Disclaimer #1 – Not my characters.

Disclaimer #2 – AU, Dark Fic, Non con, Mpreg, angst,

The door to Severus' sickroom opened, and a tartan clad Minerva McGonagall stepped into the room. Her hair was barely restrained and she looked like a A Very Much Less Than Completely Chuffed Ancient Celt Warrior from Days of Yore. Her green eyes were fiery, and Severus looked for an escape route. It would do the Sprogling no good to be turned into a tadpole while he and Albus merrily ribbited and leap frogged around the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.

"It's THREE in the MORNING on SUNDAY, ALBUS," Minerva growled. "Can you not leave Severus alone? Must you constantly badger him? Is it necessary for me to hex you into behaving?"

Behind Minerva, Madam Pomfrey was cursing like a Curse Breaker who had a spell rebound.

"What is happening now?" Poppy's strident voice carried. "Severus is supposed to be resting, not entertaining! I will not have my Infirmary turned into a raree show."

"Nothing happened," Albus calmly assured the invading army of Amazons. For good measure, he even benevolently smiled at them. "Severus and I were having a conversation. There was no badgering or harassment involved."

Naturally, Minerva, having a lifetime's worth of experience of dealing with Albus, wasn't fooled at all by Albus' tranquil demeanor.

"Then what in name of Merlin's bloody scrote are you doing here at three in the morning?" Minerva snapped.

"Minerva, for shame. Such language from the mouth of one of our school's foremost instructors," Albus gently chastised her.

"One of the foremost? I've been damned by faint praise. There's barely a bloody dozen of us, Albus!"

"How many times have I spoken to you about your self esteem issue, Min?" Albus quipped. "Truly you are more talented than you give yourself credit!"

For that flippant remark, Minerva's eyes dangerously narrowed. Albus Dumbledore, having defeated a dark wizard or three in his long lifetime, was not cowed in the slightest by Minerva, Scottish Warrior Maiden. Severus, on the other hand, was still looking for escape route that wasn't blocked by one of the combatants.

"That's it! That's it!" Poppy then gestured dramatically with her wand before making a stabbing motion in Albus' direction. "Whenever you're here, Head Master, chaos occurs, shouting begins and my patient is usually in need of a Calming Draft by the time you're finished creating mischief. You've been banned from the infirmary, Head Master. You will find that there are some matters at Hogwarts in which my authority holds sway over yours."

"I've beenbanned?" Albus good-naturedly questioned. "What if I'm dying? What if I'm in need of medical care? Do I need to crawl to St. Mungo's?"

"You'll be given admittance to the Infirmary. If your mortal wound is self-inflicted, you'll find yourself at St. Mungo's in a trash bin." Poppy snapped, her cheerful nature at last exhausted by Albus' shenanigans. "Now,go!"

"Not so fast," Minerva ordered, not wanting Albus to leave the scene, until he made a full listing of his crimes. "I still want an explanation on why you're here!"

"Severus was having a nightmare; I thought it best that he woke before the dream concluded. Ask your assistant, Poppy, she'll confirm what I'm telling you. I asked if you were here. When I found that you were not here, I came because I thought it would be faster than explaining the situation to your assistant," Albus explained.

Damn the man, he was radiating sincerity, Minerva thought, though she noticed that the Slytherin obviously wished he was elsewhere.

"Severus, I believe that it is in your best interest to immediately remove Albus as the person responsible for making your medical decisions if you're incapable to do so," Poppy suggested. "He's too intimately involved with the current situation for me to feel comfortable with him making decisions for you."

Albus was quickly finding out why irritating Poppy was such a dangerous thing to do, and for a very brief moment, Minerva felt some compassion for Albus. Not a great deal, you understand, but from painful, first hand experience, she knew that the Head Master was striving to do the correct thing in this impossible situation.

"Agreed," Severus quickly answered. "I hereby verbally rescind my prior declaration that Albus Dumbledore has full rights to make my decisions if I am incapacitated. I request that Minerva McGonagall be allowed to make all decisions with regards to me or the child I am carrying if I am unable to do so."

"And done!" Poppy announced before Minerva had a chance to say yay, nay or even hey!

The serene look in the Head Master's blue eyes frightened Severus, as his composure meant the Head Master had successfully out maneuvered Poppy. The Head Master was smiling at him, shaking his head in weary, paternal disapproval as though Severus was once more a naughty student caught hexing James Potter. When the Head Master spoke, his voice was mild.

