He would not bring her to bed, would not read to her for a week. Maybe two. No kiss good night. To distract him and then saying hello to Hermione Granger – unthinkable. The betrayal. She knew exactly that he had no longing to speak with that woman. No longing to see her.
Oh – but then again – hadn't he be the one to teach her how to be cunning? How to be sly? How to be sneaky? Had he not explained about being the essential Slytherin? Had she not promised to do her best? With her wide, dark eyes, smiling at him and promising.
And now – he was stuck there. On a muggle street, standing in front of Hermione Granger, and, his daughter was chatting to her. And he would have to say something. At least wish her a good day. Good morning, really, until he could leave again.
Ophelia was in so much trouble.
And the next lesson: when to be cunning – and when not to be cunning.
No, he would wish her a good morning, would get himself a cup of coffee and her a cup of hot chocolate and they would find a bench somewhere along the Thames and drink there. It would not be overly rude – but not friendly either.
"Good morning," he said and wanted to pull Ophelia with him, inside the coffee shop but she had dug her heels, apparently, into the ground and smiled at Hermione.
"Good morning," she replied back, not even looking at him.
"And what are you doing here?" Hermione asked Ophelia, who had wriggled her hand out of his grasp and stood just there, talking to the bloody woman.
"Daddy's taking me to the Globe Theatre," she explained with a smile, "and then the Minellium Bridge and if we have the time, Tate Modern."
And suddenly, her eyes met his. And the look in them – astounded. Surprised. Shocked, almost.
"The Globe?" she asked almost voicelessly and he couldn't help the smirk appearing on his face. So – it still was simple to render a Gryffindor speechless. Or almost anyway.
"Yes," Ophelia grinned. "They play Shipsbeer there."
"Shakespeare," Granger corrected, apparently still shocked – still looking at him as if he was some kind of alien. Something she had not expected at all.
"Yes, that too," Ophelia replied.
"Why," he drawled silkily, suddenly, "does that seem so outlandish to you that I should take my daughter to a theatre? A play? A famous bridge? A museum?"
"No," she stammered, and then, seemed to pull herself together, "It's just that I've never seen you as the cultural type."
He raised his eyebrows and took Ophelia's hand in his again.
"Are you going to see Shipsbeer as well?" Ophelia asked and pulled on his hand. She really wanted to talk to this woman. Incredible. Why?
Of course...her brat.
"No," she replied instantly, "I'm looking for flats."
"Is Hugo with you?" she asked suddenly and he could not help squeezing her hand a little. Pulling her. But she would not have any of it. She looked at him with a viciousness in her eyes he had not seen before.
"No," Granger replied. "He's at home with his grandparents."
"Oh," Ophelia pouted – just a little. "I really..."
"Ophelia," he said dangerously. "Do you want your hot chocolate?"
She nodded slowly. "Yes, Daddy, but.."
"Mister Snape, why don't you get your daughter her hot chocolate while I sit here with her?"she said, a strange sort of authority in her voice. Not that he would usually bow down to it – but Ophelia looked up with those huge eyes and silently pleaded and he shot Granger a look that clearly stated look-out-for-her-or-else and, with an admonishing glare at Ophelia, he quickly went inside. Lucky to have full view outside. He could see her with Granger. And if that bloody Gryffindor did anything with his daughter, she would have his hand pushed into her throat faster than she could say a single syllable.
But for now – as he was queuing, Ophelia was merely talking, and Granger was listening, a smile on her face. Or maybe no smile – maybe a grimace. He was not sure which.
And he wondered, again, why he had, without a fight, had left her there with a strange woman outside.
xx
"I really would like to play with Hugo," she said softly and hoped that the woman would hear and understand. Would see her dilemma. Even if it meant shedding her cunning and being honest. Not betraying her Daddy – oh no – but telling her that she really really really wanted it because she liked him so much.
People, she knew, actually liked it a lot when others said nice things. She liked it too. When Squiffy Mary Kelly told her that her hair was so nice and when she was allowed to run a hand through it, touching it, that was nice. Or when Daddy said that her stirring was adequate, or even good. That was nice. So maybe – if she told the woman that she liked Hugo and that he was nicely brought up (an expression she had learned from Daddy), she would begin to like her. Simple.
"I don't think that's possible," the woman said quietly back and grimaced a little.
"Why...I mean," she quickly corrected herself, "I liked him very much and I really would like him as a friend."
She sighed and smiled at Ophelia, "Your Daddy and Hugo's Daddy and myself are no friends."
"That's what Daddy said," she replied gloomily. "But..."
Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry, Ophelia."
She understood. Finally. It had taken her a while but now she had understood. Now it was clear. Her Daddy did not like Hugo's parents, so she wasn't allowed to play with him. Just because their parents did not get along, did mean, automatically, that they weren't even allowed to try and get along. Probably, they did not even like her. Because they did not like her Daddy.
She squinted. "You don't like me," she said and was about to turn away, run to Daddy, who liked her at least, when she felt a hand on her shoulder and she spun around quickly.
"No, Ophelia, that's not true. I like you."
