He could not believe what she had just said. And he could even believe less what Ophelia was doing. That treacherous girl. Running to his side, making those eyes that he could barely resist, tugged on his sleeve and pushed her lower lip outward.

"Please?" she whispered. "Daddy?"

He arched his eyebrows.

He had his daughter's happiness in his hands right now. Saying no would crush her. Saying yes would probably crush him. Well, not crush him. But he would have to go to a house full of Gryffindors. And – where did she live?

Ah – the boy had mentioned it. With his grandmother and grandfather. But that couldn't possibly mean the Weasleys, could it? But her – living with her own parents? Was that more likely? Possibly.

But Molly Weasley, the most dedicated matriarch the Wizarding World had ever seen – letting someone else take care of her grandchildren? That woman was most possessive when it came to her family. But had Granger fallen in disgrace? For divorcing?

Divorces were not common in their World. People separated, yes, but legal divorces, though easy, were morally, well...not so well. It was probably just because those t more in their World had changed. More than he had anticipated. And if she offered to take Ophelia off his hands, for even an afternoon – no. Only with his supervision.

Though – that would possibly make him more cowardly than she had been. She had left her son – which she, without doubt, felt some affection – some love for (the way she held him close to her now proved that) – in his care. Without looking back. And he did not trust her with his daughter?

Of course not.

"We'll see," he said quietly to his daughter and looked up at Granger. She smiled at her son, had bent down a little, well, not a little, but was almost on her knees, hugging him.

"Did you like it here?" she asked him.

"Yes!" he gushed and grinned and hugged his mother tightly around the neck. "Ophelia and I played and read and Mister Snape let us run around. But we didn't break something..."

"Anything, sweetheart," she corrected gently. "And what does Mister Snape say to all this?" she asked, looking up.

"He just let us play," Hugo explained quickly and after pressing an apparently very wet kiss on Granger's cheek, he rushed over to his side and tugged on his other sleeve. "Can we play again soon? Tomorrow?"

"Let's hear what Mister Snape has to say about this," she could barely conceal her grin.

"I said we'll see."

"They did not break anything?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No." Only his head. Or something inside of his head. Something which hurt now terribly. And he would have to think about what she had said when his head wasn't killing him. About this proposition.

But – no – he would most certainly not send his poor, innocent daughter to the Weasleys.

"Where do you live?" he asked, and immediately blamed his head. Really, an apothecary and he had not thought to take a potion before she arrived. He couldn't possibly do that now. She would see through that. Immediately. Possibly.

"With my parents," she replied and the grin was wiped off her face. "I have not found a flat yet that I can afford."

He nodded sharply. "I see."

"You wouldn't even consider it if I lived with Ronald or his parents, would you?" she asked – not smiling. Her eyes not glimmering. It was a serious question. She meant it. And she knew that she was right. No, he would not even consider it. Not even for half a second.

"No."

She nodded. "Me neither," she replied viciously. "This family..."

He raised his eyebrows but she seemed to realise that there were children present. And more importantly, her child. So she shook her head and said nothing else.

But, probably for the first time in his life, he knew what was going on in her head, what she wanted to say, without actually using Legilimency. The Weasleys – or at least some of them – had not treated her particularly well after the divorce. Or maybe even before that. And she had probably taken her children and had run.

"Daddy?" she tugged on his hand again and lifted her arms. This was strange. She only did that when she wanted to be picked up. When she was scared. Why should she be scared? "Please?" she asked and he lifted her in his arms, and his Ophelia snuggled into his neck for a moment, wrapped herself around him before she looked up, and whispered, in his ear. "I'll eat all the sprouts and beans when I can play with Hugo again."

Really – what chance did he have? His girl hated sprouts and green beans. Above anything. She even ate spinach (something he had despised as a child) and to more or less promise him something like that? That was worth a lot. But still – he could not always give in.

xx

Hugo lifted his arms, just as Ophelia had done moments before and she grinned. Of course her little one wanted to be picked up just as well. And she would. Though her back hurt after that morning in the office. Nobody there to carry the stacks of files full of parchment. Some of them had been heavy and the day before, she had done laundry – the muggle way and had lifted a basket full of heavy laundry and well – she was getting older.

But Hugo wanted it and she would not allow Snape to do something she would not do. She picked him up and as Ophelia had done, he wrapped his legs, his arms around her.

"Can you make Mister Snape let us play?" he asked in a small voice. "Ophelia is my friend and Mister Snape is nice."

"Nice?" she whispered back in his little ear and he nodded urgently. "Explained and let us play and told us not to be quiet all the time."

She smiled. But she was – confused and had to look at him again.

No, this was a different person. Not the Snape she knew. The Snape she thought she knew would have made her son cry, would belittle him and would most certainly not be described as nice. And besides that – his body language spoke volumes. He was holding his daughter with one arm, letting her sit on his hip, let her talk into his ear as he brushed hair from her face, stroked her back and his expression had been interested again. It was as if what his daughter was saying was the most fascinating thing in the world.

A good father. Snape was a good father.

She breathed deeply and it seemed as if years and years of prejudices, like walls around her, blinding her, probably influenced by Ron, crumbled down. Were destroyed by those few moments when she had seen him with his girl. It was kind – but she obviously knew that her father's word was important. She listened to him when he whispered in her ear. And Ophelia smiled when she looked at him. And Snape – oh well – he scowled. Though...

No, that can't be – she thought to herself. There was warmth in his eyes, in how he was treating Ophelia. This was different. This was loving. This was kind. Stern, yes, but underlying was love. A father who knew how to treat his daughter, how to bring her up.

And obviously, he had not treated her son unfairly either. Why not let them...

"If you're uncomfortable bringing your daughter to a Muggle house, I could bring Hugo here again," she said calmly.

"Trust me," he replied coldly, and all the love that had only moments before radiated from him, had vanished suddenly. Though, he still held her protectively. And she had her arms wrapped around his neck. How could someone be so – twisted? Kind and loving to the children – cold and...

Of course.

Old feelings swept over her. Almost buried. And still, now, resurfacing. Guilt.

She sat Hugo on the ground and took two tentative steps towards him. "I trust you, Severus Snape," she said suddenly, astonished that his first name was so easy to say. Any title would have sounded wrong. Mister or Professor – both would have been wrong. Both would have almost been mocking. Master Snape? Wrong. It sounded best this way. "I know I haven't always. But I trust you to take good care of my son."

xx

He looked at this woman standing there boldly. Calling him by his first name? Telling him she trusted him? A bit late for that, wasn't it?

Severus Snape wasn't sure what to make of this and instead, he tightened his hold on his daughter a little. Came sweeping in here? Dumping her son on him? Letting him babysit? Trusting him. Obviously.

And he found that no, he did not trust her with his child. Not yet. But his daughter – his Ophelia – she wanted it. She wanted to go there.

"I will bring her by tomorrow at three if that is agreeable," he said slowly and his headache only worsened when he saw a broadly grinning Granger – and two whooping and happily laughing children.

He would bring her there – and would stay. Until he was sure she was well and safe and happy.