A/N - The summary was a prompt in the 2017 Secret Snarry Swap, organised by the snape-potter community on LJ/DW. Unfortunately, I didn't complete it at the time, and so it languished for several years until I accidentally discovered the Snarry AUctoberfest 2020.

"Severus." Ting-a-ling.

"Severus." Ting-a-ling-a-ling.

"SEVERUS!" Ting-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling!

"Waahhhhhhhh!"

Groaning, Severus levered himself out of the rocking chair where he'd been almost successful in getting their little princess to sleep. He wished he'd never given Harry that Merlin-be-damned bell, but without it, Harry had shouted himself hoarse – and had then sent half a dozen Patronuses to fetch Severus anyway.

Clutching the baby to his chest, he made his way to their bedroom. Harry was sitting up, pillows stuffed every which way behind his back.

"Shouldn't Jasmine be asleep by now?" he asked, frowning at the wails coming from their daughter.

"She was – until you rang your . . . bell," replied Severus, barely managing to swallow the curse word he'd been about to use. He stopped beside the bed, and began to gently sway from foot to foot, hoping to convince Jasmine to drift off again. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work. His stubbornness and Harry's had apparently bred as well; Jasmine had more than her fair share of it. "What did you want this time?"

"A snack?" Harry asked, hopefully. "And another pillow or two."

"Harry, any more pillows and you won't be leaning back but bent forwards," Severus pointed out dryly. "Here." He handed the still-wailing Jasmine to her other father and plumped up the pillows he could reach, adjusting the shapes of them. "Is that better?"

Harry made a small noise of discontent that was lost under their daughter's louder noise, but said, "It'll do, I suppose," in a very long-suffering tone, which Severus ignored. If anyone was long-suffering during this pregnancy, it was him. "Snack?" Harry added, more cheerfully.

"Fine," Severus sighed. "You can put Jasmine back to sleep while I get it. What do you want this time?"

"Carrots," said Harry, decisively. And then, as Severus was turning to leave the room, "With tar," he added.

Severus missed his step and almost fell over. "Tar?!" he spluttered, righting himself. "As in road tar?!" He could feel himself going green at the mere thought. "Harry, I don't think—"

Harry scowled in a manner that suggested he would have folded his arms and pouted if his arms weren't already occupied with their daughter. "I. Want. Baby. Carrots. With. Tar," he stated, crossly.

Wincing – he'd been on the wrong end of too many of Harry's hormone-and-craving-driven moods lately – Severus hastily backed up. "Fine, fine," he agreed. "I'll just . . . go get your tar." As soon as he was out of Harry's line of sight, he made a disgusted face. Of all the cravings . . . where am I supposed to get TAR at this time of night?!

Hands were trailing down his back, leaving shivery tingles – or was that tingly shivers? – in their wake. "Sev'rus," a voice whispered in his ear. Fingertips walked themselves down the side of his arm and onto his waist, and he held his breath, anticipating them moving further downwards. "Sev-e-rus," the voice breathed out again, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up, even as he found himself shifting his hips backwards, trying to convince the fingers to move . . .

"Severus!"

Severus yelped as he was jolted awake by an elbow in the ribs. "What? What? What is it?" he spluttered.

"I need you to help me to the bathroom," said Harry, crossly.

Severus silently groaned to himself and resisted the urge to bury his face back into his pillow. Harry had unfortunately grown big enough that any movement faster than a waddle just wasn't going to happen. Which meant he needed a lot of help.

Reluctantly, he forced himself to his feet and trudged around the bed to Harry's side. Harry mutely thrust his arms up, and Severus took a firm grasp to pull him upright. Just as Harry was shuffling round so that Severus could further pull him into a standing position, however, he suddenly tensed and froze.

"Harry?" Severus asked, already fairly certain he knew the answer. It wouldn't be the first time Harry hadn't made it to the bathroom on time in recent weeks.

This time, however, Harry winced in something other than embarrassment. "Um—ow," he hissed, and hastily pulled one of his arms free from Severus' grip to clutch at his bump.

"Harry?" Severus repeated, alarmed.

"I think—" Harry paused to wince again. "Oh God, I think that was my water breaking. Oww-w-w." He pulled his other arm free, clutched his stomach and doubled over. "Sev, I think I'm in labour," he panted.

Severus felt the first stirrings of true panic trying to creep over him, but he firmed his Occlumency shields and figuratively stiffened his spine. Harry would be fine; he'd been through this once before already, and this pregnancy had been smooth sailing so far.

If you don't count all the cravings, of course.

"Come on." He reached for Harry's arms again. "Stand up, then I can get you – and the bed – changed before I call for the midwife."

It took five minutes before he managed to get Harry off the bed, and it seemed the contractions were coming thick and faster; much faster than they had the first time, as Harry barely waited for the bedding to change before he was all but diving back onto the bed, wiggling into the position that the midwife had told them would probably feel most comfortable for him.

By the time another ten minutes had passed, Harry had progressed to screaming and cursing Severus' name, the midwife had been summoned, Jasmine had been woken and yelled loudly enough to rival Harry about it, and Ron and Hermione Weasley had been rudely dragged from their beds to come and look after her.

Ron had taken one look at the events going on in their bedroom, turned a nasty shade of green and hastily barricaded himself into Jasmine's nursery.

"Won't be long now," the midwife told Harry, patronisingly. "Baby's almost here."

"I can feel that!" Harry howled at her, then tipped his head back and howled some more at another contraction. By the time she primly informed him he was allowed to push now, Severus had the distinct impression that Harry was imagining pushing her off the edge of a mountain.

But finally, Harry's screams were overlaid by a thin, trembling cry, and he slumped back into his pillows, exhausted tears running down his face.

"It's a boy!" the midwife cooed at the baby as she waved her wand over it – him – to clean him off and snip the umbilical cord. Another wave swaddled the baby neatly in a royal blue blanket, and then the baby was floating over to gently land on Harry's chest.

"Look, Sev," Harry sobbed, sniffling as he wrapped his arms around the baby. "We have a son."

Severus would deny it to his dying day and beyond, but he did a bit of sniffing of his own as he gazed down at his husband and child. "He's wonderful," he croaked.

"Have you decided on a name?" asked the midwife, cheerfully. She was holding a quill above a sheet of parchment – the birth announcement.

"Definitely not James or Sirius," Severus said, hastily.

Harry pouted at him for a moment, then suddenly smiled. "I know! What about Albus?" he suggested.

Severus gaped at him for a moment before he found his voice.

"We are not naming our son after Albus Dumbledore!"