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Chapter 3: Beginning's End To any fly that would have been as lucky (or foolish) enough to stray into his line of sight, the dark-clad, lank-haired human resting in the tatty armchair below would have seemed just like any other random object in the room. Only if the fly had the courage (or recklessness) to come down from the wall for a closer look, would it have then noticed the mirage-like shimmer of the fading glamour charm above his waist, or the one apparent sign of life he exhibited - a quill that twirled and jerked in little agitated patterns between the long, slender, callused fingers of the hand that held it. Severus Snape (for that man was he) was working over a problem that had been occupying him, since it's appearance three weeks ago. The matter concerned Harry Potter's life, which he had recently learnt to be in great danger - and he had been applying himself to finding out a way of saving him. So far, though he did not like very much any of the options found so far. Six and a half weeks had passed after the first meeting in the waiting room, and the births were now happening in earnest. Ron's son had been born last week, both doing extremely well after a relatively uncomplicated surgical delivery. The Longbottom's newborn daughter gained a sister two days before that, when Neville, while visiting his wife and parents, had noticed that his pains had come on suddenly and persistently. His delivery too had gone safely, and although Luna was still a little frail, it was generally considered that she would be well enough to come home with her husband. Pansy was resting in St. Mungo's, the healers having told her that her two children would almost certainly come tomorrow, if not tonight. Draco was also in the hospital; he was not due himself for another week yet, but they were keeping him under observation as much for the sake of his mental condition as his physical one. Of the group who had met three weeks ago, only Severus and Harry Potter remained both undelivered, and still out of hospital. Potter's physical health had improved greatly since Severus had put him on the extra potions, though his mood had become more sombre in that time. That change was not due solely from pre-birth anxiety, as Severus well knew. It was he who had charmed Potter's body with a carefully targeted slowing spell, so as to delay the young wizard's own labour – and buy himself more time to plan. The manufacturers of the artificial womb – that Ministry invention within which both Potter's, and his own child now lived - had neglected to include a birth canal in the design. The result of this oversight was that he, like nearly all of the other wizards whom Umbridge likewise burdened, had little way of knowing they were about to labour, until the process had actually started. There was nothing to dilate, nothing to show, no place where any waters could break from. Only the actual contractions themselves which, when they came, made it a matter of urgency for the wizard to get to a healer, before the unnatural contraption - lacking a proper outlet – tore itself open from the strain of it's own efforts. When he had asked the healers why he'd been given such an incomplete piece of equipment, they had told him that the average wizard would be happier to comply with his duties, if he had been spared the embarrassment of an extra hole. When he then asked wether he could choose a time of delivery before the labour began, he was told that it was better for the child to be born under his or her proper planetary alignments – so it was best to let nature and fate choose the time. The irresponsibility of it all defied description. If he was willing to put up with having an extra hole that was going to help his survival chances, Severus thought, then anyone should. Severus had been feeling the strain lately. Technically speaking, he was capable of beginning his own labour at any time, since his own due time had passed without incident five days ago. He'd become increasingly impatient and irritated with Hermione's inquiries about how he'd currently be feeling (on all two occasions that she tried), so it had lately fallen to Topsy to do the essential running around between them. The child he carried had become much quieter lately, due no doubt to the lack of elbowroom she now had. He recalled Potter's comments on how it had felt to reach that point … and was unable, for the life of him, to understand what it was in that sensation that fascinated the young wizard so much. To Severus, all it felt like was being constantly ready to burst. The very thought that he would be forced to go through it all again spurred him on with his plans, in spite of urging from others to rest himself for his approaching ordeal. Even my enemies must sleep sometimes, he thought dourly, while scribbling a few more lines down onto a parchment. Leaning back to think, he again found himself glancing at his own body. The glamour had worn off completely, and its grossness still unnerved him - though he was becoming almost used to it by now. A summer afternoon breeze picked up outside, sending a gust of air wafting through the room. The smell of his own hair reached his nostrils; one of the pregnancy's effects was to make its natural oiliness frustratingly worse than usual, and he sighed through gritted teeth. I stink, the room stinks, he thought, everything stinks - what else is new, then? He looked over to the corner of his room, where the still unpacked Ministry-issue baby stuff sat where he had told Topsy to leave it. He did not have to open the package to know what it looked like; he had seen the Weasley's new children (those of the twin's, as well as Ron and Hermione's) all dressed, washed, and sleeping in them. They were identically decorated in the same sickly design, of pink and blue beribboned kittens, that he had seen on the dinner plates she had brought to Hogwarts the year she taught Defence Against The Dark Arts there, back when the last war with Voldemort had just begun. The Weasley twins, incidentally, had been working on a way to alter the design into something more tasteful. So far, they had only succeeded in turning the kittens black or turquoise – but Severus had copied the spell down anyway, fancying, during a small lapse into sentimentality, that black kittens would very much suit his child's nature. Between the increasingly frequent and vivid dreams he'd been having about her - and impressions gleaned from the use of Legilimency - he felt more confident that he was getting to know her better. In a way, that knowledge had made it easier for him, now, to accept the prospect of her arrival. There were times, in relatively idle moments such as this one, he would think about such things as what house she would be sorted into, should she ever get to attend Hogwarts … and what