Dastardly Schemes and Drastic Measures

What Does Quidditch Have To Do With It?

"Why am I here, again?" Severus Snape asked, more rhetorically than not.

Unfortunately, Hermione Granger had a nasty habit of answering rhetorical questions. "Does saving the world ring a bell? You know ... evil vampires, threatening humanity?"

He sighed and rested his chin on her shoulder. "I was referring to my presence at this particular location. Not the vampires."

"We go where the action is, m'dear," she replied with a grin, turning around to kiss his cheek playfully. "So much the better if it's in an interesting place."

Knowing just how close he was to whining and realizing with a start that he didn't care, Severus tightened his arms around her waist. "But I can't hear myself think!" he wailed. "And I think that fellow with the spike hanging off his lip tried to feel me up when I picked up our drinks."

She twisted around on his lap in order to face him directly and gave him that sweet little devious smile that made him inwardly cringe. "It could always be worse," she said, kissing his lips softly.

"I don't see how," he muttered, letting his hands slide down the length of her back and fiddling with the hem of her blouse.

They were at a nightclub. A Muggle nightclub, of all places. Booming music, smoky dance floor, and writhing bodies flying across Severus' path every time he tried to move.

As far as he was concerned, if a pack of vampires wanted to spend their nights here, preying off idiot teenagers wearing heavy makeup and clothes that should have been washed a month ago at least, with more rings hanging off appendages that he wanted to even consider, they could go right on ahead. If it wasn't for the fact that half of the children they killed, they turned into blood-sucking fiends as well, Severus might have been of the opinion that they were possibly improving society in the long run.

Albus had informed them during the briefing that there were two other Order members planning on attending the club that evening. After all, recon reports indicated somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty-five vampires occupying the club on any given night. They were growing more bold, going so far as to engage in blood sport on the actual dance floor -- apparently this club was strange enough, by Muggle standards, that no one really paid attention.

And of course they couldn't find the pair of agents Albus mentioned. They were supposed to be incognito and, as far as Severus could tell, they had made a far greater effort at disguise than he and Hermione, blending into the crowd of tattooed, pierced, leather-encrusted youth so well that after four hours of looking, Hermione and Severus had to admit they were at a loss.

Quite possibly, he and Hermione stuck out like proverbial sore thumbs. They were clothed in black, of course -- Severus even making the concession to wear Muggle clothing for once -- but Hermione's untamed, obviously-not-dyed-black hair and Severus' disapproving scowl were noticeably out of place here.

He was tired. He was tired and he smelled bad and he was tired of people accosting him with strange questions every time he made his way over to the bar to purchase another round of drinks.

"Can we go?" he asked, nearly begging.

"Would you like to explain it to Albus when we make our report?" This retort was accompanied by her hands firmly removing his from her posterior. "And quit distracting me!"

A familiar glare settled on his features. While a lapful of Hermione Granger was on his list of favorite things, it was not nearly enough to make up for the fact that he was currently sitting on a possibly disease-ridden chair in the middle of a mass of screaming heathens. She'd had to sit on his lap because there simply wasn't enough space in the corner they'd found for two chairs.

"We haven't made contact," he said sharply. "We're not going to, and I'm tired of people asking me if I'm a Greek god."

Her eyes widened into an incredulous look. "They're asking you what?"

Severus sighed. "You heard me."

A hand skimmed down his chest, fingernails scratching his belly nearly thoughtfully. "Not that I've ever doubted your stellar qualities, Severus, but --"

"Whatever you're about to say," he interrupted. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't. Would you like another soda?"

"That would require moving, wouldn't it?" she replied with a little sigh.

"You can't be telling me that you're actually comfortable in this hellhole?" he asked incredulously.

"We have managed to find a relatively unoccupied little space back here. And I confess, I do rather enjoy perching on the lap of my own personal Greek god."

He groaned into her neck, obviously pained. "You could leave it alone, you know."

She grinned and patted his shoulder. "I'll settle for another soda, then. Who knows? Maybe you'll find our mysterious co-conspirators."

Snorting a bit, he unceremoniously pushed her off his lap and stood, automatically straightening his possibly-rumpled-beyond-repair trousers as best as he could. "What flavor?" he asked dully.

"Surprise me."

Severus shuffled off, pushing his way through the crowd with a snarl waiting to happen on his face. He was glad he'd left his coat with Hermione -- he was already sweating buckets in his fairly light Oxford shirt. As he moved away, he glared especially hard at a man who was eyeing up his partner and making a small motion toward her table.

Oh well. She could take care of herself.

And besides -- it would serve her right for volunteering them for this awful mission. He'd been planning a pleasant little vampire-free supper for the evening, complete with wine and decadent desserts and quite possibly a little sleepover in his quarters.

Not that that was particularly unusual these days. Everyone -- including the usually disapproving McGonagall -- had gently ribbed him and Hermione about the frequency with which she partook her breakfast from the Hogwarts high table. Draco Malfoy had bluntly suggested that she simply live there and abandon all pretense. Actually, what he'd said was, "Why aren't you two shacking up already?" with the largest shit-eating grin on his face Severus had ever seen.

Just the memory made Severus' fists itch to hit something.

Preferably Draco.

And unfortunately, through the year or so that he and Hermione had been not so subtly together, their mild taunts had only increased in frequency.

Especially after the incident on the Quidditch pitch.

Severus shivered with the recollection.

Ah ... at the bar now. He tersely requested another pair of sodas and idly drummed his fingertips on the open surface as he waited for the barkeep to fulfill his request, having already tossed the required funds on the bar.

His scowl deepened as another half-drunken young brat staggered into his side and gave him a cheerful grin. "Hey!" he/she/it (?) cried, tugging at a piercing in its eyebrow. "You're the one they said was dressed up like Morpheus!"

"I beg your pardon," Severus said coldly, hoping it might just leave him alone.

The fingers moved to its purple hair and it frowned, reaching out a hand to tap invasively at his chest. To his credit, Severus managed not to flinch. Much.

"Your costume is crappy, man," it drawled. "You're not even black, either!"

And with that, it tottered off into the seething mass from whence it had emerged, Severus now completely confused.

There were black Greek gods?

The barkeep was pushing drinks into his hands and Severus accepted them with something akin to gratitude, wanting nothing more than to escape this hell on Earth he'd managed to get himself dragged to. Moving backward blindly, he bumped into someone. He didn't bother to apologize, just snarled, "Get out of my way," in a tone he generally reserved for only the stupidest of Gryffindors. Tonight, however, he felt it warranted.

Severus actually dropped both sodas as he heard the answering voice. "Uncle Severus!" it cried.

"Oh, no," he moaned, burying his face in his hands. "Not you!"

"Oh, yes," Draco Malfoy chirped loudly, "it's me. Dumbledore Flooed me at work this afternoon. Apparently he needed a pair of agents to assist on a mission. So, how are you, Uncle Sev?"

"Don't call me that," Severus said automatically. And then, "Don't touch me," he hissed as he felt an arm sling around his neck in an altogether too chummy fashion.

The arm stayed and he tensed further. "Loosen up, Severus," Draco replied. "We're at a club. People come here to have fun, you know."

He finally opened his eyes in order to glare down at Draco more effectively. "Not me," he said. "And what in Merlin's name are you wearing?"

"Oh, this old thing?" he responded playfully, glancing down at his attire with an innocent look. "It's just a costume."

"What's it made of?" Severus found himself asking against his better judgment. "And why is your hair black?"

"Vinyl," he said shortly. "And if you don't know why, I'm not going to tell you. See, that's your problem, Severus -- where's your sense of culture?"

"Quite possibly sitting in my quarters right next to my stone cold supper," he said with a blank expression. "Now, come on. Since I've found you, we might as well have a rendezvous with everyone. Do you have a partner?"

"Oh, Severus," Draco said, batting his eyelashes in a fashion that left Severus feeling vaguely nauseous. "What a silly question. Of course I have a partner. He's right over there." He pointed at what Severus grimly suspected was the back of Harry Potter's head.

"Well, round him up," he told him impatiently. "And follow me."

