“Evans throws the Quaffle to Potter who…Did Potter just lose his head to a Bludger? Aw, what a shame. It appears McElderry leaped in front of the Bludger to bat it toward the Slytherin Seeker, Crabbe.”

As he watched the Quidditch game, Severus Snape leaned back in the announcer box, stretching his sore muscles until his bones popped.

“Snape,” Professor McGonagall hissed from above him.

Oh, the game. “Potter just made a ridiculously easy shot but…missed! Lucky Evans was there to grab the Quaffle as it appears Potter can’t manage to put…” He kept talking but his magically magnified voice stilled across the playing field. As the students spun around to stare at the box, Snape whirled viciously on Professor McGonagall.

“What--?” He froze.

She had her wand pointed at the magical microphone and her eyebrows were so drawn, they looked like one long line. Slowly, her pinched face unraveled. “You may keep your opinions about Potter to yourself, Snape.”

“I was--”

His magnified voice exploded through the microphone and there was scattered laughter from the stands. Some of the students turned again to stare at Snape.

“It looks like Longbum—Excuse me, Longbottom—is on the trail of the Snitch.” There was more laughter, but this time it was directed at Frank Longbottom, a nerdy Gryffindor who even Snape felt superior to.

Thud!

Something slammed into the side of Snape’s head. Stars burst in front of his eyes and someone screamed.

“Severus!” someone else called frantically. It sounded like Lily Evans but her voice was growing further and further away.

He heard sounds: a creaky wheel, the rustle of clothes, clanking jars… On a Quidditch field? Forcing his eyes open, he saw Madam Pomfrey leaning over him. She smelled like peppermint and Blood-Replinishing Potion.

“Dear Severus.”

No one ever called him ‘dear.’ Something horrible must have happened. Or maybe she had found out about his parents. It was easy to hide news about his parents’ death from his teachers. Though his mum was a witch, she and Tobias had both lived and died in a Muggle town. Severus doubted Pomfrey cared enough to page through last year’s obituaries, but if she was calling him ‘dear’, she must have found out he was orphaned.

“Dear, dear, boy, it was an accident.”

Severus’s lip curled. Of course his father had accidentally slammed the car into the tree.

She was still talking. What was she on about? “…then Crabbe threw the Bludger and it hit you in the head. Do you remember?”

Then Severus flushed, realizing why she was calling him a dear boy. He was in the hospital wing because he’d been hit in the head during a Quidditch game.

“Yes, I remember,” he said stiffly in a vain attempt to mask his embarrassment at following the wrong train of conversation.

Pomfrey had already fluttered off to snag some potions off the shelf. From this distance, Snape had a hard time seeing her and watching her blurry shape wobble around made him queasy.

He closed his eyes.

“Here you go, dear. Swallow this.”

Severus took the potion she shoved into his mouth. It stung and seemed to swell up when it reached his throat. He gagged but managed to swallow the potion.

“Very good. That will help more than you think.” Poppy patted his hand. “Now go to sleep.”

He awoke to someone pulling down his pants. He lifted a limp hand and tried to swat the intruder away.

“Wha-y’doin’?” he mumbled groggily.

“Shh.”

He moved to grab his pants when a warm cloth swiped over his bare stomach.

“WHA-Y’DOING’?”

Now the person was coming into focus: Pomfrey, of course. She rubbed another cloth over his face. “You have a fever.”

“But--”

She folded his pants and put a sheet over his bare skin. “You’re sweating and you soaked through your clothes. Here’s a clean robe. Sit up and put your arms out, dear.”

Struggling to sit, he complied. His eyes felt heavy and he wanted to do nothing more than sleep.

“Madam Pomfrey?”

Lily! Severus tugged the robe over his head and stuffed his arms through the sleeves.

“Just a moment, Evans,” Pomfrey said. “Snape is changing.”

There was a pause on the other side of the curtain. “Into what?” she finally said. “A werewolf?”

Severus grinned as much as he didn’t want to. He pretended to hate Lily’s humor but her scribbled notes when the teachers’ backs were turned made him happy through his most boring classes.

When Pomfrey had helped him into a new pair of underwear—he noticed her slip his gray, ripped underwear into the trash bin—she opened the curtain. “Be quick, dear. He needs his rest.”

The stars that exploded in Snape’s head were still there, but they were slower and happier, and he couldn’t feel any pain. Wait a minute…didn’t that mean…?

Snape almost cursed aloud. He hadn’t meant to fall in love with his best friend. That was only supposed to happen to gits like James Potter.

She perched on the edge of his bed. “I’m not going to play Quidditch anymore.”

The stars exploded behind his eyes again and this time it hurt like a polyjuice change. “You’re the only reason I run commentary. You’re going to quit?”

Lily smiled softly. “Maybe your Slytherin team might win if I stop playing against them.”

Severus couldn’t argue with that. “But you love it.”

She hesitated. Severus had known her long enough to recognize she had something deeper on her mind. Something important.

“Does your quitting the team have to do with bloody James Potter?” he snapped.

Her cheeks bloomed like two roses and her voice was strained when she said, “What makes you think that?”

“You don’t deny it.”

She blew her hair off her forehead with a huff. “I don’t like it when you’re angry, Sev.”

He flopped back onto his pillows, suddenly wearied. If he hadn’t been nearly killed with a Bludger, he’d kick Potter’s bum. “Then stop talking about that git like he’s worth something. He hates both of us.”

She turned redder.

“Lily, it’s time for you to go,” Pomfrey said, emerging from a back storage closet. “Severus has a fever and he’s getting too worked up.”

Lily extended her hand and let out a sigh. “I’ll see you later, Sev. Maybe you’ll see reason next time. I’m sorry you’re hurt all the same.”