sort of world she would be growing up in. Sometimes, he even wondered if the next child they would force him to have would turn out to be a son … and whether whoever was in charge of the Ministry then, would do to him what had been done to his … 'father?' … The moment he came of age. When he thought of that, he thought of that first sight of Potter's pale face and distended body, back then in the waiting room, and; as always at such times, he found that he could not concentrate for the moment. Severus put down his quill and paper, and sent them floating over to a nearby table, taking a break from work to clear his mind… … So an entire afternoon passed, the cloudy sky outside the plain, dirty bedroom windows changing it's colour to gold, then orange, before fading to indigo - while he slept, oblivious to the occasional house-elf footsteps outside his door. He dreamt about his daughter again, as was usual. This time, he was explaining houses, spare rooms and guests to her. He told her that a boy was coming to live with them while they were still together, but she would not be inconvenienced, because he was making a closet for him under the stairs, where he would live until she was ready to leave. He told her that he would move into her bedroom after she went. She didn't argue with him this time, like she had tended to lately - only listened until he was finished – and then asked him why he hadn't given her a name yet … When Severus awoke, the sky had become black outside. By the clock, it was twenty past nine. His nap had lasted four hours. Briefly recalling his dream, he thought also of the time, when he had been in his fifth month, he had a secret fancy for the idea of delivering the child at home, alone and in private. The thought had its appeal to him, and it was an almost-pleasant diversion to toy around with vague plans as to what charms, spells and potions he would use. Sometimes, he had even fantasised about himself turning up one morning at the breakfast table, a few pounds lighter, with his robes decently tied in with a belt once again … casually mentioning to his visitors that he'd found the Ministry-issued basinet barely adequate to the task … It was a daydream that was swiftly abandoned, after overhearing both Longbottom's and (even) Weasley's accounts of their birthing experiences. Severus was a realist by nature, and he had no reason to expect his own delivery to come about with more dignity than theirs. Still, he did not feel the need to tell anyone yet that the same slowing charm he cast on Potter, he'd secretly cast on himself. It would not do, after all, to be laid out in hospital himself when Potter's time came. He felt it to be his solemn duty to save the young wizard, even if that meant that his own (still unnamed) child would have to wait. Letting out another sigh, he took out his wand, and traced a square in the air in front of him, at an angle he could comfortably reach whilst sitting back. It had long become too awkward for him to lean forward over his low table to write, and it was too fiddly to keep charming his table to a better height. "Firmus Pro Membrana", he said, and then waved his hand through the apparently unaffected patch of air to test it. Satisfied, he aimed the wand at his quill and parchments. In response to his unspoken spell, they levitated over to where he could grab them. He spread the parchment out over the charmed patch of air, which became solid to its touch. Taking up his quill, he resumed work on his plans. He had found a procedure, in one of his books on the dark arts, that he thought – with the right modifications - might give Potter a chance. A Dark Arts professor from Durmstrang had discovered it two centuries ago, when he was working on a way for wizards to give the Dementor's Kiss. According to the notes on the procedure, the first trial of the spell was successful, but had the side effect of causing the researcher to become pregnant soon after, when the unnaturally extracted soul sought to create a new body for itself. The book went on to describe how, when the witch that the Muggle's soul (and embryo) were transferred to, eventually gave birth, the author found that the child had regained the Muggle's consciousness, character and memories in the course of her development. When born, she had the mind of an adult Muggle, in the body of an infant witch. The spell for the procedure had to be performed nonverbally, of course, but the wording and intent that was required was alarmingly simple. Severus had already spoken with Potter and Dumbledore about it, and though both initially registered shock at the method, both had agreed that this way was probably the young wizard's best chance. Horrific as it was, it had become their basic plan - until he could somehow find something better. Both Mrs. Potter and Mrs. Weasley had volunteered to learn the spell, and had been practicing it since the last meeting; it was prudent that more than one witch prepare herself to take the soul, since it was also written that, from further experiments, none who was bleeding at the time could perform it … the taker's body would reject the soul at once, and without the shelter of a body or the natural guidance of a normal death process, it could dissipate. Even when the taker was unblemished, it took at least seven days for the soul to secure itself in the host's body, during which time it remained vulnerable. As a precaution, should the taker be wounded during that time, the book advised that a sealing spell be performed as soon as possible after the transfer. There was a chilling familiarity to that spell - Severus had heard one almost identical to it uttered before; when Lord Voldemort had been making yet another Horcrux for himself. It was a mirror, if I remember correctly, he thought, I was going to tell Regulus about it when I got the chance, but I never did … as bad as things were now, he was still very grateful that those days were over for the time being. It was also agreed, unanimously, that when Potter's time came, under no circumstances was he to be taken to St. Mungo's. Whatever happened, his offspring would be delivered at home. He, along with both the Potters, and the Weasleys, had studied what information they could find on the appropriate procedures. Severus had refined his Sectumsempera spell to the point where he could use it to quarter a pumpkin, or cut the skin of a peach without damaging the flesh underneath. Madam Weasley's skill in the spell equalled his, with most of the others close behind. Due to the possibility of Potter's physical death, an alibi had also been agreed upon. … Getting back to work, Severus dabbed his quill into the bottle to refresh the ink - and then realised that he had, without thinking, been balancing the inkbottle on the top of his belly. He couldn't be bothered with being disgusted with that kind of thing