He was about to be kissed. While the thought in itself should have warmed his usually reserved heart, he had to admit that he was dreading the kiss slightly. His dark eyes quickly glanced to his left, and he saw the large plastered on grins on his adoptive sons' faces as they sat side-by-side at one of the student tables. No doubt, Draco and Harry just loved the fact that he, Severus Snape, the head of Slytherin, was about to do this in front of everyone in the Great Hall.

Looking away from his two sons who deserved years of detention for this—oh, he was rather convinced that Draco had helped Minerva win that bet—he glanced at the happy little girl in his arms. Staring back at him with pure excitement were dark eyes identical to his. However, her dark eyes were all aglow with unspoken happiness. She was positively bouncing in his arms with anticipation with her crimson lips all puckered out.

He couldn't believe it. Harry had corrupted his little girl. No, no, Harry and Draco had corrupted his Angel. And for what, one might wonder? For what purpose could possibly be there that would make Severus Tobias Snape, the most feared professor in all of Hogwarts, be reduced to accepting a kiss from his innocent little girl that those two sixth-years corrupted? After all, one would assume that he'd enjoy having his little girl kiss him and tell him that she loved him. However, that was only the case if she didn't look like that!

"Severus, it's not that bad," Minerva McGonagall, head of Gryffindor, said with a wide grin. "And you did claim that if Slytherin lost, you'd do this." She then folded her arms. "Are you going back on your claim now?"

Internally, he seethed. How dare she throw his words back in his face! After all, his chances were rather good this week. He hadn't thought he'd lose. Thanks to Longbottom and his amazing potions skills yesterday, Harry was unable to play in the annual Quidditch match of Slytherin vs. Gryffindor. Without Harry, he was rather convinced that he'd win the bet against the infernal Gryffindor. The odds were in his favor. That was until he saw the blond Slytherin Seeker not even trying to catch the bloody snitch. No, no, instead Draco was performing stunts on his broom.

"Daddy, you love me, don't you?" the little girl with blond ringlets asked sucking on her bottom lip rather cutely as she pouted.

He wanted to reply that it was obvious he loved her. She was his little girl after all. However, she looked like that, though. It wasn't her fault. It was Harry's fault. He knew it was that Gryffindor's fault. He just knew it was Harry's fault that his little girl looked like that. He then sighed heavily.

Maybe he should just get it over with so they could all get on with their lives. After all, Minerva was right. It wasn't that bad. It could always be worse. She could look like—he quickly shuddered to rid himself of that particularly horrifying image. Drawing in a deep breath, he leaned in towards his little girl, ignoring the Gryffindor-themed face paint that covered her face.

His little angel kissed his cheek before pulling back shyly. Her dark lashes quickly hid her big brown puddles. She took after him in more ways than his temper. She, too, didn't like having unnecessary attention drawn on her. That attention was thanks to her older brothers, Harry and Draco.

"Do you still love me, Daddy?" she whispered.

"Yes, my Angel, I still love you," he replied quietly.

"Even though, I look like this?" she asked with her bottom lip trembling again.

"Even though you look like that," he responded before kissing her forehead.

"And do you still love me, my Dark Prince?" another voice added to the mix.

His eye instantly twitched at the question. He refused to glance at the witch. It was bad enough the boys had corrupted his daughter, but to include his wife in on this was just crossing a line. His gaze remained fixed on his daughter's Gryffindor war painted face. Had he not been a skilled Occlumens and the head of Slytherin, he'd have whimpered when he felt the gentle hand turning his face towards her.

Crimson and gold streaked her once long dark curly hair. He drew in a breath. It was only a color-changing spell. It wasn't permanent. Her face mirrored their daughter's, unfortunately, in its coloring. Again, it was only temporary. It'd wash off later, and oh, I'd make damn sure it'd wash off. Otherwise, Harry and Draco are never flying, going to Hogsmeade, or seeing their friends again. His eyes then caught the tattoo embedded on her upper arm, 'I heart Gryffindors.' He closed his eyes and attempted to count to a hundred. It was just a simple glamour. It wasn't real. He only got to two before he lost all control of his temper.

"Minerva," he growled in a very low voice. It was just an octave above his sexy voice. "I am well aware that I wagered I'd kiss both my wife and daughter in front of the entire school body as they looked like Gryffindors if Gryffindor won, but this is too much. You go too far, McGonagall!"

"Severus," his wife softly said as she gently laid a hand on his shoulder. "It's fine."

He didn't respond. He only glared at McGonagall. They wagered some crazy things over the years. In fact, they once wagered that the loser had to eat one of Dumbledore's lemon drops every time a person said petrified. For McGonagall, it was the year the Basilisk was petrifying everyone.

Snape had always won. Until now that was. He was absolutely convinced that there was no way that Slytherin would lose. It was why he had bet such a thing in the first place. He then sighed. He could get over kissing Angel in her Gryffindor colors, but Aurora was a different animal. This was his wife! He couldn't get away with just pecks on the cheek with her as he had with Angel. No, he was pretty much doomed to kiss her on her golden colored lips with painted crimson Gryffindor letters.

"Severus," Aurora said softly. "Please…"

He hated it. He hated all of it. He hated that he had gotten himself into this situation and that he had to do this. He glanced down at the floor, working up the courage. It was her fault. It was always Aurora's fault along with Harry and Draco's faults, but it was never his daughter's fault. She was his angel, his savior. He drew in a deep breath and clenched his teeth to keep from screaming two words that started with the letters 'A' and 'K,' but it didn't help, though. He still screamed the words.

"A KISS," he snarled death gripping his ebony wand before forcefully pulling Aurora into his arms. His angry lips pressed against hers in attempts to remove all that nasty Gryffindor filth that the curse left behind. She was his wife for Merlin's sake! She may not have been the exact role model to all of the Slytherins, but she was the head of Slytherin's wife! She was his wife! He had made her a Slytherin, well, not really. He then sighed before resting his forehead against hers. He was an idiot. Never again would he bet on a sure thing because there was no such thing where he was concerned.