Note: Just a light chapter, the drama is coming, and it'll hit us all from at least three different angles. I need time to let these kids grow – and they are. Enjoy this glimpse into the Snapes' family life!

Ah, and as this is a short one, I'll post #17 tomorrow!


Holiday Break 2011

Snapes' family home

Florence was in the living room playing with her youngest granddaughter, Ayla Malfoy; the little blond girl twirled in her princess dress, dancing to a song coming from the radio, when Severus walked out of the library with a letter in his hands.

"Grandpapa!" Ayla exclaimed, running towards him, demanding: "Up! Up!"

Severus leaned and picked her up, "Who is this beautiful princess?" he pretended not to know.

"Ayla Narcisa Malfoy!" the girl shouted her name proudly, touching both hands to his face and giggling.

"Don't you sound a bit too proud," muttered Severus.

"Husband," admonished Florence, sending him a warning glare, Do not say that, Draco has done his best to rehabilitate his family name.

I know. I know. Old habits die hard...

"Beautiful name, Princess Ayla," Severus said out loud.

"Fly! Grandpa, fly!" Ayla demanded, her arms up.

You're lucky her attention span is as long as fyreworm.

Severus smiled and threw Ayla in the air, using magic to make her float down slowly back towards his arms.

She dissolved in a fit of toddler giggles that had the Snape couple laughing with her.

"Can you believe she's almost three?" Florence said, watching the girl fly up again and back down to her husband's arms.

"Nope. She's two and a half, Florence," he corrected her, "She'll be three soon enough, you don't have to make it sooner."

She rolled her eyes, knowing he wished their grandkids never grew up.

"Of course I don't want them to grow," Severus scoffed, having heard her thoughts, "Look at what happened when our kids did it; nothing but headaches and troubles."

"That's not true. They all make us proud; James and Nick are great teachers, Elizabeth is–"

"A great Mrs. Malfoy," he added bitterly.

"She's a great mum and writer!" Florence corrected him, "Her social column is the most read in Britain. Christopher is working hard to be an amazing wandmaker, and the younger three are bright and will certainly have great futures."

"I didn't say they weren't great kids, I said they gave us headaches and troubles; honestly, Florence, the only one who has never given us problem is Chris."

"When has Sophie ever–"

"She's blessed," remembered Severus, "And you won't tell me the stupid face's name."

"Stup' face!" repeated Ayla, giggling.

Florence chuckled, "You hate the man and you don't even know his name."

"Man?" Severus's head snapped up towards her.

Florence cursed her slip up, quickly coming up with something: "Yes, it's a bloke not a girl."

Still Severus narrowed his eyes at her.

"Despite what you call 'headaches and troubles'," continued Florence, "James, Nick and Liz have given us grandkids," she pulled him down for a kiss.

"No kissy!" complained Ayla, pushing her grandma a couple of feet away with magic.

"Look at you, my jealous baby-girl!" chuckled Severus, holding her hand, "But you shouldn't be pushing grandma though," he softly admonished her.

Ayla looked ashamed, reaching out her hand to her grandma, "Sowy, granny."

Florence kissed her face, "Apologies accepted, my sweet."

"Now," said Severus, "Will the lovely princess help me call down here a very naughty knight?"

"'Tephen?" Ayla asked.

"Yes, we have some good news to give him – if he behaves."

"What is it?" asked Florence, frowning.

"I've received a letter from the parents of Peter Argyle, a Slytherin fourth-year."

"Yes, I know who he is, he ended up in the infirmary twice last term. Quidditch injury. What happened to him?"

"He's sick. Dragon Pox."

"D'agons make I sick?" asked Ayla, concerned.

"No, love, it's just a name."

"So," Florence arched an eyebrow, letting her husband know she realised what he was about to do and didn't approve, "Argyle's not returning to the school for the rest of the school term, and you'll give his position on the team to Stephen?"

"No. I won't give it to him," Severus replied, "But I'll let him try out for it."

Against nepotism now, Severus? Jokingly said Florence.

He frowned, I've never favoured any of

Really? What about Sophie? She's got unlimited access to the library, hexes her classmates weekly, asks the kitchens for food like she's in a hotel, and has got caught after curfew more times than any other student and never got a detention.

