I dove towards Severus's private Floo the moment I heard the door slam, kneeling before it and tossing some Floo Powder into the flames, calling out my destination as I did so. I stepped through, looking around the nicely decorated quarters that Hogwarts had given my father, though I was still unsteady on my feet. Leaning against a couch for support, I heard one of the inner doors open, and immediately spotted Sirius standing there.

"You shouldn't be out of bed, you know," he cajoled me gently, crossing the room and easing me back onto the couch I was leaning on. "Snape said that if you wanted visitors it was fine, but that we would come to you." He looked past me, almost as if he expected to see my husband standing there. "Is he not with you, then?" he asked, summoning a soft blanket from a cupboard and placing it over my legs.

I shook my head at him. "No. No he's not with me."

My father appraised me from where he stood, and his mouth thinned. "You've been crying," he said, stating it; it was not a question. "Are you all right? Do you need a pain potion? Here," he went on, crossing the room, "Poppy gave me some things—"

"I probably shouldn't take it," I said quickly; no matter who the father was, I couldn't just potentially hurt my unborn child, given that it just as easily could have been Severus's. "Poppy should probably take a look at me..."

"Well, given that you clearly came through the Floo unsupervised, I'd say that's likely a good idea," Sirius replied, crossing his arms. He continued staring at me, before a wave of concern seemed to flow through him. "That still doesn't tell me why you're here alone, Cressida. Please tell me that Snape just dropped you off here because you asked for it, although it would make me very annoyed that he just left you alone in my sitting room."

I swallowed, before I finally shook my head. "No, he didn't bring me," I told him. "I left to come here on my own."

Sirius cautiously stepped toward me, almost as if he was approaching a wounded animal. "Are you still having problems with your memory?" he asked, and I gave him a sharp look. "Poppy told those close to you for your own safety," he went on quickly.

I bit down hard on my lower lip. "Who else knows?"

"Other than Poppy and Severus, Fleur does, along with Tonks, Remus, Minerva, Kingsley, Alastor, Harry, Ron, and Hermione," Sirius answered me honestly. "The others, the ones who are a part of the resistance and residing here, know, obviously, that you were captured by the Death Eaters, and likely sustained some trauma, but they don't know the details."

"The details," I answered bitterly, shaking my head and staring at a piece of carpet.

Sirius summoned a chair from his dining table, positioning it in front of the couch so that he could sit close to me, but not directly beside me, likely believing that giving me space until I invited further physical contact was the right way to go. "Did something happen, Cressida?" he asked, his voice quiet and non-judgmental. "You can tell me, you know."

I pulled my legs up to my chest again; it was cool in Sirius's sitting room, likely due to the heat of summer on the Hogwarts grounds, and it was pleasant on my bare arms. I merely wore a tank top and shorts, with bare feet, which was customary for me in warmer weather when it came to being comfortable in my rooms. I opened my mouth slowly then, before I snapped it shut; it wasn't that I didn't trust Sirius, far from it; but, in that moment, I wanted, more than anything, to speak to a woman about this. "Would... Would you bring Molly here?" I asked him at last, my voice breaking at the end.

Sirius's eyes widened, likely wagering a guess at what had happened to me, before he got to his feet and strode over to the Floo. He tossed in some powder, called out his destination, and stuck his head directly into the green flames. "Molly?" he called out.

"Sirius? What's wrong?" Molly called back from within.

"Could you come through, please? It's Cressida."

"Of course, Sirius," she said immediately. "One moment."

Sirius pulled his head back out, and waited for Molly to arrive. Once she did, he pressed a kiss to my forehead and left the room, not looking back.

Molly, meanwhile, summoned more pillows from the cupboard, propping them up against my back, which were considerably more comfortable that the smaller couch pillows I'd previously been leaning against. "I'm the mother of seven children, dear," she told me gently, pulling the chair Sirius had formally been occupying a bit closer to the couch. "I know when they're uncomfortable, even just a little." She gave me a soft smile, and I felt considerably more at ease in her presence. "Now, can I get you something to eat, love?"

I shuddered at the very thought of food; I knew, if I was going to keep this pregnancy, that I would need to eat eventually, but, in that moment, the very thought of food completely turned my stomach. "No, thank you, Molly," I said softly.

Molly nodded in understanding. "You were on nutrient potions until very recently," she said with a small nod. "Those will likely curb your appetite for the time being."

I sighed, thankful that she was being so pragmatic about all this, and wouldn't resort to force-feeding me. "Thank you," I said quietly.

Molly smiled. "Not a problem, dear. Now, what may I help you with?" she asked, and began smoothing out my blankets, as only a mother would.

"I... I do trust Sirius," I said, and Molly looked up at me. "Of course I do; he's my father. But, I really needed to speak to a woman about this..."

Molly nodded with a small smile. "Does this have anything to do with what happened to you after You-Know-Who took you, dear?"

I nodded at her. "Yes," I responded. "How much did everyone hear?"

Molly shook her head. "We didn't hear anything, really, dear. We just saw him when he captured you, plus speaking to Bellatrix for a moment, before they took you away."

I trembled, more tears filling my eyes. "Bellatrix suggested that they...offer...me to one of the more loyal Death Eaters," I whispered.

Molly swore under her breath. "Oh, Merlin, dear. He... He didn't...did he...?"

I nodded. "He did. Dolohov," I said, answering her second, unspoken question. "He took me into a room at what I think was Malfoy Manor and he raped me."

