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the_flicTitle: Master Green Eyes (Part Four)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fbowden
Betas:leela_cat and brknhalo241
Characters: Harry/Snape
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: off screen mpreg, angst, romance.
Word Count: 33,000 total. This chapter 5,500.
Summary: 'The small face was haunting, the jaw length black hair hanging limply to frame it. With a shock, Harry realised exactly who the child bore a striking resemblance to.'
Author's notes: This has been a WIP for nearly a year. The original idea was given to me byjennybliss, and it snowballed from there. It's been a labour of love, this fic, and I sincerely hope all the Snarry fen on my flist enjoy it. Also, don't let the mpreg warning put you off - it's non graphic and a past occurrence.
At some point during the night, Harry shivered and moved closer to the warmth of another body. The other body grunted, shifted away, moved back, then wrapped him up in arms and a fleecy blanket. Harry sighed contentedly and dozed off again.
The first bright rays of sunlight pricked at his reluctant eyelids, teasing him awake. The warm presence had gone, and only the blanket wound tightly around him afforded any sort of heat, or modesty.
Harry kept his eyes shut and listened to the kettle whistling, a toaster popping, and various other sounds of domesticity that could be heard from the kitchen. Heavy footsteps moved around. A toilet flushed and Harry’s bladder flinched at the reminder. He swung his legs round to sit upright. Urgh. The dark trail of hair below his navel was matted and stuck with God only knew what. Then again, Harry knew. It was his own come. There was no arm pinning him down now, nothing to stop him getting up and using the bathroom.
But what if Snape found him wandering around his house? He wasn’t even sure where the bathroom was. A glance around the bedroom confirmed there wasn’t an en-suite. Not that he’d expected one. He’d have to go past the kitchen. There must be a toilet upstairs. Who in their right mind had a downstairs bedroom? Snape did. Harry flexed his legs. Still functioning, thank Merlin. Shit, what was the time? Surely Snape wouldn’t have let him sleep in and be late for class? Well of course he would. How satisfyingly humiliating if Harry disgraced himself by staying out all night like some cheap tart, stumbling home after a night of sordid – what? Sex? Fucking? Was there even an adequate enough word for this? Hateful buggery, Harry thought.
Except, he didn’t really hate Snape. Didn’t like him, for sure, but couldn’t hate him. Not like he used to, before the war and his allegiance was revealed. Snape hated him though. And even if he didn’t, Harry wasn’t gay! He defied any man to have a hand wrapped round his cock and not get off. Could have been anyone’s hand. Urgh. Maybe not anyone. This was insane. Perhaps Snape had been right, he should have asked for counselling after the war. Oh shit. Footsteps coming closer.
Harry quickly lay down again and closed his eyes. His breathing hitched as the footfall ceased somewhere over by the doorway. He attempted an impression of a stone, silently cursing the determination of his eyelashes to flutter open and sneak a look.
A step, then another. Harry peeked through his eyelashes as Snape approached his supposedly slumbering form, reached out a hand, stopped, retracted it, then leant against the wall.
Insane! Insane! Insane! Harry chanted in his head. It would, he thought, make a very nice new mantra. Apt, too. Why the bloody hell was Snape less than two feet from him, doing nothing, judging by the silence, except staring? Perhaps he wasn’t staring. Perhaps there was some damp patch on the ceiling that needed attending to. Harry gave it another minute and then impulsively cracked an eye open.
Oh. Snape was staring at him.
“Er, morning?” Harry offered.
“Barely.” Snape flushed slightly and shifted his weight onto the other leg, “It is seven o’clock. There is coffee and toast in the kitchen, second on the right, down the hall. The bathroom is at the top of the stairs to the left. I have work to attend. I trust you remember where the front door is?”
“Coffee and toast? Better than roses that is.”
Harry could’ve sworn he saw the briefest glimpse of a lip curl.
“From you, anyway,” he added, gratified when the lip curl became a shadowy smirk.
“Hogwarts has house-elves if you prefer something more to your liking. This is not a hotel, Potter.”
Harry snorted. “Well you wouldn’t get much of a tip if it was. Service is appalling.”
Snape’s eyes narrowed briefly. “I heard no complaints last night.”
With that, he turned and stalked from the room, leaving Harry with his jaw gaping.
“That’s because you were asleep!” Harry shouted, far too late.
***
Harry Apparated back to school and hurried up the path, cursing himself for sitting in Snape’s kitchen until it was almost eight-thirty. He hadn’t stayed because he really wanted to, or that it took that long to eat toast. Not really. It was good manners to wait and see if his host, Snape, was going to join him. Well he hadn’t, and Harry wasn’t sure where in the house the man had disappeared off to, or whether he should risk searching for him. Eventually he’d decided against it and departed, not leaving himself nearly enough time to shower, change and get up to the Defence classroom before his absence was remarked.
No doubt McGonagall and Hagrid would have noticed his empty seat at breakfast. He hoped it would be easy enough to explain away if they questioned him. If? Harry snorted. Of course they’d ask. He'd just tell them he’d overslept. No need to go creating elaborate stories that he had no hope of remembering. Or Merlin forbid, tell them the truth. Oh, yeah, sorry I missed breakfast. I was recovering from a night's hard shagging with Severus Snape. Can you pass the butter, Minerva?
Harry slipped through the huge double doors and immediately got caught up in the throng of children streaming out of the Great Hall. He stopped to let a crowd of Ravenclaws pass, and was about to resume his pace when Aurelius emerged, with a group of Gryffindors a few steps behind.
“Hey Princess!”
“Shut up, Marcus, don’t talk to that snake!”
