A Winter Tale

A Winter Tale

By: Max


Inspired by the WIKTT Marriage Law Challenge, but not following it exactly

[Disclaimer see chapter 1]

Chapter 19: Rompers and rumours


Severus Snape lobeinbeing dead. The last four weeks since his “must be mourned premature demise” - as Fudge, pompous as always, had lied by the funeral - he’d felt more alive than in years before and sometimes - even if he would rather swallow his tongue than to admit it to Albus - even happy. Naturally: Happiness in Severus Snape didn’t mean, he was going to dance in joy or to embrace the next human or elfish being as Hermione sometimes did. But it meant that he didn’t mind - at least not too much - that Albus had started to hug him as the usual finish of the evenings they spent together.

As Albus had done it first, Severus had felt overrun - and so idiotically touched he’d said in his most vitriol tone: “I take it, you’re becoming senile. So I don’t feel insulted for being mixed up with Miss Granger.”

Albus - being Albus - had laughed and said: “Does this mean, you won’t give me a sweet good night kiss?”

The next evening Albus had hugged him again. This time Severus had been prepared hissing an “I hate it when you become sentimental.”

But once again he’d got laughter back and a kind: “Sleep well, Severus.”

And so Severus had resigned. He’d always envied Albus for his master ship - no, not in swallowing insults, but in letting them bounce off. In the years they’d knew each other, Severus had often tried to get on Albus, he really had shot from every angle - but only once he’d got something back which had sounded hurt. It haen aen a sad: “I don’t want to believe you really mean that, child.”

After that Severus had felt miserable for days - so much he wished he could tell Albus at least once how he really felt. Yet he couldn’t. Although Albus was the only human being Severus ever had trusted and probably the only one he loved, Severus was afraid to give in to these feelings, to admit them, to speak out loudly what he almost didn’t dare to think. It would only make him feel weaker and more deflessless against Albus than he already felt. And Severus hated weakness; he loathed it especially when it came in connection with Albus.

Actually it had already started in Severus’ first year at Hogwarts. He had been a thin, small boy with swallow skin, greasy hair, a nose much too big for his face and no social skills at all. Having grown up in the dim Snape mansion in one of the wettest and most lonesome corners of Yorkshire with a father who avoided seeing his only son as much as possible and only a terrified house elf to look after him, Severus had never played with other children, he’d never talked to one before he came to Hogwarts. So the noise in the train had frightened him and by entering the great hall, hearing all the laughter and talking and shuffling of feet he’d wished to be back at home where he could escape the world by burying himself in books.

In Hogwarts he’d tried this way of fleeing too soo soon as he’d discovered the library, he’d become a regular there, always hiding with a book in the darkest corner. And if he couldn’t hide in the library, he’d tried to make himself as invisible as possible. Mostly he’d succeeded in that. Nobody had seemed to notice him - except the old man.

Severus remembered how he’d felt the first time. It had been at breakfast in the hall in his second week at Hogwarts. He’d mumbled on a slice of dry toast - the richness of the Hogwarts meals had still irritated him and so he hadn’t tried something else at breakfast than what he was used to from home: Dry toast and bitter tea - as he’d suddenly felt some one watching him. Looking up he’d seen the headmaster’s blue eyes resting on him, unusually sad and grave and filled with something Severus couldn’t describe. But this gaze had warmed him and from then on Severus had by then almost every meal gazed - of course secretly, through his eye lashes - to the head table. Often enough he’d found the blue eyes then watching and warming him.

Then, two or three months after the first eye contact, Professor Sciglione, Hogwarts’ that time potion master, had been away for a conference and instead of him the headmaster had swept in for the traditional double potion Slytherin-Gryffindor class. Severus had already heard - though he never talked to some one in the common room and always hide behind a book, he always heard what the others were talking about - that the old man liked to have fun when teaching and always came up with something Severus found “frivolous”, like a potion to change hair colours or a pimple remover.

Nevertheless: For the eccentricity Dumbledore had in mind this morning Severus hadn’t been prepared. A cheering up potion! Who should need something like that? To Severus it seemed like a mere waste of time and ingredients. As Dumbledore was ready with his instructions for it, the disappointment on Severus’ face - and hadn’t he reason for it? The man in front of him was the former partner of Nicolas Flamel, greatest potion maker and alchemist alive and he was the one who’d invented the 25 uses of dragon blood in potion making, so one could have expected more from him than a cheering up potion, couldn’t one? – it had obviously been clear in his face. Dumbledore had been amused by it. Smiling he’d said: “Actually I thought Mister Snape would like a little cheering, but I obviously I was wrong ...”

The class - especially the blasted Gryffindors and of course, most loud the quartet around James Potter - had laughed and Severus hadn’t known if he felt more hurt or more furious. For a moment he’d hated the old man even more than he’d always hated himself. He’d wished to run away, but instead he’d found himself walking down to the closet where Lily Evans gave out the ingredients to the students. As Severus had just got in line, he’d heard Dumbledore addressing him again: “Mister Snape - would you please come to me?”

Turning around Severus had seen Dumbledore in front of another closet - the one where the finer and more valuable ingredients were stored. Smiling, Dumbledore had said: “Severus, I’ve heard you’re a most able young man ...”

Severus had been confused. Of course, he’d liked potions and he’d read every book about them he could find in his father’s library, but he’d never talked with somebody about it and he’d never shown anything special in Professor Sciglione’s class. So how could the headmaster know?

Severus had almost missed what Dumbledore had said then: “I’d like to giou aou a special challenge. Here ...,” he’d pointed to the closet he’d stood in front of, “... you find everything you may need to improve the recipe on the chalkboard. Consider what you can do based on this potion - I’m sure you’ve already an idea. You can of course ask me if you want to, but you don’t have to. Just serve yourself with what you think you need ...”