Molly immediately threw her arms around me when I choked by a sob upon my last two words, and I was clutching at her as if she were a lifeline. "Oh, dear, it will be all right," she told me in a soothing manner, rubbing my back.

"It won't be," I sobbed. "It won't be, Molly!" I cried, pulling back so that she could see my face completely. "Nothing about this will be all right!"

Molly smoothed my hair back from my face. "Why don't you believe it will be all right, Cressida?" she asked me quietly.

"Because I'm pregnant," I said, my voice hushed as I spoke the word. "I'm pregnant, and I have no idea who the father is!"

The door to Sirius's rooms banged open then, and Sirius himself hurried inside, Poppy at his heels, a kit in her hand. Molly sat back from our embrace, but kept ahold of my hand as Poppy hurried closer, once she saw the state of me. Sirius, meanwhile, paced back and forth, arms crossed, before he spelled the door shut and grimaced slightly.

"I told Severus you were to remain in bed for at least three days," Poppy was muttering to herself as she summoned a second chair, and perched beside Molly. "It's only been a day and a half... Not to mention the notion that you Floo'd in here, alone—"

"Poppy, that's enough!" Sirius snapped.

Molly, however, took a far gentler approach. "You're telling the poor dear things she's already aware of, Poppy," she said quietly. "Please, let us just begin the examination."

Poppy sighed, but nevertheless drew her wand. "You believe yourself to be pregnant, then, Cressida?" she asked.

I swallowed. "I know I'm pregnant, Poppy," I replied, Molly's hold upon my hand literally anchoring me to the very spot I sat.

Poppy, nevertheless, lifted her wand. "Graviditas Revelio," she said softly, and a purple light instantly surrounded my abdominal area. "That is a positive pregnancy test," she declared.

I shivered. "Can we... Can you figure out how far along I am?" I whispered.

Poppy peered at me. "Why would you ask, dear?"

Molly sighed at the question. "Well, the long and short of it is, Poppy, it seems as though while Cressida was taken by the Death Eaters, she..."

"I was raped!" I shouted, leading Sirius to whip his head around, his blue eyes filled with rage at my words.

"Who?" he growled, looking as if he would tear the culprit limb from limb if he could.

I trembled then, looking pleadingly at Molly.

Molly took me into her arms patiently then, rubbing my back, before she glared at Poppy and spoke to Sirius. "It was Dolohov," she told him.

Poppy sighed as Sirius proceeded to shout a series of expletives across the room. "Tempus Conceptionis," she uttered, a beam of silver light flowing from her wand, with the date 28 June 1995 gleaming in the air above my abdomen.

"A wedding night baby," Molly cried out.

I pulled myself out of her arms, gazing up at the date in the air, as my eyes filled with tears at what that meant—the child I carried belonged to Severus, conceived the night I had assisted him in achieving his freedom. I permitted myself to lower my hands onto my stomach for the first time, marveling at the life I'd created with my husband within me. "Is... Is the baby all right?" I found myself asking, chastising myself for only now caring about the child.

Poppy whispered, "Salutem ex Fetu," with the green bolt of light shining through as she beamed it, once again, at my abdomen, which, this time, glowed white. "You are carrying a healthy baby inside you, and look," she continued, pointing to the sparks and shimmers of purple which seemed to be dancing merrily throughout the white glow. "Do you know what that is?"

Still trembling, I shook my head. "No," I whispered.

Poppy smiled patiently at me, slightly indulgent. "It means you're going to have a witch in late-February or early March."

"Titania," I whispered softly, and the sparkles seemed to glow brighter once I gave a name to the sudden flow of love and devotion inside me.

"And she's healthy?" Sirius pressed, ever the protective grandfather-to-be.

"She is," Poppy confirmed, although I was fully absorbed with the life growing within me, relieved that she bore no connection to Dolohov. "They both are, despite the circumstances." She turned back to me, waiting until she'd caught my attention, before she spoke again. "I have some potions for you to take, Cressida."

I nodded. "Pregnancy potions?" I guessed.

"Yes," she replied, "but also some to prevent any residual dark magic from potentially wreaking havoc on your body, as well as several for WTIs," she told me.

I blinked; I didn't know what that meant. "WTIs?" I asked, cocking my head to one side. "What are those?"

Molly took me by the hand as Sirius swore aloud again from the other side of the room. "Wixen Transmitted Infections," she informed me softly, and we watched as Poppy dove into her kit and proceeded to look over what she had in stock. "The Muggles call them Sexually Transmitted Infections, or Diseases, but, as wixen, our genetic makeup is a bit different. Sometimes, if a dark incantation is given during the...assault," she whispered, "they can ensure a slave-bond between themselves and their assailant."

"Others render the one being assaulted a Squib," Sirius spat, clearly familiar with these lines of dark magic. "When your uncle, Regulus, joined the Death Eaters, I could hear whispered conversations between him and the rest of the Slytherins. A great many bloodlines within the Wizarding World were lost that way, unfortunately, due to the fact that anyone against what he was doing wouldn't be able to counteract it in time."

"Such potions weren't invented to counteract these until very recently, and were invented by Severus himself," Poppy said quietly, and I felt a burst of pride for my husband, despite the notion that he had walked out on me. "He sold the patent about a year before Harry joined the school, as a matter of fact, but spent years doing research on the subject."

