The first thing he registered was that his head hurt. It hurt rather a lot. The second thing he registered was that his neck hurt too, why was it bent at such an odd angle, had someone tilted his bed for a prank? It was probably the Weasley twins. Little bastards.
Then he registered something hard poking into his cheek. That hurt more than his head. So he tried to move, slowly. That was a mistake, now he felt sick. The thing poking his cheek had been moved though. Where were his hands? What was in his hands? It was rather cold. Maybe if he just opened his eyes, he'd understand. That seemed like a good idea. It was customary to open your eyes when you woke up wasn't it?
Oh, fuck no. That was a fucking awful idea. Why was the room spinning? Why did he now really, really want to vomit? Opening his eyes made his head really hurt.
Right, he could summon a pain potion. That would help. Where was his wand? Fuck. Really, where the fuck was his wand?
Right, wandless it was then. Why wasn't his arm cooperating? What the fuck was going on? Had he been poisoned?
"I shan't be having this conversation with your ghost then?" Noise. Noise hurt. If he ignored it, maybe it would go away. He heard a snort and the sound of someone sitting. That wasn't the plan. They were meant to go away and let him die in peace. Maybe they wanted to watch him die. That was slightly sadistic. The poison would take over soon surely, he really did feel fucking awful.
"Oh for the love of Merlin! Here!"
He felt something being shoved into his hand. It clinked. Why would his hand clink? Was he handcuffed to whatever was in his hands? It seemed to fit given that someone was here to watch him die. Was he expected to drink this? He was a Potions Master for Circe's sake! He wasn't drinking something unknown. Although, if he were already dying maybe it didn't matter. There was the small matter of his arm refusing to cooperate to contend with though. Must be the handcuffs.
He heard a frustrated noise. It might have come from him, he wasn't sure and then the potion was yanked from his hand and held to his lips. He was already dying. It really didn't matter, so he complied.
"Feeling better?" a sardonic voice asked. He cracked an eye open. The room had stopped spinning and he no longer felt nauseous. That was good. He moved so he was actually sitting rather than slumping in the seat. Still no vomit. Wonderful. He braved opening both eyes looking around the room before settling on a very pissed off looking Minerva McGonagall. Fuck. That was never good. What had he done? He racked his brains trying to remember, drawing a blank.
"Minerva, I feel that I must apologise." Well, he might not know what for, but the look on her face suggested that he should.
She arched a brow. "Indeed, Severus. Might I ask what specifically it is you're apologising for?"
Fuck. Right. "My behaviour?" That was often the cause of her ire. It was another safe bet.
"What behaviour, Severus? Your behaviour towards Miss Granger, who acted more like an adult than you yesterday? Or your behaviour after she left?"
Miss Granger? What the fuck did she have to do with anything? Oh. Oh fuck. Heritage potion.
He winced as yesterday came back to him, barrelling into his memories like a ten ton truck and then glanced down, noting the vodka bottle he still had cradled to his chest. That explains feeling like he was dying then. And the clinking. Shit, Minerva was still glaring at him.
"All of it?" he hedged.
"Hmmm." Minerva eyed him like one would a particularly tiresome toddler, "What are you going to do about Miss Granger, Severus?"
"Must I do something about the girl? She has two parents! No child wants a third." He wasn't whining. He wasn't!
"So you intend to let your daughter walk these halls for the next six years and just pretend to be nothing more than her teacher?" Minerva asked incredulously.
Hmmm, she didn't appear pleased with that, but fuck it, he had no idea how to salvage this. "Yes?"
"For Circe's sake Severus, you cannot be serious!"
Right. That wasn't an option then. She'd never share her scotch with him again at this rate. Although, given how he'd woken up feeling maybe that was for the best.
"I do not know what you want from me, Minerva." he replied finally. It was better to be honest. Maybe she'd take pity on him and explain exactly what he had to do to not be cut off from her superior supply.
"I want you to grow up!" she shouted, startling him. "You have a daughter. A wonderful, kind, intelligent daughter. Who you completely lost all semblance of sanity in front of yesterday! Based on your answers this morning, I remain unconvinced that any of it returned! You are better than this Severus Snape, emotionally stunted though you may be. She's coping better with the idea that you are her father than you are that she is your child. And my Gods, I've no idea how we didn't see it before." She snorted. It wasn't attractive, not that he'd ever be stupid enough to say it. Despite earlier musings, he valued his life. "She's so bloody like you it's unreal."
