Snape In Love: Chasing Darkness Away

Chapter 24

Affiliation

"Let me run you a bath," Ella murmured, reaching out to stroke her husband's back as he sat on the edge of the bed rubbing the back of his neck with his hands.

"Mm. Persephone'll be awake soon."

"I know. Don't worry about her, I'll hear her." Ella knelt behind him and draped her arms around his shoulders, resting her cheek against his hair. "You have some chocolate sauce in your hair," she noticed, sucking a strand into her mouth.

"Hah, I wonder how that got there?" he smirked, remembering their lovemaking that afternoon.

"You did seem to put rather a lot of it down here," she smiled, rubbing her hips against his back.

"And I would have spent a good while longer licking it all off if you'd let me," he complained, turning round to nuzzle his nose along hers. "The flavour was quite unique..."

"Stop it, Severus, we have to get up!"

"Spoiling my fun again, Ella?"

"Running you a bath isn't spoiling your fun! I can promise you that."

Severus lay back and allowed Ella to massage his soapy scalp, her fingers alternately circling his temples and smoothing his long hair back from his face. Using a rinsing charm so that he did not have to move a muscle, Ella sighed happily as she felt him sink deeper and deeper into her embrace and she let her hands run down over his collarbone to his chest. His eyes were closed and she wondered whether or not he was falling asleep; the delicate hint of sandalwood and the occasional sound of the water lapping against the sides of the luxuriantly deep bathtub were very soothing.

"I concede the point, this time," he murmured into the silence. "This hasn't spoiled my fun. In fact, I even dreamed of doing this with you, when I was away. Days on end without even a proper wash! Charms are all very well, but there came a point where I was so bone weary I would have welcomed a hot bath. Even one of your cloyingly sweet rose petal ones!"

**************************************************************

His dream of Ella, beckoning to him as he trudged endless roads but always out of his reach, could almost have been a portent, for the next day had seen the trio walking along such a dusty deserted road. He had grown weary of finding fault with everything Black said, for it was too onerous a task and all that he wanted to do was think about Ella and how soon they could all go home. Lupin had developed an annoying tendency to wax lyrical about his schoolgirl lover, and after an hour or so of pointedly ignoring the conversation Snape had eventually found himself answering in monosyllables simply to alleviate his boredom. An hour after that and he began to join in the conversation, reminiscing about Ella, cautiously at first in case it encouraged Black to speak up and offer smart aleck comments of his own. When he did not, instead reacting sympathetically and coming out with the odd commonsense comment that actually made Snape feel a little better about his lot, he found himself looking at him curiously, from the corner of his eye, wondering to his amazement whether there was in fact a trace of bearable character hidden under the veneer of obtuseness Black normally presented to the world.

Late afternoon saw them on the outskirts of the town the store owner had mentioned, and eyeing the Muggle traffic with deep suspicion as the townspeople abandoned the daily grind and made for their homes.

"We'll never find them here! Where on earth do we start?" Lupin complained in bewilderment.

"Simple, Lupin," Snape said airily. "This is the only way into town from the direction they came. They will have been tired and thirsty, as are we. Look around you. Where would they go?" he nodded across the thoroughfare towards a small black doorway with words above picked out in fluorescent paint.

"Magic Mayhem?" Black puzzled. "What is that place, and why does it have an English name?"

"To make it sound exotic, I imagine," replied Snape dismissively. "And you can be sure that Malfoy would have noticed it too. He will at least have made a cursory investigation of the place, and so should we."

"Agreed," Black replied abruptly. Snape raised an eyebrow in surprise. Wonders would never cease.

The club was a cramped, dark place accessible by descending a wide black staircase divided by a sticky chrome handrail. Black managed to destroy any of Snape's less negative opinions of him by elbowing him in the ribs on his way down the stairs and joking,

"This is more like it, eh Snape? Dark and ominous? I bet you feel right at home now!"

