Unforgettable

Chapter Eleven –

He could hardly wait to sink into her soft, yielding body. Surely she was still awake. If she weren’t, he would wake her. His day had started that way, waking her up as he pushed his inflamed flesh into her. Her desirous, brown eyes had fluttered open dreamily, and she had moaned huskily – a moan, he had sipped with the morning kiss greedily. He’d taken his fill of her. At least, what he had supposed was his fill of her.

Somehow Severus had resisted the urge to enter her thoughts. Greed had incited him to seek the comfort of their warmth, but the lust had propelled him to seek only the physical release his body had demanded. He was a secular wizard, with little need for gods or myths of gods, but he had cried their names as he lost himself inside her.

She had been slow to rouse from her exhaustive sleep and had fallen quickly back to sleep. They had gotten little sleep the night before. Hermione had said little, keeping her thoughts quiet and guarded, even though he had known better.

His young witch seemed embarrassed by what he knew to be true and honest feelings. He’d wanted to assure her, to reason with her, to coax her into verbalizing the thoughts he’d brushed up against, but it had been better for him that she hadn’t. He’d slipped up in the throes of passion, almost revealing his treachery of several weeks ago.

Thankfully, Hermione had suffered no lasting effects from being Obliviated. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Hopefully, exposure was the cure. Continued physical contact was often the cure to exorcise the most basic of lust potions. He would continue dipping into her fount until the urge passed, then he would rid himself of her.

Waving his wand, he unwarded the entrance to his chambers. He hadn’t seen her all day and was actually looking forward to being with her. Teaching and his nightly rounds had kept him from her for too long.

Severus discarded his robe, leaving it in a hasty pile in his bedchamber. Kicking off his boots, he made a mental note that he would need to pick his clothes up later. That was the one disadvantage to house-elves. They didn’t do laundry. As he made his way from his room to the sitting area, he stated unbuttoning his shirt.

He knocked softly on her door, scowling that she wasn’t already in his bed, wet and ready. His scowl grew when there was no answer, so he opened the door.

Her bed was neatly made and her desk was cleaned off. It was as though no one were staying there.

“Hermione?” he called out, hoping she wasn’t ill in the loo again.

Again, there was no answer. Skulking into the living room, Severus stopped when he saw the locket on top of the scroll. He picked the necklace and parchment up, ignoring the meaningless jewelry and unrolling the scroll.

“Dear Professor Snape, I regret to inform you that I am unable to complete this assignment. I have given notice to Eglerns for a replacement to be sent as soon as magically possible. I apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused you, but I have been called away on a private matter. Sincerely, Hermione J. Granger, Curse-Breaker, Gringotts Wizarding Bank.”

Balling the paper in his fist, Severus stormed out of his quarters, intent on seeking a more in-depth answer than the tripe he tossed onto the floor.

--

The next morning, Ginny Weasley was pouring food into the cat dish and making kissing noises. “Here, kitty. Breakfast time for Crookshanks,” she called out excitedly. She was probably overfeeding the orange cat, but she didn’t care. He didn’t seem to mind the food or the company.

Crookshanks jumped onto the windowsill and meowed, eyeing Ginny suspiciously even though the redheaded witch had been living in his house and giving him tasty morsels these last few days. What she was so upset about was beyond him, but he really wished she would stop getting him wet.

“I just don’t know, Crookshanks,” she sighed and stroked his fur and wiped her runny nose with the sleeve of her robe. “What will Mum and Dad say. The twins are going to go ballistic if they ever find out about Harry.”

Mention of the Boy-Who-Defeated-Voldemort caused Ginny to cry harder and Crookshanks to meow in feigned interest. Harry’s scent was all over Ginny. The imbecile rat protector, Weasel King, was not going to be happy that his best friend had planted his seed within his sister’s womb.

Ginny sobbed and stroked the ginger fur. “H-Harry asked me if it was his,” she cried harder and rubbed her face against the cat’s back. “I’ve only ever loved that arse. Now look where it’s gotten me!”

