Harry Potter The Art of Communication

**A/N: _Hello again. Since I left film school, I have had a bit of time on my hands while I go through the arduous job search. So what better use of my time could there be than writing fan fiction? If you're read my other fic, A Father's Right, this follows the same universe but sees my OC at a much younger age. I'm still working on that longer story but, as chapter fics go, it keeps taking twists and turns that I don't expect. I'll get it up as soon as I can. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy these little glimpses._**

**_Review! I love to hear anything you have to say, even if you hate it._**

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><p><strong>THE ART OF COMMUNICATION<strong>

"She doesn't speak at all, you say? Not even to address you?"

"No. Is that normal?"

Poppy Pomfrey looked at Severus as if he had an absurd growth protruding from his forehead.

"She's nearly four years old, Severus. She should be talking by now."

Severus allowed his gaze to wander through the open door of Madam Pomfrey's office across the hospital wing. Sitting on the floor some thirty feet away, his mute daughter played with a stuffed animal, smoothing out its faux fur and whispering into its ear.

He would have been lying if he said he wasn't a bit concerned that his daughter had some sort of birth defect for it hadn't escaped his notice that his godson, Scorpius—who was a whole year Zoe's junior—chattered constantly. It wasn't always understandable, of course, but it was speech nonetheless.

"Does she make any noises at all?" Poppy asked curiously.

Severus turned back to the mediwitch.

"Yes. She…hums."

"Hums?" The woman looked confused.

"Yes, hums. You're familiar with music?"

"I am quite familiar indeed. What sort of music does she hum? Is it something she makes up or songs she has heard before?"

"Of course they are songs she's heard before," Severus snapped. "What a ridiculous notion that she would make them up. My daughter is hardly a music prodigy."

The mediwitch raised her eyebrows at Severus's short temper, but her eyes danced with amusement.

"Where does she hear these songs?" Poppy inquired.

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Various sources," he stated plainly.

"Various sources? Do you own a Victrola?"

"No."

"Do you take her to concerts, perhaps?"

"No."

"She must hear them over the Wireless, then."

"No. I do not own a Wireless. What are you trying to get at, woman?"

Poppy looked at Severus innocently. "I am merely trying to understand where Zoe could pick up her musical tendencies when it is apparent that she has had very little exposure to music. I do hope you aren't taking her to those Muggle shops that play such vulgar noise…"

Severus growled. "Oh, alright. I… sing to her. Are you happy?"

"You sing to your daughter?" Poppy seemed skeptical.

"There's absolutely nothing wrong with that. It calms her when she is frightened and sometimes helps her to sleep."

"There's no need to get defensive, Severus. I had already surmised as much. I just wanted to hear you say it. There is no doubt in my mind that Zoe benefits greatly from your vocalizations."

Poppy moved out of her office and stood in the doorway, watching Zoe. Severus stood and watched as well.

"I want you to call to her, Severus," Madam Pomfrey instructed. "Do not yell out; simply ask her to come to you in a normal tone of voice."

Severus nodded his understanding. "Zoe. Come here, please."

The little girl looked up from her cuddly at the sound of her name, stood and toddled over to the adults. She instantly latched her arms around Severus's left leg, grinning up at him. Poppy smiled fondly down at the girl as Severus laid a protective hand on her head.

"Well, that most certainly rules out deafness," she assured. "Bring her to a bed and I'll run some diagnostic spells."

Severus reached down, took a hold of his daughter's hand and led her to a bed. Once there, he lifted her on to it and sat down in a wooden chair beside her. The girl looked up at him apprehensively. When Poppy came toward her with her wand drawn, Zoe scrambled off the bed and whined to be let onto her father's lap.

"Zoe, you will not be hurt," he explained as he sat her back on the bed. "I promise."

Zoe still didn't look like she wanted anything to do with Poppy or her diagnostic device. Poppy, seeing the girl's fear, waved her wand and produced another soft cuddly for the girl to hold. Zoe latched onto the plush giraffe as if her life depended on it.

"It will only be a moment, dear," Poppy reassured and then proceeded to move her wand all around Zoe.

