—————S—————

"Hey Dad," Aurora said cheerily as she came into his lab.

"Happy birthday, Aurora," he said with a bit too much resignation.

"Thank you," she said, sitting on a stool. He stared at her, trying to decipher why she was so cheerful.

It might have been that Longbottom finally got the nerve to ask her to court. It had been an amusing afternoon when the young man came knocking on his office door. Even more so when he'd asked for Hermione first, going deathly pale when he was informed she was unavailable. But he did have to give the boy credit. He actually didn't run the words together this time, unlike when he'd asked Aurora to the Yule Ball.

But the boy had requested permission months ago, practically at the start of term. Severus had kept Longbottom's request to himself and Hermione, not wanting Aurora to feel like she had to encourage or gently let the boy down before he got the nerve to ask.

"You're in a pleasant mood," he noted.

"Am I not allowed to be? Is there a rule that says one must always be sullen at sixteen?"

"Watch the cheek. And no, I just find you uncharacteristically cheerful given the time of day."

"I passed out on my bed just after nine o'clock and slept until about forty minutes ago," she replied and seeing as how it was just after nine-thirty in the morning, Severus could understand his daughter's pertness. "Apparently, Quidditch is good for insomnia."

"Is it? I'll keep that in mind. May I have your hand, please?" he said, extending his own right hand.

"Sure, what do you need my—ow! Dad, what the bloody hell was that for?"

He smirked as he levitated the droplet of blood from her finger and brought it over to the potion sitting on his work bench. The potion that very quickly wiped the smirk off his face and he had to force himself to not cringe when thinking about Aurora consuming it.

A contraceptive potion.

Hermione's allergy to the standard was something they had easily worked around. The charm, while not as effective, was a good enough replacement when cast properly. And it had done the job and kept them child-free for the time they'd wanted. But whether or not Aurora had inherited her mother's allergy to the potion was something he'd been putting off testing for what might have been too long. He could have, perhaps, kidded himself into believing that she was still too young. He'd nearly done it when she and Fred Weasley spent three months together, figuring if they had lasted that long, then the prankster was serious in his affections for Aurora. He let it slip his mind when their break-up happened, and barely allowed it a passing thought when Longbottom sought his permission.

But then Minerva complained over breakfast about needing to deduct fifty points from her own house for catching Weasley and Miss Brown in a compromising position. She also requested that he cover their detentions. And while the prospect of doing so gave him some cheer, a long list of disgusting or laboring tasks coming to mind to punish them with, the reality that a friend of his daughter was engaging in such an activity meant that there was a distinct possibility that she might do the same thing. Be it with Longbottom or someone else, he didn't want to know, but the reality was she was the age he and Hermione were when they first had done it.

He watched the drop of blood hit the potion and waited for the adverse reaction.

Nothing happened.

It was both a relief and disappointment.

"Dad?" Aurora asked, and he looked up at her.

"You don't have the allergy your mother does," he said, turning around and retrieving six more bottles of the contraceptive. "Take the first the next time you start your menses, and a new one every two months afterward."

Aurora frowned as she took the bottles from him, then really looked at them. Her eyes widened. "Dad, I, what? Why? Why are you... I'm not even ready."

"Good," he said. "It's what every father wants to hear, just short of hearing that you want to join a nunnery. But the fact of the matter is, you're at the age in which sexual intercourse becomes much more common, and while I would prefer to believe you would never do such a thing, I'm also not an idiot. Take the potion, Rory. Even if you have no one now, there'll come a time when you will, and you'll be ready. And don't share it with anyone else."

"Yeah. Pretty sure the idea of asking Professor Snape's daughter for contraceptive potions is something no one would ever do."

"And where do you think Aunt Poppy gets them?"

"For everyone else, it's a matter of plausible deniability. They think Aunt Poppy brews them, or buys them from St. Mungo's, or they magically appear in the infirmary to be available upon request, should the typical dunderhead not realize fifth year potion's kit has everything they need to brew it." When she stopped for breath, and he stared at her, Aurora shrugged. "My friends aren't dunderheads, and I'm fairly certain Ginny's already brewed her first dose. And Luna might have mentioned someone in Ravenclaw doing the same."