“You!” the irate beast grimaced over his mussed fur. “Thanks to you, I’ve got to spend an hour cleaning myself. Unhand me, stupid woman!”

“And what will Charley and Bill say?” Ginny questioned shakily.

A curt knock on the door interrupted her pity, and she wiped her tears away and prepared to do battle. It could only be one person. Maybe Harry would just go away.

Smelling a familiar, untrustworthy scent on the air, Crookshanks growled. His witch may not be home, but he was determined to protect her from the dark wizard.

Ginny frowned at the cat’s reaction and walked toward the door. “Just go away, Harry! I don’t want to talk to you right now. You’ve said all there was to say last night!”

“I’m not Potter!” an irritated, yet muffled voice scoffed from behind the door.

She opened the door and stared in shock. “Professor Snape?”

--

Well, that had gone better than she thought it would, Hermione thought sullenly. She now had two weeks off and time to think. Eglerns had not been pleased, actually giving Hermione her time off. But a contract was a contract. She just hoped she had a job to come back to once she got her head on straight.

Yesterday had been like a bizarre episode on the telly. All she wanted to do now was turn the channel. After a morning of a tender and explorative love-mak -- sex session with Severus, she’d drifted back off to sleep. Unfortunately, the nausea had other ideas.

Having woken up to lose the contents of her stomach, Hermione resigned herself that she would not be able to shake this flu by herself. So she had paid a visit to Madame Pomfrey.

“Are you certain?” Hermione asked, her face ashen with shock. “But I’m on The Potion.”

Madame Pomfrey patted Hermione’s hand. “Yes. You’re four weeks along by the looks of things. And The Potion is only ninety-nine percent effective. Only abstinence is foolproof.”

Four weeks! Hermione’s memory struggled to grasp the news as the timing played out in her head. What was she doing four weeks ago, and why did four weeks seem like an eternity to her? The celebratory ball! More importantly…the morning after the celebratory ball!

She’d woken up ill, seemingly hungover, with her gown on backwards and a love bite on her neck.

“I’m assuming by the look on your face that this is not welcome news,” Poppy stated softly.

Hermione continued wracking her brain as to who the father might be. She remembered seeing Ron and Harry at the ball and shuddered. Surely she hadn’t slept with either of them. Even if she had, surely she would remember doing so. She’d had some punch, and then she’d woken up.

The sinking feeling grew and Hermione could feel the tears well in her eyes. Things had been going too well. She and Severus…

Oh Gods! What would he say?

“I have a potion that you could take,” Poppy’s voice carried through Hermione’s thoughts. “A potion that…takes care of unwanted pregnancies.”

The panic that had taken hold of her came to a screeching halt. “What?”

Poppy set a midnight blue vial on a table. “However, you have to take this before the first trimester is over. It’s always easier and less stress on your body if you abort within the first trimester.”

“What?” Hermione repeated, her mind buzzing.

Sipping her butterbeer, Hermione set the vial on the table with a shaky hand.

--

Ignoring the questioning stare of Ginny Weasely, Severus stepped over the threshold of Hermione’s flat.

“What are you doing here?” she asked with a befuddled expression.

A combination hiss and growl emanated from the ragtag sofa, causing Severus to draw his wand. “I’ve come to collect Miss Granger so that she may fulfill her obligation to me,” he replied quickly, eyeing the beast whose tail flashed back and forth in fury.

“I haven’t seen her,” stated Ginny as she walked over to calm Crookshanks. “I thought she was still at Hogwarts.”

The dormant flame in the fireplace turned green and Ginny ducked behind her former teacher reflexively.

“I know you’re there, Ginny,” Harry’s disembodied head guessed as it looked around the room. “Quit hiding. We need to talk.”

“Troubles, Potter?” Severus intervened with a snide look on his face.

Harry’s head turned toward the sound of Snape’s voice and his eyes widened in surprise. “Step aside. I’m coming through.”

Severus sneered, his hatred of Potter firmly intact and bent on inflicting any pain he could. So he made no attempt to move out of the way. “You’ve obviously upset this young woman, and I don’t believe you are invited.”

