Hermione smiled at the rather shy, homely, and sullen-looking Eileen Prince when she entered Severus' classroom.

While she continued her tutoring sessions she had not yet been granted her own classroom for them. This being her fourteenth year, she contented herself with the fact that she wasn't going to get one. It wasn't as if there weren't unused rooms at Hogwarts. She could have easily commandeered one.

Truthfully, she didn't mind using Severus'. It was familiar since it was the same as where they came from and even fifteen years in this, familiarity was nice. This was home now, and she didn't regret that for a minute. She wasn't sure where she saw herself if she'd stayed in 1996, but feeling this … content from essentially being domestic had not been a consideration. She hadn't been forced to have Charlotte, Philip, or Graham. She really never would have thought she had the ability to love so much. Who would think someone who had virtually no friends for most of her life could?

And the students? They were as much her kids really. There were a few, like Thomas, who didn't come to her tutoring sessions, but she was still their librarian. She considered it a compliment that so many did. And weren't afraid to come back after their first session. Or that they weren't afraid to ask her where this or that was in the library. She was exact as Irma was, but not quite as strict. Yes, books were to be treated with respect, but they were to be enjoyed and used as well. However small, she was helping to make a difference in every student who entered the doors of Hogwarts.

Severus didn't seem to mind her occupying his classroom a couple of hours each weeknight evening. She'd had a few weekend sessions, too. Those had been geared toward fifth and seventh years who wanted extra time for OWLs or NEWTs. He'd claimed more than once that without spying in the mix, things like grading didn't cut into his time nearly as much as they had once upon a time.

She also thought it helped the students see the dungeons as less scary. So she hadn't pushed hard for one of her own. It wouldn't be difficult to have one made, she knew. She also knew if Severus had asked for a room for her, it likely would have been taken care of without pomp or circumstance.

Thomas had not used her tutoring services to this point. No surprise. No surprise either that neither she nor Severus had heard the hint of him needing them. He was more than halfway through the first term of his fourth year. To this point he seemed to be a model student. No reports of anything out of the ordinary as far as mischief. He even had friends. More than either Hermione or Severus had ever had (both admitted to being a bit jealous that he seemed to make them so easily).

Friends that didn't turn their backs on him, or accuse him of being evil, when it was learned last school year that he was a Parselmouth. (Severus and Hermione both knew he was already, of course. They'd thought during their visit to the Bronx Zoo a few years ago he might find out, but nothing had happened when they'd toured the snakes. Neither thought it necessary to push the knowledge of him having that skill.)

All of that to say, she was immensely surprised to see this witch, who was in reality her mother-in-law, here. She kept to herself, did her schoolwork sufficiently thus far from what Severus told her, and Hermione had never seen her here before tonight. Hermione would have remembered. She had seen her in the library, of course. Much like her son, she was somewhat of a loner who seemed fond of books and the knowledge they gave her. She talked to her fellow Slytherins, but that was about it.

"Hello, Miss Prince. You can take a seat anywhere," she said.

She blushed then and Hermione wondered what that was about. "Professor Prins is expecting me, Madam Prins."

Ah. She wasn't here for her tutoring session and was embarrassed others might think so. Yes, Severus would likely be, too. (Hermione thought she would be as well.)

"Oh, of course," she said.

She hoped she was hiding her curiosity sufficiently. To say she was surprised that he was meeting privately with his mum was an understatement. She'd been here for two months and he hadn't really shown any sign that it even affected him that she was in the same building with him for the first time in decades. Obviously, this wasn't the witch he'd known. She was sure it did, he just wasn't good at expressing such things even fifteen years into a relationship with her.

And, as curious as she was, she wasn't going to push on this. She knew better. She imagined there was a whirlwind of emotions involved with seeing a side of his mother that he not only never saw but never imagined knowing. She couldn't imagine what it must be like to see her before he'd been born, nearly twenty years before. To realize that she was a person, a girl, who laughed with her fellow Slytherins like any other student. She didn't know she was going to marry a muggle or become a mum to someone she should have done better for. These were things children just didn't think about with regard to their parents. They were never children or students. They were Mum and Dad. Adults who worked and knew better.

