Chapter 4: The cuckoo parent

Minerva McGonagall held her shoulders back and her head firmly upright as she apparated to Cokeworth. Severus Snape had only been teaching three months, and he had the audacity to say he couldn't make it to work? She'd told Albus that it was a foolish idea to hire a teacher so young, and so closely connected to He-who-must-not-be-named. She was quite sure that the young man wasn't trustworthy, and here, here was proof!

She checked the address on the scrap of parchment, and looked up at the house. Ramshackle, she thought, with pursed lips. The boy couldn't even be trusted to keep up a house, so what was he doing teaching? Her Gryffindors already disliked him intensely. In the anger of the moment, she forgot that she'd told them, and quite rightly, that just because they were kept in order in lessons didn't mean he was a bad teacher… quite the opposite. Minerva was forgetting a lot of things in her annoyance at having to supervise a third year potions class in her free lesson. She'd forgotten that she'd actually been in favour of Albus' decision to hire the young man: he was excellent at potions, though a little young. She pushed open the creaking gate and strode smartly up the overgrown path to rap sharply on the door.

What was that odd noise she could hear? There was no answer to her knock, just an odd whining noise. Was Severus Snape torturing cats in there? She would almost not be surprised. She raised her hand to knock smartly once again.

By the third time of knocking, her patience had run out. "Severus Snape, if you do not answer this door, I shall knock it down," she called. She was about to carry out her threat, pulling her wand from the pocket of her cloak, when the door swung open.

Minerva openly goggled. There stood Severus, glowering down at her, as lank as ever. It was not him that surprised her: it was the child squirming in Severus' arms, red faced and crying. "Severus…" she began.

He cut her off. "You'd better come in," he declared, stepping to the side so she could enter. He glanced out into the street before he shut the door, but, of course, no one was there. Spinner's End was down by the murky river, too far out of town to be lucrative, and the other houses on the road had long since fallen derelict. It was mostly spellwork that kept it standing and stopped the roof from leaking. Much.

"What is the meaning of this, Severus?" Minerva asked sharply. "Who is this child?"

Severus sighed deeply, bouncing Robin on his hip. The child was inconsolable. "I think you'd better sit down," he said. "It's a long story." He waved her through to the kitchen. Once there, he deposited Robin into the playpen he'd transfigured from a couple of kitchen chairs, filled with a blanket and a collection of bright blocks. The child shrieked, smashing a block off the floor in frustration.

"Is he… alright?" Minerva questioned shakily. She was unused to very young children, never having had any herself. Usually, her nieces and nephews and their children were handed to her warm, fed and happy for a cuddle, not like this scarlet-faced toddler with tear tracks on his cheeks.

"He misses his mother. Do you want tea?" Severus snapped, not incredibly hospitable. At least he had a real pay packet coming in now, and he could eat at the school, so things were not so desperate, and he could be sure of having tea and sugar and milk and even a packet of biscuits to offer Minerva.

"Oh… yes. Tea would be lovely. Severus… is he… yours?" Minerva asked, staring in fascination at the child. His screams slowly fading, he stared back. He hiccoughed, and started crying.

Minerva sat. She didn't remove her outdoor cloak: Severus didn't blame her. He was wrapped in thick robes, and Robin was swaddled in layers. It wasn't warm; and the kitchen was by far the warmest room in the house. Severus filled the kettle and put it to heat. He supposed he should be grateful that Dumbledore hadn't shared news of Robin, even with the assistant headmistress. "He is," he confirmed. "His name is Robin."

"But, Severus, a child?"

Severus reached down into the playpen to hand Robin a digestive. The little boy looked up at him, tears still brimming in his eyes though he stopped shrieking at the sight of the biscuit. "Milk?" he asked lispily.

"In a minute," Severus informed him. He turned to place the packet of biscuits on the table. "I suppose," he said to Minerva, "Professor Dumbledore did not mention that I have a child."

