Custody Battle

Back at the castle, Severus found himself pacing about the Headmaster’s study, wearing holes in the carpet, muttering. “And she damn near hexed your brother…what did he tell you?”

“Aberforth?” Albus asked popping a lemon drop into his mouth. “I’ve not yet spoken with him. Why on earth would Miss Granger—”

“Mrs. Davonshire,” he corrected.

“Yes, yes, formalities and all that nonsense, but why would she hex Aberforth?”

“About the same reason I’ve considered hexing you,” he snapped. “You both are two damn meddlesome for your own good.”

The older wizard chuckled. “Ah, my boy, at my age there’s little else to do to entertain one’s self, and if you see it as meddlesome, well that’s just tragic, phooey on you and such,” he smiled to himself and then picked up the silver tin. “Lemon drop?”

Before Severus could answer the door to the office opened and Minerva McGonagall stepped in. “Ah, Albus, I had needed to—” her eyes narrowed to Severus’ pacing figure. “Severus,” she gave a curt nod and brushed brusquely past him.

“And when exactly are you going to stop treating me like some pile of dragon dung that you stepped in, Minerva?”

“Any time soon is not bloody likely,” she spat without so much as turning to look at him.

“Ah, Minerva, what is that that you wanted to see me about?” Albus asked. Although he was meddlesome, he seemed to have a good reign on the elder woman’s temper, at least enough so to capture her attentions long enough to keep them away from the desire to hex the brunette out of the room. “Nothing too serious, I hope.”

She sighed, “Well, no, I don’t suppose, but since Severus is here, it seems alright that I mention it,” and she swept around the desk, plopping herself into one of the arm chairs. “The girl has come to me, asking questions.”

Severus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d been afraid that would happen before he’d had time to sort things out with Hermione. Nobody spoke for a moment. “What exactly has she been asking?”

“Well what do you think she’s been asking, Severus?” the older woman turned to face him, square spectacles slipping down her nose. With a huff, she pushed them back up and then folded her arms over her chest. “Some of the other students have taken to teasing her, with the last name and all of course she’s rather confused.” She hesitated before continuing. “What do you plan on saying to her?”

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean nothing?”

“Nothing, yet, Minerva…the girl’s mother and I have not yet reached a decision on how to handle the matter.”

“You’ve spoken with Hermione?” she gasped, clutching at her heart, nearly feeling faint.

“Yes, and you’ll be pleasantly surprised to know that she’s turned into the very next Molly Weasley, only she’s married a muggle man and they’re only on their fourth child at present, though two more and she’ll have a full set, complete with twin boys,” he rolled his eyes.

Minerva’s face drained, and the woman’s eyes rolled back into her head for a moment. “I don’t believe it!” she sighed. “We had such high hopes for that girl, and now she’s— she’s— a homemaker!”

Albus frowned. “Minerva, it’s perfectly acceptable for the girl to pursue the dream of having a family, and I’m sure, with Miss Granger’s thirst for knowledge, she’s probably experimenting or tinkering on the side, or some such.” His eyes wandered to Severus for reassurance.

He didn’t even bother correcting the older wizard this time, there was no point. He was the only one who seemed to realize that Hermione had grown up, and that time had passed. She’d moved on past Hogwarts, part of which he felt was his doing. Perhaps had he not forced himself to her that night she may have pursued more scholarly options. Shaking his head, he gave a slight shrug of his shoulders and then resumed his pacing. “I need to meet with Mrs. Davonshire once more, however, with her husband’s current attitude…I don’t know that that will be wise…”

There was a scratching at the door. All eyes turned to see it push open, and tottling through it came a tiny house elf that Severus recognized almost immediately. “Kreacher…” he muttered and the elf bowed to him.

“Master Severus,” he mumbled, holding out a piece of parchment. “Kreacher is here on a favor to the mud—” but the elf caught himself and swallowed hard. “On a favor to the friend of Mr. Harry Potter, the female one, sir,” he added and pushed the parchment forward toward the wizard’s hand.

He was reluctant to take the parchment, but the house elf seemed most insistent. The moment he had it securely in his hands, Kreacher bowed, mumbled something Severus didn’t quite catch and then slipped back out of the Headmaster’s door. House elves were strange little creatures, of that he was certain, but as he had recalled, Hermione loathed the use of them, and thus he figured the parchment was of some great importance.