That brought him up short. "What?"
"She's loyal to a fault, even if it leads her into questionable situations, she's uncommonly intelligent, with a low tolerance for those who don't take their education seriously and she has an unrivalled need to know everything. She. unfortunately, also inherited your social awkwardness, but the last year with those boys appears to have rounded off some of those edges. However, she still does not tolerate Miss Patil and Miss Brown."
He scoffed at that. "Of course, she doesn't, she possesses a brain. Something that neither Miss Brown nor Miss Patil can claim."
"I think that may be the nicest thing you've ever said about her, Severus. You are going to have to speak with her, you know. She may have two parents, good ones from what I know, but they do not understand her life here. You could give her that. Do you have any idea what happened to her mother?"
He sighed. Apparently, there was no escaping this. "No. I had assumed she'd married on the continent. Now, I'm unsure."
"Then I suggest you find out. I think this could be good for you, my boy."
Good for him? How the fuck could discovering he had a Gryffindor daughter be good for him? If her first year was any indication she'd be terrible for his blood pressure and Gods knew it was bloody high enough. And that was before he even began to think about the fact she lived in a bloody castle full of boys. Boys he would now have to bloody well keep an eye on to make sure they did nothing untoward. Did he not have enough to fucking do?
At this moment he thought that time spent in the company of the Dark Lord would be a blessed relief. One knew what the expectations were with him, mostly anyway. Assuming he was reasonably sane that day, and if he wasn't, well, it was a straightforward cruciatus or death. He could handle that.
What the fuck did he know about teenage girls beyond that they were fucking irritating and liable to massacre perfectly good potions ingredients if they happened to be in the presence of a boy they liked? He didn't want to watch Miss Granger bat her eyes at someone in his class. He didn't want to watch her bat her eyes at someone full bloody stop. He'd be expected to do something about it. And teenage girls were vicious beasts, especially ones like Miss Granger who read all the bloody time. He'd never survive that.
However, it was clear Minerva wasn't going to let this go. "Fine. I'll speak with the girl but I am promising nothing."
"That's all I wanted, Severus." she replied with a satisfied nod.
He was aware he was being a coward, although he preferred to think of it as evidence gathering and preparation. He gave himself another week. Another week and he'd speak to his daughter, fuck that still sounded insane. He'd taken to practising it in his head whenever he thought of the irritating chit. If anyone had used legilimency, they'd have thought he'd finally snapped. Maybe he had. He was actually considering this. Speaking to his daughter. Attempting to be a parent. Him, the greasy git. Someone's parent. That was never not going to be odd. He just needed to get Halloween out of the way first. He fucking hated Halloween.
Of fucking course he wasn't allowed to get Halloween out the road. That's not how his life worked. He took in the terrified faces of his daughter and her two sidekicks as the petrified cat swung in the air. The Chamber of Secrets was open. Fucking wonderful. Because they all needed another mental year after the last one. And really, who named something The Chamber of Secrets? Was it named by a toddler?
He'd really like to blame Potter, but even he could not work out how the boy had possibly done this, so he'd had to allow Albus to let them go. However she was here now, and the crowd was dispersing, maybe he needed to get this over with.
"Miss Granger?"
She stopped dead, twirling on the spot to face him, her eyes wide. Fuck. Maybe she was as scared of this as he was. He really needed to at least pretend to be the adult. He ignored the little voice at the back of his head that whined that he really, really didn't want to. Being an adult sucked.
"Come with me, Miss Granger." He levelled the dunderheaded duo a glare as they made a move to follow her. "I was not aware your names were Miss Granger. Return to your common room. Immediately."
It appeared that some small semblance of luck was on his side as they hesitated, shooting the girl a concerned look, before heading off in the direction of their tower.
He sighed. Was he meant to speak to her on the walk down to the dungeon? What exactly did one say to the daughter he had no idea existed until recently? For Salazar's sake, Minerva was right, he really was emotionally stunted.
"In."
The girl complied silently. That had to be a first.
"Miss Granger, I am unsure as to what you want from me. As you no doubt gathered, your existence came as a shock. Minerva thought it best that we speak but I am at a loss as to what to say."
She looked at him consideringly and arched a brow. Fuck. There he was. She looked so damn like her mother that he hadn't been able to find a single piece of himself in the girl. Well beyond Minerva's assessment of their similarities.
"I don't know what to tell you, Sir. I hadn't expected those results either. Can you…..can you tell me about my mother?"
