Flour Baby

Disclaimer: Aside from the babies, the characters are not my own. I don’t own Harry Potter. Not DH compliant.

Warning: This story well heavily reflect the bitterness of my experience with the terror that is ‘Baby Think It Over®’ or as I fondly remember it, Baby-I-haven’t-sleep-in-a-week-and-I-want-you-accidently-fall-in-the-tub,-shortout-and-die-I-failed-my-calculus-test-because-of-you! It is a big part of the reason I never want to have children. Ever.

Additional Warning: SLASH, little bit of sex, mPreg-ish in a later chapter

Background: If you managed to be so lucky as to not have had the program in your high school, ‘Baby Think It Over®’ is an aptly named electronic baby which simulates the daily pattern of a real baby (i.e. cries a lot). During the time you have this plastic baby, which is the same size, weight, and appearance of a real baby, you have a key strapped to your wrist which can not be removed (not unlike the bracelet convicts have to wear) this key must be inserted in the baby when it cries. If the baby isn’t key-ed within a minute of when it starts crying, or you accidentally close the baby in the door of a car, the baby’s sensors record that and the class instructor gets that information at the end of your time with the baby, showing if the baby was neglected or handled roughly.

Note: Infant development is rather abstract in this story, it is a magical, fake baby growing at a magical, fake rate.

Now, finally, on with the show…

Chapter One: She Smiled

OooOooOooOo Thursday: Day 1 oOooOooOooO

It was spitting rain, not enough to warrant an umbrella or raincoat, but enough to make their school robes damp and beads of water collect on their hair and eyelashes.

Harry laughed, chasing Ron down the path towards the Care of Magical Creatures enclosure; their trainers sliding on the loose pebbles as they struggled to keep their balance without slowing down. They were late – again. It was Hagrid’s class, so they knew they wouldn’t be in too much trouble, but the half-giant had disclosed to them on their last visit that they were getting new magical creatures to take care of today - and the last ones to class always ended up with the ugliest or most mean-tempered specimens.

When they arrived, the rest of the class was huddled miserably under a tree, trying to keep dry and warm. Hagrid, not affected by the weather in the least, was standing in front of them; a wheelbarrow covered in a coarse, brown blanket was beside him. Perhaps most notably, was the presence of the school nurse, Madame Pomfrey, standing on Hagrid’s other side, a large, floppy, white rain hat perched on her grey curls.

“’Arry, Ron, ‘urry up now, yar late.” Hagrid rebuked, spying them sneaking into the group. “Ev’ryone’s already picked partners for the next project. One of you’s with Neville.”

Harry and Ron quickly exchanged looks. Being partnered with Neville almost guaranteed a drop of a grade or a serious injury of some sort; unless it was Herbology, the one course Neville mysteriously excelled at.

Harry gave Ron a pointed look, reminding him that Harry had been the last to work with Neville in Muggle studies, a class which used no magic and yet Longbottom had managed to singe his eyebrows off.

Ron groaned under his breath and then stepped up. “Me. I’ll go with Neville.” The lanky redhead walked over to stand by his new partner and Harry scanned the group, hoping his partner wasn’t one of the Slytherin.

“All right, ‘Arry, looks like you’ll be working alone then.”

“Alone?” Harry grimaced and then reminded himself it still might be better than working with Neville.

“Now. I’m sure yar all eager to meet the new magical creatures we’re gon’ta be working with.” Hagrid began. “This unit is gon’ta be supervised by both Madame Pomfrey and myself.”

Immediately there were nervous whispers in the group. Harry was more excited than nervous. It would have to be a pretty dangerous creature if the nurse had to be on hand. He was up for some excitement.

“Poppy, if you’d like ta do the honours?”

“Why, of course, Mister Hagrid.” Madame Pomfrey pulled the blanket off with a flourish, revealing a pile of bald, plastic baby dolls, each in a matching white diaper.

At once there was a shocked silence, students looking at other, some confused, some with dawning horror.

Draco was the first to speak up, his expression tight. “Is this some sort of joke?”

“Not at all, Mr. Malfoy.” Poppy explained. “Starting this year, Hogwarts is running a unit on child care. There are many useful spells and magic that might never be learned otherwise.”

“You expect us to play with dolls?” Draco spat in irritation.

“Oh, they are quite a bit more sophisticated than the dolls you are used to, Mr. Malfoy.” The Gryffindor half of the class snickered. “In fact, they imitate real live babies almost perfectly.”

Ron eyed the pile of baby limbs with scepticism. “That doesn’t look like any real live baby I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, it hasn’t been animated yet. Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom, if you two could step forward.”

