“Perfectly,” Morgan smoothed the blanket that lay across her lap as she sat before the fire. At the start of June it was far too warm for a fire anywhere but deep in the dungeons. “Are you going to be fine?” she couldn’t help asking. Her husband looked far more distracted than he usually did.
“Of course. I just wish I could say with certainty that the boy-who-never-ceases-to-torment-me will survive the rest of the day. If only there were some way to properly keep an eye on him in that damnable maze…”
“With you and Albus there, I’m sure things will go smoothly.”
“You are certain you will be fine on your own? If you wish to sit in the stands and watch, I will find an appropriate escort for you.”
Morgan smiled, “no thank you. I’m a bit tired. I think I’ll just sit here and alternate between reading and napping for the rest of the afternoon.” She left out that her lower back and been aching all morning and she was feeling rather off in general. “The house elves are about if I need anything.”
“Very well then,” he bent down to claim her lips with his own for several long minutes before throwing on his robes and heading for the door. “I will be back later this evening. Do try to behave yourself until then.”
“I always do,” Morgan responded, her eyes wide and innocent. She tried to hide a not so innocent smile when her husband merely snorted in response.
Not very long afterwards, she was startled out of sleep by the sudden *pop* and appearance of a house elf.
“Dobby had brought a letter for Madame Snape. An owl just brought it.” The house elf, in his Weasley sweater and mismatched socks held out the letter importantly.
“Thank you, Dobby,” Morgan took the proffered parchment.
Dobby beamed at her expressed gratitude. The house elves all liked Morgan. As a pureblood who had never known luxury, she was always grateful for the tasks they preformed for her. “Can Dobby bring Madame Snape anything else?”
Morgan hesitated for a moment before answering. She wasn’t really feeling all that well. “Perhaps some tea.” Dobby was on his way to fetch it almost before she could finish her short sentence.
She turned back to the parchment in her hands. It was clearly addressed to her, but in a hand that was unfamiliar. Curious, she opened it, and nearly dropped it as she read the contents. She placed it aside slowly and then pushed herself out of her chair to go stand by the enchanted window that allowed her to look out over the grounds. “He’s finally drank himself to death…”
She supposed she should feel more remorse over her father’s death. After all, she remembered a time when he had loved her. But that was all before her mother died… She’d have to tell her sister. Her greatest fear was that Grainne would laugh in delight when she learned that their father was dead. There would be funeral preparations. And something would have to be done about Grainne as she was still only twelve years old.
Morgan pondered over this recent turn of events for a long time. She barely acknowledged Dobby when he came back with a loaded tea tray. But a sudden jolt of pain brought her out of her reverie very quickly. And it wasn’t her back this time. She rested a hand on her protruding middle, a look of terror on her face. “It’s too early,” she whispered frantically, even though there was no one about to hear her. “The baby shouldn’t be here for nearly another month.”
Her first thought was to go see Poppy. But then she realized, everyone was at the Quidditch Pitch watching the final task in the Triwizard Tournament. She was alone in the castle save for the house elves and ghosts.
“Oh dear.” She returned to her chair as quickly as she could and took several steadying breaths.
She was fine for the next several hours. The contractions were still well apart and she wasn’t too worried. With any luck the third task should be over soon and she could send a house elf for Poppy. She concentrated on this one thought. She finally decided that perhaps she should try and look for someone. She knew Severus didn’t like her wandering about, but she considered that in this case he couldn’t say too much about it.
She carefully stepped out into the dungeon corridor and looked up and down it. There was no one in sight.
“Madame Snape.”
She started and found herself face to face with the Bloody Baron. The rather frightening specter had never spoken to her before.
“Return to your quarters, and remain there,” he commanded.
Morgan’s hand went to protectively cover her stomach. “I need to find Madame Pomphrey,” she whispered, finding it hard to meet the Baron’s eyes.
The ghost looked up and down the corridor. “Go back to your quarters,” he repeated, “someone will come to you.”
“But I…”
“It is not safe, and Professor Snape would not be pleased if I allowed any harm to come to you.”
Morgan was tempted to ask why it wasn’t safe, but somehow knew that the Slytherin ghost would not answer her. Instead, she returned to her quarters as ordered and resumed waiting.
One of the school house elves came to check on her, and when the small female creature realized what was going on, she insisted on staying.
She watched as night fell and continued to time contractions. When her water broke she knew a real moment of panic. No one had returned yet. “The tournament should have been over by now,” she could feel the beads of sweat standing out on her forehead.
“Don’t worry Madame Snape,” Iris the house elf piped up in a shrill voice, “the other house elves is waiting for Madame Pomphrey to return, theys will send her right down to you.”
Morgan nodded her thanks as she gripped the arms of the leather wingback chair she had settled in. “I think… I think perhaps I should go to bed…” but she knew she couldn’t get herself there. The clock had never moved so slowly.
She hardly noticed when several more house elves popped in and out and consulted with Iris.
“Madame Snape,” Iris crept forward and tugged on the sleeve of her robes, “Madame Pomphrey is back now, but evil wizards has harmed Harry Potter. We will tell her to see you when shes is done.”
