Gobstones? He knew there was an old set. But they were much to young to be playing Gobstones. And especially in his apothecary. Exploding Snap? Not in his shop. And they were too young.
Wizarding Chess? Ophelia was more fascinated by the viciousness of the figures on the board than the actual game. And no, he could not let them play it.
But how to entertain two such young children without having to close his apothecary? And he had done that yesterday – and did not want a repeat just for a Weasley. No – he would keep it open and if that boy was unruly, he would send him back. Even though he wasn't sure where Granger lived at the moment. She had said something, the day before, about looking for a flat. But oh well, he could send the red-head always back to his grandparents. The Burrow. They would know what to do with him.
As Severus Snape pondered those questions – what to let them play, where to bring him if he should turn out of be a typical Weasley/Gryffindor – he did not notice that the two children had, after two rounds of running around the counter, had settled on the dark wood floor, cross-legged, next to one another, and Ophelia explained slowly what her father had once explained her, pointing at the jars and vials on the shelves. And Hugo listened raptly.
No – he had not noticed until he realised that something was off – and when he looked around at first, and saw nothing, only soft talking, he felt – odd. He had a duty – for the next two hours or so – to the Weasley boy as well. And he had lost him already. Heard only Ophelia. He looked around worriedly and – groaned when he saw both of them on the ground.
"Children," he said sharply – making Ophelia stop and looking at him, grinning broadly.
"Was explaining Hugo the different ingredients," she explained quickly.
"Yes, but not on the floor," he sighed and transfigured a chair from the stopper of a vial. "Sit there and you know the rules when there are customers."
"Be quiet," both of them said in unison – and he nodded – satisfied.
It would be the other way around. Ophelia would be the the calming influence and pride, yes, pride, blossomed in his chest.
"Daddy, I don't know what that is," Ophelia pointed at a jar full of pickled pig's penises. His daughter was not even five yet. He knew why he had not told her what it was. And Granger would give him hell if he explained in all detail about the various anatomical parts of a pig and why that special part was perfect to bring a woman to – well. And to bring the man to – well – last longer. Pigs were, after all, known to be, well, that way.
But no – he could not tell that to such innocent souls. Completely unaware (at least where Ophelia was concerned) where they had come from.
(And no, Ophelia, as far as he was concerned, would never know that he had paid her mother to actually do the act that would be her conception)
instead, he just said, "Erm." And both children looked at him expectantly. Just waited for him to say something. And yes, he had promised not to tell Ophelia's any lies. He would not lie to his daughter. No qualms whatsoever about lying to the Weasley boy – but Ophelia? No. He would not do it.
And they still waited. And stared and the Weasley boy did not look like a Weasley at all in that moment. No, he remembered clearly what Hermione Granger had looked like in her first lesson with him. Eager, wanting to know. Learning. Filing things away in his head. A memory with none other to match.
He tried to take a deep breath. He would tell them. Something.
"Erm," he said again – and, for the first time, since he could remember, he didn't really know how to answer a question about potions and/or ingredients. "Parts of a pig," he said quickly and hoped it would be enough.
"What parts?" Hugo Weasley asked and he could not help the scowl. Yes, he definitely was like his mother.
"Yes, what parts, Daddy?"
He sighed. Needed an answer. Something. And quick. "Corrumble," he replied – and was glad that he could still make up words. And Corrumble actually did sound like a part of a pig.
"Where is that?" Ophelia asked, frowning, but nevertheless, climbing on her chair and beckoning Hugo to do the same. The young Weasley seemed eager to please as well – and did it, and even copied Ophelia's posture – straight, sitting on his hands. No Weasley. Definitely not quite a Weasley.
"On its belly," he replied, more confident now. They believed him. And he would remove the jar as soon as Ophelia was out of sight. How stupid of him to have left it there in the first place. He had removed the tigers testicles. But not the pickled pig's penis? Stupid of him. He would have to remedy that. Soon.
"Okay," Ophelia said and turned to smile at Hugo again. "That's nice, right?"
And Severus – he tried to listen to their talk. But it was really not that – interesting. And then – he began to talk. Hugo Weasley began to talk. And he felt himself listening, registering. Putting things away for further remembering.
"And somehow, Mummy was weird and then she hugged us a lot and everything and kissed Rosie and I a lot and it was really weird. And then Mummy told Daddy that she doesn't love him and then we moved to granny and granddad and they're dentists."
"What's dentists?" Ophelia asked.
"They drill holes in teeth," he explained.
"Really?" she made a disgusted face. "Daddy makes me brush my teeth every morning and every night. He once used a spell for that even but I did not like the taste and then..."
He did not hear the rest – yes, she had once refused to brush her teeth and he did not want her to end up like him. So he had made her. With a spell he had taught her. And he could image that not tasting good. He smirked. And was pulled out of his thoughts by a scream. Or a loud shout. And suddenly, he looked up and those two were running around his shop. Around the counter, around him – playing catch?
"Children!" he said in his most severe teacher-voice. And that – did not help. They kept on running. And running. Around him and carefully avoiding everything that was in their way. But they ran and they shouted and he had never seen his daughter so – undignified.
