AN: it's been awhile. I really don't have a lot to say about my absence apart from the fact that I am very sorry and I hope it won't happen again. If there are still people out there reading this, I appreciate it and I hope this new chapter is acceptable. I'd also really appreciate any and all feedback, as I haven't written anything remotely noteworthy in so long, it's almost like I've forgotten how to do it. So, please let me know what you think.
Disclaimer: own nothing, just taking them out for a spin
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Reality is really a rather horrible thing. Truly torturous even. No matter how hard I try, no matter how much of my time I spend trying to find a way around it, reality always has a way of turning around and biting me in the--
"Severus!"
Foot. Yes, reality has a way of turning around and biting me in the foot. This is because my reality is a wife named Hermione and the three children she brought into this world to drive me insane. Okay, there may be a slight possibility that Hermione did not give birth to triplets with the specific intention of driving me insane, but the little brats are making my life hell.
"Severus! What on earth are you doing?"
Don't answer that.
"Severus?"
"At the risk of sounding inappropriately feminine, I just broke a nail."
"What?"
Is there any possibility that I will emerge from this with even a shred of dignity?
"I broke a nail."
"So you started screaming obscenities? While our children are asleep in the next room."
Judging by the look on her face, Hermione is not appreciative of my choice of words in my current predicament.
"It hurt."
"Honestly, Severus! You have been in slightly more pain than a broken nail."
"As much as I enjoy talking of the numerous and varied pains of my existence, do you have a point?"
"Fine. How did you break a nail?"
"I was looking for a stack of parchment that I need to look over. However, I was having difficulty in locating anything in the complete mess that was once my clean and tidy, not to mention orderly office." I glance pointedly around the room and raise my eyebrows. "Since this was once my office, and therefore my personal working space, I was not expecting to find anything remotely related to the children in this room. While sifting through some of these things, I closed the drawer to the desk and--"
"And you broke a nail."
"That's right."
"And not only did you somehow manage to break a nail while closing a desk drawer, you are trying to lay the blame with your children. I see."
"You are making it sound worse than it is."
"No, Severus, you are making it sound worse than it is. I have never once heard you scream like that. Now, I know you have a flair for dramatics-"
"Excuse me, I happen to have had a very stressful day."
"Stressful? I thought you spent the day with the children."
"I did. The traitorous beasts were conspiring against me."
"Severus, they're barely--"
"I know how old they are, Hermione."
"Really? Then it shouldn't be beyond your capabilities to realise that they do not yet have the mental capacity to conspire against anyone… Did you refer to our children as beasts?"
"I-"
"You referred to our children as beasts!"
"Well-"
"Severus! These are our children! You never refer to them as beasts!"
"What would you have me do instead, Hermione? It's not likely that I will ever refer to them as bloody angels!"
"I don't expect you to refer to them as angels, Severus. I don't want you to become a doting parent incapable of discipline. I don't want you to spoil our children with indulgence-"
The likelihood of that happening is about equal to that of seeing Voldemort rise again to do a quick can-can with Mad-Eye Moody.
"I do, however, expect you to show a touch more restraint with the language you use around our children! It's bad enough the way you treat other people's children-"
"This has absolutely nothing to do with my teaching methods, Hermione. This is about you and it's about me. Nothing else!"
"No! This is to do with our children. Our children and the way you act around them!"
Oh dear, whenever Hermione gets shrill like this…damn it, Snape! Focus! Answer her! Now is not the time to back down! Now is not the time for lengthy pauses for contemplation!
"The way I act around them?"
"Yes, the way you act around them. Would it be so very hard for you to call your children by their names? You do remember their names, don't you?"
"No, actually I've forgotten all about the hours worth of fights we endured over what we were to call the precious little shits! You know what I do remember, Hermione? You saying yourself that the little angels were incapable of conspiring against me, what makes you so very sure that they understand the difference between being called beasts or angels?"
Or the other myriad of names I have for them when Hermione is safely out of hearing range and, consequently, I am safely out of firing range.
"You are comparing their ability to conspire against you with your persistent verbal abuse?"