"He's in his lab, but let me get him."

She stood then from her - well his really - desk, looking out at the students who were already working on their assignments to ensure no one would need her immediately. It seemed not. That was good.

She went to Severus' lab where Charlotte, Philip, and Graham were happily watching their father "make magic". The two foster children they'd taken in who were not already students at Hogwarts were in here as well. That was interesting, and she took that as a good sign. They were still adjusting to life with the Prins', and especially a life calling Hogwarts home more or less.

Unlike most other magic, they could physically see what Daddy (or their foster father in the case of the Harrison boys) was doing with the various potion ingredients. And, just as he had with Thomas, he told them each and every step and why it was done that way. Charlotte and her foster brother Benedict, at eight, seemed just as entranced by it as Thomas had been. Philip and his foster brother Randall, at five, found Severus' voice enjoyable to listen to whether it was reading a storybook or talking about potions, but it was clear neither boy was as enthralled as Thomas and Charlotte by their father's potion making. Graham at just shy of three had no opinion beyond being happy his dad was talking to him.

"Madam Wife," he said without looking up from his station.

He never did. Some might think he had eyes on the back or top of his head. She knew, though, that he felt his wards when she (or anyone) entered any of his areas. "Is there a shortage of students taking advantage of your kindness this evening so that you have time to come see us?"

"Mummy," Charlotte said and ran to her, hugging her tightly around her thighs. Philip followed suit. Graham joined in, too. Benedict and Randall both said hello to her. They weren't quite as open with hugs. Not unexpected, Severus and Hermione both knew to be patient with them. She was pretty sure the four Harrison boys were waiting for them to change their mind about taking them all in.

They'd taken them in just as the last school year ended. No one had known that the four brothers were going to be separated until the oldest, Cole, let it slip. Hermione had stepped in with Headmaster Dippett, insisting they take the four of them in until a permanent home could be found. The four boys liked it well enough at the Prins home, so they were pretty much theirs now. She loved them. All of them. She didn't know the Harrisons very well, but she was learning to love them. And they were so appreciative of being kept together that they made it rather easy. She'd really never stopped to consider if she'd have kids or anything before coming here. Even the few years after Thomas before they had Charlotte, she hadn't thought much of it. Now that she had them, though. Well, she could understand why Molly had seven of them.

Severus had been the voice of reason when she first approached him about taking the Harrisons in. She knew he wasn't opposed necessarily, but he had to give voice to the facts.

"There are four of them, Marie Rose. That would give us eight mouths to feed. Seven growing boys. "

Thomas and Philip were always hungry. It was too early to say that about Graham, as he was only two and a half. It was safe to assume he would be just as bottomless as his brothers.

Obviously, they were here with them so they'd agreed to take them in. Hermione was pretty sure he didn't regret saying yes.

"Think of four brothers possibly never seeing one another again, Severus, after what they've already been through. And you know in this day and age that's a possibility if they're separated now."

That being the loss of both parents in a very short time span. She was pretty sure that was when he'd come to her way of thinking. They had the room in their home. They had the land to allow them to play and work. They had children around their age, so they'd be around other children. They had hearts that clearly wanted to give. And Severus very much had a heart. He was just selective about who he let see it. The Harrisons were now included in those privileged enough to be allowed in.

She could also certainly understand why some chose to have only one - or none - some days, too, truthfully. Four extra children suddenly living with them over the summer led to some … disagreements to say the least. Some mornings over the summer, the kitchen and breakfast table was utter chaos.

It was Hermione's chaos, though, and she could tell from the beginning of the summer to the end when Thomas and Cole were preparing to return to Hogwarts with Jackson joining them for his first year that they were making a difference in these boys' lives already. All four of them knew that it was okay to miss their mum and dad yet still go on. It made all the chaos worth it in her opinion.

"You have a student waiting to see you," she said, smoothing down the hair of her daughter and each of her sons.

"Oh, yes," he said with a nod, looking up finally and meeting her gaze.

