March 1994
Snapes' family home
Severus woke up and stretched, feeling the expected weight of his wife's head on his chest.
He looked down at the gorgeous witch asleep on top of him, naked, her long hair sprawled over his stomach and her back.
The room was lit by the weak sunlight that entered through the snow-dusted window. He checked the time and relaxed, he still had two hours before his first class that Friday morning, he could enjoy the peacefulness and warmth of his bed and his wife a little longer.
Florence stirred against him and opened her beautiful emerald-green eyes to look at him.
"Morning, Sev," she said, adding: "Menta spiritus," before kissing him lovingly.
Severus held her close as they kissed in a dance of tongues that had them both swooning in lazy pleasure.
"Good morning, princess," he caressed down her body, "Are you going to the castle today?"
"No. I'll spend the day with Chris. He's so upset that none of his siblings are home."
"Hmm... we should work harder on making him a new sibling then," he kissed her lips again, getting on top of her, between her legs.
Florence chuckled, "If we work any harder, we'll be fucking 24/7."
"What will you do today?" he kissed down her neck, making her sigh.
"I'll take Chris for lunch at Diagon Alley; we'll meet your mother there."
"Good. I promised him he could have a new broom."
She looked at him with feigned surprise, "Don't say? You promised him an expensive gift? I'm utterly surprised."
"Stop it, wife," he slapped her arsecheek playfully.
"Hmm, if you do that again you'll end up getting late to class, professor."
"If I do what? This?" he slapped her arse again.
"Yes, more," Florence gasped.
And he did it, before touching a hand to her face, making her part her lips and thrusting his tongue into her mouth to meet hers passionately.
Florence had both hands in his hair, kissing him back as lustfully as he was kissing her; she wrapped her legs around his waist, her feet behind his arse, pulling him closer.
"Do you want something, princess?" he asked seductively.
"Yes. Fuck me."
He smirked and obeyed his wife.
After Severus had left, Florence got up, showered and dressed before going to their son's bedroom.
Christopher was still sleeping, so she just sat on his bed and looked at him for a while.
He was the first, and so far only, of their children to not have black hair; he had Florence's green eyes, her brown hair, and a sweet disposition that would make it impossible for anyone to guess he was truly the son of the anti-social Potions Master.
Chris was his mother's little male version – which made him look unnervingly a lot like his grandfather.
She touched his soft hair and sighed; the fear of her father's return was a recurring thought in her mind. She feared for her husband, for their kids, for the future of the wizarding world.
Florence had no way of knowing how her father would react when he learned about his grandkids – and she actually wondered if it wouldn't be better to just hide them and tell him they didn't exist.
She was nearly certain he'd take one look at Elizabeth's powers and beauty, the twins' magical abilities and intelligence and at Christopher – whose magic was already so balanced even at such a young age – and he'd want to train them, to use them to further his plans.
She shook her head, trying to lay those thoughts to rest; her children were safe for now – in their schools and at home. They were all loved and had their hearts in the right place.
Florence sighed and leaned forward, kissing Chris' cheek, slowly waking up the boy.
The way he stirred and grunted before opening his eyes made her smile – he could look a lot physically like his grandfather, but the way he moved, walked and talked were exactly like his father's.
"Good morning, mummy," he said, smiling sleepily.
"Morning, love," she hugged him, "Let's get up and go downstairs to have breakfast. Soon we'll leave to meet your grandma at Diagon Alley, remember?"
The boy looked suddenly very awaken: "Yes! And will you give me a broom, mum? A Firebolt, like you sent Harry for Christmas?" the boy's green eyes sparkled in excitement, "Daddy said I could have one."
"Yes. I know your dad promised you that. You can have a new broom, baby; just maybe not a Firebolt - those are too fast."
"I'm not a baby, I can fly fast," Christopher complained, his frowny expression just like James's.
Florence chuckled and kissed his forehead, "You'll always be my baby, my love."
After Chris had changed his pyjamas for outside clothes, they walked downstairs and sat at the table to have breakfast.
The sight of that big empty table filled Florence with sadness – she missed her children and her husband. She should have gotten used to the empty house already, but she hadn't. She wished she could have the crazy messy days back: when James, Nick and Liz were all under ten and at home, running, playing, arguing; and the living room was in constant disarray.