Verbal abuse? I always saw it as an almost overwhelming downpour of affection on my part. Oh holy fuck, she's staring at me. She must expect a response. Quick, Snape! Time for something cutting!
"Er-"
Oh, you slash her with your words.
"Severus." She is obviously making an effort to calm down, I suppose I should be grateful she isn't yelling anymore. "There is something I need you to do, I want you to stop calling the children beasts. If you can think of nothing more appropriate to call them in the way of endearments then simply call them by their names. Can you do that?"
I cannot believe it! She is trying to use guilt on me! And she's trying to make me feel like a moronic two year old incapable of rational thought. This is simply unacceptable.
"Would these have to be pre-approved endearments? Should I have you check them for their suitability first?"
"Severus, be serious. Can you do that?"
"Well, that depends. Can you?"
"Can I what?"
"Can you restrict yourself to calling the children appropriate endearments?"
"I call the children by their names."
"Really? Always? You don't occasionally call them something that is less than appropriate?"
"What?"
"They've never pushed you to express your frustration verbally?"
"Severus--"
"You've never felt the need to call them a trio of unearthly creatures from hell?"
I shouldn't enjoy that look on her face so much. I really shouldn't.
"How did you-"
"How did I know that you thought that about our trio of angelic beasts? I heard you say it, with quite a bit of feeling the last time Potter was here. And may I say, not your best work, Hermione. I always depend upon your creativity and, though I'd be able to overlook the lack of originality in your assessment of our children, I cannot abide the logic."
"The logic?"
I find her confusion disturbingly endearing. Damn it, Snape! Focus!
"Yes, the logic. One would assume that creatures from hell would not meet the requirements of being 'earthly', at least not in the strictest sense, Hermione."
"Severus, what on earth are you talking about?"
"Double standards in the home, Hermione. Not very generous of you."
"I-"
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry." Her voice has gone very soft and there was a suspicious wobble in her words… Wobble in her words? Merlin, I need sleep.
"Not to worry. I'm sure you didn't mean it."
She falls silent and looks at the carpet. Strange, Hermione never found this carpet particularly interesting before. I cast about desperately for something to say. Damn it, Snape! Think!
Now, I have become accustomed to awkward silences over the years, my mere presence usually causing a significant decline in conversation, but I find that the silences Hermione and I have been sharing of late have been fairly uncomfortable. Silence from her is not always as good a thing as one would expect. Silence gives her time to think, regroup and find flaws in my argument that can't possibly be there. I know that I must move fast to press my admittedly small advantage, and steer her away from the subject of our children.
"Er-" She looks at me hopefully, perhaps wanting a change of subject as much as I do. "I think this room needs cleaning."
Brilliant, Snape. That's sure to get her mind off the children, calling to her attention for the second time in ten minutes just how much mess they leave about the place.
"Go on then."
"Do you suppose--"
"Yes, I'll help."
She's staring at me in a way that can only mean trouble. Maybe she's waiting for me to move so she can hex me? Merlin, I hope not. Hermione can be downright nasty when she's angry.
"You were eavesdropping on me?"
What?
"Pardon?"
"You were eavesdropping on me?"
"No, I wasn't eavesdropping on you. You were speaking loudly. Too loudly, especially considering our children were sleeping not far away."
"I--"
"Had a bad day?"
"Yes." The look of guilt on her face disappears quickly as she slowly narrows her eyes. "I seem to be having a lot of those lately, and you are definitely not helping!"
"I'm not helping? What about you?"
"What about me? Severus, I don't have a job anymore, I gave it up to take care of our children."
"And that is supposed to make it all better? The fact that you don't have to work every day?"
"Don't have to work? You think it's easy to take care of three mewling infants?"
"Mewling infants? Caterwauling beasts, more like."
"DO NOT CALL OUR CHILDREN BEASTS!"
A high pitched noise, not unlike those made while a cat is being slowly tortured, sounds through the room.
"Now look what you've done!"
"What I've done? Hermione, I was not the one screaming."
"If you hadn't called our children BEASTS I wouldn't have been screaming!"
They are beasts. Noisy bloody beasts.
"I wasn't screaming anyway."
Is there no way to shut them up?
