The usual disclaimers apply.
xx
It was – different – to know that there was someone in the back, watching his daughter, keeping her away from the staring customers, keeping her out of harm's way. He didn't doubt for a moment that someone like Lucius Malfoy wouldn't hesitate a moment before hexing his little witch if he wasn't paying attention. Only – Lucius Malfoy would never come in on a busy Saturday. Too many people for his taste.
Still – he had to admit – it was really helpful of her to begin to re-label the staples in the store room. Interfering, yes, but helpful. And to a certain extent, he could understand why she was doing it.
He himself – his first year of teaching – had done everything that Albus had asked of him. Had done more rounds than anyone else, had worked out a completely new syllabus for Potions, had even worked out those spells that every sixth and seventh year should know – his own experience in the months before that had brought him to do it. He had done everything – just out of gratefulness. Granted, he had not done it quite so obviously, ostentatiously as she had done – but nevertheless – he had done the same and he found more and more parallels between himself and Mary Kelly.
She too was very, very grateful and instead of thanking him every waking minute, she did things. She had cooked, she had re-labelled, had taken care of Ophelia, had helped Ophelia learn the letter V (she needed it in his stores), had made dinner together with his little witch and after he had closed the shop, she had even gone down again (when he had brought Ophelia to bed) and had swept the floor of the apothecary, had locked up (he had checked, yes) and had gone to bed herself.
This was – too much. And he would have to tell her. He would have to tell her that it was not necessary. That his cooking wasn't as brilliant as hers was – but better than that of most witches and wizards, that he would pay her a salary – every week, or every fortnight, or every month, whichever way she liked it and that it would be more than Borgin and Burkes had paid her. And that she could still remain living in the coal flat (he hated doing work, even if it was just a little wand waving for the remodelling, for nought) but that cleaning and cooking was not necessary. That she ought to save – for a new wand.
Though, the thoughts were simply made but how to tell her, he didn't know. She was already too close for comfort. And yet – she was – it was – better than he had thought, have someone with him. She had never asked about his past, but had asked that evening whether he was alright, tired, healthy. She was coping with her loss better than he had thought and she almost jumped into the task of caring for Ophelia and all the other things she did for him and for his little witch and for his apothecary. Maybe, maybe he just didn't see how she coped.
He rolled from his left side to the right side – groaning, pulling his duvet tighter around himself. Another almost sleepless night – and lunch with the Grangers the next day and he would be a wreck on Monday.
And what would be happening to Mary Kelly if they left her alone?
xx
She was sure that the grandparents and that Mummy were asleep. She had forced herself to stay awake – had not had the chance to tell Hugo since Mummy had called them down to eat – and afterwards, they had talked and talked and Rose had been afraid, to be honest, that they might overhear her and Hugo talking if they were still up. So all that was left for her to do was to make sure she was awake to tell her brother.
He had to know. And if that cost her a little sleep – so what? When Mummy had checked on them before she went to bed herself, she had pretended to sleep. That was simple. Eyes closed – but not tightly – and she had to make sure she was breathing deeply. It really wasn't difficult.
But waking Hugo was. Very. That stupid brother of hers always slept so deeply and sometimes during the night, he made snoring noises. She was really looking forward to the day when she had her own room again but she wasn't sure when that would be the case. Mummy had said something about an annexe and she had looked it up. She loved that heavy book. Something annexed as an expansion or supplement. An added stipulation or statement. A subsidiary or supplementary building or structure.
So – they planned to put a bit on granddad's and granny's house.
And that would be fun. To live with granny and granddad. Really fun!
And a room without Hugo. Lovely!
"Hugo," she hissed for the umpteenth time and shook his shoulder. "Hugo, get up!"
"Grml pfh tsh," he said – and she didn't quite understand. But that was just her annoying little brother talking. You wanted to inform him of something interesting, something of such importance that his life would be changed, and he just slept. And grumbled something.
"Hugo," she hissed with more force and jumped on his bed. The little – argh – idiot shrieked and she had to put her hand in front of his mouth. "Be quiet," she whispered and stared into his wide eyes. "Promise or I want take my hand away."
He only nodded and – as she slowly pulled away, he remained silent but panting.
"Listen, Hugo, I have to tell you something," she said and settled comfortably on the foot of his bed and she pulled him in a sitting position as well.
"Rosie, I'm tired," he moaned. "You woke me up."
She rolled her eyes. There she was – trying to tell him the most important news of his life and he was there complaining that she had woken him. The priorities that stupid boy had – really!
"What?" he asked – rubbing his eyes.
"Don't be so flippant," she hissed – and knew that she sounded like her mother. But she didn't care at all.
"Why did you wake me?"
"I have to tell you something. I told you already."
"What did you tell me?"
"That I had to tell you something," she rolled her eyes again.
"What?" he asked.
"That I had to tell you something, I told you."
"What do you have to tell me," he asked – a little loudly and Rosie had to fling herself forward and had to press her hand to his mouth again.
"Be quiet or do you want to wake Mummy?"
"Mhfmhahmph," he answered, muffled by her hand.
"Just keep your voice down," she said bossily and took her hand away again, wiping the spit that he had put on there, on his pyjama top. "And don't do that."
He grimaced, mocking her. "Tell me now?"
