Here’s the second version, when Sam’s thirteen. It was suggested a while ago that I post this one here, because that way I could attach the appropriate rating and not worry about messing with RPG content rules. I thought it was time I got around to that. You’ll probably notice that much of the beginning sections are identical; that’s because these were never really meant to exist as separate scenes. If one happened, the other wouldn’t. As I was writing it the two different ideas came up on how it should end, so I simply wrote both. Hope you like this one, anyhow.

Severus Snape sat down gracefully across from his daughter, his usual fluidity of movement doing little to mask the profoundly uncomfortable expression on his face. This was something for which he had no experience, no potion to whip up or ingredient list to memorise. Well, there was a related potion, but one he dearly hoped he was not called on to make—or rather, he would make his usual batch for Madam Pomfrey, and never be aware of it if his daughter made any use of the supply.  He rather thought he would make a special request to ensure that he did not know.

Nevertheless, the position he now found himself in seemed to be unavoidable. He and Ros had agreed this was a necessary discussion, she had given him a significant look, and was now mysteriously nowhere to be found. Severus was certainly enough of a Slytherin to read the signs.

He cleared his throat, another thing he rarely found the need to do. “Samantha,” he said firmly, “we need to have a talk.”

“Is this about the turning Uncle Remus’ hair green? Because—”

“No,” he said swiftly. “It has nothing to do with that.”

“Oh. Is it—” Sam paused. If it was about one of her recent pranks, surely he’d tell her that. If it wasn’t, there was no need to reveal any he didn’t know of yet. “What is it about, then?”

Severus swallowed. “Well. Seeing as you are—the age you are, if you haven’t come to notice…other young people in a…different way, you—” he stopped, and cast about in his mind. His throat seemed to tighten at the most inopportune moments… “You often visit the Riddle manor, or live there for stretches of time, of course. So you may be near others closer to your age, and care for those younger than you. Surely you must have noticed that to—for younger children to appear, there is a certain—process that must unfold.”

Light dawned, and Sam smirked a little. “Dad, are you talking about sex?”

Severus’ jaw went slack, for a fraction of a second. “I, er—well—yes,” he admitted. His eyebrows quirked, and he spoke before he could stop himself. “How did you…? Never mind,” he added quickly. “I doubt I want to know.”

“Oh, you can learn all kinds of things at Hogwarts,” said Sam, grinning.

“I said I did not wish to know!” he repeated forcefully.

Sam nodded, subsiding. Then she looked up, honestly curious. “So, if I liked a boy, and we thought it might go somewhere, you wouldn’t mind?”

Severus frowned, but eventually sighed and nodded. “As long as you did your utmost to be certain before making such steps, made sure to take the proper precautions if you did so, and,” he lowered his brows, glowering across the desk, “refrained from ever subjecting me to details

Sam nodded, smiling slightly, and turned to leave. Severus sighed and lowered his head to rest on his hands. If he’d been paying attention, he might have noticed the gleam in her eyes as she stuck her head back in again. “Daddy? What if I liked a girl?”

His head whipped up in shock, but she was gone again. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly several times. His hands clenched and he entertained wild fantasies of vaulting his desk and sprinting after her through the halls of Hogwarts. Then he sighed again, and reached for Floo powder and a headache potion.