The usual disclaimers apply.
xx
If he had not already known for sure that she was his daughter – there, just there – he had another proof.
Even though, he had only ever managed to apparate short distances alone. Even if it was with his mother. Not that it had helped him – or her – much. But yes, he had done it. And ever since he had seen that his little witch was growing into a very powerful one – he had read up on it. There was a spell. A spell he could put on her – without any side-effects. Only that it acted like anti-apparition wards, applied to her - not to a building. Just to make sure she didn't apparate away from him. Didn't run away from him.
He had only waited for her to do it once. Though – maybe he shouldn't have done that. Maybe he shouldn't have waited. He had just been, well curious – but thinking about it now – the things that could have happened to her – no – no – better not think about it at all. She had apparated with him and since they had landed safely – albeit apparently in the Granger's garden – he would put the spell on her immediately. It wasn't difficult at all. A simple flick of the wand and she could be as determined as she wanted to be, she would not apparate anywhere.
And it was for her own safety. And for the continued well-being of his own heart. He did not fancy dying of a heart-attack before she was grown up. Certainly not. He wanted to see her grow into a woman. Even though he already knew that he would resent that fact.
"Hullo Hugo," she said so artlessly. "Thank you for the letter."
He used that opportunity and flicked his wand over her – and a moment later, she was safe. He would talk to her. Had to – also about the owl and dangers they could bring, letter-spells, poison on the parchment. An owl – in the future – would be checked by him first. He wasn't going through all this trouble to lose his daughter to a stupid letter-spell or poison he could not counter. He would never forgive himself. Never.
He looked up finally – and saw into the surprised, astonished faces of the two older Grangers – and the two little Weasleys. Well, the surprised and astonished face of one little Weasley. The other was busy talking to his daughter.
"Mummy helped me write it," he gushed and grinned. "But I painted the picture. It's you and your Daddy and Mummy and we're playing with the train set in the garden."
Hence the apparition to the garden and not the living room, he noted. Well, it would not happen again. Contrary to popular belief, accidental apparition did not say anything about the future power of a little witch or wizard. It was merely a sign of desperation, or very strong determination and happened more often than assumed. However, side-along accidental apparition was a sign of power – and determination or desperation.
In the case of his little witch there, dancing from one foot to the other with her little friend, it was probably the former. Determination. And well, it was a strange feeling to realise that she did not really want to be alone with him. But rather with her friend and him.
He wanted to shake his head a little – wanted to push that feeling (jealousy – obviously), to the back of his head but just as he wanted to focus on pushing, he felt a hand on his upper arm. He turned swiftly and stared into the slightly smiling face of the senior Granger.
"Hello, Mister Snape," he said kindly. "How nice of you to come by with your daughter."
"It wasn't me coming by with my daughter," he explained coldly, "but my daughter coming by with me and we shall rectify that."
"No, stay," Missus Granger stepped to her husband's side. "The kitchen is occupied at the moment but...," she turned away, "Ophelia, what is your favourite dish?"
He seethed. Didn't he have a say in the matter where he spent his evening? With his daughter? On her birthday?
Obviously not. Obviously – his daughter (and she would get no story tonight – though – well, it was her birthday) was against him as well.
"I like cottage pie best," she explained matter of factly. "With lumps in the mashed potatoes."
He had to roll his eyes. Really. He wanted to drag her away from this wholesomeness. From this – sanity. It wasn't the way they lived. It wasn't the way she would ever live. Her almost adopted grandmother was an alcoholic who just now tried to get off it – oh the potion. Oh no. He would have to start all over again if they stayed much longer.
"Ophelia, Missus Kelly will cook dinner," he said softly – a mean tone in his voice – he knew. And a cold tone. He knew that too.
And suddenly, Ophelia seemed torn. Torn between her friend and her other friend. Torn between a woman she knew to be alone and Hugo with his large family. He had found her weak spot, apparently.
"You!" a heard a snarling noise behind him and turned around, wand at the ready. And smirked.