Severus took her hand and squeezed it. Minutes later, when he fell asleep again, he could still feel the warmth of her hand tingling inside his.

Severus returned to classes a few days later. For a while, he was hailed as a hero, the fascinating Slytherin who took a Bludger to the head. When James Potter heard of Severus’s celebrity status, he started poking fun.

“When Pomfrey prodded your head, did she find an empty skull?”

After Christmas break (where Snape spent a lonely month at Spinner’s End), Potter’s stupid friends joined in. “I’m surprised the Bludger didn’t simply slide off your head with all that grease in your hair.”

By the time O.W.L.s exams rolled around in May, the entire school seemed to have turned against him. Some even blamed Severus for throwing a Bludger at Crabbe. For his part, Crabbe defended Severus. That’s why Severus didn’t understand why Lily was so adamant against him befriending what she labeled the “evil” students.

Sure, they dabbled in Dark Magic but who was Severus to be choosy with his friends? It’s not like he had many besides Lily.

And after the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam, Severus had to question whether Lily was even his friend. Sure, he’d called her Mudblood, the foulest name a wizard could call a witch of Muggle parentage. But what would she have said if James Potter was threatening to take off her underpants?

Actually, he shuddered at the thought of that.

But if Potter had embarrassed her in front of the entire school and someone had come to her rescue, she might have lashed out at the rescuer. It wasn’t Severus’s fault he’d called her a Mudblood. It had slipped out in misdirected anger.

Two days after the incident, when he was sitting in the Great Hall for breakfast, he felt her warm arms wrap around him.

“Severus, I need to talk to you.”

He forked his scrambled eggs into his mouth. “Now?”

Tears welled in her eyes and threatened to spill over her eyelashes. Was she ever gorgeous.

Severus ducked out of the Great Hall. Goyle, one of his Slytherin friends, whooped behind him but Severus chose to ignore it. Lily spun and gave him a dirty look.

Their footsteps, pounding against the stone floor, were the only sound that broke the silence. When they sank onto the steps that led to Slytherin’s dungeons, Lily finally spoke.

“Sev, I’m pregnant.”

The words hit him like the Hogwarts Express at full tilt. He let out a gasp that sounded more like a wheeze. Since he had never touched her—or any girl, come to think of it—it had to have been Potter.

She blinked at him, expecting him to say something.

“You’re not serious,” he finally managed to stammer. “You said you were a…I…I want to marry you.”

The cold air rising from the dungeons suddenly seemed darker and chillier.

“But you can. I’m still a virgin.”

“Virgins don’t get pregnant,” he said with a snort of derision. He was angry, angry that he had, not two weeks ago, defended Lily’s honor against the idiot Potter who said he’d already had ten Gryffindor girls.

She sniffed. “You did know you’re the father, didn’t you? Pomfrey said so when she put the hiding charm over my belly.”

“WHAT?” Snape nearly tumbled down the stairs. “Then why didn’t I get to have any fun?”

Lily flushed. “Severus, stop it.”

“I was waiting for you.” He sounded pleading but he couldn’t make himself tone it down. “I was going to marry you, Lily. I would kill anyone who touched you, so don’t tell me I got you pregnant because--”

Her eyes softened. “You would?”

He wasn’t sure what she was referring to so he chose one. “I want to marry you,” he repeated. Then a rush of anger surged up and he snapped, “So can you stop lying that I impregnated you, because I would certainly remember if I’d ever been with a girl, especially you.”

She flushed again. Snape had to thump the back of his head against the wall to rid it of an inappropriate image of her.

“It didn’t happen like normal, you see? It’s a magical pregnancy. Do you remember when you were in the hospital when you were knocked out by a Bludger?”

He bit his lip without answering.

“When you were in the hospital wing, Pomfrey somehow got your…” She flushed again. “Sperm and--”

“I did NOT--”

“I’m just saying it happened. She was taking care of you, she touched me afterward and I got pregnant.”

Snape felt his lip curl. “Sperm die when they’re exposed to air, any third year would know that. And you need thousands of them to fertilize an egg. And ninety-year-old Madam Pomfrey does not have access to my…” He fell silent, realizing too late that he should probably be just as embarrassed by the subject as Lily.

He started counting swirls on the stairs. When his ears started to cool, he looked up. There were tears in Lily’s eyes and Snape felt himself weakening.

“My parents aren’t going to understand. They’ll think I’ve been fooling around with some boy and then I won’t get to come back to Hogwarts.”

“Tell them--” Snape began fiercely but Lily interrupted.

“I can’t. I’ve already decided to stay at Hogwarts until the birth which will be sometime next month. I’ll just tell my parents classes got out late, they’ll never know.”

Snape felt his lip curling. “And they’re not going to notice a baby how?”

“Please just take off one year, Sev and take care of our baby. I could drop out of school after he turns one and live at Spinner’s End. My parents would think I was at school. They would never have to know. And then after we both finish our sixth and seventh years, we’ll be a real family. At Spinner’s End.”

There was too much to think about. Severus focused on the most important part. “The baby is a boy?”

Lily nodded. She still looked teary-eyed. “He’s going to look like you. Pomfrey saw black hair.”

“What are you going to name him?” Snape snorted. “Hairy?”

Clearly she didn’t get his joke. Her green eyes had gone irritatingly dreamy. “Harry. But not Harold. I don’t like that. Harry Severus Evans.”

“NO! Harry Evans, but NOT Severus. What if Potter has a son? I won’t have Potter’s brat taunting Harry because of his middle name and…” He felt his face turning red with frustration. “…And pantsing him for all of Hogwarts to see.”

Lily laid a hand on his arm. Severus jerked away and leaned instead against the cold stone of the dungeon wall. “I saw Albus Dumbledore looking out the window. He was laughing, too.”

