A/N: Apologies for the long stretches between posting. Between teaching and research, I barely have time for a social life, let alone hobby writing. My writing has slowed down even more recently as my grandfather, who has always been an incredibly significant influence in my life, passed away last Saturday. Many of my readers have asked how it is I manage to capture Snape's character the way I do in my writing - it's because I practically grew up with him. Ha ha. My grandfather, a former high school chemistry teacher with high expectations, was incredibly stubborn and independent, usually expressed himself through sarcastic comments, and often let his actions speak louder than his words. So, I've been feeling a bit raw lately and haven't found enough focus to work on Bound to Him. I did manage to scrounge up enough to finish this chapter, though.

I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 21: When You're Expecting

At the sound of his wife's sigh, Severus glanced up from the letter Narcissa had penned, summoning him to Malfoy Manor at his earliest convenience. Of course, Narcissa had anticipated his response that his earliest convenience would not be for several months, and had thus stipulated his arse be in one of her expensive chairs before end of day.

"What?" he asked, mindful of the dozens of eyes fixed on them.

"The Daily Prophet's jumped on board the baby train," Hermione grumbled, flipping closed the periodical.

"Does that surprise you?"

"No." She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "I just wish the newspaper would focus on real news and not rumors and gossip."

Snape snorted over his coffee mug. "And I wish students would read the pages I assign prior to the lesson, but… if wishes were horses, beggars would ride."

Hermione peered at him curiously for a moment, then glanced to her other side where her Head of House sat smirking.

"Do you mind?" the wizard gestured toward her abandoned newspaper.

His wife shook her head as she returned to her breakfast. "What's mine is yours."

With a roll of his eyes, Severus unfolded the Prophet. He glared at the printed photo of himself standing in front of the girl while scanning the crowd for any sign of her mysterious stalker. The unfortunate timing of the snapshot meant the entire Wizarding World was presently seeing him as a concerned wizard protectively shielding his young wife, whose hand was pressed against her stomach. Though he knew it was anxiety over her stalker that had caused her to do so, everyone else would assume it was a tiny embryo causing her distress.

He cursed under his breath and cracked open the paper in search of anything remotely worthwhile.

"It's a bit amusing, though."

Severus flicked his eyes to his wife. "How so?"

"Yesterday, I made the fashion column for that coat you transfigured. They described it as flattering to any figure," she explained. "Now today, they claim its forgiving cut must be hiding a baby bump."

Her husband frowned upon seeing the column in question. "You find that amusing?"

"Maybe not amusing, per se… interesting, ridiculous maybe."

"I think that's a more accurate description." Snape remarked, reaching for his coffee once more. Movement, however, drew his attention to the side, and he noticed Trelawney wobbling her way toward them. "Christ."

Hermione looked up in surprise as he refolded the paper, tossed it down on the table, and pushed back his chair. "What? Where are you going?"

"Escaping."

Bewildered, she watched him hustle away. Everything made sense a moment later when the clatter of bangles and the scent of incense and stale sherry overwhelmed her senses.

"Oh, my dear girl!" Trelawney steadied herself on the back of Hermione's chair as she squinted after Snape's retreating form. "Where is it he's gone, then?"

"Can't you divine it?" Hermione sputtered. McGonagall snorted beside her.

"Hmmmm?" the Divination professor hummed, turning to blink her large, spectacled eyes at the girl.

Hermione cleared her throat and donned an innocent tone. "Oh, Severus? Nearest loo, I expect. Upset stomach, you see. Food's been going straight through him. Afraid it kept him up most of the night."

"Oh, my," Trelawney gasped, touching her fingers to her mouth.

As Minerva failed to keep from chuckling aloud, Hermione bit down on her lip and forced herself to keep a neutral expression.

"The poor man! I hope this isn't the start of the end, but alas it must be…"

The teen feigned a look of concern. "The end?"

"I've foreseen it!" the frazzled witch declared. "A serious intestinal complication! 'Twill take him to Death's door, it shall."

Tears of mirth pricked at Hermione's eyes as she struggled to respond without laughing. "Death's door?"

"Oh…Ohhh OH! You poor, little thing!" Mistaking the source of her distress, Trelawney briefly touched her bony fingers to the girl's cheek. "So newly married, expecting a babe, and wasting away beside him… how tragic it will be! Ohh!"

"Sybill," Minerva cautioned, turning in her seat and placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Perhaps you might allow Madam Snape a bit of space to… digest the… gut-wrenching news you've just delivered her."

"Oh, oh… of course! You're quite right… it would be…hmmm… terrible shock to have one's truest love ripped away from them at such an age!" Trelawney pressed her hands to her cheeks and then with a word of sympathy, shuffled down the length of the dais and out of the Great Hall.

Upon her exit, the two Gryffindor witches could no longer contain their laughter.