Sirius sighed. "Of course, he did it under an assumed name, so that it wouldn't be traced back to him, on the off-chance You-Know-Who returned, or the other Death Eaters still at large wanted vengeance," he put in, watching as Poppy handed me the various potions. "I'll be the first to apologize to him for how many rumors I spread about how addicted he was to the Dark Arts, for, clearly, they did him some good, at the end of the day..."

I weighed the potions heavily in my hands. "They... They won't hurt my baby, will they?"

"No, dear," Poppy assured me. "I gave you the pregnancy-safe versions."

I blinked, amazed that my husband would have the forethought to invent two different lines of the potions, and downed them all. I was next administered the pregnancy potions, which had more of an appealing flavor—various fruits seemed to be literally bursting upon the surface of my tastebuds. I accepted a glass of cold water from Molly shortly thereafter, amazed that the sensation of nausea had left me completely.

"How are you feeling now, dear?" Molly asked.

"Better," I replied.

Poppy smiled. "Do you think you could eat something now?"

I nodded. "Yes," I replied.

"I'll summon Kreacher, then," Sirius replied, watching as Poppy moved to leave, and thanked her briefly. "It's high time you met him, of course, Cressida. He's been fixing up the family home, Grimmauld Place, for me, in the wake of my restoration as the heir to the House of Black."

I blinked, amazed that I had never contemplated my father owning a home before but, I supposed, as a Pureblood, he would likely have one of some kind. "Where is Grimmauld Place, then?" I asked.

"Islington," Sirius responded, "not too far away from Diagon Alley."

"Well, if you don't need me for anything else, Arthur and I were going to have lunch with the children," Molly said, getting to her feet, squeezing my hand again. "We've been taking dinner in the Great Hall these days, all of us. Do you think you'd be up to joining us there this evening, Cressida?" she asked.

I nodded. "I think so, Molly. Thank you, for everything... Um," I said, just as she was about to leave, "could you not say anything...about..."

Molly smiled. "Of course not, dear," she assured me. "That is your story to tell, if and when you wish to tell it."

"Thank you, Molly," I whispered, watching as she disappeared in the green flames, before I turned to face my father again. "I heard that Ollivander, the wandmaker, was in residence at the castle..."

Sirius nodded. "He is," he replied. "Why? Do you need to see him?"

I swallowed. "Dolohov... He snapped my wand," I whispered, and Sirius swore, yet again. "I was hoping for a meeting with Ollivander, to see if he might have a wand that suited me. Did he manage to bring any of his inventory here?"

Sirius nodded solemnly. "Yes. Minnie gave him a lavish suite of rooms at the opposite end of the corridor from the headmistress' rooms. He's been keeping to himself largely, but does come down to the Great Hall every evening, like clockwork, for dinner. I'm sure he'd be happy to meet with you, and there is never a fund for wixen who have had their wands unjustly snapped."

"Well, it will be lovely to meet him, then," I replied. "I have only been to Diagon a handful of times but have never needed to meet him beforehand."

Sirius smiled. "All of us remember our first time at Ollivander's; you'll be surprised to hear that he's likely already aware of your predicament, and will be expecting you."

I blinked. "Did someone tell him?"

Sirius shook his head. "No one had to tell him, Cressida. He just knows." He perched upon the arm of the couch opposite me, and said, "I'll call Kreacher now. Be warned, he is a crochety old beast, and likely will insult you for daring to be born to a French witch out of wedlock. However, he will also take the notion that you are a Pureblood, as well as a Black, and now a Snape, into account, for he deeply respected Snape himself."

I pulled the blanket that covered me slightly closer; despite what I imagined to be summer weather outside, the castle permitted my father's rooms to be kept cool, as he preferred to snuggle underneath his blankets no matter the season, a trait I'd inherited from him. "Where is Morgana?" I asked, inwardly cursing myself for not thinking of her earlier.

"Tonks has her in her suite of rooms near Ravenclaw Tower," Sirius informed me calmly. "Her parents are just down the corridor from there, and Remus... Well, Tonks is attempting to convince him to leave the chambers reserved for the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to live with her."

I smirked at that; Tonks could be plenty persuasive when she wanted to. "And how do you feel about that?" I asked. "Your best friend getting with your favorite cousin, I mean."

"Well, Ted and Dromeda seem to like him fine," Sirius replied. "Of course, that came with Minnie offering him his position, as well as Head of Gryffindor House next term, and my rousing endorsement, of course," he went on, puffing out his chest in a moment of boyish pride at his best friends' happiness. "At the end of it all, they want their only child to be happy, and if Remus makes her happy, they'll support the relationship."

I knew entirely well that, given what I'd seen of Remus and Tonks together, that they were a good match, and would do well together. A rumbling within my stomach distracted me from my thoughts, however, and I looked sheepishly up at my father. "I think you calling Kreacher now would be a good course of action right about now," I said shyly.

Sirius chuckled. "Kreacher!" he called out.

There was a pop, and, just a moment later, a wizened-looking house-elf stood before the couch; he had milky-white eyes, leading me to believe that he was blind or house-elves eyes did that sort of thing in old age. He had scraggly bits of white hair growing around his large ears, was pigeon-toed, and was dressed in a stained, ragged-looking pillow case, much to my consternation at that last. "What can I be doing for Master Sirius?" he growled.

"First of all, Kreacher, I am not alone," Sirius barked, much to my shock, and he nodded in my direction immediately.

