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FIC: Pummelled Potter
Title: Pummelled Potter
Author: Hel Bee
Rating: R
Pairing: HP/SS
Disclaimer: JKR owns the lot
Summary: Sev has seen the article and he is not a happy Potions Master.
Feedback: If you wouldn’t mind!! hlb15124@yahoo.com
Beta: Amanda Saitou and Dahlias
Archive: Part of the From Dusk till Dawn Severus Snape/Harry Potter Fuh-Q-Fest
at http://www.kardasi.com/HPSS/storyindex.htm
Author’s notes. Warning - MPREG and clichéd fluff Answers the challenge: No man is an island. Sequel to Potion Pummelling (from Wave VI).

One: Thinking too much isn’t good for you.

I have decided that the muggle sentiment of discretion being the better part of valour is even more apt when dealing with a hostile Snape. Especially a very hormonal, pissed off Snape who has just read a certain article by Rita Skeeter. The last time I saw Sev this angry we were out of candy floss – it was not a pretty sight! His top lip is curled into a snarl and his knuckles are white with fury as his hands grip a copy of this morning’s Daily Prophet. “What have you done?” he growls, grinding out the words.
Before I can either protest my innocence or throw an accusation back there is a flurry of owls. A window left open for means of ventilation has provided them with an entrance to Sev’s suite at Hogwarts and now it is raining red envelopes.
One by one the howlers burst open and spill their vitriol:
“ YOU PERVERTED OLD MAN! HARRY IS ONLY A BABY HIMSELF!”
“ HOW DARE YOU DEFILE HIM? YOU DEATH EATER SCUM!”
“ I KNOW YOU MUST HAVE FORCED HIM TO SLEEP WITH YOU. NO ONE WOULD WILLINGLY SLEEP WITH SOMEONE THAT ODIOUS!”
The screams continue until they reach a cacophony of wails. I clamp my hands over my ears and the two of us race into the corridor of the dungeons to escape the noise. I turn to speak to Severus but he is in no mood to listen to me. “What on Earth possessed you to do that article, you dunderheaded, idiotic twit?”
I am so angry. I’ve spent the last three months biting my tongue, blaming the insults on hormones and mood swings. I have had enough. “You were the one who thought I wanted to hide our relationship. I went to Rita so it wouldn’t be a secret anymore.”
He bares his teeth. “Obviously you have taken too many bludgers to the head during your quidditch career. Do you really think I’d want to be hounded by the whole of the wizarding word, putting my life and the life of my child at risk?”
With a final snort of derision, no doubt pertaining to the look of shock I’m wearing, he turns on the spot and marches away as quickly as a six-month pregnant man is capable of.
“ Shit,” I mutter, realising the time. I am already late for training and I am in no mood to hear a lecture from my coach about tardiness or deal with one of Sev’s tantrums. But there is something more worrying than a few howlers and our regular sniping matches.
Sure I have always known that being with Snape would not be easy, but I never thought it would be this hard. We have gotten to know each other better over the last few months and I have grown increasing fond of the old git. But is it love? And even if it is, will it be enough? Am I so stupid to think I can be both a monogamous partner and a father at twenty-three? Do I really think I can turn my back so easily on the lifestyle I led before I knocked up Big Chief Moody Bollocks?
All morning my mind churns these doubts over inside my head. I was balled out at training for lack of concentration by the coach, teased relentlessly about my comments in the Prophet by my team mates and, to make matters worse, a badly planned manoeuvre had aggravated my old shoulder injury.
Carla Twillet, a fine chaser and excellent sounding board, plonks a tumbler containing an amber liquid in front of me as I now sit in the bar of the training ground, doing an amazing impression of a miserable sod. “Need a friendly ear?”
I look up at her. She is tall and thin, a pretty woman who, when I was in my bachelor days, provided me with more than just a friendly ear. I have woken up next to her more than once during stressful times but on the whole we are good friends and she's someone who I can talk to who doesn’t know Sev. “You saw the Prophet?”
She nods. A soft lank of blonde hair falls over her face and she quickly tucks it behind an ear. “You could’ve told me.”
I offer up a thin smile. “Well, y’know, the Boy Hero isn’t meant to shag Death Eater scum, is he?”
As the afternoon continues we are joined in the small, dimly lit bar by other members of the team. My spirits soar as they ply me with alcohol, I forget about the argument and the happy relaxed Harry returns. Only to be chased away when I feel Carla’s soft lips brush my own. I shove her away quickly but it is the cold voice that calls from behind me that make me really worried. “Harry Fucking Potter.”
I whip around and find myself staring into the silver eyes of Draco Malfoy. The man who helped me kill not only his own father but also numerous other members of Voldemort’s inner circle. And most importantly, Severus Snape’s godson. Two: Appeasing the blond twitI grab Malfoy by an arm and frog march him away from our audience. Don’t get me wrong, he may have joined our side – eventually – during the war, but we are not friends. In fact, I barely tolerate him, and try my best to be civil for Sev’s sake.
I know that the situation looks bad, but I have rapidly come to my senses. There is no way I will allow the hormonal ravings of a pregnant man prevent me from being anything other than a perfect father and attentive partner. The second part may be harder than the first, as I’m sure Sev will expect a large amount of attention i.e. creeping on my behalf as an apology for that article.
A sneer very reminiscent of his godfather’s graces his pointy features. “After everything you have done to him, you can’t even keep your hands to yourself!” he spits angrily.
“ Draco…” I begin, but he quickly cuts me off.
“ No Potter,” he snarls, “you have reduced my godfather to an emotional wreck, beset by cravings for things he usually detests. Suffering from mood swings that are both unpredictable and dangerous for any poor bastard who happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
I get the feeling he may be the poor bastard in question, but I hold my tongue as he continues, “And now he’s convinced that he’s going to have deal with all of this on his own since you waltzed out on him this morning!”
The Severus Snape I know is not known for temper tantrums. Actually that is complete lie, he’s not known for irrational temper tantrums. However, the usual Snape is not swimming in oestrogen and willing to kill to sate his sugar needs. Shit, I need to go back, and now. This is not a good sign if the prince of sarcasm is blubbing to his godson.
“ Draco,” I start again, this time he allows me to continue. “What did Severus say?”
He waves his hands melodramatically in the air. “Oh, that he was originally going to do this own his own and now it seems he was right after all. How that he suddenly feels abandoned. God, Potter, this is wrong. Severus Snape is an ill mannered bastard who eats whining miscreants for breakfast. This is all your fault!”
I believe am doing a rather accurate impression of a landed bream. Draco grabs me by the front of my robes. “Fix it!” he hisses.
“ I will. I swear nothing happened.”
“ It better not have!” With a faint pop he apparates away.