"Ohh," Minerva dabbed at her eyes with her napkin. "Do you want to be the one to tell Severus he's supposed to shit himself to death, or might I have that special honor?"

"Must we tell him?" Hermione asked quietly. "I'm not certain I'd survive living with him if we did."

"It serves him right, the ruddy coward." The woman sighed and patted her student's hand. "Fine. I will keep it to myself for now, but not forever. Knowing Sybill, however, she'll be following him into the privy before too long, prophesying that 'this one will be the big one'."

"Merlin, I'll have to visit him in Azkaban."

"Severus! I'm so glad you could drop in this evening."

"Forgive me, Narcissa," he sighed, flicking a speck of Floo powder off of his sleeve, "but I'm not exactly thrilled by the necessity of this."

"Understandable, but I am relieved that you do see it as a necessity," Narcissa commented while leading him into the nearby study.

Snape murmured under his breath. "That's still up for debate."

"Oh, Severus!" Lucius called, holding up his drink in greeting as he claimed the seat behind his desk. "I hear congratulations are in order!"

The professor rolled his eyes. "There's a special level of hell for gossip columnists."

"They've certainly dragged you down to that particular level of hell, haven't they?"

"Enough, Lucius," Narcissa sighed, turning her back to him and perching on the edge of the desk. "The important thing now is to figure out how to respond to the most recent tumult."

"Why bother responding?" Severus muttered. "It's a waste of energy."

"Take a seat, then, if you're so concerned about wasting energy," the witch retorted, crossing her arms. She waited until he had done so before she continued, "This is something that needs to be addressed."

Snape leaned against the armrest of his chair and frowned. "Whatever for? They'll realize soon enough that their idiotic assumptions were incorrect."

"Provided you don't sprog up the little tart in the meantime."

The other two occupants of the room turned their heads to glare at Lucius, who snickered and settled back in his chair.

With one last silent warning to her husband, Narcissa fixed her scolding glance to the man in front of her. "Severus, this is not something that will be solved by waiting it out."

"When months pass without her popping out some squalling brat –"

"Severus!" she hissed. "Firstly, that is no way to speak of your child, even in the hypothetical sense, and secondly… you could not be more wrong about this if you tried."

"Addressing it only gives them the attention they want and encourages them to continue their asinine behavior."

"That may be, but it still needs to be dealt with."

Snape took in a deep breath and peered around her to meet Lucius's eye.

"Don't look to me," Malfoy shrugged. "I bow to superior wisdom in this farce. You're the prancing pony in her show now."

Staring at him in surprise, the professor cleared his throat. "Just how in your cups are you, Lucius?"

"Never mind his drunken idiocy," Narcissa grumbled. "We're discussing your problems at the moment."

"Fine."

"You cannot allow this to fester."

He glared at the ceiling. "Why not?"

"Because when there are no signs that she's increasing, the narrative will change. They, however, are not going to admit they were wrong. They're going to say she lost it."

Severus's eyes drifted down to hers at the quiet comment. "Pardon?"

"You heard what I said," she replied. "They aren't going to apologize for being wrong. They aren't going to simply let it be. They are going to put it in print that your wife lost your child."

The blonde witch gave a shaky sigh as she stood up and slowly began to pace.

"If you think it's ridiculous now when the press and the public are excited by the prospect of True Love's Baby, it will be inordinately worse when that is ripped away from them after months of anticipation. And do you realize where they will place their blame? It won't be placed on shoddy reporting or insipid gossip columnists. It won't be placed on you. It will fall entirely on her.

"Sympathy will only last a few flicks of a kneazle's tail before the questions start. Questions will be followed by speculations, and then those by accusations. What happened? What didn't she do? What did she do? She's sitting classes and baring her face in public? Why isn't she grieving more? Did she even want the baby? Did she rid herself of the pregnancy, then? How dare she do that to an unborn child? How dare she do that to you?

"Or if you want to protect her from that, you keep her out of the public eye. But even then, they are the ones who decide what the appropriate time to grieve is. Exceed it, and it's no longer grief, but guilt. What is she hiding? If not guilt, then evidence of mental impairment. She must be neglecting her duties and her husband, so clearly she is not fit to mother a child."

"Cissa."

"Shut up, Lucius!" she snapped.

With a quiet sigh, her husband again sank back in his seat and took another long sip of his drink.

Narcissa inhaled lengthily, repeatedly squeezing her hands into fists at her side. After a moment, she turned to face Snape, who failed to hide his astonishment at her unusual display of emotion. "We may not approve of your wife's pedigree, Severus, but I'm not about to stand silently by while you let this happen to a seventeen year old –

"Eighteen," Lucius murmured, though he grimaced immediately upon hearing his own voice.

His wife shot a scathing glance in his direction, but continued speaking. "—girl. Even if she knows everything said is untrue, it will still affect her. And whenever she does fall with child, whether you intend her to or not, she will be the first one to remember everything said about her. Deep down, she will… question herself and… that will not bode well …"

Severus rose from his chair when she covered her mouth with the back of her hand. "Narcissa?"