Ron and Neville hesitantly walked to the front of the group. Madame Pomfrey took the plastic doll from the top of the pile; turning it onto its stomach she opened a compartment on its back. She then reached out and pulled a single hair from each boy’s head.

“Oww.”

“Hey!”

“Relax, boys, I only needed a sample of your genetic material so the baby will act and appear as your real offspring would.” She pushed both hairs into the open compartment before closing it and waving her wand over the dolls head. Instantly, it sprang to life; sprouting short orange hair and growing ruddy, round, freckle-covered cheeks. Poppy turned it around presenting the squirming, little bundle to the two new ‘parents’. Neither boy made a move to take it; in fact, both were looking at it as if it were a five headed Hunatran beast.

“Come now, there’s nothing to it, support the head, and don’t drop it on the ground.” Poppy exclaimed, pressing the squealing infant at them.

With a hopeless air, Ron finally took the baby into his arms; he was not prepared for the feel of it – floppy, heavy, and squirming – and promptly dropped it in a mud puddle.

Poppy merely glanced down, “Thank goodness it isn’t a real baby, Mr. Weasley. I suggest you try a little harder if you want to pass this course.

“Each time the baby is ignored when it requires something, even something as commonplace as affection, or when the baby is mishandled it will be recorded on a magical scroll. Likewise, when positive actions - feedings, changings, baths, playtime - are performed, those activities will also be recorded on the same scroll. This scroll is what will be marked at the end of the two week unit, both partners will receive the same grade, this is an exercise in teamwork.”

“Two weeks!” One of the Slytherin yelped, aggravated. Slytherin or not, Harry thought, she had a point. Tote around this…toy for two weeks, and cater to its whims?

“Yes, this unit will span just over two weeks, during which time the baby is fully your responsibility, and it will age faster than a real infant would, by the end of the two weeks the baby will be functioning much like a small toddler approaching their eighteenth month. This will allow you all to experience a range of baby care.”

Two by two the students approached Madame Pomfrey, strand of hair in hand, and received in return a wailing, diaper clad gremlin. Each pair was also given a plain, muslin sack filled with essential supplies, Poppy had explained, bottles and formula, soaps, blankets, books, toys, clothes…

The only bright spot in the whole experience was that Malfoy, partnered with Goyle, had, by a large margin, the ugliest baby in the class. Its eyes were crossed and sunken, head misshapen, and the blond hair sprouting from its head was patchy and straw-like.

After class, Harry struggled to the top of the hill, heading back to Hogwarts, his baby under one arm and the bag of supplies under the other.

He was feeling rather indifferent about his baby.

She was a girl, and the smallest baby in the class. In fact, she looked undernourished to begin with, which Harry did not take as a good sign. She wasn’t the cutest baby around; with a disproportionately large nose and tiny lips which were pursed into a permanent sulk of discontent. But – she also wasn’t the ugliest; the bright, green eyes surrounded by thick, black lashes assured that.

As Harry reached the top of the hill the rain was clearing up and the sun was coming out. And just when he began to think that maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad day after all - the baby let out a howl to rival that of a Mandrake seedling.

OOooOOooOOooOOooOO

212. Firewhiskey.

213. Someone catching fire.

“Next order of business…”

214. Firewhiskey.

“…very excited to offer this new program…”

215. Dark Lord resurrecting himself.

216. Tornado.

217. Minerva suddenly under compulsion to do a little jig on the table.

218. Firewhiskey

“…babies…”

Severus Snape (who had been passing the time mentally enumerating his list of 236 things that would make this meeting more tolerable) snapped up straight on his uncomfortable stool. He glared across the large table the Hogwarts’ faculty was gathered around. Surely he hadn’t just heard what he thought he heard.

“Pardon me?”

Minerva pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Yes, Severus?”

“Did I just hear someone speak of babies?”

“Yes. The Care of Magical Creatures unit on infant care and management.” At Severus’ incredulous look, Minerva continued, “You know this, Severus; we discussed this at September’s faculty meeting.”

198 ways to take points away from Potter for doing nothing, had been the list he had composed over the course of the September staff meeting. His favourite had been Number 32 – ten points for breathing too loudly. He remembered that; what had been discussed in the meeting, however, was lost to him.

“Refresh my memory.” Severus growled with clear impatience.

Headmaster McGonagall sighed with irritation and then explained once more, “As you know, the Dark Lord has been defeated.”

Severus rolled his eyes, “I did hear a little something about that.”