Kreacher turned his face towards me, his eyes widening a fraction. "Ah, yes. Your beautiful daughter, who is carrying on the Snape line, as well as that of the House of Black," he declared, in a slightly more polite tone of voice, and bowed deeply to me, shocking me. "And what can Kreacher be doing for Mistress Cressida?" he asked.

"Some lunch, Kreacher, if you would be so kind," I said softly, which seemed to amaze my father at my tone of voice. "Oh, and Kreacher, you are permitted to wear a clean uniform, if you would prefer," I continued, smiling at him.

Kreacher beamed at my words, although his teeth were cracked and yellowing, before he snapped his fingers; the bits of hair around his ears vanished, his eyes became clearer, and he now wore a spiffy-looking toga, which was embroidered with a B for the Black name. He also carried himself better, was not hunched over, and his legs were no longer bowed. "What can Kreacher be bringing Mistress Cressida for lunch? Anything, anything," he was quick to add, almost as if I was an empress.

"A Caesar salad, please, Kreacher, to begin with," I said, and the house-elf nodded. "A roasted chicken, scalloped potatoes, chilled sparkling apple cider, and chocolate lava cake with vanilla ice cream for pudding. Oh," I said, marveling at my sudden appetite, "could you please prepare the scalloped potatoes with gruyere, sharp cheddar, and mozzarella, please?"

Kreacher bowed to me, his long nose nearly brushing the carpet beneath him. "Kreacher will bring that directly, Mistress Cressida," he declared, before he rose upwards, regarding Sirius for a moment. "And you, master?" he asked.

Sirius still appeared stunned. "The same, Kreacher. Thank you," he said, adding that last in, but still was shocked.

Kreacher bowed once more before he popped away.

"I... I have never seen that before," he whispered. "He hasn't looked like that since Walburga was alive..."

"Was that your mother?" I asked, leaning back on the couch.

"Yes, terrible woman," Sirius confirmed. "My father was called Orion." He looked up at me and smiled. "They didn't approve of your mother, so, naturally, they wouldn't have approved of you, which makes me love you all the more, my girl."

I was about to say something more to him, when suddenly the door seemed to slam open, and Minerva stood there, looking quite perturbed. "Minerva?" I asked, my voice confused.

"Minnie?" Sirius asked, getting to his feet. "Has something happened?"

Minerva looked around the room, clearly worried. "The Heads of House—Pomona, Filius, Remus, and Severus—as well as myself, were due to meet a half hour ago to have our July meeting... It was pushed back, as you can understand, due to the influx of wixen we've had come to stay at the castle..."

I straightened at that. "Did... Did Severus not show up?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Minerva shook her head. "No, dear, he didn't. Did something happen?"

"I... I got my memories back," I said, and Minerva looked slightly relieved at that fact. "I told Severus what had happened to me... I... Dolohov attacked me, and I realized I was pregnant, and so he left," I said, gritting my teeth to prevent my eyes from filling with tears. "Poppy left a few minutes ago, telling me that Severus was the father..."

Minerva looked apoplectic at that. "Dear Merlin, he's likely gone to Malfoy Manor or to Riddle House to kill Dolohov," she whispered, the fear palpable in her voice.

"He's not marked anymore," I breathed, my heart entering my throat. "The moment he gets there, if he can even satisfy his mission, he'll be killed..." I reached downwards and cradled my stomach, sobbing all over again. "Our little girl will never know her father..."

"Minnie, you've got to let us put a search party together," Sirius said firmly.

"Absolutely!" I cried out, throwing the blanket aside.

"A search party will be permitted, but you will be staying here, young lady," Sirius said, glaring at me in a fatherly way.

"But that's my husband!" I said, shaking my head.

"Yes, and you've just admitted to carrying his child," Minerva said, coming to stand beside me and place a hand on my shoulder. "Despite everything, Severus would never forgive himself if you and his child came to danger."

I gritted my teeth again. "I can't just sit here," I grumbled.

"You can and you will," Sirius told me, turning back to Minerva. "I'll need to speak with Remus, Filius, Tonks, Kings, and Mad-Eye, at the very least," he continued, as I fumed from my place on the couch. "They're all of age, and quite strong in their own right. Perhaps Kings could get some other wixen together, who are prepared to fight for the cause..."

"Don't tell Harry, Ron, and Hermione about it," I told them. "You know entirely well that they'll stop at nothing to help, and we can't have them do it. Ron and Hermione are only fifteen, and Harry is still fourteen until the end of the month. We have to figure out a way to get them sufficiently distracted enough... Perhaps I could invite them here for lunch?" I offered lamely, knowing entirely well that they would temporarily hate me for the deception.

Minerva sighed. "You're quite right, Cressida, quite right," she said, nodding.

Sirius approached me, pressing a fatherly kiss onto my forehead. "Why don't you invite Mr. Ollivander to lunch as well, Cressida?" he asked. "Harry, Ron, and Hermione will likely be interested in speaking to him, and you can tell him about your lack of wand. Perhaps, after lunch, you could test a few and see if there's a match."

I nodded. "That's an excellent idea, Dad," I replied, leading for him to beam at the notion that I was calling him that again. "Of course, Molly mentioned having lunch with them, but I'm sure they'd rather come here," I joked.

"Tell Kreacher about the change of plans," Sirius suggested, summoning some things out of his bedroom area, likely things to aid them in the rescue of my husband. "He'll make sure that there is plenty of food to go around."

"I'll ask for some pumpkin juice," I told him, knowing that it was Harry's favorite drink, despite my aversion to the stuff.