Three: Some Headmasters should be locked awayI am about to apparate back to the castle when, what I recognise to be one Hogwart’s owls, glides down and drops a letter in my hands. I tear into it:Harry,
Although I prefer not to get involved with the private lives of my staff, I feel I need to talk to you about Severus.
Please come to see me at your earliest convenience and bring your cloak.
AlbusI am not sure whether to be annoyed at the inferring old codger, Sev’s terminology not mine, or amused that the Headmaster may truly believe his declaration. The only way Albus Dumbledore could keep his nose out of something would be to have it surgically removed and buried in concrete, and then I am sure he would simply use another appendage.
I flue to Albus’ office (via my flat – to pick up the cloak), stepping out onto the purple and lime green hearth rug. I am sure he only keeps that woven monstrosity to cause visual confusion to his visitors and therefore knocking them off their guard.
“ Ah, Harry,” he welcomes me, standing up from behind his desk. I note his robes are less colourful then usual.
“ Albus, I come as summoned.”
“ Excellent, on with the cloak. Severus is having tea with me at any moment.”
“ But…”
“ Come on Harry, time is of the essence.”
I do as I am told and with a surprisingly firm grip for a man of his age he forces me into a corner. For some inexplicable reason I feel like I should be wearing a dunce’s cap.
Sev enters and for the first time in a long time I truly look at him. His hair is greasier than normal and his complexion is very pale. As he lifts his hand to his face I see his once stained fingers now clean. Evidently Poppy’s insistence that his refrains from using certain potion ingredients is beneficial to his hands as well as the baby.
“ Good afternoon, Albus,” he greets the Headmaster. “I see you have toned down your attire especially.”
Albus chuckles. “Well I don’t want to trigger another bout of nausea, do I?”
I smile, I remember that particular rant. Albus proffers a bowl of boiled sweets which Sev accepts and begins to systemically work his way through them, shedding the cellophane and crunching happily. A look of pure bliss spreads across his face. Between loud crunches he speaks, “And why am I here today, pray tell?”
Albus leans forward. “I am worried.”
Sev snorts. “About what the governors will say now my secret is out?”
“ Severus,” Albus warns gently, “you know as well as I do that I don’t give a hippogriff’s arse about what the governors think in this situation. I am worried about you.”
“ I am fine.”
“ With the greatest of respect, Severus, you do not look fine. Even more students than usual have complained about your temper. I have received fifteen letters this morning from parents about your treatment of their children, although I dare say today’s newspapers may have had something to do with that. And Draco has been to see me.”
Sev slumps further into his seat. “Draco found me at a bad time, I’d had an argument with Harry and the experimental draft I’ve created for the hormone imbalance doesn’t seem to be working as well as it did.”
“ He was very concerned; he thought you believed to yourself to be on your own.”
A sorrowful sigh escaped Sev’s thin lips. “I did not react well to the article. Like I have already said, Harry and I argued. I do not think he will come back this time, and to be frank I do not blame him.”
“ You surely don’t think he has abandoned you?” asked Albus incredulously.
“ But why would he stay? When I first told him about the pregnancy I told him I did not expect anything from him. And now as I grow bigger each day and undoubtedly even less attractive, what young man in his right mind, especially one with an army of admirers, would choose to be with me?”
Albus rises from his seat and moves to stand beside Sev, draping a comforting arm around him. “Harry cares very much for you, and I truly believe he will be back once he has had the chance to calm down.”
Sev raises his eyes to the Headmaster, and in a pitifully quiet voice he asks, “And what if he doesn’t?”
“ Then you will have both Draco and me for support. No man is an island Severus, and I will be your connection to the main land.”
The old man stares directly at me. For the first time I realise just how much Sev means to him. A wave of emotion sweeps though me, leaving me feeling wretched, like a pummelled potion ingredient. Four: Sentimental Gryffindor rubbishI escape Dumbledore’s office as he comforts Sev. There is a twinge in my chest as I realise that it should be me doing that. I make my way quickly to the dungeons to wait for Sev to return, giving me the chance to arrange my thoughts.
Sometime later, my nails much shorter and with a queasiness in my stomach that must surely be as bad as morning sickness, Sev returns.
We stare at each other for a moment. I get to my feet and move to him. Before he can say anything I wrap arms around his shoulders and embrace him as tightly as I dare. I hold my breath waiting for him to reciprocate and I relax as his arms fasten around my waist. “I am so sorry,” I murmur into his hair. “I should have spoken to you first.”
“ I over-reacted.”
I pull away. “No. You were right, I should think before I act.”
He smirks. “Harry, you have more chance of taming your hair than thinking before you act. Although,” he smiles, “we could at least start with the thinking part.”
I reach up and stroke his cheek. “You know I’m here for you, don’t you?”
His eyes narrow. “Have you been talking to someone?”
“ Draco did have a few choice words for me. But all he did was make me understand that this pregnancy is affecting you in ways you did not expect. And I want you to know I am going nowhere.”
“ You went today,” he says, clearly uncertain.
“ I came back. It was a stupid argument and I’m sorry.”
He clears his throat roughly. “Enough of this foolish Gryffindor sentimentality. I don’t know why you’re fussing so much, Potter.”
“ Well, y’know, I have to keep my favourite bed warmer happy,” I answer, knowing Sev will not wish to continue the discussion of something he would class as a weakness.
“ Favourite? Does that mean there are others,” a playful smile on his lips. “Perhaps I should remind you of my talents, that way you would not even contemplate anyone with lesser skills than my own.”
His dark eyes sparkle and he drops to his knees in front of me. Pale hands work their way under my robe and quickly release my burgeoning erection. I hiss in pleasure as the moist heat encompasses as my flesh and I watch in awe as I disappear into his mouth. Precision timing in his profession is everything and he can bring his work home as often as he likes if he keeps this up. His tongue presses hard against my flesh, utilising the prefect suction and pressure. I am in ecstasy. I can last no longer and I empty myself into him.
He pulls back, wiping his mouth against the back of his hand. “You do realise, Harry, that these damn hormones don’t just make me moody?”
Helping him to his feet I grin. “Well, for once I think I should pander to them.”

