The usual disclaimers apply.

xx

"Miss Granger?" he asked – hiding his annoyance – and, well, curiosity – admirably behind a normal, neutral, non-offensive (he hoped) mask and he did not look at her – instead took a long look around the garden. Spring was definitely upon them. Still no leaves on the trees but the grass was a little greener and it smelled – different. There were birds again – singing. And he could strangle them all. What a chipper sound.

"Pr – erm, Mister Snape, it's about my son," she said – and as he looked at her, she was even slightly blushing. Had probably not thought things through again, had been the impulsive Gryffindor she was reputed to be – the impulsive Gryffindor she had been at school. At least she looked the same way – the few lines around her eyes and the extra pound on her hips – no, they didn't change the expression on her face, the body language of the curious, impulsive Gryffindor who actually now thought about wanting to change things, take things back.

"Yes?" he drawled – making her look up.

"He found out he's a Muggle."

"A Muggle?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

"Muggle, Squib – it's all just words, isn't it?" she replied fiery, "he won't be able to do magic. Name it as you like."

"And?"

"And he seems so fine with it and don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining but - "

"What is it you want from me?" he asked, slightly testily. He didn't know why he was dragged away from his daughter, watching her play, being dragged away from her and the little Weasley girl who looked just about ready to bombard him with all sorts of questions. He would have, of course, taken care that Ophelia did not feel left out again – but he was curious, he had to admit, to see how many things the Weasley girl wanted to know this time. And now – now he was standing outside listening to Granger blathering on about he didn't know what exactly.

"Advice," she answered after a moment – her voice small and almost childlike. "My ex-husband refuses to believe me, Harr..."

"Miss Granger," he interrupted her, "it seems quite clear to me that neither Mister Weasley nor Mister Potter refuse to believe something out of the ordinary."

"But it isn't so extraordinary," she argued.

He arched his eyebrows. "For two heroes of that War," he said contemptuously, "to produce a non-magical child is extraordinary."

"And why are you accepting it?"

He shook his head disdainfully, "Miss Granger, whatever gives you the idea that I care whether your son has magic or not?"

"Because you let him play with your daughter," she answered swiftly, sharply. "Do you think any of the Weasleys will allow their children to play with my son?"

"Yes," he nodded. "I do. Your son is not a leper but you seem to treat him like one."

"I'm not treating him like one. Everyone else is. Or is going to," she glared at him. "Do you know what the Weasleys are like? They look down on Muggles. Ronald looked down at my parents. Arthur always pretends to be so Muggle-friendly but does he know any apart from my parents? No. Did he let his children play with Muggles? No. Did my ex know what a toaster was? No. A toaster, Mister Snape. Not a bloody laptop or netbook or ipod. A toaster."

"Miss Granger, you still labour under the assumption that I care. I do not. My daugher expressed a wish to play with your son and I will allow my daughter to play with whomever she wants."

She snorted. "He's a Muggle. He will not go to Hogwarts. He will not ever be fully accepted by his godfather, his godmother, his grandparents, his cousins. He won't be able to play Quidditch with his cousins. Ever. Not gobstones. Not Exploding Snap."

He shook his head again. "And why is this any of my business?"

Her shoulder slumped forward and she lifted her head to look at him. "You're right," she sighed, "it isn't. I want to thank you though for letting Ophelia play with Hugo."

He nodded. "And that's it? That's why you dragged me outside? That was the advice I supposed to give you?" he asked – scowling.

Scowling because he was confused. Scowling because this woman wasn't as he had expected it. She was accepting – but afraid what the future would hold for her son. Afraid that her son would not be accepted by most other people she knew. Apart from her parents. Maybe not even accepting by his own father. And this was something – weird.

But something he could – in a way – relate to. Ophelia would never be accepted either. He knew that and so far, he hadn't given it a lot of thought. So far, he had been content with her being there and knowing that she was happy being with him. But Ophelia would be an outcast – with him as a father. And Hugo Weasley would be an outcast because he couldn't do magic. Still – Weasley had the chance of living in the Muggle world, belonging there. Ophelia – Ophelia would have difficulties.