She was riled up now. Really. No breaking the news gently as Mummy always put it. No – definitely not. "You can't do magic and I can."
"I can't do magic? But I know that," he shrugged. "That's why you woke me up?"
"You will never do magic."
He shrugged. "So?"
"Can't go to Hogwarts," she explained. "And not work where Mummy's working."
"But I can work where granny and granddad are working?" he asked – suddenly his voice was very, very little.
She nodded viciously. "Yes. You can do teeth and I can do magic."
"Wicked!" he grinned. "And Daddy won't tell me all the time that I'll be an auror like he is?"
She shook her head. "I don't think so. An auror who can't do magic is pretty stupid."
He still grinned and bent forward and gave Rose a very wet kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for telling me," he lay back and smiled happily to himself, sighed. "I'm happy I can't do magic. Don't want to be an auror. That's stupid. You're never there and when I have children, I want to be there with them and play with them and spend time with them and not be away all weekend," he almost snorted. "Like Daddy is. I'm happy I can't do magic. I will do it like granny and granddad. Fix a few teeth and then go home and play with my children."
"And you will marry Ophelia," Rosie chuckled and hopped from Hugo's bed to her own bed and snuggled down in the pillows.
"How do you know I can't do magic, Rosie?"
"Mummy told granny and granddad," she replied and yawned. "And I heard," she explained, closing her eyes.
"Did you drop eaves?" he asked.
"What?"
"Did you drop eaves?" he repeated.
"No," she groaned. "I eavesdropped. Not dropped eaves. Stupid Hugo," she said sleepily.
"Hmpf," Hugo said and still smiled to himself.
xx
"I'm happy I can't do magic. Don't want to be an auror. That's stupid. You're never there and when I have children, I want to be there with them and play with them and spend time with them and not be away all weekend," he almost snorted. "Like Daddy is. I'm happy I can't do magic. I will do it like granny and granddad. Fix a few teeth and then go home and play with my children."
She stopped in her tracks. A shriek of Hugo's and she had been out of bed and on the way to her children. Then this. He knew he wasn't a wizard and he was really happy about it. Truly happy.
How had he found out? Who had told him? Snape? Ophelia? Mum? Dad? Rose? No – Rose didn't know either. And why were they up in the middle of the night discussing this?
"How do you know I can't do magic, Rosie?"
"Mummy told granny and granddad."
She exhaled sharply. Rose had heard them talking. Had heard her talking. And she was supposed to be a witch? And didn't even think to cast a spell on the door or the room that the children couldn't hear here? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
But he seemed so accepting. So – really happy about it. He even sounded smiley. It made things simpler – for him – but then again, she had never doubted that he would accept it. And even Rosie seemed fine with it. She didn't taunt him in any way, in fact, her girl sounded merely tired and seemed to move around the room.
She wasn't sure what to do – walk in and let them know that she had heard – or go back to bed, sure that her children were fine?
No – she had to think about it. Couldn't go in – had to let them sleep. Had to think about it first. Not act impulsively. Let it think in that her son knew the truth and wasn't in the least bothered.
Maybe – maybe she would talk to her parents first about it – though – she wasn't really sure about that. She needed a wizard or a witch to ask for the opinion. A wizard who could imagine his child to be a Squib – and who could relate. Someone who was not prejud...
Snape.
Ridiculous. Ridiculous. She couldn't simply drag him outside during lunch and ask him what she should tell her child now that she knew that he knew that he couldn't do magic. That he would never be able to.
Absolutely ridiculous.
She made a little more fun of herself – for having such an idea – and very quietly, walked back to her room, back to bed.
xx
"Alright, Hermione?" Judith Granger asked – just as she was stirring the gravy. The roast was almost done, the table set and, not surprisingly, Mister Snape with his daughter and Hermione's children in the living room, apparently playing – and John in the cellar picking out a bottle of wine. They had been very on time. And both of them looked – so Mugglish – all of a sudden. Well, he was in a suit – a rather old fashioned suit – a stroller if she wasn't mistaken (high collar – waistcoat, tie – everything in black – he looked a little like he was going to a funeral, really) and Ophelia, the cute one – wore a little dark blue dress and buckled shoes, her hair in a French braid.
"No," Hermione said suddenly and looked into the pot. "How long till this is ready?"
Jude shrugged a shoulder. "About ten minutes, I'd say," she replied and smiled. "Why?"
"Nothing," Hermione replied and dashed from the kitchen.
Judith frowned. Hermione was behaving very odd today. Very, very odd. Scatter-brained, confused and she hadn't even smiled at Ophelia or Mister Snape. Nothing. And now she was rushing to the living room and of course she had to follow her daughter. With Hermione and her impulsiveness – who knew what she was about to do. And with her not even smiling at Snape and the cute little girl (oh and Ophelia was very polite – had shaken the hand of every adult before she had darted off to greet Hugo – and, a little reluctantly, Rose).
Judith Granger stood in the door frame and watched. No, she was not throwing them out (and why should she?), instead, she had planted herself in front of Severus Snape – who was sitting a bit stiffly on the couch – and smiled. A genuine smile. Finally.
"Could I have a word with you, please?" her daughter asked softly.
Snape stared for a moment, probably in shock – but after a moment, he nodded. And both of them left the living room together – through the door out onto the terrace.
Thank you!