Tonks,

Is playing professional Quidditch a suitable way to spend a sabbatical?

Regards,

Harry.

……

H,

You tell me.

T.

……

Dear Chief Auror Tonks,

This letter is to inform the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that I will be spending my year out playing professional Quidditch as Seeker with Puddlemere United.

I believe that this experience will be worthwhile for the following reasons:

- It will develop my teambuilding skills.

- It will enhance my reflexes.

- It will enable me to make faster decisions under pressure.

- My fitness and airborne pursuit stats will be enhanced.

- I will become more comfortable with media attention.

- Training will be given in how to publicly represent my institution and the game in general in the public sphere.

Harry paused for a moment, sucking the end of his quill pensively, before adding.

- It will be a lot of fun.

Please do not hesitate to contact me if there are any queries. I look forward to returning to the MLE in a year's time.

Yours sincerely,

Junior Auror Harry James Potter, O.M.(1st)

…….

At three weeks of age, Alexandra Lucy Lupin-Snape was rapidly becoming gorgeous.

Everyone who saw her exclaimed over her dark hair and big brown eyes, her rosebud mouth and long slender fingers. Lupin's heart almost broke whenever he held her. Snape had grown an extra few inches in height out of pure smugness.

Following lengthy discussion, Severus had forced himself to swallow his terror once more and brought the baby to Lupin' flat at full moon to meet her Daddy's alter ego. It had taken him a long time to decide whether to involve Remus or just go straight ahead and do it, like his last bonding visit to the wolf's lair. He had decided that it was potentially too dangerous a procedure to allow any mistakes, so consulted with Lupin over prudence of the move. The werewolf had been surprised but undeniably pleased, and had gone strangely misty-eyed at Snape's "sweet idea". Snape decided not to mention that he was only putting himself through the horror of seeing the foul beast for Alexandra's safety and protection, but if the fool of a Gryffindor chose to view it as some kind of mawkish family bonding exercise, then that was his own problem.

Shaking so hard his teeth rattled, he sat on the floor near the fireplace and stretched out his arms so the enormous dark beast could see its cub. Sensing her father's fear, Saskia mewed and wriggled unhappily.

"Shh, t…treasure," Snape stammered, reassuring himself as much as her. "Everything's all right. It's only Daddy as a wolf."

The docile grey wolf raised its head in interest, sniffing the air.

Mate!

"Remus?"

Mate is here! But afraid. Silly Mate, should not be afraid of me. And not alone. Another creature. Smells familiar. A bit like Mate, a bit like something else. Makes an odd sound.

He padded over to investigate and Severus had to bite his lip to prevent himself crying out as the wolf buried his nose in Saskia's blanket and took a hearty snort of her scent.

Cub! Of course. Mate has brought Cub to show me! Is afraid I will reject them both.

Yellow eyes stared up at Snape and he gave a whimper of relief as he saw the tufted tail begin to wag cheerfully. The wolf turned its attention back to the baby and licked her from chin to forehead to reassure the human that he recognised his own young. Saskia, not in the least put out at receiving her second bath of the day, reached out and grabbed a handful of Lupin's whiskers. The wolf gave a yip of surprise.

"Eeeaah," Saksia answered him.

Snape heaved a deep sigh of contentment. He had a wonderful feeling that everything was going to work out for the best.

…….

Remus was loving his new life. The pain of splitting up with Harry still flared frequently, but hours of playing with the baby and planning her future with Severus kept him too busy to brood. He had taken to spending most of the day at Maltings Lane, and occasionally he stayed in the spare bedroom to let Snape have a more substantial night's sleep.

Saskia had been unimpressed the first time Remus had offered her pumped breastmilk from a bottle. In fact, she had yelled herself blue and got hiccups. Snape snatched her back and cursed Lupin quietly for having such a stupid idea. Standing his ground, Remus had suggested that Severus remove his top while trying to feeding her with the bottle, so that everything felt normal except for the artificial teat, then once she had grown used to the change, to give him another try.

"What do you think, treasure?" Snape had asked, managing to keep his voice soft while simultaneously sneering at Lupin. Saskia gave a dubious little growl-hic.

"Now, ickle Poppet, um don't know until um try," Remus smiled and stroked her little face. "And if sweetiepie will just let Daddy feed her, Papa can go bye-byes."

"Lupin!" hissed Snape. "You will cease babbling that demented gibberish at my daughter! I will not have her growing up with the grammatical understanding of a house-elf."