Snape sneered at his back as he reached the foot of the stairs and a set of graffiti covered swing doors. The imbecile had no idea, none at all. He did not get a chance to provide a suitable retort, however, because Black had opened the doors and a wall of noise, previously muffled to an acceptable degree, blasted out of the cellar, loud pumping music accompanied by a low humming of excited conversation.

Lupin looked uncertain.

"This doesn't seem like Malfoy's sort of thing at all..." he said.

"A place full of scantily clad Muggle women in various states of excitement and inebriation? I think you over-estimate Lucius Malfoy's sensibilities, Lupin. Come on," Snape replied grimly, entering the dark smoky nightclub.

After a few minutes Snape began to wonder which particular circle of Hell he had descended into. Black was at the bar, as usual, and had three women hanging on his arm already. Snape and Lupin stood to one side, uneasily holding small glasses of an unidentifiable spirit for which they had been charged ten times its normal price as an admission fee. Snape managed to repel most of the female attention that came their way by glaring at them with the look he usually reserved for the Longbottoms and Creeveys of his acquaintance, but some of the more inebriated ones persisted in invading his personal space, pressing up against him and giggling inanely to each other when they realised their words could not be understood by the two mysterious strangers. Snape understood their thoughts only too well, unfortunately, and he recoiled from the grasping, passionless avidity of their attentions.

He glared at Black, weaving his way through the heaving mass of sweating flesh back towards them with a fawning nymphet on each arm. He was beaming, but as his eyes locked on to Snape's, there was something in his gaze that alerted Snape to not turn away with a sneer this time.

The girls said a few words to Lupin, who translated hurriedly as best he could. All three looked from one to the other, and then in silent agreement they disentangled themselves from the women and made a hasty exit into daylight and fresh air. At the top of the stairs, they spoke.

"That way, towards those hills."

"Hills? Bloody mountains, more like!"

"Oh, shut up Sirius, let's go!"

The three companions set off down the street at a jog, knowing that they were pursuing a route followed by Malfoy and Fudge scant hours before.

They soon left the town behind them, and stopped to rest and eat on a stone bench overlooking a lake which they would have to skirt in order to reach the foothills for which they were aiming.

Black had the annoying tendency of talking with his mouth full. Snape had noticed this before, at Hogwarts, but strangely the habit did not seem quite so repellent here, in the open air, preparing themselves for an encounter with the dark. Snape scoffed at himself. He was in no shape to duel with anyone, let alone Malfoy. Exposure to the two clowns with whom he was travelling was evidently having a deleterious effect on him.

"I bet Malfoy was hacked off with Fudge," Black observed through a mouthful of beef sandwich. "Letting his mouth run away with him like that, just because a half drunk wench pretends she fancies him."

"Indeed, for an ex Minister of Magic he was remarkably indiscreet," Snape agreed.

"Then again, Malfoy doesn't know we're on his tail, does he?"

"Perhaps not, but he isn't stupid. He will have his suspicions, be sure of that."

"We'll have to be careful, though." mused Lupin, rummaging hopefully in the brown paper bag that held the remains of their lunch. "If Voldemort's with him, he'll know you're here, Snape."

"I know. And - he does. The Dark Mark began to itch yesterday, I told you that, but now...now it's burning. Here," he said grimly, unbuttoning the cuff of his shirt and pushing up his sleeve. "Look."

The Mark was black.

"Bloody hell," said Black. "So there's no doubt, is there? He's in that bloody bag they've got."

"So it would seem."

They sat in thoughtful silence for a while, and then set off along the small path that followed the bank of the lake.

An hour later they were well into the foothills and the terrain was becoming steeper and more rocky. The only signs of life as far as the eye could see were scrawny mountain goats that grazed on the patchy scrub that had replaced the rolling pastures lower down in the valley. They progressed slowly and on foot, not wanting to use their broomsticks in case their quarry spied them in the sky. They were only too well aware that Malfoy and Fudge could, themselves, have been airborne and therefore miles away by now, but since they had no concrete evidence that they knew they were being followed, they were most likely to be searching for a secluded shelter in the mountains, even searching perhaps for Giantish settlements. Also, there might be clues as to whether or not they had passed that way that might not be visible from the air.