Dear Severus,
You must forgive my husband’s short temper as he’s under a lot of stress at the moment and finds the situation to be all rather confusing. It’s entirely my fault. We do need to sit down and discuss what to do about any questions Caterina might raise, and I do hope that we have some time to do so before she starts asking. If you would be so kind as to meet me this evening at The Three Broomsticks, I’ll be waiting at 8:00p.m. If you are unable to attend, please send a more suitable meeting back with Kreacher.

Hermione J. Davonshire


Severus sighed and crumpled the note into a ball before tossing it in the general direction of Albus, who ducked quickly, allowing it to land in the fire. Looking not in the slightest perturbed, he went about chewing on another lemon drop. “So are you going to meet her?”

“Damn you, old man, I hate when you do that,” he snarled. Turning on his heel, without so much as two words to either one of them, Severus stalked from the room, cape billowing dramatically behind him.

~*~

Time had flown from the time he’d received the message until he stood there, just outside The Three Broomsticks, wondering if they’d be interrupted in their meeting again. As he entered, he frowned seeing the pub quite full, but had no trouble eyeing Hermione. She sat in the far back, two butter beers in front of her. Making his way toward her, he offered a polite nod in greeting.

“Ah, you did make it after all. Kreacher said he left before you read the letter, so I wasn’t certain if you’d been able to make it, though I assumed that if you hadn’t you would have owled or something.”

“Indeed.” He took the seat across from her and picked up one of the butter beers.

“I feel like I should apologize again for Blake, he’s just very overwhelmed.” Severus just stared at her, not saying a word, swishing the weak liquid around in his mouth. “How’s your nose?”

“It’s fine.”

“So how should we—”

“Minerva says she’s already started asking questions. She didn’t divulge what per say, mostly because Kreacher chose that moment to totter through the door, but I’m certain they are most inquisitive, especially if she’s your daughter.”

Hermione’s cheeks flushed. “She is in Gryffindor, isn’t she?”

A scowl came to his lips. “And would you have a problem if she isn’t?”

Again she flushed much deeper red this time. “I didn’t mean—”

“She’s in Gryffindor, Hermione.”

“Oh.” She breathed what she hoped was a silent sigh of relief. She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings, knowing that was once a Slytherin, and for a time had served as the head of house. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was still occupying that particular position. “Yes, well,” she cleared her throat. “I suppose we should try to sit down with her. Has she had Potions yet?”

He shook his head. “She’s in double potions on Mondays and Wednesdays with the Slytherins of course…I swear Albus is trying to bring about my death by forcing those two houses into the most dangerous class together…” he muttered. “As term started on Thursday, she has not yet had the chance, though she will tomorrow.”

“I think we managed fairly well.”

He did not respond, his tongue too ready to shoot insults at her about Longbottom and various other trouble making students, and incidents from her seven years in Potions. “Shall we attempt to see her after her first Potions class or do you think something a bit more immediate is in order?”

Chewing on her lower lip, Hermione took a sip from her butter beer. “I don’t know…” it was all rather perplexing. Her mind was racing, how exactly was she going to tell her little eleven-year-old that she had been lying to her for her entire life? The thought was heart breaking and she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes.

“Please do not start the waterworks, Mrs. Davonshire…” he said, his tone like ice, hoping it would freeze her tears before they could fall.

“I’m sorry, this is just rather difficult.”

The snide remark that was waiting on the tip of his tongue died away as a single tear trickled down her cheek. He’d meant to fuss at her, and trample on the fact that had she told him about the girl when she was born that they wouldn’t be in their current situation, but the tear seemed to glisten and catch his attentions. Without a second thought, he reached across the table and brushed it away with his thumb as she sniffled.

“We’ll figure something out.” It was as close as he was going to get to being supportive.

“What time does she have potions?” she asked, sniffing again. “Perhaps we could have a meeting in your office or something…”

“You said we should talk to the girl, not frighten her,” he smirked and she laughed through her sniffling tears. He was quite the clever man, well versed in whit when the occasion called for it.

“I could pop by for breakfast,” she offered. “Though I don’t want to alarm her, or make her think something’s wrong…” She closed her eyes and began to dig in her pocket, fishing for a hanky, but one was pressed against her nose before she could find her own silk one.

