InsaneJournal

"A sandwich," Harry said, closing his eyes as he sank down into a crouch. Bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, he grasped the hair at the back of his head and tugged, the pain dull compared to the emotions rioting inside him.

"What's that, mate?" Ron's voice sounded off somehow; distracted. Perhaps he too was reliving the moment they'd watched Nagini strike Snape over and over, his own mind forcing images of too-pale skin, too-dark eyes, too-red blood to play on a sadistic loop.

Harry laughed, but it was harsh; it caught against the edges of his throat until he had to force it out. "All I could think about was a bloody sandwich. And my bed. But I don't have a bed anymore, and besides that, what kind of monster am I to have forgotten that he was here? I watched him die, watched him struggle to hold on just long enough to give me the memories that showed me how to end it all, and then… I just forgot him. Who does that?"

"Oh, Harry," Hermione murmured, her hand over her mouth as she slowly crouched beside him. "It isn't your fault."

"Erm—" Ron's voice was drowned out by the sound of the wind whistling through the constantly shifting, creaking Shack.

"It isn't!" Hermione insisted, turning her head to glare at Ron before wrapping one arm around Harry. "It isn't your fault, and you mustn't believe that it is. Snape knew what he was doing. He knew the risks he was taking, and he took them willingly."

"It isn't right, Hermione." Ron cleared his throat, but Harry was too wrapped up in the dark thoughts pounding through his head to pay him any attention. "He never had a chance. His entire fucking life was like a great love sonnet to my mother, and yet who ever loved him? No one, that's who. He didn't ever have anyone to love him unconditionally."

Hermione ran a shaky hand through Harry's hair, her fingers brushing his where they were still knotted together, still tugging. Her voice sounded clogged with tears when she said, "Neither did you."

Harry jerked away from Hermione, nearly falling over. "I had more love than anyone. My parents died for me. You can't get much more unconditional than that. I have the two of you, the Weasleys, the entire school—" A lump formed in Harry's throat, trapping the rest of his words behind it. He couldn't explain the rage that was overtaking him, but all he could concentrate on was how wrong it all was.

Snape had done everything. He was the true hero of the wizarding world. The Man Who Died. And he'd never had a happy moment. No family, not really. No one who ever just loved him, no reservations.

If Harry could have changed anything… If he had one wish, right at that moment, it was that Snape could have known a single moment of pure love. Just for him. No strings attached love.

Because Harry had felt that. He knew, deep in his soul, what it felt like to be truly loved. And it was destroying him that Snape never had.

If only…

"Harry—"

"Oy! You two!"

Ron's shout startled Harry so badly that he did fall over this time, with Hermione landing on him a fraction of a second later. Untangling themselves, they both turned to glare up at Ron, who was pointing at the floor in front of them.

"What?!"

"Dead bodies don't bleed, do they?"

Following the line of Ron's finger, Harry stared in disbelief at the slow pulse of blood that continued to spill from the jaggedly ripped skin of Snape's throat.

---

The day Severus Snape woke up vomiting, he took an anti-nausea potion and went back to bed.

---

"Gooood morning, Headmaster!" Poppy had been made aware of Severus' distaste for early morning cheeriness every weekday for the past seventeen years, so her trilled greeting was an obvious attempt to infuriate him.

As he'd always been more fond of Poppy Pomfrey than he was of the average fungi, he allowed her attempt to succeed. Snarling at her, he stomped into the infirmary, slamming the doors closed behind himself. "Are you attempting to burst the eardrums of your patients with that glass-shattering vocal pitch, or is it merely for my benefit?"

"No patients at present," Poppy said, crossing her arms in front herself with a smile. "Have you come to change that?"

Severus met her crossed arms with a lifted chin and narrowed eyes. "Would I visit this… place… if I weren't in need of your dubious talents?"

Poppy's sunny smile didn't dim in the slightest. Uncrossing her arms, she plucked her wand from her robes and walked to the nearest bed. Patting the starched white sheet, she said, "Hop up here, Headmaster, and we'll see what's got you feeling under the weather."

"The vagaries of the weather have nothing whatever to do with the malady from which I'm currently suffering."

Poppy simply stared at him and patted the mattress again. Rolling his eyes, Severus leaned his hips against the bed and stared hard at her.

"What are your symptoms, then?" Poppy pushed back her sleeves and began muttering diagnostic spells at him while green and purple sparks bounced harmlessly off his skin and changed colours before flittering to the ground where they disappeared. "Nausea, sleeplessness, abdominal cramping, and exhaustion?"

Severus hmmphed, but didn't challenge her assessment. "I've also noticed a bit of abdominal distension which might explain why I've been unable to eat more than a few bites at any meal."

"That is troublesome, considering how severely underweight you are." Poppy muttered at her wand, and Severus' medical chart appeared with a thump on the bed beside him. Even he was slightly shocked at how thick it was, and he'd survived all the illnesses and injuries it catalogued. "Now, let's see here. You should have finished your course of restorative potions two weeks ago. Have you stopped them?"

"Yes."

Poppy rubbed a hand over her forehead, leaving a smudge of something behind. "None of them should have had these particular side effects, but it's good to know you followed my instructions in this matter." She pulled her eyes from her reading long enough to pin him with a look. "And I'm shocked indeed that you did so."

"You would be less shocked if you'd been the one to swallow the vile things three times per day." Severus drummed his fingers against his opposing forearm and cocked his head to see what Poppy was looking at.

"Dreamless Sleep? Are you taking that?"

"Occasionally, but as I've noted, I've been mostly unable to sleep."

"Is it mere sleeplessness or are you experiencing an overabundance of energy?"

Severus pursed his lips as he considered this. "Both? Some nights I can't seem to lie still and others, I'm so exhausted I can barely move, but my mind won't shut off long enough for me to find any true sleep."