Severus had looked at the old man very suspicious. He just couldn’t believe Dumbledore would have really wanted to give him the opportunity he’d longed for since he’d seen the well stocked Hogwarts’ potion stores first time. So looking to the recipe on the chalkboard he’d said cautiously: “You want me to make a pepper up, Headmaster? It only needs some asphodel and powdered bicorn ...”

“Very well - you’ve seen it once. Five points to Slytherin, Mister Snape. Yet ...,” Dumbledore had smiled, “I’m sure you can even do better. Think about it.”

And in fact: After a little brooding over the recipe Severus had an idea - only he hadn’t been sure if it would work. So he’d asked - very awkward and expecting a rebuke from Professor Dumbledore and got not only praise, but a little about his idea, an even bigger reward for him as the 10 points Dumbledore had given him, because he’d felt for the first time in his life that some one had taken him and his ideas serious.

Probably it had started then and although Severus had for long years fought against it - by now he knew, that Dumbledore had won. Despite all the disappointments and arguments in their long history together, despite Severus’ fear of weakness - and wasn’t it a weakness, the greatest weakness thinkable? - Severus had at last given in not only to being loved by the old man, but to love him back as the father he’d never had and as the friend he’d always longed for.

And with loving Albus Severus - though he still often wondered about and though he still refused to admit it loudly - had learned to love 1 ½ other human beings too: Hermione Granger and the child she was expecting.


First it hadn’t been easy. Just on the contrary. Severus had disliked the student Hermione Granger immensely over the first years. Her showing off, her never ending bing,ing, her annoying curiosity, her ambitions and the fact, that she was without doubt Hogwarts brightest young star, but a Gryffindor, had made him almost hate her.

The mage tge to Albus hadn’t changed his dismay of her - just on the contrary. In the first weeks he’d sometimes wished he could feed her the nastiest potion thinkable because he almost couldn’t stand how sad, tired and old Albus had looked in those days. And the comments of the Slytherins! Even with Albus being insult proof as he was - Severus loathed to have his almost-father and friend belittled and he’d blamed the “Granger brat” for making Albus a target for dirty jokes.

Learning, that Albus loved Hermione, hadn’t made the situation more bearable for Severus. He had feared for his friend’s heart and - yes, always honest with himself, he’d even had have to admit that he’d been jealous. She - so Severus had thought - didn’t deserve Albus’ love and devotion, she’d never done anything to earn it and she’d probably even didn’t appreciate it as she should. She was only a silly school girl, all too full of herself and arrogant and in a way even worse then her brainless friends.

The child had changed his view of her. To learn that she wanted to get a child from Albus - Severus obviously had understood quicker then Albus himself, what this meant and that this schoolgirl understood a part of Albus he himself obviously didn’t dare to look to close at and that she was able to give him what he even never had dared to wish. And with it she’d given Severus something too: He who never had felt as a part of a family, who even never had thought he’d wish to, suddenly had become part of a family. He was the son Albus had chosen and he felt now to Hermione and her baby like an elder brother - sometimes one who didn’t like to baby sit the little sister, sometimes one who argued with her about little things, sometimes even one who ranted with Daddy for “you always prefer her” (and by doing so he felt an admittedly childish comfort in knowing, that Hermione sometimes accused Albus of favouring Ses ovs over her when they were battling) - but none of this didn’t change the fact that Severus felt responsible for Hermione and her baby.

Responsible and - in the moment - rather proud to be seated next to Albus in the great hall of Chateau Beauxbaton, waiting for the young witches and wizards who’d just finished their education to appear to get their degrees from the French minister of magic.

Severus knew already, that Hermione had done exceptional well - as it was to be expected from her. Only he’d have preferred to learn about it in another way than in meeting his French colleague Professor DeVale who obviously didn’t think much of the old saying “the mortuis nihil nisi bene”*. Condoling Albus to the loss of his potion master, he’d greeted Severus - who of course was disguised as Johannes Praetorius - with a warm smile and had told then, that Albus “most enchanting wife” had earned top mark. “Of course,” he’d said, “we couldn’t go with her throthe the entire procedure - her pregnancy ... and by the way: Congratulations to becoming a father soon, Dumbledore, congratulations! It’s always such a joy to see new life growing ...,” then, looking a bit lost, he’d come to another point: “You know, Dumbledore, I was amazed at your wife’s knowledge of potions. I considered that your late potion master - oh, by talking about him: Did you know Severus Snape, Johannes?”

Severus had highly regretted that Johannes Praetorius was known as a kind and cheerful man then. It meant that he had to smile instead of sneering at this babbling idiot and it even meant, he couldn’t hex the French dunderhead for his further saying, that Severus Snape had been “a very unpleasant man indeed”.

“You know, Dumbledore, I always wondered how you bared with him. I mean, he was a death eater ...”

At this place Albus had raised a hand and his voice had sounded cold: “He’d made a mistake as a young man, but he redeemed himself very much ...”

The French idiot hadn’t felt too much rebuked by that, but babbled further: “I always thouthatthat terrorizing the pupils isn’t a way to get them interested in your subject. Positive motivation - that’s it. You must show them how fascinating potion making is; you must give them a chance to develop a devotion to the subject ...”

Severus had stood by - and needed all his willpower in stopping himself from asking aloud, why the “positive motivation” always leads to so lousy potion marks in Beauxbaton. His “terrorizing the students” had produced three new potion masters during the 11 years he’d taught at Hogwarts while Beauxbaton hadn’t produced one in 20 years of “positive motivation”.