"Unfortunately, it's not as simple as that, Severus. Three people know that I fathered your child. Minerva, Poppy and Filius, which means that by law, I am the only one empowered to make decisions for the child if you are unable to do so. If for any reason, I, Albus Percival Wulferic Brian Dumbledore am deemed incapable of handling this responsibility, I hereby name Aberforth Kenneth Malcolm Abercrombie Dumbledore as guardian of the child."

There was a stunned moment of silence as everyone in the room took a minute to digest that tidbit.

'He just didn't do that', was the first of many panicked thoughts in the room. "ABERFORTH? Doesn't he have that odd goat fetish?"

"Anddone!" Albus' voice rang in the room, and then he beatifically smiled at Minerva. Albus was always charitable when he won an argument, as he felt it was bad form to gloat.

"Your brother?" Minerva softly questioned, praying to a half dozen goddesses that Albus was joking.

It appeared that Minerva was utterly gobsmacked that Albus would play the Aberforth card. Severus never thought the Dumbledore brothers were particularly close, considering that they were such polar opposites. The Head Master was a symbol of virtue, of all that was good and proper in the wizard world, noted for his courage and his intellect, while his brother was notorious for a tawdry incident regarding… a goat.

A GOAT!

Merlin's scrote, the sprogling will be raised by goats! She'll believe she's a goat kid! She'll be directly drinking from the tap of the Hog's Head by the time she's two!

"In spite of his somewhat dodgy appearance, Abeforth is exceptionally good with children, Minerva, so you need not fear that your godchild will be raised by goats. She may develop a fondness for goat milk though," Albus' voice was still calm, but Severus could hear the Head Master's growing annoyance that was focused towards the Slytherin. "Now, since I'm banished from the Infirmary, I will be leaving. Just a reminder, Poppy?"

"What now, Albus?" The Mediwitch was standing her ground and failing to realize that she was just further angering Albus.

"I may have no lawful right to know Severus' condition, but I am still legally entitled for information on the child. I expect it hourly on my desk, Madam Pompfrey," Albus announced in a don't-you-even-think-to-give-me-any-backtalk-and-expect-to-live-to-brag-about-it. Then his voice turned softer, but Severus could still feel the steel fist that was hidden by the velvet glove.

"Now, let me wish everyone a good night… or good morning, as the case may be. Severus, the offer to put our banns in the Daily Prophet…" Albus gently stated.

"What?" Minerva spat, obviously disbelieving what she had just heard. "Banns? You're talking BANNS?"

Like the waves of the sea crashing on the shore take no notice of the sand, Albus blithely continued to speak over Minerva's protestations.

"…And permanently bond you is still on the table. Naturally, Minerva is ensured an invitation to the ceremony as she's been so intimately involved with our relationship. Perhaps, you'd care to use her as Best Maid? While it's a break from tradition, I don't think we have ever defined our relationship as conventional. Once again, I extend my offer to blithely ignore whatever affairs you wish to conduct, as I doubt that you will ever be truly comfortable with pursuing a physical relationship with me."

To Severus' utter bewilderment, the Head Master leaned over and gently kissed him on his head. He tried not to shiver, but he couldn't help himself.

"I know you have reason to doubt my sincerity, but I do care about you, Severus. I always have," Dumbledore whispered.

Then in a louder tone, the Head Master continued speaking, "There will be more clothes arriving for you later that are more in line with your traditional garb. I thought you would be in need of a suitable dressing gown first. They've been modified for your specific needs, and they will fit you even until late September…. That reminds me, September, the start of a new school year… It will be difficult for Minerva to have our new Assistant Deputy Headmaster out on medical leave, but I'm sure that she's up to the challenge. We'll have to discuss the new position I had proposed to you, and what it will entail after you're released from the Infirmary."

Assistant Deputy Headmaster? I'm to be… Assistant Deputy Headmaster?

"Albus, you've had seventeen curtain calls and a dozen standing ovations, it's now time for you to exit stage right and bid all a graceful adieu," Minerva hissed.

Thankfully, Minerva's tart comment distracted Albus from giving voice to another soliloquy.

"Now, Severus, I must be going. Think on what I offered, and let me know your opinions. I would also appreciate if you could assure these… harridans… that I did in fact wake you from a nightmare."