It was not a question, but Minerva had plenty of those. "Who is his mother, Severus? Where is his mother?"

"An excellent question," Severus replied smoothly, filling a lidded cup with spell-warmed milk for Robin. "I have no idea where she is. I arrived at her home yesterday evening, as is my custom, to discover Robin completely alone. I spent the night there, awaiting her return, but this morning was compelled to relocate here so I could send a floo message informing Professor Dumbledore that I would be unable to work today, as I had no one else to take care of the child."

"But who is she, Severus?" Minerva pressed. "I still don't understand."

"A muggle woman," he admitted. "Robin's conception was something of a… mistake."

"Are you married?"

"No," Severus replied shortly. "Annie lives with Robin, I visit each day. It is a system which works for us. Until that is, she vanishes without trace. I do not know when she will return, and thus, when I will be able to return to work." He set a chipped mug full or tea down before Minerva, and bent to pick up Robin before seating himself. The boy seemed less upset when being held. Robin, his toddler hands full with his cup of milk, watched Minerva warily. She looked back, openly fascinated. "To what do I owe your visit, Professor?" Severus queried sharply over a new grizzle from Robin as he stared at the unfamiliar visitor.

Minerva looked away from Robin's dark eyes as if pulled from hypnotism. "Oh," she said. "Yes." From within her robes, she pulled a shrunken tartan shopping bag. "The homework you set the third years, and also the fifth years. We were unable to cover the fifth or seventh year classes, so they were cancelled.

Severus sighed. He felt guilty. He knew that he should have been there. He needed to keep a rein on his classes: he was still too new to allow them leeway. He remembered what Hogwarts students were like, very clearly: the current seventh years, after all, have been fourth years when he had left. Robin, sleepy now that his stomach was full of warm milk, blinked sleepily up at Severus. "Mama?" he asked.

"Soon," he told the child. "Sleep, Robin." He looked up at Minerva. "He has been too upset to take his usual midday sleep. It is not contributing well to his mood, I think." He gently pressed Robin's nodding head down into the crook of his elbow: the crying, the surprise of a visitor: it had all become too much for the toddler. He sunk into sleep. The child was too big to sleep in his arms like this, Severus thought, but he didn't want to risk waking him.

"How old is he?" Minerva asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the newfound quiet.

"Two next month," Severus replied absently, leaning forwards to flick through the essays. "Forgive me if I keep holding him; he tends to wake if he's moved."

"No, no, that's fine," Minerva assured him. "I wouldn't dream of waking him." She was looking around: Severus couldn't miss the appraising glances she was giving the room. The charms and glamours he'd lain on in a vain attempt to sell the place had all failed: it was as dismal as he could ever remember it. He spent very little time here now; eating and marking at the school or at Annie's, now. It was a shame that it was no longer standard for all the professors at Hogwarts to receive their own living quarters. Most, it appeared, did not want to live at the school in any case. Minerva ceased her inspection of the peeling wallpaper to turn flinty eyes back to him. "Does the bairn's mother often vanish?" she asked.

"Never before," he replied heavily. "She dotes upon him. I've checked everywhere I can think of. She is prone to fits of melancholy… I worry that perhaps, she has succumbed to one, done something to harm herself…"

Minerva shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "What will you do if… if the worst has happened?" She couldn't quite bear to speak the word 'death' before the child, even a sleeping child.

Severus used the hand that wasn't full of Robin to rake his fingers through his hair. "Find someone to take care of him, pay someone. Two years ago, I would probably have had no problem with the notion of handing him over to the muggle authorities and never looking back, but… he's my child. He relies on me."

Minerva nodded absently. "Severus, this place is disgusting," she declared. "It's freezing, it's filthy… it's no place for a child."

