FIC: The Vanishing Twin - HP, Harry/Snape, R, 1 / 2
Title: The Vanishing Twin
(Third story in the James-verse)
Author: Lakhesis
Pairing: Harry/Snape
Rating: R
Beta: Sterling Dragonfly
Summary: Draconis rises through the blood of a sacrifice incredibly dear to the Potter-Snapes.
Disclaimer: JKRowling and Warner Brothers have all respective rights to Harry Potter and associated characters. I’m only abusing them for my own amusement.
AN: Unlike ‘The Lost Son’ and ‘The Ripple Effect’ that feature two intersecting timelines, ‘The Vanishing Twin’ features three intersecting timelines. Dating everything by James (as this is the James-verse) they are fetus, thirty-eight (also known as about six months to a year after his Ripple Effect assignment), and sixty.
***
In a Muggle, he’d be headed for a well-deserved retirement as he had just passed his sixtieth birthday. As a wizard, James was retiring from the Ministry only to take up a second career.
“I want to do the Ministry briefing.”
James looked up from his paperwork and blinked. He piled the sheets carefully, his desk mostly clean. Age was just beginning to show in the grey at his temples and crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes.
“Good morning, Auror.”
The blue-robed woman, her Paradox division insignia glinting in the light, threw herself into the guest chair and impatiently twitched her auburn braid over her shoulder. “Don’t… This may be my only chance and you know it!”
“You may have other opportunities. You don’t know yet.”
“James, please.”
Her pleading tone tugged at him. He actually understood her need rather well.
“As part of my final duties as Head of this Division, I complete this briefing.”
She leaped on the point. “But there’s no record stating it was actually you who did the briefing… only that one occurred.”
James sighed. He could see his father’s point all the better as years passed. Gryffindors were a raging pain in the arse.
“It would be far too much a risk.”
“No more risky for me than you.”
He inclined his head, conceding the point. She continued, holding onto her advantage. “As I’m going to be Division head after you, it really makes no difference.”
“It makes a difference if you’re going to abuse your authority for personal interest.”
Sulking, she crossed her arms over her chest. “As if that ever stopped you.”
James held tight to his temper. “As you well know, I had permission… Something that you might be appreciative of occasionally.”
“Godric’s Balls, James!”
“Watch your language, young lady!”
They were both standing now, faces coloring with raised emotions.
“You’re not my father!”
“You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me!”
“And you’ll never let me forget it!”
James took a deep breath. He crossed around the desk she would shortly be assuming. With only the slightest resistance, he drew her slighter form into a hug. “I’m sorry. I can’t help feeling protective of you.”
She shook her head, hiding her face in his taller shoulder. “I know. I just can’t stand being treated like a child.”
Drawing her face back, her lips twisted in a grin. “After all, technically we’re the same age.”
He tweaked her chin in response. “Temporally, I’m twice your age and you know that’s the way that counts.”
She pulled away from him and crossed her arms, self-protecting in an old gesture. “James… Please…”
He could only sigh, frowning. “This is such a bad idea.”
Ecstatic, she knew the answer and kissed him on the cheek. Her sudden change in mood and voluble, “Thank you!” told him he had certainly been had - once again.
James stared after as she left the office that would soon be hers. Sighing again, he exhaled heavily, “Oh, Eva.”
***
The youngest Minister of Magic prior to Harry Potter-Snape had been in his early thirties. Harry had been several months shy of his twenty-fourth birthday when his election had ousted the incompetent Cornelius Fudge.
Now, twenty-four by a few days to spare, he felt like his office wasn’t large enough to accommodate his bloated whale carcass of a body. One hand bracing the small of his back, he used the other to lower himself into his desk chair. The seat, charmed to his particular needs, was a much-appreciated present from Filius Flitwick. It wasn’t everyday an Associate Professor left to become Minister of Magic.
Harry rubbed his stomach lightly as his ribs were shoved. “Cut that out,” he murmured. He was far larger than he’d expected, his male shape not hiding the girth of his pregnancy. “You might have warned me, git.”
“Uh, Minister?”
Harry looked up into the face of his assistant standing by the door. From the state of her flushed cheeks, she certainly had heard him talking to himself and probably assumed he was venting his frustrated nerves at his spouse.
“What is it, Lenore?”
“Your appointment is here, sir.”
“Send them in.”
He shuffled his immediate desk clear. The one thing he always tried to do was provide his full and immediate attention. Hearing a person enter, he looked up.
The woman in the dark blue robes of an Auror couldn’t have been any taller than himself. Her auburn hair glowed, but without the brassy highlights that would mark a Weasley connection. The length had been tamed into a tight braid pinned as a bun at the base of her neck. The green hue of her eyes, and the spontaneous smile, made him think of the Mirror of Erised’s version of his mother.
Turning his face away, Harry cursed his hormone-ridden body. He coughed, then made a general gesture. “Take a seat, Auror. I hope you’ll forgive me if I don’t rise.”
He glanced up as she sat, responding calmly, “Not at all, sir.”
Then his eyes caught the silver image of an hourglass on her lapel. His automatic outburst was chagrined resignation. “Oh Merlin, again?”
She appeared confused for a moment before realizing what had caught his attention. Chuckling slightly, she shook her head. “No, sir. This is quite routine. Each new Minister of Magic is briefed on our existence and general operations.”
“Huh,” Harry responded. “May I then assume that most aren’t already familiar?”
Again, that wide open and far too pleased smile. This time, Harry wrote it off to his ever annoying fame.
“Well, Minister, most don’t figure into quite as many pivotal occurrences. Admittedly, the position does lend itself but you’re…”
“Harry Potter,” he interrupted with his own wry grin.
She shrugged. “Yes, sir.”
“Well then, have at, Auror.”
Straightening in the chair, she was obviously assuming the mantle of business. Even her rhythm of speech changed, becoming more formal and rote.
“The Paradox division was the first branch of the Ministry to exist. In the time of Merlin, as he began to shape the modern structure of magical society, it became apparent that protections would be needed. That protection came first from the Paradox Mages, then more fully as Merlin established the Gateway.”