I accepted Minerva's congratulations on my pregnancy, and listened as Sirius told me to let him know via Harry, Ron, or Hermione if I wanted anything, due to the fact that I still had yet to invite Ollivander to lunch. Once my father had left with the headmistress, I knew that the first order of business was to see if I could walk at all, as Poppy hadn't told me that I had to be completely immobile, and slowly drew the blanket back from the couch. I swung my legs off over the side of the couch, pressing them onto the floor, and eased myself upwards into the best standing position I could.

Although I wobbled ever so slightly, I managed to find my footing as I took slow, careful steps from one direction to the other throughout Sirius's rooms. I knew I would have to ask Kreacher to bring me some sort of outfit from my rooms with Severus, and I would desperately want to take a shower before I entertained any guests, despite my closeness to Harry and his two best friends. Looking around, I spotted a fashionable secretary desk across the room, and I knew I could write a note to Harry as well as Ollivander, and have Kreacher deliver them personally.

Knowing entirely well that Harry would share the pertinent information with Ron and Hermione, I managed to cross the room over towards the desk, and eased myself into the chair. I scrawled an informal note to Harry, given that our relationship was more like that of siblings, and then set out to give a formal invitation to Ollivander. I didn't know how one was to address a wandmaker at all, so I decided upon Pureblood etiquette, knowing entirely well that being just a bit too formal was significantly better than too informal.

I mulled everything over in my mind as made quick work of signing my name, and wondered if Kreacher would be angry at being taken away from lunch preparations. Remembering the house-elf I'd met on the day of my wedding, Dobby, I decided upon a different tactic. "Dobby?" I called out.

Dobby immediately popped into existence, smiling pleasantly up at me. "How can Dobby be helping Mistress Cressida?" he asked.

"I have some tasks for you, Dobby, if you don't mind," I replied, and Dobby nodded furiously, his ears flapping quite merrily. "I have two letters here—one for Harry, and one for the wandmaker, Mr. Ollivander."

Dobby bounced up and down. "Is Mistress Cressida wanting Dobby to deliver these to great Master Harry Potter, and Master Ollivander?" he asked eagerly.

"Yes, Dobby," I told him, nodding. "I would then appreciate it if you could go into my rooms that I share with Severus, get me an appropriate outfit for lunch, as well as my essentials from the ensuite," I said.

Dobby grinned. "Dobby would be happy to do this for Mistress Cressida!" he proclaimed, and held out his hand for the letters I'd written, which I gave him. "Dobby will be quick and hurry back!" he squeaked, before popping away.

I smiled, pleased at his antics, and hoping that giving my lunch guests an hour would be enough time, as well as the notion that I would be meeting Garrick Ollivander for the first time. I was thankful when Dobby returned with some clothes, as well as my shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, which he placed directly into Sirius's bathroom. I thanked him again, telling him that I would, of course, summon him if I needed him again, before he popped away again. I got to my feet again and meandered towards Sirius's en suite, holding onto the edges of the walls as I went so that I didn't topple over.

"Mama's going slowly, isn't she?" I asked Titania, who seemed to flutter ever so slightly from where she was within me.

I managed to get into the ensuite without causing injury to myself, let alone breaking anything, and was filled with immense relief once the water was adjusted to the right temperature. I stripped my clothes and set them aside, intent upon asking them to be laundered, but was pleasantly surprised when they disappeared automatically, once they hit the floor. Thinking that this was the castles' magic at its best, I merely shrugged my shoulders got to into the shower, washing as efficiently as I could, not wanting to be dripping wet when my company arrived to take lunch with me.

I finished showering after around fifteen minutes, wrapping one of Sirius's towels around me as I did so, pleased that it was of the softer variety. I inspected the outfit that Dobby had brought for me, relieved that it was a simple, yet comfortable, pale blue summer dress, complete with a light brown belt, along with a pair of white sandals. I brushed my hair and used non-verbal magic to dry it accordingly, so it fell in waves down my back. I also did a non-verbal spell for my teeth, and the residual that develops when you're asleep disappeared.

I made my way back out into the living room, surprised to see that a beautiful rosewood table had been placed behind the couch, in between it and the kitchenette. A green tablecloth with small, white decorative flowers was placed upon its surface, and there were five chairs situated around it. Serviettes, wrapped in sterling silver rings with the crest of the Black family adorning them, were placed to the left of the china plates and small bowls, which had the House of Black crest around their rims. There were genuine silver candlesticks as well, each holding a candle in an attractive shade of green, and there were silver carving knives, a salad and dinner fork, as well as spoons for pudding placed just so around the plates as well, not to mention the large bottles of pumpkin and apple juice accompanying them.

I was so lost in the reverie of the notion that Kreacher had done this for me that I almost didn't hear the knock at the door. I immediately snapped out of it and made my way there directly, and, as I opened it, smiled at Harry, Ron, and Hermione standing there. "Come in," I said, moving out of the way as I did so. I stared out into the corridor and gasped; there was an elderly gentleman just behind them, with a kind face and wild, white hair. "Mr. Ollivander?" I asked, leading my three teenage guests to turn around in curiosity.

"Madam Snape, it is an honor," he responded, taking my hand and bowing over it. "Such a shame about your first wand, my dear," he continued, smiling at me as he stepped into the room behind Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "A pear wand, 11¾", unyielding, with a phoenix feather core, quite extraordinary..."