As it happened, they encountered their enemy sooner than they had expected. It was dusk, and they had been scouting around for a suitable cave in which to shelter for the night when Snape saw a dull orange glow in the middle distance.

"Lupin! Black!" he hissed, gesticulating for them to duck down and near him. "Over there! A camp fire, and I see traces of a ward around its immediate vicinity!"

"That's them!" whispered Lupin grimly. "We've got them!"

"Silencio!" muttered Black with a flick of his wand, casting a privacy charm so that their conversation would not carry in the still evening air. "We need a plan," he continued. "We can't just go in there with all guns blazing."

Snape gave him a withering look but bit back the acid retort that sprang so readily to the tip of his tongue, suggesting instead,

"I suggest we wait for a few hours. They seem settled in for the night, all we need to do is wait for them to lower their guard."

"Agreed," said Lupin. "Let's talk strategy."

Two hours later they emerged from their warded hiding place and crept to the crest of the small hill over which they had seen the makeshift camp. All was quiet, and they could barely make out two sleeping figures and a large bag.

"Why do you suppose they didn't find shelter in one of these caves?" Black murmured. This time it was his best friend who was first to point out his idiocy, much to Snape's grim amusement.

"Gods, Sirius, can't you smell it? What's the matter with you? I wouldn't want to be cooped up in a cave with that rotten stench, would you, Severus?"

"Indeed not," replied Snape smoothly. "But perhaps Black here doesn't share our highly developed olfactory abilities, Lupin. Don't be too hard on him, he can't help it," he finished smugly.

"Well, what on earth is it?"

The wind changed, gusting towards them for a moment and sending sparks from the distant campfire dancing into the shadows that surrounded it. Snape suppressed the shudder that threatened to send his body into spasms of nausea. He recognised the necrotic stench of decay only too well.

"It's Voldemort. Or whatever's left of him, anyway."

"I thought he was...well, disembodied, after what happened on the plateau?"

"Yes, but that was months ago, Sirius. Who knows what bodies he's been using since?" said Lupin. Snape looked at the werewolf with a dawning respect. He had underestimated Lupin's understanding of Voldemort's methods, that much was obvious.

"He's a parasite, Black. Lives off other people, given half a chance, like that bumbling fool Quirrell a few years ago. Of course, Potter keeps thwarting him, which sets him back a few years every so often, but he's a tenacious bastard so he keeps on plugging away at it..." Snape mused, straining to make out as much detail as he could of the camp area.

"That's a bit flippant, isn't it, Snape?" Black said critically. Snape turned towards him with a snarl.

"Think of me whatever you will, Black, but never accuse me of that particular attitude, in particular where monsters such as he are concerned!"

"No. Right - o, then," answered Black, suitably abashed. Now it was his turn to surprise Snape with a display of finer feeling. However, Snape had little time to come to terms with his shift in perspective, for Lupin suddenly raised his face up to the sky, and sniffed.

"There's someone else here!"

"What?" Snape asked urgently, twisting to look all around them.

"I think it's Draco!"

Before anybody could react, there was a sudden crack and an arc of silver fire shot across from the far side of the makeshift camp, incinerating a small patch of scrub scant feet away from their position.

"So much for the element of surprise," muttered Snape, drawing his wand and rising to a crouch.

It all happened with alarming speed. One minute the trio was on the ridge casting hexes as forcefully as they could, the next instant they were fighting a rearguard action as well as Draco Malfoy, glassy eyed and moving like a broken puppet, advanced on them from behind. Obviously under the influence of the Imperius curse, he had nevertheless been able to Apparate to their side of the shallow bowl that sheltered the small camp. Apparation when not in full control of one's faculties was extremely dangerous because of the increased risk of being splinched, but Draco was in no fit state to worry about that, and if the maniacal laughter of Malfoy senior was anything to go by, his father was completely unconcerned.

