The MultiFandom MPREG Archive

"What do you expect - I'm pregnant, you stupid piece of glass!"

Snape stared in the mirror . He was doing more of that these days . Not because he was looking better.

He pulled on the heavy hooded robes that he *refused* to think of as maternity wear, whatever the Headmaster may have quipped. Long, deep cuffed sleeves draped over his puffy fingers, falling almost to his aching feet. Perhaps the worst possible garb for a potions laboratory - but at least the heavy hem covered the quilted slippers he was forced to wear. Not that he was getting *in* to his lab. Not without at least one Imperious - and possibly a few Kadavra's - aimed at that damn Weasley the Headmaster had hired as his `teaching assistant'.

Snape found himself reduced to lecturing these days. Which required actually *speaking* to his students. Not the brightest prospect at the best of times.

"Pregnancy only makes you *more* beautiful", his mirror recited, more dutifully then convincingly.

Damn Dumbledore for enchanting the thing.

He preferred his mirrors silent. Or at least truthful. This one was converted to `positive feedback'.

That might be true - given the low aesthetic level from which he had started - but he doubted that any amount of `glow' could compensate for the golf ball embedded on his left cheek.

Snape patted the bulge... gingerly.

When he had first realized his condition he had... not panicked. A Snape never panicked. And compared to facing down Voldemort and the full circle of DeathEaters a mere conception - even his own - was.... frankly terrifying.

"Poppy. How can...?" He apparently hadn't kept all the emotion out of his voice, because the mediwitch was patting his hand and lowering him into a waiting chair.

"If you want to... terminate... then..."

"No!" Severus has shocked himself with his vehemence. He did *not* want to be pregnant but.... It was... It was his... It was a *SNAPE*. He couldn't just... kill it.

But he also couldn't.. well, he didn't think it was possible to grow a twenty pound wart on one's nose. Even a Snape-sized nose. The very idea was preposterous.

He coughed. Mostly to force his voice down to it's usual baritone.

"You'll have to move it, of course." Preferably into some sort of flask or jar. Perhaps one of the thermal glass cauldrons used for hatching salamander eggs. He could tuck it in behind the class three restricted ingredients in his personal laboratory and...

"I'm sorry , Severus." Pomfrey had given up hand patting and shifted to shoulder rubs. The sign of a near- terminal diagnosis. "The spell doesn't work like that..."

So... on his face baby-boy-Snape had started - and on his face baby-boy-Snape would remain. Visibly. According to `What to Expect When you Didn't Expect to be Expecting' , glamours and illusions charms were not safe after the first trimester.

(The Restricted Section had a surprising knack of producing the right reference book for *any* occurrence. As if by magic. Which - mostly likely - it was. )

Buck up, he told himself. Look on the bright side. (Which some of his misinformed colleagues swore that he never did. HA! ) The hundred points Dumbledore had... after discussion .. allowed him to take from Longbottom had put Slytherin House back in the running for the house cup.

Not as gratifying as actual defenestration - but then - One couldn't have everything.

A year's maternity leave ( assuming Voldemort was not merely dead, but most sincerely dead - thus placing life beyond Hogswarts in the survivable category ) would give him the chance to finish that paper on Newt/Gecko dosage equivalences he had been promising himself. And? Snape brushed his hair forward. One more layer of veil between him and an intolerable world. The house of Snape would survive into the next generation. Something that had been looking less and less probable as his social life vanished into the mists of not-very-satisfying memory. Not that he would not have preferred the ivy covered cottage and some sweet little witch who... no, no be honest Snape knew he couldn't endure a sweet little witch for the nine months necessary to gestate a Snape heir. Likely not even for the three minutes or so it would require to start the project. Not that any sweet little witches had very been there to volunteer.

Oh well - moot point now.

Tucking his wand securely inside it's sleeve holster, he swept ( well staggered) into the great hall.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Any idea who the.... father.. .is?" The ministry medi-clerk was clearly struggled to keep his voice professionally non-judgemental. A losing battle - but for once Snape found himself appreciating the effort.