"Well, the lack of sleep could have something to do with your other symptoms. Your body needs sleep, and it will begin to interfere with your health if you don't get enough."

"Oh, thank you, Poppy, for that entirely unnecessary lecture. I'm sure I had no idea how important sleep is to the function of the mind and body."

"Shut it, you. I know it's uncomfortable, but I'm going to have you lie back so I can perform a full-body scan. We have to find out why you aren't sleeping before I can prescribe the correct series of potions to combat it. If you actually need potions." Poppy moved to help him lay back, but Severus' dark glare stopped her.

She only smirked a little when his back cracked painfully as he lowered himself down to a prone position on the mattress.

"Get on with it, woman. I have a full schedule today and don't intend to waste any more time here than necessary."

Poppy rolled her eyes and cast the scan. A rope of grey energy shot out of her wand and wrapped around Severus, probing against his lips until he parted them. Though there was no true physical presence to the magic, it still caused him to gag slightly when he felt the magic pouring down his throat and sending tendrils into all of his various organs. When the magic reached his abdomen, he had to focus every bit of his concentration on breathing past the suffocating presence of the cord of magic that filled his mouth and throat.

Finally done, the magic wound back into Poppy's wand in a rush of energy. Severus' whole body contracted, and he spent several minutes coughing and gagging in reflex.

Parchment began to roll in loops out of Poppy's wand. Her lips moving as she read the results of the full-body scan, Poppy got a queer look on her face, stared at her wand as if it were suddenly a fluffy unicorn, shook it, and muttered fiercely about "last time I go to bed with a science fiction novel."

Severus' forehead creased with a frown. "What?"

Poppy just shook her head. "I want to re-run that scan."

"Absolutely not. The scan worked. What are the results?" Steeling himself for the worst possible news—death—Severus clenched his jaw and waited.

"Severus…" Poppy seemed about to tell him, then stopped, her lips pursed. "Have you recently had relations?"

"Besides my mother and father?"

"No, no. I mean sexual relations, of course."

Eyebrows reaching toward his hairline, Severus decided it was time to stop lying down. He pushed himself up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he did so, and glared down at Poppy. "What has my sexual history to do with anything?"

"Severus Snape, you answer my question this minute! Have you been intimate with anyone in the past," consulting her read-out again, she said, "thirteen weeks?"

Severus rolled his eyes at her. "Perhaps it's escaped your notice, but thirteen weeks ago, I was hovering on the brink of death. Before that, I was slightly distracted from thoughts of a romantic nature by the very real threat of death. After that, I was taking a variety of potions that prevented any interest of a sexual nature."

Poppy placed a hand on his knee and leaned in toward him so her next question, whispered in a worried tone, wouldn’t be lost. "Is it possible you were… violated? I know the sort of people you were forced to socialize with prior to Voldemort's death. If you were," she sucked in a deep breath, "raped—"

Severus batted his hands at her, forcing her back from him. "Rape?! Woman, what sort of wizard do you take me for? If anyone came at me with those sorts of intentions, I was—am—more than capable of eviscerating them!"

Planting her hands on her hips, Poppy shouted, "Then explain to me, if you've not had sexual relations— consensual or otherwise—just how it is that you're pregnant?"

Shock sent Severus rearing back on the bed. Only Poppy's quick thinking prevented him from toppling off the far side of it. "Puh-what? Pregnant? Give me those results, madam. Obviously you've misread them."

Poppy held up the results, pointed to the pertinent series of Arithmantic notations, and said, "If you see anything other than 'implanted embryo' in that, I'll eat my shoes."

Severus read it, read it again, turned it upside-down and sideways, read it some more, and finally lowered the scan result. "Run the test again."

Three increasingly uncomfortable scans later and all the results were the same.

Carefully, Poppy asked, "Do you have any idea who the other parent is?"

Severus shook his head, flabbergasted beyond the ability to speak. Though his symptoms fit, though four scans couldn't be wrong, he still could not believe that he was truly pregnant.

It had been more than five years since he'd had intercourse with anything other than his own hand. And through the stress of the last year, he'd rarely found interest even in that.

"I can find out, if you're interested."

"Please do. I would like to have words with whomever it is." The grim set of his mouth told of his intention of having significantly more than mere conversation with the perpetrator of his current condition.

Poppy ran a gentle paternity scan over him, but neither of them were prepared for the results.

---

The day Severus Snape woke up feeling absolutely normal, he scared three children on the way to the infirmary, all while holding tightly to the small bump that was his belly.

---

Harry peered down at the threshold, frowning as the spell he directed at it dissipated in a flash of palest blue. "It's not here, either," he called through the doorway to Ron, who was on a ladder in the entryway.

"It has to be an object in here," Hermione said, her voice muffled as her head was stuffed inside what appeared to be an ornamental box. "The magic doesn't extend beyond the entryway, and in order for the spell to have survived Moody's death, it has to have been locked inside an object."

Harry bit back the we know, you've only told us that seven hundred times in the last three days that was hovering on the tip of his tongue. "Well, it's definitely not anything outside the door. The Fidelius would have negated it. And it's not the threshold. So it has to be something inside the house."

"What about the doorknob?" Ron asked, climbing down from where he'd been testing one of the old gaslight sconces on the wall.

Harry turned to cast a revealing spell on the doorknob, only to be interrupted by what felt like a brick slamming into his jaw. He stumbled backward, the dim hallway spinning around him as strong arms—Ron's, most likely—caught him and held him up.

"Oy!" Definitely Ron's arms considering the bellow that nearly ruptured his eardrums came from directly above his head. "What the fuck did you do that for?"

"Language, Weasley."

