Disclaimer: Except for some OCs, the characters here and the world they inhabit are the creation and property of JK Rowling.

The Snape family was reunited in England for the summer months. Severus prepared to teach again while Emily started working light shifts at St. Mungo's Hospital. If the two noticed a brittleness to their daughter's behavior, they didn't comment upon it to her. Perhaps they recalled what their own lives had been like at her age. They decided to watch and see what was happening in her life and how she was handling it. As far as they could tell, she enjoyed work and her new found friendships through Auror training. It was other portions of her life that they weren't as sure about.

School started and Hope's parents moved back to Hogwarts. Daddy had taken over the Defense Against the Dark Arts program, and Mum was working again at St. Mungo's. At four and a half and a bit over one, Hope's little brothers were quite a handful, but also great fun. They had learned quite a few colorful expressions from the French and Italian house-elves while abroad. Mum was good-naturedly correcting it as it came up. She was also more cheerful than Hope had ever seen her, getting large again with another baby.

Neville was gone, but he had started writing her again. His letters were mostly about the plants he learned about in their native habitats. He was already filled with ideas for experimental greenhouses, making Margo smile.

She wondered if her own letters were in the correct tone. She wrote about some of the doings in Auror training, including anecdotes about his former dorm mates. She also told him, from time to time, of her family's doings. She told him nothing of her evenings or Ted Nott.

For all that she had embarked on an exciting career and she was living a glamorous social life, things were a bit flat these days. She wondered what charming little restaurant Ted wanted to explore tonight, or whether he had another family party to attend. She hoped he wouldn't feel the need to kiss her. Remembering her mother's analogy comparing reading about dragons in a book and seeing real dragons, she knew that Ted's kisses were the book kind. The two times her lips had touched Neville's, even without romantic intent, had set fires she could never quench. She longed for and dreaded his return, which would both bring him near and take him from her forever.

There was yet another owl from that fashion magazine. They were after her to do a story about what she did now. They seemed to think young women would want to know about training as an Auror while spending evenings as a socialite. She took out some parchment and started writing. It didn't seem like there was much else going on.

---

Emily Snape gave birth to her fourth son in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. Her labor was long enough to properly prepare, but not too long. Her husband sat behind her, holding her in his arms as she pushed and the baby was born. Relaxing back against him in the moments after birth, Emily thought her life was nearly perfect. It seemed as though Poppy and her mother were taking forever to clean the baby up and bring him to her, but Severus's arms around her and his lips along the side of her face contented her for now.

Later that day, they argued over the name.

“Severus, you share a birthday, and he's going to look exactly like you.”

The boy's father growled. “Isn't that bad enough? You want to saddle him with my name, too?”

Emily turned, wincing at certain discomforts, and looked into her husband's face. “You chose all the others before him, and you may choose any others that come in the future, but this one is Severus Snape. If you don't like it, you can take your frustration to your seventh year class.”

Severus looked down at the bundle in his wife's arms. As if in answer to a command, the little face turned from his mother's breast and scowled up at his father. Emily stifled a giggle as father and son stared at each other, matching black eyes to black eyes and frown to frown.

“Are you sure, Emily?”

“It's who he is.”

“Severus Prince Snape, then. He is more than a Half-blood Prince”.

---

SLYTHERIN PRINCESS
A Day in the Life of Margo Snape

by Trudy Maxwell-Deene

One of the lesser known but arguably more glamorous figures in the defeat of Voldemort is Margo Snape, daughter of Hogwarts Professor Severus Snape. Recent students of Hogwarts will remember Margo as a tall, quiet, dark-haired girl with unconventional good looks. Those who were at the final battle will always remember the way she fought, against some of her house mates, to defeat You-Know-Who. Since finishing school, Ms. Snape has joined the ranks of the Aurors by day and the beautiful people by night. What is such a life like? Teen Witch Weekly decided to find out.