“Where you going, Snaillius? Off to see your slimy Slytherin mates?”
“Don’t be stupid, they don’t like him either!”
“Can’t even play for our team now, can you? Stupid little prat!”
“Yeah, where’s your broom, Snaillius? Not so fast now, are you?”
Harry watched in horror as Aurelius sped up, small hands thrust deeply in his pockets; his wide, innocent and frankly terrified eyes trained on the floor. He flew up the staircase, towards the Gryffindor tower, as the jeering students followed, their taunts and catcalls chasing behind him.
Harry leant back against the door in shock. Everything had happened so quickly he hadn’t had time to intervene. He’d never been aware of bullying within Gryffindor before; inter-house rivalry was as old as the four founders, but generally students looked out for their own. He’d had his own run-ins with Seamus and Dean, even Ron a few times, but he’d never been ganged up on like that. No one had.
In his mind's eye, Harry could see Snape’s Pensieve memories all over again. Grainy images of his own father, continually dogging Snape’s every move, teasing him with verbal abuse and, when that failed, humiliating him in the worst possible way, using one of his own spells against him. Harry hadn’t enjoyed viewing those memories, but back then he’d always felt Snape probably deserved what he’d got. Now he wasn’t so sure, and he was certain that Aurelius didn’t deserve such treatment.
Harry gathered himself together and went to find the boy.
***
He wasn't difficult to find. Aurelius was sitting on his bed in the dormitory, red velvet drapes shielding him from view. Harry only knew he was there by his quiet sniffles, and he could only hear them after he’d surreptitiously removed the Silencing charms. He should have alerted the Head of House, but what was the point if the man was too blind to recognise bullying? Besides, Harry felt strangely responsible for Aurelius; the boy trusted him.
Harry had already cleared the entire tower out by ordering them all to make their way to classes early, levelling his most severe glare at the three boys responsible for Aurelius’ misery. He’d deal with them later, but right now he had more important things to do.
Harry carefully drew back the curtain, his heart sinking to discover the boy lying on his side, knees drawn up into his chest as he rocked himself with almost silent tears.
“Aurelius,” Harry’s voice was gentle, but the child startled nonetheless, frightened green eyes peering over his knees. Harry wanted to reach out and stroke his hair, to promise him he would not have to suffer like Snape had; that history would not repeat itself, because he, Harry, would make sure of it. His own father had started this, and he would see it finished.
Instead, he asked, “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
Aurelius blinked and two more fat tears rolled down his face. He shook his head and buried it in the pillow.
“Whatever you say, whatever’s happened, I promise I won’t let it happen again. I’ll-“
What? What could he do? He couldn’t watch the boy twenty four hours a day. He couldn’t expel pupils simply for a bit of name calling. Then another thought occurred to him, one that sent waves of cold dread down his spine.
“Aurelius – your arm. You didn’t fall out of bed, did you? What happened?”
The child clutched the pillow tighter to his face, so tight Harry wasn’t sure how he could breathe properly. He edged closer and ruffled his hair. Glancing around, there was no sign of the brand new broom, either.
“Where’s the broom your father sent you?”
More and more tears splashed the pillow, soaking into the cotton. Harry had to wonder about the whole bizarre homework episode too.
“Your essay, you said you’d done it, what happened to it?”
Aurelius suddenly let go of the pillow and threw himself against Harry’s chest, his tiny frame shaking as Harry wrapped him in strong arms and let him cry until the sobs became hyper. As ridiculously inappropriate as Harry knew it to be, he couldn’t help running his fingers through the long, black hair. It felt just like Snape’s, except softer and not greasy, and Harry held him tighter and stroked his back. Eventually his breathing returned to near normal, and it was Aurelius, not Harry, who made the move to break away.
“I – I’m s-s-sorry, sir,” he sniffed, wiping a sleeve across his puffy, red eyes.
“Stop. You have nothing to be sorry for, but you have to tell me what’s going on, or I can’t help you.”
Harry produced a handkerchief and passed it to him. Aurelius blew his nose loudly.
“My – my essay, sir, I’d d-d-done it! And they –” Another sudden hiccupping sob cut him off.
“Who are they? Did they take it? Like the broom? Is that why you haven’t been coming to practice? I thought you didn’t want to play anymore.”
“No! I – I couldn’t c-c-come, I wanted to and-“
A dark fury began to fill Harry, he had no idea why he should care so much, but he did. “And your arm? What happened?”
Aurelius flinched, like the memory in itself was physically painful. “I had some sweets. I shared them, but t-t-they wanted all of them and I said n-n-no. They kept saying I was a s-s-snake, that I wasn’t a real Gryffindor, that I didn’t belong anywhere. I tried to g-g-get away sir, I did, I shouted for help but no-one c-c-came, and then my arm, it hurt so much and-”
Harry felt tears prickling the back of his own green eyes. His eyes that were almost identical to the ones that were staring back at him with complete trust and terrified fear. There was a rush of protective feelings the like of which Harry had never experienced before. Leaning forward, he scooped the small boy into his arms and held him.
“It’s okay,” he soothed, “It’s going to be okay, I swear to Merlin you won’t have to worry again.”
Aurelius clung tighter to Harry’s robes.
“You can have my broom back, and you’ll play in the match Saturday. Consider all detention cancelled.”
He’d punished a boy who had done no wrong and the guilt was overwhelming. No wonder Aurelius had been so withdrawn in class. Harry hadn’t found out what had happened to the new broom, but it didn’t take a genius to work out that one way or another, it was unlikely to be in one piece.
“My father,” Aurelius sniffed, “what shall I tell him about the broom?”