The summer passed slowly but Snape was hard at work. After a long day building Harry’s crib out of scrap lumber, Snape dragged the lawn mower out of the storage shed at Spinner’s End but couldn’t bring himself to do any more work under the hot sun. So the grass grew long around the mower and Snape hid himself inside, preparing for Harry Evans’ arrival. In the evenings, completely exhausted, he would read the dusty, cracked books his father had collected during his days as a university professor.

He had added his own small collection to the shelves that lined the living room: his Hogwarts textbooks, plus his own supplemental reading: Practicing the Dark Arts, Living with the Dark Mark (published only three months ago and flying off the shelves in Knockturn Alley), and Teaching Potions.

On the evening of August the third, he was reading an example situation in the Discipline chapter of Teaching Potions. The book (complete with ridiculous diagrams and imaginary students with stupid names) set up a situation where a student, Muggle-Born Maude, melted a cauldron and described how the professor handled the disaster calmly but professionally.

He had just answered the prompt, what would you do in this situation?—“That’s easy, make Mudblood Maude drink the ruined potion and record the entertaining results”—when the doorbell rang.

He leapt out of his chair, knocking it backwards. The textbook crumpled onto the floor. He knew who it was. He’d been awaiting this new visitor, sometimes awoke at midnight in a sweat. Bottles had been sterilized and lined up on the countertops. The mobile he charmed had jangled and screeched until he crushed it with a frying pan. He had even bought nappies.

He flung the door open and his best friend stood on the doorstep. She looked worn out. Tucked inside her curved arm was a tiny bundle of blankets.

Snape took it from her. He was scared to death but tried not to show it.

“You should cut the grass,” she said. Her smile wobbled.

“Have you talked to your parents?” Snape said in a voice that came out a whisper.

She looked fierce for a moment and then she passed a hand over her forehead. “They’re not to know, Severus. They don’t understand magical pregnancies and if they think I’ve been with a boy, they’ll never let me go back to Hogwarts.”

Snape peeked down into the blankets. All he could see were two squeezed shut eyes and a pinched red face. He thought it might be the ugliest child he’d ever seen.

“Are you sure you didn’t do Goyle?”

Lily glared at him. “I’m going home. I named him Harry Evans like we decided. I didn’t give him a middle name.”

Snape kissed her forehead, Lily whispered, “Thanks for understanding,” and then she shut the door. And Snape was a sixteen-year-old father with a newborn. He poked Harry in the bassinet by his bed and went back to reading Teaching Potions.

Harry woke up mewing like a cat and Snape ignored him, hoping he would go back to sleep. He was reading about how to set up a Potions classroom and the example teacher, Professor Polyjuice, raved about how he moved the desks around depending on the type of potion being brewed. Semicircle arrangements were great for brewing complicated potions where he could rush to stop a catastrophe. Plus, the professor added, without rows of desks to walk through it was easier on the teacher’s back and feet.

Snape snorted. “It would be easier on your back if you didn’t rearrange the desks every bloody day.”

By the time he had drawn his classroom arrangement in the empty box provided in the book—“Idiots in the front so they’ll learn quicker”—Harry’s cries had grown to adult-like screams.

Snape could feel the blood draining from his already pale face. He looked down at the cartoon drawing of Professor Polyjuice. “Shut up. You don’t get them until they’re halfway grown.”

He ran to the kitchen, mixed up a bottle of formula, and skidded into the bedroom. Harry’s face was redder than it had been at first, but at least he looked like a real human now.

He cursed, the same word over and over, like a lullaby for himself before scooping the baby into his arms. He remembered too late that babies couldn’t hold their own heads up. For a sickening moment, he thought his son’s overly large head was going to flop off his neck and onto the floor.

Harry threw his arms and legs out, his entire body shuddering. Snape felt horrible. Then he began to scream again.

Snape forced the bottle into Harry’s mouth. The room fell silent.

Sweat dripped off Snape’s face as he settled into the rocking chair in the corner. He had forgotten to turn on the light and heavy drapes blocked the sunbeams from coming through the grimy windows. It felt like a tomb in there. He hated being a father.

Creak, creak, creak. He rocked until Harry emptied the bottle and went to sleep. Feeling disoriented in the darkness, Snape felt as though he’d been rocking Harry for several lifetimes.

Creak, creak, creak.

He woke up to a whimper. He had fallen asleep in the rocking chair and Harry was still in his arms. What time was it?

He fumbled for the clock on the nightstand. One a.m.

He looked down at Harry who stared cross-eyed at him with bright almond shaped eyes. Lily’s eyes. When Harry let out a single wail, Snape smelled the reason.

“I hate being a father!” he said, throwing the clock to the ground. Harry didn’t say anything. Did magical newborns even talk? He felt guilty all the same. “I didn’t mean anything by it. But did you know your mother was magically impregnated? Of all the ways to get someone pregnant, I had to do it the lamest way possible. Do you realize I haven’t even slept with your mother?”

He remembered to hold Harry’s head up this time as he carried him to the changing table. He whipped off the nappy and pointed his wand at Harry’s bum, realizing as he did so that he knew no spells that related to bodily functions. A few curses, perhaps, but no spells.

In that moment, the image of a redhead sprang to his mind. Not Lily, the one who had caused this mess in the first place, but Mrs. Molly Weasley, a frazzled mum he had met while buying Harry’s nappies. She had been chasing two children down the aisles and was very pregnant with a third. She had pointed out the most absorbent nappies to Snape before declaring that if she had a fourth child, Snape had permission to call her insane. She had forgotten to take her middle child home. The shopkeeper had run after her before returning with the anklebiter. “She lives at the Burrow. I’ll drop him through the Floo Network.”

