Chapter 18 – Part 4

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Draco had not expected a visit from Arthur Weasley. If he had, he reasoned, he might have tried not to sit in his room and drink so much that night, he may have even bothered to dress up a little – a very little. It was not so much that he was impressed by the man; he certainly wasn't, it was just that he didn't relish the idea of seeing his father's childhood enemy seeing him looking like a dirty drunk. The call to the Headmaster's office had been unexpected however, and it was late. He could imagine that most students in the castle were well and truly asleep, and only those unfortunate enough to have OWLS or NEWTS approaching were burning the midnight oil in an attempt to learn just that little bit more before exams.

Draco had been studying, but he had also been drinking – and he was covered in cat hair. Not the best impression to make.

"Mr. Weasley," he nodded, deciding that it was probably a good thing to be as respectful as possible. He didn't know what he was here for and it wouldn't do to start insulting him...yet.

"Draco," Arthur nodded in return, "please, sit down."

Draco scowled a little at the abruptness, but Weasley had on his political voice and curiosity flared inside Draco. He sat himself in the proffered chair and gave the older man a questioning look.

"I have something to talk to you about." Arthur changed his tone a little, made it more fatherly, as though he was talking to one of his own children. It was a sign that he saw Draco as being reasonable, an impression he'd gotten after talking to Molly about him. "Actually, it is a few things," he smiled at Draco's quizzical look and explained further, "I think we can help each other."

Draco straightened himself up in his chair and wished he had not had so much to drink. His mouth felt dry and he was suddenly tired, as though he could just nod off to sleep. He blinked a few times to wake himself up. "Alright, how can we help each other?"

Arthur leaned against the Headmaster's desk and Draco wondered just where Dumbledore was. "Well," Arthur started in a friendly way, "firstly I'd like to discuss Pansy Parkinson with you."

"Pansy?" Draco asked confused, "What about Pansy? Is something wrong?"

"No, no she's fine. My son Ron has asked my wife and I to take her in so that she can leave St Mungo's."

Draco couldn't help but look impressed. "Are you going to do it?"

Arthur nodded and seemed reluctant to reveal anything more, but he knew he had to, and so he continued, "Molly and I have spoken to the healers at St Mungo's and they are quite willing to release her into our care, however, the Ministry is concerned about our…" Arthur shuffled uncomfortably, "financial ability to care for her."

"Your financial ability?" Draco scoffed, "you've raised what, a thousand children? They think you can't look after this one? And what does the Ministry have to do with this anyway?"

Arthur cleared his throat. "It wasn't quite a thousand," he said indulgently, "and while I believe that we raised our own children well enough, the Ministry feel that if they are to let us take Pansy home with us, we have to prove we can afford to keep her. Fudge is bent on making our lives difficult at the moment. When he heard that we were trying to do this he threw the financial obstacle in our path. If you read tomorrow's Daily Prophet you'll find an article suggesting that I am trying to adopt a Death Eater's child."

Draco knew just how difficult Fudge could be towards those he saw as a threat, and he shook his head in disgust. "So what do you want from me?" He scowled harshly. "Money?" Then it was as though a light came on in his head, of course that was what Weasley wanted, money. "How much do you want?"

"Actually we don't want anything, what we need is a surety from you. Ron suggested that you are close to Pansy and that you might be willing to help. We need a surety, something to reassure the Ministry that gold is available to support her. I think we'll have a problem because it comes from you, but if the finances are available they can hardly deny us what we ask."

"Do you want anything up front?"

"You don't understand Draco, I don't want any gold from you at all. Molly and I are perfectly capable of caring for her, we just need the façade of readily available gold."

Draco shrugged, "whatever you need." He pursed his lips, "Does she know that you're trying to do this? Because she's been disappointed in the past. Her uncle gave up on her and sent her back, and she doesn't deserve all the shit that's happened to her."

"I know," Arthur said gently. "I haven't told her anything yet, because I want to ensure that everything goes ahead before we get her hopes up."

"Good." Draco frowned and folded his arms across his chest. For some reason he felt angry; although he knew it wasn't directed at Weasley, and he was pissed off at Fudge's Ministry. He was also incredibly thirsty, and he scanned the room for a jug of water. "You said that there were other things you wanted to talk about…is there any water or juice or something here?"