“I’ll speak to him. He won’t be angry, not with you, anyway. Come on now, we’re both going to be late to class.”
Reluctantly, Aurelius extricated himself.
“You still haven’t given me names, Aurelius. I can’t help if you don’t tell me who did this.” Harry already knew, he’d seen them this morning, but he had to hear it from Aurelius.
With huge effort, and a fresh batch of petrified tears, the boy told him.
“Yardsley? But he’s on your team! And Barton – you sit with him in Defence sometimes.”
“Only when you make him sit with me, sir, and Yardsley wants to be Seeker. I don’t know why Roberts hates me, I thought – I thought we were friends. Until he-“
Aurelius didn’t need to say more; he was clutching his arm again and looking pained.
Harry placed a hand on the small shoulder, “We can sort this out, you’ll see. Let’s go, I’ll walk you to class.”
***
“For Christ’s sake,” Harry muttered under his breath, “Minerva, I don’t want tea. I want to talk about Aurelius Prince. He is being systematically bullied. What are we going to do about it?”
Harry assumed she was giving him one of her stern glares, but from his position by the window, looking out across the Quidditch pitch, he couldn’t see it. Nor did he care particularly.
“I understand you have concerns, Professor, but we only have the boy’s word! I cannot be seen to punish students without some evidence of these alleged incidents.”
“Alleged incidents? He told me he’d completed work for class then he didn’t have it when he turned up.”
McGonagall raised an eyebrow, “If it's the first time you’ve heard that excuse, Potter...”
“His broom, a brand new broom, a gift from his father is missing. Went missing, in fact, the same day he received it. The same day his essay mysteriously disappeared. Oh yeah, and let’s not forget the broken arm he suffered a few weeks ago, apparently when he fell out of bed.”
Harry took a deep breath and awaited the sharp reply undoubtedly coming his way. He wasn’t disappointed.
“I will not be spoken to in that tone, Potter. And I'll thank you to remember that Gryffindor has a head of house, to whom I shall pass on your concerns."
“Are you saying this is none of my business?”
“No of course not, and since you witnessed the trouble in the Entrance Hall you have my full permission to speak to the children involved regarding that, but as I have already made plainly clear, without proof or admission of further incidents, I will not consider suspension.”
“Then use his memories! Ask Aurelius to put them in the Pensieve.”
“That is totally unprecedented. We do not take memories from students under any circumstances.”
“Then take my word for it, I saw-“
“What you observed, was no more than verbal banter. We do not expel students for that. Deduct points, yes, give detention, yes, suspend them? Out of the question.”
“Fine. I’ll just have to pay closer attention. I trust you’ll believe me if I witness physical violence with my own eyes?”
McGonagall looked at him coldly, “As I always have, Mr Potter.”
***
Grabbing a towel, Harry wrapped it around his waist and returned to the sofa. The unopened letter with the handwriting of many a failed Potions’ essay lay on the table in front of him. Its delivery hadn’t been much of a surprise; now Snape knew Harry was aware of his relationship with Aurelius he was probably going to be getting a lot more involved; what did surprise Harry, was the interest his cock took upon recognising the penmanship. It had taken him a long, hot soak and a good wank to build up the necessary resilience to open it. Which was ridiculous, because this was surely just another bollocking from Snape. Breaking the red wax seal, Harry reclined into the cushions and unfolded the parchment.
Potter,
It has come to my attention that you have been overtly lenient with my son. I wish to discuss this matter with you in person. I will expect you tonight, at eight. Do not be late.
SP
Bloody cheek! Harry smirked. Just expecting him to be free like that. As if he didn’t have a hugely varied social life. Which, of course he didn’t, but that was hardly the point!
Harry dressed quickly and made his way to dinner, determinedly ignoring the butterflies in his stomach in favour of gritting his teeth and scowling at the trio of Gryffindors Aurelius had confided were responsible for his misery.
All through the meal, Harry watched them. It wasn’t just Aurelius who was the butt of their jokes; plenty of minor hexes were discreetly sent in all directions, but most sickeningly, always aimed at the smaller children. Yardsley was a third year, Barton and Roberts second years. It was unthinkable that they could have got away with beating up a first year and no senior child had stepped in to stop them. Perhaps they were clever; perhaps they only did this when there was no chance of getting caught. Cowards too, then.
When a nasty stinging curse sent underneath the table hit Aurelius in the leg, causing him to drop his fork and tears to spring to his eyes, Harry scraped his chair back so quickly it tipped over. Ignoring Minerva’s scowls, he stalked down the middle of the hall and glared, “Up, follow me. Now.”
Not so confident now, are you? Harry thought with small measure of satisfaction as they walked ahead of him, feet dragging, out into the hallway, exchanging worried glances. Directing them into a classroom that conveniently appeared, Harry let rip.
“You three are a disgrace to Gryffindor. Never have I encountered such nasty, malicious behaviour. Do you think you’re clever? Picking on children smaller than you? Well, DO YOU? Why don’t you have a go at me, if you’re so brave? Go on, Professor Potter is giving you a free shot. Let’s see what you can do with it. No? Kids like you make me sick. Do you have any idea how it feels to be bullied? Well let me make something very clear. If I see you so much as looking at Prince -- or any of the younger children -- again, I will hex you myself. You’ll be expelled quicker than you can say Lumos. I want you to apologise, return his broom, and his schoolwork. I’m taking fifty points, you all have a weeks’ detention and you, Yardsley, are off the team until I can be sure you’re a worthwhile person to have on it. Now get out.”
Harry was gratified to see the two younger boys looked close to tears. Yardsley, however, had a nasty half smirk on him that reminded Harry far too much of Malfoy.
