A/N: Chapter two, indeed. I would firstly like to apologize for the Pearl Harbor comment there is in this story; I don't want anyone to be offended, because I knew I would be. Anyway, the comment was supposed to be offensive, as you will find out.

Disclaimer: I own nothing… especially not Harry Potter

Happy Reading!

Chapter Two: The Truth Hurts, Right?

The next day, I woke up at 5:30 as I usually do, and pulled myself off the couch. I had told Severus that since he was on the mend, he would be sleeping in the bed, and though he protested at first, he eventually obliged.

I walked as quietly as I could into the bedroom, being careful not to make any noise. I pulled my running clothes out of the drawer and was making my way out of the room when I stubbed my toe.

"Agh!" I hissed, trying to keep in the rush of swear words that wanted to come out of my mouth.

Too late; Severus stirred, rolled over, and opened his eyes.

"What are you doing?" He asked suspiciously, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

I stood guiltily, holding my clothes.

"I'm going for a jog. I didn't want to wake you. Sorry."

He looked at the clock and stifled a groan as he saw the time. He swung his legs out of bed and stood up, pausing to stretch and yawn. This was a strange sight to see for some reason; I always thought the Severus from school rolled out of bed each morning, still snoring.

"No matter," he said, rubbing his hands together in a business-like way and striding past me towards the door, "I shall prepare breakfast."

"Um, okay…" I replied with a hint of uncertainness.

I stood for a moment alone in the dark room, then shrugged, turned on the light, and began changing into my running clothes. I had just pulled on a long-sleeved spandex shirt when I heard a knock. I turned around to see Severus standing in the doorway, his eyebrows raised.

"What are you wearing?" he asked, and I looked down at my apparel; white spandex shirt and black spandex shorts.

I blushed and held up a pair of mesh shorts as I swept my red hair out of my face.

"Running clothes. Dynamic," I replied in a dignified way, stepping hastily into my shorts and pulling them over my spandex.

"Ahh," Severus said uncertainly, "Well, how do you like your eggs?"

I cracked a grin and replied, "Unfertilized. All puns intended!"

He rolled his eyes as I sniggered.

"Oh ha ha…" he replied sarcastically, leaning against the doorway.

I patted my stomach thoughtfully and said with a chuckle, "Well, I'll have four eggs, toast, honeydew, and some OJ please."

"That's a lot of food for one small which like you," Severus observed, and I smiled at him.

"It is if you're feeding for one," I replied sweetly, and ignored his brow-raised look.

"Right," he said slowly, as if he were trying to decipher my words, "I'll get on that."

"Tie that hair back!" I yelled, but got no reply.

Smiling to myself, I pulled a short-sleeved shirt on over my spandex, grabbed my shoes, and padded out into the kitchen, where Severus was pouring my OJ with a thoughtless expression. It was strange, seeing him this way. I was so incredibly used to the twitchy, snappy, angry teenager from school, and as I looked at him, I saw that he had grown up and that he faced many difficult times. He had a politely sarcastic, sardonic way of speaking, and seemed a tad bit more patient. He looked up at me as I entered the room, his hair in a ponytail as I had commanded. Damn, his hair was so long, but I figured that he hadn't exactly had the chance to cut it in the last year. It was, of course, greasy, and that reminded me of the Snape from school. Severus pushed my overloaded plate across the table at me and it stopped at the edge of the table.

"Your breakfast…mistress," he said mockingly with a little bow.

I laughed and sat down at the table with a word of thanks and began to devour my meal. I rolled my wand across the table and he picked it up and pointed it at a cup that sat on the table, empty. A jet of brown liquid shot out of the wand's tip so fast that it shattered the glass. He pursed his lips as I laughed out loud.

"You will never get such excellent results with another person's wand," I said in a matter-of-fact voice.

"Dually noted," he replied dryly, waving away the mess and repairing the mug.