"Arthur retrieved a jug of Pumpkin juice from the desk, "I'm afraid the rest is not so pleasant."

Oh great. Draco accepted the juice and leaned back in his chair.

"I have to admit that I didn't think you'd be quite so…inebriated…when I spoke to you about it."

Draco nodded in agreement. "Well, let me assure you, I've been drunker."

Arthur stared at the young blond in front of him. Ron had described him as 'a pain in the arse', and he could see why Ron would think so. Draco Malfoy was, despite his inebriation, full of self assured bravado. Arthur wasn't entirely sure how much was real and how much was forced. For some reason he had been nervous about meeting him, and yet now he felt quite at ease. Dealing with Draco Malfoy was really no different to dealing with Ron or Harry. Draco had a similar way about him, questioning and a little angry. Arthur was sure Draco would hear him out, he just wasn't sure if Draco would be happy to hear what he was about to say.

Arthur took a deep breath and ploughed into the speech he had prepared, knowing that he probably wouldn't get to finish it before Draco started questioning him. "As you may know, I have made it known that I plan to challenge Cornelius Fudge for the Minister's chair."

Draco shrugged and nodded.

"The council will vote in June and I several agenda's that I plan to follow up," he suddenly found himself fidgeting under the young man's gaze. Merlin he looks just like his father. "One of the things I would like to look into is this Death Eater exhibition at the Museum."

Draco drew breath so quickly that he coughed.

"Ron tells me," Arthur continued unabated, "that you believe Archibald Semeuse to be abusing your father."

Draco wheezed a little; "Archibald Semeuse?"

"The Curator of the Museum."

"I know who he is," Draco said darkly. "Ron told you this?"

"Harry told Ron."

"Harry has been talking about my father with Ron?"

Arthur could see that Draco was becoming agitated, but he pressed on, deciding that Malfoy Jnr. had to hear him out. "Harry and Ron have been telling each other things for a long time Draco. The point is that if this abuse is happening, I can do something about it. If I become Minister I'll be able to stop it."

"You'd stop it?"

"Yes."

"That would probably make you pretty unpopular."

"I don't want to be the Minister of Magic just to be popular."

"Would he be able to come home?"

That threw Arthur, because he wasn't sure exactly what to do with the remaining Death Eaters once the exhibition had been disbanded. He had planned to return them to Azkaban to be cared for, but then he had also planned to have the Dementors removed from Azkaban. He wondered if there could be a harm in sending Lucius Malfoy home. The man had been Kissed, so it was not as though he was going to be able to do anything to hurt anyone. "I guess that could be arranged."

"Alright." Draco sounded suspicious. "So what do you want me to do? I figure you wouldn't be here to tell me that you can help my father unless you wanted something from me in return."

Arthur knew that he should have been offended, but in this case the boy was right. "Yes, there is something you can do to help me."

"And?"

"The other main agenda I have for when I get into office is the prosecution of Fudge's Inquisitors."

Once again Draco almost coughed up a lung. "You want to prosecute the Inquisitors? But they were on your side."

"I know, I know that they were supposed to be on our side, but there are a good many of us who are more than a little ashamed of how they went about questioning Voldemort's followers. In the end the Inquisitors were more interested in destroying old blood lines than they were answers…you know that yourself."

"So…" Draco rasped again, "what do you want from me?"

"If I can get this prosecution to trial I want you to testify against Alastor Moody."

Draco had gone pale. He looked away, not entirely sure of what to say. "I…I don't think…why do you want to drag all this crap up again?"

"Because they deserve to be punished, Draco. The Inquisitors killed children, they killed your friends, they almost killed you."

"Sometimes it's better to leave these things in the past." Draco looked as though he was going to be sick. "If I don't help you, what happens to my father?"

And now was the time to be a politician. Arthur cleared his throat again and steeled himself to do this. "If you help me I will help you. If you agree to testify, I'll make sure your father comes home."

"And if I don't?"

"Then Lucius will be returned to Azkaban."

Draco smiled grimly, it seemed there was a politician in Weasley after all.