Harry blinked his eyes, shaking his head to force himself to focus, and squinted into the light that blared in from the doorway. It was nearly completely blocked by a figure cloaked all in black, which meant either he was being visited by Dementors, a Lethifold, or… "Snape?"

No other creature in the wizarding world had such a penchant for absolute darkness.

"In the flesh." Snape's fingers were clenched around his still-smoking wand.

Harry shook himself free of Ron's hold and flexed his jaw back and forth. "I'd say it's nice to see you looking so well, but I have the feeling the sentiment isn't entirely mutual."

Snape stepped forward, slamming the door as he did so. "Well?! It's nice to see me looking well?"

Harry took in the pink tinge in Snape's cheeks—which clashed ferociously with his normally sallow colouring. He was about to respond when Snape took another step forward, triggering the spell that sent a shade of Dumbledore spinning up right out of the hallway to rush at Snape with a hissed accusation on its lips.

"Shut it, you old fool," Snape said, and the shade collapsed into dust. Turning toward Harry, he crossed his arms and glared, as if his whole purpose in visiting was to drill a hole through Harry's forehead with the force of his angry gaze.

Harry glanced at Hermione, who shrugged back before edging around Snape. "Tea?" she asked, her voice higher pitched than normal in her attempt to disperse the tension in the air.

Snape's bared his teeth at her in what a very generous person might term a smile. "I'd love some tea, Miss Granger. Make mine with a splash of Firewhisky… oh but wait. You can't. Plain tea with Marmite, then."

Hermione's brow wrinkled in a combination of disgust and confusion before she nodded and nearly ran for the kitchen.

"Look," Harry said, exasperated and in pain. "I know you get your kicks running around scaring people witless, but it's been a long day. Why are you here?"

Snape patted his belly. "I've come to visit the father of my child, of course."

A laugh burst from Ron. "Your child? Since when did you have a kid?"

Harry frowned. "He doesn't. He's taking the mickey, though I don't know why. Seriously, Snape. Why are you here? If you just don't have anything better to do, you can help us get rid of this stupid defensive spell on the house. Mrs Black's portrait is enough punishment for anyone. I shouldn't have Dumbledore attacking me every time I set foot in my own home."

Snape waved his wand, muttered a few harsh words, and something in the atmosphere of the house simply… dissipated.

"What did you do?" Harry asked, staring wide-eyed at the carpet.

"Took care of your annoyance so that I might take care of mine, of course."

"You… just like that? It's gone? Seriously?"

"Potter, focus. We have much to discuss." When Harry just stared at him blankly, Snape hissed in irritation and slowly added, "Perhaps we'd all be more comfortable in the drawing room?"

"Oh, yeah." Harry waved a hand. "You know where it is."

"I'll meet you there," Snape said, an odd expression twisting his features. "I need the toilet."

"Ron?" Harry caught hold of Ron's shirt, holding him back as Snape stalked off toward the small loo just off the drawing room.

"Hmm?" Ron stared down the hallway after Snape, a frown wrinkling his forehead.

"Looks like you're off the hook. Stay for dinner?"

Ron snorted. "You just want someone to be here so Snape won't have another go at you. What was that all about, anyway?"

"No idea, mate. But I think we're about to find out. Come on. You know you're just as curious as I am."

When Harry and Ron arrived in the drawing room, Hermione was already there, pouring tea and holding a jar of Marmite. Harry shuddered. Vile stuff.

Snape chose that moment to join them and snatched both the tea and the Marmite from Hermione. He dug a spoon into the sludgy spread before stirring the spoon in his tea. Harry glanced away, his stomach turning, but not before he saw Snape take a big sip of his Marmite-y tea.

"So," Harry said, accepting his own steaming cup—containing nothing more adventurous than a dollop of milk and three sugars—from Hermione with a smile of thanks. "What brings you for a visit, Snape? If you're missing memories, I gave back everything I had."

"It's not so much what's missing, Potter, as what's been thrust upon me."

"Oh, for God's sake, Snape! Stop being so bloody vague and just spit it out. Why are you here?"

Snape released his tea, allowing it to bob along in mid-air before him as he folded his hands over his stomach and sat back in his chair. "Unfortunately, what I told you in the entryway is the truth. I have recently acquired an embryo and, having learned the name of the other father, I've decided to confront him. So, Potter, care to tell me why, thirteen weeks ago when I lay dying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, you decided to take advantage of my unconscious form?"

"What?!" The volume of the word, being multiplied by three raised voices asking it, was nearly deafening.

"Are you seriously accusing Harry of necrophilia?" Hermione asked, her voice absolutely shrill.

"You've gone barmy, sir." Ron sat back and gulped at his tea, his cheeks red with either anger or embarrassment. Perhaps both.

Harry just stared at Snape in shock, unable to think of any rebuttal that Hermione and Ron hadn't already covered. Finally, he managed to sputter, "Explain?"

Snape stood and retrieved a long piece of parchment—rather like the ones that always sprouted from Pomfrey's wand whenever she'd done scans on him in school—from his robes before thrusting it at Hermione. "I would show it to Potter, but as far as I know, he never studied Arithmancy or its application in the healing arts."

Hermione's eyes ran back and forth so fast that Harry's head began to ache for her before she lost every bit of the angry colour in her cheeks. The parchment fluttered to the floor as she turned and pinned Harry with a horrified look. "Harry?"

"What?" Beginning to panic, Harry jumped to his feet. "What's going on?" Looking back and forth between Hermione and Snape, Harry settled on Hermione as the best option for clear answers. "Hermione?"

"Harry. I… he's right. He's pregnant, and according to the tests, you're the father."

"But that's ridiculous! You know it is! I never touched him!" Turning to Snape, Harry said, "I never touched you."