"No," she interrupted his thoughts. "I would very much like to ask you what I should do with the Weasleys. What to tell them, how to do it."

"You know those people better than I do," he said snarkily. "I don't see how I can give you advice on that. You've been a Weasley for long time, haven't you?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't think so. Not really. Maybe. A little. For a while. But I don't think I wanted to – I don't know. I never thought about it," she looked away – towards the fence. "I don't want my children pulled apart. And I don't want him growing up without grandparents and without a father."

He sighed. And wasn't sure why he spoke at all. He didn't know. Maybe because he could understand her so well in so deeply wanting to protect her children, maybe because she had sought him out for help and that alone was something he would have to note down in red ink in his calender. He didn't know why he spoke – but he did. "Miss Granger, the question is whether you want your son growing up without a father and grandparents, or whether you want him to grow up knowing that he will never be the equal of his paternal family."

She still looked at something far away in the distance but she nodded. "So you don't think they will just accept it."

"It is not my place to say. But you made it sound this way," he answered steadily. "Now if that was all, I'd like to go back to my daughter."

"No," she turned to him and grabbed his arm. "If I invited the Weasleys here, would you consider joining us?" she asked boldly, and looked in his eyes – deeply. Brown. Lighter than Mary Kelly's. And quite beseeching.

Why? He didn't understand. Why would anyone want to have him around – give him a chance to have the ultimate revenge on the Weasleys for never even pretending to acknowledge what he had done? This – this would be the ultimate revenge. Showing the Weasleys that he, as a Death Eater, former pureblood-fanatic (that was what they saw anyway) spend time with mere Muggles? And them – as a Muggle-loving family did not? Not accepting their own grandchild for what he was? And he did it. Even though he had no reason to and nobody would believe he would ever do it? What a way.

xx

She didn't know what kind of devil had possessed her. She didn't know why she had asked that. Where she had found the courage to ask. True – for the first time in her life – and for the first time in his life – she had talked to him about something non professional (and that had only happened once when she had taught him the spell to protect his girl) and she had got sneering, yes, but honest answers. He had not been overly mean. He had seemed to think about the matter. Had not run away. Though he had probably been close to it. He hadn't and he still looked there and looked at her with his blank expression as she had her hand on his arm. And had just asked him the most idiotic thing. And she didn't even know why.

Oh well – yes, she knew. Of course she knew. Pretending, sort of, that Severus Snape was a family friend and spend time with her family, with a Muggle family and being on her side – would be something horrible for the Weasleys. And an ally for her. He seemed so alright with the fact that Hugo could not do magic. It didn't seem to matter at all. And once more, this man surprised her. Surprised her very much. She had to look into his eyes again and saw something, the glimmer of a feeling before they shut themselves again and became black bottomless pits again. But there had been something. Something – wicked.

"I will contemplate it," he replied evenly. "However - "

"No, please," she took hold of his arm again – somehow she had seemed to let go earlier. "Please don't say however. Just think about it and let me know. Please. And of course, you and Ophelia are always welcome here. We didn't just invite you for this – or I didn't. I just think that our children get along nicely and my parents, especially my father, like you a lot."

And there was – another look in his eyes – not his facial expression, only his eyes. Astonishment. She smiled at him – and nodded towards the house.

"Let's go in before my mother gets angry because her food's getting cold."

He followed her – silently. She didn't know much about him, or much about his life. How he lived, with whom, she only knew that...

"Are you still making those excursions with your daughter?" she asked just as they reached the door that led inside the living room.

"Excursions?"

"Yes, to the Muggle sights," she explained and looked at him, smiling.

"Yes, but if you think I will take your son..."

"I do, actually. I think it would be fun for him," she smirked.

"Don't push it, Miss Granger," he said – his voice having the dangerous edge she had learned to recognise at school.

"Let me know if you change your mind then," she nodded and stepped inside, smiling when she saw all three children playing happily together – building a large house with Lego bricks and she turned to look at Severus Snape again – only to see that his features had somehow softened.

Hermione Granger smiled to herself. He was a man she wanted to get to know.