"But you won't let me play with your son," she replied sadly. "So you don't like me."
When the woman didn't say anything, Ophelia shrugged. "That's okay. A lot of people don't like me. Not even my Mummy liked me. But Squiffy Mary Kelly does. And Daddy loves me, so that's alright." she shrugged Hermione's hand off and began to walk towards the shop, towards her Daddy.
"Ophelia..." she called back and she slowly turned around. The Slytherin-way of her Daddy, her plan, had not worked. And Daddy had said that you couldn't force anyone to like you. So she wouldn't. As Daddy said, it was mostly not worth the effort.
But she was still sad. She wanted to play with Hugo. Really. But maybe he wouldn't like her either. No child had liked her before. And apart from Squiffy and Daddy, not many people liked her either. Those who came into the apothecary mostly just looked at her and frowned.
"I'll go to Daddy," she said and wanted to turn away again – when Daddy appeared suddenly again, his face angry.
So being a Slytherin had not worked at all. And he was angry. Because she had pushed her luck. Because she had truly wanted something. Even though he had said no before. It was just like the time when she had lived with Mummy. When she had always been told to be quiet and be happy with what she had.
And she thought Daddy was different.
xx
Daddy loved her?
Oh dear. He loved her. And she, obviously loved him. Even though, something was not quite right. A child knowing that a lot of people did not like her? That wasn't right. And nobody but someone called Squiffy Mary Kelly liked her? Not even her mother? There was something truly wrong with this.
And she would find out. And if it meant letting her son playing with the daughter of Severus Snape. She was projecting what she thought about her father on her and that wasn't alright. That was quite wrong. It was as if she'd forbid her babies to go to school just because she despised most of the other parents (and teachers) there. And the children were perfectly nice. Most of them anyway. She should apply that some rule to Ophelia. Not judge her because of who her father was.
"Ophelia, I really do like you," she said gently and did not even care that Snape was standing there and she was grasping his hand.
She looked back at her – and, she noticed – Snape looked at her as well. Even if he did not allow her to play with Hugo (which she believed), she would not be to blame if the little girl was miserable.
But, to be honest, her curiosity was spiked. Why did her mother did not like her? And did Snape really love that girl? Who was Squiffy Mary Kelly? And why was Ophelia so sure that she did not like her?
"Would you like to sit down?" she asked calmly.
"Did you insult my daughter?" he asked dangerously. Silkily. The voice she had feared in school. The voice that was like poisoned honey in her ear.
"No," she replied in kind. She knew that some of the people working with her were intimidated by her. Because sometimes, well, sometimes she was scary. She admitted to that. But intimidate Snape? That one would be difficult. But worth a try nevertheless. She looked at him directly, her mind clouded by Occlumency (one never knew with him) and her expression was, well – displeased. "I did not insult your daughter of course. I merely thought it would not be in her best interest to play with my son, since Hugo is a bit rowdy. Or can be. And Ophelia strikes me as a rather..."
"A rather what?" he asked slowly and fixed her with his eyes as well.
"She doesn't like me," Ophelia said off-handedly. "And because of that, I'm not allowed to play with Hugo."
"No, that's not..."
"Do not call my daughter a liar."
xx
He was not sure what she wanted to achieve but nobody called his Ophelia a liar. She might have just proven her cunning but she did not lie.
"I was merely saying, Mister Snape, that I do not think it wise to let those two play together. But I changed my mind. I think it would be beneficial for Hugo – and Ophelia – if they could spend time together," she said quickly and, challenged him with her gaze.
He raised a mocking eyebrow just before he bent down to hand Ophelia the cup of hot chocolate. "Careful, it's hot," he whispered in her ear. Granger did not have to know that he was a caring parent. It would be quite – counter-productive, in fact.
"So – you would consent," he held Ophelia's hand in his, reassuring her, "to give your child in my care? Even if it's only for an hour?"
He felt Ophelia tense. She knew that she was close to reaching her goal. And for her Slytherinness – well, maybe she did deserve a reward for that. She had done – he knew, and had realised while getting their drinks – exactly what he had taught her to do. Now she only had to learn that she was not supposed to do it with the people she liked.
And he saw Granger tense. She had not, not in the least expected that. Of course she would not have him babysit their children. Or one of them. He was unreliable, evil, not fit to look after her precious offspring. She would say no – and Ophelia would not blame him. She would be sad and he would console her.
But Granger thought. And thought. And wrapped a curl around her finger and thought.
"Fine," she said suddenly. "You win."
He tried his hardest not to frown. Not to looked shocked. This didn't mean...
"I'll bring him by. Would tomorrow suit you?"
The child, his child, was looking up – expectantly. Hoping, wishing, and he had to groan inwardly.
"Fine," he spat and suddenly, his Ophelia bounced next to him. "Tomorrow afternoon."
And Ophelia yelped happily and sighed and hugged his legs. And he closed his eyes for only a brief moment – then looked at Granger again. And that bloody woman wore a similarly shocked expression on her face. Her gamble had not paid off – and that alone was worth it.
And he would probably have the opportunity to teach a little Gryffindor a few manners.