Echoes

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Echoes

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Chapter six: Finite Incantatum

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Bag slung over his shoulder and baby in his arms, Harry made his way down to the dungeons. He had twenty minutes before Defence Against the Dark Arts would start.

Sandra gurgled happily in his arms and he smiled at her. It was odd - since he got her in his arms yesterday, he'd smiled more times than he had in the past year.

Something missing...

He didn't know what it was, but the feeling only grew stronger, especially as he watched Sandra. Smooth skin, big black eyes mixed with green and black hair. When he looked at her, he thought he could se similarities to himself, although he shook that off as ridiculous. She looked like her father - it was Snape's eyes and hair she had inherited, and her mother's skin and features, whoever she was.

He knocked on the door and Snape opened it.

"Granger you're -" he stopped in mid-sentence. "Harry."

The Boy Who Lived wondered when the Potions Master had begun calling him 'Harry' rather than 'Potter'.

"'Mione was a bit busy," he hurried up to explain, "So she asked me to bring Sandra to you. I - I hope that was all right."

Snape raised an eyebrow at him.

"Dada!" Sandra squealed happily when she saw him and stretched out his arms towards him. Snape took his young daughter in his arms and hugged her closely. It had been a lonely night without her.

"Have you been good?" he asked her.

"Gaa," Sandra said and hugged him back.

"Has she eaten?"

"She ate oatmeal, a bit of cheese and some milk for breakfast, sir," Harry replied. He couldn't help but add, "Although I think that most of the oatmeal ended up in my hair."

It sounded as though Snape snorted, but Harry didn't think that Snape could make such a sound, so he signed it off to imagination. "She has a tendency to be a little... messy," Snape said, clearly amused.

Silence fell. Harry felt Snape's gaze on him, but didn't meet it. The whole situation was strange, he thought. Strange, but... right?

Like Sev's hair...

He wondered yet again where that thought had come from last night.

The silence stretched out until Harry squirmed and said, "Well, I need to get to class. It was - If you need a babysitter for her again, I'd be... I'd be glad to do it."

He looked up at Snape, who watched him with an unreadable face. For a second, their gazes met and again, Harry felt the sense of being... complete. He was about to turn and run away from the scene when he heard Snape.

"Harry," he said slowly, sounding like it took him a lot of courage to say the name. "Please come inside."

~~~~~

Hermione Granger

When I first saw Professor Snape with a baby on his chest, it looked very strange to me. I had had almost a month to get used to the thought, but it was still an odd sight. Professor Snape, whom I, together with most of Hogwarts' non-Slytherin population, had detested for most of my time at the school. He plays by favourites, he's nasty to just about everyone and he can be downright cruel to students like Neville.

To have this - this git, as Ron would say, cradle a baby to his chest like it was the most precious thing on earth... It was weird.

Malfoy and I were allowed into the room when Madame Pomfrey had fixed Snape up and the baby had been cleaned.

Now, I'm not going to say that she was the cutest thing on the planet, because she wasn't. Newborn babies are not cute. They are wrinkly like a hundred-year-old and their skin is red and blotchy. Still, I had to admit that the child before me was a miracle. Professor Snape, our Potions Master, had carried a child through pregnancy, almost full term (Sandra was born two weeks early).

Malfoy looked at the baby in complete awe. I wondered how many babies he'd had to deal with in his lifetime - probably about as few as I have.

The Professor looked exhausted, his skin even more pale than normal and he had dark circles beneath his eyes. Still, he seemed happy; there was even a small smile on his lips as he watched the baby. He was feeding her milk from a bottle, with Remus helping to keep it in place.

"What are you going to call her?" Malfoy asked, bending down to get a closer look at the little bundle.

"Sandra," Snape replied. "Sandra Mirari Snape."

"Cool," Malfoy said and touched Sandra, his hands shaking as he first put a finger on her. "She's tiny."

"Yes," said Remus, "But she is perfectly healthy. Ten toes, ten fingers, two eyes..."

"A cute little nose that looks nothing like yours," Malfoy said and winked at Snape. The new father growled at him. Malfoy turned to me. "Granger, come look."

Surprised, I walked up to them. Malfoy was being nice to me? This baby certainly changed things.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," Malfoy said. "I'm not going to be nice to you in public, I promise."

I rolled my eyes. Okay, things hadn't changed.

~~~~~

Severus closed the door behind Harry, closing his eyes briefly while Harry had his back to him. His heart was beating a hole in his chest and he wondered again what in the world he was doing.

He set Sandra down on the soft carpet and handed her a few stuffed animals to play with. She began playing, forgetting the grown-ups in the room.

"Was there something you needed to talk to me about, Professor?" Harry asked, confusion clearly written on his face.

Severus found himself tongue-tied, something that didn't happen very often. He wondered where to start. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many things that should be explained - and there were so many reasons why Harry would never want to see him again after today.

"Sir?"

Harry woke him from his line of thoughts again.

"Harry," he began, deciding that he would have to take the chance of Harry hating him. If he didn't tell him, Granger surely would and that would be even worse. "There is something I need to tell you."