With a pinched expression, Minerva cleared her throat and continued, “During the last few years the British Wizard birth rate has been in sharp decline. Added to this has been the drastic increase in the rate of Muggle-born and mixed blood wizards choosing to immigrate to the Americas and to the European continent to avoid the persecution and targeted attacks they suffered during the Dark Lord’s last battles. Therefore, the Ministry has mandated the inclusion of a number of units of study pertaining to family and child care in the hopes of rebuilding the wizarding population in Britain. Our first effort to fulfill this obligation to the Ministry will be to bring in babies for the students to …”

Severus Snape’s mood became grim, if this was what he would have to put up with in peace years, well then, he wondered darkly, how hard could it really be to resurrect the Dark Lord?

OOooOOooOOooOOooOO

“Does it have a name, Harry?” Hermione asked plainly when she met up with Ron and Harry after the day’s classes were over.

The three of them sat in the near empty Gryffindor common room, Hermione at the table with her books out, Ron reclining on one of the couches with his baby laying on his lap, and Harry pacing slowly behind the back of the couch, his baby screaming in his ear.

Harry considered it for a moment holding the baby up in front of him. “Peanut.”

“Peanut?”

Harry shrugged a little. “Her head is sort of shaped like a peanut…”

Hermione looked at him disapprovingly. Ron also looked less than impressed with the name, so Harry demanded lightly, “What? What did you call yours?”

On cue, the baby on Ron’s stomach belched loudly. “We named him Ronville.”

Harry snickered.

Hermione was only slightly more vocal, “Oh, Ron, you didn’t.”

“Oi, it’s not a bad name.” Ron said defensively. Ronville agreed, shoving a toe up his nose.

Harry’s baby was fussing crankily – which appeared to be her standard mood – so he bounced her lightly in his arms. It did no good. Gah! He needed to find some way to shut her up. He looked over to where Hermione was idly fingering the pages of her book, her long, thick hair held back in a haphazard pony-tail. She was concentrating on the words, tapping the end of her quill on her lips. Hermione always seemed to be so knowledgeable, so capable. It was a long shot, but maybe… “Say, Hermione, I don’t suppose you like to baby-sit?”

Ron brightened, sitting up, “Brilliant idea.”

Hermione looked at him pointedly. “Because I’m a girl?”

Harry knew at once it was one of those questions with very few right answers. Ron, however, was not so quick to realize it.

“Well…” Ron began. Harry made a quick slashing motion across his neck in an attempt to stop his friend committing suicide. Ron didn’t notice. “Everyone knows girls are just sort of natural at it. They’re, you know, the ones meant to take care of babies and stuff. It’s like their job…”

Harry waited for a furious, self-righteous explosion from Hermione.

It didn’t come. In fact, she began to laugh.

She laughed as she collected her books. She laughed as she got up from the table. And she laughed all the way out of the room.

Harry and Ron exchanged looks. Ronville let out a distressed ‘BAAAAAAAAH’ and Peanut followed it up with some high pitched screams.

Harry groaned. This was going to be a long, long two weeks.

OOooOOooOOooOOooOO

Later at dinner, Ron tentatively took a seat beside his girlfriend; Neville had their baby on his lap across the bench, holding a bottle to the baby’s pursed lips. Neville was surprisingly good it, Harry attributed this mostly to the boy’s great patience and soft nature, something he, himself, was lacking.

It was a struggle for him to get his baby to take the bottle. He grew frustrated with it quickly and the baby was no help, crying and refusing to suck at it. The look in her eyes expressing her irritation with his ineptness.

Ron nudged his girlfriend lightly. “Say, Mione, you’re not, you know, upset about before are you? I didn’t mean it in an insulting way.”

Her smile hinted at a rather un-Hermionesque guile, “No, of course not.” She neatly folded her napkin on her lap. “I mean, I was a little miffed. But then I fire-called your mum and we chatted, and I felt a lot better afterwards.”

Ron shrank on the bench, his cheeks going pale, making his smattering of freckles stand out. “My mum?”

Hermione’s smile grew as she nodded. On cue, a bright red howler swooped down on Ron and opened to Mrs. Weasley screaming voice. “Ronald Weasley! What is this about it being a woman’s job to take care of the babies?-! I can’t believe you would –”

Ron groaned, shame-faced, and grabbed his half-eaten plate of dinner, dashing out of the dinning hall with the howler hot on his heels.

Harry, who was trying unsuccessfully to get his baby to drink the milk in her bottle instead of spitting it all over, bumped his knee against Hermione’s under the table. “Thanks for reminding me why I never want to be on your bad side, you’re – Ah… ” Harry broke off with an anguished whine, looking down at Peanut. “Did you just pee, again?-!”

Hermione nudged his knee back, her smile playful. “I should be thanking you, Harry.”

Harry twisted on the bench, hold the baby held out at arm’s length. “Why’s that?”

“You’re the one who advised me not to take CoMC this semester, when I was having a difficult time deciding between taking eight or nine N.E.W.T.s.”

“WAAAHHH!”