> > > > > > > >

I stepped out the front door of the house and began my easy jog. As I passed the little shops of Godric's Hollow, my mind filled with thoughts of the past few days, like it always did when I was alone. Come to think of it, I had been alone for a while. After the...incident, I pulled myself away from everyone, and did only research for the Order. Occasionally, Remus or Sirius would stop by, but they soon stopped visiting me as they realized I was not one for talking much anymore. And now, with another man living in the house, it was like déjà vu all over again, only with a less comical character. It seemed that upon Severus' arrival, I opened up a little and stuck my head out of the cave I had stayed in for so long – a little over a year. Not only that, but when the time came for him to go, what if I became too attached? What if I – and I get a gross feeling thinking about it – began to actually, well, more than like him? I mean, it couldn't possibly get more ironic. Well, it could, but only if –

I stopped in my tracks as a horrific realization dawned upon me. Of course. The awkward silence, the slightly apprehensive way that he was acting toward me – he knew. I turned on my heel and sprinted the half-mile back to the house, where I opened the door and walked in, panting and clutching a stitch in my side. The house was silent. I walked quietly into the kitchen, but stopped in the doorway. There he was, Severus, with his back to me. He looked as if he was sword fighting an invisible person, and I couldn't help but watch in awe. In his hand was my long, wooden soup spoon, and his footwork was so hypnotizing that I almost forgot why I had come back to the house. He spun around in a (what I figured must have been) defensive maneuver when he saw me. He stopped moving, the spoon still in his hand. His eyes darted from me, the redhead clad in running clothes, to the wooden spoon. He stuck the spoon behind his back and coughed.

"You have returned… early," he said conversationally, reverting to his normal manner.

"Yes, I uh," I started, but I didn't know how to start, so I plowed on without an introduction, "I mean, you know, you were a Death Eater once and I was just wondering… why you quit."

He stared at me with a hard, unreadable expression for a moment before turning his back to me and walking towards the sink. The spoon, I saw, was sticking out of his back pocket. He rested his hands on the edge of the sink, elbows bent, and leaned over the edge, his hair hanging loosely about his face.

"Before I say anything, I want you to understand something," he said flatly.

"Yes?" I asked, knowing already where this conversation was going, and dreading every second of it.

"James and I, we always hated each other. But I never – never – wanted to…wanted to…"

His knees buckled and I rushed forward to help him. I took his arm and steered him to a chair, into which he collapsed into and leaned onto the table. I sat down into the chair next to him and watched anxiously. His hands were white and shaking, but his voice was strong, though he seemed to have a hard time forcing the words out.

"They made me do it. After all, he was vital to the Order and without him, the Order had less chance of success. By this time, I was already beginning to regret my decision of joining the Death Eaters, and I had been toying with the idea of escaping the Dark Lord."

His voice filled with bitterness as he continued.

"So, they captured him - and that was no easy task, mind you."

I felt a surge of pride toward James.

"They brought him toward me, and he tried communicating with me using legimancy. I don't know what he tried to say; I implied occlumancy against him. Then I did it. No torture. No foreplay. No extra words. I just… I just killed him."

At this point, I did not cry as one might expect. Nor did I lose my head and attempt to strangle the man before me. My vision of James' death that haunted my dreams had included torture and pain. In a way, hearing this story calmed me somehow and cleared my conscience. James had died quickly and painlessly, or as painless as death is. Yes, I was sad that he was gone, and that we had so little time together before he died, but I also knew that no amount of grieving would bring him back, nor would attacking Severus. I looked up at Severus, whose hands were wrapped firmly around his mug from breakfast, and he was peering into the mug with a vacant expression. He sat there for a moment, both of us in silence, before he looked up at me.

"You don't have to forgive me," he said, and I gawked at him.

"Forgive you? For being forced to do a Dark Lord's bidding? I know you didn't want to do it, Sev, I'm not stupid. He's gone, and I know it, and I know you did it," I reached across the table and put a hand on his arm, "There is nothing to forgive! James, well, as much as I love him, I know he is gone. I cannot change that, but I know that he wouldn't have wanted me to mope around for the rest of my life. I have to move on."

