Chapter Seven

Troublemakers

Early Saturday morning, Hermione was startled by a knock on her door. It was Severus, holding Carly.

"What are you doing here? I was going to go down to Hogwarts after breakfast."

"Don't bother," he said curtly. "We're working here today."

It had been a couple of weeks since the administration of the Magic Elixir (they still hadn't come up with a better name), but Hermione was still surprised by the fact that Carly could giggle.

"What happened?" she asked curiously.

"Coffee first," said Severus harshly.

Hermione grabbed a mug out of the cupboard. "Lucky for you, I just brewed some."

The potions master drank a sip of the dark brew and exhaled sharply. "Strong stuff there! Don't apologize, I need all the caffeine I can get. It seems Christopher Lupin is an early riser—"

"Christopher? What's he doing at Hogwarts?"

"Visiting Hagrid. You know how Hagrid is."

Hermione nodded. The half-giant had been elated upon hearing of the Adoption Act, and then was crushed to learn that he wasn't considered an eligible parent.

"He was having a sleepover at Hagrid's, evidently, and he woke up before Hagrid did. And somehow he got it in his head that it would be fun to ride a Blast-Ended Skrewt."

"Oh my word! Is he okay?"

"As good as ever, I imagine. I don't think anything could hurt that child. He didn't just ride it; he harnessed it somehow and directed it up the front steps and into the Entrance Hall…"

And it was the mother skrewt, too, so all its babies were following it, added Carly with a chuckle.

"The Great Hall was still locked for the night, so he started up the stairs towards Gryffindor tower."

Enter Sarah McGonagall! Carly's little smirk was the closest she could come to a real smile.

"Ah yes, Sarah McGonagall. I don't believe Minerva knew what that child was capable of when she selected her. That girl would give the Weasley twins a run for their money. She didn't know what Mr. Lupin was up to, of course; she was up early for her own nefarious reason. Pranking her adoptive mother."

At this point Hermione abandoned her half-hearted attempts at eating breakfast and snickered.

"No one's sure what she actually meant to do. All we know is that Minerva heard a skrewt blast, opened her door, and found Sarah outside holding a bouquet of roses, a bucket of pitch, and some hippogriff dung. And she was saying, 'Hurry up, Peeves!' But Peeves saw that they were caught, so he took off down the hall—"

And decided to cause a skrewt stampede! interjected Carly.

"To make a long story short, the students are barricaded in their common rooms, while Hagrid and Minerva try to round up the skrewts. I really didn't think it would be a good day for you and Stephen to come visit."

Hermione wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes. "Well, there aren't any house elves here to watch the children. But we can manage for a day, can't we?"

Severus frowned at his now-empty coffee cup. "I hadn't thought of that. But anything the children cook up will be better than herds of Blast-Ended Skrewts, right?"

"True enough," remarked Hermione, before she resumed shoveling her porridge into her mouth in a methodical fashion.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Severus Snape regarded the small dishes of finely minced ingredients before him. "Comfrey, sage, wolfsbane…"

"Dice the valerian root next," ordered Hermione, who was meticulously slicing mermaid scales into paper-thin wafers.

"I knew that," he snapped.

"Uh huh, right," mumbled Hermione sarcastically.

"Bossy Know-It-All."

"Bitter bastard."

"Bushy-haired bitch."

"Insecure bat."

"Insecure? That's a new one," commented Severus mildly, eying the last slice of valerian root, which was just a hair too thin. He tossed it to the side, rotated the remaining slices ninety degrees, and resumed his methodical slicing. The personal insults had become a form of recreation for the two of them; they much preferred the verbal sparring of a debate, but it was dangerous to engage in such talk while brewing.

"I don't know," frowned Hermione, pushing the mermaid scales aside. "It's far too quiet in the sitting room. I have a feeling they're getting in trouble."

"Maybe they're asleep?" inquired Severus hopefully. "It's three o'clock, just about nap time."

They regarded one another a moment before proclaiming, in unison, "Legilimency!"

Carly and Stephen were certainly capable of communicating with each other via Legilimency. However, neither of them had learned yet how to focus their thought broadcasts. Anyone even remotely capable of Legilimency themselves could listen in to the conversation without even making eye contact. And so Severus and Hermione stopped just inside the door to the hall and "listened."

How close am I?

Stretch up another inch or so.

Yeah, I've got it!

Good job, Stephen. Almost there.

These books are sticking out so much, I can't see what I'm doing. How close is my hand to the top?

I can't see. Hold on a moment, let me change perspective here…

There was a loud thump from the direction of the sitting room. Snape flung the door open and ran down the hall, followed closely by Hermione.

Carly was lying on the sitting room floor. Her legs were lying limply, as usual, but she was using her arms to pull herself over the floor. Stephen was perched on one of the tall bookshelves: his feet were planted on the fourth shelf, one hand was holding on tightly to the fifth shelf, and his other hand was waving up around some bulky books, trying to locate the very top of the piece of furniture.

Both adults stood paralyzed for a while, trying to take in the implications of the scene before them. Carly broke the ice with a pleased, "Hi Da!" Immediately Severus rushed to his daughter, swooped her up in his arms, and gave her a big hug.

"Working here is much better than herds of Blast-Ended Skrewts. Sure," snarled Hermione sarcastically, snatching her son off of the bookshelf.

"They were much better than the Skrewts. If you'd been at Hogwarts, you'd agree," protested Severus, tickling Carly's tummy. "Your arm control is getting very good, young lady. Nonetheless, next time, please practice under controlled conditions."

oOoOoOoOoOo

That evening, the four of them sat around Hermione's kitchen table, devouring shepherd's pie.