“I should have taken my own advice…” Harry groaned.

OooOooOooOo Friday: Day 2 oOooOooOooO

Having gotten little sleep the night before, Harry stumbled into his first class of the day, Potions, feeling stiff and short-tempered. Only moments ago, he had finally gotten the baby to sleep in her tiny straw bassinette. She looked entirely too peaceful in her pale yellow onesie, curled up asleep; she didn’t look anything like the screaming banshee he had become exceedingly familiar with over the long first night. There were only four other babies in the class, everyone else in the Care of Magical Creatures class had managed to leave their baby with a ‘parent’ who was not in N.E.W.T. level potions. A very smart move, made with the Professor of said N.E.W.T. class in mind.

The remaining babies included the unfortunate looking Malfoy baby who was apparently sleeping soundly in his own bassinette which Draco had transfigured into a luxurious looking, silver engraved creation lined in fine white silk and draped in delicate white, lace netting.

Severus strode in at the exact moment the clock struck eight-twenty-five and the class began. Without looking at the students he glided down the aisle and took his place at the front of the class, setting down a stack to scrolls on the front corner of his desk. He then turned his black, cool gaze at the class.

“I have graded your quizzes from last Friday and this Monday. You will find that a number of you have a great deal of work to do if you hope to avoid a spectacular failure in Potions this year. Let alone try a half hearted attempt at your N.E.W.T. The class medium was P; I would say it is a disappointment, but with a class made up of half Gryffindors, well, my expectations were understandably low. You will pick your quizzes up before you leave the classroom at the end of the period. Now, onto the potion.” With a snap, a potion list dropped down in front of the board. “It is quite imperative that –”

“Wah! Wah!” Peanut awoke, Harry figured only ten or twelve minutes after he finally got her to sleep, and started wailing at the top of her lungs.

A muscle in Severus’ jaw tightened. “The mixture will become quite volatile if you are not careful to always –”

“WAH!” Harry himself almost felt like crying as Peanut continued howling and Severus continued to talk, pointedly not glaring in his direction, despite the fact most of the class he turned to stare at him. “WAH! WAH! WAH!”

“The filed unicorn hoof is very expensive, and should be doled out in the precise amount required – which is two pinches and one half –”

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!” Harry winced visibly, willing the baby to stop.

“MR. POTTER!” Severus’ voice boomed. “If you can not keep that…thing quiet, you will just have to vacate the room; some students are interested in actually making effective potions or – bearing in mind the absurdly low level of aptitude in half of this room – at least not exploding themselves and their colleges into miniscule pieces.”

Harry’s frustration escaped in a low groan, the squalling infant in one arm his wand in the other. “I’m trying, Professor. You think I have any way of controlling this thing?”

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“Out, Mr. Potter.”

“But –”

Severus’ sharp, inflexible command broke no argument, “To the hall, Mr. Potter, and take your equally unmanageable progeny with you.”

OOooOOooOOooOOooOO

Harry paced outside in the hall for the next hour, trying to stop her crying. He had changed her nappy, tried to give her the bottle, tried rocking, burping, and pleading with her… He had tried almost everything in the bleeding manual, and nothing, nothing, would stop her piercing cries.

He just was total shit at this. He didn’t like the baby, and Harry was positive the blasted thing knew it. She just keep crying and giving him looks as if to say, ‘You’re fucking rubbish, where’s a proper caregiver? I’ll just keep screaming until I get one. See if I don’t!’

Harry head pounded fiercely with a terrific headache.

He heard the noise picking up in the classroom which signalled the end of the period and sighed, sinking deeper into depression, as his classmates started streaming out of the classroom. Dammit, he had missed the whole brew, and he was doing so poorly in the class that missing this practical would likely put a stop to his chances at passing. Teeth gritted in frustration, he ignored the sympathetic looks from his friends and the taunting looks from the Slytherins as they flooded out of the classroom.

Taking a deep breath, Harry walked back into the class, cradling Peanut in one arm and holding her pacifier in her mouth with the other.

“You’re too late, Potter.” Professor Snape looked up from his desk as Harry walked up the aisle.

“It’s not my fault! The blasted thing wouldn’t shut up, and you wouldn’t let me in the class until it did.”

“It seems to be quite now.”

“Only because I’m gagging her with the pacifier. I don’t know if she can breathe, let alone cry.”

“Not cut out for parenting, eh, Potter?”

“No.” Harry hissed. “Is that what you want to hear? I’m a complete failure at it. Totally incompetent. This baby is sucking my soul out.”

“My, aren’t we being dramatic today.”

Harry’s face turned practically purple and he drew in a breath of air for what Severus could only imagine would be a melt down of epic proportions.

“Don’t forget to pick up your quiz.” Severus interrupted helpfully, waving his hand towards the front desk.