Severus watched with his full attention. He recognized the familiar signatures of standard illness diagnostic spells. Every single one of them caused a halo of pale greens to envelop his daughter—she was in perfect health, it seemed. Zoe giggled at the sensation. Eventually, Madam Pomfrey moved on to more invasive spells that would undoubtedly tell her if there was a birth defect or other serious ailment from which Zoe suffered. It took less than a few minutes and then the mediwitch put her wand away.

By the look Poppy was giving him, he had a feeling he wasn't going to like her prognosis.

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><p>Severus couldn't believe what he had heard. The child was perfectly healthy, normal even—or so he had been informed. She had no vocal defects, no auditory problems and no learning disabilities. The girl simply <em>chose<em> not to speak.

What kind of a child chose anything for itself? Weren't they all incapable of making rational decisions, thus the entire purpose of adult guardians who could make decisions for them?

Severus hadn't been around many children as young as Zoe before in his life—pre-adolescence was young enough in his opinion—but there had been a time when he had spent some time with one particular child, Draco Malfoy, at that age and to say he had been chatty would have been an understatement. The boy had damned near talked him to insanity at every visit about the most inane subjects; Draco's own son wasn't any different. Not to mention, after years of trying to tune out the babbling, melodramatic gossip that ran rampant through the halls of Hogwarts, Severus had assumed all "normal" children were annoyingly loquacious little buggers.

Yet here he was with a child of his own and the girl hadn't uttered a word in her nearly four years of life.

On one hand, Severus couldn't help but think he had something to do with it. What if the girl feared him and was worried about speaking in front of him? He remembered times in his youth when adults had made him too anxious to voice his own opinion and in his tenure as a professor, he'd most certainly scared students into silence before, yet this child hadn't done anything to incur his wrath. In fact, he would swear that he'd seen an innocent smirk on her face and a mischievous gleam in her eyes on the few occasions she had seen him truly angry. It was as if she was amused by his reactions, not fearful. Of course, he had yet to direct his displeasure toward the little girl, in which case he was sure to elicit a different reaction from her.

On the other hand of the argument, Severus thought he should perhaps relish in the quietude he was graced with. No doubt in time the girl would eventually become as talkative as other children, in which case he was sure he would seek nothing more than some peace. However, this thought often made him feel uncharacteristically guilty. He knew he shouldn't discourage his daughter from speaking and, if he was truly honest with himself, he was looking forward to hearing Zoe speak for the first time.

Having arrived home through the Floo from their appointment with Madam Pomfrey and short visit with Minerva at Hogwarts, Zoe had relinquished Severus's grasp on her hand, flung off her tiny cloak and happily skipped from the room, completely oblivious to the distress and irritation she was causing her father.

Frowning, Severus picked up the girl's cloak from the floor and hung it on a hook next to the fireplace along with his own cloak. He pulled his pocket watch out to check the time. There was nearly an hour until Ollie would have dinner prepared and he had yet to finish that day's edition of _The_ _Daily Prophet_.

He picked the newspaper up from the seat of his customary green chair where he had placed it that morning, sat down and began reading where he'd left off.

He had barely gotten halfway through a lengthy article on some new Ministry policies pushing through the Wizengamot when he felt a soft pressure against his knees. Folding back the newspaper, he found Zoe leaning against him looking up at him. Her eyes were big and full of curiosity and, as she smiled up at him, Severus couldn't help but feel a fresh wave of annoyance with the child. If she spoke, at least he would know where she was rather than constantly being startled to find her standing right next to him. Sometimes the little spook could be downright maddening. _Perhaps if I attached bells to her shoes…_, Severus thought then quickly erased the notion from his head.

"If there is something you need, I imagine Ollie is in the kitchen preparing dinner," he told the little girl, then raised the newspaper back up, unceremoniously blocking his daughter from view.

Even though he could still feel the warmth of Zoe's little body pressing against his legs, Severus was quite certain he could continue to ignore her. However, just as he glanced past an editorial on the rights of magical creatures, Zoe started to poke her fingers into his knee and he could no longer pretend she wasn't vying for his attention. He brought the paper down once more and secured the most exasperated glare he could muster for her and, in an admittedly syrupy voice, he asked, "Yes, what is it?"