“Make that two week’s worth of detention, Yardsley, and remember what I said. One whiff of trouble and you’re off the team and out of the school.”
As soon as the door quietly closed behind the last student, Harry let out a long breath and a muttered ‘shit’; Minerva would kill him if she found out half of what he’d said.
***
“You are late. I specifically told you not to be.”
“I had school stuff to sort out. I can’t just drop everything and-”
“Yes, yes, I believe we have had this discussion before. Is your mind really so miniscule that you can only relay snippets of old conversations?”
Harry was grateful for the rush of warm air that greeted him inside the cottage, though hopefully not so warm that he would faint again. Merlin, he hoped Snape wasn’t going to mention that.
“So what do you er-want?” Harry asked somewhat nervously as he followed Snape into the living room. It was a worrying thought that the house was starting to feel familiar.
“I wish to know why you reinstated my son to the Quidditch team and cancelled his detention. I am not sympathetic towards teachers who indulge in favouritism.”
“What?” Harry laughed incredulously, “Yesterday I was picking on him, and today he’s teacher’s pet?”
Snape turned midway through pouring whisky and raised an eyebrow, “Then how would you describe this rather sudden change of heart?”
Emboldened by what appeared to be an equal footing between them, Harry told him, “It has nothing to do with me and you. I mean, whatever happened last night and er, you know, what that was all about, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Articulate, aren’t you Potter?”
Harry rolled his eyes for his own benefit and took the glass Snape offered him, inexplicably nervous when the older man sat beside him on the sofa instead of taking the armchair he usually occupied.
“I found out that what I punished him for wasn’t actually his fault. It was only fair to set things right.”
“Oh? And how exactly did you arrive at the conclusion you had erred?”
Shit, was that a hand brushing his thigh? No, it couldn’t be. Harry cleared his throat and debated telling Snape the truth. Strictly speaking, this was a school matter and should be discussed as such, at an appropriate time. And yet, if he didn’t fill Snape in, it was bound to come back and kick him up the arse at some point.
“The mistake wasn’t mine. I mean, it was but there were...extenuating circumstances.”
“Cut the crap, Potter. What is going on with my son?”
Harry sighed and took a long slug of the whisky.
“There are some kids, they make fun of him. At first I thought it was just harmless teasing, but then he turned up to class without his homework, and he said he’d done it, so I assumed he was being awkward. That’s why I punished him in the first place. I had no idea – and then this morning,” Harry blushed and looked away, “when I got back, I caught them at it, nasty little jibes and comments. I followed him upstairs and he told me everything; his arm, the broom you sent him - it was stolen - , it was all down to these kids.”
Snape had never looked so malevolent or incensed, Harry thought, and that was saying something. “They broke his arm?”
“That’s-yeah, what he said.”
Harry jumped as Snape's whisky glass shattered against the brickwork and the fire flared higher from the splashes of alcohol. Snape was up on his feet and pacing before Harry could take another breath.
“And what reprimand have these children suffered?”
“Uh, nothing – exactly. I mean, they’ve been given detention and I took-“
“DETENTION?” Snape roared, a fine mist of spittle spraying Harry from behind, “They break my son’s arm and you assign detention?”
Harry slammed his own glass down rather forcefully, “Hey! I wanted them expelled! Minerva wouldn’t have it, said there was no evidence, refused to use the Pensieve to prove Aurelius right. I did the best I could! If she’d heard a fraction of what I threatened them...”
Snape looked up sharply, eyeing Harry as though he’d suddenly appeared stark bollock naked in his living room. “You threatened them?”
“Yeah. Christ, you’re not going to tell Minerva are you? He’s your bloody son; I was just trying to scare them off him.”
“And what would encourage you to do that, Potter?”
“Why would I-why wouldn’t I? He’s one of my students!”
“Do you always make threats on behalf of your students?”
“No but this is-it's nasty! And it’s happening in my old house.”
Snape grabbed another glass and filled it near to the brim. In less than five seconds it was empty again.
“Care to hear what I believe? You are using my son to redeem yourself. Oh look, Harry Potter is being nice to Severus Snape’s son. Why? Because he feels guilty. Because he does not want to be compared to his greasy ex Potions Master. Look at me, I’m Harry bloody Potter and I’m better than you!”
Harry scowled, “No one knows he’s your bloody son! And why should I feel guilty? I’m not acting like anything, this is me! I care about his wellbeing; I don’t want to see him lonely and friendless or so miserable that he spends all his time in the library. He’s a nice kid, and I would have thought you’d be a bit more concerned about him!”
Snape moved surprisingly fast for someone who’d just downed about ten fingers’ of scotch. Within seconds he was dragging Harry to his feet, hands gripping his shirt collar with such force that it was no surprise at all to hear the thin cotton rip along the shoulder seam.
“How dare you suggest I am not alarmed by this! I am only too aware of how sickening it is to be bullied. Your father-“
“Is not the reason I'm protecting him! Of course I’m ashamed of how my dad treated you at school, did you think I wasn’t? Did you think I had a good laugh over your memories? Well I didn’t! It made me sick, but that’s not why Aurelius is important, this isn’t my attempt at generational salvation! And if I have unconsciously treated him with the respect he deserves as a two fingers at you, then it is exactly that, unconscious! I don’t have it in me to hate an eleven year old!”
Snape shoved Harry away in disgust, “Back to that are we? Poor hard done by Harry Potter, unjustly victimised by the nasty-“
“You know you did! Don’t lie about it! You hated me because I looked like my dad. You never gave me a chance!”
