Disclaimer: Except for some OCs, the characters here and the world they inhabit are the creation and property of JK Rowling. This chapter takes place during the story line of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

“There's the lady of the house! What has kept you all night?” Severus was waiting impatiently for his wife one night as she emerged from the fireplace.

“You wouldn't believe. Having You-Know-Who in charge of everything is unfortunately good for business at St. Mungo's. I'm bone tired, can we just get to bed?”

“You read my mind. Indeed, I'm ahead of you.”

Emily looked at her husband, who seemed particularly comfy in his dressing gown. “Did Brendon go down all right?”

“He was all that we demand at Hogwarts. He ate his dinner, played for a while, took his bath and went to bed just as Mama always tells him.”

Emily smiled, and Severus saw how weary she was. “Should I call for a tray?”

“No, don't trouble them. I'm not hungry in the least. Let me get comfy and then we can chat about our day. You'll find some parts rather interesting, I think.”

Minutes later, Severus was watching Emily brush her teeth, standing in front of the sink in a chemise that went almost to her knees. The silk of the fabric caught her shape in a way he found quite intriguing. As she was putting her toothbrush away he was unable to resist her ripe form, so he came behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle and nuzzling the back of her neck.

“Severus!”

“I can't help myself.” As if on their own, one hand moved up from her middle while the other moved down. Emily grabbed at the counter top as his intensity overcame her. She tried to turn in his arms, but he held her in place and whispered softly in her ear as he caressed her through the silk. She turned her face toward his lips but even there he kept her from succeeding.

Her moans became intense and finally he took pity on her. He allowed her to turn in his arms as her chemise and his dressing gown fell underfoot. Their kisses became insistent and before they knew it they were lying together in their bed, all thought of weariness set aside for the moment.

Afterwards, Emily lay on her back as Severus looked at her in the light of the candles they had never extinguished. “Emily,” he started, not sure whether to frown or smile, “something is different.”

“Hmm,” she answered. “I told you there was something interesting about my day.”

“Emily?” His hand slid across her middle.

“Yes, Severus, yes.”

“Are you telling me that my seed has taken root?”

She smiled gently. “Yes.”

“When?”

“It was either our anniversary or later that week. The child will be born in mid May.”

“A baby.”

Her smile became a laugh. “Yes.”

“My dear girl.” He hugged her and kissed her. They lay together for a moment, basking in the joy of new life.

Suddenly Severus leaned up and looked serious. “This will be a disaster. The Carrows have said they want to try out the Cruciatus Curse on as many different situations as they can find. A pregnant woman would be an irresistible target.”

“They wouldn't dare. I'm your wife, and those who matter would see this child as a future Death Eater.”

“I don't trust them to control themselves.”

“I'm sure it will be fine. Surely their sense of self-preservation is functional.”

“Then there's the likelihood that Hogwarts will be the focus of future battles. Dumbledore was sure of it, and his reasoning is good.”

“I've always thought the safest place in the world was within the arms of Severus Snape. You yourself have told me that it's here at Hogwarts. How can I be safer than just as I am, right this minute?”

“It's not the same as when Dumbledore was here. I can't provide the same protections as he did. The Carrows' very presence prevents it.”

“Then we just won't tell anyone, Severus. The people we would want to tell don't want anything to do with us. I'll be fine for months this way. I'm tired of being apart, and I want our baby to grow in the presence of his or her father.”

He sighed, defeated for now. “We don't have to decide now. You are quite tired, anyway. Sleep, my love, and know that I'm delighted. I'm very worried, but extremely happy that in the midst of everything, we get this gift from life.” He lay down and took her into his arms, kissing her and whispering sweet endearments into her hair. She was asleep quickly, basking in his love.

---

Several weeks after Harry Potter broke up a hearing at the Ministry of Magic, Headmaster Snape was enjoying a quiet evening on the grounds of Hogwarts, walking with his wife and small son. It had been a mild afternoon and the evening twilight was quite enjoyable. It was a rare moment that the family got to simply enjoy a few moments of togetherness. Managing Hogwarts was a difficult job with the entire staff hostile for one reason or another and three quarters of the student body sullen and ill-mannered. Emily's schedule made it difficult as well, since the hospital was seeing more patients than ever.

When they did get a chance to spend this sort of evening together, they often stopped at the grave site of Headmaster Dumbledore. Mourning the late friend and mentor was difficult as many people would be suspicious of their motives and it would tip the others off to the Snapes' true allegiances. Walks such as this one gave them an opportunity to say goodbye and grieve in small ways privately.

Brendon had tired and was nestling in his father's arms when Hope came running across the lawn. “Daddy!” she cried as she reached them. “Don't let them kill him! Please, Daddy!”

