Chapter Text
Severus Snape wanted a baby.
The desire had been creeping up on him slowly over time.
At forty it had been the unbidden thought, popping directly and unexpectedly into his mind, that the small room at the end of the hall on the first floor of his house was the right size for a nursery.
Forty-three and brewing a potion, his imagination had slyly presented the image of a small girl with black hair like his, standing next to him and watching him stir. He realised, with a pang, that it was something he was unlikely to experience.
By forty-seven the thoughts were more intrusive.
Gathering ingredients he wondered what it would be like to explain to someone the best places to find the most potent shrivelfig. And how to identify whether the white spots on dittany leaves were enhancing or inhibiting. His imagination supplied a lanky boy with his unfortunate nose, who held his hand as they walked to the edge of the forest.
He sat in front of his fire and thought it would be nice to have someone snuggled up on his lap, pointing at the pictures in his book as rain tapped against the windowpanes. And the bakery that had opened down the road had gingerbread faces now. He could easily buy the one with the chocolate bud eyes and liquorice hair and they would laugh at how close the resemblance was.
By forty-eight, Severus began to research options. He knew how the basic process worked, obviously. Insert Tab A into Slot B with some attention paid to Tab C if required. That was no issue. He had a Tab A. It was functional. He even had good methodology around Tab C if the right person came along.
However, the most commonly used option to produce a child—finding a woman who was heterosexual and willing to combine any of their respective tabs and slots— was not so easy. That had a lot to do with the fact that he wasn’t actually very nice, people in general were irritating, and most of them pissed him off after ten minutes of conversation. Severus went on a few dates, and there were tab moments, but statistically speaking he needed someone to stick around for more than one occasion. And also, to be blunt, be equally interested in promulgating their combined genetic offerings.
The next option was adoption, which was basically impossible for a single man of his age and reputation. The only possibility that remained was surrogacy. It was his last chance. He needed to find a woman who was happy to have his baby, hand over parental rights with a smile and a wave, who was also bringing some useful genes to the baby-making party. Intelligence, obviously. Magical ability was desirable but not essential. Appearance was not really a consideration. Glass houses and all that.
Severus pored over his address book, dug through Hogwarts alumni records and even tried casually asking acquaintances if they knew anyone who might consider it. No one did.
Except... there was someone. Someone right under his nose that he hadn’t even considered. It was three days after his forty-ninth birthday that he took the plunge.
“I want to be a father,” he said.
The woman didn’t raise her head but put her pastie down on a plate to turn the page of the book she was reading. There was a smear of tomato sauce on the back of her wrist.
“Of course you do,” Hermione Granger said. “But you’ll never get further in your research if you continue to take on projects. Honestly, your dogged determination to be a grumpy old hermit will be your undoing.”
“No, not further. I said father. I want to have a child,” Severus said.
Hermione looked up this time. She had tomato sauce on the side of her mouth. Two pencils were stuck in her hair.
“What?” she asked. “Have you been drinking?”
He felt a warm feeling creep up his neck, and he cleared his throat nervously.
“No. I want to have a child. And I would like you to be the mother,” he blurted out.
“You have been drinking,” Hermione said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not being ridiculous. Wanting to procreate is a completely understandable biological urge,” he argued.
“Sure. But this is not an urge I have. In fact, I have the opposite urge. And that urge wants me to be as far away from children as possible. For my survival. The survival of my mental health.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to have to raise the child,” Severus said. “I would look after everything. ”
“As flattered as I am to be asked to be a rent-a-womb, on this occasion I shall graciously decline,” Hermione said. She returned her attention to the book and took an enormous bite of the pastie. Severus noticed idly that she made annoying smacking noises with her mouth when she chewed, and all the fingernails on her hands were bitten, almost to the quick.
“It’s not just the current vacancy status of your womb that prompted me to ask you,” Severus said. “You are in perfect health. You are intelligent. You don’t have any obvious genetic defects.”
Hermione barked a laugh, projecting pieces of pastry onto the table. “Oh my god, Severus! Only you would think any of that would be a convincing argument to the prospective mother of your child. You really are a bizarre human being.”
Severus sighed. This was obviously a big fat bust. It was back to the lonely old drawing board.
“Would you like to compliment me on my lung capacity? Perhaps I could open my mouth and you could get a good look at my teeth,” Hermione said sarcastically.
“Teeth are not an issue I am concerned with,” Severus said grimly, making sure his lips were concealing his own disastrous dental examples.