I blinked, amazed that he was aware of such a thing. "That's right," I confirmed, nodding my head at his words. "You know Madame Cosima?" I asked, naming the proprietress of Baguettes Magiques de Cosme Acajor, who was the daughter of Cosme.

"Oh, yes. We wandmakers are always aware of one another," Ollivander informed me, his eyes alight with passion, "and I have always admired her." The old wandmaker made his way towards the coffee table in the center of the living area and reached into his cloak pocket, drawing out several small boxes, which he enlarged and placed onto the table. "Let us see which wand will suit you next, shall we?"

I shut the door behind me and crossed the room at the fascination which flowed through me as the various boxes were opened, presented for me as if they were the finest delicacies. I could see the expert craftsmanship within each stick of wood, and was wholeheartedly impressed, as I sensed Harry, Ron, and Hermione were. "Beautiful," I whispered.

"As Mr. Weasley is sure to remember," Ollivander continued, "I do something a bit different with wixen who are obtaining their second wands."

"It's wicked," Ron confirmed, while Harry and Hermione nodded, leading me to believe that they had been made aware of his experience.

"While I present potential wands to the wixen upon the occasion of them receiving their Hogwarts letters at the age of eleven, when a second wand is obtained, the ceremony, as I call it, is a bit different." He turned around to face me with a smile. "You are quite a bit different now, at the age of eighteen, than you were at eleven, Madam Snape. Your power was, likely, raw, undefined, just lurking beneath the surface, waiting to be discovered. Now, you're hungry for greatness, despite achieving so much of it in your young life. You have discovered your true identity, now that you have been made aware of who your biological father is. You have passed your examinations, and work in a prestigious position within the Auror Office of the Ministry of Magic. You successfully saved a former Death Eater from continued servitude of You-Know-Who, and married him, finding much happiness within that union. You are talented, Madam Snape, confident, powerful... Now, you must bid your new wand to come to you, when you focus on it entirely. Go on," he whispered, standing back, while Harry, Ron, and Hermione did the same, and nodded, permitting me to concentrate fully upon the wands, my new wand.

I gazed at the boxes spread reverently on the coffee table, knowing entirely well that I had to summon my new wand with my magical core. I shut my eyes, going inside myself, until I caught a glimpse of my magical core; it was sage green, with tendrils of lavender swirling around it, as well as scarlet flames blanketing its base. I knew entirely well that the sage green represented wisdom and calmness; the lavender signified femininity and optimism; and, finally, the scarlet epitomized passion. I thought of Severus, of my complicated feelings for him, and wondered if he would ever accept the notion that the child growing inside me was, indeed, his. I thought of my accomplishments in the Wizarding World, as well as the discovery of who I was, as well as the notion that Dumbledore wanted nothing more than to keep it from me. And, at last, I thought of my child, my beautiful daughter, who I never even anticipated having, who would, one day, grow into a lovely witch of her own—

My eyes snapped open then and I threw up my hand, watching with excitement as a wand suddenly lifted out of the box and zoomed over to me. I caught it in midair, leading Harry, Ron, and Hermione to collectively gasp and applaud my efforts. I lowered the wand so that I could see it, and marveled at the firmness of the wood; it was dark and straight, with what appeared to be an ornate queen chess piece carved to its base, and extended outwards, thinning as it went, but just slightly, so as it wouldn't be automatically noticeable to the untrained eye. I was pulled out of my reverie by Ollivander applauding softly from beside me, and my gaze automatically turned towards him as he approached me slowly.

He took the wand from me once I'd handed it over, caressing the wood lovingly. "Ah, a lovely piece indeed," he praised. "12½", willow, unyielding, with a phoenix feather core." He looked at me with a smile, nodding his head in approval. "A wise choice, Madam Snape," he praised, and returned it to me.

"Cressida, please, Mr. Ollivander," I said, turning at the scent of something, and was surprised to see that our lunch had arrived, as well as the notion that the chicken had been carved, the salad tossed and put into the bowls, and the potatoes had been portioned out. "Oh," I said, amazed at the notion that all had been done so quietly. Beyond the table, upon the kitchen counter, were five individual chocolate lava cakes, along with generous servings of vanilla ice cream, all placed lovingly beneath a Stasis Charm.

As the hostess, I had to sit at the head of the table, as Pureblood tradition dictated, while Mr. Ollivander, as the seniormost member of our luncheon party, had to take the foot. Ron and Hermione took one side of the table, while Harry sat on his own to my right, as he was the next ranking member within wizarding society. All this was described in great detail by Hermione, while Mr. Ollivander and I listened politely, Harry slightly curiously, and Ron, meanwhile, being bored out of his mind.

"Salad course first, I think," I said, and all of us pulled our bowls over to us. "Oh!" I cried out, pleasantly surprised at the taste of the dressing. "Kreacher, wherever you are, I want you to know that this dressing is delicious."

We were all regaled by a great many tales of Mr. Ollivander's years as a wandmaker, and some interesting tidbits along the way. According to the aged wizard, the wood of the wand would latch on to a particular wixen with a specific personality type, and the cores, durability, and length would follow suit. He mentioned how he himself didn't typically export certain woods but that other wandmakers used them instead, likely due to the notion that they lived in the proper area to use the materials in question.

"All this was lovely," Mr. Ollivander said, once pudding had been eaten. "It was very kind of you to invite me to luncheon, Madam Snape. Perhaps we will be seeing you in the Great Hall for dinner, now that you've recovered?"