Florence was so focused on her memories that she didn't hear the doorbell ring.
Tiffany's voice brought her back to reality: "Mistress Florence? Mr Lupin is at the door."
"Oh, sure. Let him in," she said, getting up to welcome her friend.
Remus walked into the house and Florence hugged him, knowing right away something wasn't right.
"Hey, Moony. What's wrong?"
"Can we talk in the library?" he asked, waving at Christopher who had shouted: "Uncle Remus!" with his mouth full of cake.
"Sure we can. Mel, help Chris finish his breakfast. He can watch cartoons afterwards," she told her house-elf before taking her friend to the library.
"So... how are the Patronus classes with Harry going?"
"Great," Remus smiled, "He's already got a corporeal one once. It's a stag, just like his father's."
"That's so sweet," she smiled back, "I'm glad he's learning."
Remus removed a large piece of parchment from his pocket and suddenly wasn't smiling anymore, "Flor, I want you to take a look at this," he went to one of the tables in the library and unfolded the parchment.
"Is that... the Marauders' Map?" she said, surprised, recognising it, "You found it?"
"Yes. Severus caught Harry with this, but he doesn't know how to use it, and the map actually insulted him when he tried to read it," he chuckled at the memory, "So he gave it to me. Take a look at it yourself."
She frowned at his request, "Can you at least tell me who am I looking for? Is it Sirius?"
He shook his head and pointed somewhere in the map; she looked more closely at the area he had pointed.
"What?" she gasped, "Could this be true? Is the map broken? Lying?"
"No. The map never lies. Peter Pettigrew is alive, and in Hogwarts."
She gasped: "'He's at Hogwarts'. Those were Sirius's words while in Azkaban!" she looked at the map again and frowned, "But how could Sirius, locked up in Azkaban, learn about Pettigrew being alive when we didn't know?"
"I wondered about that myself, Flor. Sirius couldn't have visitors in Azkaban – we both know that for we tried many times to go there to see him. So the only way he could learn anything about the outside world was through newspapers. Kingsley told me the aurors usually gave Sirius the Prophet and the Quibbler and were very surprised to see that he could still read after all these years locked up."
"But if any news about Pettigrew had been published in the newspaper, we would have known about it! Severus reads those everyday!"
"That's what I think too. But what if we let something pass? Sirius began murmuring 'He's in Hogwarts' about a month before he escaped."
"I believe I still have those newspapers. I keep them shrunk in storage to send to be recycled," she looked once more at the map and turned around, going to the garage.
Remus and Florence looked through the old newspapers for a while, using magic to filter them down to only those who mentioned Hogwarts – which were most of them.
Only the rustling sound of newspapers pages being turned filled the garage for a while, along with the sounds of "Engorgio" and "Diminuendo" being murmured.
Until Florence gasped: "Remus! I found it."
And he ran to her side, looking at the pictures she was showing him on the paper.
"'Grand Prize winner visits Egypt'," Remus read the headline from the Local News section, looking at the picture attentively, "Holy fuck! Ronald Weasley's old pet rat – that's Peter!" he exclaimed, surprised.
Florence looked at him concerned, "He's been sleeping in Harry's dormitory for the past three years! He could have killed Harry countless times! That's why Sirius got desperate when he saw this article. Listen: 'The Weasley's younger son, Ronald, who's about to start his third-year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is best friends with none other than Harry Potter.'"
"That's how he knew Peter was in Hogwarts! He's actually trying to protect Harry! I'll strangle Sirius once we find him again!" growled Remus, "Why didn't he tell me?"
Florence sighed, folding the newspaper and handing it to him, "I'm just relieved Sirius's not crazy and trying to kill Harry."
"Yes. But he could've told Severus and I that day! We would've helped him!"
She shook her head, "We both know Sirius doesn't like Severus – it's not surprising he didn't say anything. He may have also feared you two would tell Dumbledore and he wouldn't let him kill Pettigrew," she finished shrinking the other newspapers and looked at the one in Remus's hands with anger, "We must kill Pettigrew, Moony. He deserves to die! Every breath he takes is an offense to James and Lily's memory!"
"I wholeheartedly agree, Flor. I'll talk to Severus to come up with a plan to get him."