"Then explain, if you please, how I came to be pregnant with your child?"

Harry shrugged, flabbergasted. "The test must be wrong."

"Tests, Potter, plural. Poppy ran multiple paternity tests after confirming the results of the initial pregnancy result three times. You are the father. The only question at this point is how you became so. There is only one logical answer—that you raped an unconscious man."

"But I didn't." Sagging with relief, Harry pointed at Hermione and Ron. "They can tell you. They were with me the whole time. I never touched you."

"That's impossible."

"Actually," Hermione tugged on a lock of hair as her lips moved silently in thought before she said, "it's not. There have been two documented cases of non-contact pregnancy in recorded history of the wizarding world. Both of those cases involved wish magic." Hermione focused on Harry. "Is it possible that you wished Professor Snape would become pregnant with your child?"

Harry's hysterical laugh put paid to that theory. "Even if I wanted a kid right now, Snape would be the last person I'd wish to have it with." Realising how awful that sounded, Harry turned to Snape. "I mean, just, you don't seem the sort who'd want kids. In fact, I always had the impression you hated children."

"Annoying brats that they are." Snape's expression left them in no doubt which children had instilled that opinion in him.

Pacing the length of the room and back again, Harry racked his brain to think how this could have happened. The only thing he really remembered from that night was watching Snape get attacked, taking his memories, and then going back to retrieve the body. Of course… Harry's eyes flared wide as he remembered his own volatile state that night as he'd thought of the life Snape had lived.

"Oh God," he muttered, swallowing roughly. "I did. I mean, I didn't specifically wish a child on you, but…"

"Yes? Pray, do enlighten us." Snape settled back onto his chair, eyes narrowing on Harry as he took a long slurp of his tea.

Harry shook his head, staring at Snape beseechingly. "I just thought it was wrong, that's all. It was so terribly wrong, all you'd done for the entire world, and you'd never been truly loved. I wished that you had, just once, known what it was like to be loved unconditionally."

Tea slopped over Snape's robes when he jerked upright again. "You insolent little—"

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to… to wish you pregnant, okay? That wasn't my intention at all. I just… I can unwish it? Can't I?" Harry looked to Hermione for validation, hoping she would quiet his inner panic, only to have his moment of personal crisis interrupted by Ron.

"Well, no… wait. You can't do that."

Taken aback, Harry asked, "What do you mean?"

Ron, face slightly green, waved a hand between Harry and Snape. "Look. He's pregnant, it's your baby. You have to get married."

Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes even as Snape pushed to his feet to stand looming over Ron. "Excuse me, what?"

"Well, it's just… it's the law." Shrugging, Ron looked from Snape to Harry. "Harry, you got him pregnant. No matter how it happened, whether it was intentional or not, you have to marry him."

Snape's face went… well. It wasn't the most pleasant countenance at any time, but the clash of fury and dawning realization was simply horrible. Snape stumbled back into his seat and began gulping his tea down before pouring another scalding cup. With another teaspoon of Marmite.

Harry's ears buzzed as he watched Snape. Everything felt surreal, as if the world was moving in slow motion, or maybe he was moving in slow motion through a world going at twice the speed of normal.

Hermione's strident tones broke through the white noise filling Harry's head. "What law? That's outrageous! No one can make Harry get married if he doesn't want to."

"Weasley is correct," Snape said, sounding as if something was caught in his throat. Vomit, most likely. "It's one of the foremost reasons for marriage in our world. It's considered impolite to mention, but… yes. Illegitimacy is illegal in the wizarding world for the simple fact that it can disrupt a child's magic."

"That's ridiculous."

Snape shrugged. "Enough squibs born to unwed mothers will convince anyone, even the Wizengamot. And they're not the most observant body of legislators."

"So… so what?" Harry asked. "What do we do now?"

Snape's eyelids fluttered for a brief moment before he speared Harry with a bored look and said, "Now you arrange our hasty marriage." Setting his tea on a side table, he stood and walked toward the doorway. "And I visit the toilet."

---

The day Severus Snape noticed his expanding waist-line, he ate three fairy cakes with wicked delight.

---

"Oh, my dear boys!" Molly Weasley's piercing shriek cut through the migraine Severus had been suffering from since the moment her son had put words to his fate. Her plump arm wrapped around him on one side and Potter on the other, squeezing them both together in her overly perfumed embrace. "I'm so… happy for you!" she wailed, the tears rolling down her cheeks giving lie to her words.

It had not escaped Severus' notice that Ginevra had been conspicuously absent from the ceremony.

"Thank you, Mrs Weasley." Potter's voice was muffled against Molly's bosom, and Severus spared a moment to consider how completely apt it was that Potter would show this horrid woman all the respect that he'd managed to strip from his professors over the years. No proper title for the greatest wizard ever born, but let a woman pop out a child or ten, and…

Severus struggled out of Molly's suffocating hold as he attempted to banish the thought that perhaps now he'd get a 'sir' out of Potter.

"Your well wishes are… appreciated, Molly," Severus said, barely restraining the sneer that wanted to curl his lip. Gazing longingly at the champagne fountain, he sighed and snatched his flute of pumpkin juice—pumpkin juice!—from the table beside him.

Wiping at her eyes, Molly smiled with wobbling lips. "I just hope your marriage is as wonderful as mine and Arthur's has been." She giggled and sighed. "Bill was such a big baby considering how early he came."

Severus stared at her in horror even as he could practically hear the gears churning in Potter's head.

"You mean… you and Mr Weasley?"

"Oh, not just us, dear." Molly patted Potter's hand and gave him a knowing wink. "Lily was quite the blushing bride herself."

