First Week of November - Fifth Year

"Professor Snape?" he heard called out from behind him as he left lunch in the Great Hall. He turned to see Hermione walking towards him briskly. He paused and waited. He kept his emotions masked, although the genuine little smile on her face as she approached him made, for just the briefest of moments before he tamped it down completely, a hint of something unfurl in his chest.

She caught up to him and he raised a questioning eyebrow as she stood before him. "Miss Granger?"

"Sir, um… I was reading ahead in our text and as it turns out the potion I missed brewing the day I was so ill happens to be used as a base for several other more complex potions that are coming up. While I appreciate that you did not deduct points from my missing class that day, I was wondering if it would be possible to have the opportunity to actually brew the potion properly before it's needed as part of something else?"

He had no doubt she would be able to brew the more intricate potions perfectly, regardless of not having brewed the base but he offered, "I have open office hours available tomorrow, you may attempt it then, Miss Granger."

She nodded. "I appreciate that, sir, thank you."

He nodded once more and turned to continue on his way. He noted that the new nausea potion seemed to be helping as there was color in her cheeks and no hint of dark circles under her eyes and he had seen her eating heartily at meals in the Great Hall in recent days. She looked to be the epitome of good health and he felt more than a little sense of satisfaction that he was able to provide her the potion helping to maintain it.

Seeing Hermione looking so well made his mood a bit lighter, so much so that when two first-years barreled into him as they rough housed around a corner he didn't even deduct house points, merely glared at them and said, "Gentlemen," with a raised eyebrow. He let the two boys scurry off unscathed after they both mumbled, "Sorry, Professor," while staring at their shoes.

He went on his way with a shake of his head, wondering for just a moment what his child would be like when he, and there wasn't a doubt in his mind that their child was a he, got to Hogwarts. He smirked internally as he hoped for slightly more decorum than the pair he just encountered, but with perhaps all of their innocent exuberance.

"So what do you intend to tell Voldemort about your… situation?" Dumbledore asked plainly.

Snape had only seen the headmaster a couple of times since the pregnancy became known. Dumbledore was fairly set in his opinion that Hermione should terminate it. He had couched it in words dripping with concern for her youth and future, but in reality the old wizard was more concerned about the effects it would have on his most useful spy, Harry, and the Order in general. It was a random chess piece thrown on the board that interfered with the long game Dumbledore had planned out against Voldemort and vanishing it in his esteemed opinion was simpler than trying to integrate it into play.

Snape let out a deep breath from where he stood beside Dumbledore at the balcony railing as they overlooked the grounds. "I have no idea," he answered honestly.

"Surely you don't think you can keep all of this hidden from him?"

Snape shook his head. "No. Of course not."

"You know my suggestion, it would be a far better overall solution for her and the Order and there is still time. She'll listen to you, you could and should convince her."

"It is her body and her decision. None of us get to make that choice for her," Snape replied most adamantly.

"And yet you are letting a sixteen-year old girl make that choice for you?" Dumbledore retorted.

Snape's hands on the balcony railing tightened. Of all the people in his life making decisions for him that were out of his control, he had not one qualm about letting her making this one. Hermione did not seek to control him or use him as a pawn in the cat and mouse game between Voldemort or Dumbledore, her loyalty in the matter only to the child growing beneath her heart. Their child his inner voice corrected. His reply to Dumbledore was a dismissive snort.

The Headmaster left quietly leaving Snape alone with his thoughts. He had to come up with a way to keep her safe from the Dark Lord. He had bits and pieces of ideas of how to do that and as he stood there as still as any of the gargoyles guarding the castle, he wove them together in his mind to formulate a proper plan. It was not the best plan, but it would keep her and their child safe.

Snape was was sitting at his desk grading papers while Hermione was working in her normal diligent way as she carefully brewed the potion she had failed to manage the day she ran out of class vomiting. The room was quiet save for the bubbling of her cauldron and the scratch of his quill. Oddly it wasn't an uncomfortable quiet between them.

"Have you decided what you will tell your parents?" he asked softly after flicking a muffliato towards the door.

She sighed and turned towards him. "The truth. But to be honest I am unsure how they are going to react, sir. They know about the explosion, just not the… baby."