"Stupefy!" yelled Snape in exasperation, aiming the curse at the blond man, wanting to wipe the gleeful smile from his face. Lucius neatly sidestepped the curse and Snape was given an unwelcome reminder of Malfoy's excellent duelling abilities as he countered with a determined Cruciatus. Snape doubled up in pain, only his years of repeated exposure to the Unforgivable preventing him from passing out completely. As he fell on to his side he saw Lupin retaliate by casting Petrificus Totalis on Lucius, who fell backwards into the shadows. One madman down, two and a demon to go, Snape thought blearily as he fought the effects of the curse and turned to see Draco raise his wand to hex him. As he lifted his arm Snape could see clearly the ugly black Mark on the young man's forearm. They had arrived far too late to protect him, that much was clear. Draco's voice rang clear through the still night air as he aimed his wand at Snape's heart,

"Avada Kedavra!"

Snape tried to roll out of the way but his back muscles were still in spasm from the Cruciatus. Black, however, wheeled round as the curse arced from Malfoy's wand, turning his back on Cornelius Fudge, with whom he had been duelling. He shouted,

"Deflecto Incantatem!" and light from his own wand intercepted the curse, directing it away from Snape. Lupin was then able to disarm Malfoy but Fudge had seized the opportunity to hex Black with a hasty "Crucio!" knocking Black off his feet and down a steep scree into the silent darkness.

"Sirius!" Lupin shouted hoarsely, but there was no reply. Swearing harshly, Lupin turned to Draco Malfoy who was standing feet away from Snape, his face devoid of any emotion, his arms slack at his sides. He performed a full body-bind on the youth, and turned to Snape.

"Get Fudge! I'm going after Sirius!" and before Snape could comment, he had begun to skitter down the scree, leaving Snape alone to face Fudge, and whatever it was that had begun to ooze its way out of the carpet bag and wind itself around the ankles of the ex Minister of Magic.

"Fuck!" he muttered, and cast a swift and effective body bind on Fudge. The greasy gaseous ectoplasm let out a bloodcurdling shriek and Snape would swear afterwards that he heard the word.

"Sssseverrussss..." as it circled the hollow and sought its noxious refuge once more in the carpet bag.

He staggered to his feet and drew a protective ward around the area, securing the absconders. They would not be able to escape, and he had more pressing matters to attend to. As he followed his companions down the slippery hillside he frowned worriedly. At what point during their adventures had the welfare of two of the most despised men of his acquaintance come to take priority over the guarding of his greatest enemy, and his nemesis?

This is ridiculous, he thought as he skidded to a halt at the bottom of the slope, shards of stone clattering on the bare rock underfoot. Like I care whether either of them live or die! The horror of it was that he knew he did, and it was brought home to him sharply when he saw Lupin's stricken face in full relief as the waxing moon revealed itself at last. He cradled Black's head on his knee, and he was crying.

"Is he dead?" Snape asked brusquely. Strangely, the idea filled him with guilt. It was something he had wished for often enough over the years, particularly since Black's escape from Azkaban. The Fates knew, there had been little love lost between them, and since he had met Ella the very thought of Sirius Black, with his tight leather trousers and his lechery had sent Snape into paroxysms of jealousy. And yet Black had returned Ella to him, admitting defeat despite having feelings for her, and had just saved his life. It would be churlish not to try and return the favour now. Nevertheless, he had to admit to himself that his concern hinged on more than a mere sense of the need for a little reciprocity in their

acquaintance. He found, in the split second it took for him to weigh up this new situation, that he would actually prefer it if Sirius Black were to live.