She waved him off, blinking rapidly. "No, I… Forgive me."

He watched her hasten out of the room, then swung his questioning gaze to Lucius, who merely stood up to refill his drink. "Should you not see to that?"

Malfoy glanced at the door and then shook his head. "When she's had a moment to come back to her senses. Until then, however, experience has taught me I shall only make things worse for both of us. By the by, should you actually manage to do something useful with yourself, might I suggest developing a fertility potion that does not turn intelligent, sensible witches into walking tempests of emotion? They'll give you an Order of Merlin without even batting an eye. Merlin, they'd probably nominate you for Minister for Magic."

"I'll be sure to start on that right away," Severus sneered as he reclaimed his seat. "You've already gone with a potion? Isn't that rather soon to resort to supplemental means?"

"I certainly thought so, but Narcissa was concerned too much time had passed," he replied. "I mistakenly allowed her to do as she thought best, and now…"

"And now you've become a lush."

"Oh, stop being such a sanctimonious bastard," Lucius sighed, collapsing back into his chair. "Given what you're saddled with, I predict it's only a matter of time before you take up the sport."

Snape rubbed his temples. "I rather doubt it."

"Speaking of sport, how goes the rat hunt?"

The professor shook his head. "I checked yesterday. No sign of anything."

"Then it probably wasn't an actual rodent that startled your nattering bride."

"More than likely not," Severus agreed.

"He may still return, especially if my darling sister is holding out the cheese."

The spy hummed in agreement. "I'll check again over the weekend."

"Do feel free to require my assistance," Lucius slurred. "I'm running out of plausible reasons to remain out of doors."

"The formidable Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, hiding from his wife."

The blond wizard raised an eyebrow. "Of the two of us, whom would you rather square off against in a duel?"

"Fair point."

Lucius slowly swirled the liquid in his glass. "She's not wrong, you realize."

With a deep sigh, Snape glanced back toward the door. "She speaks from personal experience?"

"Unfortunately. Not that it was ever in the public record, mind you, but it was spoken of amongst family and supposed friends," Malfoy mumbled, scowling at his drink. "Thank the gods her mother and my father have both toddled off this Earthly existence. They were the worst of the lot. I wouldn't have considered this if they were still lurking about, sniping at her over every little thing."

Severus raised both eyebrows and then cleared his throat. "Purposely addressing the rumor isn't likely to dispel it, you realize."

"Likely not, no." Lucius sighed. "I'm too inebriated to tell you what to do. In this state, Cissa'll take off a limb if I let you act without her approval anyway. I'm sure she'll let you know as soon as she's schemed up something."

"Just a limb?"

The pureblood frowned briefly in contemplation, then snorted. "Removing that would be at cross-purposes to her goal, wouldn't it? No, that vital organ is perfectly safe from her as long as she has need for it. The rest of me, however, is less secure from her wrath."

Severus eyed his friend for several seconds before standing from his chair. "I should return to Hogwarts. I'll tell Draco I found you in lively spirits."

"Ha!"

"Can I send you back a Sober-Up Potion?"

"Gods, no! That would defeat the purpose!"

"What about a Calming Draught?" he asked, gesturing in the direction Narcissa had disappeared.

Lucius's eyes widened. "Do you want to be the one who approaches her, suggesting she use one?"

With a grimace, Snape shook his head.

"Wise of you," the blond remarked. "After all, she has no use for your vital organ."

"GRANGER!"

Hermione jolted out of bed upon hearing her husband's shout. Taking naught but a second to verify she was decently attired, she hurried out to the sitting room. "What? What happened?"

Severus glared at her, then tossed the Sunday Prophet onto the coffee table. "Explain."

Brow furled, she read the headline 'Snapes: June Baby Expected' and then crept closer to read the smaller print. "Hogwarts sources confirm? What sources?"

With a huff, Snape dropped into his armchair, while she snatched up the paper.

After the newlyweds' behavior during a recent trip to Diagon Alley prompted speculation of an impending addition to the Snape family, the Prophet has been tirelessly working to uncover the truth. While the Snapes have not yet responded to any of the Prophet's requests for comment, sources close to the couple have confirmed it is possible that the new Mrs. Snape is, indeed, with child.

"Confirmed it's possible," Hermione snorted.

Several students and a member of the Hogwarts faculty, who wishes to remain anonymous, have described Professor Snape, 37, as being unusually attentive to his young wife's well-being.

"So far this is your fault."

"Read on," he instructed, eyes closed.

Mrs. Snape, 18, meanwhile has made no efforts to hide evidence pointing toward her pregnancy.

"Damn it," she hissed.

'I've seen her running for the loo between classes just like my mum did when she was expecting my little brother,' a fifth-year student reported.