*******
Minerva was staring at the body on the ground, and the body stared back at her, or rather it stared vacantly at the sky, a semi-amused smile still on its lips. "Severus?" She swallowed hard, trying to wet her throat, "what have you done?"

Snape too was staring at the body. It had been so easy; it had taken no effort at all. Just a point of the wand and a murmured curse, no hissing emphasis, no well of emotion. He had forgotten just how easy it was. It struck him that he was too efficient with that particular curse.

"Answer me Severus!"

He frowned down at the body and finally looked to Minerva who was deathly pale and looked ready to faint. What had he done? "I've taken care of a problem; that's all, a pest if you will." He was surprised by the sound of his own voice, he sounded shell shocked. Perhaps he wasn't so efficient after all.

"You…" Minerva approached him, her gaze returning to the body, "you killed him!"

"I know." He sounded hollow now, but he didn't feel it. All he felt was relief. Potter had also approached him and Snape realized dumbly that the boy was standing beside him, looking down at Krum with a solemn expression on his face.

"But…" Minerva was still disbelieving, "you could go to Azkaban…you've killed him!"

Snape shrugged, "it doesn't matter, she's safe now. Isn't that the point?"

Minerva fell silent.

"I was coming to do the same thing," Harry said. Snape and Minerva turned to look at him, but Harry was still staring down at Krum as though he were some kind of disgusting mess, "It was the only way in the end. He wouldn't have stopped until he found her," he finished.

"Better then that I did it, Potter," Snape said blandly.

Still Minerva didn't speak, afraid that if she did she would agree with them.

"What are we going to do with it?" Harry asked, he crouched beside the body and looked into the still face.

"We'll go to Dumbledore," Snape said quietly, "he can contact the Ministry and they can come and take it away."

Harry stared up at Snape, utterly incredulous and for the first time realized that the man had feelings that ran deeper than Harry could have ever predicted. He was willing to go to Azkaban to keep Hermione safe? Harry was quite prepared to kill Krum, but by God he would have covered it up as best he could…or at least concocted some kind of story to go with the murder. Perhaps if they had not come across the scene and he had been left alone he would have disposed of the body in his own way. Harry had no doubt that Snape had his ways, the man had been a Death Eater and a spy, and he knew how to hide a body.

But he'd been caught in the act and now he seemed to accept his fate with stoic certainty. He made no move to defend his actions. He had no defense, and Harry could tell that he honestly believed that Krum was a problem that had to be eliminated, the same way he would eliminate a potion that had failed, or a stain on his dress robes.

"We can't tell the Ministry," Minerva said, voicing what Harry was thinking. Her eyes darted from the body to the two men and then to the castle. She began to pace, thinking quickly, "If the Ministry become involved you will go to Azkaban for murder. Fudge has hated you for years - he'll have you kissed and gone so fast…" she stopped pacing and her hand flew to her mouth in shock. The very idea was too terrible to contemplate. She could visualize so clearly those Death Eaters in their museum cases, and she could not stand for that to be his fate. She loved him, not romantically but deeply, and she could not stand to be here without him. She couldn't and wouldn't stand for him to lose himself to a Dementor, not for this crime, not for protecting a love. "You can't go to prison, not for the likes of Viktor Krum."

"Minerva…" Snape began, but Harry cut him off.

"Professor McGonagall is right. He was coming here to hurt Hermione and no matter what we did he wasn't going to stop until he found a way to her. It's better this way, its better that he's dead."

"Be that as it may, Potter," Snape seemed to recover himself a little, "I'm almost certain that Dumbledore already knows something has happened…"

"He won't contact the Ministry." Minerva said, "He'll cover it up."

"It doesn't matter," Snape replied, "I can accept it, and I dare say I probably deserve it."

"Don't be so fucking ridiculous," Harry snapped and then begrudgingly he added, "Hermione needs you, she needs you to still be around."

"Hermione doesn't need me, Potter. Hermione needs to be left to her own devices so that she can have a life. I didn't get rid of this useless piece of shit so that she could need me."

