AN (ALMOST) HAPPY HOME

Fandom:
Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Relationships:
Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Remus Lupin/Severus Snape

Characters:
Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy, Original Muggle Character(s)

Additional Tags:
Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Mpreg

Summary:
Harry drives home and remembers the circumstances in which he found the home of his dreams.

Notes:
1- A translation of "Un hogar casi feliz".
2- This story was written before the publication of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" in 2007.

-------------------------------------------------------------

The man drove slowly through the town without paying attention to the curious glances of the countrymen. He went out into the open field and turned his eyes outwards, enjoying the compact layer of snow that hid the irregularities, while he arrived at the old late Baroque building near the town. He felt slightly tingling as he turned from the road onto the wide driveway leading to the main entrance. Less than twenty meters from the front door, gargoyles darted in front of him in a burst of light. It was only an instant, but his trained searcher's senses even discovered the slight smile of the guards when they recognized him.

He stopped the engine about ten meters away and walked, prolonging the pleasure of feeling how the house recognized and embraced him. That was his house, the spacious and populated home that he had longed for since he could remember. He raised his eyes to contemplate the fantastic facade and let himself be carried away by memories: Snape Castle was one of the best acquisitions of his life. He was sure of it.

He had found the property seven years earlier on a research trip. The objective was to advise the restoration of a mansion destroyed by Death Eaters almost to the ground. Nothing declared, of course. For those in the town, a fire had destroyed the old McNair house, and the land had passed to a state institution. They would send an architect from London specializing in old mansions to evaluate the damage and budget the works. This is how that young man with messy black hair and bright green eyes had arrived in the sleepy town of Luthen Hill, where - in the year 2000 - the girls returned home at twelve at night, everyone drank black beer and detested Freddy Mercury.

Those in Luthen Hill were not lacking in curiosity, so the curtains went up in every house as the blue Ferrari sped through town to stop in the center of the square. The car screeched to a halt, and the girls entering the catechism class turned around shamelessly. Indeed, everyone was waiting for an older man, a national history scholar who understood the values of the small community, so that the young women would have something to confess that Sunday, who came out of the car was a boy of about twenty years old, dressed in jeans and white shirt.

The young man took his briefcase from the side seat and climbed the short staircase. The Mayor was already at the entrance, ready for the tirade about the antiquity and honorability of Luthen Hill, led by the parish priest and the wealthiest man in the city. They smiled kindly and bowed a little.

"Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, the almost architect Harry Potter." -He extended his hand towards the chubby man with small blue eyes- "I take it you are the authority?"

"Indeed, I am Beckan, the Mayor. These are Monsignor Laurel," -he pointed to the wiry priest with thinning brown hair - "and Mr Saunders, owner of the mineral water bottle factory."

"A pleasure." -Potter said simply, and Mr. Beckan was left without a place to introduce his little speech. He invited him to his office to cut the awkward moment, and as they walked through the corridors, he observed him.

There was something about Potter that he didn't like. It could be the confidence with which he carried himself or how he moved: soft and fluid, perhaps, simply his too-striking beauty. Harry Potter seemed to him like a magazine model and not a heritage architect.

The feeling of displeasure was accentuated when already sitting in the office, he could see the thin hands and polished nails. The Mayor and the priest exchanged a look to compare their opinions and agreed, like so many other times.

"Well, Mr. Potter." -the Mayor began again- "I must confess that London did not give us many details about their work. We have prepared a room for you in the hotel in town, but we do not know how long you will stay."

"I don't know either. You must understand that there are several tasks. I had to go up to McNair Manor and see what state the building was in. It's been three years since the fire, right?"

"Indeed." -said the priest.

"I must also check the city archives to collect data about the building that will allow me to assess the steps and costs for the restoration."

"Of course." -agreed the owner of the bottles.

"And, finally, we consult the neighbors about what the property meant to you."

"It is highly recommended to consult people." -Beckan supported.

"And only then..." a low, high-pitched bell interrupted them- "Excuse me." -He got up, went to the office window, and took a tiny cell phone out of his jeans. The other three looked at him curiously. "This is Potter..." -his face relaxed immediately- "Hello, love... Yes, everything is fine..." -he rested his forehead on the window glass and scratched his head with his free hand- "Well, small and Victorian..." -he let out a brief laugh. The hosts looked at each other, confused- "No, I haven't gone to the house yet. You called in the middle of the meeting with the authorities... Of course, they welcome me!... Because I'm very pretty, that's why..." -the owner of the bottles let out a deep laugh at such audacity, but the young man didn't flinch- "And the children?" -The priest softened his gaze- "No, no, I'll call you when I got settled... There is a hotel, they told me. I'm looking forward to seeing the waitresses..." -Beckan and Saunders exchanged knowing looks- "Okay, okay: Permanent alert!... Now, a kiss?" -He closed the phone and returned to sit with the others. "I hope you'll excuse me, but family..."