Madame Maxine Hagrid, Headmistress of Beauxbaton, had rescued Severus and Albus with giving them a hearty welcome - and Severus a moment in which he’d cursed himself because he had for a moment forgotten about the role he had to play. Following the normal routine, he’d greeted Madame Maxine with a kiss on the hand and a few French lines. It had earnem a m a delighted: “Jean?” and –in French - a compliment about having learnt her language at last. Albus had saved the situation in maintaining “Jean” Johannes would only have had learnt this few lines from him for impressing the Madame, but Severus had afterwards needed a few minutes to calm himself.

Now the students were marching down the aisle and behind the flow of violet robed Beauxbaton’s pupils came one small figure in black and white - Hermione, wearing the black Hogwarts robe over the black skirt, the grey sweater and the white shirt of her school uniform. Her tie, neatly knotted under the collar of her shirt, showed red and golden stripes, but on her chest were more colours: Instead of the golden-red Gryffindor lion she wore the complete Hogwarts crest.

Severus who hadn’t seen her for the last fortnight found that her serious face looked very pale with dark shadows under the eyes. And standing in front of a hall, the stranger under the excited and beaming Beauxbaton’s alumni, she reminded him of the nervous bushy-haired 11 year he’d once seen in the hall of Hogwarts. Only now her shirt was tighter over her belly which she’d laid a protective hand over.

Her eyes searched the audience and Severus smiled - not only because Johannes Praetorius would have done so, but because he really looked forward to having Hermione back. For a second she seemed confused - as always when she looked at the disguised Severus, but then she smiled back - and seeing Albus seating next to Severus, Hermione’s smile became a beam so bright, Severus thought it would lighten up the entire hall.

The French minister started with his speech, but Severus didn’t listen. Instead he let his gaze wander through the hall and over the Beauxbaton pupils who had gathered around oe lee left and right side, flanked by their teachers. His eyes caught a bright smile by a well-equipped blonde in a light blue robe - obviously she knew Johannes Praetorius. Severus felt his heart once again speeding up. The blonde looked as if she’d wait for the ceremony’s end to come over and to talk with him. Damn Johannes Praetorius and his looks and his womanizing! Severus wouldn’t have wondered if the blonde was one of Praetorius’ affairs - and what, the hell, was he to do with her? He could hardly dwell in sweet memories with her when having not the slightest clue about Johannes’ relationship with the person!

Albus, instead of helping, was so busy with his flirting with Hermione; he obviously even didn’t notice Severus sweating blood and water. But he hadn’t been Severus’ teacher for nothing. Cautiously tugging at the wand Albus had organised for him - and no, Severus hadn’t asked how Albus had got a spare and obviously unregistered wand - he directed it with a slow movement of his elbow against Albus and, hardly moving his lip, cast a “legilimens”.

Entering Albus’ mind wasn’t new for Severus. He’d done so a hundred times before - first during his legilimens training with Albus as his teacher, later, when coming back exhausted or injured from a death eater gathering, Albus had often allowed him to do so for sharing information. So Severus was use with finding his being surrounded by - no, not thoughts and memories, because Albus was too good in occlumeny to give a legilimens a chance to gather any information from him without his permission, but a bright, warm light. It felt as the sun on a golden October day - not burning, but pleasant and peaceful. Sometimes when in distress and desperate, Albus had allowed Severus to rest in this warmth, a few times Albus had even used the quiet and solitude of his mind to make Severus sleep.

But now Severus wanted neither rest nor peace, but his friends’ attention and so he sent him an urgent “Albus, I’m in trouble!”

The answer came prompt: “Yes, child?”

“The blonde teacher at the left - I think she’s another affair of your damned cousin!” Severus thought.

Albus didn’t move his head. He only let his gaze wander to the left where the blonde played with her long hair. “Toothsome sweetheart,” he gave then back.

Severus once again would have liked to throttle Albus. He sometimes really was nerve shattering. “You look at your wife!” he hissed in his mind.

“Oh, I do - and isn’t she a beauty? Only she looks a bit pale and tired. We must make her eat and rest a lot when she’s at home finally,” Albus thought.

“Damn you, Albus - the blonde! What am I to do if she makes a pass on me?” Severus ranted.

Albus let his gaze wander again, this time to the right. “The redhead in the green robes looks pretty too,” he stated then. “Nice legs ... and the bobs aren’t too bad either ...”

“ALBUS!” Severus needed discipline for not turning his eyes and kicking Albus’ shinbone. “You’re a married man!”

“This doesn’t make me blind, you know? And the redhead is really nice to look at.”

“Shall I tell Hermione?”

“I’m sure she’d agree.” Albus managed to sound even though amused. “But I didn’t think of flirting myself with the redhead. I thought of you, child. You know, the best way to avoid unwelcome advances from a ladyays ays is to flirt with another.”

“You must know!” Severus sighed in thoughts.

“Indeed, I do.” Albus seemed to chuckle. “And you’re to learn.”

“Oh, shut up, Albus!” Severus sighed and closed the connection. He’d heard not only once, but hundred times too often that he should start to have a love life over the last years. He really didn’t need more of it, but for the sake of not blowing his cover, he looked at the redhead in question. He didn’t like very much what he saw. The lady was for once a good bit older than he was and she reminded him very much of Molly Weasley. As much as Severus liked her: Flirting with Molly would feel like flirting with one’s own mother. And if Albus thought he should keep Johannes’ flirting in the family, then Severus had a better idea for a partner.

Connecting his mind with Albus again, Severus thought sweetly: “Albus, the redhead isn’t my type. She’s more in your league, you know?”

Albus seemed to chuckle again. “I’m not allowed to have a favourite league anymore, Severus. As you just reminded me: I’m starting in the couple’s competition now.”

“And a nice partner you’ve got,” Severus gave back. “Would you mind if I’d flirt a bit with her? I mean it would all stay in the family, wouldn’t it?”

“I’ve always knew you’ve got great taste, child,” Albus gave back.