"I was escaping Malfoy. Any sane person would run for sanctuary if they had to put up with –" She looked up at the sound of her husband clearing his throat. "What? He's obnoxious. You can't deny it even if you are his Head of House and godfather."

As Severus rolled his eyes, Hermione continued reading.

'It's really quite sweet,' wrote Sally-Anne Perks, 18, a fellow seventh year student. 'Sometimes, [Mrs. Snape] strokes her stomach like she's reassuring the baby.'

"I do not!" the witch snarled. Perhaps when quite nervous or worried, she touched her stomach, but she never stroked it. At least, I don't think I do. Do I?

Earlier this week, Mrs. Snape was spotted in the library, curled up with Mrs. McGilley's Guide to Rearing Magical Children, and was overheard seeking advice on the subject from her closest friend, Miss Daphne Greengrass, 17. Given that Mr. Draco Malfoy, 17, was also an active participant in the conversation – and his close connection to the family – it is expected that he will be named as the child's godfather. Lucius Malfoy, 44, responded to our request for comment by saying that he was not aware it was yet necessary to extend such an honor, but that his son would likely accept such a role whenever the need should arise.

"WHAT?" Hermione gaped at the words before her and then slowly raised her eyes to meet her husband's.

"What part of don't encourage them didn't you understand?" Severus asked.

"I didn't… I…" She heaved in a deep breath. "This was before the Witch Weekly article! I just… It wasn't a friendly conversation, either. I wasn't seeking advice; they were condescendingly shoving it at me. I was just trying to study, keeping up with the NEWT material, when Daphne and Malfoy started discussing about how I needed to keep at it because accidents do happen, and I'm the one who determines how magically gifted our children will be. Malfoy made awful comments about Muggles, so yes, I argued with him!"

"Mrs. McGilley's Guide –"

"I wanted a second source to see if Daphne was right about mother's magic!" Hermione glared down at the paper. "I took it off the shelf, read a few pages, and plopped it back. I certainly wasn't curled up with it."

Severus let out a long sigh and stood up from the sofa. "Bloody imbeciles."

Uncertain as to just who he was referring to, his wife attempted to shift attention away from her. "Which faculty member do you think it was?"

"Besides Trelawney, you mean?"

Narrowing her brow, she glanced down to the bottom of the article where the Divination professor was quoted as having predicted the baby's arrival 'at the dawn of June'. "Yes, besides Trelawney. The anonymous one."

Snape waved his hand dismissively. "I don't know. The idiot Laizment seems like he'd own up to his press contributions, and the rest of the staff ought to know better."

"If I had to guess, I'd place my money on Professor Vector," Hermione muttered as she sat down. "I used to think she liked me, but now it's as though I'm the dirt on her shoes. You and she never… erm, you know."

The wizard fixed her with a withering glare, which caused her to sink down in her seat. "Though it is none of your business, Miss – Madam Snape… no. Never have I you know-ed with Septima Vector."

"Well, that's a relief, I suppose." The teen struggled to rid her mind of the image of Snape and Vector wrapped around each other. "Perhaps she hates me, then, because she wants to you know with you."

"I'm finished with this absurd conversation," Severus grumbled, summoning his travelling cloak.

Hermione peered over the arm of the sofa. "Where are you going?"

"I have an appointment."

"What sort of appointment?" she queried. "May I come?"

He exhaled loudly. "A personal sort, and no, you may not."

"A personal sort," the girl repeated. Having just considered the prospect of him being sexually involved with her Arithmancy professor, her thoughts naturally strayed in that direction. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "It's Sunday morning, for heaven's sake."

"What?" Snape paused after fastening his cloak and looked to her in confusion. Eventually surmising the nature of her thoughts, he rearranged his face into an expression of censure. "Fine. If you must know, I'm meeting Lucius Malfoy."

When that only served to enhance her horrified expression instead of relieving it, he growled loudly. "Christ sake! I'm not meeting him or anyone else for a shag, you perverted little idiot."

Irked at being called such a name, Hermione sat up straight and folded her arms. "Then why are you meeting him?"

With a huff, her husband began moving toward the door. "He's assisting me with a home inspection."

"A home inspection? Why?"

Snape turned to face her. "I'm sorry, but did you suddenly become an Occlumens overnight?"

His wife snapped her mouth shut and shifted uncomfortably.

"Any other questions, madam, or might I be allowed to leave now?"

"Fine. Run along and have fun with your friend, dear." She smirked as he cursed her under his breath. "Oh, and tell Lucius Malfoy I'd rather ask a dementor to be godfather to my child than his obnoxious spawn."

Severus glared at her from the doorway. "I'll be sure to do just that."

"So this is the shit heap you crawled out of," Lucius sneered as they strode quickly through Spinner's End. "What is that gods-awful stench?"

"That would be the river," Severus responded. "You realize you weren't far from here a month ago."