Severus needed no further encouragement to exit the conversation. Without so much as a fare thee well, he pushed past Potter and began to wend his way toward the single spot of comfort to be found in this room, which was teeming with those who considered Potter to be 'like an insert-familial-relation-here to me.'

Minerva's smile was far too cat-like; shockingly no yellow feathers fluttered from her mouth when she opened it to give him congratulations.

"I'm so happy for you, Severus." Unlike the last person who'd mentioned as such to him, she truly seemed content with his fate. "I've always thought of you as a son—"

"Hexed many of your offspring, have you?" he grumbled.

"Oh, do be quiet and allow me my moment of happiness for you. I realise you wouldn't know the feeling if it deigned to swell within your soul, so I'll just experience it for the both of us." Minerva held her whisky-laced tea to her lips and took a generous swallow. "To your happiness, Severus Snape. May you one day truly know it for what it is."

"The toast generally precedes the drinking," Severus muttered as he stared down into his murky juice. Scowling with distaste, he took a quick sip. And regretted it almost immediately when acid began to burn his oesophagus.

"Yes, well, it's been an age since I've attended one of these functions." She narrowed her eyes at something across the room before her expression cleared and she turned to him. "I've been meaning to ask how long you'll need for a honeymoon. I believe a month is the accepted time-period, but if you'd like to travel longer, just let me know."

"I've no intention of indulging this farce any farther than I must. The licenses will be signed, the cohabitation—" he blanched at the thought, "arranged for, and that will be the end of my association with Potter. I may have to live with the imbecile, but I've no intention of allowing him to disrupt my life."

Minerva reared back, her eyebrows shooting upward on her forehead. "The devil you say! Severus Snape, I'll not allow you to make your marriage a miserable one."

"Too late."

"I daresay it's not! You have the chance for true happiness with that boy, and I refuse to watch you throw it all away. Harry deserves the very best you have to offer. As do you. You'll be content, or so help me, I'll shove cheering potions down your throat until you act like it."

"I am content with my life as it is. I need no spouse forced upon me to find it."

"And what about the baby?"

Severus shrugged. "It'll survive."

---

The day night Severus Snape had outrageously erotic dreams involving an elephant, little green aliens, and Harry Potter, he began plotting.

---

Harry staggered into the infirmary, gasping and wheezing as Snape's—his husband's—limp form weighed him down. "Madam," he slumped against the wall, just barely managing to maintain his hold on Snape, and attempted to recover. "Madam Pomfrey," he shouted.

The sound of sensible shoes padding toward him made Harry's muscles go weak with relief. He winced as Snape landed on his arse on the stone floor. "Oops."

"Mr Potter? What is it?" Drawing closer to him, Pomfrey let out a loud gasp. "Headmaster!" Rushing the last few feet, Pomfrey barked orders. "Help me get him onto a bed. You didn't use any charms on him, did you?"

"Not even a featherweight. And let me tell you, he could use it."

Pomfrey turned on him, anger bringing colour to her face and her hands to her hips. "I am absolutely appalled at you, Mr Potter! To criticize a man in his condition for his weight gain—"

"Oh, no, not at all!" Harry felt a blush rising from his chest into his cheeks at her scolding. "I just mean he's heavy. Not because he's pregnant, just…" He gestured behind himself. "Four flights of stairs! Anyone would become heavy after all that."

Pomfrey harrumphed at him, but turned her attention to Snape. "How long has he been like this?"

"I honestly don't know. He doesn't spend much time with me, but I did notice he was looking run down the other day. I asked him if he'd seen you." Harry chewed on the inside of his lip as he worried that he'd allowed Snape too much room to grow accustomed to their new relationship.

"And?"

He shrugged. "He did that 'of course I have, you imbecile,' thing and went off on a tangent about how you work at the school for which he's Headmaster and…"

"And you allowed him to intimidate you into not showing your concern. You do realise that the baby he's carrying is yours, yes?"

Harry's gaze dropped to the toe of his trainers, and his shoulders slumped. "Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry."

"Well, it's a bit late for that."

"Late?" Harry asked, shock coursing through him. "What do you mean, it's a bit late? He's not dead! I know he's not!"

Pomfrey waved one hand at him. "No, of course he isn't—"

Harry's stomach seemed to drop through the floor as something like grief took hold of him. "The baby? My… our…"

A quick scan and she said, "The child is fine. But I must know what Severus has been doing to get himself in this condition. Is he eating?"

Harry nodded emphatically. "He's actually been eating everything in sight. And I'm pretty sure he's sleeping too. I just… I don't know what it could be."

"I know he's getting his supplemental potions. What about intimacy?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Intimate physical relations?" At Harry's blank stare, Pomfrey sighed heavily and said, "Sex, Mr Potter. Are you and Severus having regular sexual intercourse?"

Harry began to stammer and stutter, but apparently the sounds coming from his mouth were sufficient for Pomfrey to take his meaning.

"You aren't? What are you thinking? You must have regular intercourse to bring a male pregnancy to term. If you don't share enough physical intimacy, the baby will separate from the womb and…"

"And?" Harry whispered, still struck nearly dumb by the images crowding his head.

"And it could mean the death of both the baby and the pregnant wizard."

---

The day Severus Snape felt the baby kick for the first time, he locked himself in his room so no one else would hear him cooing to his child. Of course, it was probably just gas…

---

Severus woke slowly, stretching luxuriously against his comfortable bed and soft sheets. With a sigh, he cracked open one eye, then the other before blinking them both slowly.

"Huh."

The sound of Potter so close to hand had Severus bolting upright in his bed.

"Yeah, that's more like it."

"What? What the bloody hell are you doing in my room, Potter?"

"I was waiting for you to wake up. I have to admit I'm a bit surprised. I mean, I always assumed you'd wake up all at once, instantly alert and all that."