“Blow,” he muttered.

Hermione sniffled into the hanky and then dabbed the corners at her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Perhaps we should do it tonight?” he offered, tucking the soiled cloth back into a pocket.

“But it’s getting late…”

“I doubt the girl’s asleep, Hermione. Even if you were in your dormitory by nine you were never sound asleep.”

“How would you know?”

“I did do bed checks for Professor McGonagall every once in a while.”

“Oh.” She fidgeted in her seat, eyes going everywhere but to his face. “You don’t think it will disturb her?”

“I’m pretty sure that it’s going to be disturbing no matter how we break it to her, however, before my class may be much easier than afterward.”

“Perhaps we could have Minerva—”

“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to keep that woman out of this,” he seemed to snap a bit too suddenly.

“I was just saying that perhaps we could have her call Caterina up to her office and she might let us use her office, since you feel yours is far too frightening,” a tiny smile crossed her lips and she finished her bottle of butter beer.

“Perhaps,” he said. Downing the remainder of his bottle, he placed it on the table and stood. “Where does Blake think you are?”

“At Hogwarts, settling some business with Minerva about Caterina,” she muttered, eyes moving to the ground.

“He’s a right one, he is.” Severus said.

“You’d be going off your fuse if you were in his shoes, Severus.” Her words were short, quick, and stinging. He fell silent, and motioned toward the door. “Very well, then,” she sighed. “Best to get this over with as quickly as possible.”

They walked in silence through Hogsmeade and up the beaten path to the castle gates. He found it unsettling how calm she was. Hermione was normally a woman who’s mouth never stopped running and yet she could not seem to find a single word to say. And although he had always been a quiet person, preferring to keep to himself, he would have gladly started chatting about the weather, heavens even threstals for sake of sound to be heard between them.

In no time at all, they’d reached the main doors and no sooner had they come through them were they nearly both knocked flat on their arse. “Albertson! No brooms inside the castle!” the scratchy voice of Madam Hooch growled, running past them, a blur of silver and flesh. A young boy, no more than a third year at best, was racing around the hall on his broom, evading the Quidditch coach at every turn.

After steadying his balance, Severus narrowed his eyes and drew his wand. “Imobulous!” he growled and the boy’s broom froze in mid air. A moment later the boy tumbled down four feet to the ground. “Mr. Albertson,” he growled, stalking over to the boy. “Fifty points from Ravenclaw and you shall find yourself in detention with me every night this week!”

The trembling boy picked up his room and ran, faster than he’d been flying, heading straight for the stairs, taking them two at a time. Madam Hooch sighed walking over toward him. “I suppose I should thank you? But Severus, fifty points and five detentions? That’s a bit rough, don’t you suppose?”

“You want him to be back at it this time next week?” The older witch shook her head. “Then you’ll learn that the best way to prevent said behavior is through harsh punishment.”

“Indeed,” she rolled her eyes and then found that they fell to focus on the woman beside him. “Good heavens, Hermione Granger?” she asked, stepping toward her. “It’s been ages!” she beamed and wrapped both her arms around the younger woman.

Hermione blushed, a bit surprised that the woman remembered her, after all, she’d never excelled at flying and hadn’t bothered with it after first year’s requirement. She didn’t even really like Quidditch. “Yes, Madam Hooch,” she smiled at the older woman. “Though it’s Davonshire now.”

“Oh, yes, of course! Of course!” Her smile grew wider as she nodded her head, silvery spikes flashing this way and that as her gruff voice carried on. “Do tell me, dear, what are you up to these days? You must be making the wizarding world very proud.”

Severus had had enough. “Yes, indeed she is, four children and a grumpy husband, do excuse us,” he nodded and took Hermione by the arm, dragging her toward the staircase.

“Oh! That’s lovely!” she said, waving to them as they headed up the stairs. Her face was slightly crestfallen once they were far enough away not to notice. “Hermione Granger, a house wife? Now I know the world’s gone batty.”

“What on earth did you do that for?” Hermione snapped, pulling smartly away from him.

“She was going to stand there and talk you to death.”