"I am aware of that," he replied, his tone barbed. "I am not stupid. Robin does not usually stay here; I merely did not wish to leave him alone whilst I had to be here. I have potions brewing, and I needed to floo the Headmaster." He stroked Robin's soft baby hair: it was silky and almost reached the boy's shoulders: Annie was as reluctant to cut it as Severus. His hair was beautiful, curls as fine as dandelion fluff and rich chocolatey brown with a sheen like oil on water, a far richer colour than the wings of the bird that gave him his name. "I am not the best of fathers, Professor. I am only twenty-one. I know I am young, but my child is the only good thing to have come from my life. I will do anything I can for him"

Minerva shook her head sadly. She rose from her chair, examining the room. "It was not my intention to berate your parenting," she informed him, not unkindly. "I wish to help, Severus. Even without a child, this is not a fit place for you to live. You will have chills and colds all year round, and I can tell that you have no money for repairs, because you are supporting young Robin. No. I may have a solution."

"What?" Severus asked mistrustfully. He was wary of 'solutions'- Dumbledore 'offering' him the job of Potions master was billed as a 'solution'.

Minerva tapped her wand against a wandering crack in the wall, knitting it together with an odd grinding sound. "Septimus Vector has been head of Slytherin for two years. However, he and his wife wish to start a family, and become non-residential staff. He's asked to be replaced as head of house as soon as possible, but he is the only former Slytherin on staff at this time… except you. He was delighted to hear that you would be joining the staff, but Albus told him that you would not be ready for the responsibility." She paused, leaning against the dingy counter, and appraised Severus with calculating eyes. He met her gaze. "I can see now," she continued, "that you can be trusted with the welfare of children. Your son clearly adores you, and you care for him well. Unlike this house, he is clean, and he appears healthy and well-fed. The position comes with rooms in the castle, and a small additional stipend: some five galleons a month. All meals, of course, are included. If necessary, your child could live with you, and be taken to a childminder, and, later, school in Hogsmeade, during teaching hours. It is not without precedent. He would have to be largely confined to your rooms during term-time, of course."

Severus mulled over the idea, idly chewing his lower lip, his hooded eyes downcast, looking at his boots, which were developing a hole in the sole. "Robin is something of a secret," he admitted. "There are those who would harm him, if they knew of him."

Minerva moved back to the table, pulling her chair a little closer to Severus'. She leaned forward. "I am a high ranking member of the Order of the Phoenix, Severus. I know the bargain you struck with Albus. I know what you are."

"Do you really?" Severus asked dismissively. Did she know that Dumbledore had blackmailed him? How could she, when she didn't know the hold Dumbledore had over him, the safety of the sleeping child in his arms?

"I know that you were a follower of He-who-must-not-be-named. I know that you have turned to the light, and if Albus trusts you, then so do I."

Severus privately wondered if that was wise. Dumbledore, in his opinion, was not a man to be trusted. Severus had no choice, but he'd learned his lesson. Should he trust McGonagall? "You are sure there would be no problems raised with my son living at the castle?" he confirmed. "I need to make sure that his existence is not widely known. The Dark Lord is unaware of him."

"So long as he remains in your rooms, the students need never know of his presence," Minerva assured him. "As a head of house, you would have a working floo to deliver him to childminders, or to school, later on. If necessary, you could claim him as an orphaned cousin, perhaps? Being halfblood, few will care enough about your muggle heritage to check the veracity of your claim."

He nodded slowly. "It is a possibility," he agreed. "A fair idea, in fact." The Dark Lord would still not like a muggle relative, but they news would be less likely to spread. "You are sure I am capable of head of house duties?"

McGonagall smiled tightly. "You are sitting with a child asleep in your arms, Severus. It is an image so incongruous I had never even thought to imagine it. You care far more than you allow us to believe. You will be a good head of house. And if you discover that you dislike it… well. We shall find someone else for the position. Head of Slytherin has always been a difficult position to fill: so few Slytherins go on to teach. Head of Ravenclaw, now, that is an easier job entirely." She patted his hand with her bony one.

He nodded slowly. It would be a great relief not to have to spend another winter at Spinner's End, not to have to cook, even at weekends…

"Excellent," McGonagall declared. "I shall discuss it with Septimus to see how best to hand over, and make sure you have enough support."