anymore, not after what felt like a lifetime of being that size. Besides, he had kept the bottle charmed against spillage or dropping. Carefully, he started to map out a plan for a better alternative. He was sure that if an old transfiguration spell he knew of could be modified in the right way … There was a soft tapping on the door. Severus stirred, waving the quill, ink and parchments aside with his wand, pushed himself out of the armchair, and then half-walked, half waddled to the door. It was Topsy, who looked up with wide, timid-looking eyes at him through the door crack; "I is gone up on Mistress Weasley's wishes to see how you is doing, Master Snape", she said, bowing a little "Mistress Weasley was worried when you hadn't come down for long time". "Tell Madam Weasley I am fine", He replied, as politely as he could manage, "I had just been preoccupied with some work". Topsy bobbed in acknowledgement, but did not leave. Severus asked, "Is there something else that she needs to know from me?" He snapped, causing her to squirm a bit at the tone of his voice. He wondered if Madam Weasley had also sent her up to check on how he was doing with the child …"Mistress Weasley wishes to know if you is wanting something to eat, as she is making sandwiches now", the House Elf answered, "If you is wanting another onion, cheese and strawberry jam roll with anchovies and capers, Mistress can make one ready for you soon". Damn Madam Weasley and that nosey House Elf, Severus thought, I was hoping to keep that particular craving a private matter … but even though he had just woken, for some reason, Severus did not feel like eating right now. "Please let Madam Weasley know that I'm not hungry at the moment", he said to the House Elf. She gave him a bobbing curtsey, then disapparated. Snape noticed that his back had begun to ache again – and he was tired. In spite it of being high summer … two nights before Potter's birthday in fact; the night was becoming unseasonably chilly. It was time for him to return to the warmth of his bed, before the discomfort set in too much. His bladder woke him at an ungodly hour; the first of several such trips that by now had become a nightly ritual. He had been roused in the middle of a dream where he had been arguing with his daughter, who now appeared as a child of six or seven. While waiting for his head to clear, he remembered her defiant expression, her hands fisted at her sides…yelling in that way only a child can. She was trying to scream him out of an arrangement he had made… something about how she liked having the house all to herself, and didn't want to share it with some boy who would steal her space, her food and her oxygen … He soon realised that it was more than his bladder that needed attending to this time, so he shoved the chamber pot back under his bed with his foot. Taking his wand, he made his way downstairs to the lavatory. Passing his sitting room on the way, he noticed that the fire was still lit, and he could hear Weasley and Potter's voices from behind the wall of bookcases. That too had become a normality, lately … Potter and his friends had been regularly coming to his house to talk to Dumbledore, or to each other. Considering that Potter was most likely living on borrowed time, Severus had decided to turn a blind eye to such impositions. Not that he would have had much choice in it, anyway. Between Dumbledore's resistance meetings and everything else, his home may as well have become a bus stop, with the crowd that kept parading through it. Still, had it not been for the current urgency of Nature's Call, he felt strongly tempted to eavesdrop on them. He decided that, since Potter was one of those talking - and he was once again looking after the brat, it might be worthwhile to listen a little on the way back. With that in mind, he continued on, attending to more urgent matters. Returning from the lavatory, he stopped over to raid his pantry, selecting something to take the edge off his hunger, and aid his sleep before the need for the next toilet run interrupted it again. He could still hear Ron and Potter's voices, so he quietly moved over behind a bookcase to listen … "It's ok, Ron", he heard Potter say, "it's going to be ok, really. Please try not to worry too much about me, even if professor Snape can't find a better way than that, he knows what he's doing, and Dumbledore also agrees with it". "I don't like the idea of Ginny or Hermione giving some kind of Dementor kiss to you". Weasley replied. "They might have to" Potter said, "I'll take the chance, if it's all that I have". There was a brief silence - then it sounded like Weasley was almost crying, or trying not to. "What if it doesn't work, Harry? You're my best mate, we've known each other for such a long time … we've been through so much together … grown up together, saved our necks over and over together … I don't know what I'll do if you go…" Silence… then Potter's voice again; "Shush, Ron, it's ok" he said, "They're doing their best. It'll probably turn out ok, and I'll be born nine months later right as rain. It'll just be a little bit weird being a baby again for a while, that's all", Potter said, "And even weirder still that I'll be younger than my kids", he added, "But I should come out of it with all my marbles intact, Ron", he said, adding; "As soon as I can, I promise to let you know one way or another that I'm ok after this is over …" "Harry", Weasley whispered, "I don't want you to die". Silence. "I'm not going to die, Ron" Potter whispered, "In a few months time, I'll be seeing my children. I'll be getting a chance to start over, with a real family this time". Silence…then, the sound of a sniffle, and the muffled sobs of a man trying not to cry too loudly… "I want to believe you" Weasley replied, in a hoarse, cracking whisper, "But I can't". "Then say goodbye, if you need to", Potter said, "but try to have some faith that you'll be seeing me again soon". "Harry …" Weasley whispered, choked up now, and barely able to talk, "Remember when we first met on the train, and your chocolate frog got away?" "Ron, it's ok" Potter answered, "it's ok, it's going to be all right, as soon as I'm old enough to eat one again, we'll share one – promise". Severus did not hear Weasley answer, but he did hear muffled sobbing, and a rustle of blankets. Severus decided to move to a place behind the bookcase where he knew there was a crack. The lightness charm he had cast earlier was weakening, and his body's maternal weight made him clumsy and off-balance, so he slowly crept as carefully and quietly as possible to that opening. It was his job to look after Potter, after all, so he just needed to take a look … Weasley was kneeling by Potter's couch, head bowed, and shoulders shaking. He had Potter's hand in one of his own - the other was stroking him, flat-palmed, over his shoulders, back