"Well, is he? Come on man, move out of the way!" he snapped, impatient at Lupin's apparent inability to answer him. Lupin wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and lifted the insensate Black a little, revealing a dark stain on his trousers.

"Head injury. Bloody great," muttered Snape. "Why couldn't he have broken his leg? Or his bloody neck?"

Snape sat back on his heels and ran his hand through his hair, absently rubbing the back of his head.

"Right. You know what this means, don't you, Lupin? One, we need to get him back to the hostel. We can't help him here. Two, we can't fly there or apparate. Even when he comes to - I said when, Lupin, not if! Now pull yourself together, man! When he comes round, he'll be concussed and we won't be able to trust him on a broom, much less trust him not to splinch himself and us! So, we'll have to do it the hard way, which means that three, there's going to be a delay in our telling Albus and getting Aurors down here!"

"But they could escape! Voldemort could - "

"You don't need to tell me what he could do!"

"Go and get help! Apparate back to the hostel, tell Dumbledore! I'll stay here with Sirius!"

"Not an option, Lupin! Look at you, you're in no fit state to take all of them on, if they get past the wards I set! And if they do, then I doubt all three of us at full strength would be enough! We can't risk hanging around here to find out exactly how powerful Voldemort is!"

Lupin's face had set into grim determination as Snape spoke, and he knew his words had hit home.

"You're right. Check him over before we move him, though, okay?"

"Yes, I'm not stupid, Lupin!" he snapped, passing his wand over Black's prone form and watching as coloured sparks guttered from its tip. The sparks were mostly blue with just a few red ones denoting bruises and lacerations, these concentrated more over his head where the hair was now matted and shining with blood.

"It could be worse," Snape said. "You'll just have to hope that his skull is as thick as his skin! Come on, let's lift him."

The trek back to the hostel took two hours, during which they kept glancing back over their shoulders, aware that they could be ambushed at any moment and not knowing when or whence the attack would come, if at all.

Once they were on level ground they resorted to Mobilicorpus to take some of Black's dead weight, and Snape was relieved for it. He was forcibly reminded of his own rescue from outside the Shrieking Shack, and retrieval back to Hogwarts, and after a long silence said sardonically,

"Your turn next, Lupin, I do hope you realise that!"

Lupin looked across the top of Blacks lolling head, puzzled, and only when Snape glanced down pointedly did he get the joke. He grinned weakly and shook his head, and Snape actually felt a tepid glow at the strange camaraderie between them.

Black had regained a measure of consciousness by the time they had reached the dirt track that led to the hostel, and as soon as they had reached their room and secured themselves within, Lupin made Black lie on his narrow bunk so that he could check the extent of his injuries. He was no Poppy Pomfrey, but both he and Snape had between them sufficient experience of Healing to be able to do what they could to make Black more comfortable, and satisfy themselves that his life was not in danger.

Black was almost as bad a patient as Snape, for he soon insisted on rising unsteadily from the bed in order to sit, head in hands, at the rickety table in the centre of the room. Lupin was able to stand behind him then and perform some more Healing spells, while Snape searched in his backpack for the small pouch of Floo powder he needed in order to apprise Dumbledore of their situation. He threw a generous pinch into the fire that burnt half-heartedly in the grate, and called out,

"Albus Dumbledore!"

After what seemed like an eternity, the Headmaster's head appeared and once its spinning had slowed Snape announced,

"Albus, we found them. They're about an hour east of our location, the one I gave you yesterday. We had to leave them there, bound and warded - Black's hurt - but I left a magical signature, if you send Aurors they'll see it. But they have to hurry!"

"I shall inform the Ministry at once. Severus, is Sirius able to travel?"

Snape looked behind him at the man sprawled out across the table, resting his blood-matted head on his arm. He frowned and glanced up at Lupin, who shook his head.

"No, Albus, not really. He sustained a nasty head injury in the skirmish. We've done what we can, but..."