“The Gateway?” Harry asked, fully intrigued and practically able to hear the capitalization in both their voices.
“The temporal center of our world, possibly all reality. Merlin was the first Gatekeeper. Secured magically against temporal distortion, the Gatekeeper directs the Paradox Aurors.”
“Wait a minute,” Harry gestured for a pause. “There’s a Division Head.”
“Yes, sir. The Division Head ensures normal operation. The Gatekeeper, however, informs us when an infraction occurs.”
“Who is the Gatekeeper?”
Her expression told him that this would all be covered if he’d just be quiet and stop interrupting. Oddly, he’d thought Severus the only person capable of such an ‘I love you but please shut up’ face.
“Honestly, we don’t know. It could still be Merlin himself,” she admitted. “The Gatekeeper resides in a way detached from temporal flow. The Gateway will not allow the passage of anyone. Our communications come from the Gateway, but they simply appear.”
Harry kept his mouth closed this time, waving that she should continue when she paused to answer his inevitable interjection.
“As Minister, you are authorized to view the Gatekeeper Prophecy. It’s stored in the Department of Mystery’s Prophecy Room. I believe you are familiar with the place I speak of and don’t need an introduction?”
She allowed his brusque nod to cover for the emotion of memory. There was a particular patience in her continuance, allowing him to control himself at his leisure.
“I should warn you, Sir. We’ve never been able to determine to whom it relates. We know only that it is one of Merlin’s few surviving prophecies.”
She took a deep breath, changing subjects. “Now, as your familiarity with our area exists, I’ll skip the usual spiel on ‘please, don’t interfere’ and how to recognize an agent. The item you may not have been aware of is this.”
Holding out her hand, Harry noticed a silver signet ring engraved with the hourglass.
“Our mission Portkeys. They’re spelled to be impossible to remove, to drop us where and when we need to be, and to return us when the assignment is complete.”
“What if someone undoes the enchantments?”
“They come through the Gateway with the details of each temporal disturbance. If someone can undo the Gatekeeper’s spellwork, we face danger far more severe than the loss of an Auror.”
Harry nodded, understanding. Honestly, he thought it rather odd that such importance was bestowed on a person or entity that they didn’t really know much about… But that was occasionally the way of the wizarding world.
“You’re not from around here then?” He thought that was the politest way to phrase his curiosity.
“No, sir. My origin time is approximately sixty years from now.”
He blinked for a moment, not having expected quite that wide a gap. “Oh… Well, then.”
Taking pity on his startled confusion, she concluded. “As you’ve already had more than the usual share of involvement, this has been a lot shorter than most briefings. If you have any questions, I will answer them if I can.”
Thinking a moment, Harry shook his head. “No, Auror, that probably wouldn’t be advisable.”
Nodding agreement, she ignored the hand he offered across the desk. “Thank you for your time, Minister.”
***
Harry stood still for an extended moment, fighting the nausea of the Portkey. It was a really efficient way to travel. A necessity for his current physical condition. Apparition required the mental picture of where your body was in comparison with the rest of reality. He, and every other person to experience a pregnancy, was safer with alternate travel. Unfortunately, his body was also always convinced he was heading into battle and flooded with adrenaline.
Finally managing to convince himself that he wouldn’t be losing his lunch, a much-loved voice echoed in their private sitting room.
“You’re early.”
It was not accusation, more like a mellow pleased surprise. Harry turned with a smile for the Headmaster of Hogwarts’ School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
“All my appointments kept, I was getting a little stir crazy.”
“And tired,” Severus observed shrewdly as he stepped closer. Tilting Harry’s head more towards the light, he frowned. “A nap, I believe.”
The long-fingered hands would always be potions stained, no matter how little time his duties gave him for his beloved craft. Other than the indelible marks of that art, Severus had gladly yielded to the responsibilities of his position. Oddly, it had mellowed the difficult man far more than even Harry’s presence.
Moving down Harry’s body, one hand curved protectively over his stomach. Severus smiled as his fingers were prodded from within Harry’s abdomen. “I see our son is active today.”
Harry just rolled his eyes. “He won’t let up… but then I’d probably panic if he did.”
Severus took his arm, leading him out of the main area of their suite and into the bedroom. “Three months, my dear.”
“I could stand more, but I admit I’m glad it’s almost over. I feel like a whale.”
The Headmaster finished sliding the robes off his spouse’s shoulders, leaving a delicate kiss just below Harry’s ear. “You’ve never been more handsome.”
“You’re biased,” Harry responded with a grin that was pleased all the same.
“Of course,” Severus added with a smirk. “You’ll forgive me, though, you always do. I have news.”
Harry merely lifted an eyebrow in inquiry as he sat on the edge of their bed and toed his shoes off. “Good news?”
“That Muggle imaging technology? Poppy has perfected a spell that will mimic the effects.”
“Really?” Harry sat up, all thoughts of a nap lost. “When can we try it? I want to see him.”
Severus’ hand on his chest urged Harry to lie back down. “Rest.”
“Now?” Harry retorted with wide eyes. “How am I supposed to sleep now?”
He wasn’t worried when Severus’ lips curved in a wicked grin. “I know an excellent soporific.”
The hand that cupped Harry’s groin told the whole story. He wriggled slightly, trapped on his back, partially curved to the side by an errant pillow. “Don’t tease, Severus. I can’t even see my prick these days.”
Severus joined Harry on the bed. Rolling his spouse to a vastly more comfortable position, he spooned his longer length along Harry’s back. They leaned together, Severus providing the unspoken support as he had the entire difficult progression of this gestation.
Still caressing the now hardening prick, he licked along the edge of Harry’s ear. “I can not only see it, I can reach it quite handily.”
“Oh?” Harry gasped, feigning coy. “Maybe you should do something with it then?”
“Perhaps I shall,” Severus purred. He slid his hand from Harry’s front, coasting it in the air above their bodies. His communion with the castle had provided an interesting counterpoint to already significant ability.
