The Escaping Guest
Saturday, August 2008 – Late Morning
Adjunct Professor Hermione Granger ran through the corridors of Hogwarts wearing chartreuse socks and an exasperated expression. The giggling three-year-old escapee peeked from around the corner ahead, then ducked away, scooting down the next passage.
"You get back here!" Hermione yelled, regretting the socks immediately as she whipped around the corner onto an unusually slick corridor.
Headmaster Snape, who was riding his circular stairs to the floor below, was puzzled. What was his temporary Professor of Transfiguration shrieking at now? Ah, he thought, memory flashing back to Professor Granger’s pronouncement after staying behind at a recent staff meeting.
“Headmaster, I will be entertaining a guest next weekend, Friday night through Sunday evening; I have no school obligations scheduled at that time. Is there something formal I’m required to fill out and sign, or is notifying you enough?”
Severus’ shock at her words may not have been apparent, but his brusqueness was immediately noticed—at his closed-off expression, Professor Granger frowned slightly as she took a step back.
“There is nothing to sign, Granger, and as long as all rules and regulations are adhered to, we shan’t have a problem. Now, I have a meeting shortly, so if you could be on your way…?” The Headmaster spun on his heel and turned away. “I won’t tolerate snogging all over the castle,” he barked, “And keep him out of my sight!”
Severus Snape disappeared into his private sitting room, leaving his Transfiguration professor standing alone in the middle of his office, her eyes wide and mouth open in surprise.
Hermione turned slowly, mouthing the word “snogging?” as she glanced at Phineas Nigellus Black’s portrait, but the old Headmaster shrugged in reply as she pulled open the heavily carved office door.
"Albus! You stop RIGHT NOW, or I'm going to tan your hide!"
Eyebrows rose as he reached the last step—the old Headmaster had settled in for his afternoon nap long before Severus had begun his descent.
"No!" Albus cried, looking over his shoulder to see his Auntie coming around the corner. "Want dun-jin, want DUN-JIN!" Turning back ‘round, his little stomping legs carried him only a few steps further before colliding with the black-clad appendages of the Headmaster—Albus Potter plopped noisily onto his bum with an “oomph”.
"I beg your pardon," the Headmaster said gravely, gazing down upon the dark-haired child on his boots. The boy scowled up at him and scrambled to his feet, hiding from his Auntie behind Severus' long legs.
Meanwhile, Hermione’s graceless slide had greatly endangered her ability to stop. When the Headmaster glanced back to his temporary Transfiguration professor, he ended up with an armful of flailing, frustrated witch face-planted onto his chest. He grasped her shoulders as he steadied them both, barely managing to keep them from falling onto the little imp hiding behind him.
Hermione sighed as she clutched his robes for balance; why was he always the one to catch her in these awkward situations? The day she’d arrived, he’d found her screeching her head off because Peeves had drenched her with a bucket of ice water not thirty seconds after she’d stepped through the castle doors. That one had actually been worth the embarrassment because shortly afterwards, she'd captured Peeves in a stasis balloon, attached a string and left him bobbing around the Great Hall for a week—a gleeful target for every professor, ghost, house elf, and gust of wind. Three days later, Hermione’d ploughed into Severus as she stomped away from Greenhouse Four, where the venomous tentacula Neville was tending had decided it was madly in love with her floral shirt. Neville had been chasing after her, apologising profusely, and Severus had had to loan her his cloak—she’d run into him wearing a somewhat racy black and green bra barely covered by the fluttering tatters of her shredded blouse.
She flinched as she glanced up at him and mouthed a weary “Sorry again, Severus” at his dangerously angled brow. Gods, she sighed—she wished he was giving her that look for any other reason but this. Finally, steady on her feet, she stepped away from him and stuck her hands on her hips, glaring down at the tiny human attached to his leg.
"No tan, no hide," Albus said grumpily, clutching Severus' pant legs in both fists. Hermione pressed her lips together but didn’t say anything. "Whazzat?"
"Whazzat what, Albus?" she asked in exasperation, rolling her eyes.
"Whazzat 'tan you hide'?" he asked, taking a small step away from the legs defending him. Quick on the uptake, Albus was deftly scooped up by his Auntie and dropped onto her hip in a tick.
When she grasped his little chin and gave it a little shake, bopping his nose with hers, Severus couldn’t keep an amused smile from the corner of his mouth. "It means I'm going to smack your little arse if you escape again, Albus," she replied, frowning at him.
Immediately, Albus had two chubby hands covering her mouth and nose, eyes wide in alarm. "Bad word, Auntie Mia! Bad, bad word! You has’ta put moneys in da Swears Jar now!" He twisted and looked at the Headmaster, recognising him as someone in charge, and asked, "Where's you Swears Jar?"
