The Most Difficult Of All Our Tasks
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
27
Views:
26,821
Reviews:
76
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
27
Views:
26,821
Reviews:
76
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Nerves
-- WOW! yesterday this had about 30 reviews, I come back tonight and *blop* 50! really, you guys rock! LilRinnieB - write your story! Read mine later!
-- I've picked out nice names for the girls (well, I think they're nice, but then, I want to call my first son Mycroft!) SP
Chapter the Twenty-Second – Nerves
The months slid quickly by. The two men had selected names for the three girls. All that remained was for the triplets to make an appearance.
Harry had noticed that Severus had become more and more nervous as his due date had approached. Dr Fetch had been very reassuring, and had told the couple that all was well with their girls, and that Severus would likely be right on time, if the skin on his stomach was anything to go by. So Harry was a little at a loss to understand the other’s concerns, especially as he wouldn’t share them. All he could do, and did do, was ensure that Severus was very carefully looked after, and that the boys understood why Papa’s stomach was so big these days. As best they could, Dan and Croft had promised to be good older brothers to their new sisters, when they arrived.
They were all waiting.
At work, Harry was nervous almost all the time. Between lessons he would contact his husband to check everything was all right. He became so worried that he eventually drove Severus to annoyance:
“I’m having children, Harry! I’m not dying. You have brought two children into the world, I am sure I am capable of bearing these girls. Do stop fretting. We have the portrait for this very reason – I promise I will contact you should anything happen. Now get your mind back on your lessons!”
With that he had broken contact, flicking his wand lazily to change the colour of the flames back to normal, knowing Harry would have to scramble out of the fireplace he was crouching in to avoid being singed.
“Git,” Harry muttered under his breath as he rubbed his hot (and, he felt sure, charred) face on his robes. He opened the door and glowered at the group of students waiting outside.
“In. Shut up.”
The pupils gave each other looks. Although not easy going, Harry was usually more personable than his partner.
His class, surprisingly, gave him no trouble, yet Harry was unable to appreciate their good behaviour. He was too concerned about Severus. The other was worried, and he was also much older than the Quidditch lover. Harry knew how tiring carrying a child and giving birth was. He could only imagine how exhausting three were.
“Right, clear away. Your homework is on the board.” He flicked his wand at the black surface and the chalk began scribbling. “If you have completed this lesson satisfactorily, you will have no diff…”
He stopped as Minerva McGonagall came hurrying into the room. “Harry,” she said, in her perturbation forgetting titles, “Severus.” Her eyes shone with suppressed tears. “There’s a problem.”
Harry turned on his heel and raced into the private office at the back of the room. He flung floo powder roughly into the fire and yelled, “Wherever Sev is!”
He vanished.
He fell out of a fireplace onto clean white marble tiles. Around him was a faint smell of herbs and poultices.
A figure dressed as a Healer stopped by him and helped him to his feet. “Mr Potter-Snape,” he began, “your husband is just along this passage. Will you follow me?” He led the way to a private room where three Medi-Witches crowded around a black haired figure on a bed.
“Sev!” Harry yelled and rushed forward.
“Quiet,” the eldest nurse said in a calm, soothing voice. “Mr Snape-Potter is currently asleep.”
“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, terrified and barely able to speak past the lump in his throat.
“Mr Snape-Potter has not opened enough to allow easy delivery of his children. It is normal for the split to be at least four inches in length, Mr Snape-Potter has opened, and his daughters are attempting to join us, but his body has not spread enough to allow that. Therefore we must carefully lengthen the opening with a knife. We dare not risk magic this close to the three youngsters, but obviously we must be careful that we do not catch one of the children, nor that Mr Snape-Potter does not lose too much blood, as he is still sustaining the lives of the triplets.”
Harry tried so hard to concentrate on what he was being told but his brain only really processed three words he had been told: “knife … risk … blood”
“W – will he be all right?” He asked, green eyes dazed.
She put a kindly arm around him. “My dear, we’re very good at what we do. He has the best possible chance.”
Harry stared around him. The white was too white; it hurt his eyes. Things were beginning to blur. The room was moving. What was wrong?
Silently, Harry slid out of the witch’s grip and hit the floor. His nose was bleeding but Harry didn’t care. He wiped at it with his hand and stared, fascinated, at the bright red in amongst all of the white.
“Get another bed,” he vaguely heard someone say.
“What’s wrong with him?” one of the other witches asked.
“He must be … his husband … often happens … never expected …”
Harry couldn’t focus on what was being said. He knew he had missed some words she had said, but he didn’t know what. He couldn’t seem to make his mouth work to ask. His head swam so much. He felt an agonising stab in his stomach and cried out.
“Help him!” Someone yelled.
Everything felt so fuzzy.
Hands reached over to him and swept his hair back from his forehead, and pressed at his body with firm, competent hands. He yelped as their fingers probed down his belly.
His robes were opened and he heard the gasps around him. He was only conscious of the agony burning in him.
“Help,” he croaked weakly, “Sev, help,”
Black edged his vision and marched inward until darkness was all he could see. Then, nothing.
