HIS OWN MAN

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein.

Thanks to my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste and Cecelle.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, then huffed out a long, helpless breath. Had Molly forgotten that Percy had refused to speak to anyone in his family for almost three years before his apparent death? Who did she think had faked his death, if not himself? On the other hand, that was all so long ago that it was no wonder Molly hadn't thought yet to question it. The fact of his supposedly accidental death was too firmly entrenched in her mind as the foundation on which subsequent events rested. Breaking things gently had just become harder.

While these thoughts raced through her mind, Ginny jumped in.

"He does remember. And he's just as unwilling to be part of our family as he was twenty years ago."

"Ginny, you're not helping," Hermione said.

Molly was looking at Ginny.

"What do you mean? When did he remember?"

"He never forgot." Ginny's hands were clenched and her mouth thin. "He's been hiding from us for the last twenty years. From everyone! Except for the Snapes; they knew."

"The Snapes? What – Are you – Those pictures!" Molly turned on Hermione, eyes blazing. "How long have you known he was alive?"

Hermione took a deep breath and gazed back, tight-lipped and straight-backed.

"About six years. We met by chance in a schoolyard, both picking up our kids from the same beginners' class."

"Hermione Jane Snape! You deceitful viper! How dare you sit here and tell me you've been keeping my son from me for six years!"

"I haven't been keeping him away from anyone. If he'd wanted to see you, he knew where you were." Hermione's hands clasped each other under the table.

"Of course he'd have wanted to see us!" Molly exclaimed. "That silly little quarrel couldn't still be bothering him after all this time. Why didn't you tell him that of course we forgive him?"

Hermione bit her lip. No way was she going to answer that he thought any forgiveness would have to flow in the other direction.

"That quarrel was just the last straw. He'd been unhappy for a long time by then," she said.

"He had nothing to be unhappy about, living at home, everything laid out for him, meals cooked, clothes washed – everything he ever wanted!"

Hermione shook her head.

"All he wanted was a family that appreciated him."

"He had that," the older woman said.

"He had a father who accused him of spying, older brothers who never asked him why he'd left or what would bring him back, and younger siblings who were glad to see him go."

"We weren't glad!" Ginny said. "We just – weren't very surprised that he'd chosen career over us. We knew he would."

Under the table, Hermione's fingers dug into her palm.

"Do you think he didn't know you thought that? Of course he did; he couldn't help but know. You all made it very clear that you thought he was a jerk. But he'd never expected his parents to think it too."

Molly whirled on her, hands going to hips and eyes narrowing to slits.

"And just what is that supposed to mean, Hermione? That we had no right to be concerned when he was about to make a big mistake?"

'Concerned,' Hermione thought wryly. 'For his safety or yours?'

"I think it's better if you talk it over with him yourself. All I can tell you is that he begged me not to tell anyone I'd seen him and I couldn't refuse," she said aloud.

Molly glared.

"You must have brainwashed him somehow. You and that husband of yours."

"You leave Severus out of it."

"What am I supposed to think when you tell me that my own son is better friends with you than with his own family?"

"Maybe that we've been better friends to him than his own family!" Hermione snapped. She took a long, calming breath and continued in a softer tone. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't lose my temper; I know you've had a shock. I'm just sick of hearing Severus be blamed for everything I do that your family doesn't like. If you want to blame anyone, blame me."

There was a short, glaring silence. Hermione passed a hand across her forehead as if to wipe away the frown-lines. She folded and unfolded her lips.

"Anyhow, that's how it is. Percy says he's willing to talk to you if you want. But you have to understand that he feels he was the one who was pushed away, not the other way round, and he'd rather close off that part of his life entirely than go through that again."

"Of course I want to talk to him," Molly said. "Where is he? Can we go now?"

"I'll ring and ask in a little while. We need to give him a bit more chance to talk to his own children about it because Alison was there when it all came out and she had a lot of questions."

"Alison." Molly tasted the name wonderingly. "You said something about sisters? How many are there?"

"Ten, all girls, and most of them look like his wife, Amanda. Only all her friends call her Manda; it's been her nickname since she was little, apparently." Hermione reopened the photo album and thumbed through to a picture of Percy and Manda together. It had been taken at the park on a blustery day. Thick dark waves blew and tangled with windswept red curls. Ginny leaned across to look and Hermione pushed it a little closer.

"They look very happy." Molly knuckled one eye and half-smiled. "Ten girls?"

"Two sets of twins. And no Squibs, so far as we can tell. Alison's the oldest. She's in first year with Cammie. Then Amalie and Adelaide turned eleven last month." She turned the page to a studio portrait of two giggling, freckled redheads. "They look more and more like Ron, the older they get. Anthea – Thea – is ten." The next page showed a skinny, solemn-faced child in long plaits, holding one end of a jump-rope. On the facing page, two plump dark girls bent curly mops over the picture they were colouring together. "Abigail's next, then Aglaia. Aggie. She must be, let me think, oh, about seven and a half. Because Amy-Rose turned six on New Year's Day."