Then with a blistering glare directed at both shrews, Hurricane Dumbledore swept from the room. Minerva quickly checked that Albus had left the infirmary, and then she sank into the chair closest to Severus' bed.

"Harridans? He called us harridans?" Poppy snapped. "Merlin help him that he doesn't show up in my Infirmary before I forgive that comment."

The total chaos and all around general insanity of his life was really becoming a bit too much for Severus, and his emotional control was getting a tad shaky.

"Can you leave, please?" Severus requested. One of the horrors of this experience was that now that he was magicless, he had to be polite. Before, he could snipe and snarl, mock and abuse, free from the fear of reprisal but now… now… he had to rely on the kindness of others.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen!

"Nightmares, Severus?" Minerva softly questioned. "How's your arm?"

"My arm doesn't hurt," he quickly admitted. That's all to which he'd willing confess.

"I can't give you anything to help you sleep for another four hours," Poppy explained. "Fetal toxicity. But you shouldn't have had any nightmares."

"The Head Master managed to wake me before it got too far," Severus slowly admitted. Yes, he had endured that particular nightmare often enough to be quite grateful that he missed the… climax of the grand finale.

Poppy then left the room, after procuring a sworn oath from him that he'd immediately notify her if he needed anything. The Mediwitch failed to notice that he had crossed his fingers.

"Let's tuck you in, Severus," Minerva decided. She took his messy covers and began straightening them. "Left arm in or out?"

"I'm not a first year, Minerva," he snapped. Next thing he would know, Minerva would be pushing Hot Chocolate on him. He shuddered at the very idea of Hot Chocolate, remembering all too well the nightmares that began with the Head Master consoling him with heavily laced Hot Chocolate.

"No, you're too tall for a first year," Minerva retorted. She pulled the heavy covers over him, and she again asked him about his left arm.

"Cover," he decided.

She did so, after she had carefully cast Bubble Cushioning charm around his stump.

"That way if you accidentally turn onto your side, it won't hurt," she explained. "I remember that you usually sleep on your left side."

The witch's considerate gesture touched him deeply, and Severus gave her a tremulous smile. His composure was slipping, and he savagely cursed himself for his weakness. He needed to regain his emotional equilibrium. He had to be strong; else the storm known as Albus would easily overwhelm him. Dwelling on what had happened to him would just weaken him.

Being strong meant that he needed to more assertive in any and all discussions regarding Severus Snape. Far too many people were making life changing decisions involving him and the sprog, and he should be allowed his input.

"Did you speak to Horace?" Severus questioned. His voice was rock steady and self-possessed, and it took every ounce of his strength to prevent his voice from shaking.

"Yes, and he quite wishes to help." Minerva assured him.

"Slughorn wants to either write a paper regarding my case or he wishes to have me in a position of owing him a favor," the Slytherin retorted. For good measure, he glared at Minerva. How could Minerva actually believe the best of Horace? He was Slytherin, after all. Merlin's beard, was Minerva getting soft?

"You find it hard to believe that our Horace could be magnanimous?" Minerva questioned. "I always found him to be the most giving of souls."

In bed, she refrained from adding, as that was Too Much Information for Severus.

"I actually find that impossible to believe," he dryly retorted. "I know him quite well, and he is Slytherin after all. Magnanimity is a Hufflepuff characteristic."

"He spoke with Poppy for some time last night, and he'll talk to you later today if you agree," Minerva stated.

"Do I have a choice? You're my guardian, and you're making my decisions for me," Severus retorted.

"I'masking you rather than demanding your blind obedience to my decrees," the witch reminded him. "You've given me control of your care, and I won't make the same mistake that Albus did. You were never one to let others make decisions involving you, Severus, and I'll remember that."

"Aberforth," Severus whispered, as he was getting drowsy thanks to some nonvocal spellcasting by Minerva. "You can't negate the Head Master naming Aberforth as guardian of the sprogling. That's so unfair for the poor child. Can you imagine what a horror her life will be? She'll have my nose, the Head Master's beard, and she'll only be able to bleat like a goat."

"But she'll know that she is loved," Minerva assured him. "I promise you that no matter what else happens to the wee bairn that I will love that poor little wild girl raised by goats. I'll shave her beard off, though I will ensure that she keeps your nose as it will remind me of you every time I see her blighted face. "

He knew that she was teasing him, and only because it was his Minerva, did Severus not make a suitably caustic comment. Plus, he was so tired… drifting…

"Merlin's bloody arse, Min, can you just imagine how the Head Master will dress the poor child? Spangles, beads and… the colors, Min. You'll make sure… that…. He doesn't make her wear… matching… frocks… They'll… pick… on…her…"

His eyes were closing, and his breathing was slowing, but Severus whispered, "Min? Stay?"