"Is no problem," Father Laurel assured, "the family comes before almost everything. Did you mention some children?"

"Twins: James and Joshua, a pair of rascals."

The priest gave him a kind look that seemed to make Potter uncomfortable. The young man cleared his throat and tried to resume the conversation.

"We were talking about the estimated time, right Beckan? I think about four weeks will be enough."

"And will you spend all that time away from your wife and children?" -Laurel asked.

Potter gave him a cold look.

"I will return to London on weekends."

"But your wife and children could come to Luther Hill. The country air is very healthy."

Now Potter looked at the old man with obvious annoyance.

"Can I ask why you are so interested in them?"

But the man tilted his head slightly and spoke slowly, looking intensely at the architect.

"Don't be offended, Mr. Potter. You know? This is a small town where young people are often easy prey for the decadent and anti-Christian propaganda that the media exposes in the name of freedom. We rarely receive visitors, and if that visitor is a prosperous family like yours, that acts as an example for our boys and girls. You follow me? It's not about you coming to church with us; I realize you don't usually go. But that the inhabitants see a loving couple, as it is evident that it is yours and their children. Let them see that God's project is the same in the big city and the rural town."

The young architect gave a long, astonished look at the priest of Luther Hill but did not say a word.

He turned to the Mayor.

"I would like to go to the hotel, I drove for five hours, I'm tired."

"Of course." -the chubby character hurried.

The next few days passed in relative calm. Potter would get up early and walk to McNair Manor, spending the day on the hill, taking notes, drawings, and photographs with an old-fashioned camera. Although several countrymen tried to accost him along the way, he always managed to say little about himself and dismiss the intruders. He was never rude except once, at the end of the first week. When the priest approached his bench in the hotel bar while the architect was drinking juice.

"Mr. Potter, can I sit next to you?"

The young man did not show pleasure in the old man's presence, but he made an ambiguous gesture with his head, which Laurel preferred to interpret in her favor.

"They say you don't waste your time. You work a lot on the hill."

"They pay me when I deliver the report, not before. You see, I have my reasons."

"Without a doubt, without a doubt. So will everything be finished within the deadline?"

"Unless something unexpected happens..."

"Oh! Then you will be late. On that hill something unexpected always happens to "common" people."

The young man kept his eyes fixed on the black, polished wood of the bar.

"I'm afraid I don't understand you."

"You see, McNair Manor has always been there. It could be said that it was the oldest building in town, but its inhabitants never mixed with those of Luther Hill. Anyone with good eyes could see them: they were there, growing, playing, getting old, and, eventually, dying. But they never CAME down to church or even to buy potatoes. That kind of attitude, in dark times, attracts curiosity. More than once, someone went up to get proof that they were witches, but people returned with no clear memories of what happened. Then, the good times came. Yes, this city was prosperous in the coal days, and many families became wealthy. They sent their children to London to study, and one of ours even became a knight of the kingdom, but McNair Manor refused invitations or visits. In 1892, people were still afraid of the hill, to the point that if a cow entered under its shadow, they would no longer touch it."

"Why are you telling me all this?" -interrupted Potter.

"So that you understand my reasons. The house didn't burn because there were no firefighters, Mr. Potter, but because no one dared to go up. Maybe they are old wives' tales. I partly believe them: there was something strange about the McNairs and their house. Hidden within those walls, there may still be something. I think of my faithful, common," -and he gave the word a special intonation- "curious people. You are the first person in five hundred years to climb that cursed hill, and I, poor old God-fearing man, wish to ask you. Have you seen anything?"

Potter then turned to the man and smiled with all the innocence of a child, his eyes shining in the soft light of the Luther's Hotel parlor.

"It is an old burnt mansion like I have seen many throughout England, Father Laurel. There is nothing there that could harm your flock if they are common people."

The old man then narrowed his eyes and smiled mischievously.

"So what if they are not all "common" people, dear Harry?"