Pregnancy must be making him soft.

"This was hardly a planned pregnancy." Snape tried to convince the little voice in his head that his response was cold. Sneering. Superior. Perhaps - the voice snapped back - but it sounded closer to panic.

Merlin! Any of.... twenty male students - Slytherin or Gryffindor - who had failed to wash their hands. Hades! Given that only one cell was required - he could not totally eliminate the female students. Or - he shuddered at the thought - any of the faculty who might have borrowed - or lent - a quill. Touched a text.

It had been rather amusing, the last few weeks. Watching schoolboys scramble to avoid him. Not that they didn't normally - but now ? Faced with the prospect of Snape naming them on the Paternity Rolls? Blast Ended Skrewets moved slower.

That was the up side. The down side?

This travesty. A ministry delegation - complete with medi-wizard, recording clerk, and Auror witness - here to cast the official Paternis.

"I'm required to ask. Strong opinions can invalidate this spell." the Clerk tried for a collegial chuckle. It came out closer to bronchitis. Or embarrassment. Snape was glad to see he wasn't the only one here suffering. "You wouldn't want that, would you?"

"No." Snape answered automatically.

He didn't want any part of this. Well, not except possibly the end result. Perhaps. Eventually. So how could.....

Wait a minute.

A bright beam of cunning shot though the murk of hormonal emotion.

Think like a a Slytherin. Who *did* he want - or not want - the sire to be?

Blessed Morgana - not Goyle. Or Crabbe. He didn't want his child to be an idiot.

Well, of course, HIS child wouldn't be. His child would be brilliant.

Not Weasley. Snape didn't think he could face another red-haired menace. Not when he was so close to being quit of them.

Or- Dear Nimue - not Granger. He *had* been a DeathEater. Repentant or not - he wasn't certain he wanted a half-blood child. Although? The bushy haired menace WAS a witch. A powerful one. And there was something to be said for two sexes in a family. Something - but not enough. Especially as one of those sexes was one he had never much had a taste for.

Potter? Never! Even if he had grown into late-blooming shaggability. Dark Lord or no Dark Lord, the brat had the life expectancy of a fruit fly. Not to mention the chivalry to marry Snape and `give the child a name." Dragon shit! He wasn't going though this for someone else's house - that child would be a SNAPE!

Zambini- no.

Parkinson - *please* no.

Longbottom - HELL no.

Draco? Not so bad. Snape allowed himself a half-second's happy contemplation on silver hair and gray eyes. Pink lips. Long legs. Firm arse. And the inheritance. There was the inheritance. The Ministry fines on Lucius wouldn't dent the families true wealth. Plus... Dumbledore might be able to get the fines reduced - even forgiven - as a sort of `wedding present'.

Still... the name issue.

They could always hyphenate. Snape-Malfoy. Malfoy-Snape?

No. Lucius would kill him . Of course - as Lucius was currently in Azkaban?

Then Narcissia would kill him.

Pity - Draco and he would have pretty children.

Child. He was having only ONE child. If that. He was nervous about the process as it was. Still - if Molly Weasley could manage matters?

Draco clearly preferred women... but? That didn't have to doom the relationship. Malfoy's were hardly monogamous the best of times. Snape would have to be... somewhat faithful... at least while the child was young.

But as he'd been going without about as long as Draco had been alive?

The choice was obvious.

"......velatto" The Ministry Official had evidently cast the charm while Snape's attention had been distracted.

*pleasepleaseplease* The voice in Snape's head blurred to a wordless whimper.

Pink and blue lines of light whirled over Snape's expanded abdomen, spangled into a shower of silver sparks, then shot up to form rune sigils over their heads.

"Mal..." The mediwitch squinted at the display. "Do you know a Draco Malfoy?"

For the first time in twenty years, Snape had the serious desire to *kiss* someone.

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