and flanks; carefully avoiding Potter's belly, Severus noticed. Potter's free hand emerged from under the blanket, took Weasley's hand, and guided it onto the bulge, gently holding it there for a while. "Don't be afraid of them", he said, "That's Remus and Oliver in there, see? You can feel them moving, can't you?" "I don't want you to die" Weasley whispered. "The only other alternative is for me to stay pregnant for the rest of my life, if that was possible". Potter replied. "And apart from the fact that I'd probably never be able to even safely fly again, let alone play Quidditch", Potter continued, "It's not going to be fair on them …" Potter's hand slid off from Weasley's, passing it almost reverently over the curve (Severus had to fight the urge to look away), "… to keep them cooped up inside of me forever as well. They will need their freedom, just like me. You'll be seeing them very soon, Ron", he said, "please take good care of them, until I come back". "I will, Harry, I will … that is my promise to you", Weasley replied. Severus watched, chastely startled, as he then bent his head down to Potter's face, planting the quietest of kisses on Potter's temple; as close to the corner of the young wizard's eye as the glasses would allow. "Ron!" Potter said, trying to make it sound like a protest – but Severus could see a small smile forming on the boy's wan features. "A kiss for your birthday tomorrow, Harry", Weasley said, embracing Potter around the shoulders, pressing his forehead against Potter's. Weasley's hand wandered from that brief embrace, back to Potter's body again, resting without hesitation this time on the bulge. "Your boys will be safe with me", he affirmed, giving a quick little rub as he spoke. "Thank you, Ron, you don't know how much this means to me", Potter said. For the next few minutes, Severus watched as the two of them held each other, face-to-face, rubbing noses, occasionally exchanging a modest kiss. He watched Weasley's hand as it travelled gently over Potter's body, massaging his shoulders, back, behind his neck, sometimes giving the twins a reassuring pat before moving on. "It's well after midnight, Hermione and Ginny'll be worried", Potter said, eventually. Severus thought that the boy was sounding unusually tired. "Your absolutely right, Harry", Weasley replied, tenderly giving Potter's unruly hair a tussle, "We should be going, c'mon, I'll help you get up so we can floo you home". "Do you think it's really a good idea to leave Professor Snape alone in the house, seeing that he's really very close now himself?" "He should be fine", Weasley replied, "Topsy's been told to keep an eye on him, Dumbledore's orders. And Hermione and Ginny's, as well, I might add". Severus watched Weasley help Potter up from the couch, and, still wrapped in his blanket, walk unsteadily (Weasley supporting him) over to the fireplace. Weasley took out some floo powder, and Severus watched the fire suddenly flare green as the two of them entered … and then disappeared. Severus realised, after they had gone, that he had quite forgotten to be offended by the concern that Potter had expressed for him … or, for that matter, forgotten to stay offended by that little display before that. But they were not the things that were concerning him most at the moment. Potter looked and sounded like he had taken a turn for the worse. Severus decided, as soon as he got the rest that he needed tonight, to make an extra effort on that transfiguration option. By the way things were looking now, he did not have much more time … As it turned out, he did not have any more time to think up a better plan. It was not his bladder that woke him up next time, but the nerve-rattling crack of Topsy apparating by his bedside. The sky outside his window was showing the barest first hints of dawn. By the light of his wand, he could see that the House-Elf was upset; her ears were shaking, and she was pulling nervously at a corner of the hand towel she was wearing. "Master Snape", she pleaded, "please wake up, sir. Mistress Weasley sent me to bring you, it be Master Potter, she just bring him in from the floo, he is downstairs and he be having bad, bad trouble …" Severus did not need to hear any more to realise what was happening; Potter's time had finally run out. The slowing spell had done what it could; delaying the inevitable, but it was unable to hold it off in the end. "Take the small potions box and the dragon leather instrument case, get down to them, and wait for me!" He ordered. Topsy scrambled for the boxes, while Severus took a few precious seconds to cast a Featherbelly charm on himself. He could not afford to risk letting the weight of his body make him clumsy at a time such as this. He got to his feet as Topsy cracked out of the room again. Gathering his robes under one arm (he did not have time to change out of his nightshirt), he snagged a jug of Eclipse Dew with two of the free fingers of his wand hand, opened the door with a flick of his wand, and then started down the stairs after her. His own child was still sleeping, thank goodness. He considered casting a body-bind on her, should he feel her starting to wake; for if Potter was to survive, Severus would need to be able to use full concentration to guide whatever witch it was who would take the young man's soul … As Severus entered the room, he saw Potter on a transfigured couch, lying on his side under a blanket. In the floo-green light of the fire, he could see the wizard's paled face resting on a cushion. He had kept his glasses on, and he was still in his robes. Judging by the roundness under the blanket, he had at least had the sense not to wear a glamour this time. The scene looked almost serene, as if he was merely taking a nap. That illusion was dispelled when he greeted Severus with a faint-voiced "Hi sir". Potter sounded no better than he looked. "How far apart are your pains?" He asked Potter, bluntly. "Ten, fifteen minutes, I think they're getting shorter …", the young wizard answered. Severus nodded curtly, keeping his face expressionless. That was not good; he would need to get Ginny Potter here - and ready - as soon as possible, within the next half hour at the latest. He could hear Hermione Weasley scrambling to get things together in the kitchen, but she was currently unable to take Potter's soul, since she informed him that she had started her menses yesterday. "Where is Madam Potter?" Severus asked again. "I don't know … I'm not sure", Potter replied, "When Ron flooed me home, Ginny wasn't around. She'd left a note on the table saying that someone from the Ministry had wanted her to turn up at one of their offices to answer some questions" he said, adding; "I don't know what it was about, but she didn't know what time she'd be back". "We'll need to find her – or a suitable replacement – soon". Severus replied, "Because