He looked a little … bashful if she wasn't mistaken which was a very odd look on her husband's face. She knew he saw the question there. He'd told her what year to expect his mum. Albus more than likely knew who Eileen Prince was, too, for that matter. To this point no one had questioned there being Prinses and Princes here. At least not that Hermione was aware of anyway.

"Charlotte, Benedict. Please take your brothers back to our rooms. I'm going to be working with a student and you cannot be in here alone unsupervised."

"Yes, Sir," Charlotte said, grabbing Graham by the wrist gently and taking him out the other way that led to their rooms with Philip and the Harrison boys following. They were coming to know the rules about being in here, too. The Harrisons were muggleborn so it was a whole new world for Benedict and Randall. They were certainly seeing things Cole and Jackson hadn't, and perhaps wouldn't. Or at least not as often.

"Erik," she said, sounding more cautious than she meant to once they were alone. She wasn't questioning him exactly. She'd never do that. He was aware of that fact, too.

He was quiet as he prepared his lab table to be gone for a bit. He hadn't looked at her since the children left the room.

"Did you know that my mother had a potions book that I used while I was a student here?"

She had to strain to hear him as this was said rather softly and with his back to her. That meant he didn't want her to see his face. To see his eyes.

"No," she said. He had never told her that.

"She's quite good…"

"STS, you cannot…"

He turned then to face her, gifting her with an almost shy smile. And then he shrugged those strong, capable shoulders that she'd leaned on and slept against for years now.

"I know that I cannot, but she had questions and wanted to try making a potion again as her first attempt didn't turn out the way it was supposed to. She seemed to understand, without my saying what went wrong, where she'd erred." He shrugged again. There was that bashful look once more, which she had to say she liked on him. Who knew his mum of all people would make him shy? "I am her professor. What am I supposed to do, Marie?"

She walked up to him and hugged him, resting her head against his chest for a moment to hear the steady beat of his heart. A heartbeat that all four of their children, and she, found comforting. Strong. Real. All of their children had slept on top of him on the sofa over the years. Even young Randall, at five, curled up with him a time or two over the summer.

There was one evening, Severus, Philip, Randall, and Graham stayed up a little later than the rest of the household to listen to a radio show. She'd come downstairs when it got really late to see all four of them under blankets on the floor in front of the radio. It had made her heart swell at the sight. It was one of those moments she wished she had a camera yet was glad she didn't. He would have been embarrassed to have his picture taken. She hugged him extra tight for a second before letting go and drawing away from him. "Exactly what you're doing. I would expect no less from you. I love you."

"No more than I love you."

"I'll send her in then?"

"No, I'll come out with you. She shouldn't be in here no matter who she is. Though she would likely find it fascinating and enjoy a tour of my inner sanctum very much. Just like another witch I knew at that age."

She shook her head. He wasn't wrong. "Well, I still find your inner sanctum fascinating so."

"That is exceptionally good to know, especially since you and the memories you have helped me create here are part of the reason I'm so fond of it myself."

That first Valentine's Day and the day she'd told him about being pregnant with Charlotte were not the only times they'd been intimate in this lab. She was more than happy to give him as many good memories to offset the prior bad ones as she could. Fifteen years into this, she thought she'd done a pretty good job of that so far. She wanted to make those first thirty-six seem like nothing but a bad dream, though, so she wasn't done yet.

Her only regret? She'd never get to chase the Spinner's End memories away. She hoped their home and the memories they'd created there were sufficient because there was nothing she could do about it.

He walked behind her to the classroom.

"Miss Prince," he said. "We will work over here so as not to disrupt my wife's session."

That he didn't want to disrupt her session in his classroom was a bit amusing. She couldn't help but wonder what Harry and Ron would think of such a statement coming from him. Especially with no sarcasm or disdain in his voice.

Hermione watched more attentively than was probably necessary as Severus assisted his mum with whatever potion she'd been working on in class that she wanted help with. She wasn't sure what her class had brewed today and she couldn't see the ingredients well enough to know from that. It was sweet as he told her to set her hands over his while he cut so that she could feel how his hands moved. He'd done this for her, too, actually. And it had helped.