With no tea to bolster him, Severus could only stare dumbly at Potter and continue to repeat himself. "What?"

"You know, spy, constant danger, all that. I just assumed you'd have that whole 'living on the edge' thing."

"Potter, I've always assumed you're an idiot. Guess which of us is right. Why are you here?"

Twisting the single gold band around and around his finger, Potter leaned forward and avoided Severus' gaze as he said, "You're going to kill yourself if we keep going on like this."

Severus pushed himself up to a sitting position, using his wonderfully fluffy pillows to support his back. "Going on like what?"

Potter dragged a hand through his hair, tugging on the ends. "How much do you remember of the past day?"

Severus tried to remember anything before he woke up and found that his memory of the past several days—weeks?—was fuzzy at best. "What's your point?"

"You passed out. You weren't even doing anything, but you just… went completely white and fell over. Scared the life out of me, I don't mind saying."

"And?"

"And I carried you up to Pomfrey, who told me something I didn't know. I can only assume you didn't know either, or we'd have… done something about it before now."

Severus pushed the sheets and blankets away from him and swung his legs out of the bed, flapping his hands at Potter as he did so. "Out. Get out of my room, Potter. I was generous enough to let you share my quarters, and this is the thanks I get? Waking up to find you staring at me? What sort of psychosis are you plagued with?"

Jaw dropping, leaving him looking a bit like a landed fish, Potter said, "I can't believe this! You do know! How could you… you were deliberately endangering the baby this whole time! You fucking prick!"

"It's my life, my body—"

"My baby!" Pushing a finger into Severus' chest, Potter poked at him as he began to rail against Severus. "You were willing to risk an innocent life just because you're too damn stubborn to do what you know is right!"

Finally, unwilling to hear another word, Severus silenced Potter with a hand over his mouth. "The child was never in any danger, you idiot. It would have sapped every bit of my magic and health before anything happened to it."

"It did sap your health! I've no idea how your magic is, but this is stupid, Snape! We're married. We're probably the only married couple in the world who've never done it. We're definitely the only married couple in the world expecting a baby who've never done it."

"Done it? You can't even say the words, Potter, why should I—"

"Had sex. Stuck their cocks so far up each other's arses they may as well be sucking on them. Pounded each other so hard their bollocks bruised from the force of it. That good enough for you?" Potter's face was red, his eyes gleamed brightly behind his glasses, and if Severus didn't know better, he'd think that was an erection straining the boy's trousers.

Severus pursed his lips and considered the boy—man, he was a man now—standing in front of him. "The problem with having sex, Potter, is that both men can't top. And I refuse to bottom."

Potter gaped at him. "And?"

"And what?"

"That's your best argument not to have sex? You don't want to bottom?"

Severus crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at Potter…

…who climbed onto Severus' bed and waggled his arse. "Before you go leaping to stupid conclusions, Snape, you should really check with your partner about his preferences."

Severus stared and stared some more. Apparently tired of waiting, Potter flopped over onto his back and pushed himself up onto his elbows. "So? Are we going to do this or not? I mean, it's really for your health and all."

Lips twitching, Severus shook his head. "No, Potter, we're not doing this for me alone. Consider, if you will, that we're likely the first men in history who can legitimately say they're having sex for the children."

A surprised laugh burst from Potter at that, and he fell back on the bed, clutching his sides as Severus watched. Sobering, Potter looked at Severus and said, "We're not always going to be like this, are we?"

"Like what?"

"Living separate lives. I mean, I always assumed when I got married, I'd… well, I'd have a relationship with my spouse. Companionship, friendship… regular sex. But we barely even talk to each other and when we do—"

"I hadn't imagined that you'd want a relationship with me, Potter. I had assumed that you'd be petitioning for divorce as soon as the baby is born."

Potter huffed, obviously exasperated. "Well, why wouldn't I? Have you given me any reason to stay? I mean, when I can't even really claim to have any sort of relationship with the person I'm married to, what's my incentive to stay?" Scooting to the edge of the bed nearest Severus, Potter said, "Look. I don't think either of us can promise 'forever' right now. There's too much history between us. But let's at least give 'for now' a shot before we completely give up."

Severus stared at Potter for a long moment, considering. "I'm not good at relationships, Potter. And I have a tendency to… obsess. I can be possessive and stand-offish."

"And I imagine those qualities will get worse before they get better. But guess what, Snape?"

"What?"

"I already knew that about you. You're also smart, brave, and funny as fuck when you're not snapping at me."

"You're too impulsive."

"I'm charming." Potter's smile was crooked and somehow shy. "Nearly everyone says so."

"When you're passionate about something, you strive for competency," Severus allowed.

"Wow. Don't overwhelm me with compliments, husband." Potter's eyes rolled behind his glasses, prompting Snape to slide the ugly things—the glasses, of course—off Potter's face.

"If we're going to do this, we may as well begin."

Potter's smile grew wider and relief flashed in his slightly unfocused gaze. "You want to, then?"

"Well. For the children, you understand."

Severus was girding his loins for their immediate pleasure when Potter pulled away from him, a frown on his face.

"Wait."

Off-balance, Severus stared at him incredulously. "What?!"

"You're, I mean…" Potter ran a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture before waggling his hand back and forth between them. "You're not comfortable with this, are you?"

"I've been your professor since you were eleven. Of course I'm uncomfortable with the situation, but that doesn't change the fact that—"

"It's because I'm a bloke, isn't it?"

That stopped Severus in his tracks. "Did you fail to hear the part about you being my former student?"

Continuing to ignore him, Potter said, "I mean, you were in love with my mum. Obviously you're into skirts—"

"And you've only dated women. What has that to do with anything?"