They quickly came up with a plan to capture and kill Pettigrew within twenty-four hours – but the rat vanished.
According to Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger's cat killed it.
May 1994
Hogwarts
One evening, Florence was walking down the Marble staircase to go to the dungeons, when she saw Draco and two of his friends running into the Entrance Hall.
"Hey, what happened? Is there a basilisk chasing you?" she asked, frowning.
"No, Ma'am. We were minding our own business when Granger assaulted Draco!" said Blaise Zabini, outraged.
"Oh, did she now?" she asked, knowing that story certainly wasn't as black and white as he was telling it, "Come, Mr Malfoy. Let's go to the infirmary to check that nose," Florence looked at Zabini and Goyle, "You two, move on, and stay away from dangerous Gryffindor girls."
The boys looked at her with anger, but she arched an eyebrow and calmly said: "I can't dock points, but I know someone who can. He is also known to assign the worst detentions."
At that veiled threat, the two Slytherins scurried down to the dungeons.
Florence smiled at Draco and motioned him to follow her, which he did, silently.
"Sit on that bed," she ordered as they walked into the hospital wing.
He obeyed and she passed her wand over his face.
"There's no trace of any spells on you, Draco. How did Hermione break your nose?"
"She punched me, like a barbarian!"
"And why did she do that?"
He hesitated, knowing the mediwitch wouldn't like to hear what he was about to say: "I was celebrating Buckbeak's death sentence."
"Ah. There it is. It was a well-deserved punch, then. If I could grant points, Gryffindor would be getting twenty."
He scowled: "That filthy mu..."
"Stop right there!" Florence barked and the boy quieted down immediately, looking at her with fear in his blue eyes, "Do not use that word anymore, Draco. That's your father talking – not you!"
He fell silent and she examined his nose, suddenly casting: "Episkey."
And the boy shouted in pain, putting both hands on his face, feeling that his nose had gone back to its normal size and shape.
"I'll tell my father about this," he growled, "Granger will be expelled!"
Florence sighed and looked at him: "Stop using your father as a shield, Draco. It's not you he's protecting, but his family name."
The boy looked at her with a frown and Florence couldn't avoid noticing how he suddenly had the same troubled eyes he'd had when he was six.
"I know," he finally whispered, "But it's all I have, Ma'am."
"Is it? Really?" she paused with a reproachful gaze, "I told you a while ago to choose your friends and enemies wisely. You haven't listened to me."
"I can't be friends with certain people. I do what I have to do," he kept a low tone of voice.
"Don't we all, dear?" Florence gave him a wet wipe to clean up the blood from his face, "Listen: Slytherins are known for being ambitious, resourceful and determined. Despite what others say, we are not murderers and we do not celebrate the killing of innocent beings."
Draco seemed to hesitate again and then he whispered: "I've never wanted for Buckbeak to be sentenced to death. I just..." he failed to find the words to explain his feelings.
"You were jealous Harry rode the hippogriff and you didn't. Then you ignored Hagrid's warnings, got hurt and called your dad, who – as usual – made matters worse."
"Yes," he nodded, whispering as if he were telling her a secret: "Hippogriffs are my favourite animals."
"I know," she smiled, "Do you still have the stuffed one Severus gave you?"
He looked surprised that she knew that, "Yes. He gave me that for my fourth birthday, nine years ago. How do you know?"
"Severus and I go way back, Draco," she replied, winking at him.
He nodded again, "Father tried to burn it. But mother didn't let him."
"I'm sorry to hear that he tried to do such a horrible thing to a toy you love," Florence sighed, "I pity your mother, Cissy was a dear friend of mine and..."
Draco shook his head and interrupted her: "Don't pity her, Ma'am. She's allowed father to do a lot of things. She may not agree to what he does, but she's never stopped him from hitting me."
She looked at him with concern and slowly pulled him into a hug. The boy tensed for a second but hugged her back after a while, silently crying against her shoulder. She just held him until he stopped crying and raised his head.
Then she looked at his tear-stained face, "Stay the night in the infirmary, Draco, you don't want to go to the Slytherin common room looking like you've been crying after Granger hit you."
He just nodded and lay down on the bed.
She gave him a Calming Draught and he fell asleep within minutes – the emotional toll of talking about his father had visibly exhausted him.