The Boy Who Lived looked worried and Severus found himself wondering whether it was because of the words he'd just uttered, or because of the tone he was using. He never called Harry by his first name; it was always 'Potter'.

"This is about Sandra, isn't it?" Harry asked.

Severus looked at him, a slight frown appearing. He carefully kept his usual scowl off his face; he didn't want Harry to think that he was angry. It would have helped, he thought, if he'd been better looking, but he'd have to do with what he had.

"Sort of," he replied. "She is part of it."

"There is something between her and me," Harry said. "I don't know what it is, but she... She makes me feel... something." He looked puzzled about his own feelings.

Severus knew that if the memory charms he'd put on Harry were breaking down then it was definitely time to tell him everything. He wondered what the best way to tell him would be, and wished that he were better at conversation.

"She's your daughter," he said finally.

Too blunt! his mind screamed at him. Too much, you should have started off with something else, you shouldn't have said it like that...

He was aware that Harry was staring at him. Then his gaze moved to Sandra.

"She's my what?" he asked, eyes wide. Stammering, he continued, "But - no, it's not possible... You're a... and I've never..."

He blushed bright red and looked down at the carpeted floor.

"Harry, please sit down," Severus asked him. Harry did and Severus took out his wand.

"Finite Incantatum."

~~~~~

Harry Potter

The war was raging and all around me, people were dying. So far, none of the dead were any of my friends, but it was just a matter of time. We all knew it. Several of my classmates had already received black owls from their parents, telling them that some family friend or relative had died.

It was a Saturday night in September. The Gryffindor common room was crammed with people, since we weren't allowed to be outside other than when we were walking to class. The rules were back to the ones we'd had in my second year - we were only allowed outside in company of a Headboy or girl, a Prefect, or a teacher.

This evening, someone suddenly pulled out Butterbeer from out of nowhere. I still have no idea where they got it from, since the rules had been in place since the start of school and there would be no Hogsmeade weekends until Voldemort had been defeated. Still, as I knew better than most - it was possible to get to Hogsmeade without anyone noticing.

When they offered me a glass of the stuff, I gladly accepted it.

I was tired. I had been fighting against Voldemort since my first year at Hogwarts and the war had raged since the end of my fourth year. Now I was in my sixth.

I hoped the Butterbeer would take me away from reality; I didn't want to face it. I don't know how many glasses I downed that night, but it had to be a lot.

It was sometime around midnight when I got the wonderful idea to get my Invisibility Cloak and leave the Gryffindor tower. I hadn't been out for a night walk since school started and since I was, by then, very drunk, I thought it would be safe.

I managed to sneak up to my room and get the cloak without anyone noticing that I was gone. It helped that everyone else in the common room was just as drunk as I was.

I can't remember my walk through the castle at all. I must have been very lucky that night, since I didn't walk into any of the teachers, or the caretaker, Argus Filch. Normally, I would encounter at least one of them. Maybe the teachers were being more careful now too.

I know that I had a goal: Snape's quarters.

I'd developed a crush on my Potions Professor during my fifth year. When I returned for my sixth year, my feelings had only grown stronger, but as long as I was sober, I never did anything to act on those feelings. I didn't dare. The thing about alcohol is that, at least for me, my worries go out the door and I no longer understand what it was I was so afraid of. That's what had happened now, and that is why I suddenly found myself by the door to Snape's room.

I knocked, not even thinking about the fact that Snape would most likely have me expelled from school for being out at night, rather than welcome me with open arms.

The door opened and a sleepy Snape stood there. He was only wearing boxers. Me, being drunk, only thought: Yum.

I snuck in, hid beneath my cloak and waited until Snape had closed the door behind him again. He walked back to the bed, his pale skin reflecting in the moonlight and he crawled underneath the sheets. I followed him over there, but waited to get into the bed until he was asleep again. Then I crawled underneath the sheets with him and kissed him.

He tasted of spices and perhaps of alcohol, although that could have been just me.

And he kissed me back.

Despite how drunk I was, I was suddenly scared that he would pull away suddenly, stare at me and call me a freak, so I kissed him harder. His arms circled around my waist, his hands starting to travel over my body. I moaned under his touch.

"Severus..." I breathed.

He froze. "Potter?" he asked, opening his eyes.

I lay perfectly still in his arms as he regarded me with those black pools. "Yes?" I squeaked.

"What are you doing in my bed?"

I thought it was strange that he didn't sound angry.

"Um..." I mumbled. I wanted to get back to what we'd been doing up until then. His hands roaming my body... I could feel the result of those hands already... Since I was drunk, I came to the conclusion that the only way for us to get back into what I wanted to do was to kiss him again. So I did.

He pressed closer, his lean body fitting together with mine and a moan escaping his lips as I started exploring his mouth with my tongue.

"No, Potter, we shouldn't," he said, his voice thick with sudden arousal.

"Yes, we should," I said and plunged back in.

I was in for the best night of my life, but when the morning came, I would no longer remember it.

~~~~~

To be continued...