This couldn't wait. Severus and his subconscious needed to have a little chat. That required preparation, because the downside of being one of the most accomplished Occlumens in the wizarding world was the risk of Occluding one's own thoughts.

Severus crawled out of bed, careful not to wake Hermione, and crept down the stairs in his nightshirt.

The only things that could compromise his shields were large amounts of alcohol or extended contact with Harry bloody Potter. Irrespective of the fact that these days the Chosen One would probably be only too happy to assist Severus should he ever be so desperate to actually consider asking The Boy Who Couldn't Just Die And Stay Dead and thus take out all the potential fun of waking him up at three a.m. in the morning, extended contact with Potter also resulted in elevated blood pressure, the impulse to grind his teeth to dust and was generally bad for Snape's health. Hence the bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey he had stashed away under the kitchen sink for exactly such a purpose. Severus seldom drank: a consequence of growing up with an alcoholic father who beat his wife when sober and turned on his son when drunk. He mainly used it as a tool to loosen tongues, including his own.

It was a good thing the Dark Lord hadn't allowed alcoholic beverages at Death Eater meetings or Snape might have ended up as a corpse flambé on Nagini's menu.

Severus fetched the Firewhiskey and took a swig. Half a bottle later he had established contact with his subconscious. It wasn't happy with him, but what else was new?

You should find another way to explore your feelings. You know that.

"Yes, yes, get on with it." Severus paced around the kitchen with his hands clasped behind him.

That necklace you picked for Hermione's birthday is wonderful, but you should take her out for a romantic dinner-

"Babies! Get back to the topic, what's that about a baby in my dream? Why do I suddenly want to become a father?"

Not suddenly. You've been thinking about it for some time now.

He stopped short. "I haven't! That's ridiculous!"

Then why are you always watching the children when you think no one is looking?

"Someone has to keep an eye on Potter. Any Potter, no matter which generation."

You wondered what it would feel like touching pregnant Ginevra's baby bump.

"Purely scientific interest."

If you say so. And being angry when Ronald Weasley and his wife announced their pregnancy?

Severus wanted to glare at his pesky subconscious. "I wasn't angry, I was annoyed. Sometimes I forget that I'm no longer a teacher and won't have to teach the next generation of Weasley pranksters."

Bollocks. You were the odd man out again, watching others leading the life you think you will never have. Like you felt before I pointed out that you should give Hermione a chance. 'When you love someone, all your saved-up wishes start coming out.'

"What the- stop that schmaltzy nonsense! I've gone mad, that's it, isn't it? Next I'll spout Beatles lyrics."

She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah. Oh come on, Severus, your glower doesn't work on me.

"If you don't start making sense I'll go back to bed."

Then I'll send you another dream. And another. Until you listen.

"I don't believe you. Why would I want children? I hate them. Babies are worse because they smell."

Oh, please, you want to make me believe you are afraid of changing nappies? You work with smelly obnoxious ingredients every day. And no, you hate other people's children. Your and Hermione's child? That's a different kettle of fish. Being a parent doesn't obligate you to fawn over other people's spawn. Think of yourself as an old plush toy that sat on the shelf for its whole life. Now that Hermione cuddles you, the old stiff stitching comes loose and your soft filling spills out.

"That mental picture is disgusting in so many ways I can't count them all. I think I'm going to be sick." He pulled back a chair from the table and slumped down. "I don't know how to be a father."

You'll learn. Just as you learned to be happy with Hermione. You are not your father and she is not your mother.

Severus rubbed over an old stain on the table top with his fingertip. "That's all well and good, but according to Molly Hermione doesn't want children."

Just because she doesn't want a flock of red-haired children doesn't mean she won't have one with you.

"It's not something that has come up so far. What can I do? If that's the reason she broke up with Weasley-"

Now that's the question, innit? I told you Weasley is not an issue here. Just ask her.

"I'm a Slytherin. I was a spy. I fooled the Dark Lord on a regular basis; I'll come up with a cunning plan."

Or you could, you know, just ask her.

His fingers halted. "If I could convince her that it was her idea all along..."

Yes, splendid idea. Or you just... you know what? Never mind. Try it your way first. Now that's sorted how about you loosen up a bit so we can have a chat without you royally pissed? If I didn't send you a dream from time to time you would never listen to me.

"Get stuffed."

And nice talking to you, too. Ta-ra!

So that was settled, then. He only had to shattegise - no, stratte-, strategi- bloody hell was he pissed. He only needed a plan.

It took him three tries to pick up the vial from the table before him and pull the cork.

I really think you should just ask-

Snape swiftly downed the Sober-Up potion and winced when his temples turned into a painful throbbing mess. The instantaneous return to soberness was as pleasant as a blow to the head and had the same after effects, but he had much thinking to do.

Anyone who had ever witnessed Severus fight Dumbledore's orders tooth and nail before giving in to the inevitable would have been surprised how easily he came to terms with his epiphany, but it was simple, really. Unlike the old codger, Severus's subconscious truly had his best interest at heart. It didn't inflict lemon drops on him, either.

So how to make Hermione want a child? Severus scratched his chin. By presenting a child that embodied all the good reasons to have children. So far Hermione did not want children, ergo the child could not be a Potter or Weasley. Merlin knew that minus the last day all that brood had ever inspired in Severus over the years was a deep gratitude that he would never ever need to set foot in a classroom again.

It had to be one child then, singular, not children, plural horribilis. Severus found a quill and a sheet of paper in one of the drawers and jotted down a list of desirous attributes.

Well-behaved, quiet, intelligent, old enough to display said intelligence but not old enough to talk back.

Severus hesitated, then added good-looking to the list. He didn't harbour any illusions about the chances of them producing a Gilderoy Lockhart look-alike between them, but in his experience only loving parents overlooked unattractiveness in their offspring. Probably because their own ugly features were staring back at them.

Now, how to find such a child?

For some unfathomable reason Britain's wizarding parents did not go out of their way to invite him to their spawn's birthday parties. That is, all save one family. Although Severus had already declined he had to admit the child in question met his requirements to a 'T'.

Now he only had to inform Hermione and hope that she let him live.