The tone in which he had said his name was anything but friendly. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, an unmistakable sign of danger, but he kept his voice contained and deflected his response.

"Well, the brave ones can have problems up there. There are a couple of deep gorges, you know?"

The reverend looked at him intensely as if he were afraid to show his cards in a tough bet.

"What if they are like the people in the house that burned down in Ottery Saint Catchpole, the Weasley family home? Or like the Notts of Scotland and the Finnigans of Ireland? Will something happen to them if they are like them?"

But Potter chose to continue his game of innocence.

"I'm afraid I still don't understand you, reverend. I don't know those families, nor those fires. But since you think you know so much, go to London, and ask my office, maybe they plan to restore them."

"Not even in dreams! What if I come back without remembering where I went, like what happened to the poor devils climbing the hill?"

The architect's face hardened then. His voice was definitely threatening.

"Then don't ask so much, Father Laurel. Take care of your flock. I will see that nothing bad remains on McNair Hill."

And without another word, he exited the bar and went upstairs. No one saw him leave the next day. They only felt the engine of his sports car in the middle of the morning.

Potter returned on Monday and devoted himself to the files. With the same patience that he photographed the cracked walls of the house, he turned the seats and breakdowns of the region upside down in the basement of the City Hall. At noon, the Mayor ordered his secretary to bring sandwiches and coffee to the guest. To his surprise, the girl went without question and even smiled at the order.

She found the handsome Potter in a T-shirt and pants, climbing on one of the shelves with a light dust-dulling his hair.

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter."

The man did not turn to look at her.

"Wait a minute, I almost reached it..." He tensed his body towards the wall, and his entire arm sank behind the file. Then he relaxed and raised his hand with an old parchment in it. "Here it is."

He descended slowly and looked at the girl victoriously.

"This is the last page of a file. It was stuck back there." -he explained with a smile that melted her- "What did you want?"

She then showed her tray.

"I'm Stephany Murray, the Mayor's secretary. Mr. Beckan sends him lunch."

"Very kind of you," he looked at the tray and smiled at her, "but this a service for two."

"It's just... it's my free time, and I thought..."

"Having lunch with me?" -He lowered his eyelids a little- "Haven't they told you that I'm a disrespectful grump?"

"For saying goodbye to Father Laurel with a fresh wind? Many would like to have your courage."

"Wow, a rebellious young woman." -He looked at the papers waiting on the desk- "Well, I guess it's not healthy to spend too much time inside this dustbin. Let's go to the patio?"

She nodded happily, and they started walking up the stairs. Halfway down the corridor, the secretary proposed a garden on the right, separated from the patio by a wall and visible only from the Mayor's office.

The lunches in the garden were repeated on Tuesday, and on Wednesday, Potter waited for her at the basement entrance. They talked about many things. On Thursday, Stephany dared to ask for a couple of personal details.

"Harry, are you going to London this weekend?"

He was playing with some breadcrumbs, spreading them on the tablecloth in strange lines. He let the crumbs fall that he was clutching in his fist and looked up.

"Yeah."

"Are you going to see your family?" -He just nodded- "It must be nice to have a family. She is very lucky."

The girl's tone had a vague melancholy that Potter recognize. He fixed his eyes on a lilac bush a few meters away and spoke in an impersonal manner.

"I'm an orphan, you know? My parents died when I was one year old, and... in general, my childhood was not happy. But then I went to boarding school and had a lot of fun. There, I met my partner."

"It was love at first sight?"

"Not at all! We hated each other's guts for five years, but in the sixth year, we became good friends and in the end... In the end, we got to understand each other very well."

"I guess..." -she tried to laugh, but it was a sad laugh- "However, you never talk about her."

"Maybe because there was no one to talk to. If you had gone up to McNair Hill for lunch..." he gave her a mischievous laugh.

"I'm not crazy about going up that hill!" - Stephany hit him playfully, but Potter let himself fall as if the girl's fist carried real strength. "They say it's haunted."

He lay on the grass and crossed his arms under his head.

"Come on Steph, do you believe those old wives' tales?"

"I don't know." -She also dropped to the ground, turned around, and continued speaking, leaning on her side, looking at Potter intensely- "In any case, it is better to wait for the beau to reach familiar ground."

"Suddenly, I feel like I am hunted. What if they shoot me during the night?"

"Do not worry. In the country, we are very loyal. We only shoot from the open. But if I were Mrs. Potter, I wouldn't leave my man alone for five days."