Dropping his arm finally, Draco slithered his way through the crowd of bodies more quickly than Severus thought humanly possible and tapped the man on the shoulder. Indeed, Harry Potter spun around and offered Severus a wide grin from across the mass. It took a moment for Severus to confirm Potter's identity -- he wasn't wearing his usual spectacles and he'd apparently covered up his scar with some sort of makeup.

Like Draco, he was clothed in black from head to toe. Unlike Draco, however, it seemed to be clothing of a more masculine bent. He had to be sweating in that full-length leather coat, though.

Severus hoped fervently that Potter dropped from heat exhaustion before the evening was done. It only seemed just.

As Potter and Draco wormed their way back to him, he simply turned his back on them and began working his own way back to Hermione. Now that he was not alone, however, there were a few more shouts that seemed to be in his direction.

"He's not supposed to be Morpheus, is he?" someone who he dimly suspected was female shouted particularly loudly.

"'Course he is!" he heard Draco call back. "Can't you tell?"

A few people in the vicinity laughed loud at that. Severus tried very hard to keep his temper in check. It was, unfortunately, a losing battle and he was grateful to see Hermione's welcoming smile as he approached her table.

Smile fading, it was replaced with a questioning look. "Weren't you going for drinks?" she asked curiously.

"I found fairies instead," he replied dryly, stepping aside to reveal Draco and Potter.

She stood up and nodded carefully at them. "Boys," she greeted them shortly. "So, you're our backup?"

Draco leaned on the table and grinned. "I was led to believe that you are our backup."

"Shut up, Malfoy," she said amiably.

Potter frowned at the table and flapped the edges of his coat. "Is there just the one chair?"

"You might be able to roust another one from somewhere," she told him. "But other than that ..."

"It won't fit anyway," Draco said, squinting at the space the table was in. "We can just lean against the wall, I suppose. Only proper for the lady to have the chair and all."

"Although you're looking decidedly feminine this evening, Malfoy," she replied, giving him an appraising look and pushing Severus down in the chair so that she could curl up in his lap once again. "I never would have thought you were one for the Muggle movies."

Raising an eyebrow at her behavior, Malfoy just shrugged a little. "Stuff it, Granger," he retorted. "Harry bought me a QMC player last Christmas after we figured out how to get Muggle electricity working in the manor."

"Would that be DVD, perhaps?" she asked, grinning.

"A what?" Severus inquired, looping an arm surreptitiously around her waist and pulling her flush against his body.

Potter propped himself against the wall and crossed his legs neatly. "Aw ... what a cute couple ..."

"I'll hurt you, Potter," Severus threatened.

The insolent boy just grinned in reply. "No you won't," he said confidently. "My bestest, loveliest friend cuddling in your lap there won't let you."

"Flattery will not help, wonderboy," Hermione said, tilting her head so that Severus could help her tuck her hair behind her ears. "I still haven't forgiven you for the Quidditch pitch incident."

"It wasn't my fault," he said, folding his arms and leaning nearly imperceptibly toward Draco. "You're the one who thought it would be a good idea to have, what was it? Eight, nine Long Island Iced Teas? And I thought you two said you wouldn't ever come to a bar with me and Draco ever again."

Severus frowned. "Not voluntarily. We're supposed to be saving the world or some such nonsense, aren't we?"

"Vampires," Draco replied tightly, suddenly all business, in spite of his outlandish costume. "Dumbledore said they've been frequenting this club for more than six months now. Apparently, the Ministry asked for help from the Order -- their Aurors keep disappearing. Gee, I wonder why ... no offence, Granger."

"I'll hurt you later," she said blandly. "What else did Albus tell you about the situation?"

Potter shrugged. "Nothing. Just that we were to meet up with you two at the club and take out as many as we could. Quietly."

"How are we going to go about that, anyway?" Draco asked no one in particular.

Sighing, Severus rolled his eyes. "Draco, did you actually ever manage to pass Defense Against the Dark Arts before they kicked you out of the NEWT course?"

He looked hurt. "I had other things on my mind."

With a meaningful cough, Hermione diverted the conversation skillfully, straightening in Severus' arms as she did so. "There are two ways to do it. First of all, the tried and true stake through the heart. Secondly, decapitation works quite nicely, as long as the head is displaced at least three feet from the body."

"And the Killing Curse stuns them for a few minutes at least," Severus added. "But don't rely on it. I doubt any of us could manage more than half-a-dozen Killing Curses in one night."

"Not to mention it would bring a pack of Ministry idiots down on our heads in thirty seconds," Draco replied. "No offense, Granger."

"You keep saying that, Malfoy," she said dryly. "I'm beginning to suspect that you don't mean it."

He stuck his tongue out at her. "So, you and dearest Uncle Sev take one half of the dance floor, and we'll take the other?"

"Draco ..." Severus warned menacingly.

"All right, all right," he said, flapping his hand. "You and Mister Professor Severus Augustus Snape, Order of Merlin, Third Class, sir! Is that better?"

"You should have been drowned at birth," he said bitterly.

Potter wrinkled his nose, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. "Augustus?"

A warning look from Severus shut him up rather effectively.

"Right," Draco said after a moment of particularly awkward silence. "Shall we get to it, then? I've got an early day at work tomorrow."

"Since when do you work?" Hermione asked sarcastically, standing up and pulling Severus to his feet with her.

He sighed dramatically, making a great show of rolling his eyes. "I'll have you know, Granger, that I'm a fine, upstanding member of --"

"Lately he's taken it into his head that he wants to be a master carpenter," Potter explained, patting his hair back into place with a rather indulgent smile at his lover. "He's doing some apprentice work at a shop in town. We've got his birdhouses hung all around the manor."

"I'm sure they do a splendid job of scaring all the birds off," Severus said brusquely, ignoring the frown Draco sent his way. "Now, let's get to work. Meet back here in an hour?"

Potter grinned and Severus was sure the swot thought he was being charming. "Excellent," he said, teeth flashing as he beamed. "Come and dance with me, my love," the idiot continued, giving Draco cow-eyes.

Turning to Hermione, Severus coughed a bit. "Well ..." he grumbled, shuffling his feet. "Let's get on with it, shall we?"

She snorted and took his proffered hand. "Just what I've always wanted ... my very own Don Juan," she said sarcastically.

"Says the woman who gave me a pair of socks for our anniversary," Severus retorted smoothly, leading her toward the opposite side of the dance floor. "See any of them yet?"

"Only a couple and not in our immediate vicinity," she said. "And by the by, those socks were cashmere, Severus. It's not like your gift was any great shakes either, you know."

He grudgingly placed his hands on her hips and made a few half-hearted swaying motions in an effort to blend in. "It would be nice if we could get most of the Muggles out of here," he said wistfully. "I dislike crossfire. And what was wrong with my gift, exactly?"

Fingernails suddenly jabbed into his shoulder and he winced. "Severus, you gave me two bottles of ink!"

"Very practical gift," he protested. "You always need ink and if I recall, you delight in dripping it all over my rug." The song changed -- still some incomprehensible babble that left Severus' ears ringing, but he could at least find the beat finally -- and his arms tightened around Hermione, pulling her into a discernable dance pattern. "You know ..." he muttered mildly into her ear, silently delighting at her shiver as his lips brushed across her earlobe. "I had planned what I thought was a rather romantic evening tonight."

She smiled into the curve of his neck and he felt a small hand wander his torso. "Had you?" she asked wryly. "Supper?"

"Of course," he replied, planting a kiss on her jaw. "With wine. There were even flowers ..."

"Flowers," she echoed teasingly, nails now scratching his chest lightly and rather pleasantly. "My, my. You did go all out, didn't you? Were there--?"

But Hermione never got to finish her question. An earsplitting screech rang out over the music, echoing through the bar.

"Run!" a dark-haired man, pale enough to look suspicious in Severus' eyes, was shouting. "The Boy Who Lived! He is here!"

Swearing, Severus pushed Hermione away. "Those morons!" he hissed. "They're going to get us all killed."

In a practiced motion, they both took cover behind a couple of tables. Severus said a mental prayer of thanks to whatever deity had ensured strategically covering tablecloths in their section of the bar.

