch" Severus repeated blankly. Thinking about it, he began to smile. "With a little more practice, I think you could hit a triple every time. Tomorrow, at the end of classes, my lab- be there." Thinking that he and Malfoy were getting perilously close to sentimentality, Snape said dryly, "You shall be avenged."
Draco laughed. "Yes Sir!"
Bidding each other goodnight, they separated. The History of Magic professor sauntered off towards his quarters, probably to gloat over his lucky hit to his fiancée via Melusine Mirror. The Potions Master headed down the dungeon stairway to his own partner. Inside the lounge, Lorelei was using her wand to tidy the space her fellow professors had managed to strew with cups, plates, and poker chips. Hanging up his cloak, Severus asked,
"How was your game?"
She waved her hand in a so-so motion and moved toward him.
"I broke even. What about you?"
He smiled, pulling her into his arms. Feeling like the Holly King who had fought hard, been vanquished by the Oak King, but didn't care since he retained the Spring Maiden's love, he replied,
"I lost and I won."
A/N: Just last chap Septimus was three months old…babies grow so fast! LOL. The baby books are based on real ones I found on a uk/baby site and thought 'what if they'd made the caterpillars brightly colored?' heh. Embellished commented in a review last chap about the similarity between the fic and a sitcom, where each week an issue is resolved. Very astute, this story is like that, with an underlying theme, since I never want to have a 'fic about nothing'. ; ) It does makes me wonder what sitcom my brilliant reviewers would liken this story to. Things that make you go Hmmm…tell me in a Review!