"I'm deeply sorry to say, Mr Potter," Severus replied, gently prying his little fingers away from his suffocating Transfiguration professor, "That we don't have a Swear Jar at Hogwarts. It seems it might be beneficial, though," he said with a small smile in Hermione's direction, "So I shall take the idea under advisement."
Albus rolled his head back and giggled. "He called me Mr Potter, Auntie, tha’s daddy's name!" He looked at Severus. "My name is Albus Seberus Potter, waz you name?"
The Headmaster raised an eyebrow, flicked a glance at Hermione, and said, "My name is Severus Graeme Snape. I am the Headmaster at Hogwarts." He held out his hand, and Albus stuck his little hand into Severus' long-fingered grasp, and they shook solemnly.
"Hey! I's named apter you!" Albus crowed.
Severus nodded. "That appears to be an accurate assumption," he replied, glancing again at Hermione, who nodded in agreement.
"Mummy and Da says you is bery brave. I am bery brave, too!"
"Yes, indeed, I believe you must be... Your Auntie appears to be quite ferocious." Albus giggled and nodded his head fervently. The Headmaster thought for a moment. "Would you like to meet the other person you're named after?"
"Albus Bubbledoor?! He's dead, you know. Does he have a po'trit?"
“Yes, he certainly does,” Severus agreed, chuckling at the mispronunciation.
"Uncle Sirius has a po'trit... Sometimes he be’s bery funny, but moatsa times he's just dumb and a big grumpy tattle-tale. I like Uncle Remus po'trit better. Can we see Uncle Albus now?" he asked, leaning away from a grinning Hermione, holding his arms out to the momentarily surprised man.
Severus, recovering quickly, plucked the boy readily from Hermione's surprised arms and settled him on his own hip. "Yes, of course, we can." He turned and looked at Hermione with a slight grimace. “I take it this is the gentleman visitor that you were expecting?”
Her eyebrow rose, mimicking his own. “Yes, Severus, the one I was trying to tell you about… the one you insisted I not snog all over the castle.” She gave him a faux glare before rolling her eyes.
“Snog,” Albus sounded out, “Snog, snog, snog…whazzat?”
“Gods,” Hermione mumbled, “I can hardly get two consecutive sentences out before there’s a ‘Whazzat, Auntie Mia, whazzat? Whazzat?’…” She sighed, sliding a hand down her face. “Watch that smirk, Severus,” she growled, eyeing the twitch of his lips. “Snogging is another word for kissing, Albus.”
“You mean like dis?” He leaned over, put his chubby hands on her cheeks and gave her a loud smack on the lips.
She chuckled and pinched his little cheek. “Nooo, snogging is when there’s a LOT of kissing, all at once, like….” She grimaced and shrugged her shoulders at the Headmaster, who was trying to keep a straight face.
“Like Mummy and Da when they’s cookin’ dinners in da kitchen!” Albus nodded knowingly.
“Exactly!” Hermione said with a laugh.
“Oooh, you gotsa be carefoo wif da snog, Auntie Mia.”
“Why is that, Al?”
“My Da tol’ me da snog makes babies, and if you don’t wants dem, dey is bery hard to gib away,” Albus replied, nodding thoughtfully. “I tol’ Mummy to gib Lily away ‘cause she was smelly and screamin’ allatime. Mummy says apter you has dem, you can neber, neber give babies away.” He sighed dramatically and shrugged. “Can we see Albus Bubbledoor now?”
After this explanation, Hermione and Severus stared at each other, and she murmured, “Oh, my lord…” Then, there was smothered laughter as they stepped to the gargoyle at the entrance of the Headmaster's stairway. Severus quietly instructed Albus on what to do while his little head nodded vigorously up and down. Albus slapped the top of the gargoyle's head, yelled the password, "Hunnysuckoo!" and gripped Severus hard around the neck as his wide eyes watched the steps start to move. “Wow..,” he whispered.
"Ready?" When Albus nodded, Severus stepped onto an ascending stair and off they went; Albus was enthralled.
"C'mon, Auntie Mia, c'mon!" he cried, waving his chubby arms over Severus’ shoulders. Hermione stepped onto a step and smiled softly at the sight of the two of them until, as they rounded a curve, she heard Severus murmuring in Albus’ ear, “I think Uncle Sirius is a dumb, grumpy tattle-tale, too.”
"Severus!" The man in question smirked down at her, and Albus watched as Auntie Mia took a couple of steps up and smacked the recalcitrant Headmaster on the arm.
"Gotsa be carefoo, Uncle Seberus," Albus whispered loudly, "She's a mean one!"
"Albus, you little devil!" Hermione choked out, trying not to laugh. Severus Snape, however, chuckled all the way up to his office door.