She turned another page. Ginny stared at the dog-eared photo of a flame-haired moppet with a crooked smile and grubby hands. The facing page showed the same child, freshly scrubbed and scowling.

"She looks like Bill, doesn't she, Mum? In that picture Gramps took at Blackpool."

"Goodness, I'd no idea you'd ever seen that picture. What makes you remember it?"

"Fleur went gaga over it that first time she came, don't you remember? 'Oh, leetle Beel, 'ow sweet!'" she mimicked.

"She's a lot more like the twins," Hermione said ruefully. "Always in mischief. Adam's at his wit's end with her sometimes."

Molly's head whipped round to her.

"Adam?"

"Percy," Hermione explained. "I told you, that's what he calls himself now."

Molly snorted.

"Percy was a perfectly fine name!"

Unseen by her mother, Ginny made a face.

"He said he chose it because at last he could be his own man," Hermione said. "You'll just have to get used to it, I suppose."

"Is that the lot then?" Molly turned back to the album. She turned another page. Three cheerful curly-topped faces smiled up at her with very white teeth. "There's more."

"Those are the last. Alfrida started school this year, so she must be five, and Arielle and Aislynn will be four in August."

"Ten more grandchildren." Molly didn't know whether to smile or cry. "Ten grandchildren I've never met. How will I ever remember them all?"

"Keep the album. It's meant for you anyway." Hermione closed it to show Molly what was printed on the cover. Granny's Brag Book. "If you can't remember the names, you can pull the photos out to check, because they're all labelled on the back."

Molly's hands closed around the book. Blinking back tears, she opened it again to the picture of Percy and his oldest child.

"'Granny's Brag Book?'" she said bitterly. "How am I supposed to brag about children that grew up without me? That my own son kept away from me all these years? Oh, Percy, Percy, how could you?"

Ginny's arm slid around her mother's shoulder, but her eyes also were fixed on the book.

"I've been seeing that girl every day – sometimes twice - all year," she grumbled, thinking of mealtimes in the Great Hall, "and I never knew she was my niece!" She shot Hermione an accusing glare. "And you sat next to me almost every time and never once told me there was a reason I should give her more than a second glance! How could you?"

Hermione bit her lip and stared at her fingertips. The nails were ragged. They hadn't looked this bad in years. She really needed to stop biting them.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'd have told you if I could."

"All those years stolen from us and we can never get them back," Molly quavered. "I'll never see them take their first steps, I never heard their first words or rocked them to bed when they were babies." She sniffed. "I've never held them in my arms or shared a secret or kissed their ouches better. They could pass me on the street and not know me."

"I know her by sight and I don't know her at all," Ginny muttered. "All this time."

"We can never get it back. It's too late now. All those years. All those memories. I never thought he could be so cruel."

"He didn't mean to be cruel." Hermione spoke through a thick, heavy lump of regret. "He was desperately unhappy."

"That's the cruellest of all," Molly whispered. "That my own child was made unhappy by my presence. That he felt he needed to get away from me. What am I, a dragon?"

There didn't seem to be anything to say. Hermione broke the silence by pulling out her mobile phone.

"Adam, hi. Listen, I'm at your mum's. She wants to see you tonight. Is that all right?"

"We're running a bit late. Haven't had dinner yet –"

Molly glanced at the phone and gasped. There was a bright rectangle of colour, with her son's face on it, his lips moving as he talked. It was like a wizarding photo, only better, because she could hear him. She grabbed it from Hermione's hand.

"Percy? Percy, are you there?"

"There is no Percy. I'm Adam." He sounded tired and cross.

"Don't give me that, Percy Ignatius Weasley," Molly said tartly, tears forgotten. "For 41 years, you've been Percy to me and there hasn't been a day in all that time that I didn't think of you."

Percy's face crumpled.

"Oh, Mum, I – I can't –"

The picture showed rapid movement then a square-chinned female face, framed by thick, dark waves, came into view and flashed a friendly smile.

"Hello? This is Manda. Are you my mother-in-law?"

"Oh, can you see me?" Molly had never shared her husband's fascination with Muggle technology. Floo-talking had been good enough for her mother and grandmother and it was good enough for her, she'd always told her children whenever they waxed lyrical over the joys of fellytones. "Yes, I suppose so. If you're Percy's wife, then I suppose I must be. And this is Ginny beside me, Percy's sister. We'd like to come over and see him, if that's all right." Or even if it isn't.

The face looked away, then looked back, still smiling.

"You can come, but we'll have to take a rain-check on Ginny, sorry," it said briskly. "Come for dinner. Hermione knows where we live."

