Chapter 1 – A Grumbly Guest

For he came one night to her bed feet
And a grumbly guest I'm sure was he
Saying "Here I am, thy bairn's father
Although I be not comely."

Severus Snape watched the small cottage, and the woman working in the garden with a toddler at her side. Brown curls topped the boy's head in an unruly mop, and black eyes were darting everywhere. And even from where he stood, hidden by a charm from Muggle eyes, he could hear the boy asking what things were, pointing his chubby finger at them for his mother to identify.

"Mummy, who's dat?" The boy's roving eyes had fallen on Severus, and he pointed his finger strait at the tall wizard.

The Muggle woman looked up, a frown of puzzlement on her face. "There's no one there, little one."

The boy's brows drew together, a scowl gathering on his face as he stomped one bare foot. "There!" He pointed emphatically at Severus. "Tall crow-man."

"I don't see anyone there, Ryan." The Muggle woman looked over in Severus's direction again, her eyes sliding to one side as the charm subtly redirected her attention. She stood, reaching down to pick up the boy. "I think you've had enough sun today, poppet. Time to go inside for tea."

Two years it had taken him to find this place. Because he was not allowed to know of his son, or where he was. You know it was better for everyone that he remained hidden. And that the stubborn, smug arrogance that Potter inherited from his father has kept your son safe for those two years. Along with the sidekick, and Granger.

His lips twisted into a sneer as he thought back on the confrontation with the trio after he'd found out Granger had hidden his son. His son. She had no right to take him away from me. No matter what she thought of me, no matter what she thought of those days. I had an obligation to save her life. She was needed, as ill as that makes me. But she had no right to hide my son from me!

A snarl crossed his face before he clenched his fists, spinning away from the Muggle cottage. He could not simply barge in there and take the boy away from the couple who were raising him. Not unless he wanted to find the boy returned to them, and himself in a cell in Azkaban.

No. I cannot allow them to take my son away from me once he is returned to my custody, where he should have been from the beginning. You will not win this little war of ours, Granger. I will have my son raised under circumstances I dictate, not you. A child's welfare is the responsibility of the father, and the choice of how to raise a child is likewise the father's choice. Not the mother's, unless the father is dead, or cannot be determined. And you well knew that was my son!

With a grimace, he began the long hike to the shore, and the small boat that waited there. A brief wish that he could Apparate from where he was crossed Snape's mind, but was ruthlessly dismissed as irrelevant. I should have come looking here first. It's the only place in Britain one can't Apparate to or from that's larger than a single building.

He hadn't thought Granger would leave his son so close to him, though, and thus it had taken far longer than he liked to find where she had hidden him.

Ryan, that Muggle woman called him. I will have to correct that flaw. No son of mine will be called by such a Muggle name. Aquilo, as I had told her, the foolish girl. Aquilo Tobias Snape.

Snape tapped the back of the boat after he settled himself in it, a scowl on his face as it sped towards the small cove his informant had told him a boat was hidden. One that would take him to his son. His lip curled as he thought of whom he was indebted to. You should have thought before you told Longbottom, Granger. He is far more law-abiding than you ever will be, despite your Auror friends. Or perhaps you thought you could get away with this because you have Aurors for friends, did you?

Once the stony cliffs that nearly encircled the cove had blocked the sun, the boat slowed, coming to a gentle halt against the pier that was hidden where a cave had been hollowed out. For the sole purpose of allowing the boat and its pier to be hidden from the prying eyes of those on the cliffs above.

A young man was standing at the end of the pier, watching him with eyes that were far less frightened than they had been when Severus had been teaching at Hogwarts. "Did you find him? Hermione never told me which family she left him with." He frowned, a line appearing between his brows. "I don't understand why she tried to do this, Professor. I even asked her, and she asked me why she shouldn't have."

Snape snorted. "And did you even bother to attempt to explain it to her, Longbottom?"

"No, sir." Longbottom shook his head. "She wouldn't have understood." He shrugged, holding out the Port-Key to Snape. "It's something that the Muggles haven't done for almost a century, after all. She wouldn't understand why wizards still do."

Snape took a firm grip on the greasy newspaper, closing his eyes as he was tugged along, opening them only once he was sure his feet were steady beneath his feet. "You mean she'd be appalled, and try to change it."

Longbottom shrugged. "She'd have some supporters, you know. Not everyone likes the laws about blood-purity and child custody." He paused, tucking the newspaper back into the case he carried with him everywhere now. "I don't like the blood-purity laws."

Snape shrugged, tapping his wand against the gate they'd landed in front of. "The laws exist, and are unlikely to change. There is no point to whining about them."

He heard a sigh from the other wizard as Neville followed him through the weedy front garden. "You have one of the most fatalistic attitudes of anyone I've met, Professor. Even Gran isn't nearly as fatalistic about everything."

Unlocking the door, Snape stood aside to let Longbottom into the gloomy house. It was larger than his place on Spinner's End, but it was safer now, and had better facilities for brewing potions. I would be happier if I didn't have to share it with Longbottom.