He had wondered then, Is this what it is like to be a parent? He’d gone home that evening and downed an entire bottle of Firewhiskey. And now he couldn’t stop staring at the green Floo Powder sitting over his fireplace.

Harry started to cry. Snape was scared. This thing seemed to cry all the time; right now, it seemed to be because he was naked. Well, Snape could relate. He’d cried, in private, after Potter had pantsed him in front of the whole school. But while he had stopped crying when Crabbe walked into the common room, Harry seemed content to cry no matter who was around.

He gritted his teeth and finished changing Harry. Just in case, he made another bottle and Harry sucked on it hungrily.

After setting Harry asleep in his bassinet, Snape dropped off to sleep. He was dreaming of Professor Binn’s boring History class when he heard the sound again: like a fire engine with black hair.

His nappy was wet. It was three a.m.

Three hours later, he was hungry again. This time Snape had been dreaming about screaming babies.

He stumbled into the kitchen and mixed another bottle. While Harry slept, he ate breakfast, showered and shaved. He tried not to look at himself in the mirror but he was all too aware of the bags under his eyes.

“I’m sixteen,” he reminded himself, and went back into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. He drank it all and was so jittery, he went out in the yard and mowed the lawn.

By the time evening rolled around, Snape was bored out of his mind with the monotonous routine of feeding, rocking, and changing a stranger that was supposed to be his son. He wondered when paternal love was supposed to kick in. Maybe it didn’t apply to teenage fathers.

He turned his alarm clock off—he wouldn’t need it—and rolled himself and Harry into bed.

Around the same hour as the night before, Harry started crying. Snape woke up, feeling as though pins were stabbing his eyelids. His legs didn’t seem to belong to him. They dragged somewhere of their own accord as he tried to head toward the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

He drank the entire pot and his eyelids started working again.

Harry was still crying when he got back from the kitchen. Snape tried burping him and then he changed his nappy. Afterward he paced back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He wasn’t enjoying it. Sure, the coffee had zinged him and the walking gave him a way to work off the energy, but the coffee also put an enormous amount of pressure on his bladder.

He put Harry in the bassinet and ran to the master bathroom. It was the perfect solution. Yet when he heard Harry scream, his muscles tensed and he found he couldn’t relax enough to go. Maybe that was paternal love kicking in.

When he picked up his son, Harry snuggled still crying against his chest. Snape wondered if bladders could explode.

“Are you hungry, Harry?” he asked.

He put a bottle in Harry’s mouth and Harry started sucking happily. Hallelujah! Snape scrambled to the bathroom. Balancing the bottle against his chest, he managed to keep Harry quiet long enough to relieve himself.

He had just finished when something splashed into the toilet. Harry started screaming and Snape checked for a wild moment to make sure he was still holding onto him. It wasn’t Harry he had dropped, it was the baby bottle, and he was not fishing around in the toilet to get it out.

Harry was screaming in his ear and he was so tired. He was tired of this fathering business. He couldn’t even use the toilet without a little person watching him. Now he’d just wasted an entire bottle of formula and he’d have to make another bottle in the dead of night. He didn’t like this one bit.

He set Harry, still screaming, into the bassinet and stomped over to the fireplace. Throwing Floo Powder into the fireplace, he shouted, “The Burrow!”

Harry screamed louder. Snape could feel himself losing his reserve. He swallowed around a lump that had appeared in his throat.

The kitchen that swam in front of his eyes was dark and empty. “Mrs. Weasley?” he called in desperation.

He heard a crashing sound and then a light flickered on. Mrs. Weasley appeared, hair askew, carrying her lit wand.

“Who are you?”

“Severus Snape. I’m a student at Hogwarts and now I’m a f-f-father.” He stammered the last word but he would not cry. He wouldn’t.

“I remember. You were at Babies ‘R Magic. Is something wrong?”

Harry screamed louder and Snape felt his ears pop. He jumped to his feet scattering ash, and shouted, “Shut up!”

Then he felt someone pushing him then pulling him forward. He let out a choking sob and then fell against something soft and plump. Molly Weasley had stepped through the fireplace into Snape’s home and was murmuring something that sounded admonishing and sympathetic at the same time.

“You mustn’t yet at your son like that, Severus,” she said, rubbing his back. “Shh, shh, it’s hard, isn’t it? There are days I want to wring Bill’s neck when he’s discovered a new naughty word or when Charlie’s drawn on himself with color quills. And you never quite get used to those cries, it always tugs on your heart.”

Snape rubbed his nose against the puffy sleeves of Molly’s robe. “I just want to go to Hogwarts.”

He felt Molly’s shoulders shake and knew she was laughing at him.

“I’m a terrible father. I accidentally dropped Harry’s bottle in the toilet just now.”

“Oh my,” she said, patting his back. “You’re having a rough time of it. Where is Mum?”

Snape simply shook his head.

She let go of him and pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket. “Dry your eyes. I’ll go fetch Harry a new bottle.”

He couldn’t let her do that for him, not when she had a new baby of her own. He tried to protest but either Harry’s cries drowned him out or she chose to ignore him.

He collapsed onto his bed and pulled his pillow close. He would rest until she came back up the stairs. Until then, he would just shut his eyes and think….

Early in the morning, he was jolted awake by Harry’s cries. There was a piece of parchment propped up by his lamp. He opened bleary eyes and read it: “Dear Severus, I’m sorry you haven’t parents to help you through these difficult first months. Mine were a great help during Bill’s first year, so I offer my husband’s and my assistance. Please let Arthur or me know if you need us, you would never be a bother. All the best, Molly.”

Around lunch time, Lily came by to see Harry. Snape had forgotten it was still summer. While Lily cooed over Harry, Snape ditched shaving and showering for a four-hour nap.