you do not have much time". The next moment, Madam Weasley also entered the room, carrying some towels and an empty basin. Topsy followed behind with a jug of water and a vial, of what was probably strengthening solution. Potter looked away as the two put their load down on a table, next to the Eclipse Dew, potions tin and instrument case that Topsy had before taken down from the bedroom. "Do you have any idea where Madam Potter is?" He asked. She just shook her head, adding; "Harry said she had urgently been detained for questioning by the Misuse of Magic department. He had to floo Topsy at your place to come over and wake us up, when he couldn't rouse us himself", she added; "I came over to get him, we left a note for Ginny to get here as soon as she could …" "Suspiciously inconvenient time to make such a request …" Severus muttered, his mind racing, "We have to consider the possibility that she may not be released in time". He turned to Potter, who looked like he had just come out of a severe contraction; he was still breathing heavily, and his face was even paler than before … if that was possible. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his eyes were closed. Severus looked at the clock on his mantelpiece, making a quick mental note of the time. "Ron Weasley, where is he?" Severus asked, his voice sharp. "At home with Seamus, the baby", Madam Weasley replied. "If Madam Potter does not come in time", Severus said, "We will need to consider him …" "He can't do it", Madam Weasley replied, "Why?" Severus asked. "Because he is still not quite finished bleeding from his own delivery", she answered, "He only has to cleanse himself there once a day now, but he still needs to do it, so …" "What about Fred, or George?" he asked, again. "Both of them had a little mishap when they were testing out some crawling capillary powder" Madam Weasley replied, "They've got oozing, crusting sores all over their faces at the moment, which they've been letting their babies pick at whenever they carry them around …" "So they are unavailable too", Severus said, cutting in on her again. Who else … who else? He thought, desperately, going over every remotely trustworthy and reachable person in his mind. Surely there has got to be someone else who I can guide through the process … But, he could think of nobody else apart from Ginny Potter … unless? "Ow!" It was Potter. Severus and Madam Weasley turned to look. He was clearly having another contraction, and it looked like a severe one. Glancing at the clock, Severus realised it had been less than five minutes since the last. There was no time to waste… Putting aside his embarrassment (and ignoring Potter's startled look), he knelt down by the couch, and placed one hand flat over Potter's abdomen to steady himself, while pressing one ear against a spot somewhere in the curve below Potter's navel. In the other hand, he took out his wand, and began to scan with it, murmuring a spell under his breath. He was forced to cut his scan short, when after another three minutes, Potter was seized by yet another contraction, causing him to convulse in agony and choke down a scream. Severus had found what he had expected to find, however, and he knew the outlook was grim. He flicked his wand over Potter's body, and the young wizard immediately relaxed, collapsing back down on the couch, semiconscious. Severus knew that the nonverbal calming spell he had cast would not last for more than ten minutes at the most, and that Potter's body, magically speaking, in the full throes of a birth, would most likely resist another such charm, until after the process was over. He fixed his attention to the quavering House Elf. "You!" he said, addressing her, "Apparate immediately to The Burrow, and inform anyone there who is able, to floo the Ministry at once. Inform them that Ginerva Potter is urgently required to come home. You may inform the others at The Burrow of the situation", he added, "But tell them that they are not to pass it onto anyone else … and you are not do so yourself. The moment you are free, you are to return here immediately". "I do as you say, Master Snape". Topsy replied, vanishing with a noise that made the nerves in his fingers want to jump. He heard Potter utter a groan, and Madam Weasley, from somewhere behind him, quietly asked; "Professor … is Harry ok?" He looked at her, and then at him. Potter was breathing now in shallow, uneven gasps. Sweat was beginning to soak through his robes in some places. When Severus put his fingers to his temple to check him, he was inwardly alarmed at how cold the wizard's skin felt, in spite of the sweating. The pulse in his temple, neck and wrist also did not feel right … it felt too weak, and irregular. Turning to address Madam Weasley (after casting an analgesic spell on Potter), he simply said; "No", adding, "His artificial womb is badly strained, and about to rupture. The extra stress from carrying the twins would have made it less capable of withstanding the rigours of labour. The organ has not breached itself yet, but it will surely do so, upon the next contraction that he has". She looked at him, shocked and silent … but understanding. Severus continued; "We have ten minutes or less, before my calming spell wears off, and we can expect Potter to experience another contraction not very long after that". "Can you … strengthen him … there, so it won't burst, somehow?" She asked. "I know a number of appropriate spells", he answered, "But in this situation, they would not work. Births of any kind, natural or not, generate their own very powerful magic. My own power alone would not be great enough to counteract it". He added; "Potter's power, maybe, if you and I were helping him … but as you can see, he is in no condition at the moment to be capable of helping us with that." "So … he's going to die, isn't he … if the Ministry doesn't let Ginny out in time …" she said, almost inaudibly. Severus nodded, adding, "There is something else that I thought of, which might save him yet, but I need to use the next few minutes to think of a way around a … small complication in that plan". "You mentioned something about a transfiguration spell …" she ventured, but he shook his head. "No", he said, and added; "I have no time to explain, please have things ready within the next ten minutes for the delivery of Potter's offspring". "Yes, sir", Madam Weasley, replied, and then she disappeared into the kitchen. Severus eased himself into his armchair to think, while Madam Weasley bustled about in the background, getting everything prepared. He nervously checked the clock at regular intervals, whilst putting his emergency plan together … ten minutes to go before the calming spell wore off … nine minutes … eight … still no sign in the fireplace of anyone flooing back … seven and a half minutes … Severus realised the suspiciousness