It was something that as her potions professor he wouldn't have ever done. She smirked a bit at the idea of him doing something like that with Neville. Her friend likely would have passed out there and then. She'd like to think Neville would like these changes in Severus, and wouldn't find him quite so scary anymore.

Eileen tried again and he nodded, so evidently that little bit of help was all that she needed. Potions really were a fascinating thing. Even the way you cut or stirred something could have an effect on the outcome. A more confident Eileen went onto the next step.

She took notice of him then.

The man.

Her man.

Over fifteen years with him and she still felt rather … possessive of him. That feeling was reciprocated, so she didn't feel odd about it, even if it was baffling. She'd never expected to feel anything like this. Should it still be this intense this far into it and after four children together?

The tenseness in his shoulders, the ramrod straightness of his back, and his hand clasping his other hand's wrist tightly at the base of his spine as he watched his eleven year old mum work on a potion that he was instructing her on making. A very similar pose that she'd observed in him the night they brought Thomas home. And other times over the years when he'd wanted to appear … aloof, even if internally he was feeling anything but.

Sixteen years ago, Professor Severus Snape would never have allowed a student this opportunity. To redo a potion. It was one of the … many differences in him she tried to encourage and support. It was clearly making a difference, too, as instead of being feared and gossiped about negatively, he was liked and respected. She paid attention as her position as librarian allowed her to. She told him what students said about all of the professors, so that he could offer other professors the ability to improve, too. (They'd never take constructive criticism from her, a librarian and a witch. They would, however, take it from their contemporary. Their peer.)

He was obviously nervous. Yet he wanted to help this woman. His mum. Her heart ached for him that he had to restrain himself. To appear objective and unbiased, as if she was any other student. She was sure there were things he'd like to learn about this woman, but he couldn't because he had to avoid appearing as if he favoured her.

He was afraid of altering anything that could result in, well, no him in their future. Hermione had tried to assure him that she didn't think Eileen's years at Hogwarts had anything to do with what happened to lead her to Severus' father.

He was born in January 1960, which meant she was pregnant sometime around the end of March or beginning of April 1959, assuming he was to term. He didn't know such a thing, and she had found nothing in her research about him that said he was premature or anything. (Not that she'd been looking for such a thing.) She'd graduated from Hogwarts in June 1948. That left possibly ten full years for her to find her way to Tobias Snape. Severus had not heard stories of his parents trying for children for years before him and having difficulties. So that led him to believe they tried and had him. Being a child born and raised in the Depression era, one child - a boy child - would have perhaps been enough for his father. Hermione knew Severus questioned whether his father even wanted one child.

Eileen was a sullen, rather moody, and difficult girl. Difficult in that she was almost unhealthily shy. Hermione had no idea how she had been sorted into Slytherin, as she outwardly seemed to have none of the traits common among the snakes' house. It also made her wonder how she'd gotten close enough to Tobias Snape to marry him let alone have a child with him.

As to Severus' being here.

Hermione imagined her home life was not overly pleasant and something happened in her adult life that led her to the muggle world to ‘get away', and the rest resulted in Severus being here today. So she truly didn't think Hogwarts had anything to do with it. He heard her argument and knew he found it valid, but the fear was still there.

"Madam Prins," Thomas' friend Antonia asked at her desk, drawing her focus away from her husband. And her mother-in-law. The witch who was her children's grandmother. They got some of their genes, their traits, from this witch.

Odd to think.

It was rare to be able to watch him unaware in this fashion. It was … nice. She liked knowing that even with his back to her she could gauge his mood. It was especially nice knowing that she was the only one familiar enough with him to know these things. Thomas maybe by now closing in on fifteen.

Proof this wizard was hers. That he let her in despite the odds and their circumstances. There was nothing saying this had to become a true friendship and marriage.

And they were friends.

He could have come here and been difficult. Their first outing when he'd argued with her about the hat she'd chosen to wear. She thought that was what he was going to do. Something had shifted in that moment, though. She stood her ground, let him know that she wasn't going to let him push her around. He seemed to decide then that he would try. She made that decision when she committed to coming here, but she understood why it took him longer to get there.