Harry moaned as the hand returned, this time to bare skin. He was nestled on his side, child bolstered by the rucked up quilt, the heated length of his lover pressed against him. Squirming slightly, Harry begged, “Severus, please…”
Rubbing himself against Harry’s ass and upper thighs, Severus moaned. “While there is nothing I would like more than to be inside you, not again until he joins this world.”
Groaning in mixed disappointment because he wouldn’t be getting what he really wanted and pleasure because the hand never stopped its caress, Harry pumped his hips.
“Until then,” Severus continued, his hand a rapid fisted blur.
Harry began to fuck the tight grip, snapping his hips as best he could with little bodily control. “Severus!” he called out, coming quickly.
His spouse wasn’t far behind, grinding against his willing flesh to coat the meager space between them with slick fluid.
***
“You said the Muggle device uses sound waves?”
Gladly accepting Severus’ assistance to lie atop the infirmary bed, Harry answered Poppy with a simple, “That’s right.”
She continued to bustle about, preparing for his checkup. “I fear I attempted to translate the technique too literally at first. It’s not a common practice among wizarding pregnancies. After all, the Muggle ‘prenatal’ care is needed among us only during a male or cross-species gestation.”
Harry grimaced slightly as the cold air slipped through the hospital gown. Some things were universal to both Muggles and wizards. Why he had to be so skimpily dressed when only wand-waving was involved, he had no idea.
“Although this is more related to a divinatory scrying, the approximate results should be the same.”
Severus was just as eager as Harry for the outcome of the spell. Confirmed future existence or not, the presence of a child was perpetually cause for worry. Poppy’s wand movements were complex, her incantations lengthy. Finally, she stopped.
Her expression was pleased and just a little smug. The opaque ball of grey fog floating over Harry’s abdomen provided no answers to the rest of them.
Impatient, Harry burst out with, “Well?”
Poppy glanced from his face to the fog, then at the Headmaster. “You can’t see anything?” she inquired.
“No,” Severus answered with barely disguised impatience.
“Oh well,” she sighed. “I supposed there are still adjustments to be made. It would be more useful if others than the caster could see the results.”
“But it worked for you?” Harry asked, eagerly seizing the implication in her words.
“Oh yes, of course.”
Severus’ jaw clenched with the precursor of an explosion. “And?” he drawled sarcastically.
“Congratulations, gentlemen. A healthy set of twins.”
Harry’s face had paled at the final word, his hand clenching spasmodically on Severus’ fingers. Taking a deep breath, he recovered quickly and smiled at her joke. “Really, Poppy, he looks good?”
The matron nodded, dismissing the spelled fog. “They both do.”
Shaking his head, Severus shared Harry’s perplexed state. “Both?”
Madame Pomfrey looked from the Headmaster to the Minister. “Gentlemen, your insistence that the child would be a boy could be written off as instinctive knowledge. Particularly common as male gestation only occurs among the strongest wizards. However, a refusal to acknowledge the presence of your daughter is cause for concern.”
Harry had gone pale again, gaping at the hospital matron. Severus silenced him with a glance, preventing the likely outburst. They both knew this was a difficult and delicate issue.
“Our apologies, Pomfrey. We are, of course, quite pleased. Excuse us, if you would. We find ourselves in need of the choice of a daughter’s name.”
***
Harry slumped onto the settee in their quarters, immediately curling into himself. Severus sat beside him, hand on his shoulder.
“Harry?” he asked with true concern for his mate.
The Minister of Magic looked up. Tears glistened in his eyes like crystal perched atop emerald. “I’m going to lose my daughter,” he whispered in a heartbroken tone.
Beginning to sob, he turned into his lover’s embrace as the words and tears were yanked from him. “Our little girl, Severus!”
Severus cradled Harry’s shaking form. He was concerned, yes. A daughter was unexpected to say the least. Twins… entirely a shock.
Then again, his knowledge regarding their son’s life was secondary and, at least initially, emotionally misconstrued. Experience with Harry had taught him that it was best for the former Gryffindor to vent his feelings while fresh. Repression only led to a delayed explosion - often with magical side effects.
When the slight frame, distended with the growth of his pregnancy, was nestled on his lap, Severus turned the lax head from lying on his shoulder. “Harry?”
“Yeah?” was the listless reply.
This was a tender subject. Both natural and artificial hormones had increased Harry’s already emotional tendencies.
“Why are you convinced that we will not also have the opportunity to cherish our daughter?”
Tear-streaked, Harry stared at Severus as if he’d just berated him for a classroom error. “How can you ask me that? You’ve met our son; you know everything! We’ve not seen a daughter, heard of her, nothing!”
Severus stilled the struggling body, refusing to allow Harry a physical retreat to match his emotional one. “The lack of information does not prove a non-existence. Calm yourself, pisliskurja.”
“Calm! How can I be calm about this?!”
Harry had stopped trying to get away, slumping into Severus’ arms. The Headmaster moved his hand to cup the prominent bulge of their child - children.
“Because we must… for them.”
After a deep breath, Harry asked, “Do you think it’s possible? That she’ll be okay?”
Knowing how his mate felt about family, Severus knew there was no choice but for their daughter to thrive. “I believe that any child of ours - cast into a past where we were not yet a certainty - would be wise enough to guard his words.”
Harry continued to breathe deeply. A male gestation could be dangerous. The risk factors, the problems, all had been drilled into him before Severus had allowed him the first dose of the potion. He would not knowingly raise the risk through a stressed out body.
Severus rubbed lightly at Harry’s back, the disheveled head once again tucked into the crook of his shoulder and neck. Perhaps feeling the tenuous connection, he did not remove his hand from Harry's abdomen. “Is there anything you recall that inspires this anxiety?”
Harry thought, still and growing calmer by the moment. “He,” Harry paused. “He did mention that his dad was only pregnant once. That any siblings would have to be grown in a cauldron.”
Severus chuckled. It was a sentiment that Harry had already begun to eagerly express. Particularly during the rough first trimester regurgitating stage. All the same, the recollection supported his hope. “Twins, my dear. Two children, one pregnancy.”
Harry sat up, wanting to look his spouse in the eye. “It was him - only ever him - when we needed help.”
