Your Baby is the Size of A...

6 Week - Your baby is the size of a sweet pea

"Severus, my dear boy - some tea," Dumbledore asked from the doorway, his tone brooking no argument - as though this was a pleasant surprise, and not as though Severus had been called from his marking at the beck of the Headmaster.

"No, thank you," he replied curtly, allowing his body to fold into the chair across from Dumbledore.

"I have peppermint," the Headmaster lilted, head canted invitingly.

He sighed. "One cup, then."

Dumbledore smiled victoriously, as a house elf appeared moments later with tea and crumpets. Staring at the unassuming cakes, he could almost taste them - which not only made him hungry, it made him nauseous. Severus gratefully took the proffered teacup, knuckles clenched tight around the handle. He took a sip, letting the taste wash over his tongue. The bright taste soothed the sick feeling churning in his stomach, briefly. He'd found that peppermint worked better than chamomile - but neither worked quite as well as he'd have liked.

"You have Poppy rather worried, dear boy." Albus said, nibbling at a crumpet and watching him attentively. "Perhaps . . . you could let her know it's not as bad as it seems?"

He scoffed. "Not as bad as it seems? Poppy read the same things I did - she's well aware of what's to come of this," he finally said.

Albus leaned forward marginally, head cocked inquisitively - and Severus got the impression that they were not longer talking just about his situation. Of course, it wouldn't hurt to refuse to play along, he thought.

"Which is?" Thick eyebrows rose at the question.

"I get sick - I stay sick. Good chance I die; even better chance the child dies."

There. All the pretty details laid out for Dumbledore's perusal.

The Headmaster made a noncommittal hum at the back of his throat - as though unconvinced that Severus could succumb to death after all they'd been through - while sipping his tea. "How are you holding up, then? I notice you've been - rather absent from the Great Hall at mealtimes."

He waved his hand nonchalantly, sipping his tea if only to focus on something other than Albus's attention on him. It had always made his chest tight, the unerring affection and concern. Something his own household had lacked - both in and away from school.

"Managing," Severus said, forcing his voice to be brighter than it should have been.

"I worry about you, Severus." A hand curled over his forearm - bone, skin, fabric away from the faded Dark Mark. "I always do."

"I know you're speaking with Poppy - she knows all about my woes with this situation," he said drolly, lips twisting at woes - which was rapidly becoming how he felt.

"She does tell me things - I still worry though. We've grown . . . close in the last twenty years, Severus. I will always worry." Severus snorted, eyes rolling a bit as he took another sip of tea - thankful that the cups were enchanted to keep the liquid warm.

"Do you plan on telling Remus," Dumbledore asked, eyes bright and twinkling over his glasses.

The old fool is probably already planning mine and Lupin's wedding, he thought angrily. "I should think not. Immaculate conception, as it were, fits in rather nicely with a man being pregnant," Severus said, tone sharp and dry.