of the strength and suddenness with which Potter's labour had come on, he wondered what he could to find the cause of that … seven minutes … He felt his own child wake within him; she, sensing his agitation, began to struggle – breaking his train of thought. Without hesitating, he flicked his wand to his own belly, muttering Petrificus Totallus under his breath. The foetus stilled, and he looked up to see Madam Weasley, a crib in her hands, staring at him in shock. "I need to concentrate!" He snapped, and she, thankfully choosing to be sensible about it, nodded grimly, and then got on with her task. Six minutes to go … the fireplace was still unchanged … five and a half … a way finally came to him, though he would need her help … four minutes, no sign of anyone coming, but he had down in his mind the general idea of what he would do … three and a half minutes to go … he reviewed it, it would have to do … "Madam Weasley, it is time!" He ordered, pushing himself out of the armchair, while she finished transfiguring the crib she had just carried in (to a size that could safely hold two infants). Severus walked over to the table, where the spell books were waiting, both book-marked. They would now need two more. Two quick Accio's brought the extra tomes to his hand. Soon, both were on the table with the others, like them opened to the appropriate pages, so that they could be used quickly … two minutes to go … "What are you going to do, sir?" Asked Madam Weasley. "I will be the one to take Potter's soul", he replied bluntly, before taking a swig of the Eclipse Dew. "How … what … you can't, sir!" she stammered, "Your already almost at the end of your own pregnancy … your body can't take another soul!" "I have found a way around it", Severus answered, "But I have no time to explain. We have less than a minute and a half. Get over here, now!" He ordered, "And try to keep Potter's head steady!" She obeyed, and Severus took Potter by the shoulder, and shook it, trying to get him to wake. At one minute to go, the young wizard finally stirred, said "Sir?" to Severus in a sleepy voice. "Potter", he whispered, "We do not have much time. Ginerva has been held back at the Ministry, so you will have to come into me". "Sir?!" Potter exclaimed, weakly, his eyes widening in shock from behind his glasses. Lily's eyes … and so dull and dead looking, he thought, fighting down the urge to choke up … "There is no time to explain things, boy!" he snapped, frustrated and disheartened by the way events were turning. He felt the doomed youth's body flinch beneath his hands at his words (Madam Weasley turned to glare at him), and Severus realised, with less than a minute to go, that if Potter was to trust him fully enough to release his soul when the moment came, then he would have to use a different tactic with him. "Harry", he said, looking into the other wizard's eyes, and trying to keep his voice to a gentle tone … even the sound of the lad's first name felt strange to utter … "Please", he continued, "There is a way that I can make room for you, and you will only have to wait for a little while, until Eileen is born …" (realising, with shock, that he'd just named his own child) "… and then, when my body is ready again after that, I will make you go to where she is now - and then you will be born yourself, when the time for that comes around". Potter looked blankly back at Severus. From somewhere above them, he vaguely heard Madam Weasley saying that she had checked the clock, and the spell had run out a minute ago … looking up from Potter, he ordered; "When I receive the soul, I may not be able to do very much afterwards for a few minutes, so I will need you to perform the fixing spell on me immediately. For it, you will require the thinner book with the red tassel marking it", adding; "and when you have fixed Potter's soul within my body, you are to immediately leave me be, and deliver his children. Is that clear?" She nodded, unable to speak. Severus noticed a tear running down from the corner of one of her eyes, but said nothing. Right now, he wished he could do the same, as he looked at the dying wizard he was holding, the last living fragment of Lily Evans-Potter that remained in this world … "Harry", he said, "Open your mouth, close your eyes, and try to relax as much as possible. I will say the spell nonverbally, and you will feel that you are leaving your body. When that happens, let yourself go and me take you, because you need to leave your body now!" Potter … Harry … nodded, closing, maybe for the last time, those eyes that were so much like his mother's. When the lad would next open them, Severus realised, they would probably be black, like those of the … second father? … he was about to gain. Pushing those thoughts aside, Severus shut his own eyes, and began to focus on the spell; chanting the words of the incantation over and over in his mind, until he felt them arrange themselves into a haunting, songlike rhythm in his head. As he continued, the song began to take on a darker, more chilling tone, which seemed to spread its icy notes through every vein and nerve in his body; he began to almost feel like the Dementor that the spell's effects were designed to mimic. His body felt as if it had started to grow colder, darker, and more ethereal in its nature… though in his mind's eye, he could clearly see as well the blaze of blue-white light around his midriff; after body-binding his unborn child, Severus had followed it up with a basic protective charm. He was glad now, that he did both. Knowing her, she probably would have tried to tear her way out of him, to get away from such powerful magic. She will grow to appreciate such things in time, just as I did, he thought, from somewhere in the back of his mind. As the song in his mind neared its climax, the sitting room, the people, his books, the world began to dissolve around him. Soon, he had almost felt that such things no longer existed, nor had ever been. Severus was elsewhere now, swimming like a fish of darkness through a vast universe of shadows. He was newborn, and free; taking in, with innocent wonderment, the beauty of the abyss of mysteries that he floated in … He soon noticed that he also had a light somewhere inside his own body, a light that had it's own life, weight and form. He knew, somehow, that this was unusual, and he wondered vaguely why its presence did not bother him, for surely his kind found light painful, and shunned it whenever convenient. Yet that light harmed him not, and, in his own distant way, he fancied that he even loved the creature that lived within it … Flowing through the darkness, every cell of his body thrumming in time to the song that surrounded him, Severus felt something moving against his fingers. At first, he assumed it was that creature that he loved which moved, the one that lived inside his pool of