Do you think it's safe to return to Hogwarts yet? Carly might be able to speak out loud nowadays, but she still resorted to Legilimency during mealtime.

"Don't speak with your mouth full," joked Hermione. "I imagine Minerva has everything under control by now."

Severus was staring out the window, oblivious to the conversation. His large, crooked nose twitched, and his forehead crinkled. "You didn't leave the oven on, did you, Hermione?"

"Of course not," she replied, shooting a glance at the oven knob to make sure her memory was correct.

"And no fire in the hearth, correct?"

Hermione sniffed cautiously and detected a faint smell of smoke. Leaping from her seat, she strode quickly around the house, searching for the souree of the elusive smell. "I think it's coming from outside," she said, stopping next to the open sitting room window.

"Maybe the Blast-ended Skrewts escaped and set fire to the Forbidden Forest? I think we should go outside and take a look."

"I come too!" squealed Stephen, running to fetch his shoes.

When they got out onto High Street, the source of the smoke became obvious. A block of flats directly behind the Three Broomsticks was ablaze. Frantic residents were casting Aguamenti spells in an attempt to extinguish the flames. Sparks had jumped over to adjacent buildings—the pub, the post office, and Zonko's—and several wizards and witches were trying to extinguish the smaller fires before they spread further. Severus thrust Carly into Hermione's arms and ran off, wand drawn, to join the firefighters.

Stephen watched, gleefully, as the burning dwelling collapsed in a shower of sparks. "Do it again!" he exclaimed, jumping up and down in excitement.

When the fire was mostly extinguished, Hermione approached an exhausted and bedraggled Severus Snape. Still holding Carly, she used her free hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

"Here he is! I found the culprit!" A witch dressed in slightly scorched purple robes was dragging a black-haired boy behind her. The grubby child had a mahogany wand clutched firmly in his grasp. "He was doing lots of Incendio spells, I saw him! He was standing right in the middle of the building, shooting fire everywhere! He's the one who did all this!"

Percy Weasley stepped forward. "So that's what happened to my wand. Edward Weasley! What on earth did you think you were doing?"

"I'm Edward Cathcart. Edward Cathcart, do you hear me? I told you that I wouldn't live in your stinking flat any longer and now there's no way that I can!"

A tear ran down Percy's cheek. "But you could have died," he whispered.

"Would it have really mattered if I had?" growled the dark-haired child.

Percy threw his arms around his son and sobbed. "It would have mattered to me. You're still my boy, even if we have to sleep in a rubbish bin."

"Percy Ignatius Weasley!" snapped a plump, red-haired woman, who was pushing her way through the crowd. "I will not have any of my children sleeping in rubbish bins, do you hear me? Nor grandchildren, either," she remarked sternly, affixing Edward under her indignant glare.

Her lecture was interrupted by a loud cheep that seemed to be emanating from her apron pocket. "Oh, goodness me," she said, frowning, "I thought I'd put all the chickies back with Fluffers, but it looks like I've missed one." She pulled a little ball of fluff out of the pocket and showed it to the quivering child before her. "Want to help me feed my chickens? Fluffers just hatched a brood today. And I'll give you a bit of supper when we're done. There's trifle for pudding tonight. Percy, you will come home as soon as you've finished cleaning up this mess."

The lanky redhead nodded meekly at his mother's demand, then turned to start discussing reparations with the owner of his building. Molly walked down the street with her newly-discovered grandchild, muttering under her breath, "And if you'd kept in touch with Penelope, you'd know that she's a therapist at St. Mungo's now. Heaven only knows what this little treasure has been through…"

"I don't suppose you have any alcohol at home, do you?" sighed Snape. "Minerva doesn't allow me to keep any at the school, and I don't think either of the pubs is open." Looking around, Hermione noticed both Madame Rosmerta and the bartender from the Hog's Head up on the roof of the Three Broomsticks, putting out glowing embers and casting Reparo spells on the thatch.

"I do, actually. Scotch okay?"

"Perfect," sighed the Potions Master.

oOoOoOoOoOo

When the clock struck nine, the children were both asleep in cots in Stephen's bedroom, and Hermione and Severus were snuggled up together on the sofa, both snoozing. Severus opened his eyes open as the last chime sounded.

"Wake up Hermione. You need to get to bed."

"I'm afraid to," she mumbled blearily. "Everything keeps getting worse and worse. Who's to say what will happen if I fall asleep?"

"You're already asleep," he whispered softly. "Would it make you feel better if I stayed here, on the couch?"

"That would help," she sighed, as she struggled to pull herself to her feet. But what I'd really like is to have you stay with me, holding me like you just were. Because I've never felt so comfortable in my life.

Severus helped her walk to bed and tucked her in. "Sweet dreams, Hermione. Tomorrow will be better." She was already asleep before he finished saying the words. She didn't notice when he leaned down and kissed her gently on the forehead.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Author's Notes: Thanks to excessivelyperky to spurring me into action! Between a child's birthday (and accompanying grandparent visit) early in December, a bunch of creeping crud mid-month (the boys, PapaWeasley, and I all got rather sick), and Christmas preparations, I think my muse got overwhelmed and fled in terror. I will try to get the next chapter up in 2-3 weeks. After that, things should go a bit more quickly, since I only have minor adjustments to make to already-written chapters.

Coming next: Chapter Eight: Celebrations. Things go well for our favorite couple. After all, nothing could be worse than this last chapter, right?