Pandemonium was rapidly ensuing -- from what Severus could see, most of the Muggle patrons were fleeing the bar as fast as their combat boots could carry them. A rough circle of people on the other side of the dance floor gave him a good idea of Potter and Draco's location. The sudden flash of green light that momentarily blinded him confirmed it.

All hell was threatening to break loose.

"What do you think?" he heard Hermione ask quietly from a nearby table. "An ambush?"

"Do you happen to have any stakes on you?" he asked in reply.

Her only response was to Banish a wooden chair in his direction.

"Smartass," Severus said, breaking off a leg and brandishing it as he usually would his wand.

-- -- -- -- --

Hermione tried to wipe a bit of something unspeakable off her forehead but was sure she only succeeded in smearing it around further. "What the hell happened?" she asked, panting for breath.

"Someone saw my scar," Harry replied, an apology in his eyes as he cleaned his wand off on his shirt, having used it as an impromptu stake more than once during the battle. "I guess the makeup rubbed off or something."

"That one's so sharp he'll cut himself," Severus spat from further away, giving a vampire's head a vicious kick to send it spiraling away from its disturbingly-threatening-to-revive body.

Draco was sprawled in the middle of the carnage, flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling of the club. "Was anyone hurt?" he asked quietly.

"What, d'you mean apart from the thirty or forty vampires we just slaughtered?" Harry retorted in a nasty sort of voice.

Sitting up to glare at him, Draco couldn't quite blink away the shock of battle still in his eyes.

With a sigh, Harry allowed his shoulders to slump, crossing over to kneel beside his lover. "No, Draco," he said placatingly. "All of the Muggles got out safely. And none of us were hurt either, I don't think."

"Your coat is torn," Draco replied, fingering the said tear gently.

Grinning, Harry hauled him to his feet, slipping a casual arm around his shoulders. "And your Glamour is wearing off -- your roots are showing, dearest."

Draco made a face.

"If you two are done being thoroughly nauseating ..." Severus drawled. "We've got to report to Albus, at least, and I know a handful of Ministry idiots are going to be breathing down our necks in the next hour or so if we don't get out of here."

Hermione sighed. "If I promise to speak to Albus, will you go brew up some quick painkiller stuff, Severus?"

He was at her side instantly. "What happened? Are you hurt? I can take you to St. Mungo's ..."

With a chuckle, she patted his cheek affectionately. "It's nothing, really, Severus. Nothing broken, nothing bleeding. But I did get thrown against a couple of walls, you know. Bound to be sore tomorrow."

"I don't like --" he began with a frown.

She countered with a frown of her own. "Severus ..." she warned. "All I want to do is go home, take a long shower, and sleep until next week."

Harry and Draco exchanged knowing glances that did not escape her notice. "Er ... Hermione?" Harry asked hesitantly. "How about you let us go brief Albus? You sound really tired and everything ..."

"Good idea," Severus said briskly, leaving Hermione rather stunned. To her knowledge, it might actually have been the first time he'd agreed with Harry Potter without a massive fight beforehand.

"But --" she protested half-heartedly.

Harry's tone was unexpectedly final. "No, Hermione," he said. "You go on. It's been a long night and you deserve it."

"Oh, all right," she conceded, finally allowing herself to lean into Severus' side. His arm automatically went around her waist. "Thanks, you two."

"Don't worry, Granger," Draco replied, pocketing his wand. "We'll call in the favor some other time."

-- -- -- -- --

Hermione drowsed in bed until her bladder began to wage serious protests. Untangling herself from Severus' arms, she stood up, wincing as her muscles complained at the motion.

"Merlin's ass," Severus said quietly, his wakefulness startling her. "You look terrible."

Glancing down at her nude body, she frowned. "Gee, Severus. That's always what a girl wants to hear first thing in the morning."

"You know what I mean," he growled. "Are you all right, Hermione?"

She continued to shuffle toward the lavatory. "I will be," she called back, carefully closing the door and continuing to contemplate her bruises. Unfortunately, Severus was right -- she really did look awful.

"Your back is nothing but one giant bruise," he commented through the door. "I didn't know human beings could turn that color. Maybe I have some salve somewhere ..."

She flushed the toilet. "You're going to have to help me with it, then."

"I think I can accommodate you," came the dry reply.

"And I must warn you," she continued thoughtfully, "I'm not up to any of your usual games. I have every intention of spending the next day at least in bed, recovering."

He opened the bathroom door with a scowl. "Games?" he echoed with disdain. "I do not."

"Sure ..." she said. "And you don't snore either."

Exercising his often-ignored Slytherin tact, Severus remained quiet, only holding out an unmarked jar with a pointed look on his face. She bit back an acid remark as she read the compassion in his eyes as they skimmed up and down her body, taking in her numerous bruises. "Threw you against a wall, you say?"

"Three, actually," she admitted with a small wince, making her way carefully back to the bed.

Severus was careful as he rubbed salve onto her bruises. It was cool against her skin and Hermione felt the pain ebbing away as his fingers gently massaged her. She knew that it would take time for the actual bruises to fade, but she would no longer hurt. Under his touch, the bright sparks of pain faded to a dull ache and then went away completely.

"Severus ..." she mumbled into the pillow.

He made a questioning noise as his fingers dipped into that wonderful little jar again.

"I completely forgive you for your absolutely wretched anniversary gift," she said with a sigh.

Chuckling, he began working on the worst places on her back. "I hope Draco and Potter didn't bungle the briefing," he said.

"Not much to bungle, really," she replied, still facing the pillow. "There were vampires, now there aren't. Well ... not at that particular club any more. We didn't even have to Oblivate anyone."

"True," he said, clearly thinking. "There's no real point in following up with Albus, then, is there? I admit, an entire day to ourselves is rather appealing."

"Was that a hint, Severus?" she teased, pain now almost entirely gone.

He certainly knew as well as she did that her bruises were no longer bothering her, as his gentle ministrations became decidedly more sensual in nature. "Obviously I was not clear enough, if you need to ask," he said testily.

Laughing, she turned to look up at him and gave his shoulder a playful slap.

Severus was just leaning down to kiss her when a knock at the door caused them both to jump. Frowning, he stood and began pulling on a pair of pajama bottoms, running his fingers through his hair. For her own part, Hermione hastily threw on the matching top that he absently handed her. She decided that her hair was a lost cause as she walked to the door.

Blinking, Hermione was quite at a loss as the open door revealed a widely grinning Ginny Creevey, nee Weasley. "Hermione, darling!" she cried, pulling her into a hug.

"Ginny?" Hermione asked dumbly, automatically returning the embrace.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten," she replied, pulling away and giving her a knowing look.

She continued to give Ginny that same blank look.

"Shopping? Diagon Alley? Today?" Ginny asked. "Ring any bells?"

A faint tickling at the back of Hermione's mind was warning her that Ginny might possibly be correct. Now that she thought about it, she dimly recalled an invitation to spend a day on the town with Ginny. Unfortunately, she rather thought she also remembered turning it down. "Ginny, I --"

"Nonsense," she said, blithely cutting Hermione off. "I know you wrote to me saying you had some sort of Order business to attend to, but I spoke with Albus Dumbledore just the other day and he assured me that you were free today."

She thought she heard Severus in the background, stifling what was probably a smug laugh with a cough.

Well and truly busted.

"Oh ... Professor Snape," Ginny was saying politely. "And how are you doing?"

He looked rather startled at being addressed. "Oh ... I ... erm ... fine, Miss Weasley. Mrs. Creevey," he amended quickly. "Thank you."

Ginny's grin widened. "Perhaps you could help me talk Hermione into shopping? We're planning on hitting Gladrags, and maybe even venturing out into Muggle London."

"We?" Hermione asked, now suspicious.

"Susan and I," she replied smoothly, only a trace of panic in her expression. "You know ... my horrible brother's wonderful wife? I'm planning to give her a day off from everything. She's just been running ragged what with the baby and all --"

Interrupting Ginny's chatter with a tactful cough, Hermione placed her most apologetic expression on her face. "Ginny, I'm really, really sorry, but last night was ... there were vampires you see, and I'm just so --"

"Nonsense," Ginny said, echoing her previous sentiments and sounding horribly like her mother. "You need a day off as well. Battling the forces of evil and whatnot. Aren't I right, Professor Snape?"