It was on the tip of Harry's tongue to spill out, "she's pregnant, she does needs you," but he stopped himself. It was Hermione's place to pass on that piece of information. Instead he stared evenly at the man he'd hated since the moment they'd met and said; "have you ever considered that she might want to have a life that included you in it? Who, for fuck's sake, are you to judge what is the best way for her to live her life?" Harry shrugged and shook his head. "She loves you. I have no fucking idea why but she does – and I thought you just didn't love her back, but you obviously do, so why are you making both your lives miserable?" His eye suddenly shifted past Snape, down the lawns. "Mr. Vode is burning leaves."

Minerva too turned to see what Harry was watching. Snape had already seen it. Vode's bonfire was irrelevant.

"We could burn it," Harry said urgently, "we could burn the body."

"I think Vode would notice if we threw a body on his fire," Snape said and then stopped, catching Harry's thought.

"Not if he's not a body," Harry looked to Minerva, "he could be something more…"

"Combustible," Minerva finished for him. She looked down at Krum with a little more interest, gauging his size and shape. "Vernis Foliage."

The body rocked and shivered and then seemed to shake off its human form until it shuddered itself into a long slender shape and finally settled into a grey branch with crisp brown leaves. A single dry and very dead grey branch.

Harry picked up the branch. It was strangely weighted, not heavy but it seemed full somehow, not branch-like. At least it didn't look like Krum any more.

"It won't change back will it?" Harry asked, "Or bleed?"

Minerva looked entirely miffed at the implied doubt. "It will behave just like a dead branch, Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled uneasily, trying to convince himself that it was nothing more than a branch he was holding and not the body of Viktor Krum. He looked between his two Professors'. Snape looked a little paler than usual and McGonagall looked slightly ill. He turned to watch the fire blazing beyond Hagrid's hut.

"Goodnight Professors', I'll see you in class."

Minerva looked away, but Snape nodded abruptly. "Don't tell Hermione."

Harry nodded his agreement, knowing full well that it wouldn't be such a good idea. Then he set off at a run towards Mr. Vode and his bonfire.

*******
Hermione stood staring absently out the Common Room window. In the darkness all she could see was the dazzling whiteness of the snow still capped on the highest mountain tops. Any snow that had managed to reach the castle had long since melted. It was still cold, but winter was leaving them.

She stroked her belly, trying to feel the presence of a baby in there. She found only the flatness of her normal stomach; there was no little mound, and so there was nothing to reveal her condition – yet.

She dug into the bowl of ice cream that Dobby had brought her from the kitchens. She should feel worried. She had spent other nights staring out of this window, knowing that somewhere out there, Viktor Krum was no doubt hating her and that maybe (probably) he would come to get her and seek his revenge.

She should have been worried, but tonight, for the first time in a long time, she felt perfectly safe.

*******
Harry watched the branch slowly crackle in the fire and marveled at McGonagall's skills. He had feared that the branch would change as it burned and he would be confronted with a charred body to explain to the unfriendly Mr. Vode. Instead the branch burned as a branch should burn and he watched it snap and crackle and glow, mesmerized by the flames. Through those flames he could see Snape and McGonagall sitting on the low wall that enclosed the courtyard, watching him.

They looked friendly. Hermione had said that they were close, but that recently McGonagall had not been speaking to him due to the "Regina incident". Harry hid a secret smile at Hermione's term for what had gone on in Snape's chambers. Now they were sitting side by side on the low wall, McGonagall murmuring something every so often to Snape, who seemed to be saying little but his body seemed to lean towards her, as though he was drawing comfort from her.

Not that Snape would ever admit to such a thing.

They had both surprised him. Snape because of the lengths he was willing to go to in order to protect Hermione, and McGonagall because Harry had always considered her straight laced and law abiding. He could never have imagined that she would help to cover up what was essentially a murder – although Harry preferred to think that Snape had put Krum down in much the same way one would put down a sick dog.

McGonagall loved Snape. Not in the same way Hermione did, but then there were many kinds of love. It made Harry begrudgingly think that perhaps there was a lot more to Snape than he'd thought. Hermione loving him he could put down to raging hormones and poor taste, McGonagall loving him? Well, there had to be something there.