I nodded, pleased that he didn't go into further detail, likely understanding that I wanted to tell Harry, Ron, and Hermione in my own way. "Yes, I believe so, Mr. Ollivander. Poppy told me that light exercise would do me good to aid in my resurgence."

"Quite right, my dear, quite right," Mr. Ollivander responded. He thanked me again before he got to his feet, gathered up the rest of his wand inventory, and left the room.

I watched as the used dishes and cutlery disappeared without me having to ask, while the linens went off somewhere to be laundered, and the serviette rings, candles, and their sticks disappeared somewhere as well. I leaned back in the throne-like seat, wanting more than anything to be more comfortable, although the sensation of Hermione's eyes fixed upon me didn't do very well in keeping my nerves calm. "Yes?" I asked her.

Hermione grinned at me. "Don't hide it, Cressida, not from us!" she begged, her brown eyes sparkling with glee. "You're pregnant, aren't you?"

"Pregnant?!" Harry and Ron demanded together.

"But, Hermione, I thought you had to wait at least a month before a woman or a doctor knew something like that!" Harry protested.

"You're thinking like a Muggle, Harry," Hermione informed him patiently. "In the Wizarding World, healers, witches, or some wizards who have the ability to conceive a child can detect a pregnancy very quickly," she explained, turning back to me. "So, Cressida? Are you pregnant, then?" she asked.

I sighed, slowly getting to me feet and motioning for them to come to the sitting area, which they all did, willingly. "You know that I was kidnapped by the Death Eaters?" I asked them, despite the notion that they'd been kept away from the battle, as well as ushered out of the Great Hall by Mrs. Weasley upon my return.

Harry nodded, his green eyes flashing angrily. "Yeah. Did they hurt you?"

I bit my lip, momentarily pleased that, for once, Hermione didn't admonish Harry for his direct questioning of me. "Yes, they did," I replied. "Sirius's cousin, Bellatrix, who is also Narcissa Malfoy and Andromeda Tonks' sister, told him to hand me over to Dolohov, who is a sadist, as well as a very loyal Death Eater."

Ron's complexion took on that of curdled milk. "Blimey," he whispered. "There are rumors of what he tells his followers to do to insubordinate women, ones that he wants to syphon power off of..." He shook his head, looking disturbed. "He's the one who did it, then?"

Hermione looked back and forth between Harry and Ron, momentarily confused, before she looked back over at me. "Dear Merlin," she whispered. "Cressida, were you raped?"

I wrapped my arms around myself. "Yes," I said, the happy air of our luncheon completely forgotten as I forced myself to speak. I knew that there were certain things that the three of them would, typically, be too young to hear about; however, this was a war, and they had to be aware of all the potential dangers lurking around every corner. "I was. Dolohov did it under his orders, and it's why Severus and I aren't speaking right now."

"Not speaking?" Harry demanded. "Why not?!"

Hermione looked discouraged. "Oh, no," she whispered. "Did Professor Snape think that the baby... That it wasn't his?"

I nodded, the movement a jerky one. "He did," I replied, hating myself as I spoke the following words of the well-rehearsed lie I'd been going over since Sirius and Minerva had decided to go and rescue him. "He's decided to take a few days to get away for a while. He frequently harvests the rarer, hard-to-find potions ingredients over the summer. I suppose that he wants to take this opportunity to do so now..."

"It isn't Dolohov's, is it?" Ron asked, looking down at my stomach.

"No," I told him, not wanting to keep any of them in suspense, and he, plus Harry and Hermione, visibly relaxed at the proclamation. "There is a potion that one can take to remove the pregnancy early on, although there really isn't anything to report at this stage. I'm nearly two weeks along at this point, so it wouldn't be as if it's fully formed or anything like that... It's a witch," I said, answering the next unspoken question, and Hermione smiled at that, "and I've already decided to name her Titania."

"That's a lovely name," Harry put in, obviously wanting to contribute to the conversation, and cocked his head to one side. "What does it mean?"

"It means 'great one'," Hermione told Harry patiently, "and Cressida is following in the footsteps of the Black family women, by naming their children after constellations, stars, or moons in the solar system."

I blinked, amazed that Hermione knew all that, as well as the notion that the name, as beautiful as it was, had just suddenly come to me like that, especially given that it fell into that particular category. "It just came to me," I found myself admitting to them, leading to three different pairs of eyes to gaze upon me. "Makes me wonder if it happens to other families..."

Ron smirked. "Maybe," He replied, "sure didn't happen to Mum, though." He caught Hermione and Harry staring at him, so he quickly replied, "Dad's related to the Blacks—his mum was a black, Grandmum Cedrella. One of the Blacks also married into the Potter family; her name was Dorea, meaning that Cressida, Harry, and I are all connected somehow. Pureblood logic," he said, chuckling.

Hermione blinked, clearly impressed with him. "That's amazing, Ron. How do you remember all of that?" she wanted to know.

Ron shrugged. "Dad taught us a bit of the family history," he admitted. "He's not zealous about it or anything, but he definitely respects generations' past, given that, without them, none of us would be here, and all..."

Hermione pursed her lips at that. "Now, if you would just pay attention like that on your school work..."

"Hey!"

"Don't you 'hey' me, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione told him firmly. "We have OWLs next year, and you know very well that hand holding is not considered an acceptable practice once exam period begins!"

"Maybe you could take this somewhere else?" Harry asked, cutting into Hermione's rant. "All this stress can't be good for Cressida..."