"Yes, but that was after dark," the blond retorted, "I was preoccupied, and there wasn't exactly time for sightseeing."

"Sightseeing," his friend snorted. "I didn't bring you here to give a guided tour."

"Guidance is unnecessary. Muggle hovels as far as the eye can see. A well-cast Fiendfyre would not go amiss here."

Snape rolled his eyes. "I don't know why I allowed you to accompany me. You stick out worse than Granger did."

"That doesn't surprise me," Lucius replied smugly. "I'm sure she was spawned in a similar state of squalor. No doubt she felt right at home."

"I rather doubt it actually. Given her reaction, I expect she hails from a higher class."

"Higher class of Muggle," the pureblood qualified, "which cannot place her any higher quality than a Weasley. Speaking of… you didn't have the misfortune of coming second to one of their whelps, did you?"

His friend cast a dark look over his shoulder.

"Or the Potter brat, gods forbid."

"Merlin's sake," Severus snarled. "I did not come second to anyone."

"Not even that Bulgarian Quidditch player?"

"No."

"Well!" Lucius exclaimed. "The Prophet's little slut was nothing more than a tease, eh? It's no wonder you found the wedding night so tedious then. Have her skills improved any under your tutelage?"

Gritting his teeth, Snape removed the silver key and then opened the front door to his house.

"You're ignoring the question, which does not bode well for the answer. Cheer up, Severus. It's only been a month. You'll have that Muggle trained soon enough. Pity she's a favorite of Dumbledore. Otherwise you could implement more effective means of behavioral correction."

The dark-haired wizard slammed the door shut and attempted to reel in the rest of his anger.

"If the sex isn't worth the nagging, one usually can find alternatives," Lucius continued, scrutinizing his surroundings with an upturned nose. "But in your case… well, one certainly cannot be witnessed betraying the bonds of True Love to seek out a more willing body, now can we?"

"It may amuse you to know, my wife thought I might be meeting you for those particular services," Severus commented. He relished in watching the abject horror descend upon his friend's face.

The blond shivered and scowled at the dusty curtains. "Even if I were to resort to buggery, it certainly wouldn't be with the likes of you."

"Thought about it, have you?" Snape murmured, smirking upon receiving a death glare from the aristocrat. "Now, can I trust you to search for the rodent on this floor without supervision, or shall you suffer apoplexy upon finding the only lavatory is a shed in the back garden?"

"Good gods!"

"What, you're not going to eat breakfast with your new best friend, Daphne?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she plunked down beside Ginny. "How long are you going to keep this up?"

"Til I decide it's not funny any longer," the redhead grinned.

"You're the only one who thinks it's funny, Gin."

"Nah uh. Harry thinks it's funny; don't you, Harry?"

Harry awkwardly paused mid-chew and then hurriedly swallowed his mouthful of food. "Uh, erm… sure?"

"Thank you, Harry." Ginny smiled at him and then smugly looked toward her friend. "See?"

"That was incredibly convincing." Hermione sighed and glanced around at the rest of Gryffindor Table. Ron, as per usual, was avoiding looking at her, but he was pretty much the only one. Everyone else seemed to be watching her, whispering to their friends, with varying degrees of curiosity and disgust on their faces. Irritated, she cleared her throat and boldly stated, "I'm not pregnant, alright?"

"S'not what Weasley says," Seamus exclaimed, jerking his head in Ron's direction.

Hermione's eyes narrowed as they swung to her sullen friend. "What? Ronald?"

Harry set down his fork. "Ron, what did you do?"

"Page three," Seamus helpfully provided, holding up his rolled up Prophet.

"What are you talking about, Seamus?" Ron snapped. "I didn't talk to anyone from the stupid Prophet."

Glaring at her brother, Ginny picked up the nearest copy of the paper and snapped it open.

"What. Is. That?" Hermione ground out, pointing to the sizeable section of the page which had been dedicated to publishing people's opinions regarding her possible pregnancy. "For heaven's sake! Is there nothing else they can focus on?"

"You and Snape are the happiest sort of celebrities we've had in ages, so of course –"

"Severus Snape and happiest sort do not belong in the same sentence," the girl countered before realizing just how many interested ears were listening. "I mean, I love the man with every fiber of my being, but he's not a happy person… in public, you know."

"Uh, yeah," Harry mumbled. "I think we've pieced that together by now."

"That isn't what I meant," Ginny snorted. "I meant you're celebrities because of a happy thing. Who doesn't love True Love? Of course people are going to focus on you because the alternative is incredibly depressing. You've just given them another reason to ignore You-Know-Who's return."

Hermione grimaced, realizing how much easier it would be for both sides to get away with things while the populace was diverted by her personal life.

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!" Ginny shouted in a manner eerily similar to her mother. With a swish of her wand, the newspaper rolled itself up and whapped her brother on the side of his head. "How could you say such things?!"