And of course there was the fact that Snape had killed Krum so easily. Harry had seen little of the encounter, but they hadn't been there long, a matter of seconds and from what Harry had seen, Snape had just killed him, without issue. He had planned to kill Krum all along, just as Harry had planned to kill Krum all along. Snape had been more than willing to go to Azkaban to protect Hermione. If Harry had ever questioned Snape's feelings for her, he now had ample proof of them. He had laid everything bare for both Harry and McGonagall to see.

Not that he'd meant anyone to see, but he'd not shied away from the deed once he had been caught.

Harry returned to watching the branch burn. It glowed red in places, whilst the remainder was black as pitch and slowly starting to crumble away with each snap and hiss of the fire. In a matter of hours it would be little more than ash and Harry would stay all night and watch it burn. When it was all reduced to mere ashes, Harry knew he would take the pile and scatter them into the wind. Mr. Vode would no doubt watch him, knowing that Harry was the hero of their world – and that his sanity had often been questioned. He would think nothing of a mad hero running about throwing ashes into the rosebushes.

Snape stood up and turned to go. He stooped. Harry had never really noticed it before. But when Snape turned his face back to take one last look at Harry and the fire, Harry found his face a little less repulsive.

*******
One of the few joys of Snape's job as Potions Master at Hogwarts came in the form of his Advanced Potions class. On the whole his advanced students actually managed to please him no end. The class was notoriously difficult to gain entry to; only the very best got in, and in the past he had been known not to have an advanced class at all if he felt no student sufficient enough for the work. Surprisingly, this class was quite large, well, large by Snape's standards. There were eight people, none of whom where Neville Longbottom and none of whom would ever melt a cauldron.

It also meant that he could mark papers while the class worked unaided. Except of course that Potter was in this class. Potter who didn't belong here and whom he wouldn't have allowed in except that the Headmaster had specially requested it. Snape had been hoping that Potter would be failing so badly that he could be thrown out, but they now had a shared secret and there was no way that Snape was throwing him out of something as trifling as a classroom.

It had been more than a month since Krum's body had gone to earth and no one who had witnessed it had mentioned it once. There were looks though and Potter knew that he was not going to be thrown out of any class of Snape's. It didn't stop the little shit from irritating the hell out of him. Snape was amazed that any of Potter's potions actually worked considering the quality of his base planetary tinctures.

Today they were making complex inner eye potions. Made correctly the potion was a powerful tool which would allow the Witch or Wizard who imbibed it to see between the subtle fabric that separated the magical dimensions. Incorrectly made and the ingredients would make a powerful hallucinogenic drug that would send the Witch or Wizard who imbibed it on the biggest trip of their life – one from which they would never return. The closed ward of St Mungo's was full of gibbering idiots who had failed to put their potions together properly.

It was this reason that had led Snape to the decision that not a single drop of Potter's potion would actually reach anyone's lips. He cast a quick glance to the bench Potter shared with Hermione. Hermione was showing him what to do, something that would normally infuriate him but today he let it slide. Aside from the fact that without her help, Potter's Potion was no doubt going to be incredibly dangerous (face it, it was going to be dangerous with her help), Hermione was looking ill again; all pale and drawn. She did not look as though her concentration was good, and she looked very tired. Snape made a mental note not to test her potion either.

A few rows back Draco was making his potion with the violent intentions of an angry housewife. Snape rolled his eyes and wondered if there was going to be an explosion in class today.

Hermione had spilled Belladonna concentrate on her hand, Snape saw the bottle tip over without being able to stop her, and he automatically reached for something to neutralize it. Hermione swayed and Snape stepped down from his desk quickly, too late he realized that she was going to wipe her eyes, completely unaware that she had spilled anything on her hands at all.

Snape moved fast, but Draco, who was closer and had been watching Harry, moved faster. He grabbed Hermione by the wrist and wrenched her hand away from her face. Hermione yelped in surprise and pain, slipping backwards against Draco who automatically slipped an arm around her waist to steady them both.

Harry had stepped back, confused and then glaring angrily at Draco. Then Snape stepped in and poured the neutralizing agent over Hermione's fingers.

"What happened?" Harry asked, shoving Draco roughly away from Hermione.