Zoe scrunched up her face at him for a moment as if she smelled something foul, or maybe it was just to show him she wasn't fussed with his sugarcoated hostility. She seemed to contemplate her next move for an instant. Then, with an unmistakable look of resolve upon her features, the little girl crawled up his legs to sit on his lap. Severus merely gawked at her, amazed.

It took Zoe several moments to become comfortable. She seemed to have no qualms about jabbing him in the ribs or flicking him in the face with her dark brown plait as she settled her body in the crook of his left arm, hanging her legs down between his knees. She was perfectly positioned so that her head could rest against his chest and still see the newspaper in front of her. When she had finally stopped fidgeting around, Severus pulled the newspaper back in front of him, looping his arm around Zoe's small form in order to hold both pages.

"May I continue?" he asked, looking down on the dark little head resting on him. She nodded and he rolled his eyes at the notion that he'd just asked a three-year-old for permission to read the newspaper he had paid for.

Luckily, the girl sat relatively still for several minutes and he was able to skim through much of the articles on the page. Zoe seemed intrigued by the moving black and white photographs and a few times, Severus looked down to see her eyes roaming over the page. It was almost as if she was reading it herself.

Severus finished off one section, skipped past the Quidditch articles and scores that always seemed to consume the middle portion of the paper and flipped straight to the people and community section toward the end of the periodical. He had just begun to read an interesting critique on the new apothecary struggling with the competition in Diagon Alley when Zoe reached out a little hand and pointed at a photograph toward the bottom of the page. She pulled back to fully face her father and, with pleading eyes, she indicated that she wanted him to focus on the article she had pointed out. Severus glanced at the picture and immediately frowned. _Of all the bloody things for her to choose…_

"That's Harry Potter," he told her, trying to mask the contempt in his voice.

Zoe raised her eyebrows at him, willing him to continue. She pointed once more at the photograph, this time indicating the woman and two toddlers standing next to The Chosen One.

Severus couldn't help but focus in on Ginny Weasley who was beaming at the camera as she held a tiny baby in her arms. Potter's face was ridiculously smug. He had one arm wrapped lovingly around the waist of his wife and with the other hand, he seemed to be attempting to keep the elder of his sons from poking the smaller, more pensive boy who was glaring daggers at his brother.

Wrapped up in his amusement at Potter's feeble attempt to quell his troublemaking son's antics, Severus hardly noticed that Zoe had been poking him in the shoulder. He looked sternly down upon the toddler.

"You know, if you would ask me what you want, you wouldn't need to prod me for my attention," he said.

Zoe shrugged and turned back to the newspaper, pointing to the article beneath the photograph. Severus rolled his eyes.

"You don't want to know about them," he tried to convince her. After all, Potter didn't need any more ardent followers and Severus would be damned if his daughter spent her life fawning over the Boy-Who-Lived as if he was a god, as was the practice with the rest of the wizarding world.

Zoe folded her arms across her chest and squinted her eyes at him—a move that was surprisingly reminiscent of his own mannerisms. Severus rolled his eyes.

"Oh, all right."

He skimmed the short article. Zoe watched his face, waiting surprisingly patiently for him to respond.

"It says: _Legendary defeater of the Dark Lord, Harry Potter…_" Severus paused. He couldn't help but scoff, "_…and his wife, Holyhead Harpies Chaser Ginevra Weasley-Potter, are pleased to announce the birth of their third child._"

Severus watched as Zoe's eyes lit up with excitement at this news. She didn't even know these people, yet she was still reveling in their happiness as she watched the young couple beam back at her as the two boys waved for the camera. Severus continued.

"_Lily Luna Potter_," he read, "_was born at St. Mungo's Hospital after nearly eighteen hours of labor_," Severus paused again.

_Lily_.