Reminding her uncannily of a rabbit caught in a trap, Severus appeared paralyzed on the spot. "I ... erm ... well, that is to say ..."

Ginny clapped her hands. "It's settled, then. Come on now, Hermione, I'll give you five minutes to get dressed."

With her nose in the air, Hermione stalked past Severus, growling under her breath. Leaving him alone in a room with a Weasley served him right. His grin widened at her obvious distress and she made a mental note to mention to Albus that his chambers could do with a couple of days of dedicated attention from the house elves.

Dobby, hopefully. Last time Dobby had stumbled his way into Severus' quarters, he'd somehow managed to set an entire cabinetful of incredibly valuable potions ingredients on fire and gotten rid of Severus' most recent (and to date, most successful) experiments because 'the cauldrons wanted cleaning, Professor. Theys was filthy with such stinky muck ..."

Yes ... Hermione thought Dobby would do quite nicely. She pulled a Muggle blouse over her head and contemplated a pair of trainers rather gloomily.

"I am sorry, you know," she heard Severus say from behind her.

"No you're not," she replied, shoving her feet into her shoes. "Where's Ginny?"

"Waiting in the front room, tapping her foot rather impatiently. I suspect, my dear, that there's something she's not telling you."

She turned to glare at him and began pulling a brush vigorously through her hair. "Severus, it's Ginny Weasley! Of course there's something she's not telling me. There always is."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, not a trace of remorse in his tone. "I'd hoped we could --"

Huffing, she pulled a light robe over her clothes. "Yeah, yeah."

He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive posture. "I'm serious!"

Hermione softened slightly as she pulled her hair up into a makeshift ponytail. "I know," she replied, putting a hand on his arm as soon as she was close enough. "Maybe I can get away right after luncheon. That would give us an entire afternoon of hanging around the castle, devising ways to dodge Albus."

His eyes brightened considerably and she allowed him to steal a kiss, deciding that she might not set Dobby loose on him after all. "Why are you wearing Muggle clothes underneath your robes?" he asked curiously as they walked back toward the door.

"Ginny did mention something about Muggle London," she said, resigned to her fate by now. "I like to be prepared for every eventuality."

"And yet you come up with the most pitiful excuses of anyone I've ever met," he commented dryly in her ear as they came within earshot of Ginny Creevey.

Narrowing her eyes at his suddenly innocent look, she decided to leave it alone and allowed Ginny to shuffle her out the door. "I'll see you later, Severus," she said rather despondently.

"Have fun, Hermione."

Bastard, she mentally growled at him.

-- -- -- -- --

He hadn't been lying. Severus would truly miss Hermione's presence today. The thought of a lovely morning spent lounging in bed, followed by a luncheon free of the most annoying staff, still enjoying their summer breaks far away from Hogwarts, and possibly a blissfully student-free afternoon outdoors in the sunshine, fervently proving that neither of them were vampiric in nature.

While he could still do most of that, it wouldn't be the same without her dry wisecracks and warm weight against his side.

Blinking, Severus sat down in one of his more uncomfortable armchairs, wondering when he'd turned into a soppy romantic fool. When had this happened?

No matter. The point was that it had happened.

This wouldn't do.

A frown still gracing his features as he contemplated his apparent softening, Severus slowly stood and made his way to the bathroom, stepping into the shower and glaring at the soap in his hand as if it were responsible for his sudden discomfort.

With a growl, he threw the soap to the floor, swearing as he did so. Damn it, it wasn't fair! Severus Snape wasn't supposed to moon over a woman like a common idiot. He was supposed to be able to separate his emotional entanglements from his rational being.

Loving Hermione was all well and good, to be sure, and he was grateful for the fact that it was returned (as far as he could discern). He had absolutely no problem with their relationship as it stood, and insomuch as he could tell, neither did she.

So why was he wishing for her constant presence all of a sudden? Entertaining horrible, nauseating thoughts of curly-headed, dark-eyed brats with Slytherin crests on their student robes?

It was unacceptable. To his knowledge, Hermione liked children about as well as he did, which was to say, in response to the question, she would probably answer, "Well, I prefer them fried, generally."

Certain that he'd lost his mind, Severus stepped out of the shower, padding naked through his (their?) bedroom and pulling on a pair of boxers.

The knock on the door was very nearly expected. He entertained no illusions about Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy and was certain that Albus would be down to the dungeons as soon as it was reasonably certain he would be awake in order to find out what had really happened last night.

But he found himself rather surprised to open the door and see a tall, redheaded young man on the other side of it. "What do you want?" Severus asked, becoming more and more aware of the fact that he was clad only in his underwear and mostly dripping wet.

The man did not appear to be disturbed by the circumstances. "Is Hermione here?" he countered. "I went by her place earlier and she wasn't there, so I thought ..."

"She is not," he replied. "She's out for the day." Squinting at the admittedly harried-looking fellow, he became marginally sure that this was Ron Weasley. "What do you want, Weasley?"

He seemed to be correct. Weasley sighed and before Severus knew exactly what he was about, a bundle was thrust into his hands and a bag tossed at his feet. "I'll be back around five. I'm sure you can handle it."

The bundle was heavy and, to Severus' horror, shifted and emitted an unsettlingly infant sort of sigh. "No!"

"Hermione owes me," Weasley said, eyes narrowing. "Susan is gone for the day and I just got an emergency call from work. You're the only one I can find."

An eyebrow lifted and the bundle shifted further. "Your mother?" he asked hopefully.

"Gone ... and my father, too, before you ask," he retorted. "What, is a baby too much for you to handle?"

"No," Severus said. "It's due more to a complete and total lack of desire."

Weasley was unrepentant. "Take it up with Hermione. I bailed her out of all that mess our seventh year with Viktor Krum and now I'm calling it in. You can tell her we're even, now."

As the boy turned to walk away, obviously content leaving his only child in the hands of one Severus Snape, a thought struck him. "Weasley," he called.

He turned around, a question written on his face.

"Consider the fact that now you owe me a second debt," he said, a taunt evident in his tone.

Not willing to take the bait, or so it seemed, Weasley shrugged and walked briskly up the stairs, robes swirling around his ankles.

"You know ..." Severus told the bundle thoughtfully. "I don't know a damn thing about babies."

-- -- -- -- --

Hermione was going to murder Ginny Creevey, legal issues be damned. There wasn't a jury on the face of the entire planet that would convict her, wizarding or Muggle. "Why didn't you tell me?" she hissed.

"I knew you wouldn't come, then," Ginny replied placidly. "And I need you here, Hermione. Really."

"Yeah," she spat, livid. "As a human shield!"

"Come on, girls," Molly Weasley said briskly from behind them. "Don't dawdle."

"Mum," Ginny sighed. "We're shopping. Dawdling is practically part of the itinerary."

Hermione could hear Molly frowning as she spoke. "If you want to go out into Muggle London and make it back to Gladrags in time for your two o'clock appointment, we've got to hurry, my dear. Now, get along."

"We could Apparate," Ginny tried hopefully.

"Virginia Weasley," she snapped. "Haven't I taught you anything? You do not Apparate into a potential crowd of Muggles."

"I think, Molly," Susan Weasley began, breaking her very pragmatic silence for the first time that morning, "that she meant we could Apparate from a London safe spot over to Gladrags in the afternoon."

"Oh ..." Molly said, considering the idea. "Well, of course, dear. That sounds sensible."

Ginny let out a breath and sent Susan a grateful look.

Hermione idly wondered if she had enough time to cast the Killing Curse on herself. No -- she eventually decided. Ginny would probably wrest the wand out of her hands before she could finish saying, "Avada."

She sighed as Molly commented on the fact that it was such a long way to the Apparition point from Hogwarts. "And why were you at Hogwarts, again, dear? So early in the morning, after all ..." she asked Hermione in a deceptively innocent tone.

It was going to be a long, hellish day.