He nodded, knowing already that McGonagall had corresponded with Hermione's parents when she was injured and subsequently healed. Inquiring further he asked, "When will you tell them?"

"Over the Christmas holiday."

He nodded then offered, "Would my presence there improve the situation when you inform them? I would not be opposed to being there if needed."

She smiled that same trusting smile she had taken to giving him and shrugged. "I appreciate your offer, sir, but it's probably best I do this alone. I honestly don't know what their reactions will be. It's fair to say they are likely to be disappointed in me and my decision. Perhaps even angry."

"Is violence a possibility?" he asked carefully. He knew her parents were educated professionals but that did not preclude them from acting rashly in such a stressful situation. His experiences with his own father had shown him that parental violence could be a harsh reality and he would protect her and their child from that at all costs.

She shook her head vehemently. "No. Never, sir. Mum will probably cry and lecture me nonstop about my future and how I shouldn't tie myself down to a baby yet and there were options for an unintended pregnancy… choices… and Dad … he will probably just not speak to me at all."

A little embarrassed, she turned back to finish her potion and he thought about what she had just said. Her utter annoyance at the thought of the "options" was evident in the tone she had used. He, along with McGonagall and Pomfrey, had all stressed to her that she had options, however none of them had actually asked her what her opinion was of said options.

"Do you and your mother have a difference of opinion when it comes to this subject?"

She kept her eyes on her cauldron but nodded. "Not entirely but enough that it always becomes an argument for us. I believe most firmly that a woman should have a right to choose and have that decision be respected regardless of what her choice actually is. My mother tends to thinks less of women who choose not to terminate an unexpected pregnancy, like it's a personal affront to any previous woman who wanted to but didn't have the option. I do not agree and we've rowed over it more times than I can count."

He had a sudden tightness in his chest. Did she decide to keep their child to spite her mother?

Suddenly she turned around, a worried look on her face and her hand protectively over her womb. "None of that influenced my decision to keep this baby. Please don't think that, sir."

He blinked, surprised at her intuitiveness and replied, "May I ask what did?"

The corners of her mouth curled up a little and she blushed a bit as she turned back to her cauldron and stirred it slowly. "Magic actually. Yours and mine. I like to think of myself as a fairly strong witch, sir, but you… you are an exceptional wizard. Your magic is effortless and beautiful to watch. And when I was weighing all my options I just kept imagining a child with your magical gifts and the decision was completely clear to me."

The lump in his throat was suddenly just there. That this extraordinary young witch in front of him would find any part of him beautiful was in and of itself mind boggling, but to hear her actually say it out loud, and so guilelessly, was something else entirely.

When he didn't say anything right away she turned around nervously, meeting his eyes and seeing his dumbstruck expression. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, sir," she said quietly.

"You did not. I am just… unaccustomed to being spoken of so," he replied gently.

"No one compliments you on your magic?" she asked with a hint of disbelief.

"Not as such, no," he replied.

Her brow furrowed for a moment at this answer but her cauldron bubbled loudly and she had to return her attention to it, the odd moment between them broken.

She finished her potion in silence and when it was done she asked him, "Will you check my work, sir?"

He stood and approached her work area. He took a good hard look at the cauldron contents, then he wafted the vapors coming from the cauldron towards him and inhaled deeply. Finally he gave the concoction a quick stir with the glass mixing rod pulling it out of the liquid and allowing it to drip off of the end slowly to see its viscosity. "How do you feel about this effort, Miss Granger?" he asked.

"According to the instructions provided I believe I've brewed it correctly, sir."

He placed the stirring rod on the bench and nodded. "You have. Leave that cauldron here, I will use it to brew potions for Madam Pomfrey's stores later."

"Really?" she asked.

"There is no sense in letting a perfectly brewed potion base go to waste," he replied noticing that she had straightened and a hint of a smile ghosted the corners of her mouth at his words of praise.

"Are you going to brew them now, sir?"

He glanced at the clock on the wall. "No. After dinner. There is no time now to start anything."

"Oh," she replied a bit dejectedly.

"What?" he asked.

She shook her head and proceeded to start picking up her notebooks and supplies. "I was going to ask to watch you work, sir."

He watched her as she put her things in her bag before he carefully extinguished the flame under the cauldron and placed a heavy cast iron cover on top of it. Not knowing precisely why, and lately that was becoming a standard in his dealings with her, he offered, "Not tonight. But perhaps we can arrange for you to assist me in brewing for the infirmary another time."