The months passed. The summer’s bright sunlight faded into the paler version that peeked through colorful trees. When Harry was four months old, Snape started smiling when he saw him waving his chubby legs. Sometime during the long hours pacing back and forth in an effort to calm Harry, Snape had fallen in love with his son. He wasn’t sure how it happened but it seemed an eternity had passed since he had shouted at Harry to shut up.

After they had struggled through the rough first few months, both of them slept more soundly at night. Snape wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or not but when he picked up Harry, Harry seemed to recognize him and love him in return.

When he asked Molly, she laughed. She had been holding her three-month-old, Percy, at the time and he’d been looking up at her with a soppy grin. “Of course he knows who you are. In spring, he’ll be saying “dada” and your heart will melt all over again.”

Now that Harry could hold his head up and that horrible floppiness had disappeared, Snape could hold Harry on his knee and bounce him up and down. Harry would laugh and Snape couldn’t help joining in.

They were in the middle of this game in late December—Harry was nearly five months old—when there was a knock at the front door.

Snape jumped off the threadbare couch. “Sorry, love, but when you’re my only company, I go a bit insane. Go play by yourself.” He laid Harry on the floor and watched him reach for his favorite rattle.

The doorbell rang.

“I’m coming!” he shouted. “Git.”

He wrenched the door open. The hinges creaked; it had been a while since someone came to visit. Arthur and Molly always came through the fireplace.

Lily stood on the doorstep, holding a trunk.

Snape burst through the doorway. “Let me get that for you, Lil.” He pecked her on the cheek and she turned away.

“Snape, I don’t know what to say.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Snape smirked. This was probably the first time he had spoken the truth when he said those words. “I’ve missed you.”

“Don’t. People have been murdered in the streets. Muggles, too. They say a Dark Lord is taking over the wizarding world.”

Snape thought back to the days at Hogwarts when he, Mulciber, Crabbe, and Goyle talked about joining with Lord Voldemort. They’d practiced the dark curses they knew. Snape had even written his own, including Sectumsempra which he’d used against Potter, and Levicorpus, which Potter had used against him.

“I’ve been busy changing nappies and giving baths, Lil. Do you really think I had time to murder people?”

“I don’t know.”

Snape scratched his greasy head. “Of course you don’t know, what was I thinking? You haven’t been here to see anything.”

She whipped around and said hotly, “I’ve been at Hogwarts! I have to finish my education. I didn’t think you wanted to finish Hogwarts anyway. Weren’t you set to help the Dark Lord carry out his plans?”

Snape didn’t say anything, only stared at the wall. In the dark nights when Harry wouldn’t stop crying, he had thought of this moment, the day he and Lily would be reunited. In his waking dreams, he had seen Lily’s flaming red hair streaming out behind her in the wind, her robes billowing, and her face glowing with the happiness of seeing the person she’d grown to love as more than a friend. Right now, Lily’s face glowed, but the way her eyes roamed the room, Snape knew it wasn’t he she was seeking out. He felt betrayed.

“Harry!” she squealed. The baby looked up and beamed.

It just wasn’t fair.

When the snow started to fall thicker, Lily went back to Hogwarts. To keep up the pretense against her parents, she had only visited Snape the one time to see how big Harry was getting. She promised she would send money to buy him more nappies and outfits, and at the end of January, a package arrived in the mail full of Galleons.

“Guess what, Harry?” Snape said dryly. “Mum sent just enough for Dad’s birthday to go to Hogsmeade and get sloshed with his old friends.”

He knew he was a terrible example when Harry scooted toward him and said something that sounded suspiciously like, “Sloshed.”

Things got even better when, just after he pocketed the money, Arthur Weasley stepped through the fireplace with his children following behind. He coughed a bit, dusted ash out of Charlie’s hair, and smiled.

“Morning, Severus. You’re seventeen today, aren’t you?”

“Tomorrow.”

Arthur flapped his hands and made a shushing sound. “This is the weekend. You don’t want to celebrate your birthday when all your friends are in school, do you? I already told Molly I was coming to get Harry.”

Snape felt faint. He gripped a chair to steady himself. “You mean--?”

“Take the whole day off.”

He looked at Harry, having a sneaking suspicion that his six-month-old had somehow set this up. Harry gurgled and a stream of saliva drooled out of his mouth. Snape could have sworn he said, “Say hi to Mulciber for me.”

Arthur set up a Portkey for Snape, who couldn’t Apparate yet. Arthur promised to teach him over the next few days.

The old gang sat at a corner table in their favorite Hogsmeade pub: Mulciber, Crabbe, Goyle, and Avery. Avery was tracing his name in the thick dust on the tabletop but turned beady eyes toward Snape when he shuffled through the door.

“Where you been, Sev?”

“With your cunning powers of observation, it’s a wonder you even noticed I was missing.” Snape smirked and slid into a chair between Mulciber and Crabbe.

Avery glared as though he was sure he had been insulted but not sure what to say in return.

Mulciber clapped him on the shoulder. “Good to have you back. The Mudblood said you were sick.”

Snape stared at Mulciber for a long moment. Blood pounded in his ears and he wanted nothing more than to throw the table over and watch Mulciber be crushed beneath it.

Mulciber looked to the others for support. Goyle guffawed in embarrassment and then his face turned red.

“But everyone said that’s what you called her when she and Potter strung you up by your ankles.”

Snape shifted in his chair. He wasn’t going to talk about that. “She got pregnant with my son. I left Hogwarts to raise him.”

Avery looked sick.

“That’s how the rumors go, but Dumbledore said absolutely not,” Crabbe piped up.