"Go to sleep, Severus, I'll stay and keep watch over you," Minerva agreed.

Within minutes, Severus was deeply asleep. Next to him, a silver tabby cat arched her back, and experimentally flicked her claws. After a suitable stretch that eased the various kinks in her back, the tabby carefully positioned herself on Severus' chest and began to loudly purr.

After a dreamless sleep, Severus woke with a sleeping cat on his chest. Carefully, he began to scratch her furry back, and he was rewarded with a soft questioning chirp as Minerva sleepily greeted him.

"No bad dreams," he assured her. Least he didn't remember any.

She butted his hand with her head, which Severus took to mean that she had a scratch behind her ear. The cat leaned into his fingers, as she stretched, and her purring grew louder.

"Poppy made a proper mess of things last night, Min," Severus informed her. "She didn't ban Fawkes. I'm sure the Head Master already has him spying."

The cat stopped in mid-stretch and then Minerva the cat leaped off his chest, Transforming back into Minerva the witch in mid-air.

"I realized that," Minerva admitted. "I was hoping you hadn't thought of it. But, on the positive side, more of Albus' presents have arrived. Why don't you get out of the dressing gown, wash up and try them on?"

She then reached over and rubbed his stubbly chin. "I'll shave you if you like," the witch offered. "I know you're partial shaving with a cutthroat blade, but I think your hand is a little too shaky."

Severus was only slightly winded, not terribly so, by the time he had washed and changed. Minerva had offered to use a cutthroat razor to give him a smooth shave and he agreed. He needed to keep his physical shaking under control, and if Min didn't manage to slit his jugulars because of an inopportune fit of trembling, he'd consider the experience a success. Steely eyed, stalwart Minerva soaped and then shaved him with a surprisingly practiced ease, and she was quite amused when he rubbed his face.

"No nicks," she assured him. "If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't use a cutthroat. Too messy."

The witch helped him to a chair, and he managed to sit rather than fall into it.

"Your strength is returning, which is a good sign." The witch said in a very positive tone.

He growled, which caused Minerva to laugh.

"And your good humor is returning also, which is wonderful, as I've missed my sweet Severus. On to more important issues then your sweet disposition, you had to admit that in spite of the fact that Albus is a right pain in the arse at time, he does have good taste in clothing," Minerva admitted.

"It's too much," Severus muttered as he stared at the literal mountain of clothes that had appeared.

A black fuzzy sweater, two frock coats, two pairs of trousers, three white silk shirts, a silk cravat that was charmed to tie itself around his neck, a dozen pants, a bespelled set of boots that would fasten themselves, and yet another pair of fuzzy socks. There was a note that said that there would be more forthcoming but that the rush order had been completed

Plus there was a whole satchel of books, rare books of the arcane that Severus knew were from Albus' personal library. There was a note in Albus' distinctive scrawl that Severus was to inform him when he was done reading, as he had still more books selected that he thought Severus would enjoy. He was itching to read them, devour them and memorize the knowledge contained within.

"Albus has been busy knitting," Minerva commented, as she looked at the charcoal grey sweater. "Another pair of socks? And in sensible colors, thank Merlin. That sweater might be his work also, though he probably changed the color of the wool and Transfigured it to fit you. He's Charmed it also, I see."

"The Head Master knits?" He incredulously asked. It was extremely bizarre to even consider the idea that one of the most powerful wizards in Europe knitted. Knitting was such a Molly Weasley thing to do.

"Yes, all those horrible socks and scarf sets he hands out every Christmas? He knits them in his spare time as he claims it relieves his stress. You do know about his fascination with knitting patterns? Every year for his birthday, I track down magazines full of knitting patterns. He's happier than a kid with a fistful of galleons in Honeydukes."

"I never knew," Severus slowly admitted. "I must admit that I never wore them."

"If he would just make them in sensible colors, I think some of the staff would actually wear them." Minerva admitted. "But he's always insists on these wild patterns, and these strange designs. I think the lions playing quidditch this time were really quite over the top, though they were quite lifelike. I'll have to wear them to the next Quidditch match, and make sure that he sees that I'm wearing them. He's thrilled whenever he knows we're wearing his socks."