Severus liked how cheerful this thought felt. He hadn’t doubt that Albus trusted him entirely, but to learn again that he trusted Hermione too, was pleasant. It showed Severus once more that the old man really had found love and happiness.

Closing the connection a second time, Severus looked up to Hermione. She was watching now for Madame Maxine calling her and reading loud the grades. But her attention was split - she always looked from the headmistress to her husband and back again. Severus grinned - as Johannes he could do so openly. He’d never thought it possible that Hermione would find one day something more important than her grade and he was sure: If he’d prophesied her only half a year before that she’d spend half her NEWT celebration in flirting with a man she’d probably declared him insane.

Yet the light in her eyes made it not only easy, but almost inevitable to smile at her too and she noticed it and gave him a big smile back before she once again looked at Albus. Now Madame Maxine was through with “Yvert, Patricia” and she laid her list aside and enrolled a single piece of parchment, calling out loud: “Our guest from Hogwarts school of wizardry and witchcraft in Scotland: Hermione Granger-Dumbledore.”

Hermione stepped at the front - and now she looked a bit nervous and then she smile at Albus and Severus seeming to ask for confidence.

Madame Maxine took Hermione’s hand and shaking it with so much force, Severus feared she’d made Hermione lose ground with it, she cried: “Congratulations, Madame Dumbledore! You did outstandingly well. You’re an honour for your school and your teachers and Beauxbaton was proud to have you for your NEWTs.”

Severus saw that a few of Madame’s own students turned their eyes. Obviously they didn’t like very much to have the guest student as the star of the ceremony. But out of the corner of his eyes Severus caught a smirk by a student in the group of the sixth years: A blonde, grey eyed boy who looked proud. Severus started almost to choke. Malfoy beiroudroud for being Hermione’s schoolmate - Severus would have never believed he’d live up to this day! This was worth dying for - especially when he could have so much fun as a body! It only was a pity he couldn’t afford to look too long at Malfoy - as Johannes Praetorius he didn’t know the brat and therefore shouldn’t make himself suspicious. But he could look at Hermione and so he did. She was happy - she looked as if she’d like to dance in joy. Clutching her degree with the one and still protecting her belly with the other hand she fidgeted through the endless rest of the ceremony, her only distraction obviously the flirting with Albus and Severus she managed virtuously.

Severus felt how he himself became nervous and even Albus shuffled his feet and plaited his beard - always a sign of impatience by him. As the ceremony at last was over, Albus was even quicker on his feet than Severus, using his imposing figure - this day in blue and gold - to make way through the crowd for Severus and himself. Yet they hadn’t to march all through the hall. Hermione ran like a hare through the crowd, waving her degree, beaming and crying the same time. “Albus!” She almost jumped at him, throwing her arms around his neck, searching his mouth for a kiss and babbling in the same time: “I’ve made it! I’ve really made it! Are you proud? Outstandin ain all, except charms, but only because I was so nervous and the baby just in that moment decided to wriggle, but I’ve still got an ‘excellent’ and in potion I got extra points and in transfiguration a ‘summa cum laude’ for my swan and they said it’s the first in ten years and I should become a transfigurations mistress and oh heavens, I missed you so much during these weeks and you too, Johannes ...” As always, when addressing Severus as ‘Johannes’ she seemed for a moment to hesitate, but it didn’t really stop word tumbling out of her mouth: “...but you really could have owled a bit more often - both of you, I mean!”

Albus, still holding her in his arms, smiled and looked quickly at Severus. “We’re terribly proud of you, Hermione,” he said. “And we’re very happy to get you back now. Johannes even bought flowers on the market yesterday for decorating your room ...”

“He did?” Hermione beamed at Severus, let Albus loose and hugged Severus, whispering in his ear: “Don’t run away, Johannes” - with special pronunciation of the name.

“I don’t want to,” Severus answered, hugging her back for a moment.

“Even now when I name you a sweetie for buying flowers?” Hermione asked her eyes full of mischief.

“I only did because I didn’t want you to hex Albus for forgetting it,” Severus grinned - and found suddenly, that being Johannes Praetorius really had its advantages. He’d have never been so cheerful in his own skin.

Hermione raised her head and studied Albus’, stroking his cheek with one finger. “I know, you were terribly busy,” she said. And looking worryingly at him, she added: “You’re tired, aren’t you? Didn’t you sleep enough?” Turning to Severus, she said accusingly: “I thought you’d look after him!”

Severus could only laugh. Wasn’t this typical? “You know, Hermione, your dear husband has got a mind of his own. And with me not being in Hogwarts to baby sit him during his last days there ...”

Now Hermione’s face became serious and her voice quiet. “Was it hard, s? Ys? You know, I’d have rather liked you’d have waited with your leaving until I’m back.”

Albus smiled, but his eyes didn’t twinkle. “It was right how it was. But now, with all of us out of school - what do you think about a day off? The weather’s quite nice, we could have a picnic on the meadow down the river - if you don’t want to stay for the feast here, that’s.”

Hermione took his and Severus’ arm. “I hoped already Johannes and I could over vote you if you’d have wanted toy.” y.”

“I don’t. I’d rather like being out of duty - especially with my wife at last back home.” Albus looked at Severus. “Johannes, what do you think? Would you help Hermione to collect her belongings while I say my farewell to Madame Maxine? We could meet then in half hour at the gates.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Severus bowed to Hermione. “Madame Dumbledore, m off offer my services to you? Irettretty good in shrinking and levitation charms.”
“You are?” Hermione stroked once over Albus’ arm, and then she laid her hand on the arm Severus offered her. “Aren’t you a potion master, Professor Praetorius?”

“Yes, I am.” Severus led Hermione through the hall, cautiously avoiding looking at the blonde.

“Funny,” Hermione said. “I’ve ever thought potion masters don’t like silly wand waving.”