She is different, and I've never heard you say a word against any of that.

I don't disagree. She shrugged. Sophie has enough already on her plate, she deserves some coddling.

So why bring this up? He asked with a hint of exasperation.

She let out a heavy sigh, shaking her head, "I don't think letting Stephen play is a good idea."

It was Severus' turn to sigh, wanting her to support his decision: "He'll be fourteen in a couple of months, Flor, he's half-way done with his magical studies and we've forbidden him to play so far. Let's give him a chance. Besides, the more he spends in the Quidditch pitch, the less time he'll have to pester Gianah."

She narrowed her eyes at him, seeing right through his half-truths: "You just want him to become a little Quidditch star and have even more chance with the girls."

Severus couldn't hide his smirk fast enough, "Let the boy live, wife. This is why we fought a war–"

"What?" she exclaimed, folding her arms, "We did not fight a war to increase our son's chances of getting laid, Severus."

"I did," he shrugged.

She scoffed: "No, you didn't!"

"STEPHEN!" Severus shouted, evading having to give her a reply, "Get down here!"

"Down 'ere! 'Tephen!" repeated little Ayla from her grandfather's arms.

"You call him, baby-girl," nodded Severus, smiling at her.

In less than a minute, they heard the teen's footsteps on the stairs.

"What is it, dad?" asked Stephen, walking down the stairs and smiling when he saw Ayla, "Hey there, princess."

"Let go, grandpa," Ayla demanded, patting Severus's arm, and the moment she had both feet on the floor she ran to Stephen, who picked her up and twirled with her, making her laugh.

He's a good kid. Admitted Florence through their bond, watching her little troublemaker son playing with Ayla.

He is. He deserves this.

That remains to be seen. Said Florence, still not sure they should let their son play.

"Stephen," Severus began, "Argyle is out of the team."

The teenager stopped and stared at his father, hope lighting up in his green eyes, "Why? And what does that mean? Why did you call me here?"

"We," Severus eyed his wife, who folded her arms, clearly being an unwilling part of that 'we', "will let you try out to play in his place when classes resume in two weeks."

"Really?" the boy gaped, eyes shining with excitement.

"Yes. But you'll try out for it, I'm not handing you the position just because you're my son," repeated Severus.

Stephen's broad smile dimmed considerably as he looked from his father to his mother – it was clear her opinion of that situation.

"Mum," the boy began, trying to find words to convince her to let him play.

Florence raised a hand, stopping him, "Listen, son, I don't think you should play. You haven't been on your best behaviour to warrant such a gift."

Stephen deflated, "Please, mum."

"However," Florence continued, "I'll stand by your father's decision."

Severus smiled and moved towards her, wrapping her in his arms, sending her: Love when you're angry but supportive.

To what Florence replied with an eyeroll, but the corner of her mouth moved up and he knew she wasn't that angry with him.

"Did you hear that, Ayla?" Stephen exclaimed, "I can play in the Slytherin team!"

"If you pass Captain Flint's test," added Severus, standing behind his wife with both arms wrapped around her waist.

"I got it, dad," Stephen nodded, his smile growing as he looked at Ayla, "Will you go watch me play, Princess Ayla?" he twirled her again.

"Yes! Kiditch!" shouted Ayla.

Severus turned Florence around to face him, If he causes trouble, we'll forbid him again. He said reassuringly.

Fine. I just worry about him and... all of this. We know he'll make the team, and we also know that will go to his head.

He loves playing

He's a rake in the making, Severus. She interrupted him, huffing, Becoming a Quidditch player will only make that worse.

Let him live, wife. He repeated, fisting a hand in her hair and tugging her head backwards to kiss her lips.

She just rolled her eyes, knowing she had lost that battle.

"Hey! No kissy!" shouted Ayla, making them all laugh.


Christmas' Eve

The Snape family enjoyed a calm family Christmas dinner that year; Severus, Florence, Christopher, Sophie, Stephen, Lily, Eileen, James, Hermione, Nikolai, Luminara and the Grangers.