Snape waved a weary hand on his way back to the bureau, “Yes, yes, believe what you will. Never mind the seven years I expended saving your worthless life, you ungrateful brat.”
“I’m ungrateful?! I testified on your behalf, cleared your name and kept you out of Azkaban, and what thanks did I get? You walked out of the Ministry without so much as a goodbye!”
“Oh I’m sorry, Potter! I had not realised I was beholden to you! Forgive me for believing I might finally be allowed to live my life away from the constant threat of death!”
Harry slugged his drink back and got to his feet, “So I’m good enough for a quick fuck but not worth extending any kind of common courtesy, like letting us know you were still alive, or where you’d gone!”
“What purpose would it have served? Were you informed of other Order members' whereabouts? Have you kept in touch with them? I have no idea why you would even have spared me a second thought!”
“I don’t know why either! I just did, all right? I wondered for years. Even more so as time went on. I’d never have known either, would I? You would never have revealed yourself to me if I hadn’t worked it out.”
Snape conceded the point with a stiff nod, “It is nothing personal, Potter. I simply bore no desire to exist under the microscope of public scrutiny. Nor for my son to be recognised and targeted because of my past transgressions.”
Harry, who had made it as far as the door, with every intention of leaving, faltered. “What past transgressions? You’re a bloody hero; you were given an Order of Merlin!”
“I was a Death Eater turned spy. I am responsible for the demise of people’s loved ones. For God's sake, I am accountable for your parents’ murder. How can you stand there with your charitable absolution?”
“Because you didn’t murder them!” Harry shouted, “Voldemort did!”
“Be that as it may, there are countless who deem me worthy of punishment. You ought to be one of them. How you can even stand to look at me, after I have constantly wronged you-“
Snape’s hand gripped the edge of the bookcase as his knees weakened. Harry rushed over to steady his arm but Snape shrank back from the touch.
“I repeatedly tormented you-“
“You didn’t, I understand, you had to behave that way-Voldemort-“
Harry was really starting to worry; no matter how much tolerance Snape might have for the hard stuff, downing a full glass like that, even without knowing how much the man had drunk beforehand, could not be good. His speech was slow and the usually harsh voice sounded broken.
“Have no idea, do you?”
“For God’s sake, just sit down will you?” Harry tried to take his arm again but Snape staggered back in an effort to get away, and slumped against the wall, then began to slide down it.
Harry was shocked when Snape buried his head in his hands, his body shaking with the effort to contain some obvious heavy duty emotion.
“Look, it’s really not that bad, Christ, I had no idea. Is that why you stayed away? I don’t hate you, really I don’t! I mean, how could I? The last few days, well, it was good, and, I enjoyed it and my parents – like I said, I don’t blame you for their deaths and you were pretty much horrible to everyone at school, so it’s not like-“
“SHUT UP!” Snape screamed, “THIS IS NOT ABOUT YOUR FUCKING PARENTS!”
Harry immediately felt the familiar spark of anger, but that was what Snape wanted, wasn’t it? To drive him away with his self-pity and refusal to believe that Harry had forgiven him? Admittedly, that was new, he’d thought the bastard didn’t care one way or the other, but evidently he did, and it was something that needed addressing before they carried on with whatever was developing between them.
“Well no matter what it’s about, I forgive you, okay? So can we just get over this now?”
The laugh that rang in Harry’s ears was highly unnerving. He’d never heard Snape laugh, except it wasn’t a normal, happy laugh. It was sinister, mocking, disgusted. It was everything Harry had come to expect from the man.
“Precisely how dim-witted are you, Potter? You actually have no clue? Tell me, how many unusually powerful wizards are there in this country? How many of them were Gryffindors? And how many of those few have green FUCKING EYES?”
Harry just stared at the crumpled form, shrouded in black; Snape wasn’t making any sense.
“My son is also your son! Yet another thing I have stolen from you! Another unforgiveable crime my lack of conscience allowed me to commit! Did you not notice his eyes? Do you not see yourself in him every single day? Because I damn well do! From the moment he was born! Eyes as green as emeralds, skin as soft as silk, his hair...all you, Potter! Eleven years of staring at your face, hoping never to cross paths with you again for fear that you would find out! Your urge to protect him is not borne from mere concern as his teacher; it is the Parental Bond that is drawing you to him!”
Harry couldn’t have fallen to his knees faster if someone had sledge-hammered the backs of them. The breath in his lungs seemed to rush from his body and blood thundered through his ears.
“What-what are you talking about? He’s not my son – there are – the spell, I know what you need and we’ve never – it’s not possible.”
Sounding eerily calm, Snape said, “I took what I needed from you, Potter. The first and last Ministry celebration I ever deigned to attend. The men’s washrooms. You and I-“
“YOU SICK BASTARD, WHY ARE YOU LYING ABOUT THIS? I WOULD NEVER HAVE TOUCHED YOU. I HATED YOU!”
“You were paralytic, Potter. Umbridge herself could have wanked you off that night, and you would never have known who was holding your cock. So sweet, your moans, so grateful. Something I have cherished for a long time. How ironic that you should willingly end up in my bed after all this time.”
“That’s – you’re lying – I remember, you weren’t even there! You never went to any fucking Ministry parties BECAUSE I SPENT ALL MY TIME LOOKING FOR YOU!”
“One. I attended one. By the time I arrived you were already three sheets to the wind. If you don’t believe me, ask Poppy to run a paternity test. So, Potter, where’s your sainted forgiveness now?”
Snape clawed at the wall until he was upright. Harry couldn’t move; he was paralysed on hands and knees, staring at the cream carpet, convinced he was going to be sick.