"Mister Weasley," he drawled slowly, his hand, immediately finding Ophelia's shoulder. An angry Weasley was able to do a lot of things – though to be fair he did not think any Weasley would harm a child. Not even his child. Though – he had not seen him for – more than a decade to be honest. 12 years? 13 years? Longer than that? Probably. But he had not changed. Not really.
Well, there were a couple of lines around his eyes and mouth but the hair was still flaming red and his ears and cheeks an angry pink.
"What are you doing here?" he shouted and Severus's hold on his daughter's shoulder tightened. "And who's that?"
"Ronald, don't you dare insult a guest of mine," Granger was coming running after him, her eyes flashing wildly, her curls bouncing and her mouth in a tight, angry line. She was – he had to admit it – quite impressive like this.
"A guest of yours? I don't want my children in such company," he shouted.
"And I don't want my children in the company of an angry, shouting father. So if you can't control yourself, I'll make you shut up," she had come close to him, hissing at him.
Severus heard – but he was tempted to simply wrap his daughter in his arms and apparate away. He had no business there. Absolutely none.
"Mister Gran...," he began, addressing her father who stood closest as his wife had taken the children to a place farther down the garden path.
"Please stay," the senior Granger said quietly. "Hermione's just told him that Hugo's a squib and – he obviously didn't take it well."
He swallowed. "Hugo is a squib?" he asked – not having believed that Granger had been honest before when she had insinuated that.
Jonathan Granger nodded. "The children don't know yet but we, and Hermione, thought he should know."
He nodded slowly. Oh – this would be difficult for the Weasleys. Agnes Weasley almost persona non grata, pushed away. Not even really acknowledged in their family and she had been a nice Squib. A kind person. A decent human being. On Dumbledore's orders, as every one else, probably, had been in those days – and giving him a safe house to stay. Nobody expected a Death Eater to stay in a Muggle home after all and after her marriage – well, nobody had known she was a Squib. But she had been ostracised – until her death.
Oh no, the Weasleys would be – less than accepting. At least at first. Severus Snape had to smirk malevolently to himself. There was some kind of justice. A little bit of justice. And he could have a little revenge on the Weasleys. Just a little on Ronald Weasley – for making his life difficult at Hogwarts. Subtly.
xx
Oh dear. Ronald on a roll. And Severus Snape in his garden with his daughter. What were they doing here? She couldn't very well ask with Ophelia standing right there, pressed against her father's leg. But it was her birthday after all and she had to acknowledge that. She glared at Ronald and took a step towards Snape and Ophelia smiled at both of them, nodding at Snape and then bending down.
"Happy Birthday, Ophelia," she said loud enough for Ronald to hear and stroked the girl's cheek with the back of her fingers. "Did you have a good day so far? Any good presents?"
She nodded happily. "My Daddy gave me a turtle – tortoise – and she's called Skippy and has shifty eyes and when I'm happy, her shell is rainbow-coloured and then he took me swimming and I learned a bit to swim and soon, I'll be able to look under the water without Daddy being afraid of..."
"Ophelia," Snape said sharply – it had, obviously been too much information. However – Skippy?
"Did you get her a mood-sensing tortoise?" she asked, straightening, looking in his eyes and he merely nodded. "Oh my," she gasped and a grin spread over her face. Mood-sensing turtles were one of the most expensive animals in the entire world. Maybe unicorns or Hippogriffs or Phoenixes would be more expensive. But their rarity – and helpfulness was turning it into a luxury only few people could afford.
"She's called Skippy," Ophelia repeated. "And she's very nice and sat on my stomach when I woke up from my nap."
"Ophelia," he said sharply again and missed the moment when Ronald lost his patience.
"What is going on here?" he asked again – not quite as loud as before but loud enough and she noticed an ever so slight smirk on Snape's face. It was only very quick and gone before anyone else but her had noticed – before his face fell into a glare – directed at her ex.
"Ophelia, won't you please run down and play with Hugo for a moment?" he told his daughter gently – his face not matching the tone of his voice and it seemed the little girl was just as surprised as she was but, a last glance directed at her father, let go off his hand and thigh and ran towards her son.