"My partner has a lot to do, between the twins and work."

"Work?"

"A very demanding work. I often wonder if I would be able to keep that rhythm."

"You ask yourself but don't try to match it, Potter." -said a voice from the entrance to the garden.

The couple turned around quickly: a tall man with shoulder-length, very black hair and a hooked nose observed them without a hint of sympathy.

The architect jumped up and ran towards him, completely forgetting about Stephany.

"Sev! What a surprise to have you here!"

"It's obvious that you weren't expecting me." -He directed a contemptuous look at the girl abandoned on the grass and struggling with her narrow skirt.

"It's not what you think..." the young man began. The man raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"You never knew how to read minds, so don't presume to know what's going on inside me now. I think the adjective unforgivable fits." -the girl was already arriving at their side- "Are you going to introduce us?"

"This is Estephany Murray, the Mayor's Secretary. Miss Murray, this is my father-in-law, Lord Severus Snape."

The girl gave a slight nod to Snape; one glance from the man, and she began to babble.

"Very nice to meet you, my Lord... We really appreciate your son-in-law here... this is an... well, my lunch hour is over... See you, Mr. Potter."

And she left without even picking up the cutlery. Snape followed her with an expression of obvious contempt.

"Muggles!" -was his only comment before turning back to the young man- "Country life doesn't suit you Harry. I must admit that your reflexes were faster two weeks ago."

"Reflexes? -the boy was collecting the lunch remains in a bag- Do you think you're Mad-Eye? I'm not on guard because there'ss no one to defend myself against, Severus." -he stood in front of him- "In fact, there is no one I should worry about within fifty kilometers."

"I would like to know if Draco would call miss Murray no one."

But the young man sighed and made a gesture inviting him to walk towards the exit of the building.

"And I want to know what drove you to drive five hours."

"I have the kind of news that won't appear in The Prophet. It turns out that there was a big emergency in Bulgaria. Your friend the Count's agents" -Harry's skin crawled just remembering the sinister character- "located a group of Death Eaters of various nationalities. So the Bulgarians didn't just ask for Aurors, but from people in the International Magical Cooperation Department."

The walk had taken them to the hotel, but Harry did not trust the curious glances of the countrymen. They went to his room, and he immediately cast a potent privacy spell.

"You say Draco went to Bulgaria? In his state?"

"He went in the rear group by plane and only for paperwork. You know he really enjoys seeing their faces."

"Yes," the black-haired man growled. "Something very Malfoy. So, are you going to take care of the children?"

"I would like to, but tomorrow will be a full moon."

"I understand." Harry cut him off and started counting on his fingers. "Let's see, who do we have left? Bill is still in France. Fleur and Ron are in Bulgaria with Draco. Fred, George, Ginny, and Seamus are out. I won't leave my children in a warehouse of joke magic items, Deacon and Charlie preparing for exams at Hogwarts. Hermione and Millicent would be willing, but they have their own babies." -he covered his face with his hands- "Merlin! This is a punishment. Krum couldn't wait until the weekend to catch them?"

"You are the one who doesn't want the elves to take care of them." -pointed out Snape, with something resembling a smile on his lips.

"Yes, it's me." -Harry sounded almost regretful of that decision- "Okay, I guess the country air is good. Did you bring them?"

"They are sleep in the back seat of that muggle thing you call a family van."

"Then you take the sports car."

"Perfect." -Snape stood up and began to put on his gloves. "I hope the rush doesn't offend you, but this place gives me allergies, and the way home is long."

"Of course." -they went down the stairs quickly.

Potter handed him the keys when they reached the Ferrari, but the man didn't stop looking at him. Snape seemed eager to get going but uneasy about the weekend ahead.

"There is milk and clothes in the trunk. I put their dolls, colored pencils, parchments, and story books. Draco said goodbye to them in the morning. They know it will take him a while to get back." -he still hesitated- "Are you sure?"

Harry looked at him slowly. He didn't have many opportunities to be alone with his former teacher. Usually, Lupin and Draco mediated between them.

 He remembered the endless arguments surrounding the twins' upbringing, his refusal to use house elves, and Draco's rejection of human nannies because of the security breach that was involved. The family's final tacit agreement was to take turns caring for the children since they were all threatened in one way or another, although only the heads of the Potter-Malfoy couple were still for sale on the black market. But you had to continue with life, love each other, and have children -the Weasleys did an excellent job in this regard- you have to work -at Gringotts Bank or cleaning up old dark magic areas, like McNair Hill- because otherwise life lost meaning.