"Aren't you even going to offer to help?"
Voluntarily move closer to that racket?
"Severus?"
Merlin, certainly only dogs should be able to hear this level of noise.
"Are you just going to stand there or are. You. Going. To. Help?"
I look at Hermione, noticing she has gone slightly red in the face. I hope she doesn't pull out her wand, not only can she be downright nasty when she's angry, she can be pretty bloody creative with her hexes.
"Severus! Answer me!"
Her hand moves to her hips and I glance frantically around for a way to escape. I can't take this. The noise, the mess, Hermione's mood swings, the noise. It also doesn't help just how attractive Hermione can be when she's all… Damn it, Snape! Focus! How can I fucking focus with all that fucking noise?
"Fine! I'll do it all myself. There's something new and different for me!"
I really do wish she wouldn't yell like that. She stomps away, certainly she is too old to be stomping anymore, and opens the door to the children's nursery. I really do hate the fact that I am forced to call a section of my chambers a blasted nursery. I especially hate the nursery when the door is open and the level of noise increases the way it just did.
"SILENCIO!"
My wand is out and the spell cast before I can properly think through my actions. I glance at my outstretched arm in something akin to horror. I quickly drop my arm and slip my wand back into my robes. Hermione stalks back into the room. On closer inspection, a stomping Hermione is much more desirous than a stalking Hermione.
"What did you do?"
Don't answer that.
"Severus."
Oh holy fuck.
"Did you or did you not just use magic on the children?"
"I--"
"You used magic on the CHILDREN!"
I wonder if she'd believe me if I said it wasn't me.
"Severus?"
A disobedient house elf, perhaps.
"I--"
Hermione looks at me angrily for a moment, before abruptly turning away and sighing. She brings her hand up to her face and sighs again. I'm not sure if I should be relieved or reaching for my wand.
"Severus." Her voice sounds incredibly tired and when she turns back to face me, I blink is stupidly at the look in her eyes. I know that look. I've caused that look before.
"Hermione, I--"
"Don't. Just don't. I don't need to hear it. Severus, please do not use magic on the children. It really can't be good for their development."
"Their development? That's what this is about?" I grow unaccountably angry at her casual dismissal of the situation. "Their fucking development?"
"Language, Severus," Hermione says icily.
"Language? You want me to fucking watch my fucking language, Hermione?" She opens her mouth, no doubt to yell something inappropriate at me again. Typical. I move to cut her off. "You know what I think the real problem is? Magic isn't good for their development? Having them making so much noise at all hours of the day and the god awful nights can hardly be good for our sanity!"
"Don't be ridiculous, Severus. This isn't about that."
"Of course not. Raising children has absolutely nothing to do with sanity."
"Severus."
Oh dear, that tone of voice is never ever good. Unless of course it is at a time when neither of us are quite so formally attired. The times when Hermione would…damn it, Snape! Focus!
"Oh, very well. Though that spell was hardly damaging to their precious little souls."
Here's hoping.
"That is hardly the point. Besides, how can you be entirely sure? Are you certain, and I mean absolutely certain, that this spell is not causing damage? Possibly severe damage? Even emotional damage?" Ah, here is the Hermione I'm used to. Inane prattle and endless questions. "Did you think of that, Severus? How often have you done this to them? Did you even stop to consider the possibilities? The consequences of what you're doing to our children?"
To be honest, I hadn't. I had thought only to silence the insufferable brats. And I must say, it worked tremendously well. In fact, with the way Hermione is carrying on, I would very much like to use it on her.
Somehow, I don't see that going over too well.
"Severus? Severus are you even listening to me?"
"Probably not."
Shit.
"What?"
Ah yes, another of my wishes coming true. I hope for a decrease in both pitch and volume, I get dangerous calm. Joy. At least that look has gone from her eyes.
"Severus, what did you say?"
Don't answer that.
"Severus?"
I mean it.
"Honestly, Severus! Answer me!"
"Nothing. I didn't say anything. And if, by some strange chance, I did happen to say something, it probably wasn't anything important. Certainly not worth remembering."
"No, I don't imagine anything you're saying right now would be important, but I imagine it is worth remembering."