Hermione, taking the hint, grabbed Ron by the arm and hauled him over to the door. "We'll see you for dinner, Cressida!" she called over her shoulder, the door opening automatically for her as she pushed Ron through it. "And furthermore—!" she continued as the door swung shut.

"You're hiding something."

My eyes immediately snapped to Harry's, and I raised my eyebrows at him. "What? What are you talking about?"

Harry huffed. "Hermione's too much of an academic, and Ron is too busy figuring out his next meal in between their snogging sessions," he replied. "Harvesting potions ingredients? Really, Cressida," he continued, shaking his head. "You've barely been married a week, and already you've banished yourself to Sirius's rooms."

I swallowed then, making a grab for and wrapping the couch blanket around myself again, hoping beyond hope that it would afford me a sense of security. "You know entirely well that many of the professors here need something to occupy their time during the various breaks afforded to them throughout the year, not just limited to the Easter holidays," I told him primly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and I'm sure Snape spends plenty of time getting ingredients or making potions or reading his bloody books on the subject," he said, obviously growing annoyed and impatient with me. "But, come on, Cressida. The two of you should be having a bloody honeymoon instead of this."

I scoffed. "In case you'd failed to realize, there was a plot made on your life by a madman not too long ago, and so many of us are in hiding in a thousand-year-old castle in Scotland, biding our time until a suitable plan can be made to stop the madman in question," I told him, really feeling like he was the younger brother I'd never had in this moment. "The only option for having a honeymoon would be to convince Hogwarts to make us a temporary tropical paradise or venture out into the world as Muggles. Sure, we're friends with the Minister of Magic, but I don't think approving an international Portkey is at the top of his list at the moment, Harry," I went on, crossing my arms.

"I know there's a ruddy madman on the loose, Cressida—it's me he wants to murder at the end of it all," Harry informed me, his tone just a bit condescending. "I just think that you're lying, and I hate it when people lie—"

"Why would I lie to you?!" I demanded, my voice raising as I cut him off. "I have no reason to lie to you, do I?"

"You would, if you think you're protecting me, which would be misguided, considering I faced down the madman when I was a baby," Harry countered.

I leaned back on the couch, tilting my head upwards ever so slightly so that I could gaze up at the inconspicuous ceiling, the irritation bubbling just underneath my skin. "Change of subject."

"No, you're not getting out of this one, Cressida," Harry countered, his voice rough as only a teenage boys' could be as he attempted to keep his temper with me. "What in Merlin's name is going on?"

I gritted my teeth. "You really don't want to stress me out, Harry. The baby—"

"The baby will be fine," Harry said bluntly, cutting across me this time. "I know you think I'm some stupid kid, but I'm not."

I looked up again, locking eyes with him. "I would never think you're stupid, Harry. In case you've forgotten, I defended you first to Hermione, and then to Ron, about how you didn't put your name into the Goblet of Fire. In fact, Ron practically assaulted me for defending you. Yes, it was during an allergic reaction, but the fact remains, I stood up for you in the past, by proclaiming that you wouldn't do something as stupid as entering a tournament clearly earmarked for participants who aren't underage."

Harry lowered his eyes at my words, clearly a bit ashamed, due to his ears tinging red as the memories washed over him. "Yeah, I suppose so..."

I sighed, the fire going out of me as quickly as it had come, and I ran a hand along my stomach; I knew entirely well that it could be months before I started showing, but the notion that Severus and I had literally created a little witch was not lost on me, and filled me with something akin to brilliance. "Look, I don't think you're stupid, and you may not be a child, Harry, but you're still young," I said softly, and he raised his eyes to mine again. "You were given a rotten deal when it came to a childhood, and I'm sorry for that." I gave him a small smile. "Maybe, if things had been different, I don't know... If Sirius was still accused, and hadn't gotten his pardon from Kingsley like that, once we knew that I was Sirius's daughter, I would have petitioned for custody of you."

Harry blinked, straightening up at that. "You would have?"

"I absolutely would have," I assured him. "I ordinarily have no issues with Muggles, but it's plain to see that you were put in a terrible situation."

Harry swallowed. "How did you know?"

"The way you looked, when it was first brought up how you lived with relatives," I said quietly, remembering that day in the Great Hall, and how long ago it seemed to be now.

Harry swallowed. "It's... It's nice, being here at the castle, and not having to go home for the summer," he admitted. "Of course, now that Sirius has his pardon, my parents' original stipulations can be put in place for my wellbeing. If this war ends and I'm still underage, I'll go to live with him at Grimmauld Place, I guess." He shrugged his shoulders. "It's nice, being around people I can trust..."

I sighed again, knowing entirely well that I shouldn't, but also knew that I needed Harry to trust me; after all, he was my family, at the end of things. "Do you really want to know what's going on?" I whispered.

Harry blinked. "You're actually going to tell me?"

I bit my lip. "I shouldn't. Sirius told me I shouldn't, but..."

"But what?" he asked.

"But he may be my father, but I'm also an adult, married, with my own career, a roof over my head, and a child on the way," I said, straightening up, unknowing what kind of hell it would ultimately bring, once Harry knew the truth. "I'm not beholden to him..."

"What's going on?" Harry whispered.

I trembled then, remembering Severus's expression as he left the room, as the cold dread that I'd kept at bay suddenly caught hold of me once more. "I think Severus is going to kill Dolohov," I whispered, and Harry straightened up at that, "Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Kingsley, and Alastor have gone after him, and I have no idea how any of them are going to make it out alive..."