“Why? Why would you do that?” he whispered, barely able to raise his head enough to see Snape sneering at him.
“Because I could. Because I wanted a life, and someone to share it with. Because I wanted a piece of you, Potter. I wanted you, and how likely was it that you would want me in return? Every day, every single day I have you, in him. And I love him more than you could ever imagine. I regret my deception of you, I regret my actions more than you can imagine, but I will never regret his existence.”
“Oh God,” Harry moaned, lowering his head to rest it on his forearm, “this isn’t happening. I don’t know why you’re saying this but it can’t be true.”
Snape moved towards him, gait uneven, affected as it was by such a swift injection of alcohol. Kneeling down next to Harry, he reached out a shaky hand and awkwardly stroked his hair.
“You used me,” Harry said dully, “You...you raped me.”
Soothing fingers turned into claws, clenching painfully as Snape twisted Harry’s head back, ignoring the tears that pooled in the corners of his eyes. Aurelius' eyes, Harry couldn't help thinking. Snape loosened his grip a little but did not let go.
“I did no such thing. You might not possess a memory of the event but I do. Perhaps you should view it, if only to extinguish that ridiculous notion.”
Harry wrenched out of Snape’s clutch and toppled backwards to sprawl on the carpet, forcing his legs to work long enough to get to his feet. Snape remained kneeling, still staring at his empty hand. Harry wanted to kick him in the head.
“You’re disgusting. How could you do that? WHAT FUCKING RIGHT DID YOU HAVE TO DO THAT TO ME? I never wanted children! I didn’t want them with Ginny, and I sure as fucking hell wouldn't have wanted any with you!”
Harry’s breathing was ragged and approaching hyperventilation but he couldn’t sit down, couldn’t stand still, couldn’t think about anything other than Aurelius being his.
Snape didn’t move, didn’t speak. Kept staring at the slight indent in the carpet where Harry’s knees had been.
“I was with Ginny, I wouldn’t have cheated on her with you, it...you...why tell me? Why now? You could have told me any time in the last ELEVEN FUCKING YEARS! It’s not like I was hard to find! If you were so worried about me finding out, why fucking TELL ME NOW?”
Harry didn’t expect an answer. He barely paused. His brain was hardwired to his mouth and all the disjointed, random things that occurred to him, tripped off his tongue.
“Four months. You needed four months to prepare for pregnancy. When did you do it? Which party? There were loads but they were all straight after the war, they’d filtered out by September. You planned it, didn’t you? Fucking hell, you manipulative bastard! This wasn’t some one night stand that got you pregnant, this was premeditated. You USED ME!”
Harry barely managed to restrain himself from taking a shot at Snape’s ribs as he stalked to the bookcase and grabbed the whisky bottle, throwing the cap at the wall and downing the contents so quickly it dribbled around the rim and soaked into his shirt.
“What am I supposed to do now? Carry on working like I don’t know? What did you think would happen if I found out? Did you even stop to consider I might challenge your custody?”
Snape snapped his head back and glared, “I will kill you before you set foot in the Ministry to file those papers.”
“Oh yeah, fucking kill me! Why not! You’ve taken everything else from me!”
“I cannot lose him. He is all I have-” Snape seized the back of the sofa and hauled himself up.
“What about me? What do I have?” Harry screamed, throwing his arms open and sloshing more liquid across the once-pristine carpet.
“You could have both of us. I didn't protect your life merely out of some misguided loyalty to your mother or Albus. I didn't simply pick you because of your magic. I certainly didn't pick you because of your status. Interactions were always...volatile...between us, of that I am well aware, and I certainly held no hope that you might be as equally attracted to me, no idea you might ever have given me a second thought until you came here with your Gryffindor nosiness. You are incapable of not meddling. I should never have let him attend Hogwarts. I considered sending him to Durmstrang, knowing as I did that you taught at Hogwarts-it was not an easy decision. To be honest, the prospect of you discovering the truth was both repellent and attractive. But Aurelius insisted on Hogwarts. Perhaps he had fantastical notions of discovering some trophy with his father’s name on it.”
“What?” Harry stared incredulously, then began to laugh, “Play happy families? Two random fucks and a paternity test later, and you think we should be a couple? I DON’T LIKE YOU! Right now, I fucking loathe you, and no amount of sticking your cock up my arse is going to change that! And what were you planning on telling OUR son? ‘Oh by the way, Aurelius, I forgot to mention you have another father, who just happens to be Harry Potter, someone who is as socially inept as I am, which leads me to another fact I also neglected to mention; I’m a War Hero and an ex Death Eater! But that’s all in the past now, and we’re going to be one big happy family!”
Harry clung to the whisky bottle as though it were the only thing anchoring his sanity. Snape was staring at him again; he could feel it, those evil bastard eyes, as black as hell, boring into him. The room tilted slightly and rage steadily worked its way through his body, affecting every part of him until his violent shivers were uncontrollable. Still Snape said nothing, leant against the back of the sofa, with his cruel and spiteful sneer, mocking him, ruining his life.
Harry turned and hurled the bottle at Snape with an outraged bellow, Apparating away before either a thunk or a smash could confirm where it had landed.
Part Five
***
Author:
fbowdenBetas:
leela_cat and brknhalo241Characters: Harry/Snape
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: off screen mpreg, angst, romance.
Word Count: 33,000 total. This chapter 5,500.
Summary: 'The small face was haunting, the jaw length black hair hanging limply to frame it. With a shock, Harry realised exactly who the child bore a striking resemblance to.'