The Potions Master ceased cradling his children to wipe the moisture from his lover’s face. “Despite our legacy, perhaps she will have a quiet career and not one of life, death, and the battle against dark intentions.”
He smiled faintly. “Perhaps she will be surrounded by cauldrons and listening to James regale her with his adventures.”
Harry laughed, casting off his negative thoughts as easily as his husband reassured him. “You’ve no one to blame for these overworking hormones but yourself. It is your potion that keeps me tear duct deep in them.”
Severus kissed Harry. Expressing his love through a deep connection of lips and tongue, they silenced the worry. “The slightest of sacrifices,” he whispered when he finally released his husband.
Watching Harry moved through their rooms, the Headmaster hid his own doubts. His words had been correct - they had to be.
***
“You’re supposed to be at Hogwarts.”
James stepped into the office that had been his the week before. “Term hasn’t started yet. Defense Against the Dark Arts will be easy to teach after forty years here.”
“Poor little James Potter,” the new Division head snorted disdainfully. “He’s so deprived.”
“Professor Potter-Snape to you, snot.” He glanced at the package on the desk between them. “Don’t forget that missions are still the same. Don’t let them get to you now that you’re in charge.”
It was a father’s advice. She looked up, her thoughts drifting. “Was she very upset? When I stopped calling her Mom?”
James sighed, his thoughts moving to his wife. “She understood,” he offered tactfully. Not really a denial but no admission either. “The children were all school age when I brought you home. We all knew.”
Eva lifted a scrap of parchment from the desk. “You’ve always been better at Potions than most of the staff here, can you provide these?”
“We do have Masters on call,” James reminded her, reaching for the paper. He looked at the short list, reading through it with sudden understanding.
She met his gaze, shrugging. “I think they’d be more comfortable to have them provided by family, even if they never know that detail.”
James was subdued. “Of course.”
***
“Come,” Severus ordered abruptly. Term had been under way for a month and he was still buried under the attendant paperwork. There were days when he swore that Dumbledore’s portrait was smirking over the issue.
When there was only silence after the sound of the door, he prompted the entrant without looking up. “Well? What transgressions bring you here?”
Severus did glance up at the feminine chuckle and froze. Lily Marie Evans Potter, his deceased mother-in-law, had just walked into his office. Severus regained his wits as the first impression shattered. The hair was darker, the eyes brighter, and Lily had never worn the navy robes of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
“How can I be of assistance, Auror?”
It took the woman a moment to speak, but she finally did so, stepping closer to his desk. “Actually, sir. I’m here to be of assistance to you.”
His curiosity rose. “How so?”
She leaned over, taking a set of potions vials from inside her robes and laying them on the desk. As she straightened, her lapel flipped back to reveal the silver hourglass.
The Headmaster glanced from the five vials on his desk, to the woman, and back again. Neither commented on the tremors in his hand as he reached out and lifted each vial to read the label.
“For Harry?” he finally asked, his voice hoarse with unadmitted emotion.
She nodded at first. Then, blinking rapidly, she elaborated, “The maroon need to be taken each fortnight, starting tonight. The green administered on Halloween morning.”
Severus was still betrayingly hoarse as he kept a tight grip on his displayed emotion. “The blood volume philters I recognize. What is the green?”
It didn’t appear at first that she would answer. After an inner battle fought across her features, she said simply, “A slow acting sedative.”
“Why?”
“To make it easier on him.”
Severus looked up from his desk and met the Auror’s steady gaze. His expression indicated quite clearly that he wouldn’t mind revisiting some of the actions of his Death Eater youth.
She shook slightly, eyes glistening behind a veil of unshed tears. It was never easy to deliver bad news. Doubly so when the recipient was such a well known and well respected occupant of history. Her voice quavered as she added, “I’m so sorry,” in a tone broken by emotion.
“Get out of my office.”
The Potions Master closed his eyes as she disappeared by Portkey. The vials clinked together as he gathered them into a fist.
He could see it in his mind’s eyes. All it would take was a sharp squeeze. The glass would shatter, slicing his flesh. The potions would splatter, mixing improperly on his desk and robes. Harry could be kept safe, locked away, sheltered. His children could be protected - preserved.
Severus lightened his straining grip before his fantasy was realized. This was the result of his premonition of doom. His punishment for his youthful indiscretions was appallingly simple. Not only would he lose his daughter, he’d be a conspirator.
He would drug his mate with these potions. He knew that already.
He could never tell Harry what he’d known and what he was about to do to his person. And he would keep it all to himself because of a selfish need to never be denied his husband or son.
***
Each distracted by their day’s events, neither Harry nor Severus found it unusual that the other was avoiding conversation. Harry had declined dinner in the Great Hall, an increasingly common occurrence as his pregnancy progressed. Severus had accepted his preference with barely a murmur of his usual concern.
In their quarters that evening, the issue came to a head. Harry abandoned his cushy armchair and approached Headmaster’s desk.
“Severus, we need to talk.”
He looked up after a momentary pause. It crossed his mind to confess all, but he refrained.
“About?” Severus prompted when Harry didn’t meet his eyes.
Harry was too distracted for his usual protest against conversation being held across Severus’ desk. His ‘I am no longer a student’ monologue was nothing like his current low-voiced stutter. Drawing a steadying breath, Harry tried again.
“I had a meeting today with a representative of the Italian Ministry of Magic.”
When Severus didn’t speak, Harry decided to finish in a rush. “Draco Malfoy has disappeared. The Ministry agents that were watching him are all dead.”
“Harry…” Severus started.
He was interrupted as Harry whispered, “I’m so sorry.” Taking a deep breath, the younger man admitted his worry. “He’s coming… for me. They’ll never leave us alone. There’ll always be another, and another, and another.”
Severus rose, crossing around his desk in a rush. His arms swallowed Harry, muffling his concerns and protestations. The Headmaster knew then that this was how it started. The grief involved was strong.
Worse, they knew this particular opponent would continue for seventeen years. Until their almost fully grown son defied them… Until they had to send that son to their own past… Until in that past, Draconis would finally be defeated on the eve before Voldemort.
Severus laid his head atop Harry’s. They clung to each other, finding comfort in the one place it had always been offered.