"She had Belladonna on her hands," Snape said, not bothering to hide his annoyance with Potter for sitting right next to her and not noticing. "Draco just stopped her from destroying her eyesight."

"Oh…" Harry looked regretfully at Draco who looked a little hurt. "I'm really sorry."

Draco didn't get to reply because Hermione, who was still swaying, chose that moment to faint and Harry was forced to suddenly focus all his attention on lowering her gently to the floor.

This is a fucking circus. Snape crouched down beside her and frowned. By now the whole class was crowded around, staring down at the girl on the floor.

"Go and tell Madam Pomfrey that I'm bringing her directly to the Infirmary," Snape hissed at Harry. He gently scooped Hermione up from the floor.

"She doesn't need to go and see Madam Pomfrey," Harry said a little too quickly, "She's just tired…she hasn't been eating well lately."

Snape glared at Harry and tried to ignore the class watching; "If she is going to faint in my class then she needs to go to the Infirmary."

"She just needs to rest," Harry insisted, noting that Hermione was coming to, "she'll be fine."

Draco smiled spitefully and leaned forward, placing his hand on his Godfather's shoulder and whispered in his ear; "she's pregnant, Severus – up the duff." Then he straightened, turned with a large smirk on his face, and returned to his desk and his bubbling cauldron.

Snape's dark eyes widened and the savage pain and jealousy that lanced through his middle seemed for a moment to be utterly unbearable. His heart seemed to stop and hurt simultaneously, and his mind reeled in pure horror at the now irrefutable certainty that he had lost her.

He swore bluntly and heard the class murmur at his language.

"Miss Granger's ridiculous fainting fit has nothing to do with the class," Snape said silkily, glancing at the interested onlookers with a glare fierce enough to quell anyone foolish enough to argue with him. "I would suggest that you return to your cauldrons before I fail you all."

The class shuffled silently back to their places, and though the desire to gossip about why Hermione had passed out was almost palpable, they said nothing. Hermione herself groaned and tried to sit up. Snape lifted her however, and with an expression so severe that her classmates pitied her fate, he carried her out of the classroom.

He did not take her to the Hospital Wing however. Instead, he carried her across the hall to his office and kicked the door savagely shut behind him. He then dumped her unceremoniously into a chair.

Hermione blinked a few times and wondered just how she had allowed this to happen. Fainting in class was bad enough, but fainting in Potions! She dragged her tongue dryly across her bottom lip and shifted uncomfortably in the chair, trying to sit up a little straighter so that she could face him. She had no idea of how to explain what had just happened and with no inkling that Draco had already told him anything, so she settled with a simple, "thank you."

"You're welcome," he drawled sarcastically, "I have been led to understand that changing hormones tend to make pregnant women faint quite easily."

If she thought that he mouth was dry before, she was positively parched now. With dawning horror she looked everywhere about the room but at him. How had he found out? Who could have told him? She swallowed and wondered just what to say to him and found that she could think of nothing at all.

Her silence did little to quash the jealousy that tore at him.

Yet, despite the painful tearing inside him, he wanted to touch her so badly that his fingers tingled. But evidently she wasn't his to touch any longer. No, judging by her present condition she belonged to someone else entirely.

That thought brought a bitter taste to his mouth and he spoke out of spite; "I see you don't waste any time. Who is the lucky father?" A worse thought crossed his mind. "Is it Potter?"

She looked at him with shock. A flash of hurt entered her eyes and then she quickly looked away again. "It doesn't matter, Severus," she said softly.

"Oh, of course it doesn't bloody matter," he bit out harshly, "what does it matter that we've been apart what, two, three months? And now you've managed to get yourself pregnant, how clever of you."

Hermione hissed in response; "you told me to go and fuck other men, Severus!"

His jaw tightened. Silently he admitted that it galled him the most, the pure unadulterated regret he lived with every day. He had let her go. He had wanted her to get on with her life. But there was a selfish aching part of him that didn't want her to move on. She was his and his alone. "So what happened?" He asked nastily, that selfish part of him lashing out and wanting to hurt her as much as he was hurting, "off you went and fell in love with someone else? Or have you just been a petty little slut, opening her legs for anyone who came along? Taking a leaf out of Ginny Weasley's book?"