light. But his hands were not against his body, but stretched out in front of him, for some reason. Peering closer, he could discern a vaguely familiar creature beneath them, it had short, wild hair the colour of beauty, and strange, round things over it's eyes. It looked like it was in pain of some kind, thrashing it's body around, making a noise he could vaguely hear, muffled as though he was listening to a broadcast from another universe … whatever such a thing as a broadcast was … The pain appeared to come from the middle of it's body, which appeared distended. Severus wondered what the creature's pain would taste like to him, if he drank it, and whether his own precious light-creature would also like it. He saw two other creatures with the sufferer, one, dressed in beauty, who seemed to have fallen over The Sufferer's chest, and another. One that was active, in a way that was uncomfortable to watch. That one seemed to be making a lot of noises; it was holding the Sufferer in one hand, while it tried to shake the fallen one in the other. That one was so irritating. He watched The Sufferer instead; yes, The Sufferer was by far more soothing to look at. Something was wrong, though, he realised, stroking The Sufferer's image with a gnarled, skeletal finger, like one would stroke a precious photograph. The Sufferer was growing weaker… it was dying. Severus understood then, that he wanted to take The Sufferer's soul, to drink it free from it's body, before The Sufferer's body died, and the soul leaked elsewhere, like wasted water. It was a desire stronger than any other he had known. A woman's voice spoke to him out of the singing darkness; she sounded familiar, did he love her once? "Take him, Severus", she said. Severus obeyed. He swam gratefully downwards, to give The Sufferer The Kiss. In the image below, he saw the creature dressed in beauty also stir, and lean it's dark, long-haired head over The Sufferer's face … … Severus felt as if a ton of tepid water had been thrown down his throat. He coughed twice, and then took a deep breath, amazed that his lungs were still clear. Opening his eyes, he found he was lying on the floor of a room that looked familiar to him. He must have been sleeping, for he was sure that he had just dreamt that he lived in a dark and beautiful place, where he could swim through the air, and had a light inside him. There was something that he wanted to drink, and Lily's voice came out of the darkness, she told him that he had to take someone … He realised that there were other people in the room, and looked up. He recognised Hermione Granger, she was kneeling above him, with her hands on his shoulder. She had been trying to shake him awake. He felt as though he should give her a penalty for that kind of impudence; taking points off her accursedly arrogant house would be the best one. She looked older; she must have stolen an ageing potion. He ought to give her at least two week's detention for that. He noticed that her eyes were reddened, and that there were tears running freely out of them. Severus wondered what in the nine hells she was snivelling over … spineless, crying students always irritated him. He saw that there was someone else in the room, so he looked up to the couch above him. He looked familiar, he recognised the glasses and black, unruly hair. It was Potter… no the boy was too short. It must be Potter's son, then. Almost as bad as his arrogant and cowardly father was, if Severus remembered correctly. By the look of him, he must have also taken some of the potion that Miss Granger had stolen. He'll let professor McGonagall know about it, of course, as well as the Headmaster. Both tended to be too soft on their Griffindor students, in his opinion, though usually they agreed to the disciplinary procedures he requested. They will serve detention together, he decided, with Mr. Filch this time - if he was free. He looked up at the boy, to inform him of his punishment. Potter looked like he was sleeping, he should wake him, let him know that he was wanted in his office at seven-thirty. He wondered why he couldn't hear any breathing, or why Miss Granger kept grabbing his shoulder, and shouting gibberish … it was then that he saw the thin line of blood, that ran from somewhere beneath the blanket that covered the boy, to the bottom of the couch, from where it steadily dripped onto the floor. He remembered that he had promised professor Dumbledore that he would protect Potter, with his life if necessary. He started to get up; he had to check on the boy, he should be in the hospital wing, with Madam Pomfrey. He felt an unexpected weight drag at him from his gut, and he looked down … what the hell?! … Whoever did this to me has just earned himself a year's detention, or maybe even a stay in Azkaban! He thought, suddenly enraged … he felt Miss Granger seize his shoulder again, and press the end of a wand against his unnaturally distended flank. "Finite Incantatum", she said, but instead of his body shrinking back to normal, as he hoped, he felt something come alive in there, violently trying to squirm against the confines of his body. That spell is not supposed to do that, he thought, what has been going on here? He looked up again at Potter, and realised that someone had covered the boy's face with the blanket. He noticed that there were other sounds in the room, thin, reedy wails coming from a large, wooden box on the sitting room table. It was decorated with ugly looking paintings of pink kittens. If the thing was half its width, he could have sworn it was a crib … "Professor, Sir, do you know where you are?" It was Miss Granger; he really ought to do something about her impudence … "Is this Hogwarts?" Severus answered, adding; "And Potter … will you explain to me what happened to him, Miss Granger?" "Sir, this is not Hogwarts, we are in you home now" she said, "Harry's body is dead, but you took his soul just in time; I performed the fixing spell, like you asked", she continued, adding; "I also checked you after I delivered the boys, he's still inside you, and he seems to be safe. I haven't seen or heard any sign of Ginny", she said, though the girl was snivelling so much that she had great trouble speaking; "Topsy apparated back very briefly, to let you know that she had to look after Seamus, and …" "Miss Granger …" Severus began to say, looking at Potter's body, and wondering whether that soul taking he was supposed to have done was responsible for his own strange condition. Potter … is dead, he thought, I have failed Lily, and I have failed Dumbledore …"Sir?" It was Miss Granger again, "Please take this potion, it's philtre of recall", she explained, "When I studied the spell, the book mentioned that sometimes the taker had trouble coming back to reality after performing it", adding, "I also checked up on this potion, it won't hurt Harry or