Her smile returned and she replied, "I would like that, Professor."

They left the classroom and headed up the stairs making towards the Great Hall for dinner.

As Snape and Hermione headed down the corridor she asked, "Sir, your instructions say to use that potion base within sixteen hours but our book claims twenty-four, which is correct?"

He kept his eyes straight ahead, but answered her question. "The actual full effective time of the base is twenty-four hours. That is how questions on the OWLs and NEWTs will be worded, so remember that. However, if you are brewing it to actually use, then sixteen is a better rule of thumb. You've read ahead in the text, why do you suppose that is?"

They walked a few more paces before she answered. "Oh. I think I understand. All of the potions utilizing it as a base have brewing times under eight hours, by keeping to the sixteen hour mark it ensures that the base has full potency throughout any of the secondary brewing processes."

"Correct. Ten points to Gryffindor," he said simply.

"Thank you, sir," she replied a bit absently as her brain was still spinning over the the potion concept.

They continued on their way to the Great Hall. He was feeling rather pleased with himself at Hermione's quick grasp of the potion theory, a hint of pride in her that was unexpected.

His good mood lasted only to the door of the Great Hall where Professor Umbridge was waiting with a coying little smile on her face.

"Professor Snape, Miss Granger. Fancy seeing the two of you arrive together."

He wasn't going dignify her with a response but Hermione's dratted Gryffindorness reared its head. "Professor Snape was kind enough to allow me to brew the potion I missed when I was ill during his normal office hours. I just finished."

"Oh. how generous of him, Miss Granger. Tell me, was he kind enough to allow any other student to make up work today or are you just special to him?"

He took a deep breath and took a step towards Umbridge, putting himself between her and the pink harpy. "That is enough," he said sharply.

To his delight he saw Umbridge pale a little. He turned his head towards Hermione and said in his normal speaking voice, "Go along to dinner, Miss Granger."

Hermione didn't say anything further but slipped past the two squared off professors and went into the Great Hall.

Snape turned his attention back to Umbridge. "This is the third time you've accused me of unfounded inappropriateness."

"So unfounded that you required a silencing charm on your office door? Hmm?"

"Skulking about the dungeons are we, Professor? The door in question was wide open, anyone, including you, was welcome to walk in at any time. That is the purpose after all of open office hours. But to satisfy your ridiculous curiosity, I often put a silencing charm on the door so that noise from the stairwell doesn't startle anyone working with combustible materials in the potions lab. I place a high priority on safety in the laboratories under my supervision."

"Pat answers, always with the pat answers. Soon you'll find out that pat answers are not nearly enough, Professor Snape."

"Well, until then, I'm going to dinner, Professor Umbridge. I have more open office hours Saturday morning if care to stop by," he replied snidely and stalked past her into the Great Hall.

Severus delivered the healing potions he had brewed using Hermione's potion base to the infirmary the next day and Madam Pomfrey insisted he stay for tea in her office.

She poured the tea and initiated conversation by saying, "That new potion you've given Miss Granger is a wonder, Severus."

He accepted the cup she offered and nodded. "She has confirmed that it alleviated her nausea and that she's able to eat properly."

"Indeed. All is very well on that front, thankfully," she replied without hesitation, having Hermione's full permission to discuss the pregnancy with him. She sipped her tea then gave him a knowing little smirk. "Don't think I don't know how hard that potion is to brew or how expensive the ingredients are, Severus."

He gave her a flat glare. "Neither is an issue. It is the least I can do for… them."

Embarrassed, he looked away.

Gently she asked, "How are you handling all this, Severus?"

He would have hexed anyone else asking, but Poppy had known him since he was but eleven, when he had arrived at Hogwarts a skinny, damaged child. She knew about his abusive father, the evidence of it littering his body when she had done his mandatory physical each year. She had also been the one to fix his broken bones and mend his injuries when James Potter and Sirius Black's bullying left its mark. She never judged him, never pitied him, she simply patched him up and looked after him. She was, in fact, the closest thing he had to a proper maternal figure in his life. So when she asked her question, he knew it was borne out of genuine concern for him and not looking for idle gossip.