-- Aren't I wicked?! Can't believe we're up to ch 22 already! I'm gonna miss updating this story(when it ends). I have started work on the notes - so let me have any questions. SP
-- I've picked out nice names for the girls (well, I think they're nice, but then, I want to call my first son Mycroft!) SP
Chapter the Twenty-Second – Nerves
The months slid quickly by. The two men had selected names for the three girls. All that remained was for the triplets to make an appearance.
Harry had noticed that Severus had become more and more nervous as his due date had approached. Dr Fetch had been very reassuring, and had told the couple that all was well with their girls, and that Severus would likely be right on time, if the skin on his stomach was anything to go by. So Harry was a little at a loss to understand the other’s concerns, especially as he wouldn’t share them. All he could do, and did do, was ensure that Severus was very carefully looked after, and that the boys understood why Papa’s stomach was so big these days. As best they could, Dan and Croft had promised to be good older brothers to their new sisters, when they arrived.
They were all waiting.
At work, Harry was nervous almost all the time. Between lessons he would contact his husband to check everything was all right. He became so worried that he eventually drove Severus to annoyance:
“I’m having children, Harry! I’m not dying. You have brought two children into the world, I am sure I am capable of bearing these girls. Do stop fretting. We have the portrait for this very reason – I promise I will contact you should anything happen. Now get your mind back on your lessons!”
With that he had broken contact, flicking his wand lazily to change the colour of the flames back to normal, knowing Harry would have to scramble out of the fireplace he was crouching in to avoid being singed.
“Git,” Harry muttered under his breath as he rubbed his hot (and, he felt sure, charred) face on his robes. He opened the door and glowered at the group of students waiting outside.
“In. Shut up.”
The pupils gave each other looks. Although not easy going, Harry was usually more personable than his partner.
His class, surprisingly, gave him no trouble, yet Harry was unable to appreciate their good behaviour. He was too concerned about Severus. The other was worried, and he was also much older than the Quidditch lover. Harry knew how tiring carrying a child and giving birth was. He could only imagine how exhausting three were.
“Right, clear away. Your homework is on the board.” He flicked his wand at the black surface and the chalk began scribbling. “If you have completed this lesson satisfactorily, you will have no diff…”
He stopped as Minerva McGonagall came hurrying into the room. “Harry,” she said, in her perturbation forgetting titles, “Severus.” Her eyes shone with suppressed tears. “There’s a problem.”
Harry turned on his heel and raced into the private office at the back of the room. He flung floo powder roughly into the fire and yelled, “Wherever Sev is!”
He vanished.
He fell out of a fireplace onto clean white marble tiles. Around him was a faint smell of herbs and poultices.
A figure dressed as a Healer stopped by him and helped him to his feet. “Mr Potter-Snape,” he began, “your husband is just along this passage. Will you follow me?” He led the way to a private room where three Medi-Witches crowded around a black haired figure on a bed.
“Sev!” Harry yelled and rushed forward.
“Quiet,” the eldest nurse said in a calm, soothing voice. “Mr Snape-Potter is currently asleep.”
“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, terrified and barely able to speak past the lump in his throat.
“Mr Snape-Potter has not opened enough to allow easy delivery of his children. It is normal for the split to be at least four inches in length, Mr Snape-Potter has opened, and his daughters are attempting to join us, but his body has not spread enough to allow that. Therefore we must carefully lengthen the opening with a knife. We dare not risk magic this close to the three youngsters, but obviously we must be careful that we do not catch one of the children, nor that Mr Snape-Potter does not lose too much blood, as he is still sustaining the lives of the triplets.”
Harry tried so hard to concentrate on what he was being told but his brain only really processed three words he had been told: “knife … risk … blood”
“W – will he be all right?” He asked, green eyes dazed.
She put a kindly arm around him. “My dear, we’re very good at what we do. He has the best possible chance.”
Harry stared around him. The white was too white; it hurt his eyes. Things were beginning to blur. The room was moving. What was wrong?
Silently, Harry slid out of the witch’s grip and hit the floor. His nose was bleeding but Harry didn’t care. He wiped at it with his hand and stared, fascinated, at the bright red in amongst all of the white.
“Get another bed,” he vaguely heard someone say.
“What’s wrong with him?” one of the other witches asked.
“He must be … his husband … often happens … never expected …”
Harry couldn’t focus on what was being said. He knew he had missed some words she had said, but he didn’t know what. He couldn’t seem to make his mouth work to ask. His head swam so much. He felt an agonising stab in his stomach and cried out.
“Help him!” Someone yelled.
Everything felt so fuzzy.
Hands reached over to him and swept his hair back from his forehead, and pressed at his body with firm, competent hands. He yelped as their fingers probed down his belly.
His robes were opened and he heard the gasps around him. He was only conscious of the agony burning in him.
“Help,” he croaked weakly, “Sev, help,”
Black edged his vision and marched inward until darkness was all he could see. Then, nothing.
-- Aren't I wicked?! Can't believe we're up to ch 22 already! I'm gonna miss updating this story(when it ends). I have started work on the notes - so let me have any questions. SP