I was taken by Side-along Apparition to my appointment with Ms. Snape at the Auror training grounds. As I arrived, a group of trainees came out of a building, joking and laughing. They were followed by none other than Harry Potter, himself. He was rubbing his elbow and shouted, “I'll get you for this, Snape!”

What was this? Some sort of rivalry or animosity between trainees? Everyone stopped walking and turned to look at Margo. The object of our article turned calmly and shouted back, “Hardly, Potter, that was payback for last week!”

Hardly an instant passed before the Boy-Who-Lived smiled in satisfaction and responded, “Oh, yeah. That was a good one.” The crowd laughed and continued into a classroom building.

During a short break before a classroom lesson, Margo explained the incident. “In the process of practicing, we have to duel each other and sometimes we get injured. Last week Potter got me, this week I got him.” She shrugged. “We've long since learned to respect each other and look out for each other. It's a necessity when our lives depend upon it. The old House rivalries of Hogwarts would just get in the way, here.”

Their lives have already depended upon it. In a bold move, the Ministry has allowed the use of trainees in limited situations at times when there are not sufficient numbers of fully qualified Aurors to handle assignments. Minister Shacklebolt explained to this reporter that it's a program that has helped in training and has not compromised trainee or public safety in any way. “Because of the recent war, many of these trainees have experiences that go beyond what they would ever learn in our classrooms,” he stated.

There was a short classroom seminar to go over the techniques practiced that morning, then lunch, and then an afternoon class in communications. After that class, the group went into a wooded area and practiced sending Patronuses with messages to one another. As lovely and well-formed as these Patronuses were, there must not be a Dementor in the district. It was clearly an easy afternoon, and the trainees appeared to be very experienced in that particular skill. Margo received a message from a silvery woodchuck and then sent a lioness to the next person in the chain. Her technique seems almost effortless.

After this practice, training was done for the day, and Ms. Snape took me, by Floo, to her grandmother's London terraced house. Here we cleaned up and prepared for a charity gala being held for St. Mungo's that evening. My hostess was classically stunning in the little black dress robe that has been flying off the Gladrags racks like Golden Snitches. She accessorized simply with a strand of pearls, matching ear-rings, and basic black pumps. Her trademark black curls were swept up onto her head and her make up was understated, except for red lipstick. It's a timeless look that she carries off well. No wonder so many young women try to copy it.

Between the shoes and the hair style, Margo was quite tall, but her date for the evening was taller still. The elegant and gentlemanly Theodore Nott arrived precisely on the dot of half-past six and presented her with an orchid corsage, which she pinned to her robes, declaring herself ready. Theodore put Margo's cloak over her shoulders with a swirl and we were off to St. Mungo's, opting to walk on this mild April evening.

“Margo has a way with her,” Mr. Nott (“call me Ted, please”) told me as we walked. “She will tell the most tightfisted of benefactors about her childhood days spent visiting the hospital with her mother and grandmother and how it now needs upgrades, and they just hand her the Galleons. They can't get enough of it.”

Margo was quick to point out that the benefactors she does not succeed with usually respond to Ted's urging. “We make a good team,” he's quick to agree. This reporter does not want to be hasty in predicting a match, but it's easy to see why the gossip columns continuously discuss the wedding of these two as an unquestioned future event. They form a solid partnership. Throughout the evening, whether dancing with octogenarians or sharing a quiet drink with captains of industry, these two worked the room. They tirelessly continued the work of fund raising for the hospital while adding to the mystique of the glamorous people.

Before the party broke up, I took advantage of an opportunity to ask Margo what the future holds. “Oh, my training will be complete in about a year and a half, and that's my current goal,” she said. “After that, the future is wide open.”

Neville flipped the magazine shut and looked at Hope on the cover picture, except she didn't really look like Hope, there. She looked like the society girl the article described, with the upswept hair and perfect make-up. He flipped back to the article and looked at the pictures of her training, her hair caught into a long braid. These seemed more normal. There was one picture where she seemed to be sharing some sort of joke with Harry and Ron. She looked just like she sometimes looked at him during sixth year Defense classes, back when she was his Hope.