"Rain-check? What does that mean?" Molly muttered to Hermione.

"She means later," Hermione explained.

"That's right. Ginny, I'd love to meet you, but not today, OK? Adam's feeling a bit overwhelmed, he can't cope with two of you tonight."

'Tomorrow?" Ginny suggested.

"I'll have to get back to you on that. See how it goes with your mum first, OK? Soon."

Ginny found herself nodding obediently back. She didn't wonder at herself till afterwards.

"He's all right, isn't he?" Molly fretted.

"Don't worry, just come over as quick as you can. He'll be right as rain once he's got it over with. Poor dear does tend to work himself into a state, but you'd know that, right? You know how he is."

Molly turned her face away and shook her head. Had she ever known who he was? And if not then, when he'd been living with her, how could she possibly know what he was now?

Five minutes later, Alison flung the door wide to their knock, five or six younger sisters clustered around her.

"Aunt Hermione, hi. And Mrs Weasley – I mean – um, should I call you gran?"

For answer, Molly hugged her and was almost immediately engulfed by granddaughters shouting questions.

"Are you really our gran?"

"Dad says you have a ghoul in the attic!"

And he misses your cauldron cakes the most."

"Don't be silly." Alison shot Aggie a very superior glare, before turning back to her grandmother. "Of course, it's you he misses the most."

Molly wiped her eyes and hugged her again.

In the midst of the chaos, Manda appeared at the end of the hall, unruffled and efficient. She came swiftly forward and shook Molly's hand. Molly looked at their joined hands, then up at Manda's smiling face, and forced an answering smile on lips that felt suddenly tight. Who was this confident Muggle woman, so different from most of her other deferential daughters-in-law? Only Fleur had been as unconcerned with winning her approval, but this no-nonsense, straight-browed person was nothing like Fleur.

"Come in, do," Manda said, waving her through. "Adam's just in the living-room. He'd have come to the door, but he's got the little twins in his lap and they refused to budge. Hermione, you're welcome to join us, but don't feel you have to. I can manage from here, if you'd rather not."

"Much rather, thanks, Manda," Hermione replied, ruthlessly rubbing the ache out of her forehead. That was enough angst and drama for one day. No doubt she'd hear all about it, tomorrow or the day after, from both sides without even asking. "I see you told them already."

Her friend let out a long, exasperated breath.

"As soon as we got back from the hospital," she said grimly, her eyes resting on Amy-Rose's arm bound in fluorescent green tape over plaster until it rounded the corner with the rest of her grandmother's noisy retinue.

Hermione followed her gaze and ruefully shook her head.

"Oh dear," she sympathised.

"That's why we're running late tonight," Manda said. "Amy-Rose and explanations. Have you fed yours yet or is that what you're rushing home for?"

"I sent them to Hogwarts after Severus. That means I get to go home and rest over a cup of tea and a Chelsea bun." Not a very healthy dinner, but about the only thing that could tempt her appetite at the moment. "I hope they won't hurry home."

Their eyes met.

"We'll talk tomorrow then. I'd better go rescue Adam. She looks fearsome." Her voice lowered, but her eyes held a twinkle.

"Only to her nearest and dearest, usually."

Manda rolled her dark eyes.

"Wonderful."

In the event, it was Cammie who shared the first news of the meeting, after a half-hour pre-breakfast call, the next morning, that only ended when her father ordered her off the phone.

"I'll ring you later," she said, rolling her eyes.

"You will not."

"Da-ad!"

"Sit down and eat that brightly-coloured mess you call cereal." In the communal life of a boarding school Deputy Head, breakfast was the one meal he hadn't been required to preside over in the Great Hall. Consequently, it had become enshrined as family time. No interruptions, no distractions. But that didn't mean they couldn't discuss non-family matters.

"So tell us! What happened last night?" Callie leaned forward over her three slices of toast, one buttered, one marmaladed and one plain. She'd heard enough of Cammie's side of the conversation to know that something had, apart from the explanation her dad had promised Alison.

"Mum took Gran Weasley there and she stayed for dinner. Mrs Weasley, I mean. Aunt Manda's bolognaise, yum! Why don't you ever make it, Mum?"

"Your dad doesn't eat cinnamon."

"But you can hardly taste it!" Cammie grumbled, without much hope. Dad could, of course; one of the disadvantages to having a dad who was both a Potioneer and a finicky eater.

"Obviously, you can, or you wouldn't notice that I leave it out," her mum said.

"Never mind that," Callie said impatiently. She layered her toasts and cut them into four slices. "Get to the juicy bits. Did they have a fight?"

"Only a little one before dinner. Mrs Weasley kept calling Uncle Adam 'Percy' and he got scowlier and scowlier –"

"That's not a word," her mum said automatically.

"Yeah, I know, but –"

"Listen to your mother."