Author's notes: This has been a WIP for nearly a year. The original idea was given to me by
jennybliss, and it snowballed from there. It's been a labour of love, this fic, and I sincerely hope all the Snarry fen on my flist enjoy it. Also, don't let the mpreg warning put you off - it's non graphic and a past occurrence.At some point during the night, Harry shivered and moved closer to the warmth of another body. The other body grunted, shifted away, moved back, then wrapped him up in arms and a fleecy blanket. Harry sighed contentedly and dozed off again.
The first bright rays of sunlight pricked at his reluctant eyelids, teasing him awake. The warm presence had gone, and only the blanket wound tightly around him afforded any sort of heat, or modesty.
Harry kept his eyes shut and listened to the kettle whistling, a toaster popping, and various other sounds of domesticity that could be heard from the kitchen. Heavy footsteps moved around. A toilet flushed and Harry’s bladder flinched at the reminder. He swung his legs round to sit upright. Urgh. The dark trail of hair below his navel was matted and stuck with God only knew what. Then again, Harry knew. It was his own come. There was no arm pinning him down now, nothing to stop him getting up and using the bathroom.
But what if Snape found him wandering around his house? He wasn’t even sure where the bathroom was. A glance around the bedroom confirmed there wasn’t an en-suite. Not that he’d expected one. He’d have to go past the kitchen. There must be a toilet upstairs. Who in their right mind had a downstairs bedroom? Snape did. Harry flexed his legs. Still functioning, thank Merlin. Shit, what was the time? Surely Snape wouldn’t have let him sleep in and be late for class? Well of course he would. How satisfyingly humiliating if Harry disgraced himself by staying out all night like some cheap tart, stumbling home after a night of sordid – what? Sex? Fucking? Was there even an adequate enough word for this? Hateful buggery, Harry thought.
Except, he didn’t really hate Snape. Didn’t like him, for sure, but couldn’t hate him. Not like he used to, before the war and his allegiance was revealed. Snape hated him though. And even if he didn’t, Harry wasn’t gay! He defied any man to have a hand wrapped round his cock and not get off. Could have been anyone’s hand. Urgh. Maybe not anyone. This was insane. Perhaps Snape had been right, he should have asked for counselling after the war. Oh shit. Footsteps coming closer.
Harry quickly lay down again and closed his eyes. His breathing hitched as the footfall ceased somewhere over by the doorway. He attempted an impression of a stone, silently cursing the determination of his eyelashes to flutter open and sneak a look.
A step, then another. Harry peeked through his eyelashes as Snape approached his supposedly slumbering form, reached out a hand, stopped, retracted it, then leant against the wall.
Insane! Insane! Insane! Harry chanted in his head. It would, he thought, make a very nice new mantra. Apt, too. Why the bloody hell was Snape less than two feet from him, doing nothing, judging by the silence, except staring? Perhaps he wasn’t staring. Perhaps there was some damp patch on the ceiling that needed attending to. Harry gave it another minute and then impulsively cracked an eye open.
Oh. Snape was staring at him.
“Er, morning?” Harry offered.
“Barely.” Snape flushed slightly and shifted his weight onto the other leg, “It is seven o’clock. There is coffee and toast in the kitchen, second on the right, down the hall. The bathroom is at the top of the stairs to the left. I have work to attend. I trust you remember where the front door is?”
“Coffee and toast? Better than roses that is.”
Harry could’ve sworn he saw the briefest glimpse of a lip curl.
“From you, anyway,” he added, gratified when the lip curl became a shadowy smirk.
“Hogwarts has house-elves if you prefer something more to your liking. This is not a hotel, Potter.”
Harry snorted. “Well you wouldn’t get much of a tip if it was. Service is appalling.”
Snape’s eyes narrowed briefly. “I heard no complaints last night.”
With that, he turned and stalked from the room, leaving Harry with his jaw gaping.
“That’s because you were asleep!” Harry shouted, far too late.
***
Harry Apparated back to school and hurried up the path, cursing himself for sitting in Snape’s kitchen until it was almost eight-thirty. He hadn’t stayed because he really wanted to, or that it took that long to eat toast. Not really. It was good manners to wait and see if his host, Snape, was going to join him. Well he hadn’t, and Harry wasn’t sure where in the house the man had disappeared off to, or whether he should risk searching for him. Eventually he’d decided against it and departed, not leaving himself nearly enough time to shower, change and get up to the Defence classroom before his absence was remarked.
No doubt McGonagall and Hagrid would have noticed his empty seat at breakfast. He hoped it would be easy enough to explain away if they questioned him. If? Harry snorted. Of course they’d ask. He'd just tell them he’d overslept. No need to go creating elaborate stories that he had no hope of remembering. Or Merlin forbid, tell them the truth. Oh, yeah, sorry I missed breakfast. I was recovering from a night's hard shagging with Severus Snape. Can you pass the butter, Minerva?
Harry slipped through the huge double doors and immediately got caught up in the throng of children streaming out of the Great Hall. He stopped to let a crowd of Ravenclaws pass, and was about to resume his pace when Aurelius emerged, with a group of Gryffindors a few steps behind.
“Hey Princess!”
“Shut up, Marcus, don’t talk to that snake!”
“Where you going, Snaillius? Off to see your slimy Slytherin mates?”
“Don’t be stupid, they don’t like him either!”
“Can’t even play for our team now, can you? Stupid little prat!”
“Yeah, where’s your broom, Snaillius? Not so fast now, are you?”
Harry watched in horror as Aurelius sped up, small hands thrust deeply in his pockets; his wide, innocent and frankly terrified eyes trained on the floor. He flew up the staircase, towards the Gryffindor tower, as the jeering students followed, their taunts and catcalls chasing behind him.