“Madam Hooch is a particularly charming woman—”

“Yes, she’ll charm the ears right off a brass monkey. You try working with her for thirty years and tell me how bloody charming you think she is…” he narrowed his eyes and then his gaze softened ever so slightly. “We have a daughter to attend to?”

What seemed like an hour later, he paced around Minerva’s office, anxiously awaiting the arrival of Hermione and Caterina. It had taken a good deal of convincing on Hermione’s part to get the old woman out of her office. He was just about to give up, thinking that perhaps Hermione had changed her mind when the door opened and she walked on, a sleepy looking girl holding her hand.

He froze, dead in his tracks, eyes going right to the young girl. He hadn’t had a proper look at her during the sorting ceremony as her back was to him for most of the time, and he’d done his best to avoid her since then until he could be certain. But Hermione had not lied, she was a beautiful blend of their worst features, his deep-set brooding eyes, and her long bushy hair, though it was a dark shade of raven like his own. Her nose was slightly larger than he thought appropriate for her face, but her lips were thin, the bottom one slightly plumper than the top and clearly she’d inherited her mother’s dimpled chin.

The door closed quietly behind them and Hermione knelt down beside her. “It’s ok, Caterina.” She said quietly and then gave her a gentle nudge on the back. Severus sank to one knee very carefully, waiting for the girl to walk toward him.

One very timid step at a time, she made her way across the room from Hermione to him and her big eyes widened as she took him in, her hands going right to his face. He held completely still, even holding his breath, while her fingers traced over his nose, and his jaw, tugging at his lips and then patting the top of his head. “You’re my real daddy.” The girl said.

It was more of a statement, not filled with wonder or question, just a simple statement of perhaps acknowledgement. “Yes.” He said. Severus remained on his knees as the girl turned her head over her shoulder, looking toward her mother for guidance. Hermione nudged her head forward, and the girl turned back to look at him. Her arms were thin and slender as they wrapped around his neck. She was hugging him.

Ever so slowly, he pulled his arms around her, not wanting to frighten the girl, and he held her in a warm embrace. A tear fell down his cheek as Hermione got up and moved toward them. She crouched down once more, beside them, her hand coming to stroke her daughter’s hair.

“Why doesn’t he live with us, and what about daddy at home?” she asked, her voice innocent and yet filled with that curiosity that he’d heard nearly twenty-two years ago, burning from Hermione’s own voice on her very first day of Potions class.

His eyes flickered to Hermione, searching for answers.

“Cat, sometimes when mommies and daddies have a baby they don’t live together…” Hermione said softly. Her daughter tilted her head onto Severus’ shoulder and looked at her. “And sometimes they do, like daddy at home…”

“Can I have two daddies?” she asked, her arms still draped around his neck.

“Of course you can,” she said softly. “This is your birth daddy, the one who helped mommy—” she paused fighting back the flush in her cheek. “The one who the stork picked…”

Caterina turned her head to look at Severus and her eyes rolled up into her head. She pressed her lips to his ear and whispered, “She thinks I still believe in the stork…Father Christmas too.” Severus did all he could not to chuckle as he nodded his head. “I know where babies come from, they grow inside a mother’s belly after a mummy and a daddy have made love.” His cheeks tinged slightly pink at that comment. He’d not ever expected an eleven-year-old girl, especially not his own, to be discussing the birds and the bees with him.

“And daddy back home loves you very much,” Hermione said.

Again the girl turned her eyes toward Severus, though she kept her arms around his neck. “You don’t have to love me you don’t know me very well, so if you don’t love me right away, that’s ok. But I hope that you will love me eventually.” Her words nearly broke his heart.

“You are my daughter, of course I love you. I don’t need to know you to know I love you.” He said and pulled her into a tighter hug.

Hermione could hardly believe what she was seeing. Either her eyes were delusional or her ears deceived her, but it seemed unfathomable for the exchange of free emotions between her oldest daughter and the Potions Master to be occurring as easily as it did. “Now, your daddy is—”

“My teacher, I know,” she said with curious eyes turned toward her mother. “He teaches potions. Emma Weasley told me that.” She said almost proudly, smiling at the mention of a friend.

Severus nodded and for the first time since she’d hugged him, he let her go. “I can be very mean spirited, Caterina, and I don’t want you to take it personally.”