Fuck. Start with the easy questions kid. He couldn't tell her they went to each other for casual sex when things got stressful. Could he? No. No, probably best not to. That would probably piss Minerva off and really, he was trying to avoid that. If ever there was a time he needed her scotch it was now.
"Your mother was sacred 28. Not that she believed in any of it, but she wore the mask well. You look exceedingly like her. I cannot believe I didn't notice it before. We became friends at school, she was Lucius Malfoy's cousin, so we moved within the same circles."
"My Mother was a Death Eater?" She looked faintly horrified.
"No. Your mother, as I have already said, did not believe in it, however, she was from a prominent family, linked to several other prominent families and when one values their life, they learn to wear a mask in certain situations. Your mother excelled at it. In public, she was the perfect pureblood daughter, in private, she was less so. She was funny, irreverent, and bold. She and Narcissa were extremely close as girls."
"Narcissa? Narcissa Malfoy! Hold on, if my biological mother was Lucius Malfoy's cousin, then Malfoy and I are related." She had gone so pale he wondered if she was in danger of passing out.
Choking back a laugh as he imagined his Godson's face at that revelation he answered, "Indeed."
She appeared to be gathering herself before she looked at him, peeking up through her lashes as though she wasn't sure how he was going to react to this.
"Do you know where she is? I guess I was just wondering why she didn't want me." Her voice was so small by the end of that statement that he had to stop himself from doing something completely out of character, like offering comfort. How did one offer comfort to their previously unknown daughter? Did she expect him to hug her? Dear Gods, he hoped not. He'd never voluntarily hugged another person in his life.
He sighed instead. "I do not know. However, I can make enquiries."
She nodded. "Will you tell me, if you find something out?"
"I will….consider it."
She nodded again, looking at her knees.
"Miss Granger, is it your wish to have some semblance of a relationship with me as your….father? Or do you wish for me to remain solely your teacher?"
Her head whipped up in shock, clearly, she hadn't been expecting to be given the choice. His heart beat a little faster as she contemplated him, it was almost as if he was dreading her rejection. That couldn't be right. He didn't want to be a father.
"I...I honestly don't know, Sir. I never imagined that you'd want anything to do with me. May I think about it?"
"Yes, Miss Granger, you may." It wasn't a no at least. "How have your friends taken the revelations? Nothing has been blown up as I expected."
"Oh. I haven't told them, Sir. They're not always rational when we discuss you."
"Indeed. And your...parents?"
"I've written a letter but I've not sent it yet." she hesitated before continuing, "They're good parents, I love them but they don't really understand." she laughed but it was brittle and held no humour. He realised startlingly quickly that he never again wanted to hear that sound come from his child. "How could they? Magic is for fairy tales, not real life. They're dentists, did you know? Well educated, deal in facts, dentists. And I, I come here and use my magic wand to turn a rat into a goblet. I receive broomstick flying lessons and have lessons where we're taught trolls and dragons and mermaids are real creatures. How could they possibly understand that?" She looked at him then, huge brown eyes, Ella's eyes, pleading with him silently to please tell her how to make them understand.
He sighed again. This parenting lark was bloody hard. How was he meant to tell this child that they would never understand, not really, because she was right? How the bloody fuck could they, it all sounded insane to muggles.
"I wish I had the answers, Hermione." Her eyes went wide at his use of her given name. "But I do not. The line a muggle-born witch or wizard walks is a difficult one and it is rarely easy to amalgamate two vastly different worlds."
She nodded then, her shoulders slumping slightly in resignation.
"Come, it is time for bed. Should you wish to, we can meet again next week. The decision is yours, Miss Granger, I have no wish to force you. I am not sure I have it in me to be a parent, my own role models were entirely inadequate but should you wish me to, I will try."
"Thank you for speaking with me, Sir." She stood to go and was almost at the door when she turned back to face him, a slightly impish gleam in her eyes. "Sir? Should you ever tell Malfoy we're related, please let me be there."
He smirked at her then, "I shall do my best. Now, off to bed with you."
That had gone better than he expected he mused. Maybe he could do this after all. Now, he had an owl to write, maybe Cissa knew where Ella was. He'd never asked, he'd never believed it was his place but now, with the sight of his usually brash daughter curling in on herself as she questioned her worth fresh in his mind, he knew he had to do something. An hour in the girl's company and she was already turning him soft. Fuck. That didn't bode well at all.
He wondered if he could convince Minerva that he deserved a scotch, now?