“Severus?” Morgan’s voice cracked a bit, her throat was so dry. But she didn’t think she could keep anything she drank down.
“The Baron is watching for him.”
The house elf held Morgan’s hand and gently patted it as she shuddered through the pain of the next contraction. They were getting closer and closer together.
Madame Pomphrey burst through the door a short while later, and Morgan had never been more relieved to see the mediwitch before.
“If it’s not unforgivables its babies,” the nurse muttered. But she was very serious as she looked Morgan over, “you need to be in bed now, this baby is going to join us very soon.”
“Severus?” Morgan asked again.
“He’s otherwise engaged at the moment,” Poppy replied as she helped Morgan to stand and carefully led her into the bedroom. “You’ll see him after this baby is delivered and then you can present him with his new son or daughter.”
The tears spilled over at that. Morgan, after being alone all afternoon, while in labor, just wanted her husband. And she was tired, so tired…
“Up you get,” Poppy settled Morgan in the large bed as she began directing house elves as to what she would need. Iris stayed by Morgan’s side, continuing to stroke her hand and offer words of encouragement.
“Please,” Morgan begged, “I know it’s not done, but I want to see my husband.”
“Everything will be fine,” Iris reassured her, “a wizard is no good in the birthing chamber, Iris and Madame Pomphrey will be taking care of you.”
“I’ll be right back, Iris,” Madame Pomphrey said after checking Morgan over thoroughly, “I need to make sure that Potter took his sleeping draught and is being left alone so that he can get his rest.” She let herself out of the bedroom and nearly ran straight into the potion’s master. “Severus,” she nodded at him politely, “I’ll be back to check on Morgan directly, I just need to see to Potter once more.”
“And why would you need to check on Morgan?” Severus shrugged off his robes and his frock coat. It had been the most exhausting day of his life. Voldemort had returned, and he would once again have to take up spying on the dark lord.
“Oh, you wouldn’t know, would you? The poor dear has been in labor all afternoon, sitting here with no one but a house elf for company. She was asking for you, and I assured her that as soon as we deliver that child and get them both cleaned up you’ll be in to see her.”
Severus turned on the mediwitch, his face dark with anger, “she’s been alone this whole time and when she asks for me you refused her?!”
“Now Severus, you know as well as I do that a wizard does not belong in a birthing chamber. It simply isn’t done…”
Severus swept by her throwing the door to his and Morgan’s bedroom open and marched purposefully to his wife’s side. The first thing he noticed was her tears.
“I wanted you so badly,” Morgan choked out as her husband pushed Iris out of the way and pulled a chair up to the side of the bed.
“I’m here now,” he said gently. Everything else seemed to melt away, Voldemort, Potter, Moody, and the cursed imposter. “The Baron told me I’d best get down here as soon as I was able.” He brushed her tears away with the back of his hand. “And no matter what Poppy says, I am not leaving this room.” He stayed by her side for the entire process, receiving glares and threats from Poppy and allowing Morgan to cling to his hand as tightly as she could. Until, at last, the first cry of their child filled the room.
Poppy swept it away to be cleaned before giving either parent a chance to look at it or to even find out if it was healthy or the sex. Severus dabbed at Morgan’s forehead with a cool cloth, while glaring at Poppy’s turned back.
The mediwitch finally returned, the newborn wrapped in a snowy white blanket. “A perfectly healthy daughter, even if she did decide to grace us with her presence a few weeks early.” As per tradition, she offered the child to Severus first. As patriarch, it was his prerogative to either except the child, and officially claim her as his own, or to renounce her.
Although he scowled at the prospect of holding the infant, he took her from Poppy’s arms and spoke the traditional words that announced that he accepted that the child was legitimately his and that he would care and provide for her. As quickly as he was able he passed their daughter into Morgan’s waiting arms.
“She’s perfect,” Morgan whispered as she set to memorizing every single detail about her child.
“We will name her Viviane,” Severus announced after a minute, “it is an old family name.”
Morgan seriously considered protesting the name choice solely based on the high handed manner in which Severus had decided on it without consulting her, but she liked the way it sounded. “Just remember,” she told him with a frown, “I’m the one that has to carry the child for nine months and deliver it. You’ll consult me before naming any more children that we may have.”
Severus merely raised an eyebrow at this demand, but didn’t feel the need to comment on it. He stood back and watched as the house elves set up the cradle and changed the bed linens and helped Morgan to wash up.
As soon as Poppy and the house elves left the new parents for the night, Severus climbed onto the bed next to his wife, being careful not to jostle her, and took their daughter back into his arms. Morgan had fed her for the first time, and now Viviane had fallen asleep.
Morgan watched her husband watching their daughter sleep in his arms. His face was so open right then, so relaxed… “I love you Severus,” the words came out before she could think about whether she should say them or not.
Severus looked over at his wife, the beginnings of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. He leaned over and kissed her. “Thank you for my daughter.”
Morgan felt her heart tighten when he didn’t say the words back to her. But tried to brush past it as quickly as she could. “Are you upset that she isn’t the son you wanted?”
Severus looked back down at his daughter, “not in the slightest,” he answered honestly.