She gave another smirk at the idea of Neville Longbottom seeing Severus Snape like this. She had to stifle a giggle at the very idea. There was nothing happening here currently that warranted her laughter. Shaking her head a bit she switched her attention to the witch who was seeking her help.

"Yes, Miss Potter," she said.

She'd asked Severus if Antonia was a relative of Harry's grandfather, but he couldn't say for certain. Expecting him to be proficient in the Potter family tree was probably a little much she realized.

"Does this sound okay?"

Hermione took the offered piece of parchment and read. Twelve inches exactly, writing not too large as if attempting to write less than necessary to fill up the page. Antonia was overall a good student Hermione had come to learn.

"Much improved," she said, handing the paper back.

She never wrote the papers for them or anything, but she would offer assistance if she could. They'd never learn, she knew now, if she did the work for them. When she got the idea for these tutoring sessions, Severus had given her a pointed opinion on how she could tailor them to aid students. Making them do the work themselves was tops of that list. She could appreciate now that she hadn't done her classmates favours by answering questions all of the time.

There were times she wished she could have those first few years back. To do it differently with the knowledge she had now. She imagined she wasn't the only one who had such a wish.

Eventually, the classroom was devoid of all but Hermione. Eileen had finished her time with Severus in under an hour. She'd left and he returned to his lab. She used her wand to put the chairs and everything back the way he liked it for his class.

"Are the hellions gone?"

She laughed softly.

Twenty years ago she would have thought he truly believed that. Hell, he probably did in their original time, but he didn't seem to now. He didn't let it show blatantly, but it was obvious he cared and wanted to help put good and productive wizards and witches into the world.

A world that they were hoping to make better with what they were doing with Thomas. She thought he rather liked having a hand in them becoming good and productive. That he had a hand in showing them how a woman could and should be treated.

"Yes, all clear."

"I do know that I cannot do anything more than teach her," he said after a few moments' silence between them. Hermione didn't mind the silence. She, truly, could watch him work for hours and not grow bored. She was pretty sure that would never change.

His lab was the only place they felt truly secure speaking candidly these days. Well, that and their bedroom. Neither had a portrait nor were house elves popping in and out of them.

"I'm not criticizing, but you know that Albus knows who she is and will be watching for any inkling of favouritism. Or I suppose unnecessary strictness."

"Yes."

More silence.

"How was your day otherwise?" she asked.

"Mostly the same. Thomas and Millicent seem to be getting … closer."

"Is that bad?"

She'd noticed that, too, of course, but she didn't think it was a bad thing. None of the history books she'd read about Tom Riddle suggested that he'd had a witch while at Hogwarts. Didn't that point to them making a difference? Him taking a different path was good, wasn't it?

He shrugged.

"I'm not sure. I'm glad that he seems to be able to overlook her apparently somewhat humble origins. We both know that was likely not the case originally. Obviously, as he wasn't in her house. It seems they are suited to one another but likely they wouldn't have gotten the opportunity to ascertain that originally. Especially based on their original houses."

Little was known about Millicent Zonnger. She was only mentioned in her 1991 copy of Hogwarts: A History for her time as a student. She had been Ravenclaw originally, so that hadn't changed (not unexpected). The book would be miles long if it went into detail about every witch and wizard that stepped through Hogwarts' doors. She knew this. So, she took it to mean Millicent probably led a quiet life originally. Neither a husband nor descendants had been mentioned. So neither of them had to feel bad that they were hoping for her to lean toward Thomas at the price of someone else not getting a wife.

"Yes, and I've noticed that, too," Hermione said.

"It pleases me, because I never got that. So that right there tells me we've done something right with him."

"Of course we have, Erik."

More silence. He was clearly … thinking tonight. He was always thinking, but assisting his mother outside of class probably had him more contemplative than usual.

"Is anyone being kind to Myrtle?"

"Not that I can tell. I mean, I try to be," she said with a shrug. It wasn't the same as her classmates being kind. She knew that. "I watch for any shenanigans in the library. That's really the only place I have absolute authority."