Her face flushed and she suddenly looked every bit as furious as he did, but looking deeper he could see the hurt in her eyes and he was disgusted to find that he felt satisfied by that. At least he wasn't the only one hurting in all of this.

"I didn't fall in love with anyone else." Her voice was low and modulated as she kept her temper in check.

He laughed, mocking her bitterly, "well then, I guess the slut theory rings true."

"I haven't slept with anyone else!" She snapped finally and then clamped her mouth shut and looked away.

It was Snape's turn to blink and her words seeped through the haze of anger like a cold dose of reality. His anger was the only thing blinding him to the obvious signs. His eyes narrowed and he looked closer at her, trying to perceive any changes in her young body. He knew precious little about pregnant women, only the odd things he had overheard whilst listening to conversations in the staff room – and such conversations were few and far between, but gut instinct gnawed at him. Apprehension and emotion began to mingle with the anger, along with another emotion, one he could not put a name to.

She placed a possessive hand over her still flat belly, her expression reflecting her panic. "I have to go," she said quickly and pushed herself up from the chair, determined to get herself out of there without any further confrontation.

Without thought he grabbed her arm, his fingers digging hard into the soft flesh, his heart beating so hard that he could hear it drumming in his ears.

She tugged at her arm but his grasp was painfully strong.

"Whose baby is it?" he asked, his voice as horribly tight as the pressure in his chest.

"Mine!" she spat fiercely.

He ground his teeth, knowing the answer to his question but asking it again anyway; "who is the father, Hermione?"

"It's none of your business, Professor."

He leaned in close, so close that she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheek, "I'm making it my business."

Tears filled her eyes and her bottom lip trembled. With great effort he resisted the urge to pull her into his arms and apologize for hurting her. But he would never apologize, because he wasn't sorry and he wanted answers. He never questioned why the need was so strong. All he told himself was that he just wanted to know the truth.

"Hermione," he said, his voice scarcely above a whisper and vibrating with warning, "I want to know who the father is, I want you to tell me – I can make you tell me."

She wanted to cry. What would he do if she told him? Force her to get rid of the child? "Why do you care?" she cried.

Because I love you. That was the only explanation his heart and mind would allow and he didn't want to fight it, but she was being stubborn, and he was stubborn in return. "Answer me," he said harshly.

She closed her eyes and when they opened again he saw, as well as felt, her defeat. "Who did you think it would be, Severus?" She asked, her voice choked, "it's yours, Severus, it would always have been yours."

Stunned he let go of her arm and felt himself sway backwards. It was the answer he had expected, but to hear it...

He tried to drag air into his lungs, but it seemed that oxygen was in such short supply that a simple breath was too much to ask.

It's yours, Severus, it would always have been yours. Her words reached him on some distant plain. He was going to be a father. He gave his head a shake and attempted to push aside the terror that was crashing down on him. Oh dear Merlin, he couldn't be a father. He didn't know how to be a father and he was fairly certain that he would be a thoroughly shitty father. Look at what his own father had been, what if he was as rotten and foul? He was already rotten and foul! The prospect; once so distant, was so frighteningly overwhelming that he felt the need to vomit.

Hermione took one look at his face and pushed past him, heading to the door and snapping him out of his brief stupor. He went after her, catching her on the threshold.

"Hermione!" He moved in front of her, forcing her to stop. "I'm not finished with you."

She lifted her stubborn chin and despite how pale she appeared she shocked him with the fire in her eyes; "there is nothing to talk about."

He begged to differ on that score. "Why didn't you tell me about this child when you found out you were pregnant?" he demanded with far more calm than he felt.

"Because you were better off not knowing. Besides, I didn't think you'd care either way," she replied bluntly.

He flinched as though she had physically slapped him. What kind of a monster did she think he was – to think that he didn't care about her at all? He controlled his voice, ensuring that it did not waver. "Since I am the child's father I have a responsibility to it – and to you."

"A responsibility you have made more than clear you don't want," she argued heatedly, "so I release you from all obligation. Now, leave me alone."

His jaw clenched tighter. "It is my responsibility none the less."