-- -- -- -- --

Apparently, it didn't like his chair any more than he did. Severus had laid the child down in order to find a better place for the bag Weasley had left other than directly under his feet. It didn't even take a full sixty seconds for the infant to come awake and start bawling directly.

Severus was completely at a loss. He'd picked it up, which made it cry harder. He'd then put it down, which also made it cry harder.

Now the child was laying on his sofa, arms and legs waving pathetically in the air as it sobbed.

"Great Merlin," Severus moaned, burying his head in his hands. "You'd think I was murdering you down here." He dimly recalled a game his great-uncle Tiberius had sworn cheered up any baby in the world (including Severus himself as an infant, supposedly) and if there was any baby in the world that needed cheering up at this moment, it was this one.

Here went nothing.

Straightening his head, Severus kept his face covered as he turned toward the baby. After a pause, he pulled his hands away, tried to smile and said, "Peek, baby," in the happiest tone he currently possessed.

And now the child was actually screaming.

He plucked up the baby once again, holding it under its armpits and letting its feet dangle, kicking uselessly at nothing. Red-faced, the child continued to shriek. "Look," Severus cried, feeling as if he was at the end of his rope, "I don't know what you want. I know what I want -- I want Hermione here and you gone." He felt dangerously close to tears himself as he peered into the infant's face.

Oblivious to Severus' needs, the Weasley brat wailed on.

-- -- -- -- --

Hermione had moved on in her suicide plot. A simple Killing Curse would obviously not do the trick. Damn London for putting most of its shops on the ground floor -- what she needed was a good hundred-foot drop onto the pavement, with broken glass and wailing shop girls thrown in for good measure. She could be gone before Molly could even draw breath again.

"Charlie is getting married this fall," Molly said. "To a lovely young woman he met in Romania. Her English is improving wonderfully."

"How nice," Hermione said in a falsely cheerful tone, sending a glare toward an almost apologetic Ginny.

"We've had quite a lot of weddings lately," she continued. "Charlie, and Ginny last year, of course, and dear Ron and Susan the year before that. I did mean to ask you, have you set a date yet, dear?"

She blinked. "What?"

"A date," Molly enunciated. "For your wedding, of course."

"My ... wedding?" Hermione echoed. "But ... but I'm not engaged."

Seeing the disapproval flash in Molly's eyes, Hermione wished fervently that she had a Time Turner on her person. Yet another weapon in Molly's arsenal and Hermione had just volunteered it of her own free will. "Well ..." Molly said after a long pause. "I'm sure Severus will bring you around eventually. He's a good boy."

With a mental snort at the thought of Severus as a 'good boy,' which somehow evoked him dressed in an altar boy's frock, Hermione went and made the situation worse. "To my knowledge, he's never mentioned marriage either," she said, cursing her own stupidity as the words tumbled unheedingly off her lips.

Another flash of disapproval. But she recovered nicely, Hermione thought. "I'm sure it's on his mind, dear. You're both of ages to want to be settling down. I'm certain he'll propose soon -- don't you worry."

Hermione tried to picture Severus on bended knee, offering her a diamond solitaire ring with one of those romantic gazes she saw Harry send Draco every now and again, and failed utterly. In the end, though, she managed to rein in her traitorous tongue and remained silent as Molly continued to detail the arrangements for Charlie's wedding.

She was certain she would dream of crepe and lace tonight. And altar boys.

"Ginny!" she called suddenly, frantically. "Tell me what you think about this," she said as soon as Ginny looked up, plucking the first thing off the rack that her hands happened upon.

Walking over, Ginny tried to hide a smile. "First of all, it's nowhere near your size. And secondly, when did you become a fan of powder pink?"

"Shut up," Hermione hissed, blaming Ginny for this entire affair. "And save me!"

"Is that my Hermione's voice I hear?" came a loud cry from about three racks over. "I didn't know you were in London, love."

"Oh, no," she sighed, putting the blouse down and moving away from the confused Weasleys. "Mother!" she cried, injecting her voice with false joy. "What are you doing all the way over here?"

"There's a sale this week, my dear," Mary Granger said, pecking her daughter's cheek and giving her a perfunctory embrace. "I thought you'd be working, else I'd have given you a call."

"We dragged Hermione out of her usual hidey hole, Mrs. Granger," Ginny said, approaching the pair carefully. "It's good to see you again."

Mary looked rather puzzled. "And you are ...?"

"Mother," Hermione began, startled into formal introductions. "You remember Ginny Weasley, don't you? We were at school together. And here is her mother, Molly, and her daughter-in-law, Susan, who I don't think you've met before. She's Ron's wife."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Granger," Susan said politely, nodding.

"Oh, call me Mary, my dear," she replied with a smile. "Mrs. Granger always makes me want to look over my shoulder for my mother-in-law. It's so nice to see my girl in the company of women for once."

"Mo-ther," she hissed, scowling.

With a wave of her hand, Mary dismissed her daughter. "Oh, Hermione, you know what I mean. Even when you were in school, you spent all your time with those boys, and now, I only see you with that fellow you work with. What is his name? Something dreadful -- Spartacus, is it?"

Ginny actually snickered and Hermione buried her face in her hands. "His name is Severus, Mother," she said through her fingers. "For the thousandth time. Severus."

"Yes, that's it," Mary confirmed with another elegant hand flap. "Well ... anyway. I do wish you'd stop seeing him, Hermione. He's so --"

Lifting her eyes, Hermione saw Ginny turning a dangerous shade of purple. Even Susan was grinning now, and Molly Weasley was gazing at Mary as if she'd just found her new best friend. "Mother," she said quickly. "I'm really quite sorry, but we must be getting on to luncheon now. It was good to see you."

Unfortunately, Molly headed off Hermione at the pass. "Oh, but you must come and have lunch with us, Mary," she said. "We were planning to stop at this adorable little café that Susan pointed out. It's just down the road a bit. It would be so lovely to have a nice chat."

Hermione's mental prodding at her mother to say no had little effect in the end. "I would be delighted," Mary said, not even blinking at her daughter'sthunderous look. "Just let me get everything rung up and we can be on our way." Still chatting, she and Molly moved toward the queue.

"It's official," Hermione muttered, elbowing a still-chortling Ginny. "I'm in hell."

-- -- -- -- --

"Will you shut up if I feed you?" Severus asked desperately. "I'm starving."

The child barely paused for breath as it continued to cry. Surely this couldn't last much longer. He'd never heard anyone cry this much. And to think, he'd been contemplating children of his own recently. Thinking of bringing this into his and Hermione's life, permanently.

Never again.

"Of course," he continued, picking up the baby and managing to more or less competently carry it into his makeshift kitchen. "I'm not entirely sure what to feed a baby. I can tell by your wide-open trap that you've only got the one tooth, so I suppose most things are out of the question. And I've not got any milk. So ... will you shut up if you watch me eat?"

Apparently perplexed by his chatter, the baby actually silenced briefly, giving Severus a curious look.

Something struck him as he and the child regarded each other as one generally would a coiled snake. "Well, Weasley did leave a bag with you, didn't he? Maybe babies come with their own food. Like those ridiculous sea monkeys Albus gave me one year for Christmas." He walked back into the front room, still carrying the baby.

Sure enough, a careful inventory of the bag revealed three bottles, six diapers (at least ... that's what he thought they were), and a package neatly labeled, "Mashed carrots."

"Sounds fabulous," Severus muttered, picking up the little container and taking it over to the table. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to have something as well." He made up a quick sandwich from the leftovers of his failed romantic supper from the night before and sat down at the table, sandwich in one hand and baby in the other, propped carefully on his knee.

Fortunately, there was a little spoon attached to the food -- Severus was grateful; his nerves were too shot for him to transfigure something for the child to use.

"You know," he told the baby thoughtfully as he spooned food into its seemingly happy mouth. "I don't even know your name. Hell ... I don't even know your gender." It was wearing a sort of one-piece suit (an unhelpful green) and had hopelessly generic baby features. The only distinction the child had at all was a shock of red hair and a pair of bright blue eyes. "No mistaking you for anything but a Weasley, though."

The baby said something that sounded like, "Pah," as it accepted another mouthful of carrots, allowing more than two-thirds of it to ooze back out onto its face.