“I never asked for peace.”
***
(Third story in the James-verse)
Author: Lakhesis
Pairing: Harry/Snape
Rating: R
Beta: Sterling Dragonfly
Summary: Draconis rises through the blood of a sacrifice incredibly dear to the Potter-Snapes.
Disclaimer: JKRowling and Warner Brothers have all respective rights to Harry Potter and associated characters. I’m only abusing them for my own amusement.
AN: Unlike ‘The Lost Son’ and ‘The Ripple Effect’ that feature two intersecting timelines, ‘The Vanishing Twin’ features three intersecting timelines. Dating everything by James (as this is the James-verse) they are fetus, thirty-eight (also known as about six months to a year after his Ripple Effect assignment), and sixty.
***
In a Muggle, he’d be headed for a well-deserved retirement as he had just passed his sixtieth birthday. As a wizard, James was retiring from the Ministry only to take up a second career.
“I want to do the Ministry briefing.”
James looked up from his paperwork and blinked. He piled the sheets carefully, his desk mostly clean. Age was just beginning to show in the grey at his temples and crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes.
“Good morning, Auror.”
The blue-robed woman, her Paradox division insignia glinting in the light, threw herself into the guest chair and impatiently twitched her auburn braid over her shoulder. “Don’t… This may be my only chance and you know it!”
“You may have other opportunities. You don’t know yet.”
“James, please.”
Her pleading tone tugged at him. He actually understood her need rather well.
“As part of my final duties as Head of this Division, I complete this briefing.”
She leaped on the point. “But there’s no record stating it was actually you who did the briefing… only that one occurred.”
James sighed. He could see his father’s point all the better as years passed. Gryffindors were a raging pain in the arse.
“It would be far too much a risk.”
“No more risky for me than you.”
He inclined his head, conceding the point. She continued, holding onto her advantage. “As I’m going to be Division head after you, it really makes no difference.”
“It makes a difference if you’re going to abuse your authority for personal interest.”
Sulking, she crossed her arms over her chest. “As if that ever stopped you.”
James held tight to his temper. “As you well know, I had permission… Something that you might be appreciative of occasionally.”
“Godric’s Balls, James!”
“Watch your language, young lady!”
They were both standing now, faces coloring with raised emotions.
“You’re not my father!”
“You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me!”
“And you’ll never let me forget it!”
James took a deep breath. He crossed around the desk she would shortly be assuming. With only the slightest resistance, he drew her slighter form into a hug. “I’m sorry. I can’t help feeling protective of you.”
She shook her head, hiding her face in his taller shoulder. “I know. I just can’t stand being treated like a child.”
Drawing her face back, her lips twisted in a grin. “After all, technically we’re the same age.”
He tweaked her chin in response. “Temporally, I’m twice your age and you know that’s the way that counts.”
She pulled away from him and crossed her arms, self-protecting in an old gesture. “James… Please…”
He could only sigh, frowning. “This is such a bad idea.”
Ecstatic, she knew the answer and kissed him on the cheek. Her sudden change in mood and voluble, “Thank you!” told him he had certainly been had - once again.
James stared after as she left the office that would soon be hers. Sighing again, he exhaled heavily, “Oh, Eva.”
***
The youngest Minister of Magic prior to Harry Potter-Snape had been in his early thirties. Harry had been several months shy of his twenty-fourth birthday when his election had ousted the incompetent Cornelius Fudge.
Now, twenty-four by a few days to spare, he felt like his office wasn’t large enough to accommodate his bloated whale carcass of a body. One hand bracing the small of his back, he used the other to lower himself into his desk chair. The seat, charmed to his particular needs, was a much-appreciated present from Filius Flitwick. It wasn’t everyday an Associate Professor left to become Minister of Magic.
Harry rubbed his stomach lightly as his ribs were shoved. “Cut that out,” he murmured. He was far larger than he’d expected, his male shape not hiding the girth of his pregnancy. “You might have warned me, git.”
“Uh, Minister?”
Harry looked up into the face of his assistant standing by the door. From the state of her flushed cheeks, she certainly had heard him talking to himself and probably assumed he was venting his frustrated nerves at his spouse.
“What is it, Lenore?”
“Your appointment is here, sir.”
“Send them in.”
He shuffled his immediate desk clear. The one thing he always tried to do was provide his full and immediate attention. Hearing a person enter, he looked up.
The woman in the dark blue robes of an Auror couldn’t have been any taller than himself. Her auburn hair glowed, but without the brassy highlights that would mark a Weasley connection. The length had been tamed into a tight braid pinned as a bun at the base of her neck. The green hue of her eyes, and the spontaneous smile, made him think of the Mirror of Erised’s version of his mother.
Turning his face away, Harry cursed his hormone-ridden body. He coughed, then made a general gesture. “Take a seat, Auror. I hope you’ll forgive me if I don’t rise.”
He glanced up as she sat, responding calmly, “Not at all, sir.”
Then his eyes caught the silver image of an hourglass on her lapel. His automatic outburst was chagrined resignation. “Oh Merlin, again?”
She appeared confused for a moment before realizing what had caught his attention. Chuckling slightly, she shook her head. “No, sir. This is quite routine. Each new Minister of Magic is briefed on our existence and general operations.”
“Huh,” Harry responded. “May I then assume that most aren’t already familiar?”
Again, that wide open and far too pleased smile. This time, Harry wrote it off to his ever annoying fame.
“Well, Minister, most don’t figure into quite as many pivotal occurrences. Admittedly, the position does lend itself but you’re…”
“Harry Potter,” he interrupted with his own wry grin.
She shrugged. “Yes, sir.”
“Well then, have at, Auror.”
Straightening in the chair, she was obviously assuming the mantle of business. Even her rhythm of speech changed, becoming more formal and rote.
“The Paradox division was the first branch of the Ministry to exist. In the time of Merlin, as he began to shape the modern structure of magical society, it became apparent that protections would be needed. That protection came first from the Paradox Mages, then more fully as Merlin established the Gateway.”
“The Gateway?” Harry asked, fully intrigued and practically able to hear the capitalization in both their voices.