The Head Master had kept the color scheme and the basic outfit that he preferred, thank Merlin, but the cut was different, finer and more sophisticated than the norm, and the fabric….Merlin's beard, Albus had spared no expense. Soft, silky fabrics, far too fine for an Instructor to wear, but Minerva had assured him that the Head Master had cast a Clothing Protection spell on his clothes so they were student proof.

He couldn't help but stare at his new clothes that were suitable garments for an Assistant Deputy Headmaster. He'd have respect then… No longer would he be the Greasy Git of the Dungeon, repeated rejected candidate for the DADA teaching position, and only given it this year because no sane candidate wanted the position. Even the insane ones had refused to consider the assignment this year.

Oh! If he had only remained in his dungeons!

But Daddy wouldn't have you, my little sprog.

"I can sense Filius' work," Minerva finally admitted. "Even though I know about your left arm, I can't really notice it. I have to deliberately concentrate and focus on your arm in order to see…."

"That my sleeve is empty," Severus firmly stated. He needed to face facts and stop mollycoddling himself.

To his surprise, Minerva put her hands on his shoulders, and she stared into his dark eyes, weighing and considering carefully what she was about to say.

"Sev, listen to me," she said in a very gentle voice. "You're still in shock. You're still fairly emotionally numb, so you're managing to walk and talk right now. You're functioning, Severus, not living. In time, when the numbness wears off, you might find yourself quite utterly besieged by what you're feeling. When the emotional damn breaks, I want you to contact me, no matter the time. It's better to talk to someone who has walked the walk, Severus."

"No…." he softly protested as Severus realized what Minerva meant. No! Not his Minerva who was so stalwart and resolute.

"Yes," she simply said. Her smile was sad, and she shook her head. "It happened years ago, Severus. It took time and a great deal of love, but I healed. So will you, my Slytherin. I promise you. What ever happens, remember you are a normal person, reacting normally to a horrific event. "

His mind was racing, and Minerva put her finger over his lips to prevent him from asking the question.

"Order business that went wrong. I managed to put the fear of Minerva McGonagall into many of them, but I was outnumbered. Albus… Albus blamed himself… and… I didn't blame him. I still don't blame him, as I accepted what the risks were… but Albus… he takes the wounds his followers suffer for the cause… personally."

"May I ask…" Severus paused, and then shook his head. "Never mind."

"It was before Albus and I were lovers. He was my first lover after what happened, but it was quite a few years," Minerva's voice was rock steady, but Severus could see the pain in her eyes. "Albus is from a different generation than the two of us. He's rather reserved when it comes to sex, and he's only taken a few lovers in his life. I wanted… I craved… reassurance that someone could find me sexually desirable after what happened. I fell hard for him, and I relentlessly propositioned him... until he rather bashfully agreed. Albus wanted everything to be special for me, and he nearly swept me off my feet in his desire to assure me. He was good for me... but when I healed... I realized that our relationship wasn't enough for me."

"Does he often clothe the less fortunate of Order members who have been harmed and injured for the cause?" Severus softly questioned. "Does he lend out his books to all the injured?"

His voice trembled when he asked the last question.

"Did… he offer… to post your Banns in the Daily Prophet?"

Damn it, damn it, you damn fool, you had wanted to pretend that he might actually care about you and the sprogling. It's just his guilt.

"I know you love him, Severus. I just wanted to remind you, Severus that you're injured, and our Albus can be irresistible. Even for war weary, hardened souls like you and me, love. Severus, please think clearly on any decisions before you make them."

"I can't bear to have him touch me," Severus whispered. "If he gets too close to me…but Minerva, I want…."

"I understand," she whispered. "I do. Now let's have a spot of breakfast, shall we? Then I'll Floo Horace and find out if he's free. He's decided he knows the perfect cure-all for you."

"It's a class six potion," Severus tiredly protested. "I can't have it as it will cause a miscarriage."

"No, Severus. He told Poppy that he plans on having you brew. Now, considering my expertise are in the Transfiguration area, I fail to understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses, but Horace believes that a little brewing will cure what ails you."

Severus' right hand itched, as he ignored the old jest about potions. To hold a silver knife once more? To prove to himself that he was capable of more than just lying in bed, bemoaning his fate?

Yes, that would be wonderful.