"I'm sure you are, and you are staff, Marie. You have authority everywhere. In fact, I'd say you're one of the few who would have absolute authority, as you see the students as they usually are, outside of the classroom, to know if they are miscreants or not. You have eyes and ears that those of us stuck with them in classrooms do not."

"Yes, well, I still know my limits and tread lightly. I prefer to be liked, seen as fair so that students continue coming to me for assistance rather than making them run scared from the sight of me. However, I have heard that our son and Abraham have stood up to that Olive Hornby witch more than once about her tormenting and ill treatment of Myrtle."

"Good for him. Both of them," he said with a nod. His eyes echoed the fact he was proud to hear that was so.

They both grew quiet, realizing that was another good sign. Their son was standing up for someone that maybe he wasn't friendly with, but thought deserved to be treated with respect. They had tried to instill in him that all magical children had the right to a Hogwarts education, regardless of monetary means, gender, or blood status. This had to point to him paying attention to that. That was huge, and a good sign that maybe Myrtle wouldn't end up being a ghost, banished to Hogwarts for the rest of her days after all.

They couldn't keep an unreasonably close eye on Thomas as much as they might like to. It just wasn't possible, especially since he was not a Slytherin. Severus had him in potions class and observed his interactions with his fellow classmates there. He observed at mealtimes as well to see how he interacted with all in the Great Hall, not just Ravenclaws. He listened at staff meetings to know that their son had not as of yet come on anyone's radar as being a problem student. He was certain by now Albus would have noticed and said something. The other wizard knew that Thomas was the child in question they traveled seventy years into the past for. Albus was no fool either, so would know if his older self sent them back to change something there was a damned good, read catastrophic, reason for wanting to exact that change in such a way.

And he would know Thomas was involved somehow . Again, Albus wasn't stupid.

She paid attention whenever he was in the library. They both knew he would likely be on his best behaviour when in places they could observe him, but found it hopeful in no issues being reported by any of his teachers (or students). Going into this, his fourth year, they both took heart in that, and it was something that influenced their taking in the Harrisons. They knew it was next year, the end of his fifth year when they'd finally be able to truly breathe a little easier for the first time in over a decade.

Longer than that, really, but certainly for the first time since embarking on this trip to 1926.

Or have to entertain the notion of ending the life of a child they'd raised from the day he was born if Myrtle Warren ended up dead and the Chamber of Secrets was opened.

Not just raised either at this point. They cried with him when he cut his knee on the step to the chicken coop. Laughed with him when he'd flown on a broom for the first time by himself and said it made his stomach feel like it was flying, too. (Though that incident had scared the hell out of Hermione, and the feeling in her stomach was not from pleasure but fear no matter how much Severus assured her "the boy would be fine".) They'd taught him, played with him, and tried to teach him right from wrong. They'd loved him. Loved with all of their hearts, hoping that Albus was right and home, stability, and love would make a difference.

Lives, possibly the magical world, depended on them making a difference.

They'd done this for almost sixteen years now. They'd built their life around him (even before he was born), around his needs. Some might think that was foolish, but they had to, because they'd both known what he had the potential of becoming. And they made it a good life. They'd both been able to educate him, expose him to various things by way of traveling, and to offer him hope and security when he'd initially had none. Part of the reason she'd argued so staunchly to take in the Harrisons (aside from the obvious idea of keeping them together) was that she felt it would be good for Thomas to live with magical people he knew were muggleborns. That he could see how accepting and welcoming his parents were to a family in need. And their blood status hadn't mattered. That they were no less magical than he was.

Despite the differences in their current era, Hermione had very little to complain about. She didn't think Severus did either. Creature comforts were missed, sure, but there was a certain simplicity that they both enjoyed in things like Hermione's homemade Scrabble board.

They hadn't spoiled Thomas or their other children, but he'd never lacked for anything. They had family pets in addition to the livestock they owned. None, pets or livestock, had ever shown up hurt or dead for no reason. Severus and Hermione both knew that was something to look for. They'd debated about pets the first time Crookshanks was responsible for a litter of kittens with a stray they hadn't realized came around their property. (And, as far as they knew, had never left.) They decided it would be a good test, a gauge, to see if they were making a difference or not.