Nicholas and Fred went to the Christmas party at the Burrow as usual – something the Snapes weren't doing ever again.

Once everyone had either left or gone to bed, a little after midnight, Florence knocked on her son's door.

"Chris? Are you still up?"

"Yes, mum. Come in."

She opened the door and walked into the room, smiling as she saw him sitting up on the bed, an ancient-looking book on his lap.

"Studying, love?" she sat on the bed.

"Yes. As my punishment, Master Gregorovich told me to have this read by the time I return in two days. It's about wand cores and wood combinations. He wasn't happy to let me come home for four days."

"Hm... and are you happy, Chris?" Florence asked with a hint of concern.

"Yes, mum," he smiled broadly, "I love what I'm doing. Gregorovich isn't a kind Master, but he's generous with his knowledge. Some days he talks for hours and I just follow him around, doing whatever he orders and learning so much through his experience."

"If you're happy, then I'm happy," she touched his face, "We are very proud of you, love."

"I know, mum," he held her hand and lay a kiss on her knuckles, looking at her with a small frown, "You look worried..."

"I am... I worry about Stephen. Ever since that incident with his wand..."

"Is it acting up again? I asked Stephen and he said his wand is fine."

"No, no new problems, it is working... let's hope it stays that way."

"Yeah. Black walnut wands aren't forgiving ones. If he's not completely honest with himself, it will stop working for him – permanently," he paused, looking at his mother, "It's because of Gianah Weasley, isn't it?"

"Yes. Your father and I believe they're soulmates."

Chris' eyes widened, "What? That's huge!"

"Yes. But having the two of them nearby is as stressful as having two Blast-Ended Skrewts loose in the house."

"Aren't you spending New Year's at the Malfoys'?"

"Yes," Florence let out a heavy sigh, "And I'm keeping an eye on Stephen. Can you believe your dad will let him play Quidditch?"

Christopher grimaced, "I don't think that's a good idea... he was telling me about some girls he has been snogging and that'll only get more frequent if he becomes a Quidditch player."

"My thoughts exactly!" she nodded.

"However," added Chris, "It's his life, mum, and if Stephen fucks up with Gianah, it will be his fault."

Florence pressed her lips into a thin line, knowing that he was right but she couldn't stop worrying about her youngest son.

Christopher yawned and she touched his hand, "I'm sorry to bother you so late, love," getting ready to stand up.

"Don't worry, mum," he held her hand, stopping her from leaving, "I miss you and dad and everyone; seeing James, Liz, Sophie and the twins tonight, sitting at a full table filled with love and laughter, was a blessing."

She smiled, "And Nick's coming here for lunch tomorrow with Fred, Lynne and baby Fabian."

"I can't wait to see them. I love learning how to be a great wandmaker, but it's just Gregorovich and me, it can get lonely fast after being raised in a full house."

Florence felt her eyes fill up with unshed tears, recognising in his face the sweet little boy that once asked her for a Firebolt right in that same bedroom.

"Don't you get evenings off?" she asked, changing the subject to avoid crying.

"I do," he nodded.

"And... haven't you met someone to help with your loneliness?"

Christopher winced, "I really do not want to discuss my one-night stands with my mother."

Florence quickly shook her head and stood up, "And your mother doesn't want to hear about them either."

They both chuckled and she added: "If you're happy then that's enough for me."

He exhaled, "I'm focusing on my career right now – so I'm fine with not having a special person. For now. I feel like I haven't met him yet."

"Well, maybe he's too young and soon you will."

"Is that a mother's feeling?" Chris narrowed his eyes, a glint of amusement in them.

"Well, you're a very special young man, I believe somewhere out there there's another very special young man lucky to be your beloved in the future. You've just yet to meet him – perhaps he's still a student..."

Chris made a face, "That'd make him almost ten years younger than me. I'd be cradle-snatching, mum!"

Florence chuckled, "A ten-year age gap is not much in the wizarding world, love. Anyway, it's just something that came to me," she shrugged and kissed his forehead, "I'll let you rest now. Good night, love."

"Good night, mum."

And she left the room, touching the closed door for a moment before going to her room, glad her son was happy and that the war hadn't affected his life so much.