"You certainly have Ron Weasley's table manners," Severus said dryly, using the spoon's edge to scrape its face. "But for the moment, I'm satisfied that you're relatively quiet."

"Mep," the baby chirped, pushing away the next spoonful with pudgy little hands.

"Are you done, then?" he asked, realizing in the last moment the futility of asking it questions and feeling rather stupid. "Well ... if you don't mind ..." Severus ate his sandwich in roughly three large bites, not wanting to keep the child balanced on his knee any longer.

Once finished, he held it up in the air again, tentatively bringing it closer to his chest as it refrained from renewing its cries. "I think I'd like to get dressed now," he said, wondering at his sudden urge to tell this brat everything that was on his mind. "I had every intention of dressing this morning after my shower, but -- holy shit!" he yelped as the baby gave one loud urping sort of sound and threw up about half of a container of mashed carrots, mostly on Severus.

The infant gave a delighted sort of gurgle and clapped its hands, spraying more orange vomit into Severus' face.

"I'm glad you're amused," he sighed, deciding that Weasley would probably be angry if he came back to discover Severus had dropped the child off on an orphanage's doorstep. "I'd wanted another shower today anyway."

"Grrr," it cried, making a grab for his nose.

Not happy, Severus walked toward the bedroom, child dangling by its armpits again. "Don't," he snapped, causing the baby to wrinkle its face.

He stripped them both down as the water heated up. "So ... you're a boy," Severus said as he peeled away its admittedly soggy diaper and pitched it in the general vicinity of a dustbin. The clothes would just have to sit in the sink, dripping, until he could deal with them. "I suppose it'll be less traumatizing for you, then, that we're going to take a shower at the same time. Not that you'll remember. I don't think."

It seemed to enjoy the warm water and stretched its hands up toward the spray, squirming in Severus' grasp. Baby skin was far more slippery than he was comfortable with, so he made quick work of it, rinsing them both off as well as he could and stepping out of the shower in less than five minutes.

He wrapped it -- he -- the baby in a clean towel, surprised when it -- he decided to cuddle into Severus' chest and make a soft sort of mewling baby noise. "You're not going to fool me for a second," he said, glaring at him. "I'll hold this over your head the entire time you're at Hogwarts, Weasley spawn."

The child blinked at him.

"Will you sit still for a moment while I put something on?" he found himself asking rather desperately.

Not trusting him for more than a second, Severus sat the baby, still swaddled in the towel, on the bedroom floor, only turning to pull a second pair of boxers out of the drawer. Slipping them on, he turned around and saw nothing save a damp towel on the floor.

"Damn it," he growled, dropping to hands and knees. "All right, where are you, you little rat?"

He thought he heard a little giggle from the doorway.

"The minute the Sorting Hat gets put on your miserable little head, I'm taking a hundred points from whatever house you wind up in," Severus continued through clenched teeth, scanning the still empty bedroom floor. "Even if it's Slytherin."

"Rin," a tiny voice agreed from his left.

"And detentions ..." he said, moving into the hallway. "Oh ... there'll be so many detentions ... where are you?" he exclaimed, thoroughly irritated by now.

"Poo-goo!"

That sounded like it came from the sitting room. "Wow ..." Severus said sarcastically. "Two-syllable babbling. Your mummy must be so proud of you, you brilliant boy, you."

And there the little brat was. Sitting in the middle of the rug, happily gumming a piece of parchment that Severus had no idea how he'd obtained, and naked as Adam. At least the bag with the diapers was within Severus' reach.

As if he were a tiger stalking an antelope, he crept up on the infant, afraid it would somehow bolt if it caught sight of him. Close enough to grab a diaper now, he palmed it, grimacing at the slick feel of the Muggle plastic under his fingers. The Weasleys always did have a funny thing for Muggles.

Even closer and he could reach out and touch the child. But Severus waited, waited until he could snake out both hands and wrap them firmly around his torso. The child gave a short scream that was more anger than anything else as he found himself swept up in the air again.

"Gotcha!" Severus cried. "I'm not turning my back on you again, you horrible brat."

"Faugh," the baby retorted, slapping the slimy parchment square in the middle of Severus' bare chest.

Not to be outdone, he quickly put the child down on its back and began fumbling around with the Muggle-style diaper. "I hate children," he said under his breath as he tried to make sense of the sticky fastenings he'd just discovered as the baby twisted in protest. "And I especially hate Weasley children."

-- -- -- -- --

"Can I please go home now?" Hermione asked, hating the petulant note in her voice. "I told Severus I'd be home after luncheon and it's nearly one-thirty."

"Severus," Mary said disdainfully. "Always Severus."

"And not even engaged," added Molly with a sort of snort. "It's indecent."

Mary glanced at her fellow conspirator. "I've never liked that bloke. The first time our Hermione brought him home, I took one look at that long hair of his and I knew exactly what he was about. And so flighty, with all of that Order of the Bird nonsense. He doesn't even seem to have a sensible job."

"Phoenix, Mother," Hermione corrected automatically, contemplating the varied uses of the Silencing Hex.

"Job?" Molly echoed, effectively ignoring her. "But Severus has a job. A good one. Why, he's --"

"Molly!" she interrupted loudly, giving Ginny a pleading look. "Could we please talk about something else?"

Clearly confused, Molly turned to look at her. "But, Hermione, dear, I was just going to tell your mother about Severus working at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?" Mary asked, perking up. "Hermione, you never told me ..."

Molly smiled broadly. "Oh, Severus has been the resident Potions master up there for years. Actually, I'm surprised Hermione didn't mention him when she was younger. From what I hear, they butted heads a lot, even though she was only a student."

She let her head fall unhesitatingly onto the table with a resounding thud. "Now she's gone and done it," she mumbled, so quietly that only Ginny managed to catch it.

Outrage written across every feature, Mary literally swelled. "Hermione Granger, am I hearing this correctly?"

"Mother --"

"Have you been carrying on with one of your professors?" Her voice went up a note.

With a start, her head shot up to regard her mother with something akin to exasperation. "But Mother, we just ... I mean ... not while I was at school, for Chrissake!"

Mary was not listening. "Does the headmaster know?" she cried.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione sighed. "I'm certain he does."

"Especially after Professor McGonagall found --" Ginny began unhelpfully.

"Ginny!" Hermione yelped.

"I'm very disappointed in you, young lady," Mary snapped. "Just wait until your father hears about this."

"I seriously doubt he'll care much," she retorted, knowing just how close she was getting to the fire. "Just because Severus happened to be one of my professors many years ago doesn't mean --"

"Hermione, the man is old enough to be your father!" she cried, wringing her hands.

"He is not," Hermione said. "Papa is a good ten years older than Severus."

"But I thought Professor Snape went to school with Harry Potter's parents," Ginny wondered aloud, only realizing what she'd done when Hermione shot her a murderous glare.

Face red, Mary opened her mouth to speak (or shout) again.

Hurriedly, Hermione cut her off. "All right," she conceded grudgingly. "Technically, he is. But Harry's parents were about nineteen when he was born, I'll have you know. Merlin was at least seventy years older than Nimue when they had their affair, you know."

"Nimue isn't my daughter," Mary screeched, unable to contain herself any longer.

"Mother, could we please discuss this some other time?" she pleaded. "And not in public?"

Eyes still snapping, Mary relented. "But we will talk about this later. Ladies," she continued, turning to Molly with a sad smile, "I am sorry to disturb your lunch. I believe I should be getting back home. Hermione, I hope you have a good day, dear."

"Good bye, Mother," she said dully, hating the pitying looks she saw on both Ginny's and Susan's faces.

-- -- -- -- --

Three hours and at least ten shops later, Hermione finally bid the Weasleys an exhausted farewell as she Apparated back to Hogwarts, wanting nothing more than to climb into bed and talk Severus into bringing her supper rather than having to endure the Great Hall.

As she walked toward the school gates, she wondered if Severus had enjoyed his day. Certainly it had to have been better than hers.

She made a mental note to warn him about her mother.