"Well said," Severus said, his eyes still on the mug in his hands.

I leaned back in my chair and sighed. I hadn't released my thoughts for a long time.

"And now I have to ask you a question," Severus said, turning to face me with a grim, yet curious expression.

"Yes?" I asked apprehensively, wondering what he could possibly want to ask.

"Whose child are you bearing?"

My jaw literally dropped in surprise. I shut my mouth, and then opened it again in disbelief.

"How did you –?" I asked, but Severus merely looked at me.

"'It is if you're eating for one'? Come on, Evans, let's face it; you drop hints like bombs on Pearl Harbor and you never were a good occlumens."

Ordinarily, I would have told him off for the Pearl Harbor comment, but I was in a state of shock (not to mention I was slightly impressed) that he had found out in less than a day.

"Well, that's completely irrelevant to our previous subject," I said stiffly.

Severus glared at me and I shrank under his stare.

"James'," I replied in a voice that was not my own.

Severus crossed his overly-thin arms and looked at me disbelievingly.

"I can count, Evans, and I know that's not possible. And you don't even look pregnant. Who is it?"

I smiled and replied sweetly, "Well thank you, Sevvy Dearest, for that uplifting comment. But the last time I checked, my surname was Potter, not Evans, and I am going to have his child."

"That still doesn't answer my question," Severus persisted coldly.

I crossed my arms and replied, "Yes it does. James Potter is the father. When we first got married, we put aside some of his…DNA in a muggle facility just in case something were to happen. Bad times, as you well know, were coming, and we knew it too. Of course, we, or at least I, never thought anything was going to happen, but I'm glad we took the precaution."

I patted my abdomen affectionately.

"I see…" Severus said, raising his head to stare at the ceiling.

He suddenly stood up and put his cup in the sink, where it began to wash itself.

"I have a task," he said, turning to me.

"And what would that be?" I asked in a mock-serious tone, "Can I be of any service?"

"Definitely not," he replied, "I require a shower and a scissors."

"Interesting combination," I said, arching a brow, "The shower I can understand, because you are as greasy as ever. The scissors in the shower however…"

"Not in the shower! After I wash it, I need to dispose of this," he tugged at his ponytail, "I cannot live like this much longer."

I stood up and put the now clean mug back into its cabinet, "Alright, if you want me to cut your hair for you, I'll be just a room away. Here are the scissors."

I thrust the sharp scissors into his hands as I continued to tidy up the kitchen, knowing that the last thing Severus would do was call on me to cut his hair.

A little while later, Severus emerged from the bathroom, looking a bit more dignified than before. His hair just barely touched his shoulders when he moved, and he was holding himself in a more proud kind of way. This, too, was different from the Snape I used to know, who walked with his head bent low as if against a storm. He grinned at me when he came out of the bathroom and spun around once.

"Much better," I said with a nod of approval, looking up from my book with a look of sheer interest.

"I thought so, as well," he replied coolly, "I, however, lack some things that I need desperately."

"And these things would be what?" I said.

"First and foremost, a wand. I cannot use yours, for fear of destroying something. Second, I need some clothing of my own; I feel awkward and intrusive in my enemy's old clothing."

I personally agreed with this last comment. Severus was just no James, and definitely not built like him.

"That can all be arranged," I said calmly, placing my book to the side, "We'll go into town tomorrow at noon. We can disguise you and do some shopping."

"Disguise?"

"Yes, did you think we'd just go marching you around with Voldemort's spies looking for you? I didn't think so." I said as he shrugged one shoulder up and down.

I had plans for tomorrow morning, but I wasn't going to bother Severus with them, and I would hopefully be back by the time he woke up. I would just have to make sure that I had my clothes on the couch instead of in my bedroom.

A/N: Chapter 3 coming very soon. Once again, apologies for the offended.