"Say what?" Ron hissed, wincing as the charmed newspaper continued to pummel him. "I don't know what the bloody hell you're talking about!"

Harry and Hermione watched the squabbling siblings in confusion, until Seamus took it upon himself to enlighten them. With an exaggerated clearing of the throat, the Irish boy cracked open his copy of the paper and read aloud.

"When asked about the likelihood of Mrs. Snape's pregnancy, her long-time friend and purported ex-lover, Ronald Weasley, was quoted as saying, 'Well, she has gained weight recently, but then she's always been a bit of a moody cow. Circe's [expletive deleted]' – I'm assuming you said tits, Weasley, and not cunt - 'can you imagine how ugly that kid will be? And you can bet it'll always have its homework done on time.'"

Ron's face paled as the majority of the table descended into giggles. "I didn't… I… Neville, you fuckwit! That was a private conversation, and you –"

Hermione stopped listening before Neville could protest his innocence. The laughter, the shouting, the whispers – it all blended together into a wall of sound that chased her out of the Great Hall.

Compiling a mental list of everything he had to get done, Severus greatly lamented having wasted so much time checking his home for signs of Pettigrew – of which, there had been none. Listening to Lucius's rants and condescension while doing so had only served to make it take longer than it would have had he simply done it all himself. He had been up half the night brewing for the infirmary, and would have to do so again tonight. On top of that, he had Narcissa dropping by during his only free hour of the day to explain her scheme for handling the press, and the delivery from Humboldt's was due to arrive just before supper.

"Looking a bit tired there, Severus," Laizment commented, pulling his napkin into his lap. "I suppose you must be making use of what time you have left before her nightly attentions are diverted to the baby."

Scowling, Snape set down his coffee. "Pardon me, Roger, but my wife's nightly attentions are absolutely none of your business. Furthermore, considering she is still a student of this institution and in your bloody class, I think it highly inappropriate and unprofessional for you to discuss her role as my wife."

The Defense instructor reddened. "I meant no offense, Severus. Truly, I was merely being friendly. Just a bit of chit chat."

"The intimacies I share with my wife, especially those shared in the privacy of our own quarters, are not fodder for chit-chat. Not at the Head Table, not in the staffroom, and not in the bloody Prophet."

"I-I understand."

"And that goes for the lot of you," Severus stated, looking at several staff members in turn. He focused a few seconds longer on Vector, who shifted in her seat. Likely Hermione was correct in naming her the Prophet's source.

A rise in the noise level of the Hall drew his attention toward Gryffindor Table, where a charmed newspaper was swatting Weasley's head. Chuckling, Snape took another long sip of coffee and mulled over whether it had been his wife or Ginevra Weasley responsible for that bit of wandwork. Given the irate appearance of the latter, he assumed it was a sibling spat now on display for the entire school.

"Breakfast and a show," he commented as Minerva pushed out of her chair.

Muttering darkly, the Gryffindor Head tossed down her napkin and strode down the length of the dais to deal with her errant students.

A moment later, Hermione stood up from the table and made her way out of the Great Hall. From the opposite side of the room, Draco begrudgingly grabbed a pastry before snatching up his book bag and hustling after her. Believing that a concerned husband would see to that personally – rather than ignoring it as Lucius had done - Severus downed the remnants of his coffee, picked up the stack of correspondence that had been delivered to them, and then slipped out the staff entrance.

Upon intercepting the pair, he grabbed hold Hermione's arm to keep her from running off and ordered Draco back to his abandoned meal. He then tugged his squirming wife into a nearby room, locked the door, and cast a Muffliato. "And just what is your problem this morning?"

Hermione jerked away from him and crossed her arms. She remained mute for several seconds before whispering, "Ronald Weasley is my problem."

"What idiotic thing has Tweedle Dum done now?"

"You didn't read the paper?"

Snape frowned and shook his head. "I hadn't cared to ruin my day just yet."

"Apparently, at some point, Neville asked Ronald if I was pregnant. Ron said I was a fat, moody cow who would birth an incredibly ugly child, and somehow it got published in today's paper!"

Her husband sighed.

A few tears trickled down her cheek. Frustrated, she wiped them away. "I thought he was my friend, and you all said he was in love with me, but clearly not! Clearly he thinks as little of me now as he did first year!"

"I assure you, Hermione, Weasley still wants to you know with you." Severus rolled his shoulders. "He's an ignoramus teenage wizard who is angry and jealous, and ignoramus teenage wizards who are angry and jealous say horrible things they don't mean. Often to or about the witches for whom they care."

"What? Have you ever called the witch you cared for a fat, moody cow who would have ugly children?"

"Not…exactly," he stated slowly.

Hermione huffed loudly and shook her head. "Why are you all so bloody stupid? And yet… you're the ones supposedly in charge!"