"That's not—I like both. I've just not had an opportunity to—"

"Unlike you," Severus said, exasperated with all the unnecessary talking, "I have. So kindly shut the fuck up." Unwilling to allow Potter a chance to continue their conversation, Severus leaned over him, pushed him down onto the bed with the weight of his body and flicked his tongue over Potter's lips. When Potter gasped at the contact, Severus pressed their opened mouths together and put all his long-unused skills to practice.

Potter's fingers twisted in the material of his shirt, pulling Severus closer… and putting him in a rather uncomfortable position for his back, which was already feeling the strain of this pregnancy. Shifting his weight to his legs, Severus untangled Potter's hands from his shirt and, locking his fingers around Potter's wrists, pinned them to the mattress above their heads.

Severus made appreciative noises as Potter began to squirm against him, and the increased blood supply running through his veins went straight to his cock. Potter's hips began undulating wildly against his, and Severus was giving himself a mental pat on the back when Potter's head began to thrash as well, knocking into Severus' nose.

"What the—"

"Let go!" Potter shouted, his voice sharp with panic. He continued to thrash, but it was unnecessary as, in his surprise, Severus had loosened his hold on Potter's wrists.

Jerking away from Severus, Potter sat up, his shoulders hunched over as he rubbed frantically at his wrists. "Sorry," he muttered. Then, "Sorry. I just—"

"Don't enjoy being held down, apparently. Which is so very unusual for a boy who was tied to a headstone, possessed by a madman, locked in a dungeon, attacked by a Basilisk…" Severus rolled his eyes, damning himself for his mental lapse. "Should I apologise?"

"Nah. I mean, neither of us were exactly thinking about that," Potter said with a shrug of his shoulder. "I wasn't either, honestly, it just hit me all at once, and I couldn't stop it."

"Which would be the very nature of instinctual protective reactions."

Potter peeked up at Severus through his fringe and smiled, and though it was admittedly more of a grimace, it broke the tension that was filling Severus. "Wanna try again?"

"Slower this time?"

"Please. And if I go a bit mad, just… back off, yeah?"

Severus pursed his lips. "I believe I can accommodate that request."

This time it was Potter who initiated their kiss, his square hand that slid into Severus' hair, gripped the back of Severus' head, and pulled it down. Their lips barely brushed one another, both of them hesitating to become too aggressive too soon.

The hand not tangled in Severus' hair settled on his hip, and then Potter pulled back enough to whisper, "Can I touch it?"

Imagining a much different target for the direction of Potter's request, Severus gave a heartily emphatic, "Yes," and was shocked to his core to feel Potter's fingers press to the bulge not in his groin but in his belly. The tiny bump of his child—their child—was firm to the touch, and Potter explored it with eager fingers.

Pulling free of the kiss, and Potter's hold on him, Severus gave a mental shrug of his shoulders and reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. Settling back onto his elbows, he jerked his chin toward his abdomen and said, "Go ahead."

Potter's smile then was absurdly brilliant in intensity, and he knelt up on the bed beside Severus, using both hands to smooth over the lightly haired bump, his fingers dipping into Severus' navel and measuring the girth of his belly. "It's so tiny," he said, clearly awed.

"Yes, well, it's barely bigger than your palm at this point."

"Do you know what it is?"

"A baby."

Rolling his eyes, Potter huffed a laugh. "I meant the sex of it."

"Not yet. The spells for determining sex are generally postponed until the third trimester as any excess magic directed at the developing foetus can hinder brain function."

Potter's hands were retracted so quickly, Severus was surprised they didn't make a whooshing noise. "Oh God, I didn't hurt it, did I?"

"With your bare hands? I seriously doubt it. You were never very good with wandless, wordless magic."

"What about your magic?"

"It's a part of me, just as the blood that flows through my veins. My own magic won't hurt it now, though it would have definitely been a concern during the first trimester. Thankfully, I didn't know about the foetus until I was almost out of that phase."

The sight of Potter's white teeth biting into his lips was ridiculously appealing, and Severus found himself ready to quit the conversation in favour of returning to their earlier activities.

"Now, though," he murmured, sitting up until he was directly in front of Potter, "the thing most dangerous to the child is our lack of physical intimacy. Shall we fix that oversight?"

Potter swallowed, sending his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "Yeah."

Severus scraped his teeth over the shadow of hair along Potter's jaw line. "Excellent."

Clothing was discarded without any verbalised plan. This time their kisses were timed so perfectly it was as if they were choreographed by a master. Fingers and lips skimmed bodies, learning dips and curves and smoothing over planes before tangling in hair and starting over again. When Potter's fingers lightly brushed Severus' nipples, he nearly roared his approval.

Wicked green eyes glinted up at him, a mixture of arousal and humour filling them as Potter dipped his head and began to lightly flick his tongue against Severus' nipples, over and over, until he thought he would surely come from that stimulation alone.

Severus nearly forgot about Potter's phobias as he bodily lifted him and slammed him onto the bed beneath him. Only when Potter's eyes flared with the first stirrings of anxiety did Severus release him and sit up, using his hands to pull Potter's knees apart and settle between them.

"Cheeky bastard," Severus said, his voice rough with passion. The crease disappeared from Potter's forehead and his eyes slid shut as he rolled his hips, spreading his thighs wider in an offering no sane man could refuse.

Severus moved only long enough to retrieve his lube before he was back, pushing Potter's knees to his chest and shoving a pillow under his hips. They were both far too aroused for extended foreplay, and Severus gritted his teeth at the feel of Potter's arse pressing down around his fingers as he attempted to rein in his impatience.

"Snape," Potter gasped, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his fast breathing, "just fucking do it already. I'm not going to break."