The name brought up so many long-repressed memories for him that he tried promptly to push to the back of his mind. Of course, he should have expected a sentimental fool like Harry Potter to name his daughter after his dead mother, but he couldn't say he wasn't a bit caught off guard either. He obviously couldn't tell in the black and white photo whether the infant had inherited the red locks of her Weasley mother or Potter's ridiculous black, but Severus inwardly hoped it was the former. At least then, she'd better resemble her father's mother rather than her intolerable paternal grandfather who, judging by the looks of it seemed to have the genetic monopoly on the male offspring in that family.

_Merlin,_ _eighteen hours of labor? No doubt she's already inherited her namesake's spitfire personality_. Severus felt the corners of his mouth curl up slightly at the thought.

In the meantime, Zoe had wrinkled her brow, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, she poked the paper with her finger, rustling it and causing Severus to push his thoughts to the side. He frowned at her.

"Patience."

Zoe sulked defiantly back and poked the paper again.

"Zoe," Severus scolded the little girl, raising his eyebrows to indicate he wouldn't tolerate her insolence.

Zoe smirked at him and leaned back against his chest, apparently deciding to wait patiently after all.

"There isn't much left. It just says that, _Lily joins big brothers James and Albus _and, let's see, that _Ginny Potter will remain on the Harpies' reserve list until she feels fit to resume her regular training regimen._"

Zoe nodded her understanding then sat completely still, allowing Severus to continue reading his newspaper, but he wasn't reading anymore.

_Albus?_

Severus hadn't recalled seeing a birth announcement for that particular child. But then again, he rarely paid much attention to birth announcements. The baby boom that followed the end of the war—the one in which Potter and Ginny Weasley had apparently enthusiastically endorsed—made for a large amount of announcements with nearly every edition of the _Prophet_ and Severus had never really cared to know who was and wasn't procreating. The news that some of the most mindless or wicked citizens in the wizarding world were producing children who would no doubt carry on their parents' lack of brains and abundances of prejudice only helped to depress and annoy him.

Nonetheless, it would have been nice to know that Potter had named his second son after Dumbledore. Severus even found that he was surprised Minerva hadn't mentioned the fact to him. _The_ _unfortunate child will have some rather large expectations to live up to_, Severus thought.

Suddenly, Zoe sat straight up, startling him once more; she had apparently spotted something of interest within the paper. Severus followed her gaze to the discarded Quidditch pages on the arm of the chair. She picked up the side and gazed, mesmerized, at an advertisement for a new broomstick model. It showed a team of Quidditch players zooming in and out of the frame beneath large letters that read:

**Jetstream 600**

**New Official Broomstick of the English and Spanish National Teams**

Zoe's eyes lit up as the players whizzed about. She looked up into her father's eyes, a huge smile across her face and pointed down at the ad, jumping jubilantly up and down on his lap, causing him to wince.

"Absolutely not," said Severus firmly, placing a hand on Zoe's thigh to halt the exuberant hopping. "Quidditch is for dunderheads who show no promise in academic or society-servicing careers."

Zoe's shoulders visibly sagged and she pointed to the name of the broomstick. Severus took that to indicate she wasn't as interested in the sport, really. She was more enamored by the broom itself.

"You are much too young for a broomstick."

Zoe shook her head and sat up straighter as if doing so would leave no doubt in her father's mind that she was grown up enough for a broom.

"Yes, you are," he stated plainly. "Children at Hogwarts aren't even allowed broomsticks until their second year and those children are much bigger than you."

Zoe wrinkled her nose in distaste and Severus smirked. Apparently, she couldn't find a chink in his argument. He rather doubted Zoe would drop the subject forever, but he was sure his explanation would suffice for now.

Just as Zoe had settled herself back into the crook of Severus's arm, Ollie entered the room and announced dinner. As the house elf Apparated back to the kitchen, Zoe leapt off her father's lap, blissfully unaware of the sharp pain she had caused in the region of his groin as she scrambled over his legs.

Severus laid the _Prophet_ aside and stood. As annoyed as he had been with his daughter that day, the time they'd spent together since their return from the castle had been pleasantly gratifying.

As he walked toward the kitchen, he started to feel rather annoyed with himself, however. He'd just carried on an entire conversation with a selectively mute three-year-old and he'd thoroughly enjoyed every second of it.


End file.