Fortunately, Hermione encountered no one as she trudged through the castle, down staircases and through corridors, heading unerringly to Severus' quarters and speaking the password listlessly. Upon stepping into the sitting room, however, she had to stop and goggle soundlessly.

Severus was sprawled on the floor, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, with a baby curled to his chest. His mouth was wide open and the baby, clad only in what Hermione dimly thought was meant to be a diaper, was drooling on his shoulder. A bottle, half full of something milky in appearance, laid next to Severus' outstretched fingertips.

She watched them both for a good five minutes at least. Finally, as if he knew he was being watched, Severus' eyes slipped open to look at her passionlessly.

"Erm ... is there something you want to tell me?" she asked, amused.

"This," Severus muttered in a far from amused voice, "is Ron Weasley's firstborn son. We have spent the day, unfortunately, in each other's company."

As if on cue, the baby's eyes opened and tiny fists yanked at handfuls of Severus' chest hair. "Bugga," it said.

Severus' facial expression didn't even shift. Gathering the child up in his arms and moving to a sitting position, he offered the bottle to the baby, who seemed content to suckle for a few moments.

"You know ..." she said thoughtfully, "this is a sight I never thought I'd see."

"You'll never see it again, either," he said, grimacing as the baby started protesting and pushing the bottle away. "If any Weasley comes to our doorstep again bearing some squalling brat, they'll have to go pick it up from an orphanage. Or perhaps Albus' office," he said, clearly contemplating the idea with some relish. "All right, all right," he told the squirming child, flipping him over his shoulder and giving his back a couple of perfunctory pats."

"Have you spent the entire day on the floor like that?" Hermione asked, suppressing a grin as the child emitted a loud burp.

He sat the baby on the floor beside him and stood slowly. "Actually, no," he said dryly. "We spent a fair amount of time screaming at each other in the front room. And we got to take a lovely shower after mashed carrots proved to be beyond our digestive capabilities."

The baby began crawling around on the floor, babbling rather happily to itself.

"Severus, is that Spell-o-tape on his diaper?" she asked incredulously, watching the child crawl.

Shrugging, she saw the defeated look in his eyes. "I couldn't figure out the fastenings," he admitted. "But the tape seems to work quite well. How was your day?"

"We ran into my mother in London," she said with a sigh. "She hates you even more now, by the way."

"Oh, good," he said vaguely. "So it was productive, then?"

"She's not usually that bad," Hermione continued. "But I think she and Molly Weasley have this sort of resonant effect on each other. I don't know. We should never let them in the same room together ever again. At least, not while either one of us is in it."

"Agreed," Severus said. "Although, given a choice between that or babysitting the Weasley whelp from hell, it's a tossup, I think." The baby crawled over to pat his leg and promptly sneezed on his foot, covering it with unspeakable baby fluids. Severus swore.

Stifling a laugh that she knew he would not appreciate, Hermione reached up to kiss his cheek. "When is Ron coming back?"

"Five," he replied shortly. "And after that, I recommend we go find a bar and get smashingly drunk. We've both earned it." He deftly picked the child up before it could crawl out of the room. "And you're not fooling me again," he told the baby with a frown. In response, it grabbed a lock of his hair and pulled.

She noted with some degree of relief that the clock read quarter-to-five. "At least now I know how to bring you to your knees completely," she said. "It only takes one ten-month-old baby to do it."

"Would you like your mother to descend upon you for an extended visit?" he asked nastily, moving the child out of arm's reach.

"There's no need for threats, Severus," she said quickly, welcoming the knock on the door and moving to answer it.

A sheepish Ron stood on the other side. "Hey, Hermione," he said. "Susan came to work as soon as she got home and saw no one was there. I'm here for Andy."

"Andy?" Hermione and Severus echoed, both confused.

"Yeah ... you know, Andrew ... my son? Thanks for looking after him, by the way, Snape. I hope he wasn't any trouble," Ron said politely.

"Oh, he was," Severus replied in a bland sort of tone, handing the baby, Andy, over. "I trust you know better than to ask me to do this a second time?"

Chuckling, Ron stooped to pick up the bag she'd just noticed on the floor. "Where're his clothes?"

"The house elves probably have them by now," he grumbled. "You'll get them back, don't worry."

"I'm not," he said. "Oh, and while I'm thinking about it, Susan insists that you two join us for supper this evening. Our treat and everything. After today, we all need a night out. Mum's going to take Andy."

Hermione thought she heard Severus whisper, "Thank God." "Ron, we're both very tired ..."

"Come on, Hermione," he cajoled. "We owe you. Besides, Susan won't let me hear the end of it if you don't say yes. Harry and Malfoy will even be there ... we've got reservations."

"No," Severus said quickly. "I spent last night with Tweedledum and Tweedledumber. That was enough."

With a small sigh, she turned to him with a resigned look. "It'll just be for one night, Severus. If we stay in, you know Albus will come looking for us and he won't take no for an answer."

He frowned. "Oh ... all right."

Ron grinned and bounced a giggling baby Andy on his hip. "Excellent. We'll meet you down in Hogsmeade in front of the Three Broomsticks, all right?"

"Weasley, go away," Severus sighed.

-- -- -- -- --

"This has officially been the worst day of my life," Severus muttered as he straightened his collar. "And that's counting the day when my Death Eater cover got blown."

"Who would have thought one little baby could unnerve you completely?" Hermione wondered, tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear as they waited not-so-patiently in front of the Three Broomsticks. "And why are we meeting here, of all places?"

"We've got to Floo to the restaurant, of course," drawled Draco Malfoy's voice from somewhere behind her back. "And Weasel and his wife live in Hogsmeade, so it's not as far for them. Good evening, Granger, Uncle Sev. Didn't know you two were coming along."

"We are both owed supper for our respective days of Purgatory. And Draco, I swear if you call me that one more time ..." Severus threatened.

"You know you love me, Uncle," Draco teased. "And what d'you mean, Purgatory?"

Sighing, Severus decided to let it go. "Ron Weasley decided that for some unknown reason, I would be the best person to look after his brat for the day, and Hermione was drafted into shopping with Molly Weasley."

"Babysitting?" Draco asked incredulously, a grin splitting his face. "You?"

"Yes, me," he spat. "I do not wish to discuss it any further. Suffice to say, young master Weasley should hope that I retire before he enters Hogwarts."

"I must have caught the wrong end of the conversation," Harry Potter said as he approached the trio. "I heard something about dear Severus threatening a Weasley. Not that that's anything new, mind, but ..."

Draco looped an arm around Potter's waist and gave him a sickening look. "Where did you get to?" he asked. "I Flooed everywhere I could think of."

Sighing, Potter planted a kiss on Draco's cheek -- Severus and Hermione both averted their eyes at the scene. "Got tangled up in Albus' office. I didn't know we had to do paperwork for an Order mission."

"Only when the Ministry needs notification," Hermione told him. "They're really picky about the documentation."

"Bugger documentation," Draco said. "And where's Weasel? I'm starving."

"Right behind you, Malfoy." Ron Weasley's voice floated into the conversation and Severus could see the redhead standing behind Draco with a smirk, holding his wife's hand. "I guess we're all here, then."

Not ten minutes later, Severus found himself seated at a large table in one of the nicer restaurants in Diagon Alley, clutching a large menu that did not appear to be written in English and trying not to yell at Potter and Draco for their obscenely saccharine lovey little conversation. "Why did you think this would be better than Albus?" he asked Hermione through grit teeth.

"Because he's almost as bad about wedding hints as Molly Weasley," she retorted. "And your menu's upside down, by the way."

Deciding that hexing the love of his life probably wouldn't be his best move, Severus simply righted his menu and pretended as if it had been that way the whole time. Unfortunately, it still did not seem to be written in English.

"I'm very sorry about that scene with your mother, Hermione," Susan Weasley was saying as the perfunctory table chat died down.

Hermione shrugged and took a sip of her water. "That's my mother for you. It's really nothing I'm not used to."

"What happened?" Draco asked, leaning over the table and giving Susan a conspiratorial wink.

"Mother found out that Severus was our professor," Hermione replied, shooting Draco a fairly nasty look. "I knew she wouldn't approve and now she's going to be damn near impossible. I'm just glad she doesn't know how to send a Howler."