Neville had waited too long. Now that he knew that he wanted her completely, she wasn't his Hope anymore. She was shared with everyone who read this article. Plus, it appeared that Nott had the inside track these days. If the articles he saw in the Daily Prophet were any indication, an engagement would be announced any time now. Gran thought he would enjoy hearing about his old friend, but it was torture. He loved to see her face, but it was heartbreak to know she would soon belong to another.

He set aside all of the papers and the magazine, doused his lights and went to bed for the night. He was Sir Luckless after all. His last opportunity to get this right was probably the day they had watched the back door of the Ministry together. He could remember every second of that event... smelling her hair, telling her she was beautiful, squabbling in front of the prisoners, being compared to Malfoy...

Suddenly Neville sat up. There was something in the article... Using the tip of his wand for light, he flipped through the magazine and re-read the story, looking for something that he hadn't quite paid attention to when he first read it. There it was. He could very well still have his chance.

---

Margo pulled a bag over her shoulder as she prepared to Floo from her grandmother's kitchen to her parents' apartment at Hogwarts. The summons had come rather quickly after the magazine was published. We expect you for dinner Friday evening and the rest of the weekend. There was no “how are you?” or “we love you,” just the summons and nothing else. Margo thought she knew exactly what wasn't said. It was practically a Howler.

Ted had been particularly difficult about breaking off tonight's date. It was some family get together, again. She was sure that sipping cocktails and listening to pure blood exploits would eventually make her ears bleed, but Ted seemed to get off on it. Then there was the inevitable fumble and grope when he brought her home. He interpreted her discomfort as maidenly reticence and if anything it made him more amorous. She was well away from that, at least.

She didn't need to check her bag again. She knew everything was in it. She had cleaned up from her training that day and put on robes that were perfectly appropriate. There was no further reason to stall, and dinner would be served soon at Hogwarts. She took a pinch of powder and stepped toward the fireplace.

“Hogwarts, Professor Snape's quarters.”

She emerged in the familiar sitting room to see her parents sitting together on the couch, which they had turned to face the fireplace. There would be no way to avoid this conversation. Meekly, she sat in the chair her mother motioned to her. She looked at her parents. Her father looked serious, but not angry at all. Mum, however, had a glint in her eye that was usually reserved for broken crockery or games of Exploding Snap that went hideously wrong.

“Minister Shacklebolt said it would be fine--”

Mum's hand shot up. Margo tried again.

“I told them to keep you two out of it and they did--”

Again the hand waved her to silence. Now she was confused. No one spoke for a few minutes. Daddy pulled Mum close and whispered something into her ear. Mum nodded and finally spoke.

“Margo Eileen, you have been a delight to us. No parents could ask for a better behaved daughter, nor one so intelligent and practical. Some parts of your childhood have been difficult and most of it has been a little odd. We forced you to forgo some of the pleasures your classmates experienced, simply because we didn't want you to be targeted or because it would otherwise hurt our family's situation in the war.”

Mum picked up the magazine that was sitting on the coffee table. “This article is not the problem. We don't mind that you gave the interview, nor that you seem to be having a lovely life. What we do mind is that this picture, right on the cover, tells us a completely different story. This beautiful but unhappy girl is not our daughter. You're not really having a lovely life, are you?”

There was nothing to do except burst into tears. “I don't kn-kn-know...”

Daddy came over and lifted her up, guiding her to sit on the couch between her parents. “Are you unhappy with the Aurors?”

“Oh, no, Daddy! I'm having the time of my life with them, truly. I get to learn so much and try so many different things. Even the paperwork isn't so bad after all the homework we used to do here. I'm making friends, too, with people who never spoke to me at school. Now we don't have to worry about sides or Houses. I can't wait to get to the training grounds every morning.” She was practically gushing.

“So then it's your evening activities,” Mum averred.