“The temporal center of our world, possibly all reality. Merlin was the first Gatekeeper. Secured magically against temporal distortion, the Gatekeeper directs the Paradox Aurors.”
“Wait a minute,” Harry gestured for a pause. “There’s a Division Head.”
“Yes, sir. The Division Head ensures normal operation. The Gatekeeper, however, informs us when an infraction occurs.”
“Who is the Gatekeeper?”
Her expression told him that this would all be covered if he’d just be quiet and stop interrupting. Oddly, he’d thought Severus the only person capable of such an ‘I love you but please shut up’ face.
“Honestly, we don’t know. It could still be Merlin himself,” she admitted. “The Gatekeeper resides in a way detached from temporal flow. The Gateway will not allow the passage of anyone. Our communications come from the Gateway, but they simply appear.”
Harry kept his mouth closed this time, waving that she should continue when she paused to answer his inevitable interjection.
“As Minister, you are authorized to view the Gatekeeper Prophecy. It’s stored in the Department of Mystery’s Prophecy Room. I believe you are familiar with the place I speak of and don’t need an introduction?”
She allowed his brusque nod to cover for the emotion of memory. There was a particular patience in her continuance, allowing him to control himself at his leisure.
“I should warn you, Sir. We’ve never been able to determine to whom it relates. We know only that it is one of Merlin’s few surviving prophecies.”
She took a deep breath, changing subjects. “Now, as your familiarity with our area exists, I’ll skip the usual spiel on ‘please, don’t interfere’ and how to recognize an agent. The item you may not have been aware of is this.”
Holding out her hand, Harry noticed a silver signet ring engraved with the hourglass.
“Our mission Portkeys. They’re spelled to be impossible to remove, to drop us where and when we need to be, and to return us when the assignment is complete.”
“What if someone undoes the enchantments?”
“They come through the Gateway with the details of each temporal disturbance. If someone can undo the Gatekeeper’s spellwork, we face danger far more severe than the loss of an Auror.”
Harry nodded, understanding. Honestly, he thought it rather odd that such importance was bestowed on a person or entity that they didn’t really know much about… But that was occasionally the way of the wizarding world.
“You’re not from around here then?” He thought that was the politest way to phrase his curiosity.
“No, sir. My origin time is approximately sixty years from now.”
He blinked for a moment, not having expected quite that wide a gap. “Oh… Well, then.”
Taking pity on his startled confusion, she concluded. “As you’ve already had more than the usual share of involvement, this has been a lot shorter than most briefings. If you have any questions, I will answer them if I can.”
Thinking a moment, Harry shook his head. “No, Auror, that probably wouldn’t be advisable.”
Nodding agreement, she ignored the hand he offered across the desk. “Thank you for your time, Minister.”
***
Harry stood still for an extended moment, fighting the nausea of the Portkey. It was a really efficient way to travel. A necessity for his current physical condition. Apparition required the mental picture of where your body was in comparison with the rest of reality. He, and every other person to experience a pregnancy, was safer with alternate travel. Unfortunately, his body was also always convinced he was heading into battle and flooded with adrenaline.
Finally managing to convince himself that he wouldn’t be losing his lunch, a much-loved voice echoed in their private sitting room.
“You’re early.”
It was not accusation, more like a mellow pleased surprise. Harry turned with a smile for the Headmaster of Hogwarts’ School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
“All my appointments kept, I was getting a little stir crazy.”
“And tired,” Severus observed shrewdly as he stepped closer. Tilting Harry’s head more towards the light, he frowned. “A nap, I believe.”
The long-fingered hands would always be potions stained, no matter how little time his duties gave him for his beloved craft. Other than the indelible marks of that art, Severus had gladly yielded to the responsibilities of his position. Oddly, it had mellowed the difficult man far more than even Harry’s presence.
Moving down Harry’s body, one hand curved protectively over his stomach. Severus smiled as his fingers were prodded from within Harry’s abdomen. “I see our son is active today.”
Harry just rolled his eyes. “He won’t let up… but then I’d probably panic if he did.”
Severus took his arm, leading him out of the main area of their suite and into the bedroom. “Three months, my dear.”
“I could stand more, but I admit I’m glad it’s almost over. I feel like a whale.”
The Headmaster finished sliding the robes off his spouse’s shoulders, leaving a delicate kiss just below Harry’s ear. “You’ve never been more handsome.”
“You’re biased,” Harry responded with a grin that was pleased all the same.
“Of course,” Severus added with a smirk. “You’ll forgive me, though, you always do. I have news.”
Harry merely lifted an eyebrow in inquiry as he sat on the edge of their bed and toed his shoes off. “Good news?”
“That Muggle imaging technology? Poppy has perfected a spell that will mimic the effects.”
“Really?” Harry sat up, all thoughts of a nap lost. “When can we try it? I want to see him.”
Severus’ hand on his chest urged Harry to lie back down. “Rest.”
“Now?” Harry retorted with wide eyes. “How am I supposed to sleep now?”
He wasn’t worried when Severus’ lips curved in a wicked grin. “I know an excellent soporific.”
The hand that cupped Harry’s groin told the whole story. He wriggled slightly, trapped on his back, partially curved to the side by an errant pillow. “Don’t tease, Severus. I can’t even see my prick these days.”
Severus joined Harry on the bed. Rolling his spouse to a vastly more comfortable position, he spooned his longer length along Harry’s back. They leaned together, Severus providing the unspoken support as he had the entire difficult progression of this gestation.
Still caressing the now hardening prick, he licked along the edge of Harry’s ear. “I can not only see it, I can reach it quite handily.”
“Oh?” Harry gasped, feigning coy. “Maybe you should do something with it then?”
“Perhaps I shall,” Severus purred. He slid his hand from Harry’s front, coasting it in the air above their bodies. His communion with the castle had provided an interesting counterpoint to already significant ability.
Harry moaned as the hand returned, this time to bare skin. He was nestled on his side, child bolstered by the rucked up quilt, the heated length of his lover pressed against him. Squirming slightly, Harry begged, “Severus, please…”
Rubbing himself against Harry’s ass and upper thighs, Severus moaned. “While there is nothing I would like more than to be inside you, not again until he joins this world.”