“What is the matter, Hope?”

“Those Carrows--”

“That's Professor Carrow, young lady.”

“They say they caught Neville, Luna Lovegood, and Ginny Weasley in your office, trying to steal the Sword of Gryffindor. There was a huge battle in your office—”

The Headmaster started striding toward the castle, his wife and daughter struggling to keep up. “Where are they now?”

“They're in the Dark Arts classroom. They summoned Crabbe and Goyle and Millicent to torture them. That's how I found out.”

They arrived at the front door. Severus turned to his wife. “Can you take Brendon the rest of the way, Emily? If they were caught stealing something from the Headmaster's office, it's my responsibility to deal with it.”

“Yes,” said Emily, reaching for her son. She went up one staircase as her husband went up another.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts strode through the castle, his robes billowing about him. His daughter followed until he got to the Dark Arts classroom.

“Miss Snape, you shouldn't be here. Go back to your own common room.”

“Yes, sir.” When Daddy spoke like that, he was to be obeyed instantly. At least now she knew Neville and the two girls would get proper justice and would not be tortured for fun.

The door to the classroom banged open. The occupants turned to see Headmaster Severus Snape within the doorway, taking in the scene with a dark expression. “Am I to learn what happened this evening?”

Amycus oiled his voice and spoke whiningly, “Headmaster, we saw that these three had missed dinner and found them in your office, attempting to steal the Sword of Gryffindor. We had hoped to spare you the trouble—”

As Snape looked at the brother and sister, his black eyes took on a dangerous glint. “You hoped to spare me the trouble? You presumed, Amycus? Tonight there was a crime against the Headmaster's office, against the very nature of Hogwarts, itself. It is my responsibility and mine alone.”

A moment of silence fell on the room. The Headmaster glowered, the professors cowered, and the half dozen students present tried not to look at anyone else.

Snape now used a quieter and more dangerous voice. “Amycus and Alecto, you may go now, as well as your assistants. Longbottom, Lovegood, and Weasley will come with me.”

Alecto was reluctant to see her evening's entertainment thus ended. “But Severus— ”

He turned to her. “Professor, I trust you are not going to question my authority. We can go to a higher one, if you prefer. It will end the way it has every time before now.” He looked at her meaningfully and she scurried out of the classroom behind her brother. The Headmaster turned and saw the Slytherin students still standing there. “Are you still here? Return to your common room.”

Headmaster Snape swept out of the room, the guilty parties behind him. They traveled up several flights of stairs in silence and arrived eventually at the Headmaster's office, which was in a shambles. The indignant portraits started clamoring about the deeds of the two professors who had recently been in the room. The current Headmaster lifted his hand.

“I can guess what happened,” he answered. “I said downstairs that a crime had been committed against the very nature of Hogwarts. I didn't say by whom.”

“Sir, that's Harry's sword, now,” said Ginny Weasley, unable to contain herself. “It was left to him in Dumbledore's will—”

“SILENCE, Miss Weasley,” said Snape, with a twisted lip. “That sword belongs where it is until I am otherwise notified by a proper authority. I see that I must deal with Dumbledore's Army decisively. When will you students learn...” His voice trailed off as he noticed his sixth year Charms text on his desk. It was opened to a specific page. This was not the work of any Death Eater. He read the notes he had written in the margin of the page and struggled not to allow a smile to creep across his face.

Snape cleared his throat. “Your detention will have two parts. The first part will be utterly confidential. I do not want to hear the slightest hint that this has happened. The second part will be with Professor Hagrid.”

He proceeded to teach them a spell that he had worked out between his own sixth and seventh year. He knew that his wife had suggested it by leaving the book open on his desk. The Headmaster worked with the students until they could perform it perfectly and silently. Then he took them to Hagrid's cabin and asked the Care of Magical Creatures professor if there was a job they could help with in the Forbidden Forest. Just as he parted ways with the group, Neville followed him.

“Sir, did you just teach us the spell that Healer Snape used to help my parents?”

The Headmaster snorted. “Are you suggesting, Longbottom, that I have wasted my valuable time teaching you spellwork when there is a castle full of fully qualified teachers who have been assigned that very task?”

Neville understood and turned red. “Oh, no sir.”

“I didn't think so. Don't let me hear about such nonsense again.”

The Headmaster walked back up the castle again, smiling at the lights in his living quarters. Within minutes he was putting his office back to rights as his son took a bath and prepared for bed. Domestic cares aside, Severus and Emily found each other in their bedroom. He explored her ripened bosom and the increasing curve of her abdomen as she memorized, yet again, the exact texture of his hair and the feel of his skin as she ran her hands along his back. Another separation would come, but tonight they took advantage of togetherness.