Harry glared, sucking back whatever venom he had been about to spew at the professor, walking up to Snape’s desk.

“The one you failed,” Severus added as Harry looked down at the scrolls, as if clarification was needed.

“I failed them both,” Harry spat out after finding his scrolls.

A speck of malicious glee entered Severus’ eyes. “I know.”

Harry gritted his teeth, shoving the scrolls into his messenger bag.

“I will be in the classroom after dinner tonight. You may come back to finish your potion then.”

Harry looked at him in disbelief. Snape was going to give him a change to do the practical?

Severus had given him a great deal of extra training over the last year leading up to Voldemort’s collapse. In fact, with some not-so-gentle persuasion from Dumbledore’s portrait, Snape still gave him extra DADA lessons on the week-ends. The former headmaster was still intent on grooming the wizarding Wonder Boy for great things, not content with Harry merely saving the world.

But, Snape had never given a student a second chance on an assignment. Snape was doing something that could be considered a little be charitable?

Severus rolled his eyes easily picking up on Harry’s palpable disbelief. “Kindly scrap your jaw off the floor, Potter. Despite the considerable amount of satisfaction I would receive from failing you, which your work up to this point undoubtedly merits, I have no desire to be harassed for the rest of my career as the professor who failed everyone’s Golden Boy. Now get out.”

OOooOOooOOooOOooOO

When Harry pushed the door open to the Potions’ Lab it was well after dinner and Peanut was mercifully asleep in the bassinet Harry held in one hand. He set the bassinet on the lab bench one over from his station and set about pulling his equipment out, wondering if he should go ahead and get started without Snape’s presence.

He didn’t have to decide because the man in question swept in seconds later, robes billowing in true Snape fashion.

“I see you’ve made it quiet.” Severus sneered, glaring briefly at the basket before turning and nodding towards the caldrons. He then walked up to his desk, sitting down behind it and waving at Harry impatiently. “Proceed. I trust you at least wrote the instructions down in class today before your … departure.”

He hadn’t. He had, however, gotten it off Hermione later anticipating Snape’s question, so he nodded quickly, pulling the paper from his pack.

It was a mistake as the movement rattled the table which in turn rattled the bassinette, waking the baby.

Immediately, as was her want, Peanut started to wail. Limbs trying to push free of the swaddling, crying louder and louder.

Harry half-heartedly reached over and rocked the woven basket. “Oh, please, not again. Can’t you shut-up for one bloody moment?”

“WAAAAHHHH!”

“Quiet, Peanut.”

The baby screamed loud.

“Be quiet!” Harry screamed, louder.

“WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!”

“Quit the touch you have there, Potter.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong; I’m following all of the instructions to a tee.” Harry picked her out of her bassinet, rocking her back and forth. “Can you hand me the bottle in my book bag, Sir?”

Severus didn’t even bother looking up from his desk.

Harry groaned softly, the baby crying so hard she began to dry heave. “Please, sir.”

Please, sir, was certainly one the most pleasing things he had ever heard come off Harry’s tongue, so he relented. With a cross sigh, Severus arose from his desk and walked over to rummage through Harry’s bag, retrieving the full baby bottle. He thrust it towards Harry.

“Can you warm it please? I have my hands full.”

“As if I know how to warm a bottle.” Severus snapped scornfully, holding the bottle out at arms length.

“Fine, you take her, I’ll warm the bottle.”

“If you think –”

Before Severus could finish his sentence the flailing baby was thrust into his arms. He fumbled her, almost dropping her to the floor. Harry was unconcerned, grabbing the bottle and muttering a warming charm while he flicked his wand with his free hand.

Severus was quite amazed. He had never held a baby before, but this thing in his arms felt very real, warm, and alive. He could feel it moving, breathing, Merlin’s beard, who ever manufactured these had impressive skills. The baby blinked her bright, intelligent green eyes up at him, eyes teary, and nose leaking, as if asking ‘Who the devil are you? Don’t you dare drop me’.

Harry sighed drearily. “Alright, you can hand her back.”

Severus locked gazes with the baby, her glistening emerald eyes still imploring. Don’t drop me, don’t drop me, don’t drop me.

“I’ll feed it.”

“What?”

“I’ll feed her.” Severus repeated, churlishly. “If you don’t start on your potion, we’ll be here all night. So you concentrate on that. And do make an effort not to blow us both up.”

Harry jumped at the chance to be free of the crying horror (though he noted that the perverse and contrary thing had stopped crying the second she landed in Snape’s arms).

Several minutes later Harry’s caldron was heating nicely and he spared a second to glance over towards the professor. Peanut was lying on the desk, milk dripping all over her face with an irritated, ‘you bloody moron, I’m wet’, expression on her infant features.