For a long time, no one spoke. Sunlight tried to shine through the filth on the windows but only a thin beam came through. Then Snape said, “What’s that on your arm?” For he had noticed a black tattoo on Avery’s bicep.

Avery flexed his muscle. “I got it two weeks ago,” he said proudly. “Show him yours, boys.”

The others pulled back the sleeves of their robes to reveal identical tattoos. Snape was envious. He’d missed far too much while he was holed away with Harry at Spinner’s End.

“I imagine that was your idea, Goyle.”

Goyle grinned stupidly. Then Mulciber must have stomped on his toes because he yelped and stared out the window while Mulciber explained.

“We got ‘em from the Dark Lord. You know, V-V--”

“I know who he is,” Snape said shortly. “Evans said you were stupid to--”

“Enough about Evans!” Avery roared, spit flying from his mouth. “Evans and Potter have somehow defied the Dark Lord twice. If everything had gone to plan, they would be dead.”

Snape stopped breathing. Lily dead? He rose from the table, feeling as though he had lost control of this conversation. “Evans is going to be my wife,” he said. “So you can tell the Dark Lord to move his attentions to Potter and Longbottom and those stupid Gryffindors who refuse to accept the Dark Lord’s power. But not Lily.”

Crabbe drew in a breath. “What about you then? Do you refuse to accept the Dark Lord’s power?”

“This has nothing to do--” Snape began but Crabbe cut him off.

“The Dark Lord knows about your talents. He’s seeking someone…brave to brew potions that would help our cause.”

Snape returned to his chair, breathing heavily. He thought of Harry, his thin face and button nose, and the way he waved goodbye when Snape left the room. Harry needed a protector, he needed someone who could ensure his safety. Someone like Voldemort. The stupid Minister of Magic certainly didn’t have a handle on the job.

Besides, Snape had been stuck in his house for six months with the Weasleys as his only companions. He’d found himself so bored one day that he poked his head through the fireplace to have a conversation about dragon hide with seven-year-old Charlie. Granted, the boy had an uncommon interest in dragons and helped Snape invent a new potion but that was beside the point. Snape needed an outlet.

“When can I meet him?”

Mulciber exchanged a look with Avery. Even Crabbe and Goyle, stupid as they were, knew something was amiss. Goyle stopped twiddling with the moth-eaten curtains.

“You—you can’t just meet him. You have to prove yourself to him. Give him information or something.” Mulciber grinned. “We earned our stripes.”

Snape’s stomach turned over; he knew exactly what they had done to earn a position in the Dark Lord’s inner circle. Yet at the same time, a strange feeling of envy came over him. His growth had been stunted when Lily gave him a child, while his friends had grown up. They had done things only adults had the right to do…and Snape still felt like a child. They were set to graduate from Howarts next year. Did he really expect them to wait another two years for him to graduate also?

It wasn’t until the beginning of June that Voldemort agreed to see Snape. By then, Snape was hearing reports of mysterious deaths in Muggle villages and knew the Death Eaters were the cause. Snape pretended not to hear the reason: that the Death Eaters were trying to punish Muggle-born wizards and witches like Lily. He had doubts about the Death Eaters but he couldn’t deny they had strength. If he had been a Death Eater last year, Potter might never have had the nerve to pants him.

After Snape met with Voldemort, he Apparated back to Spinner’s End breathing heavily. He had pleaded with Voldemort to let him become a Death Eater, offering his talents in Potions.

Voldemort had the nerve to pat him on the head. “Come back when you have something better. You haven’t even taken your N.E.W.T.s yet.”

Fuming, Snape unlocked his front door. Arthur stood at the foot of the stairs. Snape looked around the room, appalled. A radio warbled children’s songs, blankets were strewn as tents across all the furniture, and ash floated through the air. His Floo Powder container was in pieces on the floor and the powder ground into the carpet. Four ropes were tied to the ceiling fan which was whipping around at top speed.

“What is that?” Snape started to ask but suddenly Bill Weasley leapt off the stairs toward the rope.

“Whee!”

Arthur laughed and pointed to Bill zooming around in circles on the ceiling fan. “I used a partial Levitation charm. The first time was a disaster. I was—I mean to say, he was too heavy, and the fan fell off the ceiling.”

Bill was speaking every time he whirled around and his words came out in short bursts. “Dad—broke—it—but—I—helped—him—fix—it.”

Snape forced his breath out through his teeth and Arthur had the decency to look abashed.

“The kids were playing,” he tried to explain. “We didn’t have much to do after Harry and Percy went to bed. My kids don’t go to sleep as early as yours.”

Snape concentrated on breathing.

“So would you like a try?”

Snape felt anger billowing in his chest. Hurriedly, he pulled some money out of a pocket of his robes. “This is for watching Harry. Now get out of my house.”

Arthur’s smile faded. “There’s no need to use that tone with me. I’m a friend.”

“Oh really?” Snape curled his lip. “Then start cleaning up my house.”

Arthur nodded but his willingness didn’t matter anymore. Snape’s anger was growing. It felt like a ship tossing around inside him and he couldn’t hold it back anymore than he could stop the surging ocean waves.

Then Harry began to cry.

Snape let out a string of curse words directed toward Arthur. “Did you even put him to bed?”

Without waiting for an answer, he stormed to Harry’s room. Harry sat up in his crib, screaming. The curtains were drawn back and moonlight shone bright through the window.

Snape squeezed his wand which was tucked in his pocket. “No one can sleep with moonlight blazing in his face.”

“I’m sorry he’s awake. It’s hard to have a child who wakes up during the night.”

“It’s hard? It’s bloody impossible to have a child.”

“I think you’re tired, Severus. Things will look better in the morning.”

Snape threw a rattle into the crib so Harry would stop crying. “I didn’t even want him.”