---

Through his seventh year at Hogwarts, Neville Longbottom studied some of his classes and sat through others by day. By night he and some friends found ways to keep the memory of Dumbledore's Army alive. It earned them detentions and that meant being subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. Now that they knew how to reduce the effects of the curse, though, it wasn't as bad as the Carrows thought. In fact, it was amusing, now that more people were in on the spell, to watch the cursed students make much of their “injuries.”

Only three students had any idea where the counter-spell had come from. The others who had been taught the spell under promise of secrecy thought that Neville, Luna, or Ginny had somehow found or come up with the spell. They did not enlighten anyone about the true source of the spell. They knew that the Headmaster was as good as his word. If it ever got back to him, there would be dire consequences.

The Headmaster was an enigma. His method of punishment for the attempted theft in his office was pretty tame. In particular, the fact that he gave them the means to protect themselves was quite confusing. Everyone knew that he was considered the greatest of the Death Eaters, and yet, sometimes he seemed to work against the Carrows while being quite respectful and considerate of the other professors. He regularly came down very hard on Dumbledore's Army, yet sometimes the graffiti they made was left up for as long as a day.

Days after the attempted theft, the Headmaster had made a public announcement during lunch about the removal of the sword of Gryffindor to Gringotts. It seemed that a benefactor to the school had offered the use of his vault, since the school itself no longer seemed to be safe. He stated that it was a shame the school had fallen to this level. Neville looked at the Headmaster carefully. Snape looked furious over this turn of events. As a result, there would also be more protections, in the form of Dementors guarding the outside boundary walls.

A similar enigma was found in the person of the Headmaster's daughter. Neville longed for the days when he could write her short notes asking her to explain things. He even caught himself, a few times, dipping his quill and writing “Dear Hope” at the top of parchments before quickly siphoning the ink from the paper before it dried.

Margo Snape was different these days. He had accused her of being with the Death Eaters. Perhaps she had dropped any pretense she might have been showing. He found himself looking at her from time to time and decided she looked more like her father, now. Her eyes were cold and hollow, a darker blue than he had ever seen. She stalked through the hallways when going from class to class and her robes tended to billow around her, too. She was just as attractive as ever, but it was a cold beauty. It was easy to see why some had started calling her the “ice princess of Slytherin.”

There was a day in Muggle Studies class when Professor Carrow had chosen to Cruciate Zacharias Smith. Neville watched in pride as Seamus cast the counter spell perfectly for the first time. Smith made much of screaming and crying during his greatly reduced torture and Hope had turned her head, her lips twitching with amusement. For just the shortest instant Neville's eyes met with Hope's and they exchanged a knowing glance before her eyes iced over and she looked down at her desk. Neville knew from that glance that she knew the spell and without asking, he knew she would have used it herself if it had been him instead of Smith. He realized that the Hope he had always known very much existed.

He continued looking at her in lunch, wishing she would turn to look at him again, until Luna sat beside him. “You still fancy her?”

“What do you mean 'still'? The word is 'never'. She's not my type, and she's on the side of You-Know-Who.”

“You've been passing notes for years, and you still look at each other all the time. Are you sure she's not your type?”

“Quite the opposite, and how do you know about our notes?”

“You notice a great deal when no one talks to you.” Luna could make the most uncomfortable truths sound commonplace. “She's not on the side of You-Know-Who, and neither is her father.”

“How can you say that, after what he did last spring?”

“I don't know, but I don't think he is. My father is going to publish an expose in one of his spring issues.”

Neville hid a laugh and chose to ignore it. Luna was always saying odd things. If the Quibbler was involved, there was no reason to believe it.

Suddenly Margo Snape stood to go to her next class. Theodore Nott stood beside her and helped her with her books. He must have said something charming because Margo smiled softly up at him and blushed. She happened to glance around the room and her eyes met Neville's again. It was as if a Chilling Charm had hit her. Her eyes froze into the hollow spaces he was used to seeing these days and her smile became cold and mocking. Neville looked away.

Luna was watching the pair walk out of the Great Hall, Nott's hand at Margo's elbow. “He fancies her, but she's not interested.” Luna turned and looked at Neville. “What if you're wrong, Neville? What if there's something we just don't know? What if they've been on the right side all along? What if you don't really have a type?”

Neville didn't know and he didn't want to think about it. He knew he couldn't forgive Margo Snape for being on the wrong side of things. He wasn't sure he could forgive her if it turned out he was in the wrong, and he knew that was backwards. As he mulled it over, Luna patted his shoulder and left for class. Neville looked around to gather his things as well. Suddenly he realized that Luna had never said whom they were discussing. Somehow she had just known.