Groaning in mixed disappointment because he wouldn’t be getting what he really wanted and pleasure because the hand never stopped its caress, Harry pumped his hips.
“Until then,” Severus continued, his hand a rapid fisted blur.
Harry began to fuck the tight grip, snapping his hips as best he could with little bodily control. “Severus!” he called out, coming quickly.
His spouse wasn’t far behind, grinding against his willing flesh to coat the meager space between them with slick fluid.
***
“You said the Muggle device uses sound waves?”
Gladly accepting Severus’ assistance to lie atop the infirmary bed, Harry answered Poppy with a simple, “That’s right.”
She continued to bustle about, preparing for his checkup. “I fear I attempted to translate the technique too literally at first. It’s not a common practice among wizarding pregnancies. After all, the Muggle ‘prenatal’ care is needed among us only during a male or cross-species gestation.”
Harry grimaced slightly as the cold air slipped through the hospital gown. Some things were universal to both Muggles and wizards. Why he had to be so skimpily dressed when only wand-waving was involved, he had no idea.
“Although this is more related to a divinatory scrying, the approximate results should be the same.”
Severus was just as eager as Harry for the outcome of the spell. Confirmed future existence or not, the presence of a child was perpetually cause for worry. Poppy’s wand movements were complex, her incantations lengthy. Finally, she stopped.
Her expression was pleased and just a little smug. The opaque ball of grey fog floating over Harry’s abdomen provided no answers to the rest of them.
Impatient, Harry burst out with, “Well?”
Poppy glanced from his face to the fog, then at the Headmaster. “You can’t see anything?” she inquired.
“No,” Severus answered with barely disguised impatience.
“Oh well,” she sighed. “I supposed there are still adjustments to be made. It would be more useful if others than the caster could see the results.”
“But it worked for you?” Harry asked, eagerly seizing the implication in her words.
“Oh yes, of course.”
Severus’ jaw clenched with the precursor of an explosion. “And?” he drawled sarcastically.
“Congratulations, gentlemen. A healthy set of twins.”
Harry’s face had paled at the final word, his hand clenching spasmodically on Severus’ fingers. Taking a deep breath, he recovered quickly and smiled at her joke. “Really, Poppy, he looks good?”
The matron nodded, dismissing the spelled fog. “They both do.”
Shaking his head, Severus shared Harry’s perplexed state. “Both?”
Madame Pomfrey looked from the Headmaster to the Minister. “Gentlemen, your insistence that the child would be a boy could be written off as instinctive knowledge. Particularly common as male gestation only occurs among the strongest wizards. However, a refusal to acknowledge the presence of your daughter is cause for concern.”
Harry had gone pale again, gaping at the hospital matron. Severus silenced him with a glance, preventing the likely outburst. They both knew this was a difficult and delicate issue.
“Our apologies, Pomfrey. We are, of course, quite pleased. Excuse us, if you would. We find ourselves in need of the choice of a daughter’s name.”
***
Harry slumped onto the settee in their quarters, immediately curling into himself. Severus sat beside him, hand on his shoulder.
“Harry?” he asked with true concern for his mate.
The Minister of Magic looked up. Tears glistened in his eyes like crystal perched atop emerald. “I’m going to lose my daughter,” he whispered in a heartbroken tone.
Beginning to sob, he turned into his lover’s embrace as the words and tears were yanked from him. “Our little girl, Severus!”
Severus cradled Harry’s shaking form. He was concerned, yes. A daughter was unexpected to say the least. Twins… entirely a shock.
Then again, his knowledge regarding their son’s life was secondary and, at least initially, emotionally misconstrued. Experience with Harry had taught him that it was best for the former Gryffindor to vent his feelings while fresh. Repression only led to a delayed explosion - often with magical side effects.
When the slight frame, distended with the growth of his pregnancy, was nestled on his lap, Severus turned the lax head from lying on his shoulder. “Harry?”
“Yeah?” was the listless reply.
This was a tender subject. Both natural and artificial hormones had increased Harry’s already emotional tendencies.
“Why are you convinced that we will not also have the opportunity to cherish our daughter?”
Tear-streaked, Harry stared at Severus as if he’d just berated him for a classroom error. “How can you ask me that? You’ve met our son; you know everything! We’ve not seen a daughter, heard of her, nothing!”
Severus stilled the struggling body, refusing to allow Harry a physical retreat to match his emotional one. “The lack of information does not prove a non-existence. Calm yourself, pisliskurja.”
“Calm! How can I be calm about this?!”
Harry had stopped trying to get away, slumping into Severus’ arms. The Headmaster moved his hand to cup the prominent bulge of their child - children.
“Because we must… for them.”
After a deep breath, Harry asked, “Do you think it’s possible? That she’ll be okay?”
Knowing how his mate felt about family, Severus knew there was no choice but for their daughter to thrive. “I believe that any child of ours - cast into a past where we were not yet a certainty - would be wise enough to guard his words.”
Harry continued to breathe deeply. A male gestation could be dangerous. The risk factors, the problems, all had been drilled into him before Severus had allowed him the first dose of the potion. He would not knowingly raise the risk through a stressed out body.
Severus rubbed lightly at Harry’s back, the disheveled head once again tucked into the crook of his shoulder and neck. Perhaps feeling the tenuous connection, he did not remove his hand from Harry's abdomen. “Is there anything you recall that inspires this anxiety?”
Harry thought, still and growing calmer by the moment. “He,” Harry paused. “He did mention that his dad was only pregnant once. That any siblings would have to be grown in a cauldron.”
Severus chuckled. It was a sentiment that Harry had already begun to eagerly express. Particularly during the rough first trimester regurgitating stage. All the same, the recollection supported his hope. “Twins, my dear. Two children, one pregnancy.”
Harry sat up, wanting to look his spouse in the eye. “It was him - only ever him - when we needed help.”
The Potions Master ceased cradling his children to wipe the moisture from his lover’s face. “Despite our legacy, perhaps she will have a quiet career and not one of life, death, and the battle against dark intentions.”