"Okay, okay, Dad." She lowered her voice to a confidential whisper to forestall any further interruptions. Her parents continued eating as calmly as if they weren't secretly listening. "Anyhow, the little twins wouldn't get off him 'cos they were a bit sleepy, so he couldn't walk out, and the big twins couldn't take them 'cos they were setting the table, and Alison and Thea were in the kitchen –"

"Then how did she know what he looked like?" whispered Callie, watching her dad out the side of her eye. He took a tiny dab of butter and scraped it across his toast with fierce concentration.

"They told her after, of course. Anyhow, then all of a sudden their dad just started yelling that he hated Percy too, just as much as they did, and that's why he killed him off, and then the little twins started wailing and –"

"That's what you call a little fight?" demanded Hermione, forgetting to pretend. Severus just smirked.

Cammie raised her eyebrows at her mum and said in a patronising tone, "Well, yeah, 'cos then Aunt Manda came in and stopped it, of course."

"Of course," echoed Callie.

"She invited Mrs Weasley into the kitchen to taste-test if the food was ready and she took Uncle Adam off upstairs to put the little twins to bed."

Hermione silently admired Manda's tact and presence of mind. There was nothing more likely to pacify her newly-discovered mother-in-law than to cede her control of the kitchen and family hearth.

"And by the time he came down again, he was even smiling!" Cammie said triumphantly. Then her lips twitched. "At least, he was until Amy-Rose asked who he killed and why."

Her parents exchanged glances and silently shook their heads. It was Callie's turn to smirk.

"Did he tell her?" She cocked her head to the left. "Or did he just say, 'Ask your mother'?"

That earned her a long look from her father.

"Is this conversation intended for our ears, Calendula?" he asked, with menacing politeness.

His older daughter winced. She hated her full name, though at least it wasn't Camomile, like her sister. And no, she didn't think it was romantic for them to be named after two of the chief ingredients of the potion that had brought her parents back together when they were courting, ew! She'd told her mum that many times, but Mum just laughed and told her to be glad her name wasn't Aconite.

"If so, I shall have to take notice of impertinence," he continued. "I've a vat of horned toads needing disembowelling. They should have stopped wriggling by now."

"Da-ad! You can't give us a school punishment for something we do at home! You promised! Anyway, no, it wasn't. It was private."

He returned to his toast.

"Then I suggest you conduct it with a little more discretion."

Three pairs of brown eyes stared at him reproachfully, but he didn't seem to notice. The girls gobbled their breakfasts hastily.

"May I be excused?"

"Me too?"

Hermione waved them away. After the door closed behind them, she turned to Severus, pushing her chair closer, then stopping to cast a Muffliato. The girls were probably too busy chattering to eavesdrop, but with Callie it was always better to be safe than sorry.

"You didn't wake me last night," she grumbled.

He gave her that half-eyebrow-raise that meant affectionate amusement.

"Couldn't. Was it completely unbearable?"

She glared at him.

"I had to tell Molly myself, while Ginny said everything she could think of to make it worse. What do you think?" she snapped.

"You're still better off than I am. Minerva has decreed that I have to attend your clever little idea of a family meeting with all the Weasley students in two days time." He yawned. "I have to mediate in three sibling meetings tonight, with my wand at the ready just in case." He rubbed just above his eyebrows. His tolerance for Weasleys had already been exhausted yesterday. "And I was up half the night with Adam, so I know you got away sooner than I will and I've already heard about how well his meeting with Molly went."

She gave him a doubtful, measuring glance.

"Completely unbearable?"

He tucked in his chin and gave her a knowing upward glance.

"What do you think?"

"I think it must have got worse after that first clash or you wouldn't have stopped the girls talking about it at table."

He shrugged.

"They made it through dinner safely. The cataclysms came later."

Hermione grimaced.

"Do I want to know?"

Severus smirked teasingly.

"Do you?"

She tangled her hand in his hair and gave a short admonitory tug.

"Disagreeable man."

She'd called him that the day he proposed, seventeen years ago. He reached up to take her hand in his and let his forehead rest on hers.

"Aggravating, irritating, little wretch," he retorted appropriately. "But I'm inclined to think you were wrong about our children." She'd predicted their children would be the horridest in the history of the universe. No such thing. "At least they're not a Weasley brood."

A/N Cinnamon in the bolognaise sauce? Absolutely. Plus the herbs and spices you already knew about, pepper, garlic, basil, bay and oregano. Veal mince is nicer than beef to my taste, and a tsp of vinegar doesn't hurt either.

Canon doesn't specify what goes into the Wolfsbane Potion, but both Calendula and Camomile have qualities that would assist with healing, calming, sedating or reducing muscle spasms, fever, inflammation and other ills, so I decided they were likely candidates for reducing the after-effects of the transformation. And they're both flowering plants too, which makes them suitable for female names ;-))