"Spoil sport," Severus grunted, taking Potter's word for his readiness. Kneeling up, he looked down at his spouse, and had to shake off a moment of disbelief at the circumstances that had led to this moment. He'd never considered Potter anything other than an annoyance, but here he was, ready to plunge balls deep in the boy. No, more than ready. Eager. Panting for it.

Obviously done with waiting, Potter rocked his hips against Severus, pushing his arse against the head of Severus' cock. "Now, Snape!"

Fingers tightening around Potter's thighs, Severus lined his cock up with Potter's arse and began to ease in slowly, drawing strangled groans from them both. Severus wanted to wait for Potter to become accustomed to his size, but the feel of that arse squeezing so deliciously around him was too much. Severus withdrew and pushed back, only able to control himself enough to go slowly instead of snapping his hips back and forth like he truly wanted.

Sweat beaded on his brow and he closed his eyes, unable to bear the stimulation of seeing Potter's reddened face slack with that silent scream of pleasure. As Severus continued to piston his hips in a slow, circular motion, as the blood pumped through his veins, he heard the tiny sounds Potter made and they pushed him over the edge.

Mentally apologising, Severus released Potter's leg, braced himself against the mattress, and began to pound in and out of Potter's arse as if this were the last time instead of the first.

Judging by the ecstatic quaver that ran through Potter's shouts for more, Severus had nothing for which to apologise. He flung his head back, sweaty hair sticking to his face as he released all restraint. His balls slapped against Potter's arse, his fingers curled into the sheets, ripping them from the mattress. A howl started in the base of his throat just as his orgasm knotted his stomach. As his prick began to jerk through the first burst of his orgasm, his shout of completion filled the air.

He came longer than he'd ever come, whether from the sheer length of time since he'd last come or from the extra blood that flowed through his veins, keeping him hard longer than normal. He was still more than half-hard when he heard the slap of Potter's hand working himself, and only slightly less than that when Potter's arse began to twitch and contract around him.

Thick spurts of come bubbled up over the head of Potter's cock as Severus watched. Fascinated, he caught some on his fingers and brought them to his mouth.

Potter's "fuck, yes," seemed to cover the moment. But his, "When can we do this again?" was what helped Severus settle down beside him on the bed and relax enough to sleep.

---

The day Severus Snape looked down and didn't see his prick, Harry ended up at St Mungos due to "accidental magic." No one believed it, and Harry could barely stop laughing long enough for the Healer to reattach his nose.

---

"How are you feeling?" Harry asked, smoothing Severus' hair back off his forehead. As expected, Severus batted testily at Harry's hand for a moment while his eyes scanned the room for any witnesses. Then he relaxed against his pillows and allowed Harry to pet him as much as he wanted.

"I just pushed a child with your ego from my arse. How do you think I'm feeling?"

Harry threw back his head and let out a loud bark of laughter. "You liar! They took him from your stomach with a silver knife and used healing charms as soon as he was clear of you."

"Well, yes, but it makes for a much better story if we tell people I had to deliver through my arse."

Harry leaned down to whisper in Severus' ear. "No one would believe that."

"Oh? Why don't you think so?"

"Because everyone knows what a tight arse you are. You'd never get a baby out of there."

A stinging hex whipped through the air and landed on Harry's arse, but he merely raised his eyebrow—something he'd picked up from his husband. The hex had been far milder than he'd expected. "Really, how are you feeling? That wasn't up to your normal standards."

Severus waved a hand at him. "Stop your nagging, wife." Harry snorted and pinched Severus for his cheek. "I'm fine. The baby is fine. Contentment of this sort is… mildly acceptable."

"You pronounced 'happiness' wrong. And really, we have to come up with a name for him. What if he has an identity crisis in twenty years because we couldn't agree on a name?"

"Then he'll drain your Gringotts account seeking therapy."

"Seriously, Severus. We have to name him." When Severus avoided Harry's gaze, though, something seemed to click inside Harry's head. "And we should probably think about purchasing a house. The school is all well and good for term, but don't you think our family will do better with a bit of privacy?"

Severus' shoulders relaxed against the mattress—and only then did Harry realise how tightly he'd been holding them. "Privacy? Please, with you around, we'd be lucky to get in a quick shag without it making all the papers."

"Not my fault I'm universally loved and adored."

Severus didn't respond to that, but his next word nearly floored Harry—and left him fully aware of Severus' true feelings, even if the words never passed Severus' lips. "James, then."

Harry swallowed the sudden knot that formed in his throat and said, "No. I think… Albus."

Severus' chin dipped in acknowledgement even as he rolled his eyes and said, "We may as well name him Merlin for all that. But I suppose the old fool would have been quite pleased to know he has a namesake."

"I think it's a good start. After all, we both loved the old Albus, in our own ways." Harry inched his hand onto the bed and allowed his fingers to lie beside Severus'. They weren't holding hands, exactly, but the same contentment that flowed through Harry shone in Severus' relaxed face.

"You know we won't live happily ever after," Severus mused, his hand twitching so that his smallest finger wound over Harry's. "But we'll live, which is more than I ever expected."

Harry slid his fingers further under Severus', blatantly taking advantage of the moment. "Where's it written we can't be happy?"

"Have you met me, Potter? I'm not exactly an easy man to live with. Trust me, I've lived with myself for nearly forty years."

Harry grinned and stole a kiss. "I've lived with you too. When you were riddled with hormones, no less. If I can cope with that, I can deal with anything the future throws at us."

Although Harry had to roll from his chair to dodge the hex Severus hurled at him, the way the spell light bounced harmlessly off the wall and the amusement in Severus' snort told him that Severus was touched by the sentiment in Harry's words. Harry smiled as he dusted himself off and returned to his place beside his temperamental, sarcastic, loyal, and devoted partner. Yes, he could definitely get used to this.