He understood Severus very well: Harry had never been left alone with his children, and now he would be literally alone, without a wizard - friend or foe - within fifty kilometers. However, he enjoyed the protection of anonymity and the wide rural spaces to move around. He forced himself to smile.

"We will walk a lot, and by Sunday afternoon, you can hug them. What can happen?"

"What about the priest? This Laurel guy? You say he knows something about the Weasleys and the Finnigans."

"He sees too much news and thinks, that's all. I can control it. Now go, it's almost three in the afternoon."

The older man nodded and sat at the wheel of the Ferrari, put the key on the dashboard, whispered a few words, and the engine started.

"Severus..."

The young man's voice had a slight tone of remonstrance, but an amused look from his father-in-law silenced him: it was so strange to see the ex-Death Eater laugh.

The car turned around the square at excessive speed and was lost from sight in a cloud of dust.

The next three days Harry spent fleeing from the curious inhabitants of Luther Hill. Anticipating some indiscretion from the twins, capable of answering simple questions about themselves, but not systematically lying, since Harry did not want to obliviate anyone. Faithful to the plan he had told Severus, he took the children through the planted fields, the steep hills, and the various Roman or Celtic ruins that dotted the area. Seeing their blonde cheeks color with the June sun and those delicate little hands play with the earth was exhausting but satisfying. At the end of the day, they were so tired that they would fall asleep in the truck, and he would take them up to the room with the help of a waitress and have dinner there.

On the way back from Saturday's walk, Harry got distracted and turned left onto a country road. He soon discovered he was lost, but it began to rain heavily, so he slowed down to maintain visibility and give himself a chance to think. James and Joshua were fighting over a blue bar and unknown qualities in the back.

"You two, stop making noise and do something quiet... look at the rain!"

"There is no rain," answered Joshua absently as he laid his brother down.

"So there is no rain? Can you tell me what is getting the car windows wet?"

His son looked at him strangely.

"The castle's tears." he explained in the same tone.

James took advantage of the moment to bite a piece of bar. His hair changed color instantly, and he shook his iridescent blue hair to the astonished father.

"I must stop!" Harry exclaimed, hitting the brakes.

He turned and waved his hand toward James, whose hair returned to its natural platinum hue. Then, he faced the youngest and most incomprehensible of the twins.

"What castle is crying, Joshua?"

But the boy only stretched his arm out the right window. Indeed, a castle with baroque lines could be seen under the gray afternoon light, perhaps a kilometer away. Potter sighed and pondered the situation.

He was alone, with two mighty three-year-old wizards, in the middle of a pouring rain. His son did not fail in these things, so the building was real and magical. If he cried, it was because he wanted to attract attention: was it empty? Was a misfortune hanging over its inhabitants?

Get in? The area was clear of magical folk but not of traps. The proof had been McNair Hill. Even if he didn't sense the dark magic, there could be danger, and there were the children. Then he realized that this was not his first time on that road. Why hadn't he seen it before? He turns to the little one.

"Do you know why the castle cries?"

The boy pressed his nose to the glass and scrutinized the drops for a few minutes.

"It has waited a long time. The masters left, and they promised to return. They have not."

Now James seemed interested in something in front of the car, so Harry looked in that direction and… froze. Through the shadows of the rainy afternoon, a black mass of two and a half meters advanced, with imposing horns pointing to the sky and semi-folded membranous wings. The being was about five meters from the car, breathing heavily and leaning on a staff as black as its flesh.

Harry cursed his carelessness a thousand times. Severus was right, as always. In two weeks, his defenses had fallen to an embarrassing level. Now, he had a gargoyle in front of the car and a building capable of manipulating the weather behind him. Brilliant!

Against all his predictions, the guardian of the rocks bowed and waited. Hagrid's words echoed in his mind. "He's proud. See? You should be polite." The lesson was about hippogriffs, but he trusted his instincts and tried to talk. If he played the guardian game, he could buy time and come up with something.

"I want you to stay still and silent. Okay? Dad is going to talk to the gargoyle."

He closed his mind to intrusions to face with dignity the trap of who knows what deranged witch. He descended deliberately slow so the one waiting would have time to recognize his peaceful intentions. As he closed the door, he whispered a protection and escape spell. If things got pear-shaped, the car would have to fly to London, regardless of International Secrecy laws. Finally, he bowed stiffly in front of the truck's fender. From that distance, the heavy breathing of the gargoyle was audible; it was definitely not in any condition to fight.