“And what about if the child inherited my insufferableness? Or my hayfever. Or worst of all, my hair? There’s no going back to brushes if that happens,” Hermione said.
“I can’t imagine I’d dislike any part of you that was reflected in our child,” Severus said truthfully. “You’re one of the few people I can stand to be around for any length of time.”
Hermione blinked twice and stopped talking. She put down the pastie and frowned at him. The minutes ticked by agonisingly as she studied him thoughtfully.
“My research would suffer,” she finally said. “Not to mention the stress and strain that pregnancy would bring.”
“I’ll cover all your medical expenses of course. And brew special potions that will reduce any long-term negative impact of the pregnancy on your body,” Severus said.
“Why me? What about whatshername…um…Genevieve?” Hermione asked.
“We aren’t together,” Severus said. He was slightly annoyed that Hermione had remembered Genevieve. He had always believed she half-listened to anything he said in their shared laboratory space. Now and then he had mentioned updates about his personal life but had felt confident that it had all gone in one ear and out the other. Apparently not.
“I didn’t know that. Sorry,” Hermione shrugged. “To be honest, she had a weird way of flaring her nostrils when she talked.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Severus said dryly, covering for the fact that he had noticed and it had driven him absolutely up the wall.
“Beyond me being intelligent and not melting into primordial ooze in front of your very eyes, what else?” Hermione challenged.
“I don’t feel terrified about being irrevocably linked to you through this child for the rest of my life,” Severus said.
Hermione’s frown deepened somewhat. “That’s comforting.”
“I think you’re slightly less imbecilic than most anyone I have met,” Severus said.
“You charmer,” Hermione scoffed.
“I have a deep respect for you,” Severus said. “And you respect me, I think. Two people that respect each other? That’s more than a lot of children get.”
The frown’s furrow was now cataclysmic.
“Whether I’m there or not it would still be my child. How can I trust you to be a good father?” Hermione asked.
Severus shrugged. “You can’t. I'm not sure I even know what a good father is supposed to be. But I do know what a bad one is, and will do everything in my power not to be that.”
Severus watched as Hermione repeated her double-blink experiment. She rubbed her palms across her face and then put them on her lap. The sauce had been smeared away from the corner of her mouth up onto her cheek. Finally, just as Severus was about to pick up his plate and leave, she crossed her arms over the thick woollen sweater she was wearing and blew out a long breath.
“During the gestation period,” Severus blurted out, “I’ll put all my projects on hold and work as your assistant. That way your current research won’t be impacted.”
Hermione’s face turned from thoughtful to calculating, then to cheerful in an instant.
“Alright. I’ll do it,” she said.
“What?” Severus asked, excitement rising in his chest.
“I’ll have your baby. So. What’s your plan? Are we going to…” she made an odd little waving motion between their respective bodies.
The heat on his neck came back with a vengeance and rushed up into his face. “No! No. There would be no need for…er…intercourse. There are insemination spells,” he said, flustered by the turn of the conversation.
“That’s very like you to take the only fun part out of the deal,” she said, but when he looked at her sharply she grinned at him and he relaxed.
Ah. A joke. But still…maybe she would have? Never mind.
“My preference would be to move reasonably quickly. But, of course, it would be up to you,” Severus said.
“You’re really keen,” said Hermione. “I can’t imagine why. Children are ghastly. Harry has two and they are either screaming or expelling things from any number of orifices at any time of the day or night.”
“You’d be surprised how terrible most parents are at being parents,” Severus said in a conspiratorial tone. “I met a considerable number if you recall. So I have a sample size I’m confident from which to draw an empirically sound assessment.”
“Hmmmmm,” said Hermione. “So you predict you’ll be able to handle an infant.”
“Hermione. I am ready. I’m nearly fifty. This is my last chance,” Severus said. “I managed to keep Potter alive, didn’t I? And I can only assume a newborn isn’t always attempting to put itself in mortal danger.”
She sniggered somewhat. “Maybe a newborn is fine, but James is always endangering himself. At least that’s the impression Harry gives me.”
“You know how much I enjoy our Potter discussions,” Severus said, rolling his eyes.
Hermione shrugged and started to stack the books she had brought. “Alright. And what can I tell people?”
“The truth. A lie. Whatever you want,” he said.
“I think I’ll just tell people to mind their own business,” Hermione said.
He laughed. “Of course.”
“So while I’m pregnant you’ll be my research assistant?” Hermione asked as she picked up her books.
“Yes,” he said. “That is the agreement.”
“Well let’s get this spell happening! I’ve got a lot of work for you to get started on,” she said with a grin.