Eileen, they'll be perfectly safe". She thrust a wooden goblet at him, filled with a dark green, oily looking liquid. It smelled like something between chocolate and house dust. He accepted the proffered cup. "Who is this Eileen person you mentioned, by the way?" He asked her, pausing with the goblet half way to his mouth, "You don't mean my mother, I hope", he added, before raising it to his lips, and downing the contents in one swallow. "Eileen is the name you've just given to the child that you're carrying", Miss Granger said, as everything came flooding back to Severus. "And I'm Madam Weasley now", she added, "I married Ron not long after the war finished …" "I know", Severus said, "Madam Weasley, thank you for having the presence of mind to give me that potion". She blushed slightly at the compliment, but then had to wipe more tears from her eyes. Severus got up, feeling drained, heavy and unnaturally old after his recent experience. Eileen seemed to have calmed down somewhat … he wondered what it was that possessed him to give her his own mother's name … he looked at Harry's body, now covered by the blanket. Madam Weasley said that his soul was safe, but Severus would check that himself, as soon as he was alone. It was not that he didn't trust her; so much as he needed to see it for himself. He walked over to where the crib was, and took his first look at Oliver and Remus. Harry's sons…Lily's grandchildren. They both were sleeping peacefully under the hideous kitten-pattern blanket they shared. Neither infant was bald (like Seamus … when the Weasleys brought him to show to Dumbledore), but both were topped with an identical shock of thick, black hair. They seemed smallish to Severus, though his experience with babies was currently so limited, that he wasn't sure of that assessment of them. Lily, he thought, I hope you can see this as well, wherever you are. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but as he finished that last thought, one of them opened his puffy, thick-lidded eyes for a moment. Severus had heard somewhere that all baby's eyes were either brown or blue. Oliver's eyes - he knew which one it was, from a nametag Madam Granger had fastened to his clothes – were a definite, and unusually bright, green … A low shaft of sunlight suddenly fell through an east window, filling the room with it's yellowed light. He must have been out for some time; it was much later in the morning than he'd thought. He was tired, hungry, and in need of using the lavatory again. He looked again at Harry's children, and heard Madam Granger enter the room. "I just received an owl from Ron", she said, "He's back at The Burrow with Topsy, he says that Ginny will be back from the Ministry soon. He'll floo me when she does, so we can tell her together". Severus walked silently over to the body under the blanket, lifting back a corner to look at his face. It didn't look real to him, more like a bizarre dead statue of flesh, than the remains of the wizard who once flew at him on a broomstick, spied on his worst memories, defied him so often … looking at the body, Harry did not feel dead to him. Maybe, in the circumstances, that was a promising sign. Well then, boy, he thought, carefully putting the blanket back over the body. When the time comes, you will probably know almost everything about me, much more than what you glimpsed in that pensieve back then. Did you ever manage to find out, as I did, an unusual little side effect of the procedure? You never were fond enough of studying, Harry - I must call you that from now on, since you are going to become my son … he mused, feeling a little awkward at the idea, but if you had looked, he thought again, you would have learned that every single person who had been resurrected in this way had been born a Legilimens. You are going to learn a lot more about me on your way back to the world … Harry Snape, Severus thought, and much of it you may not find comfortable with knowing. But I hope, this time, you will at least try to understand … Madam Weasley was still in the room, waiting for Severus to answer her. He said to her "I expect there may be trouble from the Ministry over this, remind your husband, Ginerva, and everyone else who is with us to keep to the alibi. I believe we can trust Madam Malfoy, though Draco will need to be watched", "Yes, sir" she replied, adding; "You will need to go to the hiding place soon", "Of course" Severus said, "But I'll need to get something to eat, before I can rest". He looked again at the twins. "Harry did well, considering the circumstances of their birth", he said, ignoring Madam Weasley's look of surprise, he added; "He should be proud, their grandmother would have been". Looking back to her, he made an educated guess at the reason for surprise, saying; "And it is perfectly in order for me to call Harry by that name now, since he is not exactly going to be a Potter anymore". Hermione Weasley nodded, unable to speak again, since the need to cry had overtaken her again. Severus did not cry, could not cry. It was he; after all, who was now keeping Harry's soul … what point was there in mourning a mere empty body, when the person it used to contain was still with him? He hoped the others would come to accept this fact. Madam Weasley might, though for the moment, she was keeping herself busy, trying to distract herself from her grief. She fussed over Harry's sons while Severus attended to the call of nature, and then to his hunger. As soon as she was finished, she escorted him to the hideout, where he lay himself down on the mattress, grateful for a chance at some sleep. It was not long after, that Topsy returned, with news of Ginny's return. The House Elf looked after Remus and Oliver, while Madam Weasley flooed back to help her husband break the news to Ginny. Not long after that, the sitting room at Severus's house filled up with guests, as Ginny and Hermione, along with the Longbottoms and most of the surviving Weasleys, flooed or apparated in. Dumbledore rushed over from a meeting to join the solemn gathering, along with Topsy, Dobby, and two more House Elves from Hogwarts. Pansy sent her apologies via Everard, who had visited her in secret; She was recovering from the births that same night of her two daughters, and was in the mood to sympathise with Harry's plight. She asked when they were intending to resume the resistance plan. Nobody woke Severus, all agreeing that he had earned his rest. Dumbledore promised that he and the other paintings would search for a better hiding place, since he was likely to need one soon. The two new House Elves would help him. Later, when the meeting was over, Hermione would send Hedwig, Harry's old message owl, to the Ministry, with a formal report of the death of her owner. It would have been his twenty-third birthday.
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