Damn she's good.
"The point is, the children are fine, and thankfully silent. We are both exhausted, sleep would be mutually beneficial. Wouldn't you agree?"
"I don't know where your mind has been wandering off to for the majority of our conversation, but agreeing with you right now is not exactly on my list of priorities. They are our children., Severus. It was very irresponsible of you to use magic on them."
"Ah yes, but that was just a once in a life time occurrence, wasn't it? Ordinarily, I am of course the epitome of all things responsible and a fine, respected citizen."
"This is hardly the time for jokes."
Who's joking?
"Severus…"
"No, I don't suppose it is."
"Severus, all I am asking you to do is refrain from using magic on the children. At least until they're a little older."
"I see. Yes, that's perfectly reasonable. By your logic, I can use magic on our children when they are a little older. Does this include all magic, or just simple charms?"
"No, but, er… Severus, the point is, it's not fair to the children for you to use magic on them, even if it was only a silencing charm. How would you feel if they cast a silencing charm on you?"
"I would be ecstatic, telling all and sundry about my extremely young, incapable of rational thought children's collective magical, not to mention wandless, abilities."
"Severus, they can't defend themselves! It's just wrong to use this kind of magic directly on the children!"
"Can I use it indirectly?"
"How exactly would you use a silencing charm on them indirectly?"
"I will find a way."
"No. Don't sulk, it's for your own good." Severus Snape does not sulk! "Now, I am going to go and calm the children down. Try not to yell anymore."
"I wasn't--"
"Just try." With that, Hermione turns around and walks through the open door of the nursery.
Fuck the nursery. I hate the fucking nursery. I look around the room again and my eyes land on my potions cabinet; the place I keep all my most dangerous potions and ingredients. Conveniently enough, it is also where I keep my emergency stash of Firewhisky. I walk quickly across the room and grab the bottle of Firewhisky and the large glass I always need to keep hidden from Hermione; she always said that this glass always encouraged me to drink more than I should. I never bothered to tell her that when I feel the need for hard liquor, there is no further encouragement required. She doesn't need to know that.
I fill the glass half way, stare dubiously at the bottle, then fill the glass to the top. Strange, I could have sworn that the last time I was driven to drink something more potent than tea, the bottle wasn't nearly so full. In fact, I distinctly remember stumbling around and cursing just how empty it appeared to be. In a completely reserved and incredibly dignified kind of way, of course.
Surely I wasn't that drunk… I never let it get so far that I can't remember the night's events through the haze of the morning hangover. I must of replaced it. Yes, or perhaps it was never as empty as I thought. I raise the glass to my lips.
I was pretty bloody drunk, after all.
Glancing around the room once more, I raise my glass in mock salute to the mess surrounding me, briefly lamenting that Hermione wasn't here to see my ironic genius. Bringing the glass once more to my lips I realise that it is probably best that Hermione doesn't see this. She would not be best pleased. I open my mouth and swirl the liquid around in my mouth for a moment, before promptly spitting it all across the room, thoroughly spraying my desk in the process. Gasping and coughing, I glare first at the glass in my hand, and then the mess I've made of my desk, noting with displeasure the parchment I was searching for earlier bore the brunt of my assault.
"What the f--"
"Language, Severus."
"Hermione! What the-- What did you-- How did--"
"Severus, calm down. Don't wake the children."
Believe me, I don't want the wretched little urchins to wake up either.
"Hermione," I say with admirable calm. "Would you care to explain why my Firewhisky tastes distinctly like week-old, room temperature tea?"
Though come to think of it, I've never actually tried week-old, room temperature tea.
"You mean the Firewhisky that you're not supposed to have, which I'm not supposed to know about?"
Is there a right answer to that question?
"I've been meaning to replace it."
"You've been what?"
"Well, a week ago I had a little, not much at all."
"If you had 'not much at all', why would you need to replace it?"
"Well, it was that day that Harry came over." Bloody Potter. "He surprised me, I dropped the bottle. So, I repaired the bottle and replaced the whiskey with tea. I just haven't had a chance to replace it."
"You? Drinking? Firewhisky?" I have to fight the foolish urge to laugh, contenting myself with a slightly disapproving glare instead.