"Greetings, honorable guardian."

"My name is Goliath. I am happy to welcome the new masters of Snape Castle."

A light went on in his brain, but he decided to be cautious.

"Snape Castle? We didn't know this place existed."

"Few know, few. They left a long time ago. Bad days, those days, people with fire, people with axes. They promised to return. They gave me this magic wand to walk under the sun and to be able to properly welcome them upon their return. The magic almost runs out in the wait. Others came. We threw them into the mud or swallowed them like mice. But the Snapes are back. I can smell them inside your strange artifact, and the castle cries with happiness."

"Are you a gargoyle then? I would only trust you. I know that you are honorable."

"I understand your distrust. The forest told me about a war and that the damned McNair house was finally razed. But we would never harm a Snape. Blood is the only sacred law."

Harry's fears ended. That phrase could only come from a gargoyle, a preternatural being tied to the most primitive and fierce laws of servitude and waiting. How long had Goliath waited? They would find out later.

"Please allow me to guide my device to the castle. The children must not get wet."

"Okay, I know you will protect my masters with your life. Follow the path," -he pointed to the ground, and a road opened, straight and smooth- "I will follow you."

Harry returned to the vehicle and drove along the road, so magical that it disappeared behind them as Goliath advanced. The rain eased so that the sky was blue again when they reached the castle gate. As soon as the twins set foot outside, Goliath prostrated himself, and black tears flowed from his onyx eyes.

"Thank you for coming back." -and extended the magic wand towards James and Joshua.

The children looked at the object, fascinated. The oldest extended his hand, tempted.

"No." Intervened Harry, and the gargoyle looked up in astonishment- "It is not to them that you should hand over your staff, Goliath. Please, let's go in, and we'll talk.

Once inside, the house elves appeared from the corners with shrill voices and big, bright eyes. The torches in the hall were lit, revealing a cheerful decoration where snake motifs in red and gold predominated. The children laughed at such a combination; Goliath and the elves joined them. Beyond was a small room with a tea service and a lit fireplace. Once seated, the young man explained to Goliath his and his children's relationship with Severus Snape and promised to mobilize all his resources so that the masters returned to the castle before the end of the season.

The following Monday, Severus went to see Goliath and asked him for details of his family and the promise of waiting. Meanwhile, Draco discovered the legal owner of the property, a Muggle who was more than happy to sell the damned haunted building.

Before leaving Luther Hill, Harry walked along the entire shopping street arm in arm with Draco so that the girls and boys would have something to confess on Sunday. Of course, the blonde wore a magical cloak to hide his second pregnancy because the third Potter-Malfoy was already six months inside his belly. The two immensely enjoyed the astonished and envious faces of the townspeople and greeted Estephany Murray, the only one who dared to approach, with kisses on both cheeks. They then left in the blue Ferrari towards London at excess speed.

Less than a month later, the Snape-Potter-Malfoy family moved to Snape Castle, a magical building with ten kilometers of forest included, and the news was covered in The Daily Prophet, which speculated about the location of the property and the dose of darkness in their protection spells.

Harry was happy. He had plenty of rooms, elves eager to help, a fireplace in every room, a series of security spells no less than five centuries old, and a large park where Lupin could safely undergo his transformations, watched by the gargoyles.

Their third child, Sirius, was born in October inside the castle. He had the Potter's messy black hair and the Malfoy's gray eyes. He often displayed the most Slytherin character his parents could remember. His stares, his way of walking, and the sarcasm with which he disguised his tantrums generated in his Gryffindor father a painful sensation of deja vu: he felt the fear of turning around and facing a tiny Lucius Malfoy, ready to fulfill his last promise. But he loved him like he loved everything that came from his Draco.

The man remembered all this as he walked between the car and the high gate. He was happy at the prospect because the whole family -Weasleys and Finnigans included- would meet that Christmas at his house to celebrate the ten years of the twins and five of peace. There was no better place than this because Snape Castle was one of the best acquisitions of his life. He was sure of it.

Or that's what he thought until he opened the front door and jumped out just in time to avoid a heavy vase. The hall was the scene of a pitched fight, and no one seemed to have noticed his presence. The entire family was there, defending their points of view loudly. Well, maybe spending Christmas together hasn't been such a good idea...?

THE END