"I thought I remembered you getting along splendidly with your family," Potter said thoughtfully as he buttered a piece of his roll.

She laid her menu to one side and shrugged again. "As long as I keep everything in perspective, I do. But Mother's never approved of my career choices and she thinks ... well, she thinks Severus is a scruffy hippie," she admitted with only a slight blush. "Of course, it doesn't help that he won't talk to her at all -- he only answers her questions in monosyllables."

Potter snorted into his water glass, but the other three occupants of the table regarded her with confusion. What was a hippie, anyway? Severus wondered to himself.

"I'll explain some other time," she replied to their baffled faces. "I think the waiter wants our order."

The beef was adequately prepared, Severus decided, and served at the correct temperature. He decided, upon taking his first bite, that he did not entirely care for the glaze, but it served him right for ordering something he couldn't even properly pronounce. He settled for alternating between picking at his beef and stealing bites of Hermione's seafood pasta whenever he could manage it. His own pasta was also quite good, and the spartan herbal butter coating appealed to his admittedly austere palette (Hermione called him picky, of all offensive things).

"Hey!" she cried, the last time his fork made a pass at her plate, effectively blocking it with her knife. "You can order your own, you know."

"I just want a taste," he retorted.

"I would have believed that about six tastes ago," she said, wrinkling her nose at him.

In reply, he discreetly poked a couple of fingers into that ticklish spot he knew she had on her left side and smirked as she tried not to laugh.

"Aw ... look at the cute ickle lovebirds," Weasley said snidely from across the table.

Draco took a delicate sip of his wine. "You should see them when they think no one is watching. I always knew Uncle Sev had a soft side."

A quick wand flick later saw Draco with huge boils erupting all over his face and a broadly grinning Severus. "I'm not sure what that was for, Draco," he said as he tucked his wand away, "but I am certain that you earned it."

Laughing at his partner's discomfort, Potter pulled out his own wand and wiped Draco's face clean. "I always said you'd push him too far one day," he told him fondly. "Fortunately, that's one I know the countercurse to."

"You'll have to pick something more exotic next time," Hermione told Severus, patting his arm. "Although I should warn you that Charms was always one of Harry's better subjects."

"Meaning it was one of few he didn't fail miserably, then, I take it," he replied.

"Hey!" Potter protested. "I hung on in Potions through the NEWTs and you know it. My grades weren't that abysmal."

Severus pretended to consider his words. "There were far worse, I'll grant you," he said after a moment.

"Anyway," Weasley continued, picking up the conversational thread. "You've got unfair standards. You've got little Miss Perfect sitting there beside you to compare us all to."

Hermione scowled. "I am not."

"Yes, you are," Draco countered. "Name a single subject you scored less than an 'O' in at Hogwarts."

Head bowed, she mumbled something that Severus didn't quite catch.

"What was that?" Potter asked, putting a hand mockingly to his ear. "Couldn't quite hear you there, love."

"I hate you, wonderboy," she said sulkily, looking up to glare at him. "Flying, all right? I failed flying lessons back during our first year."

Severus blinked. Both Potter and Draco started laughing. "Didn't stop you from enjoying Quidditch, did it?" Potter managed to choke out during his giggles.

"Not Quidditch," Draco countered, chortling. "Just the pitch!"

Reddening, her face settled into a hard scowl. "I was drunk!"

Weasley looked interested. "What happened, then? You've got to remember that I'm not around all the time like you lot are -- I miss things."

"At least now you've got an excuse for being oblivious, Weasel."

"Sod off, ferret. Now ... give."

With a wide grin, Potter leaned over the table. "Well, you see, we were over at the Hog's Head. Me and Draco and Hermione and her dearest, loveliest --"

"Harry," she protested. "Please, don't! It's too embarrassing."

He ignored her. "We were very drunk -- she's right about that. And apparently, on the walk back to Hogwarts, she and her Severus ... erm ..."

"Succumbed to their baser urges," Draco finished with a smirk, ducking the salt cellar Hermione threw at his head. Severus saw the waiter give her a scandalized look.

Susan Weasley's jaw dropped. "Hermione, you didn't!"

Hanging her head, she stared intently at her napkin. "Well, no, we didn't," she admitted. "But only because Minerva McGonagall appeared, screaming her head off."

Weasley began laughing like an idiot, Potter and Draco joining in. Severus felt a blush creeping up his cheeks.

"I don't think she was particularly angry that we were in the middle of the Quidditch pitch at three in the morning without any clothes on," Hermione muttered. "More that about three fifth-year prefects had been standing there watching us, not knowing what to do."

"Professor Snape, that'll be twenty points from Slytherin!" Draco crowed, in a mock-imitation of one of the hapless prefects. Severus charmed his shoelaces to tangle together under the table.

"So she dragged us back into the castle by our ears, ranting the entire way about decency and morals," she continued, shamefacedly.

Deciding that it couldn't get much worse, Severus decided to throw his own two Knuts in. "At least she gave us some of our clothes back before she paraded us through to Albus' office."

"Not enough, though," Hermione said darkly, perhaps forgetting their audience. "I'll never be able to look Sir Cadogan in the face again."

Laughing so hard he was turning dangerously red, Weasley pounded a fist on the table in his mirth. Draco and Potter had already collapsed against each other with their laughter and even Susan was hard-pressed not to giggle a bit.

"Oh, go ahead and laugh," she finally said. "Maybe in about fifty years or so, I'll think it's funny too. Professor McGonagall already laughs at us."

Slowly, the conversation settled back down to more mundane topics, Draco relating the plot of some new Muggle film to an actually interested Weasley, and Potter asking Susan about the baby.

"Did little Andy manage to survive the day with Severus?" Potter asked her. "From what I hear, it was touch and go for a bit."

Susan smiled. "He's fine," she said. "A bit tuckered out, I think, but he had an exciting day. New place and everything. I did wonder where that suit I put him in got to, though. Ron didn't know."

"The house elves have it for cleaning," Severus said as civilly as he could manage. "There was a bit of an ... accident at lunch."

"Oh, yes," she said, nodding. "Andy's got a bit of a sensitive stomach. Poor dear."

He did not want to hear this. For a horrible moment, he thought Susan was actually going to continue her baby prattle and attempt to include him. But in the end, she just turned back to Potter and resumed her previous conversation.

"Not having fun, then?" Hermione asked in his ear.

"Not nearly drunk enough for baby talk," he replied, taking a long draught of his wine. Unfortunately, he swallowed wrong and began spluttering, wine in his windpipe.

Before anyone could blink, Ron Weasley was on his feet, leaping over to Severus' side as if possessed and wrapping his arms around his middle, pushing his fists into his stomach.

"Weasley!" Severus roared through his desperate coughs. "What the righteous fuck are you doing?"

It worked and Weasley went scurrying backward. "You mean you weren't choking?" he asked quietly.

Furious, Severus whirled around to glare at the boy more properly. "To my knowledge, choking people do not actually cough."

"So, I wasn't saving your life?"

"Of course not!" he cried.

Weasley looked positively downcast. "So I still owe you a Life Debt, then?"

Still coughing a bit, Severus rubbed at his neck. "It appears so, Weasley."

With an indignant huff, Weasley slumped back into his chair, Potter giving him a hearty whack on the shoulder as he did so. "Don't worry, Ron," he cried, "you'll get 'em next time!" Severus could tell most of the other occupants of the table were trying desperately not to laugh.

"I think on that note ..." Hermione said, pushing her chair away from the table and giving Severus a significant look. "It's been a lovely evening, but I spent last night killing vampires and today battling the London crowds and Molly Weasley. It's going to be an early night for me."

"I will say good night as well, then," Severus said, putting a hand to her back and guiding her away from the table. "It has been ... interesting, as always."

"Stay clear of the Quidditch pitch, you two," Draco called as they walked out the door. "I'm sure McGonagall patrols heavily out there these days."

Severus almost wanted to stay long enough to see Draco stand up and try to walk, but in the end, he just whispered in Hermione's ear what he'd done to the prat's shoelaces as they walked down the street and enjoyed her giggle.