Your Baby is the Size of A...

14 Weeks - Your baby is the size of a peach

"I'm so glad you joined me," Albus said, eyes twinkling as Severus sat down.

He made a noise in the back of his throat. "As though I had a choice, Headmaster."

"You always have a choice, dear boy. Surely, you know that."

Of course, various memories from the last twenty years attested to a rather different viewpoint, but Severus let it go – choosing to sip at his tea instead. The minty flavor steeped into his tongue and rather left him wishing for a strong cup of oolong.

"So . . . Poppy tells me you're, ah – filling out nicely, my boy."

Severus choked on his tea, the scalding liquid taking his trachea to his lungs and leaving him spluttering pitifully. Albus pounded roughly on his upper back, face creased in concern.

"Are you all right, Severus?"

Sucking in a deep breath through his nose once the coughing had calmed, Severus managed to offer up a tight-lipped almost-smile. "Perfectly fine." He took a sip of tea. A cramp bit at his stomach, twisting itself up in his intestines. Letting out a puff of breath, Severus pressed his hand to the side of Bump, applying the pressure he was rapidly discovering the little devil liked.

Dumbledore was giving him a look, eyes glittering and moist. "Oh dear," the older man muttered, obviously enthralled.

"Quite." Severus rubbed his stomach gently, peering down at the place Bump resided. So far, the teaching robes were still roomy enough to hide his growing belly. His shirt and vest were only a little tight – he hadn't had to magic them bigger yet.

"Perhaps you would be more comfortable without the robes," Dumbledore asked, eyebrows lifting with his tone.

"I'm fine," Severus bit out sipping his tea, trying to shake the distastefulness of Albus suggesting he disrobe. He watched warily as the Headmaster leaned forward in his chair.

"My dear boy," Albus started, eyes unbelievably bright and soft as he spoke. "Do you mind . . ." and he trailed off, hands lifted in a question of permission – then, taking Severus's silence as consent, were cupping his belly through the thick wool of his academic robes.

Severus was shocked into motionlessness, staring down at the foreign hands spread along his baby bump. Though he supposed it was something he should begin to get accustomed to – it seemed as though every time Minerva managed to catch him alone, her hands were automatically cupping Bump.

The gesture, he found, was rather intimate – and looking down at those wrinkled, ancient fingers standing starkly white against his black robes making Severus very grateful he had kept them on. Pressure mounted in his chest, but he beat the stress back – reminding himself this was Albus Dumbledore, the man who had taken such great lengths upon himself to save Severus time and time again. Bump gave a flutter, a half-shift in its bed of his guts, and Albus positively cooed.

"Oh my! You're rather active for being so young!" Dumbledore flashed Severus an enchanted smile. "A future quidditch player, perhaps?"

He made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.

"Poppy said that the baby – Bump, I think you call it? – is the size of a lemon?" Another cheerful smile. "How delightful, my dear boy!"

"A peach," he corrected, resisting the urge to pull away from the older man. Those hands were still on Bump, and Severus was beginning to get anxious. He wondered at what point it would be appropriate to kindly tell Albus to take his hands off him.

"Have you told Remus, then," the Headmaster asked; gaze still wistfully focused on Bump – as though he was suddenly regretting his decision to never have children of his own, to never be able to dote on grandchildren. Even though the older wizard had devoted his life to the education, safety, and upbringing of Hogwarts's students, Severus knew there was a sizeable difference.

"It hasn't come up," he remarked, placing his tea down and trying to discretely shy away from the continued contact with the Headmaster. Dumbledore just moved with him, maintaining the tender grip on Bump as though Severus had merely shifted in discomfort due to the growing child in his belly.

"He asks after you, you know." An almost conspiratorial smile. "We have tea at least once a week, and somehow your name always comes up."

"How quaint," Severus remarked drily, trying not to glower at the older wizard.

"Oh yes, he certainly cares for you Severus," Albus continued, smiling gaily. Drawing in a deep breath, Severus pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Do try to keep from discussing me during your Potter Fanclub meetings. Lupin seems rather unable to take a hint, and I don't want you giving him any encouragement."

The older wizard leaned forward, and for a second, Severus was worried that Dumbledore was going to rub his cheek against Bump. The mounting anxiety in his chest was a keen sensation, making his chest tight. He drew in a breath, trying to calm his nerves.

"I think Remus would rather enjoy the opportunity to be a father, Severus." A soft smile. "And I certainly know he'd like the opportunity to be with you." Bushy eyebrows lifted suggestively.

"My relationship – or lack thereof – with Lupin is none of your concern, Headmaster."

He really wished Albus would let him go, but aside from prizing the elder's hands from Bump, Severus still hadn't worked out a polite way out of Dumbledore's touch. And while, as a rule, Severus Snape didn't do politeness, he figured he owed Albus enough to at least try. Thankfully, Dumbledore let him go and sat back in his chair, humming to himself as he cast a rewarming spell on his tea. Severus let out an imperceptible sigh and picked up his own cup. The peppermint had cooled substantially, despite the charmed cup, and left an almost chalky note on his tongue – making him scowl. He set his teacup back down, grimacing. Albus had begun to ramble on about something, and he was trying to get invested to be involved in the conversation – but he felt very tired and worn thin.

Severus touched just under his nose, feeling a little drip and rubbing the side of his index finger against it to collect it. He was a little unsettled to see his pale skin brushed with a smear of red. Hastily he snatched up a napkin and pressed it to his nose, head tilting back.

"Is everything all right, dear boy," Albus asked, tone bordering on infuriately calm concern.

"Just a nosebleed – increased blood flow and whatnot for the baby," he griped, words slightly muffled. "But I do think that I will retire for the evening, Headmaster," Severus said, getting to his feet, feeling a touch lightheaded.

He'd had nosebleeds before – after all, his nose was rather large and made for an obvious target when his sometimes-shitty attitude got the better of him when he was younger or in the company of baser acquaintances. Not to mention, several potions had fumes that managed to make the inside of his nostrils feel as though he'd scrubbed the sensitive, thin skin with bleach. However, he was not used to the lightheaded feeling that accompanied that particular nosebleed. The world greyed slightly before resuming full color.

"Of course, Severus. Thank you for having tea with me."

Giving a curt nod, Severus managed to leave the office without bumping into anything, head still tilted slightly. He pinched harder at his nostrils, as though he could stem the blood flow by sheer pressure as he made his way down the stairs. By the time he reached the Dungeons, Severus was able to pull the napkin from his face, the white cloth spotted with bright red.

Sighing, he spoke the password to his rooms and entered.