"Yes," she replies dispassionately. "I'm sorry I didn't replace it. But you really shouldn't have it in the first place, and didn't I ask you to stop using that horrible cup?" Her tone is accusing, and I don't appreciate it at all.
"Yes, you did. I decided I didn't want to part with my cup. And you are hardly one to cast stones, my dear. Was it not you who recently confessed to secret drinking of your own?"
Must not be smug. Must not be smug. Must not be smug.
"You bastard."
What?
"Pardon me?"
"You dare say something like that to me? As if you are in any position to--"
"In any position to what, Hermione? I hate to tell you this, but occasionally my life can become somewhat stressful, and in lieu of any real physical exertion, I need to find relaxation where I can."
Sweet mother of--
"What did you say?"
What did I say?
"I said, my life can become somewhat--"
"I heard what you fucking said, Severus! I just can't believe you would say that to me…"
"I-- Look, I'm not going to make excuses, and I'm not going to make apologies. I spoke the truth. Face it, Hermione. It's the way it is."
"Oh, I think I can see the way it is, Severus. I just didn't know that I meant that little to you."
What?
"But thank you for enlightening me."
I don't like the tone in her voice, not one bit.
"Hermione." My voice comes out a little hoarse, I clear my throat to try again. "Hermione, I know--"
"No, you don't."
"I don't?"
A glacial silence settles between us, I want her to say it again. I need her to say it again. I watch her carefully, indifferent to the tears in her eyes.
"You don't."
The tears flow freely down her face, and she turns away. Away from me. A sudden pain in my chest forces me to gasp and blink rapidly.
"Is there someone-"
"Merlin help you if you finish that sentence!"
I stare at her in mute confusion. Where did Hermione go? Who is this emotional beast before me?
"Harry's here," Hermione says softly. I look up in shock.
Harry?
Bloody fucking bastard of a Gryffindor, Potter? Terrific. I am so fucking pleased he has bloody well arrived. I don't have the energy for this level of intrusion. Strange, I didn't hear a knock. How the hell does she know he's here? I look around the room in confusion, noticing that Hermione won't meet my eyes. I follow her gaze to the shattered remains of what was once my pristine and orderly office. What on earth is going on? I am Severus Snape! I am dignified and I am organised and I am always, always clean and bloody tidy! I am never confused, I never sulk and I never, ever fucking cry! What's happened to me? I never used to be like this. I look at Hermione again and notice that she is staring back at me. I open my mouth to ask Hermione exactly when my life was uprooted this way when she beats me to it.
"Severus, Harry's here."
"Yes, I heard you." I feel a slight twinge of guilt when I see the flush creep over her cheeks, but it disappears when I look again around the room, noticing scattered papers that are definitely not work related and piles of dirty clothes that were definitely not made for adults.
Hermione moves past me without looking at me to open the door and allow Potter to step into my life. Again.
"Harry! Come in, we're so glad you could make it!"
We are?
"Yes, I'm sure you are, Hermione." He bends to give Hermione a kiss on the cheek and I narrow my eyes pointedly in his direction. "I can see that the good professor here is ecstatic to see me, I can practically feel his excitement from here."
Bloody cheeky, smirking bastard.
"Potter."
"Hello."
I do so hope he starts a staring competition, I would like to triumph over him once more. I refuse to admit that perhaps the reason I really want to beat Potter at this, apart from the obviously euphoric pleasure that would inevitably result from such a thing, is the desire for Hermione to witness my trouncing of him. I would like for Hermione to see that I am perfectly capable of beating Potter at something other than every academic pursuit known to man. I refuse to admit this, I absolutely refuse. After all, I'm sure my very best glare speaks for itself in this case. However, after staring directly at him for almost a minute, I realise that he is not even looking at me. He is not even bothering to pay the slightest amount of attention to me. You'd think that he would have the decency to at least look at me. Common courtesy demands it, I demand it! Insolent brat.
"Are you feeling any better?" he asks, seemingly concerned.
Who?
"A little, thanks. My clothes have seen better days though. I must look a mess."
What?