Severus laughed - and yes, it felt good to laugh so freely. “Only when they’re in potion making, dear lady,” he answered,mbinmbing with her up the gorgeous stairs which led to the Beauxbaton’s guest quarters. Looking around in the white and golden baroque hall, he said quietly: “Pretty different here ...”

“Oh yes.” Hermione sighed. “I missed home very much. The two weeks seemed endless.” And tugging on his sleeve, she proceeded: “You know, you really could have written a bit more often. I longed so much for information.”

“Didn’t Albus owl you daily?” Severus asked amazed. “And some days emoremore? Woopy already complained that she had to call for post owls twice a day because the mansions owls were always on their way to Beauxbaton.”

“Yes, yes.” Hermione turned her eyes. “The other students laughed already because I got at least twice a day a parcel. Albus and Woopy sent me books and sweets and warm socks and pickles and home made cakes and behaved as if one could starve and freeze to death here. But Albus’ mails were mostly two liners: ‘Dear, thanks for your letter. I’m glad you and the baby are well. We’re well too, only I’m very busy ...” Sighing she commented: “I could have killed Malfoy! With every owl I got he made nasty comments about ‘fluffy love letters’ and asked me through the entire hall how much kisses my husband had sent and if I didn’t mind always getting hairy kisses.”

“He’s an idiot, Hermione,” Severus stated curtly.

They’d reached the room now Hermione haed ted the last two weeks and closing the door behind them, Hermione looked seriously at Severus. “Unfortunately Harry, Ron and Ginny aren’t big writers either, but Ron wrote something about ‘Umbridge trouble at Hogwarts’ again. What happened?”

“Nothing Albus wouldn’t have been prepared for.” Severus started to shrink the neatly packed bags which stood on the bed. “You know how happy Fudge looked as Albus announced his retirement by the funeral. Yet the idea of getting Minerva as Albus’ successor he didn’t like. So he tried once again to install Umbrigde as headmistress. And she didn’t know better than to appear immediately - with decree No. 1256 or so - in Hogwarts and treated Albus with suing him for neglect of duties if he wouldn’t open the wards of his office this time ...”

“What an outrage!” Hermione was furious. “Will this woman never learn her lesson?”

“Oh, I’m sure she will.” Severus grinned. “A part of it Fudge and her got already - the governors’ board told them they wanted Minerva and theyesigesign at once if Fudge would try to overpower them - but not without telling the press why they thought his candidate was unsuitable. Fudge had to row back once again and Minerva got the pleasure to kick Umbridge out for good. I’m sure she enjoyed it immensely.” He shrank the last bag on the bed to the size of a matchbox and put it in an inner pocket of his forest green robes. “Ready?” he asked then.

Hermione looked around, and then she smiled at him. “I don’t think I’iss iss this. But in a way I’ll miss Hogwarts.”

“You’ll come back, I think,” Severus said and marched to the door. “And besides I’m sure: You’ll like to live in the mansion.”

“Do you?” Hermione asked as she went down the steps with him.

Severus sighed. “Yes,” he answered then. “I do. I like the peace there. I like sitting in the library without being disturbed twice in five minutes. I like meals in solitude and I like loitering in the garden without 100 eyes watching me.”

“I think I’m going to like that too,” Hermione answered after a little moment of considering. “I only don’t know ...” she chewed once again at her under lip.
Severus understood. Opening the hall’s door for her, he quietly said: “In the moment he looks forward to having you with him again and he’s glad he’s got a few days off to spend them with you. And then, with the new project ...” Though they were out of the chateau and walking through the garden Sev Severus was careful with what he said - one could never know who stood behind the next bush, listening. “I think he’ll get enough excitement even for his need.”


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


Severus had been right once again - and what concerned him: He soon had the feeling that even Albus got much more “excitement” than he’d have ever asked for.

The first three days after Hermione’s home coming had been very quiet. They had enjoyed their picnic on teadoeadow and Albus, for once not wearing robes, but a muggle shirt and light trousers, had made it clear that he wouldn’t like them talking “business”. So they’d chatted about this and that, laughed and ate together until Hermione had, lying on the blanket with her head in Albus’ lap, had fallen asleep. Severus and Albus hadn’t wanted to disturb her slumber, so they hadn’t spoken, but only know and then smiled at each other until Hermione suddenly had stretchnd snd said with a still sleepy voice: “I’ve had such a nice dream ...” Opening her eyes, she’d smiled at Albus. “The best thing about: It wasn’t a dream. You’re really here ...”

Severus had taken his leave then. He’d started to work on a potion project - after years of teaching and only brewing potions for the Hogwarts infirmary the first time he was working on an invention again - and he’d enjoyed the quiet hours he could spend in the mansion’s lab. Albus had it years ago set up for his own work and in contrast to most other potion masters who worked in cellars and dungeons because a lot of the ingredients were best stored in cool and dark surroundings, Albus had chosen the attic of the big, old house for his work room. With specially warded closets it wasn’t a problem to keep ingredients there and though Severus had felt odd as he’d worked for the first time in the light floated lab - by now he liked it very much to have a look through one of the big windows now and then.

Sometimes he thought by it, that the Dumbledore mansion felt more like a home to him than every other place he’d ever been. Snape Hall, the house he’d spent his sad childhood in, never had felt like home - it was more like a dark, forbidding prison, haunted by too much ghosts and memories. Even the living people - his father and his second wife, the always frightened Lara - had behaved like ghosts and Severus couldn’t remember he’d ever heard some one laugh at Snape Hall. He’d hated the place and therefore he’d sold it immediately after his father’s death, feeling deep satisfaction by it.