Harry could do nothing but look at the scene, fascinated and slightly horrified, before finally managing to point out, “I believe you have to fit the plastic tip into her mouth. Not just squirt the milk towards it.”

Severus’ brows drew together, he pumped the bottle in his hand sending a short spray of milk towards the baby - it splattered on her cheek. Peanut’s expression was the epitome of indignation. “That’s ridiculous, how is it supposed to breathe if the bottle is blocking its mouth?”

“She can use her nose.”

“Are you quite sure about that?”

“Professor, the little, pointed end is called a nipple for a reason. I am quite sure biological mothers don’t aim their breasts towards the babies and squeeze…”

“Point taken.” Severus interrupted brusquely. He lowered the nipple of bottle to the baby’s mouth, and, to his surprise, her lips latched onto it. “It’s suckling on it!” Severus swept the baby up and held her nimbly in the crook of one arm as the bottle slowly drained. “What is her name? It is a ‘her’, isn’t it?”

“Peanut. Girl.” Harry replied while chopping up his blue, spindly Caffenspot stems.

“No, her actual name.”

“Peanut is her actual name.”

“You named your baby after a legume?”

“You do know she’s not a real baby, right? Merlin, you can call her anything you want.”

Severus looked the tiny whelp over. He quickly came up with a list of six names that would be more appropriate than Peanut.

6. The Spawn

5. Mischief

4. Poppet

3. Snakelette

2. Junior

1. Danger

There were a few more minutes of silence before Severus set aside the empty bottle and moved to return Peanut to the basket. She blinked up him, her teary green eyes having gone from upset to adoring in the space of minutes. He reached in and tried to smooth his fingers through her unfortunate, Potter-like hair.

She in turn stretched out one arm, fingers extended and grasping. He slid his finger against that grasping palm and the infant enfolded it in a surprisingly strong grip.

Severus frowned deeply and tried to shake it off. The small hand refused to let go. He was reluctant to shake it off with any more force because he didn’t want to break the bloody thing – he just wanted his digit back.

“Baby,” He started in most chilling voice, “Drop.”

She didn’t drop, however, she hung on.

“Let go. Now.” Severus used his most menacing tone though in a whisper to avoid alerting Potter to the situation and the fact the baby was besting him. “Now.”

She, however, still refused to let go.

Then the baby did something that, completely unknowingly, would change the lives of all those around her.

She smiled.

At Severus.

“Imogene…” Severus commanded more loudly. “Let go of my finger.”

Harry glanced up in surprise. “Imogene?”

“What? You have no problem calling your child Peanut, but a problem calling her Imogene?”

“Well…”

“Get back to work.” Severus snapped, then he added spitefully, with relish, “And you’ll have to restart entirely, the instructions said chop the stems, not mangle them.”

OooOooOooOo Saturday: Day 3 oOooOooOooO

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville met up in the dinning hall for an early lunch on Saturday morning.

Ronville, full of formula and wrapped in a Chuddley Cannons’ blanket, was fast asleep in his bassinet.

Imogene (Harry winced at how easily he had begun calling her that atrocious name) was not sleep. She was trying valiantly to cry around the sunshine yellow pacifier. The cries came out as muffled squeaks and hiccups.

“You look terrible.” Hermione was kind enough to mention as she poured herself some more juice.

“Thanks.” Harry growled, running a hand through his hair. “I feel like shit. She never stops crying. She never stops needing things.”

“Maybe you can get a nap in this afternoon.” Neville pointed out helpfully, shoving a huge bite of sandwich into his mouth.

Harry shook his head, groaning again. “I have extra lessons with Snape.”

“Maybe he’d give you a week off.” Ron said with a shrug.

Harry arched an eyebrow. “Really? You think Snape would give me a week-end off because I’m drained?”

Ron grimaced in sympathy. “No. If anything, the greasy git will just push you harder.”

“That’s what I’m afraid off…”

OOooOOooOOooOOooOO

Harry received his extra lessons in Snape’s dungeon chamber; there were too many explosives in the potion laboratories to be throwing curses around. The second Harry stepped through the door, Severus’ voice snapped at him from the far end of the room. “Get out. Come back when you do not have that thing with you.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut in frustration, using his one free hand to rub at his temple. “The project isn’t over for two weeks, Professor...”

“There’s no one else you can leave her with?”

“I don’t have a partner, Sir.”

Severus sighed, “She’ll only prove to be a distraction.”

On cue, she started bawling. Once more, Harry was amazed that sounds so loud and forceful could come from such a tiny thing.

He gritted his teeth, rocking the bassinette lightly, “I’ll pay attention.”