Eventually, the baby caved in, realising that the milk was exactly the same whoever distributed it, and some nights Severus was able to retire for more than three hours at a stretch, a soothing purée of mint and cucumber on each raw nipple.

There had been no mention of both parents sharing a bed.

Remus was very fond of Severus and Severus found himself able to tolerate the werewolf – the bond they shared was a strong one, after all – but neither showed any interest in taking things any further than their tentative comradeship. Snape had got exactly what he wanted in the beginning. Lupin was frequently around to help raise their daughter without being constantly underfoot. He introduced her to his many acquaintances, who were all keen to take turns at cuddling, playing, babysitting or out-and-out spoiling. Though most were wary of Snape at first, they thawed a little on seeing him interact with his baby, and once Rita Skeeter had delivered her feature-length piece, they tended to voluntarily approach him to ask about the rare occurrence of a male pregnancy.

To Lupin's surprise, Snape would often answer. Sometimes, he would even answer politely.

As Dumbledore had surmised a few weeks before, Remus found it delightful to suddenly have family. His life had been worth so little just a few months ago, now he was determined to look after his health, for once, and to try and make himself a better person so that Alexandra would not be ashamed of him when she grew.

He was pleased that Harry had made such brilliant use of his gap year, and encouraged him by going to as many games as he could. He was rather ashamed of the slight pang of jealousy he felt whenever he thought of Puddlemere United – not only about what Harry was probably up to with Oliver, but also of the glittering future which beckoned for the young man. Not that he begrudged him fun and happiness, not for one minute; rather Remus was ashamed at the way it highlighted his own lack of direction. Snape was a highly-skilled potions genius – what would he tell Saskia when she asked what her other Daddy did? For the first time since completing his book, he began considering his career options.

One night, while cradling a restless baby in the great oak rocking chair, the idea came to him. His war memoir had been a bestseller. In the aftermath of the conflict, while everyone was dizzy from the final victory and before his life had settled down into its empty routine, he had been hailed as a fine writer. Praise for his courage at being able to commit his experiences to paper had poured in from every continent. Since then, scores of others had told their own tales with varying degrees of sentiment, or indeed, accuracy. But at four o'clock that morning, halfway through 'Ten Bad Pixies, Knocking Down a Wall', Lupin got himself all excited.

He would write a book about the impact of the war on wizarding society today. He could not be the only person to have had bouts of depression, borderline alcoholism, sporadic agoraphobia and the like. If he could do some research, get enough material from other veterans to explore the effects on individuals….

He stood up and began to pace. Not all results of the conflict were bad – many people had married their former comrades, had children, new charities had been set up, laws had been passed. In fact, there would be rather too much material to wade through. Perhaps more than one book. He could write a volume on social repercussions, and a separate one of more personal stories, though he might have to change some names for that.

Saskia had gone back to sleep, so he laid her gently back into her crib and crept down to the study to make a few notes in case he forgot his ideas in the morning.

As a rule, he tried to avoid Severus' study, though he was not completely forbidden from entering it, as with the basement laboratory. He had absolutely no problem with that rule, feeling that it was just as much for his wellbeing as for Snape's privacy. The study was lined with shelves from floor to ceiling, each crammed with books under shrinking charms to save space, and restraining spells for safety reasons. Snape's mahogany desk was tucked into the corner nearest the hearth, each solid drawer fastened with spells dark enough to curl the hair of even the doughtiest evil wizard.

Lupin lit the fire and settled down at the desk, deliberately leaving the door open in case the baby awoke. He pulled out a quill but could not see any parchment. A cursory glance around for writing material revealed nothing of use. Even the bin had been emptied of scrap. He did not want to wake Pip to ask where Severus kept his paper, much less Severus himself. He frowned. Reaching for his wand he tried:

"Accio Parchment!"

He dived for safety under the desk as hundreds of exam scripts cascaded onto him from the shelf behind his head like a papery tsunami. When they finally stopped, he shuffled half-heartedly through them, but every page was strewn with text, diagrams and incomprehensible calculations.

"Accio Scrap-paper!" he tried. Pip's bag of baking-paper offcuts flew in from the kitchen and landed in his lap. House elves were peculiar creatures. They hoarded some items compulsively whilst being utterly ruthless about clearing out others. He was glad he had never accidentally summoned her beloved collection of bottle tops.

"Accio Notebook-with-some-blank-pages-left-in-it!" he decided to be more specific, throwing a little more magical power into the spell than the previous attempts.