“Yeah, Emma told me that too. She called you a right bloody git, and a brooding bat, and some other name, but she told me I shouldn’t repeat the last one.” Hermione’s cheeks flushed at her daughter’s language but Severus merely chuckled. “She said you might yell at me and give me detention, because that’s what you do to all the students and that I won’t get special treatment because I’m your daughter.”

He nodded his head slowly. “I’ll do my best not to yell, unnecessarily,” he said. “Keep yourself out of trouble, follow instructions, do your homework, and I won’t have to worry about seeing you in detention.” He was firm but his eyes were kind, looking down at her as she gazed up at him.

“And Caterina,” Hermione interrupted, looking concerned. “I think it best if you don’t go…hugging daddy or being over affectionate toward him during class or any other time, really,” she added.

With a hand on her hip, the young girl turned her head toward Hermione. “Mother, do you think I’m stupid?” she cocked her head to the side. “I don’t think I want to be the most unpopular first year ever, I would never hug a teacher, even if he is my daddy.”

Severus let loose a belly laugh, his face a bright smile and the girl smirked up at him. “Dear Lord, she’s even got my smirk,” he muttered and gazed at Hermione who looked rather off-put by the whole matter. Clearing his throat, he gazed down at her. “That wasn’t very nice, Caterina,” he said. “Your mother is just trying to look out for you.”

“Sorry,” she muttered and then wrapped her arms around him once more. He picked her up, holding her easily in his arms, almost as naturally as he’d held Hermione’s youngest daughter the day before. Again her voice dropped to a whisper and she had her lips against his ear. “I can’t tell mummy, but I’ve known since I was seven that daddy at home wasn’t really daddy.”

For being a bright witch, Severus was certainly surprised about the things her daughter knew that she believed she didn’t. Or perhaps it was that Hermione simply didn’t wish to believe that her daughter knew about the birds and the bees, or about Blake not being her real father, for childlike innocence was too precious to corrupt with such thoughts.

Setting her down he tightened his lips into a scowl. “Back to Gryffindor Tower, young lady, its past curfew.” His arms crossed over his chest and he stood, tall as ever, gazing down upon her. Caterina scuttled to the door and looked back at him, changed her mind and ran back toward him, throwing her arms around him once more. “Oof!” he cried, caught suddenly off guard by her onslaught of affection.

“I love you, daddy.” She whispered and kissed his cheek.

“I love you too, dear.”

“Goodnight, mummy,” she smiled and half-heartedly hugged Hermione as she danced her way to the door and let herself out.

Standing there speechless, she had hardly been able to hug the girl back, let alone wish her goodnight. Her eyes turned to Severus and they watered. “That went— rather, well it went rather well, don’t you think?” she sniffed and began to sob once more.

“If that’s the case, then why are you crying again?” he asked, and walked to her, drawing the hanky out from his pocket. “Blow,” he instructed and she did. Before he could say anything further, her head was against his chest, and she was sobbing. Tucking the hanky back into his pocket, he slowly wrapped an arm around her, patting her shoulder, rubbing her back with his hand. “Hermione, it’s going to be alright.”

Sniffling, she nodded. “I’m sorry, I’m a mess, I just— this is so difficult, I don’t want it to split my family apart…”

“It won’t, Hermione, it’s not like I’m going to take her and run…” though the thought had crossed his mind, it was only fleeting and hardly practical.

“I know— I know you wouldn’t, Severus, it’s not that. It’s just—” she sighed and then hiccoughed. “Blake isn’t adjusting well at all to this and he’s the only man she’s ever known. She’d been calling him daddy since she could babble the word at 17 and a half months…”

“She told me she’s known since she was seven that Blake wasn’t really her father,” he said softly. It seemed to be the wrong thing to say as Hermione burst into sobs, throwing her head once more against his chest. He sighed, pulling her into his arms, and he leaned his lips to the top of her forehead. “You should go to him, Hermione, he’s the one that should be comforting you.”

With a slow nod of her head she pulled back from his arms and wiped at her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “Yes, yes, you’re right. I should…” she muttered. “I’ll—” and she hiccoughed. “I’ll be in touch, Severus.” Without looking over her shoulder, she practically fled from the room, still sobbing all the way down the stairs until she reached the main entrance, followed the path back to Hogsmeade, and apparated away.