"Not at all. I think you look great. Don't you? Professor?"
Huh?
"Oh! Oh yes, of course."
Hermione's looking a little sad. Bloody fucking hell, I hope that was the right answer.
"I, er-- I better go get changed. I'll be right back, Harry."
What is she getting changed for? Where is she going? I watch her leave the room in confusion, I notice that she again refuses to meet my eyes. Our bedroom door closes with a quiet click behind her. Doesn't she know that we were in the middle of a stilted and painful conversation? And she expects to go flouncing off before we're finished? I try to remember if she has mentioned anything about leaving the house today.
"You can't even remember where she's going, can you?"
Bloody Potter, what does he know about it?
"Professor, allow me to give you a little advice. Hermione is something of an emotional wreck right now." You're telling me! "She feels bad about herself and she doesn't understand why. Her hormones are playing tricks on her and she's nearing exhaustion. Gods, I haven't seen her this stressed since she couldn't remember how squeeze the juice out of her sopophorous beans."
I must admit, I found that particular incident highly amusing. That is, until she asked for instructions on how to do it. I was, of course, obliged to deduct points.
"Potter, this doesn't sound like advice, this sounds like glorified ailments."
"No, not glorified. They're there, you just haven't noticed."
Don't be a fool, I notice everything. Except for that one isolated incident where I didn't notice that Voldemort had taken up residence in a nearby turban. Kind of thing that could happen to anyone, surely.
"Potter, she is my wife. If there was something actually wrong with her, I would know. She would tell me."
"No, she wouldn't. She wouldn't tell you anything if she thought it would worry you. Ever since she got back from St. Mungo's, she's just been getting worse." You can say that again. "She's worried about the kids, she's worried about finding work when she's ready, she's worried that she'll never be ready, she's worried about her body and the time its taking to heal itself, but most of all she's worried about you. You and your stupid insecurities and pathetic excuses. She's worried that she's going to have to nurse you through every single little issue you've ever had with your relationship all over again. Hermione has nursed your trauma enough! She has put up with you questioning the way she feels about you, she has put up with what appears to be your all consuming jealousy and multiple neuroses, and she has put up with the way you've been acting since the kids were born. She's done it all, and she's done it well. She's done more for you than most people would even think about doing, and now it's your turn. It's your turn to nurse her through her trauma, to nurse her through her raging hormones and galloping paranoia."
Insolent, intruding brat.
What does he know about it anyway? When was the last time he was married with triplets? And I haven't seen him trying to instruct dangerously idiotic children in the art of potentially dangerous potions. And when exactly did he become a bloody expert on my wife, anyway? MY wife. I've known her just as long as he has, and I spend much more time with her than he does. Well, perhaps not quite so much as I used to, but honestly I just haven't been able to find the time.
"Potter, you don't know anything about the situation. There are complications that tend to make life--"
"Complicated? Well, there's something that is totally unique to you, Professor. No one else in the world suffers stress from being overworked and underpaid. No one else in the world has to deal with people they don't like on a daily basis. Gods, you must have become something of an expert on the subject, with you being the only reliable source of information on the topic."
"Potter."
"I'd almost go so far as to say you should publish an article about it in the Daily Prophet so that others may benefit from your genius. But then again, it really wouldn't make a difference because surely no one else could ever experience the same level of pain that you are enduring at present."
Must not yell. Must not yell. Must not yell.
"Potter." I wince slightly at my tone but notice that he is unmoved. Surely my tone of voice is more impressive than that! Impudent brat!
"Well, that is the basis of your argument for why exactly you're treating Hermione this way, isn't it? You work too hard to support your family, you deserve a little rest when you get home. You deserve more than what you're getting, right?"
"Potter, Hermione is the one who is withdrawing from me. She is the one ignoring me! She's the one that always avoids me and avoids talking to me, using the children as a convenient excuse!"
"What the fuck is wrong with you? Don't you understand? Hermione is giving her time to the children because you fucking refuse to do it! You get home and do all that you can to avoid the children. Apart from a perfunctory bonding time, which I assume you see as your duty and obligation to be undertaken with supreme displeasure, what do you actually contribute to their day to day lives?"