Yet Hogwarts, although Severus had spent most of his life there, hadn’t felt like home either. Severus really never had liked teaching - and his rather cruel manners against his pupils had their source at his deep doubts against his own abilities as a teacher. cialcially in his first years he’d sometimes feared potion classes more than death eater meetings and he’d often found himself bathed in cold sweat in the middle of the night because he’d had a nightmare about an incident in one of his classes. The worse part of such dreams always had been the disappointment in Albus’ eyes and often over the days Severus had felt like a prisoner between a rock and a hard place: Without terrorizing his pupils he wouldn’t have managed to keep them so much in line as he thought it was necessary with potions. Yet he’d knew that Albus got a lot of howlers from parents who weren’t in agreement with the potion master’s teaching methods and he knew too, that becoming Hogwarts most feared teacher certainly wasn’t what Albus had expected from him. So he’d lived his first years in the fear that one day soon Albus would lose his patience with him. Every time when Albus had come down in the dungeons or had asked Severus for a visit in his office, Severus had almost expected he would get to hear an “I’m sorry, Ses, bs, but ...”

Albus had never lost patience and so Severus had become more secure. Nevertheless: Hogwarts hadn’t felt like “home” to him. Yet the mansion - Severus remembered how Albus had invited him first there shortly after Voldemort’s first downfall. Until then Severus had - as probably every pureblood wizard from one of the old families - knew, that the Dumbledores owned a great mansion and a lot of land around it, but with Albus always being at Hogwarts, Severus had never ght ght much about it. The bigger had been his surprise to be invited and to learn, that Dumbledore Hall wasn’t a dark, old shag as Snape Hall, but a dainty, rococo building with little towers and niches and bright halls with ceilings on which an entire gods’ community, mostly very lightly clothed, chased each other cheerfully around. And instead of forbidding looking wizards in dark paintings the portraits of the Dumbledore ancestors wore bright robes and were rarely in their own frames, but gathering on a big painting of the hall’s garden where they seemed to celebrate an eternal picnic.
And there was music all over the place - in almost every room hung one painting with musicians and one had only politely to ask for getting a concerto. In his first summer at Dumbledore Hall Severus had spent hours with the musicians. He’d gone from one room to the other, listening to the organ player in the library, the flutist in the garden room, the chamber orchestra in the dinning hall - they played mostly Mozart and Severus fell entirely love with the 41. Symphony - and the very beautiful singer in his guest room who had been a great star at the opera in Milano once and who’d love to sing not only opera arias, but the sweet melodies of the songs Johann Sebastian Bach had once written for his wife. But what had Severus even more with the musicians, had been the bowling alley in the cellar - and that he really liked playing bowling with Albus and his brother Aberforth.

Aberforth - he’d been part of what Severus loved about Dumbledore Hall. Severus had first pitied the man. To be a Dumbledore - son and grandson and great grandson of strong wizards - without possessing real magic of his own, living in the shadow of a younger brother who was named the greatest wizard alive - Severus thought this a fate worse then his own. But he’d soon learned that Aberforth Dumbledore was a happy man. He loved the garden, he was happy with working there all day, humming cheerfully. Sometimes he gave himself a break, and then he would sit at one of the benches, peacefully smoking his pipe and chatting with one of the statues. He loved Albus and was happy when he was at home, he enjoyed sitting with him and Severus in front of a fireplace, drinking wine and listening to what both wizards had to tell from the world outside the mansion, but he obviously didn’t feel a need to see much of it himself. And sometimes Severus had almost envied Aberforth for the peace he’d obviously found in himself.

Two years ago, in summer, he was gone, so quiet and peaceful as he had lived. One morning one of the house elves had found him on a bench in the gardens, his pipe still warm, and a smile on his face. As Severus had come down, Albus had stood bent over Aberforth, kissing his head and murmuring: “Dear brother ...”

The day after Severus and Albus had buried Aberforth Dumbledore on the little graveyard in the garden, on the left side of the grave Albus’ parents shared. Severus had been furious with the entire wizard’s world then because nobody except Minerva and Augustus McGonagall had found it necessary to come. And reading in the “Daily Prophet” not more than a tiny notice, that Albus Dumbledore’s brother had died - not even his own name had stood there - had made Severus fume even more.

Since then Severus sometimes stood on Aberforth’s grave - probably the only living soul who ever went there because Albus never was one for looking back - and sometimes he’d even found himself quietly talking to the white stone with the name “Aberforth Lancelot Lawrence Eric Dumbledore, 1840-2004\".

What would Aberforth have said to the storm his “little bro” - as he’d called Albus who in fact had been even taller than Aberforth - had produced only a week before? Probably, Severus thought, the elder Dumbledore, would have said nothing, but smi smiled. But in the contrast to Severus, who was a pessimist and always preparing for the worse case, Aberforth wouldn’t have doubt for a second that Albus would succeed in his plan.

Severus didn’t think they have had a good start with it. Sure, it had been fun to see Fudge’s face as old Crackebell, the 198 old doyen of the Wizengamot, had at the end of a rather boring meeting, slowly had raised to say with his old, cranky voice: “Minister, the members of our High Council havcidecided to present a candidate of our own for the upcoming election ...” and, after this very formal announcement, had sat down with a chuckle: “We thought you should know, luv ...”

Severus - once again disguised as Johannes Praetorius - had sat with Hermione on the gallery and they hadh enh enjoyed how Fudge had got the right idea without delay. Cracklebell almost hadn’t finished, as Fudge had already jumped on his feet, looking like ‘a tomato which is just about to become ketchup’, as Hermione had said, pointing with his finger on Albus who’d smiled up at Hermione as if he wouldn’t think of something else than shopping phases with her.

Fudge had been so furious, speech had failed him. Panting like a dog on a hot summer day, he’d stammered: “You ... you ... Du .... Du ... Dumbledore!”

Albus had once again smiled at Hermione, the he had turned his head and with the benevolent smile he’d in former times used for exceptionally thick students, had friendly answered: “Yes, Cornelius?”