"I don't want or expect anything from you. I am fully prepared to raise this child by myself." Again she had her hand over her stomach, as though protecting the foetus inside from him. "I don't want this baby to be some great noble sacrifice for you or some obligation. I deserve better than that, and so does my child."

Each word was like a blow. She was right of course, so right it hurt. She did deserve better and so did her child. Their child. The thought made his heart twist painfully and he knew that the irrefutable truth was that the child she carried inside her would be far better off without him as a father. He knew nothing but the worst about raising a child. He knew how to instill fear, how to dominate and intimidate. That was all.

A strange sense of despair wrapped around him; fear and regret meshed together, and then added to the whole befuddled mess was an instant memory of the strange confused and mistreated child he had once been.

But he was a grown man now, shaped by a lifetime of disappointment and educated by a cruel, bitter man who had taught his son little more than humiliation and degradation and how to carry on that tradition. But regardless of all of that, he had a responsibility to Hermione and he would not fail her. He would do anything for her; he had proved that to himself if not to her, and now he would do anything to protect the life inside her.

He calmed himself, realizing that fighting her was not getting them anywhere, and he decided it would be best to change tactics. He breathed out, straightened himself up and asked; "how far along are you?"

She didn't look at him, but she too calmed, sensing that he was going to try and be civil and so she should make the same effort. "The last time we were together was Valentine's Day, so then, or sometime before."

He frowned and mentally calculated. Two and a half, three months, far enough along for it to be well established. How long had she known about it? How long had she hid it? "Have you been to see someone? A mediwitch, or a…" what were they called? "A midwife?"

"No…not yet." She hesitated, chewing her lip and belying her discomfort, "I don't want to go to Madam Pomfrey…or anyone in the village. I don't want the gossip and they'd tell the Headmaster if a student went in there. Lavender thinks I should go to St Mungo's."

So Miss Brown knew this too. "She's probably right. You should go to St Mungo's."

"I don't want to," she said quickly and realized that she sounded immature. "I was going to wait, until after exams." She didn't want to admit it but she didn't want to go alone. Harry was a wreck (no matter what he said) and both he and Lavender were caught up with studying for exams, and she didn't want to distract from that.

But Snape was looking at her as though she was mad. "Hermione, exams are two months away, you need to see someone now." He began to pace, "I will make an appointment for you."

"But…"

"And I'll make you something for this fainting. Do you get sick too?" He didn't wait for a reply, of course she got sick, he'd seen her looking ill and now it simply made sense. "I'll make you something for that too."

"But I…"

"You can't Apparate," he added, remembering some staff room conversation where someone was discussing babies being splinced in utero when some fool Witch Apparated without thinking. "We'll have to catch the Knight Bus to London."

We? Was he coming too? She watched him pace and was a little shamed to feel relief flood over her. He was taking charge, and at that moment; although it was weak, she desperately wanted someone to take charge. She bowed her head slowly. He may not be her future, no matter how much she wanted him to be, but he would get her through this day.

*******
"Master Severus is becoming insistent," Non wrung his hands, "he won't accept excuses anymore. He says that he will keep Master Draco away, but he wants to know how to help you."

"He can't," Lucius sounded tired, he always sounded tired these days. "Draco needs to be there," he explained, "it's part of the spell…" He stopped and in that instant knew he'd said too much. "Don't tell him that, just tell him I'm fine."

"Master Severus knows that you're dying."

"I told you not to tell him."

"You must not blame Non, Master Lucius, but Master Severus insisted."

Lucius stayed silent. Time had slipped away from him and he was well and truly dying. The air around him felt warmer and it was not through a charm. Summer must be coming. The days were longer. The Angel had lasted far longer than Lucius had expected.

"Just make sure he looks out for Draco, because after I'm gone, Semeuse will want him. I don't know what to do once school finishes - Severus will have to look after him then."

Non watched Lucius for a while and felt his eyes start to water. He could not stand this, he could not stand to watch him die. "You must rest Master Lucius. Non will tell Master Severus to look after Master Draco…"

Lucius chuckled, "you have too many Masters."

Non swallowed hard, "Non will make sure Master Draco stays safe."

"Good," Lucius sighed, "go and tell Severus now. Just go and tell him."

*******
Continued…