They'd traveled quite a bit over the years, both to magical and muggle areas. The fall before Thomas started Hogwarts, they'd gone as a family to see the New York Yankees beat the New York Giants in Game Five of the World Series. The names didn't mean anything to him then, but one day he'd be able to tell his children that he'd seen the likes of Joe DiMaggio, Mel Ott, and Lou Gehrig play a game their dad had grown fond of in person.

They (well she) taught him to ski, which he'd found to be almost as fun as flying. (And in some ways, she supposed it was similar to flying.) He'd seen Snow White as a new movie. While he'd really been too old for it, he sat through it because his little sister Charlotte wanted to see the princess. (Hermione had found it a bit endearing that even in 1938 girls still loved a story about a princess.)

To counteract the somewhat luxurious things they'd done with him, he had been taught to work and that while they had access to magic and could do wondrous things with it, hands-on was not a bad way to do things. Hermione reckoned that he could run the livestock portion of things at their home without her just fine these days. The crops and planning of those he would still need help with, but he could no doubt do that, too. He'd watched and asked questions for years while his mum planned out what and how much she would plant.

Neither went easy on him with his school work over the years either, for they knew he was smart enough that they wouldn't be doing him any favours letting him skate. They weren't fascists or overly militant, but they had never allowed him to breeze through or do less than what he was capable of.

They did not want to have to make that decision. Ever-present as it was in their minds, they were hoping to still have their oldest son when the 1942-43 school year drew to a close. They wanted to see him have a sixth year and turn seventeen without having committed a crime.

"Are you concerned Millicent is using him?" she asked.

"Are you?" he asked with a low chuckle.

She shrugged. It was a bit of a concern. Her family was known for being of a lower station in life even before the Depression. Hermione didn't care, but she hoped the witch wasn't out to use him to advance her position. She had to know by now that they did things on breaks that were maybe not extravagant but certainly nice. Gold diggers existed in the nineteen forties, too!

"He doesn't talk about himself much, I know that, but things are said. I'm sure even if he didn't tell anyone we went to Australia over the summer a staff member said something in front of a student who heard…"

"Yes, I'm aware of how it works." This was accompanied by another chuckle. She nodded her head a bit, realizing she was talking to someone who'd spent the past thirty years teaching. He knew exactly how kids in this age group talked.

He sighed, obviously thinking over his response to what she'd said.

"We're not giving the impression that we're going to be giving Rockefeller any competition, so no, I don't think she is. They're going to be fifteen, Marie. There's plenty to worry about without adding that into things, and a nice girl may be good for him."

She settled her hand over his wrist, squeezing lightly. "Is this experience talking?"

"It is," he said.

"If I haven't said it recently, I'm glad that you had her."

"I know that you are, and I'm grateful for the fact that you are not a jealous shrew of a woman who holds it over my head that there was ever the thought of anyone but you."

"Wait, there was?" she asked, cheekily.

"Petulance."

"At least I'm no longer insolent," she said, sticking her tongue out at him.

"I can grant you that."

"Begrudgingly," they both said and chuckled.

"Would you like to have dessert with your husband tonight?"

"I'd love to."

"Then let's go somewhere and see what we can find to satisfy that urge."

"Great. I'll go make sure Mintzy can see to the children for a while."

"I have come to see where I get my charming personality from," he said as she put her hand on the doorknob to leave his lab. The statement caused her to pause, but he said nothing else.

"Yes, well," she said, turning to face him. "Something tells me she, like you, wasn't very happy at home. I'm sorry that she wasn't able to change that for you, to give you a better homelife than she obviously had."

"And yet, it got me here with you," he shrugged. "You said yes to this crazy scheme of his despite my being an unkind, unemotional, and callous wizard. I'm still not sure why you did, what you saw that made you think we could do this together. You did, though. So something worked."

She smiled at that and ran to him, throwing her arms and legs around him and kissing him.

"Maybe we should see to dessert in bed instead," he murmured, moving to set her on the edge of his nearby table.