She wasn't sure how much he knew yet – Snape knew – but the smirk of her own father told her, that he had seen through it. Again. That Snape knew about Hugo. And had called him by his first name for the first time. This – coming from Snape was a clear sign. It was very obvious. By letting his daughter play with her son, he showed Ron very distinctly that he made no difference between a Muggle, a Squib, Witch, Wizard. That it didn't matter to a former Death Eater either. And this would most certainly turn the Weasleys, at least in some people's eyes (and she was sure this would come out one way or another – at some time in the future), the model Muggle-loving family into, simply put, hypocrites. Or at least Ronald. She wasn't sure yet which position Molly would take (contrary to her mother – she was sure that Molly meant well. And wanted their children to be fine. Despite her doing something wrong by telling her children about the rumours in the paper) and she wasn't sure about the rest of them but Ronald – this one was sure – was not amused.
No – well, he didn't even believe it yet.
"Is there something between you?" Ronald snapped. "Was the paper right?"
Snape raised his eyebrows but remained silent and she was – once more – tempted to just pretend that, yes, she and him were an item. If only it wasn't for her father.
"Ronald, please calm down," he said. "Hugo and Ophelia are friends."
"Who's Ophelia?"
"My daughter," Snape said silkily. "And I thank you for your hospitality," he added, nodding towards her father and then at her.
"No, stay for dinner, please. I'm sure Mum will cook with Ophelia and Hugo and Rose."
Ronald stood dumbstruck. He was obviously too shocked to say anything. He would explode, yes, eventually but for now, he was merely processing.
"No, thanks, we have to go. My housekeeper Missus Kelly is preparing dinner and is expecting us."
xx
He was sure Snape had something to do with it. The git. And Hermione telling lies about his son being a Squib. It couldn't be. Hugo was a great child and he would be an admirable wizard. He just needed a bit longer. But Neville had taken long and Neville was a good wizard now. Had a grasp on everything. He had taken long too.
Registration office – that was a rumour. Of course it was. Nobody could get in there and look at the files. They just had to wait until the magic manifested itself in Hugo as well. He was only three, no four, and he had plenty of time before he went to Hogwarts. It just wasn't on that he wasn't a wizard. It just wasn't happening.
She was just constructing this because she knew that he would have difficulties of having a Squib living with him. It just wouldn't be working in Godric's Hollow. There were only wizards and witches around – magic was used every day. As naturally as breathing and with his son there – no he couldn't do that.
Besides, he thought, looking at his boy, it would hurt Hugo horrible – if it was true (which, of course it wasn't) to see everyone doing magic but him. No, he could not possibly have Hugo living with him.
But since it was rubbish and since Hermione was making this up – since she wanted to keep the children – he would have to fight.
Though, he had to admit, it was strange. He had shown signs of magic early, Hermione apparently had, Rose had. Not Hugo. And if there was a Registration office – he would go there. Or maybe tell Harry and have Harry go there with him.
But it was ridiculous after all. Very, very ridiculous. And Snape. How did he fit in there? Oh, yes, Snape would never let his child (if it was his child) play with a Squib. Never. Snape detested Muggles. That was so true. And a housekeeper – pah. Of course he had no housekeeper. Maybe a house elf.
He couldn't figure it out though, how he fit into all of that. Not at all. How nicely he said good bye to Hermione and her father and then called for his daughter and picked her up. Said good bye to his children and Hermione's mother and then walked up to him again.
He was with Hermione – and he was nice to his children. And had a child.
He wasn't sure whether it was jealousy – after all, the love for Hermione had vanished almost completely but seeing another man take his place there – no. He couldn't let that happen.
"Thank you for the invitation," he said again to Hermione's father.
"Why don't you come on Sunday? I suppose your apothecary will be closed then?" he asked and Snape's daughter made huge, huge puppy eyes and he saw her whispering something in her father's ear and Snape arching his eyebrows.
"Thank you. We will be there," Snape said suddenly and that alone was too much for Ronald Weasley.
He lifted his wand and as soon as Snape's back was turned, he wanted to shoot a hex – when he felt himself stiffen and falling over and suddenly, he found himself flat on his back – and Snape looming over him, with his daughter looking down curiously.
"Do not try that, Weasley," the git said silkily. "You'll always lose."
xx
Thank you!