"Severus, there is something you should know, dear boy. An owl is no doubt on its way to you - "

"Is it Ella?" he demanded, alarmed. "Is she all right?"

"I am sure she will be, yes, as soon as she has delivered herself of your child," came the calm reply.

"She's in labour? Now? Well, where is she?"

"Safely ensconced at St Mungo's, Severus. Please, do your best not to panic. She is in good hands."

"I have to go to her! Now! We must all go, Black needs attention - Albus, don't let anything happen until I get there! Goodbye!"

The Floo connection was broken before the Headmaster could comment on Snape's apparent assumption that he had the power to call on Mother Nature and ask her to postpone Ella's delivery, and Snape wheeled round to see Lupin already stuffing their belongings into their packs. He scraped back a chair and pulled it up next to Black's.

"Sirius?" he said urgently, unaware in his agitation that he had addressed the man by his given name. "Sirius!"

Black raised his head groggily.

"What?"

"We have to go. Now. It's Ella."

At Snape's mention of her name Black frowned and straightened in his seat, wincing as he rolled his shoulders and moved his head tentatively from side to side.

"What's the matter with her? Is she okay?"

"The baby's coming. Can you Apparate?"

"I don't know...I think so."

"Good man."

Snape got to his feet and gathered his belongings while Lupin helped Black into his coat.

"We'll go to the central courtyard, it's the most familiar part and there'll be less chance for Sirius to get splinched," Lupin muttered nervously as he shifted the weight of both his and Black's packs on his shoulders and offered his arm to his friend. Snape nodded his assent, and seconds later the spells had been cast and all three stood in the moonlit courtyard of St Mungo's hospital. Black swayed and let out a moan, clutching his chest in pain.

"Come on!" said Snape grimly, draping the stricken man's arm over his shoulder and heading for the archway that led into the hospital. "Don't make me miss anything!"

***

He did not care that Lupin and Black were there to witness his emotional reunion with his soul's mate. As soon as he saw Ella, standing alone in the middle of the opulently furnished delivery room, her cheeks flushed but her skin otherwise pale and her eyes haunted with worry, he abandoned Black to Lupin and hastened to her, crushing her to him and kissing her ardently, professing his love all the time in between. He had feared never seeing her again and the fear had eaten away at him until he had thought he would run mad with it; but now all of that was forgotten and he rejoiced to be holding her once more.

In his relief he forgot why they were there and so when she suddenly tensed against him and let out a long, low growl, his heart skipped a beat as he wondered whether Voldemort, by some inhuman means, had somehow followed their party back here and was even now in the process of invading her with his evil, clinging on to her back like the depraved succubus that he was, destroying her even as he held her, unable to protect her. Her arms flexed around his neck and she pulled down, hanging from him, forcing him to brace himself. As her distended belly tensed against him he realised, of course, and all wild imaginings about Voldemort fled his mind, only to be replaced by a deeper anxiety.

"Love, what can I do?" he asked urgently.

"Hold me! Hold me!" she gasped as her contraction overwhelmed her; and so he did.

Her labour was long, and its first stage passed as if it was a dream. Sirius was taken to a private room and made comfortable, while Remus and Hermione returned to Hogwarts, promising to return as soon as they could. Snape resisted the urge to insist they take their time.

He was exhausted. The cumulative effect of weeks of trekking, worry and lack of sleep combined with capturing Malfoy et al and rescuing Sirius began to catch up with him just when he felt he needed all of his not inconsiderable wits about him. Ella would need him now, in these next few hours more than ever before, and he wanted to devote his full attention to her. In the mean time, however, while her contractions were still regularly spaced and, as far as he understood it, fairly manageable, he made the most of the quiet hours they spent lying together in the generously proportioned and surprisingly comfortable bed.