“Not exactly. I enjoy going out, especially when I get to help at the hospital or the school fund raisers.” This wasn't quite so enthusiastic, but it was clearly not the problem.

“We narrow it down to Mr. Nott,” Daddy stated.

She couldn't answer that one.

“Hope?” asked her mother, “are you in love with Theodore Nott?”

“No,” she whispered with a shudder.

“Is he in love with you?”

“I don't think so. I hope not.” This was difficult.

“Do you intend to marry him?” asked her father.

“He's never asked. I honestly don't know.”

“Can you be happy with him?” asked Mum.

“Maybe. Were you always happy with Daddy?”

“If I had not loved your father, I would have refused his offer of marriage. I might have let him Obliviate himself without even telling him about you. I knew I loved him, though, and I knew I was his closest friend in the world, save one. Plus we had a bond from our school days that I fear you do not have with Ted.”

“But we get along...”

“I 'get along' with Sirius Black, Hope. I couldn't have married him, though. I couldn't really stand the thought of him touching me, beyond the kisses we shared. The thought of you being in a marriage like that...” Mum reached behind Hope's back for Daddy's hand and he clasped hers firmly.

“I think what your mother is trying to say is that you shouldn't wander aimlessly into a marriage you don't want. If you really and truly want to be married to Ted, then that is one thing. He's a fine young man and a credit to his family and his House. If you do not, then perhaps it is time to progress to something else in your life.”

“He hasn't asked me and might never do so.” He would, though, in a heartbeat if Margo gave him the least bit of encouragement.

“Do you honestly think that?”

“Am I supposed to stop seeing him?”

“You have to make your own decisions,” said Mum. “Just be truthful with the young man.”

“I honestly couldn't say whether I would marry Ted until he actually asks me, could I?”

“We want you to be happy.”

“I don't think I can be happy. I don't think I can be much of anything, right now, and as soon as Neville gets home, he's going to marry Hannah and then nothing will matter any more.” The tears started again and Hope fussed at herself. There was no reason to bring Neville into it.

“Are you sure? Augusta told me last week that he will be home soon, but she didn't mention anything about a wedding.”

“It was in the paper that they would get married as soon as he got back, and I haven't heard anything to the contrary.”

Daddy spoke up. “So if you can't have Neville, you're going to throw yourself at Mr. Nott?” It sounded pretty bad when he put it that way.

“He hasn't even asked me! I'm not going to throw myself at him, ok? I just—” Her face looked pained.

“Then what?”

“I don't know. I'll just have to see what happens.”

---

“I can't do this, Severus.” Emily, pacing in their bedroom later. “The reason we have that child is because we turned away from our drastic choices and now, she's going to give herself to that young man in a great act of desperation.”

They had let her return to her grandmother's house after dinner. She was clearly not going to discuss the topic any more and her mother wanted to discuss nothing else. They were at an impasse and there was nothing to be gained by going over it again. This left Emily pacing in her bedroom with her husband watching from the bed.

He got up and stopped her. “She isn't going to do any such thing. We raised a daughter who thinks things through, clearly. She won't do anything rash. She knows we love her and that we care about what she does. She'll make the best decisions.”

“Can you promise me that?”

“I can't promise you anything like that, Emily. You know better. Why are you so worried about this, anyway?”

“It's all on the edge of a knife, somehow.”

“I think you just need something to worry about.”

“That's not it.” Emily wouldn't look up when she said it.

“Yes, you don't need to worry about me anymore, so now you're moving on to our daughter.”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“No? Then how about you go back to worrying about me for a few minutes?”

“What do you mean?” Emily looked up. Was there some new danger of which she was uninformed?

“We've been in this bedroom a full hour and I've yet to feel your lips pressed to any part of my body.”

“Is there a part in particular to which they should be pressed?” Emily's attention was starting to shift.

“There are several, in fact.” A salacious grin started to spread across his face.

“Have I neglected you so much?”

“Horribly.” He tugged at her hands and brought her to the bed, where he proceeded to show her all the places where a kiss would be welcome.