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Al sat fidgeting in his seat in the quiet sitting room. It was rather plain; though not shocking considering the two people who lived in this home. Aunt Hermione would listen; she always seemed to have an open mind and heart. Maybe that was how Hermione ended up with Severus, the man who he was named after, much to both their dismay.
It wasn’t that Al hated the man far from it, but it was that Harry had done it without asking the man if he wanted his name to carry on, and Al being the only Slytherin Potter in the last hundred years already raised enough eyebrows. The name only added to that.
Back before he even understood anything about the war some stupid wanker had walked up to him when Al was six and said with not a drop of shame, “James Potter is rolling in his grave at your existence.”
His father got into between the man and his child hissing, “go find someone who cares Dean and leave my son out of your grudge.”
Harry and Albus Severus might not see eye to eye on everything, but they would always be father and son. And it was Hermione Snape’s sitting room he sat in staring at the cup of tea before him.
“Sorry, Al I didn’t mean for that firecall to take so long, but what do you want to talk about?” Hermione asked, tucking a springy curl behind her ear.
“How did you know you loved uncle Severus?” Al said, staring down at the cream carpet under his feet.
“Well to be truthful, we just kept running into each other. Neither of us realised it until we couldn’t imagine life without one another,” she mused. “But, why are you asking? Surely I am not the best person to talk to about this.”
Al tugged sharply at his wild curls, only making them more untamed.
“I am asking you because I think I love Scorpius,” he mumbled, hoping that Hermione would not actually hear him. “And he’s a Slytherin you know, and my dad surely wouldn’t understand.”
Albus felt his ears heat up as he said it.
“I will not say anything unkind about you father,” Hermione remarked, setting down her cup of tea, her hand shaking slightly as she did so. “He’s Harry, and I love him dearly.”
“Even if he’s as dim-witted as a stack of bricks?” Al laughed.
“That would be being kind,” Severus drawled as he walked into the room. Sitting down next to Hermione. “Potter, do you love him? You would know if you do.”
“I think so?” Al said as more of a question than anything.
“Well figure it out before you say something to him. Scorpius has been through too much for I think so . ”
Hermione poked her husband sharply in the side.
“Well now I know where Rose gets her barbed tongue from,” she said. “Though, Al, Severus is right even if he isn’t going about it the right way.”
The man rolled his coal-black eyes at his wife. His spindly potion-stained fingers were reaching to brush across her cheek and kissing her forehead softly, holding the woman tightly.
“Son, let me be rather blunt, Scorpius doesn’t need you to save him. Not any more than I needed Hermione to save me,” Severus said softly. “But he needs you to love him as he is, and be there for him, truly there for him. I think you have already done that. Loving someone isn’t much different than being someone’s friend, which you both know very well.”
“Thank you, you two, but I think I should…”
“Be best getting back to work?” Hermione asked, smiling as she did so. “Pansy will not mind, teaching a Potter to be a potion’s master has only done her good when it comes to business. But, yes, you should be. Have a good day, Al, and tell Scorpius hello next time you see him.”
“Bye, Aunt Hermione,” he said. “And you too Uncle Severus.”
Hermione sighed softly, “is there any hope for them?”
“I think so,” Severus murmured. “Far more than a lot of people. He already loves the boy, and that’s what matters most, the rest its window dressing.”
Hermione turned to face the man, “you know, window dressings are nice too, right?”
“Yes, I do, and happen to love showing you all of them, but like Mr. Potter, I have to get back to work,” he sighed, standing up.
There were a lot of things Hermione couldn’t exactly put into words, and that was okay. Maybe years later she would be there, for Al’s wedding, thinking back to the silly conversation over tea, and trying to teach a teenager the meaning of love.