They talked, at first, but when it was her turn to tell him of how she had spent the days without him, he found himself mesmerised by the cadences of her voice and the sensation of her gentle caresses on his cheeks and his lips, and lovingly he told her that what she was saying really did not matter to him, for the very fact that they were together and that she was saying it was enough and all that he could concentrate on. When she relaxed into a doze, he joined her; when she awoke, he did too, rubbing her back, breathing with her, murmuring to her, loving her, and all the time holding her close to him. He wondered whether she had any idea how good it felt to hold her again.

The second stage of her labour took him by surprise. She was pale and sweating, complaining of the heat in one breath and cursing the cold with her next. Snape fared little better, finding himself confused by her conflicting instructions as to what he was supposed to do. He gave a silent prayer of thanks to the Fates that the midwife whose presence he had found so intrusive a few hours before now showed no signs of departing until it was all over, for he felt pathetically inadequate and totally unprepared for the momentous changes that Ella's body endured as she gave birth to his child.

Once she began to push he felt as if he was rooted to the spot. He had spent the greater part of his life priding himself on his control. Nothing and nobody had cracked his façade. He had been impenetrable and he had never - never - let his emotions win out over his reason or instinct for self-preservation. And then he had met Ella, and all his defences had crumbled and become dust, and he had surrendered willingly. Now, seeing her transformed into the personification of Woman, a Goddess, he was awed, and speechless. Her strength and her determination humbled him and all he could do was watch as her primal urges drove her to push out his child.

The midwife's briskly efficient voice brought him back to his senses.

"Would you like to see your baby's head, Professor Snape?"

His baby's head. He could see his child. All that he had to do was to turn round, tear his eyes from his love and swallow the lump that persisted in constricting his throat. He turned round slowly to look at the midwife and nodded mutely, keeping hold of Ella's hand but sliding off the bed and taking a step down it to peer anxiously between her parted legs.

"Oh, Ella, I can see its head!" he said breathlessly, glancing up at the midwife as he asked, "Can I touch it?"

Hesitantly he reached down between Ella's parted thighs to where her skin was stretched tight around his child's head. His hand trembled as his fingertips brushed wet black hair, and he gasped in awe, but then Ella began to push again and hurriedly he took his position behind her, putting his arms around her waist and holding her up off the bed a little and firmly against him, his cheek pressed against hers. The helpless torpor that had paralysed him had gone, his first contact with his child galvanising him into action.

"Our baby has lots of hair, Ella! Lots of black hair!" he whispered in her ear. "Now come on, you can do this! Push, love! Push!"

Ella moaned, and the midwife said the words Snape had been longing to hear.

"Now listen to me, Ella, the next time you have a contraction I don't want you to push. Do you hear me? Don't push! I want you to breathe the baby out. If you push, you might tear and I don't want that to happen. Just breathe. Help her, Professor!"

Snape took a deep breath.

"Breathe, like before when I was in bed with you, all right? I'll do it with you."

He locked his arms under her armpits and across her chest and she gripped them tightly, pulling on them as she tried not to push. He breathed and she breathed with him until the contraction was over, and then she fell back against him in exhaustion.

"Here's the head, Ella, you did very, very well! Come and look, Professor!"

Not wanting to relinquish his hold on her, since he knew she would need him again momentarily, he simply peered down the bed and his eyes widened as he saw his child's face.

"Oh, Ella! Oh, look!"

"I can't!" she moaned and as she pushed again Snape saw his baby slide from her in a rush of fluid on to the bed. "What is it?"

His eyes widened in amazement as he looked at the small, mewling infant that lay between her trembling legs.

"A girl! We've got a little girl!" he replied hoarsely.

The midwife wrapped a blanket around the baby and lifted her on to Ella's chest.

"A girl!" Ella laughed, "And she's just like you!"

The lump in his throat could be swallowed back no longer, and he let tears stream down his face unchecked.

"I love you!" he said, not caring that the midwife could hear every word he said. "Both of you!"

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Thanks to everyone who is reading, enjoying and hopefully reviewing this story. Only three more chapters to go!