Ginny peered around Severus and hooked his arm through his in a familiar manner. “He’s right, Harry. You’re not invited. My lover and I were having a private conversation.”

“Your what?” both men asked in unison, one voice hurt, the other surprised.

“You were right all along, Harry,” Ginny continued, her voice icy cold. “It isn’t your baby. It’s his! So run along and have fun shagging your adoring fans, but remember to practice safe sex whilst doing so.”

Severus said a silent prayer that she had a squib. The last thing he needed was another go at teaching with a Potter lookalike.

Harry cursed, promising Snape that he was going to make his life a living hell. Then the flame died down.

Tears were flowing unchecked down her cheeks as she saw the green flame in the fire place extinguish.

“You may let go of me now, Miss Weasley,” Severus said, pulling away. “I believe your arrow of revenge was swift and true. Mister Potter shan’t be bothering you anymore.”

Instead of letting him go, Ginny tightened her hold and cried harder, her wails of grief incoherent and hysterical. “Gods, what have I done?”

Severus stiffened as she maneuvered herself in his arms. The young witch had pressed her entire body against his, seeking comfort he was unable to give.

“How could I have been so stupid?” Ginny sobbed. “How could this have happened? I was on The Potion!”

Ascertaining that the woman in his arms was pregnant and the father was Potter, Severus shuddered.

“Why did I give in to him?” Ginny asked her captive audience, then continued without an answer. “He looked so handsome in his formal robes,” she sighed. “I hated seeing him dance with those other witches. I swear I’ll never attend another ball again! What possessed me to make love with him? Mum and Dad are going to kill me when they find out they are going to be grandparents. My brothers will hunt Harry down!”

Severus listened to the babbling witch and continued to extricate himself from her arms. Finally fed up, he snapped. “Miss Weasley, would you please let me go?”

As if coming to her senses, Ginny pushed herself away from the granite statue of her ex-professor and dabbed her eyes wildly with her robe.

Severus straightened his robes and backed away from the Weasley sister, ignoring the continued growls emitted from Crookshanks. “If I am to ascertain this correctly, you are pregnant, and Potter is the expectant father.”

Ginny sat on the settee and tried to pull Crookshanks onto her lap. “Yes, sir.”

“And this blessed conception took place at the celebratory ball?” he sneered.

Wringing her hands in her lap, Ginny sniffled. “I-I’m not sure, but yes, I think so. Harry and I have been… You know…” She blushed furiously.

Severus held his hands up. “That is not a mental image I need to envision, Miss Weasley.”

“He’s like a drug,” Ginny continued. “I can’t get enough of him.”

“Please refrain from speaking of such things, Miss Weasley,” Severus reminded. “Or I shall have nightmares for weeks.”

She said nothing and looked up at him for some sort of answer.

“Tell me one thing, Miss Weasley,” Snape said. “Did you drink the punch at the ball?”

“Y-yes,” she answered slowly.

It was a rarity indeed that The Potion failed, and a similar feeling of dread from the days the Dark Lord had summoned him formed in the pit of his stomach. Obviously, Potter and Ginerva Weasley were suffering the effects of the spiked punch.

Even though lust potions were considered dark magic and illegal, they were available on the market. The Ministry of Magic regulated use of them for magical couples who were having troubles conceiving. They were essentially a fertility booster.

Why hadn’t he considered this? Was it possible that Hermione’s flu was morning sickness in disguise? Was she carrying his heir, oblivious to the knowledge of how she’d become pregnant?

Severus walked over to the door and grabbed Ginny’s over-robe. “Come with me, Miss Weasley.”

“Where are we going?” she hesitated.

“To Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes.” Severus shoved the robe into her hands.

*****
A/N – Okay! Yes, she’s pregnant and she’s obviously not the only one. Cackles evilly! Thank you to all who have reviewed. Reviews really are inspiring. I’d love to thank everybody individually, but AFFnet doesn’t have that feature. Just know that they are greatly appreciated.