“Don’t say that. You’re overreacting.”

“You want me to overreact?” Snape wasn’t sure how, but his voice had dropped to a sinister quiet. He sounded older and more dangerous.

Arthur’s face froze with fear. “Severus, please…”

His wand was out and and green light—the killing curse—flashed from it. Severus wasn’t even sure why he was angry but it felt good. Harry fell against his crib mattress and sobbed into his fists.

“Don’t hurt him!” Arthur yelled. His face, deathly pale, glowed in the moonlight.

Snape threw his wand against the wall. “My father broke twelve bones in my body. You think I would try to hurt him? I was trying to kill you!”

Arthur’s face twisted. “I’ll be checking up on Harry, don’t think I won’t.”

“You said you were my friend.”

Arthur scrambled down the stairs and soon after, a whooshing sound came from downstairs. Charlie was protesting but Snape couldn’t make out the words. Then a crack—and the Weasleys were gone.

Snape yelled sounds that didn’t quite turn into actual words. Then he fell onto the floor, sobbing into his fists.

He didn’t remember when he stopped crying, but he somehow fell asleep. When he woke up, it was morning. He looked around to see Harry curled in the corner of his crib, snuffling.

“I think it’s time for Dad to send you off to stay with Mum for a while.”

Harry’s eyes opened at the sound of Snape’s voice. He blinked at Snape before breaking into a grin.

“If you’re smiling at me, then you must have an atrocious memory,” Snape said sourly, reaching into the crib. “I don’t think Arthur will be coming around to visit any time soon. Unless of course it’s to check that I’m not hurting you.”

Harry reached up and grabbed Snape’s nose. Snape swatted his hand away.

“Leave me alone, love.” He stared out the window. He was afraid to look into his son’s forgiving eyes knowing those same eyes had watched Snape direct the Avada Kedavra at Arthur. “I didn’t mean it enough to kill him. That’s why it didn’t work.”

He chanced a glance at Harry and immediately his eyes welled with tears. This was too much responsibility. He was only seventeen and a virgin at that. What made him able to take care of a child and balance the rest of his life at the same time?

He had to give Harry up at least for the weekend so he could calm down. He wouldn’t turn into his father. He refused to hit and yell at his own child no matter how angry he got.

They Apparated just outside of the Hogwarts grounds. After tucking Harry into a baby backpack, he strolled through the open gates.

Four students lounged under a tree. Snape’s heart caught in his throat. For a moment, he thought they were Potter’s gang. Then one of them rolled over and he recognized the Ravenclaw scarves.

“Ten points from Ravenclaw,” he muttered, getting a giggle from Harry. He lowered his voice and straightened his back. “Detention Saturday night, my office. I do not take cheek from anyone. Not even you, Potter.”

Harry giggled again and banged his little fists against Snape’s back.

“Severus!”

Snape turned to see Albus Dumbledore striding across the lawn. His beard had grown at least a foot since Snape last saw him. Right now, the white hair was tucked into his belt.

“Lily explained what happened.” Dumbledore’s forehead creased and he looked very stern. “When will you be returning to school?”
“This coming September. I brought Harry today to see his mum.”

Dumbledore opened his mouth then closed it again. Snape stared hard at him and Dumbledore tried again. “Lily isn’t the first student to be with child during her school years. But there has to be a certain bit of decorum involved. We can’t allow students to carry babies around Hogwarts. We’ll have others believing we condone this sort of behavior.”

“I’ve seen you condone quite a few behaviors, usually involving James Potter and Sirius Black.”

Dumbledore’s face turned pink. “Severus, that simply isn’t true…”

“In 1931, the Headmaster denied access to a werewolf student, but you allow one to roam on the grounds.”

“I understand your anger, Severus,” said Dumbledore calmly. “You were nearly attacked by Mr. Lupin and I regret that.”

“You regret it? What other behaviors have you condoned and even encouraged?” Harry started to squirm on Snape’s back.

Dumbledore squinted up at the sky. “It’s too warm out here. Come into my office and we’ll share some biscuits and tea as friends.”

“Friends?”

“You’ve put me in an unsual predicament, Severus. You return no longer a student. What can I do?”

“You can admit to what you let me suffer here at Hogwarts. That’s all I want.”

Dumbledore’s blue eyes twinkled. “Is that really all you would have me say?”

“Yes,” Snape said harshly.

“I beg to differ, if only because I’m a belligerent old man. I rather think you expect me to feel an amount of pain for letting you be bullied under my nose.”

Tears sprang to Snape’s eyes and he blinked angrily, cursing the sun. Dumbledore was staring penetratingly at him. “I apologize for what you went through. Yet often times of pain are opportunities for growth.”

Snape scowled at the ground. “That’s not what you agreed to say.”

“I wasn’t aware I agreed to anything. I think we both agree on one thing: that causing me pain to alleviate yours would only make matters worse.”

“No,” Snape said, clenching his fists. “I want you to tell me what you did wrong.”

“In that case, I will have to decline.” Dumbledore started toward the Ravenclaws under the tree.

Snape pointed his wand at Dumbledore’s back. Levicorpus, he thought.

There was a crash of sound and lights and suddenly Snape felt his feet flip out from under him. Through the folds of his robe draped over his head, Snape heard a smattering of laughter.

“Shield charm,” one of the Ravenclaws said.

“I apologize for the inconvenience, Severus,” Dumbledore said. “It was only a matter of reflex. I was a Seeker in my days at Hogwarts, you know.”

As Snape struggled to right himself, a weight lifted off his back and a thump sounded on the ground. Snape’s stomach nearly dropped out through his mouth.

“Harry!”

In a blink, Snape’s feet returned to the ground. He scooped up Harry who had somehow landed on his bum. Dumbledore held out a hand and Snape spat toward him.