"Before we get any further into a feminist rant," her husband murmured, holding up a hand, "can we just agree that Ronald Weasley is an idiot with whom you should never procreate?"

The witch glared at him at first, but then relaxed enough to crack a small grin. "Fine. Agreed."

"Excellent," he sneered. "Perhaps you might wait until after we've toppled the Dark Lord to devote your efforts toward toppling the patriarchy?"

Hermione snorted. "You say that as though they're not entirely intertwined with each other."

Deriving great pleasure from slamming the door in Draco's face, Hermione spun around to face her husband, who was peering into a drawer of his desk.

"You won't mind escorting me to supper, will you? I'd prefer to sit at the Head Table for the immediate future."

Severus withdrew a slender notebook and pushed the drawer shut. "I won't be attending the meal in the Great Hall, so you'll have to make other arrangements."

"Even better," his wife exclaimed, dropping her bag on a chair. "Might we order in, then?"

"If that is what you prefer," he muttered while flipping through several pages.

Since he had yet to even look in her general direction, Hermione silently approached his desk and craned her neck to see what held his attention. Cramped, spiky handwriting filled the pages in what looked like an index or listing of some sort.

Snape slowly raised his head to look at her. "Do you require assistance with something?"

Her cheeks heated as she sank back on her heels. "Erm, no… not really. Do you require assistance with something?"

He returned his eyes to the notebook and stood from his seat. "No. Not really."

As he strode toward the door to the hallway, Hermione frowned. "Are you not going to order supper?"

"Not at the present moment, no," he replied, "but do not let that stop you from doing so."

"Well, where are you going?"

Severus sighed as he pulled open the door. "The shipment from Humboldt's ought to be arriving at the gates. I have to verify it is as expected, escort it back down here, and then restock my stores."

"Oh." Hermione shifted. "May I accompany you?"

Her husband paused in the doorway.

"I can help with the restocking," she pressed.

"Fine," he relented, "but I do not want to hear any complaints about being hungry."

"None." Smiling, Hermione hustled after him. Upon catching up to him, she threaded her arm through his and pressed her body close to his as they walked. It was still incredibly strange to touch Snape in such a familiar way, but the nearer she was to him, the less likely it was that students would dare bother her. Thankfully, the couple mainly encountered Slytherin students on their way out of the castle, which meant whispers were minimal and the scrutinizing glances at her midsection were relatively covert.

"Good evenin', Professor Snape, Hermione," Hagrid greeted as he stood next to a bulky man and a small wagon.

"Hagrid," Severus nodded. "Denton."

"Evening, Professor," the other man acknowledged. "Brought the Missus with, eh?"

"As you see."

Hermione turned from cheerily greeting Hagrid to cautiously smile at the delivery man.

Snape glanced down at his notebook briefly, then handed it to his wife. Upon noticing she was shivering, he gave a pinched look only she could see and unfastened his teaching robes. Draping the garment over her shoulders, he murmured, "A warming charm next time, perhaps?"

"I'll keep that in mind," she retorted. "What do you want me to do?"

"Read aloud any information I ask for," he explained.

Adjusting the warm robes, Hermione glanced up at Hagrid, who had been eyeing the couple in awe. The half-giant coughed quietly upon being caught staring, dropped his gaze to the ground, and then offered her a sheepish grin. Understanding the exchange with Snape had appeared far more intimate than it had been, Hermione blushed and looked back at her husband in time to watch him gracefully climb atop the wagon and open the first crate.

It was almost bizarre to witness Snape perform such a feat. Thus, Hermione watched him rather intently and could not help but notice how the cut of his frock coat flattered his form.

Rummaging through the expertly packed potions ingredients, Severus mentally checked off the list in his head. When everything in the first crate appeared to his satisfaction, he closed it back up again and moved to the second. In the process, he noticed the delivery man frowning.

"Something the matter, Denton?"

The stocky man breathed deeply and then leaned on his wagon. With a low voice, he jerked his head in Hermione's direction. "Not that it's any of my business, Professor, but should you be keeping her out here in the cold in her condition?"

Severus rolled his eyes as he tossed aside the crate lid. "The only condition affecting her at present is being hounded by idiots wielding misinformation. Cold, it may be, but ultimately less hostile."

Denton's eyes widened. "You're sayin' she isn't expecting?"

"There are many things my wife expects," he commented drily, "but as of yet, a child is not one of them."

"Ah. S'pose it's not the first time the Prophet's gotten it wrong." The deliveryman then smirked. "Though I wager it's only a matter of time given the way she's ogling your arse right now."

Snape's head snapped up, and he glanced over his shoulder to see his young wife suddenly drop her eyes to the notebook in her hands. Unnerved, he attempted to cover his reaction by asking what quantity of snakeweed he had ordered, though he knew perfectly well it was half a pound. When she confirmed that figure, he hurried through the remainder of the crate.