He smiled faintly. “Perhaps she will be surrounded by cauldrons and listening to James regale her with his adventures.”
Harry laughed, casting off his negative thoughts as easily as his husband reassured him. “You’ve no one to blame for these overworking hormones but yourself. It is your potion that keeps me tear duct deep in them.”
Severus kissed Harry. Expressing his love through a deep connection of lips and tongue, they silenced the worry. “The slightest of sacrifices,” he whispered when he finally released his husband.
Watching Harry moved through their rooms, the Headmaster hid his own doubts. His words had been correct - they had to be.
***
“You’re supposed to be at Hogwarts.”
James stepped into the office that had been his the week before. “Term hasn’t started yet. Defense Against the Dark Arts will be easy to teach after forty years here.”
“Poor little James Potter,” the new Division head snorted disdainfully. “He’s so deprived.”
“Professor Potter-Snape to you, snot.” He glanced at the package on the desk between them. “Don’t forget that missions are still the same. Don’t let them get to you now that you’re in charge.”
It was a father’s advice. She looked up, her thoughts drifting. “Was she very upset? When I stopped calling her Mom?”
James sighed, his thoughts moving to his wife. “She understood,” he offered tactfully. Not really a denial but no admission either. “The children were all school age when I brought you home. We all knew.”
Eva lifted a scrap of parchment from the desk. “You’ve always been better at Potions than most of the staff here, can you provide these?”
“We do have Masters on call,” James reminded her, reaching for the paper. He looked at the short list, reading through it with sudden understanding.
She met his gaze, shrugging. “I think they’d be more comfortable to have them provided by family, even if they never know that detail.”
James was subdued. “Of course.”
***
“Come,” Severus ordered abruptly. Term had been under way for a month and he was still buried under the attendant paperwork. There were days when he swore that Dumbledore’s portrait was smirking over the issue.
When there was only silence after the sound of the door, he prompted the entrant without looking up. “Well? What transgressions bring you here?”
Severus did glance up at the feminine chuckle and froze. Lily Marie Evans Potter, his deceased mother-in-law, had just walked into his office. Severus regained his wits as the first impression shattered. The hair was darker, the eyes brighter, and Lily had never worn the navy robes of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
“How can I be of assistance, Auror?”
It took the woman a moment to speak, but she finally did so, stepping closer to his desk. “Actually, sir. I’m here to be of assistance to you.”
His curiosity rose. “How so?”
She leaned over, taking a set of potions vials from inside her robes and laying them on the desk. As she straightened, her lapel flipped back to reveal the silver hourglass.
The Headmaster glanced from the five vials on his desk, to the woman, and back again. Neither commented on the tremors in his hand as he reached out and lifted each vial to read the label.
“For Harry?” he finally asked, his voice hoarse with unadmitted emotion.
She nodded at first. Then, blinking rapidly, she elaborated, “The maroon need to be taken each fortnight, starting tonight. The green administered on Halloween morning.”
Severus was still betrayingly hoarse as he kept a tight grip on his displayed emotion. “The blood volume philters I recognize. What is the green?”
It didn’t appear at first that she would answer. After an inner battle fought across her features, she said simply, “A slow acting sedative.”
“Why?”
“To make it easier on him.”
Severus looked up from his desk and met the Auror’s steady gaze. His expression indicated quite clearly that he wouldn’t mind revisiting some of the actions of his Death Eater youth.
She shook slightly, eyes glistening behind a veil of unshed tears. It was never easy to deliver bad news. Doubly so when the recipient was such a well known and well respected occupant of history. Her voice quavered as she added, “I’m so sorry,” in a tone broken by emotion.
“Get out of my office.”
The Potions Master closed his eyes as she disappeared by Portkey. The vials clinked together as he gathered them into a fist.
He could see it in his mind’s eyes. All it would take was a sharp squeeze. The glass would shatter, slicing his flesh. The potions would splatter, mixing improperly on his desk and robes. Harry could be kept safe, locked away, sheltered. His children could be protected - preserved.
Severus lightened his straining grip before his fantasy was realized. This was the result of his premonition of doom. His punishment for his youthful indiscretions was appallingly simple. Not only would he lose his daughter, he’d be a conspirator.
He would drug his mate with these potions. He knew that already.
He could never tell Harry what he’d known and what he was about to do to his person. And he would keep it all to himself because of a selfish need to never be denied his husband or son.
***
Each distracted by their day’s events, neither Harry nor Severus found it unusual that the other was avoiding conversation. Harry had declined dinner in the Great Hall, an increasingly common occurrence as his pregnancy progressed. Severus had accepted his preference with barely a murmur of his usual concern.
In their quarters that evening, the issue came to a head. Harry abandoned his cushy armchair and approached Headmaster’s desk.
“Severus, we need to talk.”
He looked up after a momentary pause. It crossed his mind to confess all, but he refrained.
“About?” Severus prompted when Harry didn’t meet his eyes.
Harry was too distracted for his usual protest against conversation being held across Severus’ desk. His ‘I am no longer a student’ monologue was nothing like his current low-voiced stutter. Drawing a steadying breath, Harry tried again.
“I had a meeting today with a representative of the Italian Ministry of Magic.”
When Severus didn’t speak, Harry decided to finish in a rush. “Draco Malfoy has disappeared. The Ministry agents that were watching him are all dead.”
“Harry…” Severus started.
He was interrupted as Harry whispered, “I’m so sorry.” Taking a deep breath, the younger man admitted his worry. “He’s coming… for me. They’ll never leave us alone. There’ll always be another, and another, and another.”
Severus rose, crossing around his desk in a rush. His arms swallowed Harry, muffling his concerns and protestations. The Headmaster knew then that this was how it started. The grief involved was strong.
Worse, they knew this particular opponent would continue for seventeen years. Until their almost fully grown son defied them… Until they had to send that son to their own past… Until in that past, Draconis would finally be defeated on the eve before Voldemort.
Severus laid his head atop Harry’s. They clung to each other, finding comfort in the one place it had always been offered.
“I never asked for peace.”
***