“You .... You ...” Fudge hadn’t still managed to speak properly. “You did it! You ... you.... Dumbledore, you ... are ...” The minister had struggled for breath once again. “You’re the candidate Cracklebell was talking about!”

“Yes, Cornelius, I am,” Albus had stated.

“But you are 163 years old!” Fudge had shouted - and with this proved once again, how much of an idiot he was, Severus thought. Most of the members of the Wizengamot were in Albus’ age, some of them were even a few years older. To show them that the minister found them too old, certainly wouldn’t bring him points. And Severus hadn’t wondered that Augusta Shacklebolt, mother of Rosmerta and grandmother of auror Kingsley, and with 164 still a very ebullient woman had felt a need to give the minister a good piece of her mind. Albus had stopped her with one look before he’d said - still in his most calm and polite tone: “My father ...” Severus surely wasn’t the only one who remembered Artus Dumbledore had been one of the most beloved and successful ministers the British wizard community had ever had.

Albus had cheerfully proceeded: “... always found I’m a bit slow ...”

Next to Severus Hermione had started to choke - probably because she’d never, even in thinking about for a fortnight, would have come to the idea, that her husband could be “slow”.

In this point she was probably for once in agreement with Fudge. He had looked at Albus with pure hatred in his eyes. “I’ve always knew, you’re after my job!” he accused then.

“But you were wrong,” Albus smiled. “I was not after your job for years, dear Cornelius. I liked being Headmaster of Hogwarts very much and ...” now Albus had risen too and once again he seemed to radiate sheer power, “... I would never have thought of becoming minister of magic myself if you wouldn’t have made such a glorious mess! I’ve warned you more then once, Cornelius Fudge, but then you showed once again that you think more about you than the people you serve.”

The glove was in the ring, but Fudge hadn’t had the courage to take it up. Instead he’d fled and by running out Severus had heard him say: “You’ll see what you’ll get from that, Dumbledore, you’ll see!”

In this he’d kept his word. The next day the scene in the Wizengamot had made headlines in the “Daily Prophet” and directly under the “exclusive reportage by our correspondent Rita Skeeter” the British wizard community had got an article with the headline: “Hogwarts former headmaster - a wizard with two faces?”

In the article the readers had learned that Albus Dumbledore never had liked “playing after the rules”, therefore - so the article - he’d once been expelled from the Wizengamot. About this line Hermione had fumed for almost all day, ranting: “For how stupid they want to sell their readers? If the Wizengamot wouldn’t have learned about this being a mistake, they hardly would have presented Albus as their candidate now, wouldn’t they?”

Albus had only laughed about the entire article. His only comment had been: “If Fudge can’t do better, this is going to be a boring election campaign.” Afterwards he’d kissed his wife, asked Severus to look after her and had gone to a meeting.

Severus had made a mistake then - so he thought by now. He’d wanted to cheer up Hermione and because he loved the freedom the Johannes disguise gave him, he’d asked her for a shopping tour in Diagon Alley. And it had been a pleasant afternoon with buying potion ingredients, rummaging in the book shop, eating ice cream and even getting a few jumpers. Hermione and Severus had have fun by strolling with her hand on his through the wizard’s district.

Yet the next day by breakfast their good mood had once again been spoilt by the “Daily Prophet” and his headline: “Albus Dumbledore - the private man”. Severus who’d been first up in the morning, would have liked to burn the newspaper before Hermione could read the article and he’d even felt furious against at Albus. Merlin’s beard - had the man during his younger days done nothing than hopping from one bed into the next? His record, neatly listed by the newspaper - Severus thought it could have made Don Juan pale in envy! It ran almost over one page and started in 1859 with 16 year old Albus becoming threatened with expulsion from Hogwarts because of being “caught in flagrante delicto” in the head girl’s bedchamber. Only two years later he’d appeared first time in front of the chamber of rights as the adulterer in a divorce. In 1862 - now 19 year old - he’d been sacked as apprentice by his first potion master because he’d seduced his employer’s wife. Two years later the next appearance in the chamber - a young witch had sued him for “breach of marriage promise”. Dumbledore senior had talked his offspring out, but - as the “Daily Prophet” knew from “well informed sources” - he’d paid a big sum for calming down the witch in question.

In 1865 22 year old Albus had caused the next scandal - he’d run away with the wife of a famous quidditch star. Obviously the affair hadn’t kept long because in 1868 Albus had announced his engagement with an Italian witch. The “Daily Prophet” had even found a picture of the happy couple and Severus had to admit: The fiancé of his friend had been a breath taking beauty. Only her beauty hadn’t stopped Albus from cheating on her and because the Italian beauty obviously had got a lot of temper, the “Daily Prophet” could quote the interview from the Roman wizards newspaper where the beauty had advised the English minister that he either should keep his “sexual maniac of a son” on a short lash or mark him with a sign “Can’t keep his robe down”.

As Severus had reached this part of the story, the culprit himself had appeared and looking over Severus’ shoulder, cheerfully said: “Oh - they’ve found that old picture. Lucia was a toothsome lass, wasn’t she? Only she was a bit too jealous. As she found my with her girlfriend she went totally berserk.” He’d chuckled. “She really almost castrated me.”

“What a loss for the female part of mankind this would have been!” Severus had hissed and throwing the newspapers on the table, he’d said: “I really don’t want to spoil your day, Albus, but how will you explain this to your wife?”

“What will Albus explain to me?” Hermione had appeared just at this moment, once again showing her perfect timing.

Severus had with regret looked at the table. Although he still didn’t eat more than toast at breakfast, he really liked the fine china the other dishes were served on. The idea of kipper and plate sailing over the table, joined by a bowl with steaming porridge didn’t appeal to him and the only comfort he could find in expectation of the up coming thunderstorm was the thought that Albus, when becoming target of kipper, porridge and eggs, probably would think again about his folly for women with a temper.