This time a slim, leather-bound book fluttered into his hand and he sighed with satisfaction.

Snape awoke with a start and had crawled halfway out of bed to attend to the baby before he realised that she was not actually crying. He sat still, trying to work out what had woken him. Gone were his days of being a light sleeper – now he could nod off anytime, anywhere and sleep like the dead, disturbed only by the penetrative wails of his bundle of joy. After a moment he heard a small sound from the room directly beneath his bedroom. His hand flew to his wand immediately.

All the known Death Eaters had been rounded up, save one, the treacherous rodent Wormtail. No one was seriously worried. It was generally believed that he was too cowardly to risk capture by trying to harm anyone, more likely he had gone to ground abroad somewhere, changed his identity and started afresh. The Ministry kept itself informed of any unusual activity, but as Tonks had put it when Harry protested that the man responsible for resurrecting Voldemort was still at large – "We can't wade through the entire world's sewer systems looking for one single rat."

Snape did not really fear attack from Pettigrew, but unknown supporters of the Dark Lord were another matter. Not everyone had been fool enough to be caught with their tattoos showing, and these nameless, formless threats were impossible to track down.

Not wanting to risk the creaking floorboards, he remained seated on the edge of the bed.

"Pip," the whisper was barely audible, but the little creature appeared three seconds later, blinking sleepily. He raised a finger to his lips. Her eyes went wide and she nodded in acknowledgment. "Who is downstairs? Friend or foe?" he mouthed.

Snape watched in fascination as Pip screwed up her ugly face in concentration and rose a quarter of an inch off the floor as she attuned herself to all the vibrations and magical currents inside in the house. House-elves were highly powerful magical creatures, he couldn't help but wonder why they had never decided to overthrow their human masters and take over the world. They were clearly capable of it. He suspected that only the rudeness of doing such a thing was holding them back. Elves lived to be polite.

"Only Master Lupin," she whispered at last. "Little Mistress being asleep safe in her cot. Sucking on fingers."

"Pip, you are amazing, thank you. I am sorry to have disturbed your sleep," he sighed with relief, irritated with himself but unashamed of his paranoia. It had saved more lives than his own over the years. The elf glowed at the compliment and tried to force cocoa, biscuits and marshmallows on him until he had to become rather stern. She went back to bed with drooping ears and Severus descended the stairs with mild exasperation.

He was glad to have taken his wand when he reached the study and found Lupin sitting at the desk with his nose buried in a book. The werewolf looked up slowly and for a horrible moment, Severus feared that the glassy, dead look in his eyes could only be the result of a curse.

"Lupin?" he asked, gripping his wand tightly. He didn't want to hurt the other wizard, but if he was under Imperius and a threat to Saskia, Snape knew he would kill him without a further thought.

"How could you?" Remus asked in a flat, wounded tone.

"What are you talking about?" demanded the potions master haughtily, not relaxing one iota. "How could I do what?"

"THIS!" roared Lupin, switching from listless to incandescent with a suddenness which would have staggered anyone other than Severus Snape. He flung the notebook violently at the darker man's face, but it stopped it in mid-air thanks to a lightening quick spell and Snape looked closely to see what had so upset the usually inoffensive wizard.

Ah.

Cursing his meticulous nature, Snape took hold of his book of lists and placed it in his pocket. So Lupin had discovered the truth about Saskia's conception. How could he have been so unbelievably stupid? To allow a stranger to find it once was shameful, but to make the same mistake twice amounted to certifiable lunacy. It could only be a result of severe hormonal disruption and pre-natal brain shrinkage. Was this the level of self-reprimand and shame which drove elves to mutilate themselves in atonement for their mistakes?

Automatically concealing his inner anger, he tightened his dressing-gown cord and looked down at the glowering werewolf superciliously.

"I shall thank you, Lupin, not to go sneaking around my study in the middle of the night, reading personal docum…"

"SHUT UP!" he spat. "Don't you DARE start lecturing when you've used me so badly! Were you planning to tell me? Ever? Sirius was right about you! You're a deceitful, manipulative heartless bastard incapable of any real emotion. Everyone says having that kid is the only decent thing you've done in your whole life, but you even had to lie and cheat to get pregnant! You are the most contemptible individual I have had the misfortune to meet!"

"Fling at me whichever insults you deem necessary to assuage your wounded ego, Lupin," Snape replied coolly. "But I will not allow you to refer to our daughter as 'that kid' in such a disgusted tone of voice."

Remus visibly deflated again.