“You had better. I am not going to go easy on you because you’re playing mother to a doll.” As he spat that, Severus glanced down into the bassinette. He grimaced. “She looks a little dirty, Potter, and she doesn’t exactly smell the freshest.”

“I gave her a bath this morning.”

“Her scent and appearance say differently.”

Harry shrugged lightly. “I couldn’t figured out how to turn her around.”

“What?”

“I tried putting her in the sink, and I managed to wash her front side just fine but she’s so slippery when wet and her head flops everywhere… It’s impossible to flip her. And we’re not allowed levitating them because Poppy says real babies suffer from anxiety when only handled with magic, therefore the fake babies can’t either. So, I only washed one half of her…”

Severus was looking at Harry in disbelief, “You’ve only washed her front half?”

Harry merely raised his eyebrows, staring mulishly.

Severus grimaced and then stalked across the room to pull out a caldron from the bottom shelf of his kitchen rack, setting it on the table. “Put her in.”

“You want to put the baby in a caldron?”

“It has been scrubbed clean and it’s not as if I’m going to put it over the fire once she’s in.”

Harry sighed, giving the baby over, gaping as the baby started to calm the moment she was in Snape’s hands.

Severus deftly pulled her jumper off and settled her into the caldron. He added a cup of warm water to the bottom of the caldron. Harry helpfully handed him the small bottle of baby soap.

Severus held the baby with one hand and applied the soap with his other hand. Washing the front of her body and then lathering her fine, black hair. He scooped up handfuls of water and used it to rise off her hair before deftly flipping her over and washing off her other half, one hand firmly under her.

Imogene fussed a little, the tears clearly on their way.

“Oh, hush.” Severus admonished. “You’re just fine, stop acting like a Hufflepuff.”

The firm admonishment worked immediately and Imogene stopped fussing, splashing her hands in the shallow water, “Aaabbbaaaooo.”

Severus clucked his tongue, “You need to work on your enunciation, young lady.”

Harry snorted softly, “She can hardly forms sounds yet.”

Severus pulled Imogene from the caldron, laying her on a thick white towel. Harry stopped him when he went to use a drying spell, thrusting baby powder and another blanket at him.

“You can’t use magic directly on the baby. Madame Pomfrey’s rules.”

Severus rolled his eyes, wrapping the towel around her, and lifting her into his arms. She was warm, and she smelled like talcum powder and…baby. He narrowed his eyes at her. “Alright, now you’re going to sleep while I throw hexes at your father for the rest of the afternoon.”

Harry scoffed, “As if that is going to work. The blasted thing never sleeps when you want her to!”

Severus looked up at him smugly as the baby just closed her eyes and went to sleep.

Harry’s mouth open and closed, flabbergasted. “How’d you…She…She never…Gah!”

Severus laid her back in the bassinet and then set it in the corner, casting a shielding charm around it, in case of wayward curses.

He turned back to Harry, drawing his wand in the same motion. “Shall we begin? Duelling today I think. To test your grasp of the counter-curses I taught you last week.”

Harry was given no chance to let the words sink in before a particularly painful fire-curse slammed into his right shoulder, burning right through his robes. It knocked him off his feet. Severus stood over him, blowing lightly on the tip of his now smouldering wand.

Snape flicked his wand once and snapped, “Again.”

Three hours later, Harry was sooty, sore, and finally managing to throw up counter-curses quickly enough to appease Severus’ stringent standards.

“How in the world you managed to get out of the final battle, for all intents and purposes, in one piece, I will never know.”

Harry was saved from what would no doubt be another good ten minutes of stinging set downs by a knock at the door.

Severus glided to the door, opening it up with his usual glare in place. It was a rather shamefaced Slytherin prefect. They conversed for a moment before the prefect hurried off. Severus turned to look at Harry.

“I will be gone for a short while. Clean yourself up; there is burn salve in the washroom cabinet.”

Harry nodded and Severus swept out of the room.

Harry picked his way through Severus’ chambers to the lavatory, easily finding the vial filled with a homemade, clear, green burn potion. He shrugged his robes off, smearing a little to the salve on the worse of his burns. It tingled and began to heal at once.

He was just pulling his torn robes back on when he heard the baby start to cry. He groaned, pulling a face in the mirror before going back to the main room. He removed Severus’ shielding charm and reached into the bassinet to lift out the crying infant.

Harry bounced Imogene up and down in his arms, pacing across the rooms trying to settle her. She just kept crying until Harry shook up some formula and started to feed her. He continued to walk around the room as she drank her bottle, taking the opportunity to look through some of Snape’s things. He glanced over a pile of loose papers Severus had left on the lamp table by the couch. They weren’t filled with script as he had anticipated, instead they were enumerated lists. Harry immediately suspected that they would be potion ingredients or steps. They weren’t however. He exchanged the bottle for a few of the papers to get a better look.