"At least it's Miss Weasley and not her brother," he grumbled. "I at least can have some confidence in her brewing skill."

"She's dating Uncle Ollie," Aurora blurted.

"Aurora, it's far too early for teenage gossip," he said, waving her away so he could, perhaps, sneak back into his rooms and nurse a whiskey before lunch.

"It's family gossip," she retorted, placing five of the small vials down on the counter and uncorking the sixth.

"Then go tell your mother," Severus retorted before frowning. "What are you doing?"

"You said take it the first day of—"

He held up his hand. "Aurora..." he said in a warning tone.

She smirked, then swigged it back. "It's best to do this in front of you regardless of the test. Maybe something else causes the reactions."

He gave her a half smile for thinking clearly, watching his daughter, his beautiful, smart, vibrant daughter as she waited for the potion to kick in. "It's disgustingly sweet," she said conversationally.

"So I've been told," he agreed.

"Well," she said after about a minute. "I think it's safe to say I am, in fact, allergy-free."

"So you are," he conceded.

"I'll see you and Mum later, then?"

"You and your entourage should be in our chambers by five o'clock. Anyone late won't be admitted."

She smirked, then surprised him by coming to his side and kissing his cheek. "Later, Daddy," she said, collecting her potions and leaving.

Daddy. Oh, he must have looked positively miserable for her to have used that title. With a heavy sigh, Severus headed back to his rooms, a firewhisky or two calling his name, as he knew there was much more to prepare for than merely an evening with his daughter and her friends.

—————H—————

"Alastor," Hermione greeted the one-eyed wizard, and he smiled at her.

"H.," he said, hobbling past her. "How's Hogwarts?"

"Limiting," she replied, following him into the sitting area. "Albus wants me to teach, of course, but it's pretty much just becoming a review of the last couple years. He doesn't seem to understand that they need to learn, regardless of who is doing the teaching."

"How're Potter and the rest?" he asked.

"They are, admittedly, above and beyond. But then, they were actually learning, and there are some things Remus taught Harry, that Severus taught him in passing, that Harry has shown the others. You taught us about Patronuses in our fifth year, but it was only really Severus who could almost cast a fully corporeal one. He's powerful, so I suppose that isn't too much of a surprise. But Alastor, all of these kids can produce a Patronus. All of them. They faced Death Eaters at the Ministry and they survived. They need more advanced lessons, but Albus won't let me. Or Severus. Or bloody anyone, though he has been giving Harry special lessons."

"We know what they are?" Alastor asked as they entered the sitting area.

"Why, our esteemed leader is teaching my sixteen-year-old all about Tom Riddle," Sirius said as he leaned back on the sofa, the space between him and Severus empty as they enjoyed some of the latter's whiskey. "Harry wrote to me about it. Everything about Riddle's history, starting from what Dumbledore knew of his life prior to Hogwarts." He sipped his whiskey. "I'm not sure if he's trying to get Harry to understand him or sympathize with him."

Severus scoffed. "He still believes Lily's love protected him all this time. I'll concede that Lily's final act was quite likely a shielding spell strong enough to guard against even the Killing Curse. She died for Harry to protect him. Or it could have been something as simple as wards on the crib. Runes carved on it that we never saw. Hagrid was the one who got to him, and frankly, without Harry there, I wouldn't have thought to look at it."

"What's left of the house now?" Sirius asked.

"The house is ash," Remus said from the kitchenette, fixing himself a cup of tea. "I went there not long after you'd gone to Azkaban. The place is dust, nothing but the shell of the first floor left."

Severus frowned. "So, someone set it on fire after I left."

"I suppose someone did," Hermione said as she sat down between her husband and their friend, Alastor taking the chair, leaving the loveseat for Remus and the delayed Minerva.

"Could've been anyone." Alastor waved it off. "Anyone at any time. A regular witch or wizard trying to burn the place Riddle bit the dust or a Death Eater trying to bring back their Lord."