Albus didn’t seem to fear flying breakfast. Smiling at Hermione he said: “Severus thinks you believe yourself married to Saint Albus the Chaste.”

Hermione laughed and laid her hand on her now already a bit swollen belly. Grinning at Severus she said: “Really? Then I should perhaps tell you the story about the little flowers and the bees ...”

“Oh thank you very much!” Severus sounded as in his worse days in a potion class. “The ‘Daily Prophet’ cares rather well for my - admittedly rather small - need for tales at breakfast.” He looked accusingly at Albus. “What will you do now?”

Albus just took a slice of toast and with a wave of his finger, spread butter and jam on it. Biting in it he said: “I thought of breakfast, then a little walk with Hermione - you know, baby and her need to get a bit of fresh air ...”

“Albus!” Severus shouted. “What about this story?”

Hermione, cutting an apple to pieces, had taken the newspaper, leaned it against the tea pot and just read it. Shaking her head, she said: “Dear me! Don’t they have anything newer? They obviously even didn’t know about your relationship with Rosmerta Shacklebolt. I mean, who cares about, with whom Albus shared a mattress in the middle age?”

Albus, stealing a slice of apple from her plate, grinned. “As long as they don’t come after my affair with Queen Ginevra ...”

“Who?” Severus asked curtly.

“Queen Ginevra - King Arthur’s wife,” Albus explained cheerfully. “You know, it wasn’t that boring Lancelot. It was me, disguised as ...”

Severus got finally pushed too much. Banging his fist on the table, he shouted: “This is not in the least funny, Albus. Your troubled past can ruin your chances to win the election. And then we’re in real trouble! So forgive me if the humour of this fails me ...”

Hermione certainly didn’t like some one shouting at her husband - even if it was his best friend. Rather sharply she said: “I actually can’t remember humour not failing you, Severus. Besides: Did you ever use a muggle toothpaste?”

“A muggle toothpaste?” Severus had thought that after 30 years in the company of one Albus Dumbledore strange associations would be familiar to him, but Hermione had managed to make him flabbergasted. “I can’t for the world think what a muggle toothpaste has to with our problem,” he grumbled.

“A lot, dear Severus,” Hermione answered with her sweetest smile. “You know, muggle toothpaste comes in a tube. You know, what a tube is, do you?”

Severus felt like bursting and therefore only sneered at her.

Hermione smiled again. “I see, you know. But did you ever try to get something back in a tube?”

“Of course I didn’t,” hissed Severus.

“You see? That’s what rumours and muggle toothpaste have in common. Once out, you can’t get them in again,” Hermione explained. “You’ll have to find another way of dealing with the mess.”

Severus hadn’t thought he’d ever feel so deflated at breakfast. Raising his hands, he sighed: “Well, well - then let’s deal with the mess. Albus, you’ll have something to say to that.”

“Do I?” Albus raised an eye brow. “I actually don’t think so. I can’t deny I have what you call ‘a troubled past’. But I certainly won’t feel sorry about it.”

Hermione was now finished with the article. Folding the newspapers, she threw it back on the table. “Crap!” she grumbled and looked then at Severus. “But it’s all about Albus’ young days. And young people ...” she sounded as if she were an ancient witch herself, “... make mistakes. Albus was perhaps a bit too much in to women, but other young men did worse ...” She fell silent, but looked serious at Severus.

He felt like being stabbed with a knife. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Other young men did worse. They became death eaters.” He rose and threw his napkin on the table. “If you may excuse me? I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Severus!” Albus’ voice was sharp and commanding. “For Merlin’s sake – sit down on your butt and let’s talk like adults!”

Severus felt too much hurt. Still standing with his back to the table he said: “Why don’t you tell Hermione? She started this!”

“Who behaved the prude, treating Albus like ...” Hermione promptly shouted.

“Merlin’s balls!” Now Albus really sounded angry. “Must I send the two of you back to the kindergarten? Stop this immediately! We’re just on the start of the election campaign. If you can’t stand this, then tell me now - both of you. Then I’ll send you to a long holiday to South America or where ever you can battle with each other without getting on my nerves!”

Severus turned around and looked at Hermione, who chewed on her under lip. “I apologize,” he sneered. “I was perhaps a bit too touchy ...”

Hermione sunk her head. “And I was perhaps a bit snappy. Sorry, Severus ...”

“That’s better!” Albus praised. “Now sit down, Severus, and eat. And promise me something - both of you: Whatever the ‘Daily Prophet’ comes up with tomorrow - you won’t battle about it!”

Severus wouldn’t have thought he’d ever give Albus a promise so easy to keep. But the next day started with Hermione - this morning she’d been the first coming down to breakfast - bursting in his room with the furious scream: “I’ll kill her! And I won’t use a clear, nice killing curse to do so, but I’ll strike her to death with a fly swat!”

Severus, never a morning person and especially not after an evening with Albus and two bottles of Chardonnay, almost sympathized with who ever Hermione’s potential victim was. But as Hermione threw the “Daily Prophet” on his blanket and he saw the headline, he suddenly felt not only wide awake, but like doing magic - such as conjuring a fly swat for Hermione. The newspaper’s headline read: “A modern marriage? Who’s the father of Hermione Dumbledore’s child?” And as the cherry on top the “Daily Prophet” showed its readers a very nice picture of Hermione, smiling up to Severus-Johannes, her hand in his arm and he carrying a bag with the inscription “All for little wizards - Madame Diddleweddle’s baby shop.”


To be continued...

And once again: Thanks to all my reviewers. You\'re really appreciated! And of course thanks to Kristle, my beta reader who worked this night until 4:40 for making sure we\'ll get the \"daily chapter\". ;-)



* Latin for “Don’t talk bad about dead people.”