He even tried to stand in their way – but they simply slipped past him, Ophelia in front and Hugo chasing after her. No doubt it was his fault. Chasing his daughter.
"No, Hugo," she screamed, giggled, shouted, laughed, all at once. So he was chasing after her.
"Ophelia!" he boomed and had never used that voice before. Not ever. But it would seem this was the only way to work. Only – it didn't.
"Weasley!" he boomed and that didn't work either. They just ran and suddenly, Ophelia turned around and chased the Weasley boy. And he seemed to shout and scream and giggle and laugh at the same time.
And suddenly, she stopped – in front of him and Hugo followed her quickly afterwards and also stood just before him.
"Can we go upstairs, Daddy? Want to show Hugo my books," Ophelia smiled sweetly. But oh no, he would not let them upstairs alone. They were small – yes – but apparently perfectly capable of destroying things. He would not let them wreck his flat. Not even her room. Not even that. Nothing. They would stay there where he could keep his eyes on them. Where he could control them.
"I will summon the books you want," he replied – and tried to keep his voice even.
"Yay!" the Weasley boy began to jump up and down and clapped his hands together. "Because Rosie never lets me near her books and Mummy taught her how to read and she says I'm too young to read and I can not really look at them then."
Severus nodded. And suddenly understood. A child from a divorce and his sister had the escape into books. He did not. Moving to their grandparents? He probably had to leave a lot behind.
He had, truthfully, often wished his parents would have divorced – his mother would have probably still been alive then – but to imagine a perfect family like the Weasleys going wrong somewhere? With children concerned?
No – no, he would not feel pity for Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley or any of their children.
He was getting too kind-hearted as it was. Summoning the notes for Squiffy Mary Kelly to hunt for flaws and errors, as he summoned some of the large stack of Ophelia's books for them – and the children – on the floor again (and yes, he had cast a warming charm since they wouldn't listen to his 'On the chairs.'), reading.
There was the mistake. The nose of the cat Ophelia had drawn – it looked like an O. When it should have been an 8. And he could brew it. Today, even.
"And then the tiger goes to the woods," Ophelia said, and he looked over, and she lay on her stomach.
"Ophelia," he said sternly (sighing inwardly), "do get up."
She squinted at him – then shook her head. "It's comfortable."
"Sit up, Ophelia," he said and suddenly, Hugo lay down on his stomach as well, his head almost touching his daughter's. And he had to interfere, didn't he? They couldn't just lie there.
"Mister Weasley!" he said sternly, moved around the counter, moved around and towered over them. "Ophelia."
"But Daddy..."
He groaned. And cast another warming charm.
xx
An hour later, he saw little stars. They had quietly read. For about five minutes. Then Hugo had poked Ophelia (or the other way round – though he doubted it) and they had started running again. No, they had not destroyed anything – but he was afraid for his cauldrons. And his stirring rods. And the vials and jars on the shelves. Everything was still intact. Even after several rounds of running and playing tag and whatever it was called. He didn't care.
And no matter what voice he used, nothing worked. They wouldn't stop and he swore to himself that he would never ever let his otherwise so well-behaved daughter play with that rascal any more. Though – her cheeks were pink and she smiled and laughed and giggled and it was – strange to see her with someone almost her own age. Strange. Very strange.
xx
She peeked into the apothecary. Yes, she had stayed close. In Diagon Alley – but on the corner to Knockturn Alley. She had not spied but she could not bear to be far away. Not that she could see what was going on, but still. She needed to be there.
And ten minutes to six, she strode down there. Would pick up her son. Just because Snape did not know where to send Hugo. He wouldn't know that they lived with her parents. And then he would send him to Ronald's house. Or worse – the Burrow. And no – what would happen then? She could lose custody of Hugo. And he – and probably even Rosie – would be with Molly Weasley all the time.
No – she could not let that happen.
Snape had to know where to send Hugo. No – wrong thought. He wouldn't have to know anything. She would pick her son up at the right time. And he would never have to know.
Didn't need more ammunition to make her feel bad. Certainly not.
And as she looked into the window – she knew that he would not have to need ammunition. Because she had all the weapon's in her hands. Severus Snape – being used as a maypole – danced around by two children. And they seemed to sing.
No – Hermione Granger could not hide her grin. Definitely not. And it only grew when she stepped into the shop.
They did not sing. Oh no. Both of them hummed, whistled, whatever tunes that came into their minds. It was a cacophony of sounds and the stomping of their feet and well, to be honest, she did not know what to make of it. Snape, he just stood there. Let it happen. He looked as if he was about to split his head in two – or maybe if his head was about to split him in two. But he stood, so patiently, and let her son dance around him.
He looked at her, probably instinctively, and for the first time in her life, Hermione Granger saw something which was not coldness in Severus Snape's eyes. It almost seemed as if he was asking for help. Well, almost. But it was – odd.
She put two fingers into her mouth – and whistled. Immediately, both children looked up – at her – and Snape – scowled. Even worse than before.
"Children!" she called and they were both by her side instantly. "Hugo, I think it's time to go home."
He shook his head vehemently. "Want to play with Ophelia more."
"Well," she smiled and looked up at Snape, "if Ophelia's father is willing, she can come to our place to play and I will watch you two."
And Snape locked his gaze with hers.