Mistaking the reason behind his urgency, Denton chuckled and patted one of the wagon wheels. "Enjoy it while you can, Professor. Once the anklebiters come…"

With a deep sigh, the Potions Master closed up the crate and hopped back down to the ground. After levitating the crates out of the wagon, he withdrew a few coins from his pocket, which he handed to the deliveryman. "Everything looks in order. Tell Humboldt I'll authorize payment tomorrow."

"Will do. Oh, and I was s'posed to give you this." Denton slipped a small box from his satchel. "Didn't want it getting' crushed in one of the crates."

One eyebrow lifted in curiosity, Snape propped open the lid. He snorted in amusement, then closed the box and stuffed it in his pocket. "I'm sure she'll appreciate the gift."

Winking at him, Denton cleared his throat. "Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Snape. Have a lovely evening, now."

Stifling a yawn, Hermione picked up the next two jars from the basket and set them on the shelf. The label she had placed on one of them appeared crooked, and she hoped Snape would not notice. At least her handwriting had been perfectly legible.

"If you're tired, by all means, return to our quarters," Severus muttered. "You need not waste your entire evening with this."

"It's not a waste," she sighed, shelving another jar. "Am I slowing you down, or something?"

He shook his head. "Without your assistance, I would still be aliquoting the bulk supply into the individual jars."

"How often do you have to replenish these?"

"A few times a term. More, if I have several of Longbottom's ilk sitting my class."

Hermione grit her teeth, but mentally relinquished the point. Neville had destroyed a large quantity of ingredients over the years. Until now, she had not considered all of the effort Snape exerted to ensure his stores were stocked well enough to support seven years' worth of student brewing. It had taken the two of them the better part of the night, minus the half hour or so she had convinced him to break for supper. She could only imagine how long it would take him working alone.

"Before I forget, this is for you."

The witch startled at his sudden proximity and glanced down at the small box he held. Confused, she flicked her eyes to his face as she took it.

"It's not from me," he explained.

Hermione cracked open the lid to reveal a pair of jewel-tipped flutterwings, which had been fashioned into rather delicate-looking earrings. A note penned on the inside of the box lid answered her unvoiced question.

Keep your chin up, girl.

"Mr. Humboldt"

"This was meant as a kind gesture, yes?" She glanced up at her husband. "Not some cryptic Slytherin threat?"

Severus raised one eyebrow. "And every cryptic message from a Slytherin must be a threat?"

The witch flushed. "Sorry."

"It is neither threat nor warning, merely encouragement. Besides which, I thought we already discussed Humboldt's Ravenclaw status."

"I suppose we did, yes." Hermione tilted the box back and forth, marveling at the way the amethyst-colored wings flashed with streaks of copper. "They are beautiful. He seems like a very nice man."

"Better than most," Snape agreed.

"But why did he sign his name in quotation marks? That seems a bit odd."

The wizard smirked. "Because it isn't actually his name, and it amused him you thought it was."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

"That very nice man who sent you jewelry is Aethon Malfoy, uncle to Lucius Malfoy and great uncle to Draco Malfoy, whom you detest so."

"What!" she gasped. "But… he's… why is he called Humboldt, then?"

Severus picked up the jar with the crooked label. "From what I understand, he never got on as well with his father Helios as did his elder brother Abraxas. Since he was merely the spare and not the heir, Aethon did not care as much for high society, which led to Helios referring to him often as a 'humble dolt'. When he decided to strike out on his own with little support from his father, he did not want the Malfoy name so blaringly associated with his business."

"So he came up with Humboldt from humble dolt," Hermione surmised. "Merlin, what is it with the Wizarding World and their pseudonyms?"

Her husband focused his attention solely on reaffixing the label and refrained from commenting.

If Mrs. Snape is due at the beginning of June as was reported in the Prophet, just when exactly did she fall with child? The Snapes claimed relations did not commence until shortly before the marriage, but they are already preparing for a gender reveal potion. Granted, it has been quite some time since I had use for one, but I do believe those potions only work after the eighth week of pregnancy. The Snapes have been wed for less than half of that. Did they lie about their sexual history? I, for one, would like to know. – Albert Gleasen

Hermione growled and tossed the Daily Prophet aside before noticing Lavender and a few of the sixth year girls watching her from the other end of the table. She glared at them and then at her teacup, wishing that Snape had accompanied her to breakfast instead of locking himself away in his brewing lab.

"We don't think you lied, you know."

Hermione raised her eyes to Parvati, who had quietly approached her. "Thanks for that, then."

"Yeah, babies are born early all the time," Lavender added as she flounced over. "My mum says I was three weeks early."

"I'm not –"

"That, and no one in their right mind would fuck Snape without being influenced by a potion," a nearby fifth year muttered, earning several quiet chuckles.

Too tired to protest as Lavender and Parvati continued talking about babies, Hermione rolled her eyes and picked up her toast.