"Why, Severus, why didn't you just ask me?" he asked, with loathing in his voice, his posture, his eyes.

"You might have refused," Snape replied, as though stating the obvious. "Hate me, Lupin, I am accustomed to being hated, however I must beg you not to hold this against Saskia. She is wholly innocent of any immorality."

Shaking his head from side to side as though incapable of grasping such a revolting discovery, he muttered;

"Why does everyone I care for betray me?"

"Oh please, spare me the melodrama about your poor, miserable life," sneered Snape. "I hardly think becoming a father without your consent can be compared with having two of your best friends murdered by a third."

Though he had not been referring to that particular act of betrayal, the lingering pain of it rekindled Lupin's ferocity in an instant.

"Don't you dare talk about my friends! You know nothing about them, or about friendship in general because you're too bloody nasty to have ever had anyone who gives a stuff about you, Snivellus!"

Careless of the fact that he was still in his pyjamas, Lupin stormed out of the study and through to the sitting-room, where Snape heard him shout his own address and disappear into the fireplace with a whoosh of flame.

Severus' heart pounded in the painful silence. He had messed it all up. Lupin had gone and was not coming back, leaving his little girl to be raised by an anti-social, friendless single parent.

"Master not friendless," said Pip in a small voice from the doorway, where she had been hiding, trembling as the incomprehensible argument raged.

"Pip, please do not read my mind," said Snape in an exhausted voice.

"Sorry," she replied, but offered no grovelling withdrawal of her statement. It was being the truth! There was Master Long Beard and Mistress Rosy Cheeks who was both very good friends to Master and Little Miss. But she was not mentioning it at the moment.

A hearty wailing began from the nursery upstairs, and Severus mechanically turned his attention to his daughter, filing away his bitterness for another time. He had told Lupin the truth – none of this dreadful mess was Alexandra's fault. He would not upset her by being angry now.

…….

The ground fell away beneath Harry as he rocketed through the air after the snitch and he felt his soul soaring ahead of him. The March air was cold against his face but the blue sky was full of twittering birds darting out of his way, suggesting for the first time that Spring was finally on its way. He stifled the manic grin which broke out when he flew, Coach had accused him of looking like a 'bleedin' imbecile' half the time he was airborne.

Understandably, the professional game was harder than school Quidditch. The snitch was faster, the pitch larger, the bludgers heavier and the competition more intense. The rivalry between Puddlemere and their sworn enemies, the Ballycastle Bats, made even the nastiest of Gryffindor-Slytherin grudge-matches look like a disagreement over tea and scones, and Harry had actually feared for his life when a misjudged feint caused him to foul the Bats' keeper behind the referee's back during his first match.

Yet the new challenges exhilarated him. Being able to devote all his time to doing the activity he loved most was an incredible feeling and he plunged his whole concentration into training, fitness and studying strategies. For once, the focus of his life did not involve murder and large-scale horror. He never mentioned it in Puddlemere, of course, but it felt great to know that if he failed any of his current tasks, nobody was going to die. Hopefully.

His PU team mates were dubious of the famous amateur at first, filling his boots with stinksap, dumping him fully clothed in the locker-room bath and so on, but soon gave up when they realised that no initiation test their athlete's brains could devise would ever be as frightful as an hour spent with the Weasley twins.

He turned to look at the pitch below as the sound of shouting broke his reverie. While Coach Alexson was engaged in a screaming match with the Beaters, one of the Chasers stopped to watch the show and was facing the wrong way when the two unattended bludgers smacked her in the back of the neck. Harry winced as the loud cracking sound echoed through the training ground. Alexson paused to take in the accident, then began yelling even louder than before. Harry swooped down to listen.

"…bleedin' shambles…never in all my live-long days…can't even stay on your brooms during a training session…flying like a load of fairies…mincemeat of you next Saturday and I'll never be able to hold my head up at the Coach's Club again…back in those changing rooms now before I throttle the lot of you…I said NOW!..."

It was all eerily familiar. Harry got the gist and pointed his broom towards the club buildings.

"Hoi, Superstar!" the coach turned to him as he dismounted. "I want you in the simulator all afternoon. I wanna test your coordination when you're knackered after a long match! At least four hours. Gottit?"

"Yes, Coach!" he agreed.

"And for the last time, you can wipe that bleedin' smirk off your face, my lad!"

"Yes, Coach!" the more he tried, the harder it became.

"Oh, Digby tells me there's one of your groupies in Reception," he leered. "You know my views on hanky-panky before a match?"