Snape let out a sigh. "If it had been anyone than Miss Granger I would have likely thrown myself off the Astronomy tower, but, as that is not the case, I am… coping. You and I both know she is intellectually a singular witch, Poppy, and she and I are both muddling our way through this situation the best two such disparate individuals can."

"And your feelings about becoming a father?"

"Conflicted," he replied flatly, his eyes firmly on his teacup.

Poppy reached over and laid a hand on Snape's forearm. "Your past does not have to dictate your future, Severus."

"I will never be my father."

She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "Are you affirming that to me or yourself, Severus?"

He looked up and met her eyes but didn't say anything.

Poppy smiled gamely and said, "I ask that because of all the things I may not know about you these days, Severus, that I do know without question. But I worry that you don't know it."

"I am unsure how exactly to be a father other than to not be like my own."

Poppy pulled back and sipped her tea. "That's a good place to start and for what it's worth, I have every confidence you'll be a good father."

He didn't reply and they finished their tea in companionable silence, each lost their thoughts about the conversation.

Hermione knocked on Professor McGonagall's open classroom door.

The older witch looked up with a smile. "Miss Granger, what can I do for you?"

Hermione entered the room and closed the door behind her. She went and sat in the chair near the big oak desk.

"Professor, you taught Professor Snape when he was a student?"

"I did."

Hermione paused for a moment then asked, "What was he like back then?"

Professor McGonagall relaxed a bit in her chair. She could only imagine all the things spinning around Hermione's head given her circumstances. With a little grin she replied, "He was a very quiet boy, very studious, it was rare that you'd ever see him with fewer books than you, yourself carry, Miss Granger."

"Did he have many friends?"

McGonagall pursed her lips a bit before choosing the words of her reply carefully, "I would classify them more as acquaintances and house mates rather than true friends. He grew up in a dark time, child, and Slytherin had become a breeding ground for dark wizards. I often wonder if the Sorting Hat had misplaced him, personally I think Ravenclaw might have been better suited to his vast intellect."

"He is incredibly smart, I don't think most of Hogwarts appreciates that." Hermione replied with a little smile.

"Indeed they don't."

"Do you think…?" she trailed off.

"Do I think what, Miss Granger?"

"Do you think he and I might have been friends?"

"I honestly don't know, Miss Granger. Though you both have a lot in common you are still very different people and as I said before, it was a very different time."

Hermione mulled that over but didn't say anything.

"May I ask how the two of you are getting along now?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Hermione smiled. "Well actually. For obvious reasons he's treating me the same as he always has in public, but he's been most considerate and even… kind when we're in private."

Minerva wasn't surprised. She had known him a long time and had caught glimpses of the quiet boy she had taught here and there through the years, and she had seen his devotion to Hermione in particular when he had sat by her bedside night after night after the explosion.

"Good, as he should be," Minerva said with a firm little nod.

That afternoon everything changed at Hogwarts.

Educational Decree Number Twenty-three was passed.

Dolores Umbridge was now the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts.

tbc...

Author's Notes:

I am vehemently pro-choice, but I also respect that the choice to have an abortion is not for everyone. To me, each woman's circumstance is uniquely her own and her decision to either terminate or carry to term an unexpected/unwanted pregnancy should be respected and supported or it negates the entire concept of choice. I've projected that personal philosophy onto Hermione here in this chapter and I can honestly say that I've had the exact argument I wrote about between her and her mother here in real life.

I've received some feedback on the story questioning why I am portraying Snape as being so adamant that the decision is Hermione's and only Hermione's to make. The answer is simple to me really. Snape knows exactly what it means to make a decision that will affect you the rest of your life. He hasn't had the freedom of personal choices since he took the Dark Mark. His body has been pledged to Voldemort and later Dumbledore to use and do with has they will. I do not believe that Snape would ever attempt to take that agency away from someone else if it were left up to him, least of all someone for whom he has an iota of respect. He also grew up in an abusive household where his father held all the power. In this particular story of mine he desperately wants to distance himself from ever being like his father, so he would not attempt to force or coerce Hermione's decision as his father would have done to his mother.

And my Dumbledore dislike/distrust is showing a bit - lol - sorry/not sorry.

PMs/emails welcomed if anyone wants to discuss - CJ aka WritinginCT