10 flowers with magical properties currently not grown in Sprout’s greenhouse.

14 ways stop the Prefects from overflowing the Prefect bathroom tub.

6 dark spells Potter should know before he leaves Hogwarts.

“Find anything interesting?” A dark voice intoned from behind him.

Harry turned towards the door, and waved the top paper at Severus, the one about the dark spells. “I’ve never even heard of these before.”

“You haven’t been ready to hear of those before.”

“What are these?” Harry gestured at the papers spread all over.

“Lists.” Severus answered dryly.

“I did get that much. There must be a hundred of them.”

“I find making lists help organize my thoughts.”

“Did you fix up whatever that problem was with the prefect?”

Severus reaches across, tapping his finger against one of the lists in Harry’s hand. “Number 8 worked adequately.”

The baby began to whimper.

Harry grimaced, anticipating the shrieking to come. She didn’t disappoint.

“WAAAAH!”

Severus plucked her out of Harry’s arms and burped her, quieting her almost at once.

“She’s a right terror with anyone else.” Harry grumbled. “Hell spawn.”

Severus glanced at the clock. “We still have several hours of training left today.”

“Can’t we call it quits early? I haven’t slept in three days, I’m exhausted.”

Severus sneered lightly, pressing Imogene back into Harry’s arms. The baby started whimpering immediately. “You get her back to sleep. I’ll fetch us something to eat. Then,” he threatened darkly, “you’ll quit complaining and we’ll train for another hour or two.”

Harry groaned, dropping down onto the sofa with Imogene. “You’re going to kill me.”

“If only, Mr. Potter. If only.”

OooOooOooOooOooOooOooO

When Severus came back from the kitchens, Harry was slumped on the couch, Imogene lying against his chest. They were both fast asleep.

Surprisingly enough it wasn’t a unique occurrence. It had happened quite a bit at the beginning of their private lessons. Harry would be worn out by the training and would fall sleep the moment his body hit a chair or sofa. Severus would allow him to sleep it off where ever he fell, often just going off to bed himself, safe in the knowledge that in the morning Harry would always be gone.

He moved over to Harry now, grabbing the blanket off the back of his chair.

As Severus spread the blanket down over Harry’s body, the baby’s eyes snapped open, surprisingly bright and alert. Emerald green eyes stared at Severus, curiously, as if deciding whether or not to start screaming.

“No you don’t, Imogene.” Snape declared, sweeping her up in his arms. “You’ve cried enough for one night.”

She sniffled, eyes brimming with tears.

“You’ve been fed,” Snape checked her diaper, “And you’re dry. So don’t you even think about crying, that’s not an appropriate way to get attention. The only thing you will accomplish is waking your very cranky imitation-father up. And Potter is aggravating enough without being sleep-deprived on top of that.”

The baby sighed loudly, thwarted, but got over it quickly, shoving her toes in her mouth and sucking happily.

“Now, I have a great deal of marking to do for my classes. So I am going to put you back in bed and you are going to go quietly to sleep until morning.”

He leaned over to lay her back beside Harry. The second her bottom touched the couch she drew in a huge breath of air, preparing to wail.

Severus snatched her back up again, eyes narrowed. “Potter, was right, you are a little hell spawn. But really what could be expected? You are his daughter after all.” Severus took her with him as he returned to his desk. “How would you like to learn how to grade papers?” Severus bundled her up tightly in a white baby blanket he found in the bassinet and propped her up on his lap. “This, Peanut, is a scroll on Sea Salt Spying potions. The first thing we do if look at the name. See, this says Longbottom…” Snape sounded it out, pointed at the letters as he read them. “We have no need to read this one; we just give it a P for poor. Or, if it looks as if he has written it on a dinner napkin, we give him a D for dreadful.”

He looked down to make sure Peanut was playing attention. Her bright green eyes were staring in rapt attention at the parchment. “Good. Now we move on to the next. Oh, this one is your father’s.” Severus explained, again pointing out the name. “Potter. What shall we give him?”

Peanut had squirmed an arm free from the blanket by this time and flailed her drool covered fist in the air. She hit the scroll, leaving wet little finger prints over the start of Harry’s surname. Snape snickered, almost impressed. “That’s right Imogene, P for Potter is also, conveniently, P for poor. I think you’re getting the hang of this already.”

On the inside Harry groaned, not moving his head from the cushion. When exactly had the whole fucking world turned against him, including his fake, mechanical baby? If he wasn’t so bloody tired, he would grab Peanut back and stalk out of there, and give Snape a piece of his mind about the utterly unfair grading system. He would just take a little nap first…