Minerva appeared through the fireplace then, dusting herself off. She glanced at the men just as Remus came over to hand Moody a tumbler of whiskey before taking a seat.

"Have I already missed the important discussions?" she asked, gesturing to the liquor. "Or is Severus mourning?"

"What you lose?" Alastor asked.

"The ability to believe my daughter is young and innocent," he replied, leaning his head back. "She can take contraceptive potion."

"Own fault on that one, ain't it?" Alastor smirked.

Severus lifted his head. "Better to know she's taking that than find out she's been impregnated by some dunderhead."

"At least that's one thing I've never had to worry about." Sirius smiled.

"Harry could still—" Remus started.

"Harry's with Draco," Sirius cut him off. "And I would bet my house that if those two make it through the war, they're going to spend the rest of their lives together."

"What did you want to talk about, Severus?" Minerva asked, taking a seat next to Remus and cutting off any argument they may have had.

"A few things, actually," he said, leaning forward to set his whiskey down on the coffee table, steepling his hands between his knees. "We're facing what will probably be one of the most dangerous undertakings Albus has concocted yet: his own death. The fact that we were able to counter Miss Bell's curse leads me to think that, with time and research, we could do the same for Albus. However, I don't think he would allow it."

"He hasn't said anything 'bout it yet," Alastor replied. "Makes me think he wants to die."

"Which seems a bit odd since he wanted so desperately to become the Master of Death once," Severus replied, and Hermione was certain she wasn't the only one in the room looking at him in confusion or disbelief. "He and Grindelwald were partners, or has he made everyone conveniently forget that he was once a rising Dark Lord himself?"

"I remember," Alastor said.

"I never knew," Remus said.

Sirius whistled. "Neither did I. I thought he defeated Grindelwald."

"He did," Hermione replied. "In 1945, Dumbledore finally confronted Grindelwald. Dumbledore won the duel and imprisoned him. But it was only because of Dumbledore's sister's death, Ariana, that he turned completely against Grindelwald. Before then, the two were reported to have... well, to have acted like a pair of Death Eaters. Muggle-baiting, torture, believing that witches and wizards were superior over non-magical beings, and that the Statute of Secrecy needed to be eliminated, and a hierarchy be put in place for... for the greater good."

"They were also obsessed with wizarding lore, namely the Deathly Hallows. They believed possessing all three items would make them the Master of Death," Severus added.

"Okay, let's put aside the Hallows for now," Remus said, shaking his head and pinching his nose. "You're saying that Albus Dumbledore was once a man who wanted precisely what the Dark Lord is trying to achieve now? And we're all following him..."

"Like puppy dogs?" Severus said, eyebrow twitching. "Why yes, I believe most of the Order is."

"We'll get back ta Dumbledore's intentions another time," Alastor said. "He don't want us knowing he's going to bite it, let alone help, so what's on yer mind, Snape?"

"How much danger we're all in," he said bluntly, and Hermione reached over and placed her hand on his knee. "The fact that he refuses to tell the Order means he expects one of two things: that either I will die very shortly after his demise, because he thinks everyone will believe I was truly working for the Dark Lord after all and go for my head. Or the Order will splinter, and I'm willing to bet he believes that if that happens, the side that will believe me guilty will have the greater numbers."

"That's your neck on the line," Remus said. "What about ours?"

"Hermione's his wife," Minerva said. "She'd be considered a traitor by association."

"And if this execution has an audience, there will be no one from the light willing to let me and mine walk away unscathed. Even faking ignorance as I walk out with a bunch of Death Eaters, could be risky. You'll either be thought a traitor like your dear friend Peter, or you blow my cover, in which case you'll fail to receive valuable information."

"So, what're ya suggesting?" Alastor asked.

"Liquid Luck," Severus replied. "Just enough to get us through that night, and also a small vial for each of the children for their own protection."

"All right." Alastor nodded. "Suppose that could help. But still don't see how all of us need it, not just you and the missus."