"Yes, Coach?"

"Well, they apply to training sessions too!" Fergus threatened.

"Yes, Coach!"

Harry was delighted to find Remus waiting for him in reception, and both were amused by the 'groupie' comment. They headed into town for a light lunch before the afternoon training session. Harry did not notice the irony of his choice of pub until Remus wryly pointed it out.

"Are you in the Keeper's Arms very often?" he asked mildly. Harry flushed scarlet and Remus immediately felt ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry, Harry, that wasn't fair. Excuse me, I've had a bit of a shock."

"Oliver and I aren't really together," he said offhandedly. "We're just friends with benefits. But what's happened to you? Are you OK?"

"Severus," he began, then stopped. He was still reeling from the shock of being deceived over the greatest event in his life so far. Two plates of food arrived and were placed on the table in front of them but the scent turned Lupin's stomach. Harry, who had no such problems after a hard morning's flying, gave a snort as he dug in.

"What's the old git done now?" he felt an urge of protectiveness towards Remus.

"He lied to me," said Remus in a small voice. The Quidditch player managed not to roll his eyes. Snape lived his whole life in lies and deception. "About Saskia's conception. He told me at the time it was an accident, but last night I found a list…"

This time, Harry was unable to restrain the groan.

"Oh, Merlin, Remus. You should know better than to trust him! He isn't the type to lose himself in passion and get knocked up by accident! He sat down with his nasty little book and plotted and schemed until he decided who was the most profitable person to entrap. It's disgusting."

Remus stared at him aghast.

"You knew?"

Harry squirmed uncomfortably at the memory of discovering the book, being caught breaking and entering and being forced to keep the secret. He put his fork down gently.

"I found out that day when Mrs Weasley and Dumbledore caught me at Snape's place, when my final exam paper was in the room. Do you remember? It was sort of mutual blackmail – I kept quiet about the list if he didn't claim that I'd been cheating. If I had told you he could have had me kicked out of the Ministry in disgrace. With Molly and Albus as witnesses, it would have only taken one word from him," it had seemed vitally important at the time but now, far from the MLE with the exam a distant memory, the threat was much less effective. A much feebler reason to keep such an important secret from someone you loved.

Lupin swallowed with some difficulty, prodding listlessly at his vegetarian lasagne without really seeing it. He knew he ought to speak, if only to put dear Harry at ease, but no words would come.

"Remus," said Harry quietly. "I'm sorry. What will you do about this?"

"I don't know," he really didn't. Alexandra was his daughter; he loved her more than anything, but at that moment the thought of her existence made him mildly sick.

Harry was at a total loss. He dared not suggest never visiting Snape again, because that would estrange a parent and child – something he would never willingly do. Neither would his gentle ex-lover ever permit him to have a go at Snape in revenge. Actually, 'having a go' at Snape was a spectacularly bad idea anyway. For all his auror qualifications and his Order of Merlin awarded for the slaying of Voldemort, Harry knew he wouldn't stand much chance in a one-to-one fight with the potions master.

The memory of a rampaging Hungarian Horntail sprang unbidden to his mind, along with the warning that nesting mothers were the most ferocious creatures of all when protecting their young. His imagination gave the dragon a wand, and over forty years' practical experience of the dark arts. He gulped. He amended his earlier assessment to 'a snowball's chance in hell'.

His heart was bleeding for the older man, but he had no clue what to advise him to do. He thought of the way the twins often cheered people up with a bit of teasing.

"Look on the bright side," he winked, "The rest of us poor inferior beings were rejected as not good enough for his exacting standards. You were his ideal choice!"

The blank stare was not what the new Seeker had been hoping for. He looked at Harry, then at the congealing lasagne, then back at Harry.

"I never thought of it like that," he blinked. A wan smile played about the edges of Lupin's lips as he digested the information. "So you're saying that Severus…admires me?"

That was not what Harry had been trying to say at all. He backtracked hastily.

"I wouldn't go that far. He just looked at having a baby like…like he would brew a potion. He assessed all the available ingredients and chose the one which would produce the best results!"

"So, he wrote a list of every man he knew and I was the best?" Remus still looked dazed. He was not used to being the best at anything, yet Snape had obviously thought so. He had used scientific methods to prove it.

"Er," Harry was on dangerous ground here, unable to contradict him, yet unwilling to agree. In the end, he turned back to his plate without commenting either way.

…….