"I'll put on the kettle for tea, Professor." Longbottom vanished down the dark hall that led towards the kitchen at the back of the house. "You probably want to check on the potions in the laboratory."

Snape rolled his eyes, ensuring the locks on the door were bolted, and the complex series of hexes and charms that kept intruders from using magic to enter were in place once more before he headed for the laboratory that had taken over what had once been the dining room. Three cauldrons were simmering gently, and he critically checked their color and consistency. All three potions were none the worse for wear having been left unattended for the last hour.

They will have to come off the heat at sunset, and be chilled overnight. Bring them to room temperature at sunrise, then bottle. He carefully locked the door to the laboratory as he left, making his way to the kitchen from memory, where a steaming mug of tea was waiting on the table.

"You know, a child is not going to like this place." Neville watched Snape over his glass of brandy that evening, as the older wizard skimmed through a letter from Dumbledore. "It's too dark and foreboding for a young child."

Snape snorted softly. "I did well enough in worse circumstances."

Neville rolled his eyes. "You're an anti-social man with an unhealthy obsession with old wrongs, Professor." He set the glass of brandy aside, crossing his arms when Snape glared at him. "Don't deny it. You tormented Harry for seven years because you couldn't let go of what his father did to you while you were a student. And you still can't get along with Sirius, even though he's changed since you both were in school."

For one, he's settled down, and he's a father. It rather makes a man change. Or at least, one would hope. He held Snape's gaze, knowing the man could get into his thoughts if he tried. It doesn't appear to have changed you too terribly much. You're still obsessive and you're still anti-social.

"And what does that have to do with fetching my son from the Muggles who are currently raising him?"

"It has nothing to do with getting your son. But what are you going to do once you bring him back here? You can't just expect a two-year-old to understand when you give orders, and you can't really expect a small child to deal well with being cooped up inside all the time." He paused. "And you know someone will notice there's a child here, and tell Hermione or Ron or Harry."

"And what would you propose I do, Longbottom?" Snape was giving him a disdainful look, and Neville pushed aside the urge to roll his eyes again.

"Either leave Aquilo with the Muggles for a few more years, until the war is over, and the Death Eaters mopped up, for his safety. After you have a long talk with the Muggles, of course, and you could, perhaps, leave the house-elf with them. Or you bring the Muggles here along with Aquilo."

"And why would I bring Muggles here, Longbottom?"

"For their protection." Neville shrugged. "You and I both know that island is not going to remain as safe as it was when Hermione left Aquilo there. The Death Eaters aren't going to let it remain safe, not now that most of Britain is terrified of them."

"So you would have me playing the hero," Snape sneered, the letter forgotten in his lap.

Neville chuckled dryly. "No. I'll tell them it was my idea." He picked up his glass of brandy again, swirling the amber liquid for a moment before taking a sip. "Since it is, after all, my fault you know where Aquilo is." He paused. "What do the Muggles call him?"

Snape let out a snort of disgust. "Ryan. No son of mine is going to be known by such a Muggle name."

You are so fiercely anti-Muggle, Professor, that it's almost impossible to remember your father was a Muggle. Neville frowned, looking over his thought a moment. Actually, no, it's rather obvious, if you think about it. No pure-blood is quite so avidly anti-Muggle as you are. Even the worst of the Death Eaters feel they have some purpose. Even if that purpose is their own perverted amusement.

"I would suggest you quite speculating on why I am the way I am, Longbottom," Snape said silkily, and Neville winced.

"Sorry, sir. I will try not to." Neville finished his glass of brandy, and stood. "Good night, Professor. I will see you in the morning."

"Good night," Snape replied curtly, picking up the letter again, continuing where he had left off as Neville padded out of the room.

Snape crossed his arms, glaring at his reflection in the mirror for a moment before transferring his glare to Longbottom. "Is this necessary?"

"You don't think Hermione told them she was a witch, do you?" Longbottom was giving him a critical once over. "And I don't think your normal choices of Muggle attire are going to reassure them."

"There is nothing wrong with my normal Muggle attire for undercover work." Severus itched to pull the simple trousers and shirt out of his wardrobe, and dress in them. If he had to dress as a Muggle, he'd prefer to chose his own clothing.

"If where you're going is Muggle London, that would be fine. Bloody hell, Professor, your normal work robes would barely be noticed in Muggle London. But this isn't Muggle London, and you need to look professional, besides." He paused. "Unless you want me to talk to them?"

Snape scowled once more at the suit Longbottom had presented him with that morning. "No," he said curtly. "I will speak with the Muggles, and I will bring them here."

Better to have Muggles here, than have my son out of my care. And if they want to remain on that island, I'll bring Aquilo here without them.

"What if they don't want to come?" Longbottom handed him an attaché case, that contained the paperwork Snape had worked on last night.

Snape gave him a cold look. "They will come, or they will give me Aquilo. I do not care which option they chose to take." He straightened the suit jacket with a sneer, and headed for the door. "You will have the rooms ready when I return, Longbottom."

Longbottom nodded. "Yes, sir."