"Thank you," he murmured, little more than a whisper as he kept his gaze fixed on Robin, the soft eyelashes resting against still-flushed cheeks.

Minerva stood, tucking her chair neatly back beneath his kitchen table. "Thank you for the tea, Severus. I will see you tomorrow."

Severus looked up. "I can't leave Robin alone," he reminded her.

"I know that," Minerva replied. "Bring him with you. Poppy will probably be more than happy to take care of him for a day or two."

Severus hadn't felt grateful to anyone in a long time, not in the way he felt grateful to the dour Scotswoman before him. "I think we could be friends, you and I, Severus," she said.

He made a noncommittal noise. Besides Lily, he didn't think he'd ever really had a friend. To people like Lucius… well, to the outside world they might appear to be friends, but powerful men like Lucius didn't have friends, they had allies, and Severus was intelligent and magically powerful enough to be a useful ally. Minerva pursed her lips. "I shall see myself out," she said. "And I expect you to be present in your classroom for first lesson tomorrow."

"Yes, Professor," he sighed.

"Minerva will be fine," she informed him tartly. "Until tomorrow, Severus."

"Tomorrow, Minerva," he responded, the familiar name feeling odd on his lips.

She left the room, and he heard the front door open, but not close. He sighed. Had she really not closed the door behind her? He was about to get up to do it when she called back, "You have another visitor, Severus."

"What?" he snapped, standing too quickly. He disturbed Robin, waking him and causing a whimper as Severus strode through to the hall. Severus cursed under his breath: getting the child back to sleep would be a nightmare.

Annie. Oh, Merlin, Annie was on his doorstep. Sleepy, whingey Robin immediately crowed in delight. Severus tried to not to feel resentful as he set the little boy carefully on the floor, letting him toddle over to Annie and wrap his little arms about her legs. "Annie, where in Salazar's own name have you been?" Severus demanded. Minerva, knowing that she was no longer needed here, slipped past Annie, and behind her, Isabel, clutching a set of car keys. Walking to the end of the garden path, she checked for witnesses. Isabel was watching her, so she walked around the corner before apparating away.

"Where have you been?" Severus demanded of Annie, now crouched to cuddle Robin. He towered over her, and used his full height in an attempt to intimidate her. It failed. "You were away all night!"

"Here and there. I needed a break," Annie said quietly, smiling happily at Robin..

"Here and there?" he parroted furiously. "Annie, you left a child alone, unattended- my child! You can't do that! He's two years old, Annie!"

Annie seemed utterly unfazed by his fury. She picked up Robin and wandered into the kitchen in the house she'd visited only once, somehow seeming to know her way around. "Let's get you some milk, dearest," she crooned.

"He's just had some," Severus growled, but Annie didn't even seem to hear him.

His face contorted in frustration, Severus glared at Isabel. She held up her hands, keys dangling from one finger. "Don't look at me. She showed up at my place whilst I was at work; I found her camped out on the doorstep. First thing I did was drive her straight home. We saw your note, so I stopped to get us something to eat on the way here, but other than that, I haven't been keeping her."

"Then where the hell was she?" Severus spat. "How did she get to yours?"

Isabel shrugged. "No idea," she said. "She won't say. Look, she needs help. She seems to have no idea why leaving Robin alone was a bad thing… it's like she thinks he deosn't exist when she's not there. She needs to see a doctor, Sev. Her brain's not wired right."

"I know," Severus sighed. He'd been avoiding the problem for far too long, blaming it on scatterbrainedness, or post-partum depression, or lack of adult company, but it was clear that Annie simply couldn't cope. She seemed utterly unrepentant, and didn't seem to understand the severity of leaving such a small child completely alone.

"Do you have someone who can look after Robin if she can't?" Isabel asked quietly.

"There are… possibilities," he admitted. He hoped that it didn't come to that, but if his son was in danger of neglect, it was his duty.