Snape returned from his emergency meeting with Albus feeling marginally less despondent. Hoping to get his own side of the story in before Remus delivered his, he had gone to Cosy Toes as early that morning as was decent to confess, taking Saskia with him as an emotional decoy.

He need not have worried. Dumbledore had listened to his edited version of events with something akin to amazed admiration on his face – the old manipulator clearly respected a fine example of his own dearest craft.

"Naughty Severus!" he had chided, though his eyes twinkled as he jigged the baby gently on his knee. "Alexandra, if you grow up to be half as cunning as your Papa, then the world had better watch out."

Her beautiful big eyes inspected him at length, visibly melting the old wizard's heart. Snape capitalised on his daughter's cuteness by biting his lower lip and sounding as contrite as his caustic personality would allow.

"I know it was wrong. I just wanted some family to love," he said quietly.

Albus pulled Saskia against his chest for a proper cuddle, allowing her to snuggle into his beard. His voice was strangely thick when he answered a few moments later.

"I understand, Severus. Completely."

When he left, the former headmaster had an odd, pensive expression on his face, as though the visit had made him begin pondering a highly important issue.

Saskia had fallen asleep soon after arriving back home. As Snape headed downstairs after putting her to bed in the nursery, he had begun planning his latest strategy when he caught a glimpse of himself in the hallway mirror. He froze.

He was the first to admit that he was not much of a looker. Had never been, in fact. He was well aware that even at the zenith of their youthful relationship, Lucius had been more attracted by his peculiar brand of devious intelligence than any physical attribute, and aside from Darius Westwood-Booth's frankly bizarre long-term hero-worship, no one else had shown the slightest sexual interest in him. His enemies had called him ugly, mocked his hair, skin and nose, even his parents had sighed over his lack of charm when he was a child. He was under no illusions about his appearance.

Yet it still came as a shock to see the reflection staring back at him that morning. He had been too occupied with pregnancy and the ups and downs of parenthood to notice the changes as they slowly crept over him.

After barely leaving the house for months, his face was the worst shade of jaundice-yellow it had ever been. Despite having bathed less than two hours ago, his skin was already shiny with a layer of oil, with two pus-filled pimples nestling on the left side of his great beak of a nose. Hormones, he supposed, had unfeelingly converted bad to worse. Purplish bags lowlighted his eyes, testament to the constant disruption of his sleep. Most surprising of all was his chin. Chins, rather. It had been necessary to gain some weight in order to safely bring the baby to term, but the combination of all those months of reduced activity, overeating and the loss of his old schooltime routine of relentless corridor-stalking had made him decidedly…there was no other word for it…podgy.

He sneered at the mirror in distaste, which did nothing to improve the view. Taking a step backwards, he unbuttoned his outer robe and inspected his flabby waistline and the damp patch on his chest where his left breast had leaked, yet again, with mounting horror. How could the perfect little creature upstairs be in any way connected with the hideous thing who had borne her? This would not do at all.

Snape knew that nothing short of radical physiology-altering potions would ever make him handsome, but he could at least try and get himself back to the level of ugliness to which he had been accustomed before the birth. Exercise, more fresh air (though the thought of it made his lip curl, it would be better for Saskia too), specialist skin treatments and some kind of device to stop him dripping milk all over the place. He might consult Molly about the last thing. She would know.

All these measures would take time to bear fruit. For the moment there was nothing he could do to improve himself, no quick-fix solution to sweeten the unpleasant revelation that he was a really nasty-looking beast in the meantime. Or was there? He examined his lank, greasy hair, which had grown during his pregnancy so that it now hung limply past his shoulders and down his back.

He had never gone to the trouble of doing his hair for his own benefit before – only as a special treat for Lucius or to get his way when in confrontation with an adversary. However, at that moment, the idea of having just one single non-repellent feature became suddenly appealing.

Ignoring the twinge of masculine scorn at the idea of acquiring self-confidence by endeavouring to beautify himself, he headed for the bathroom and activated the Secret Weapon.

…….

AN: Yay! Approximately 7 chapters later than I anticipated, the SW comes out again! Let's see what havoc it manages to wreak this time.

Of course, when Fergus Alexson accuses them of flying like fairies, he is not making any comment on the sexuality of his players, he is talking about actual fairies…

Thanks for reading, and another huge thank you for all the kind reviews. I seem to have 'Ten bad pixies, knocking down a wall' in my head after writing this chapter. I apologise if anyone else is suffering too.

PS Happy Belated Birthday to Severus on 9th Jan! Bless his conniving little heart.