“Is this my punishment for getting a student pregnant, Albus?” he yelled, laying stress on Dumbledore’s first name. “Because I never touched Lily Evans.”

Then they swept away, nearly running to the gates where Snape twirled on his heel and Apparated home.

The Weasleys came by on Tuesday after Arthur got off work. Molly carried a cake as a peace offering and whispered her apologies. Arthur was smiling broadly after discovering a Muggle invention he called the “fellytone.”

“Imagine, you can hear someone’s voice across town and you don’t even have to get ash on your clothes.”

“We had a felly—a telephone when I was growing up,” Snape said, unimpressed.

Arthur scooped Harry off the floor. “Harry, I got to try out a fellytone!”

Harry laughed.

“He got dropped on his head on Saturday,” Snape said. “So excuse his thinking things are funny when they’re not.”

Arthur winked at Snape. “We’ve missed you, Severus.”

Molly brushed imaginary wrinkles out of Snape’s clothes. “Let me fix you some tea.”

“No, I’ll get it.”

While they waited for the kettle to boil (Snape was afraid to take out his wand after pulling his wand on Arthur), they sat at the kitchen table and ate toast.

“When does Lily get out of school?” Molly asked.

“We went to visit her yesterday but I lost my temper with Dumbledore and we left.”

Molly’s eyes grazed Snape’s face. “Well, let’s not get into that,” she said briskly. Then a soft smile played around her lips. “I bet Lily was disappointed your meeting was postponed.”

The way she said “meeting” made Snape flush.

“Oh, come now, Severus, don’t be so embarrassed. Surely that was your intent.”

Snape busied himself with the tea kettle which was now whistling. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Molly and Arthur exchanged smirks.

“I wouldn’t be so nosy if it weren’t for the baby,” Molly continued. “But since you have a baby, you know what goes into making one…”

Snape returned to the table and poured hot water into the Weasley’s cups. “Lily is a virgin and I don’t want to--”

He was interrupted by loud laughter.

“Dear, if she’s calling herself a virgin--”

“It was a magical pregnancy.”

Arthur wiggled his eyebrows a bit. “I bet it was.”

Snape rolled his eyes and returned the kettle to the stove. “I was in the hospital wing while Pomfrey mended my head. Come nine months later, Lily told me Pomfrey had touched Lily after taking care of me and that got Lily pregnant.”

“But--” stammered Arthur. “But you can’t have airborne pregnancies. That’s absurd. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Lily said it was magical. That’s how it happened.”

The looks Molly and Arthur exchanged this time were much more sober. Then Arthur spoke. “It seems Lily was fooling around with someone else and needed a person to blame.”

“She was a virgin. She even cried when Potter called her a tart and I made up a new curse right then: Sectumsempra.”

Molly cleared her throat. “I admire your zeal. Imagine creating a new curse at sixteen. But who is this Potter?”

“James Potter, the stupid git. He’s always chatting up Lily and she’s made it clear she’s not…” He trailed off when he saw the Weasleys giving each other meaningful looks. “Not Potter. She’s a virgin and she didn’t shag Potter. Don’t you think Harry looks just like me?”

When the days got long, Severus thought of Lily. She visited some during the summer. Lily and he went on long walks with Harry tucked in his stroller. On Harry’s first birthday, Harry wouldn’t touch his cake so Lily smashed it in his face. He came up blinking, unsure what to think. Snape laughed and snapped pictures while Harry and Lily posed. He had the picture sitting by his bed and he smiled every time he saw it.

Snape asked her to marry him one day when the leaves were turning red and orange and brown. Lily was about to go back to school after both she and Snape decided it would be best for her to finish her education since Harry was accustomed to staying at Spinner’s End with Snape. Her answer was, “Sev, you’re my best friend.”

It wasn’t until later that Snape realized she had never answered. Maybe it was because he hadn’t given her a ring. He vowed to buy one before she came back to visit.

She didn’t come back until the end of the school year, a month before Harry turned two. Raindrops clung to her eyelashes and when she pulled her hat off, strands of hair stuck straight up.

“You look beautiful,” Snape said and he meant it.

She scoffed and tossed her coat over a chair. “I brought chess. Do you want to play?”

Harry was in bed so Snape agreed. They had only moved their pieces three times when Snape contested Lily’s move.

“That’s just because you want to win, you horrible person!”

Snape laughed. “That’s the best insult you can come up with?”

Lily launched herself at Snape and started tickling him. Snape gasped for breath, unable to breathe between belly laughs. He fell off the couch onto the floor and Lily rolled with him.

He was on top and he could smell her sweet breath and her perfumed hair. His heart pounded in his throat. Leaning forward, he said, “You’re going to marry me anyway.”

Lily’s eyes grew serious. “No, Severus! It isn’t right.”

Snape slid his hand under her neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” He leaned forward. He would only kiss her, he wouldn’t even let his hands stray. But she struggled away, revulsion in her eyes.

Snape dropped to the floor beside her, pretending he had wanted nothing more than to be staring up at the ceiling with her. A hot flush spread over his face when she looked over at him.

She averted her gaze and gathered her chess board and pieces. “I have to go. My parents will worry. I’ll come get Harry at the end of August and you can go to school.”

That night, Snape took Harry out of his crib and put him in bed with him. It made him not quite as lonely to feel soft skin against his and know someone loved him.

When the shadows of the early morning stretched over the ceiling, Snape was still lying awake. Harry slumbered beside him, sucking the tips of his fingers. In the rosy glow of the morning, he could imagine Lily sleeping beside him, her red hair fanned out around her head. She would sit up, smile at him and offer to start a pot of coffee.

He rolled onto his stomach to try to go to sleep.