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The New Life	By : lilith395 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 14590 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Harry Potter and I don't earn anything from these stories.

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A/N: Oh yes, I'm back... I am well aware that it has been two years, to the day, I might add, but yeah, here I am again. And you guys thought you were shot of me ;). So. I'm not even going to apolagize. It's useless. It's not like that would give you guys this chapter two years earlier. So without further ado, let's just pick up where we left it shall we?
Presents and Pranks
From the moment I made my quite empty threat to the portrait twin, I have the distinct feeling I am being politely ignored by the Weasley matriarch. I have no problems with that, it means I do not have to listen to her complain about me looking underfed. I assure you, I am not underfed.
During my time of self-imposed solitude within my own mind, I believe I have finally memorized all the children's names. Though I do not really care one way or another, I think Hermione might appreciate it if I put a little effort into getting to know this horrid family, even if no one else notices. Especially, for I have no intention whatsoever to let on even a little bit that I care about the odd, loud, obnoxious bunch of redheads currently in the middle of the room. Allow me to explain.
After breakfast we were told to go to some room which is apparently a sort of sitting room, though I believe that not only me but all of my close friends, my close friends naturally being Narcissa and Lucius, would call a broom-cupboard, and we were all situated in a sort of semi-circle, around a huge pile of presents. I am grateful to no end that Andromeda has decided to join me in my little hidden away corner, and she provides me with a certain amount of intelligent conversation while the sound of tearing wrapping paper permeates the air.
Right across from us her daughter Nymphodora is struggling to keep her son Teddy on her lap. She's fighting a losing battle if you ask me, but she didn't, so I'll keep quiet for now. Besides, both Remus and Potter, who are sitting to her right, and Hermione, who is seated to her left, are pleading to her to let the poor boy go.
I have learned that I was right in my original assumptions about the white-haired girl, Victoire, sitting quietly at her mother's feet, and her little red-haired sister Dominique sitting equally as quiet, in her father's lap, being the daughters of William Weasley and his Veela wife. I have to admit that these two girls are, when their parents are nearby, the most well-behaved children I have ever seen. Even Draco was never this calm and quiet. The two surprisingly dark-haired boys who had tried to tackle Hermione when we first arrived appear to be Lovegood's children. And apparently they are the great-grandchildren of one Newt Scamander. Curious. I believe that Miss Lovegood and Mister Rolf Scamander make the oddest couple I have ever had the displeasure of meeting.
Then there's Luna, a very noisy little girl who seems to be a carbon copy of her mother, Ginevra. No matter how much I look at the screaming little brat, I can't seem to find anything even remotely Finnigan in her. Who, like the brat he is, is egging his daughter on to make even more unnecessary noise. And Molly, who wears overly large glasses and I have not seen smiling even once during the whole day. Naturally, she is the child of Percival, so it's quite understandable if she takes after her father. I remember him in class. He was a worse know-it-all than Hermione ever was.
But I think the absolute weirdest addition to the family are the new Weasley twins. Fred and Roxanne Weasley, children to George Weasley and one of the former Griffindor chasers, Miss Spinet I believe, but I am not entirely sure.
Though it isn't all that odd that they take after the former twins, even at their young age of three they can't seem to stay out of trouble, but the sillyest thing about them is that they seem to have taken a shine to me. Yes, me. I don't understand it either. But then, I have never understood children that young. However, by the odd looks the rest of the family keep throwing our way, they don't understand it either. The boy has planted himself at my feet, one of his little arms securely wrapped around my jeans-clad leg, and the girl spent ten minutes pulling on my shirt, and it wasn't untill Andromeda leaned over to tell me, 'She wants you to pick her up', that I understood what the outstretched arms and the incessant whining meant. No, I do not believe I will ever be cut out to be a father.
Which all brings me to this particlar mooment where the pile of presents is about to be unwrapped, Teddy is still trying to break free from his mother's grasp, our hostess is politely thanking one of her sons for the new knitting needles they gave her that morning, and the young Roxanne seems to have fallen asleep in my arms, sucking on her thumb, her other hand holding on to my green shirt tightly as if afraid I might leave. Oh, and of course me, looking on in wonder, trying to figure out what on earth happened to these children that they would take such a liking to me. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I believe I'm still waiting for one of them to try and prank me like their older counterparts used to try. I think it's a good thing that the worst they can do is tie my shoelaces together, if three-year-olds can tie shoelaces.
"You're a natural, Severus." Andromeda remarks with a highly amused smile, and I scowl at her.
"Oh, shut up."
I have also found out that the pile of presents currently on the floor, both wrapped and unwrapped, are all for the children. And that apparently, I have also given them gifts. I know I have something for Hermione, but apparently, she put our names on everything. I have not even told her how I feel yet, and she's already acting as though we've been married for years. Collective gift-giving? Really?
******
It's quite a while before all the kids have been satisfied by the amount of gifts they have recieved and all are banned from the room to play with their new toys. Except Roxanne, who still appears to be sleeping, but by now, I know better. Though she did truly fall asleep a while ago, she's been awake and fully aware of the fact that I know she's awake for the last half hour. I believe it's the spy in me that alerted me to the fact that her breathing changed. Not to mention the fact that her hand keeps clenching in a most unnatural way. And of course the fact that she snuck open one eye to look at me when I poked her in the side with my finger. But I'm not going to tell on her. I am actually quite curious as to why she's still here. No, I'm curious about what they have planned, after seeing the flash of red from behind one of the curtains, I am well aware someone is in for a prank. I'm very curious who. It's quite a relief as well to know I'm not that person. The girl would not play human shield if I was. Which means I'm thinking of one of the people directly across from me. Either Remus, Potter, the Tonks girl or Granger. We'll see.
I take these few moments that I have to just watch the people around me. Mostly Granger of course. Between the children attaching themselves to me and me pissing off the woman of the house, I have barely had time to think about this morning and what it all means. Really, has it only been a few hours? It feels like we've been here a week. But however I try to distract myself there is this nagging voice that's telling me I should be absolutely furious. She must've known I didn't know it was her on the morning of September 1st, or I would've spoken to her about it. However, all of her reactions from the beginning of the year make more sense to me now. The blushing, the shying away from my touch, the misplaced anger in her speech with Potter which I have to admit might not be so misplaced after all. And I guess, somewhere deep-down I am a bit angry. She could've just talked to me, couldn't she? Or no, on second thought, maybe not. I imagine I would probably rather have died than admit such a thing to and about an old professor. As I catch myself staring at her, I realise she's smiling at me. I think I am at the point of deciding that there is always later to be angry with her. We do have another week left of trekking through the wilderness together after today. I can feel the corner of my mouth pull itself up into a smirk.
And naturally, that's when the fireworks go of.
A/A/N: It's late. Any typo's shall be rectified later. But not now. It's 1:15 in the morning now. Too late for my brain or my eyes to work properly.
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The New Life