"Mm," she murmured, finding his ear and nipping at it. "Or we could take care of that kind of dessert now, go get some ice cream, and come back to see to a more … lengthy and satisfying version of it later."

"Twice in one night? Madam Prins, I'm shocked."

"I know. Scandalous."

"I've never shied away from a potential scandal," he murmured, waving his hand to remove their robes so he could do exactly that. She gasped, leaning back a bit and her breath hitched as he slid inside of her. Times like this he was very to the point, not that she minded. To the point Severus was still thorough. He'd more than make it up to her later. And fifteen years into this, well, spontaneous and to the point wasn't all bad. She bit her lip, sliding her hand between her legs and finding her clit.

"I love watching you do that," he said, eyes on her hand now.

She knew he did. They'd had some fun experimenting with voyeurism when she was recovering after having Charlotte. He'd been hesitant at first to even initiate touching her, believing even an orgasm might hurt or cause her discomfort. It obviously wasn't something they'd had to worry about after Thomas.

He'd quickly learned that was not the case, but he'd sat in his chair watching her play with and touch herself to completion more than once. He, as a result, had taken care of his own arousal that developed while watching her, knowing she was watching him just as closely as he was watching her. It was a toss up who was more aroused and who had liked it more. That had led to a very fun couple of weeks between them until he'd felt ready to have sex again. (His concern for causing her harm or discomfort was just one of the many things she loved about him.)

There was no hesitation in his wanting to watch her after Philip.

She came hard and fast, which was his intention and he wasn't too far behind her. She cast a cleansing charm on them both while he fixed their clothes and put his robe back on before helping her into hers.

"I just want to hug her and tell her she creates the most honourable man I've ever met," she said once they were put back together and presentable to get ice cream. "I know that I cannot, but I still want to."

"I know. I wish to ask and tell her many things myself, and this is only her first year. I'm sure the desire will only increase the older she gets and is closer to the woman I knew, but, as you say, I know that I cannot. There will come a day where she will recognize this face and then maybe she'll come talk to me."

"Maybe so," she said. "Do you think that's why Albus did it?"

"Did his play on words with our faux last name, you mean? It wouldn't surprise me, but I admit I do not know."

"He cared about you. He knew he couldn't give you your mum, he knew that you'd have to teach her knowing what was to come, but he gave her a way to figure it out if she's clever enough. She made you, so I suspect that she is."

He had started cutting back on the deaging potion a couple of years ago. She noticed subtle differences now, no one else would and would likely attribute it to the stresses of a serious job and the stress of the Depression and World War II more than likely. In addition to being Slytherin's head of house, he was now Dippet's Deputy Headmaster. He'd taken the position not necessarily wanting to, but knowing sooner or later Albus would have to be assigned to the headmaster position, and would need someone in his corner to aid that occurrence.

When he started cutting back he looked about the age he looked when he first took the potion. He was, in reality, closer to fifty now. She didn't care, and he knew by now that she did not. About five or six years ago he'd fretted over what she'd think when he got to the end of feeling the need to take it.

She'd reminded him, again, that she'd said yes to the plan looking as he looked at the time, knowing he would stop taking the deaging potion.

"Ice cream then," he said, obviously ready to no longer be talking about things that he wanted to change but could not.

"Yes."

"Should I be worried that you're pregnant again?"

"No, you shouldn't. A witch can want ice cream just for the sake of having an impromptu date with her husband."

"Do you want to be pregnant again?"

She laughed softly. "Are we having five then?"

He shrugged. His eyes told a story different from the casual shrug. She knew that look. It resulted in Graham being here. "Let's wait until the end of next year and decide then."

"I'm very happy with what we have, Erik."

"As am I, but I admit the idea of another girl…"

"Oh, we'd be having a girl?"

"Well, yes of course, are you not the brightest witch of her age or not. Obviously. Boy-girl-boy-boy-girl because the last one will need three big brothers."

"I see. If only we knew for sure it would work that way."

He chuckled. "Mm, that is something to think about."

"A potion to increase the odds of one or the other?"

"Yes," he said.

"Let's go get ice cream before you Brainiac out on me, STS."

"As my HG commands," he said with a wink.

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com