"This isn't about the children! This is about Hermione and I."
"No, it's about all of you, because like it or not, you are one big family. You belong to each other and you are responsible for each other! This isn't about Severus Snape the individual, or even Severus Snape the husband. This is about you being husband to Hermione and father to your children as well as being yourself. Get used to it!"
"Potter, how can I remain the way I used to be with all the chaos those bloody b… er, children have brought with them? Look at this room! Look at what they've done to it!"
"You're justifying avoiding your family with a messy room? You've got to be fucking joking!" He turns to look at the room and draws his wand from his robes. "You mean that?" he asks, pointing his wand at the pile of clothes and having them fold themselves into a conveniently placed basket. "Or perhaps you're talking about that?" he continues, pointing his wand at the children's food, banishing it to Merlin knows where. "Or was it your desk that you were particularly miffed about?" He raises his wand again and with a few quick flicks, the parchment is flying around in a flurry of chaotic activity, the quills rearrange themselves and the ink stains disappear.
I am impressed. I am impressed beyond my will, which makes it much more difficult to compliment his fine wand work. Not that I would. Smirking, smug bastard.
"Yes, I can see why you'd need to ignore your children after that. It was an awful lot of work."
I fear that the time has come for me to force my mind around a new and wholly unwelcome thought, a horrifying conclusion and a terrifying turn of events: Harry Potter was right.
Harry bloody Potter, the bloody fucking bastard of a Gryffindor with a smug smirk and malicious intent was right. And I was wrong. This is unacceptable.
"Professor?"
Totally unacceptable.
"Snape? You still with me?"
It appears I'm doomed to be with you for the rest of my life. Quick! Say something! Damn it, Snape! Focus! Don't let him know he got to you!
"Potter--"
"Harry? Are you ready to go?"
Hermione. I turn to look at her but she still won't meet my eye. I take in her appearance, noting the wrinkles in her robe and the bags under her eyes. Gods, I've got to fix this.
"Hermione--"
"We'll be gone most of the night so you may have to put the children to bed. I've talked to Albus--"
"Hermione."
"And he's expecting you for tea in an hour, and he would like you to bring the children."
"But--"
"Who knows, he might even offer to take them for the night and then you won't have to deal with them for longer than you're used to."
"Hermione."
"Let's go, Harry."
Potter walks out the door with a backwards glare directed at me. This is getting ridiculous.
"HERMIONE!"
"Please, don't shout."
She turns to face me with carefully emotionless eyes. Now I have her attention, I have no idea how to begin.
Alright, Snape. Sink or swim time. Do your worst.
"Hermione, you know that dealing with a family is not something I'm used to."
Imbecile!
Hermione's eyes flash with anger briefly before she controls her features again. "And what? Because I had a family, I'm expected to know how to do this on my own? What? Because I wasn't deprived as a child I need to be punished?"
"What do you know about it, anyway? You have no idea what my life has been like, what I've gone through!"
"I know that I can't do this anymore! I can't raise three children and coddle my husband as well. I can't do it by myself when I'm supposed to be with you! You're supposed to be with me, Severus."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that if you're not with me in this, then I'll go. I'll take the children and we won't clutter your life anymore."
Oh holy fuck! She's going to leave me!
"Hermione! You can't mean that!"
"Our children deserve better than this, Severus! I deserve better than this. Our children need more than one emotionally exhausted mother and half an unstable father." I'm not unstable! "So, I'll leave it to you. If you decide that you can't be with me in this, then I'm gone."
"Gone where?"
"What does it matter? I'll go and so will the children. Your life can return to the way it was. Clean, tidy and orderly. It's what you want, after all." She turns away from me again and reaches for the door handle.
"Where are you going?" I ask, noting the subtle desperation in my voice.
"I'm going out with Harry. You know that."
"But… shouldn't we, er… talk about all this?" I say, gesturing vaguely with my hand.
"No. I think I'm done talking. And I really do hate to tell you this, but occasionally my life can become somewhat stressful, and in lieu of any real physical exertion, I need to find relaxation where I can. You understand, of course?"
All I can do is stare, as the door to our chambers closes behind her.
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