"Because I believe there will be an audience and that Dumbledore will ask you all there to witness me turning sides. I want to propose a plan, but it has risks. And, of course, requires a lot of misdirection, especially for Order members who don't know the truth, and shouldn't until after Dumbledore's death."

"Why not let the others know now?" Minerva asked.

"Do you really believe Molly will be able to keep her opinion to herself?" Sirius asked, not unkindly. "She would go nearly blue when Harry or Ron would mention Hermione once it was discovered that H. is Hermione. She doesn't like the idea that her youngest children have been preparing for war and that they've been vocal about learning things no fifteen or sixteen-year-old should know, and let's not even get into her opinion on how we are raising our own teenagers. If she knew the truth about Dumbledore, she'd have something to say about it. If she knew the plan for him, she would have a conniption."

"Well that's Molly, but I always thought Arthur wise enough to understand the nuances."

"Perhaps, but he ain't really stealthy. Got too many tells, that one," Alastor announced.

"Kingsley would keep quiet, but he'd also have a hard time simply letting Albus pass on," Sirius conceded.

"And how would you know how Kingsley would take it?" Remus asked.

"I suppose that depends," Sirius retorted. "Can you say how Tonks would react?"

"Yes," Remus said, his tone suggesting he was ready to argue his point.

"Precisely."

There was a knock on the office doors, and everyone looked at one another.

"I suppose that means time's up," Hermione mused, glancing at the clock on the mantel as Severus rose to answer the door. "It's nearly time for the children to show up, and that's probably one of them now."

"I ain't staying for a party," Alastor said as he got up.

"Oh, Al, lighten up. You sat through Hermione's sixteenth," Minerva chided as she stood.

Alastor hesitated. "Who all?"

"Harry, Draco, the Weasley children, Luna Lovegood, and Neville Longbottom."

"Longbottom?" he said, mulling it over. "Suppose I can get a good look at the kid."

"Good, because once they're all occupied, I wanted to talk to you about a plan I had for a Defense lesson."

—————A—————

"Are you ready to head down?" Aurora asked Neville, who startled quite badly at her question. He quickly closed his Herbology book, grimacing when the parchment filled with notes stuck between the pages. "I might know a spell that'll remove the ink," she said. "My dad taught me."

"Really? Won't it... won't it remove all the ink?" Neville asked, glancing at the book apprehensively.

"No, you just need to specify the color. Our inkwells are filled with black, the texts are usually written in either dark blue, gray, or green." She shrugged. "You should see how often Mum has to remove things from her books. It's quite amusing, really, when you consider that my father writes notes in margins and she loathes pages being written on. Well, except that one book."

"One book?" Neville asked, standing, heading toward the common room door with her. Most of the Gryffindors were out in the Great Hall or socializing. She hadn't seen Harry at all that day, and Ginny had gone to get Luna just before Aurora found Neville.

"Yeah," Aurora said as they stepped out. "Mum says it's the most romantic gift she's ever gotten from him, and it's from before they even had their first date. A copy of Jane Eyre , with Dad's commentary all throughout. She still has it, with all the little herbs and flowers he stuffed in it."

"What made it so romantic?" Neville asked as they slowly ventured down the stairs, his hands stuffed in his pockets as Aurora rested her hand on the banister.

"Well, I think it was the fact that he underlined a passage that resonated with him. And it was during the proposal scene. I'm not sure, really. I suppose I don't quite share their idea of romance."

"And, uh, wh-what is your idea? Of romance, I mean?" he asked, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath. "I mean, the box Fred made..."

"And ended up selling," she reminded him. "Though, to his credit, I did say he could. And it isn't identical to the one he made me," she sighed, pondering. "I'm not sure. One would think that my parents are the prime example: friends who fell for one another, stayed together through what would have torn many apart. They had faith in one another, that they would always be together. And they have, they've weathered so many storms. And it's wonderful, but... I don't know."

"Well that's helpful," Neville mumbled, and Aurora glanced at him, wondering if he realized she'd heard him. "So, get any mail today?" he asked after the silence lingered too long, and Aurora watched as Neville's face twisted in agony and his hand nearly rose to palm his disheartened expression.