Five: Eights months and counting
Severus is blooming. Well, ballooning. At over eight months pregnant he is huge and feeling mightily sorry for himself. I am nervous on two counts. Firstly about the up and coming birth and secondly, I am going to propose, as soon as Draco buggers off and leaves us alone. The blond-haired creep has been here all afternoon and has spent his time clucking over Sev like a rabid chicken. It’s as if he thinks I can’t look after my own partner.
Eventually, Ferret Boy leaves and I take my rightful place next to Sev on the sofa, where the interloper had been sitting. Sev shifts himself and winces at the aches and pains in his body. With one hand I gently rub the small of his back, with the other I pull a box out of my robes.
“ Severus?”
“ Hmmm?”
“ Look, I want to ask you something. I didn’t bring this up after the article was published because I didn’t want you to think I felt pressured into it…” I stop as he glowers at me. I swallow noisily and continue, slipping on to one knee in front of him. “Will you marry me?”
He looks surprised. “You don’t have to do this, Harry.”
“ I know. I want to.”
He stares at me. I’m not sure what he’s looking for. “Sev, what’s your answer?”
Sev suddenly exhales sharply, bending over, clutching at his stomach. “Can’t talk now. Baby coming!” he gasps.

Six: Dolan I lean over the wooden frame of his crib, he is sleeping and I have never seen anything so wonderful in my life. He has a smattering of black hair across his head, a full collection of fingers and toes and a scream that could pierce lead. Still only a few days old, as wrinkled as Albus and terribly pink, but I am truly smitten.
Sev enters the nursery and stands beside me. I look up at him, he is still tired and sore from the caesarean, but obviously very happy. “I hope he inherits your good luck.”
I laugh. “But your brains, right?”
It is his turn to laugh. “I though Dolan would be a suitable name.”
“ Very fitting.” I bite my lip, “and his surname?”
“ Potter-Snape.” He thrusts a small box into my hands. “Get me pregnant again, Potter, and you’ll be wearing that around your neck.”
He leaves deliberately so he doesn’t have to explain himself. I open the box and inside sits a platinum wedding ring. With trembling fingers I pick it up and read the inscription on the band, the Snape family motto: confidens, pudour, devotio.
I have my answer.
FIN
A/N confidens, pudour, devotio: self-reliant, self-respect, self-sacrifice
Dolan: meaning black haired

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