Harry leant back against the door in shock. Everything had happened so quickly he hadn’t had time to intervene. He’d never been aware of bullying within Gryffindor before; inter-house rivalry was as old as the four founders, but generally students looked out for their own. He’d had his own run-ins with Seamus and Dean, even Ron a few times, but he’d never been ganged up on like that. No one had.
In his mind's eye, Harry could see Snape’s Pensieve memories all over again. Grainy images of his own father, continually dogging Snape’s every move, teasing him with verbal abuse and, when that failed, humiliating him in the worst possible way, using one of his own spells against him. Harry hadn’t enjoyed viewing those memories, but back then he’d always felt Snape probably deserved what he’d got. Now he wasn’t so sure, and he was certain that Aurelius didn’t deserve such treatment.
Harry gathered himself together and went to find the boy.
***
He wasn't difficult to find. Aurelius was sitting on his bed in the dormitory, red velvet drapes shielding him from view. Harry only knew he was there by his quiet sniffles, and he could only hear them after he’d surreptitiously removed the Silencing charms. He should have alerted the Head of House, but what was the point if the man was too blind to recognise bullying? Besides, Harry felt strangely responsible for Aurelius; the boy trusted him.
Harry had already cleared the entire tower out by ordering them all to make their way to classes early, levelling his most severe glare at the three boys responsible for Aurelius’ misery. He’d deal with them later, but right now he had more important things to do.
Harry carefully drew back the curtain, his heart sinking to discover the boy lying on his side, knees drawn up into his chest as he rocked himself with almost silent tears.
“Aurelius,” Harry’s voice was gentle, but the child startled nonetheless, frightened green eyes peering over his knees. Harry wanted to reach out and stroke his hair, to promise him he would not have to suffer like Snape had; that history would not repeat itself, because he, Harry, would make sure of it. His own father had started this, and he would see it finished.
Instead, he asked, “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
Aurelius blinked and two more fat tears rolled down his face. He shook his head and buried it in the pillow.
“Whatever you say, whatever’s happened, I promise I won’t let it happen again. I’ll-“
What? What could he do? He couldn’t watch the boy twenty four hours a day. He couldn’t expel pupils simply for a bit of name calling. Then another thought occurred to him, one that sent waves of cold dread down his spine.
“Aurelius – your arm. You didn’t fall out of bed, did you? What happened?”
The child clutched the pillow tighter to his face, so tight Harry wasn’t sure how he could breathe properly. He edged closer and ruffled his hair. Glancing around, there was no sign of the brand new broom, either.
“Where’s the broom your father sent you?”
More and more tears splashed the pillow, soaking into the cotton. Harry had to wonder about the whole bizarre homework episode too.
“Your essay, you said you’d done it, what happened to it?”
Aurelius suddenly let go of the pillow and threw himself against Harry’s chest, his tiny frame shaking as Harry wrapped him in strong arms and let him cry until the sobs became hyper. As ridiculously inappropriate as Harry knew it to be, he couldn’t help running his fingers through the long, black hair. It felt just like Snape’s, except softer and not greasy, and Harry held him tighter and stroked his back. Eventually his breathing returned to near normal, and it was Aurelius, not Harry, who made the move to break away.
“I – I’m s-s-sorry, sir,” he sniffed, wiping a sleeve across his puffy, red eyes.
“Stop. You have nothing to be sorry for, but you have to tell me what’s going on, or I can’t help you.”
Harry produced a handkerchief and passed it to him. Aurelius blew his nose loudly.
“My – my essay, sir, I’d d-d-done it! And they –” Another sudden hiccupping sob cut him off.
“Who are they? Did they take it? Like the broom? Is that why you haven’t been coming to practice? I thought you didn’t want to play anymore.”
“No! I – I couldn’t c-c-come, I wanted to and-“
A dark fury began to fill Harry, he had no idea why he should care so much, but he did. “And your arm? What happened?”
Aurelius flinched, like the memory in itself was physically painful. “I had some sweets. I shared them, but t-t-they wanted all of them and I said n-n-no. They kept saying I was a s-s-snake, that I wasn’t a real Gryffindor, that I didn’t belong anywhere. I tried to g-g-get away sir, I did, I shouted for help but no-one c-c-came, and then my arm, it hurt so much and-”
Harry felt tears prickling the back of his own green eyes. His eyes that were almost identical to the ones that were staring back at him with complete trust and terrified fear. There was a rush of protective feelings the like of which Harry had never experienced before. Leaning forward, he scooped the small boy into his arms and held him.
“It’s okay,” he soothed, “It’s going to be okay, I swear to Merlin you won’t have to worry again.”
Aurelius clung tighter to Harry’s robes.
“You can have my broom back, and you’ll play in the match Saturday. Consider all detention cancelled.”
He’d punished a boy who had done no wrong and the guilt was overwhelming. No wonder Aurelius had been so withdrawn in class. Harry hadn’t found out what had happened to the new broom, but it didn’t take a genius to work out that one way or another, it was unlikely to be in one piece.
“My father,” Aurelius sniffed, “what shall I tell him about the broom?”
“I’ll speak to him. He won’t be angry, not with you, anyway. Come on now, we’re both going to be late to class.”
Reluctantly, Aurelius extricated himself.
“You still haven’t given me names, Aurelius. I can’t help if you don’t tell me who did this.” Harry already knew, he’d seen them this morning, but he had to hear it from Aurelius.
With huge effort, and a fresh batch of petrified tears, the boy told him.
“Yardsley? But he’s on your team! And Barton – you sit with him in Defence sometimes.”
“Only when you make him sit with me, sir, and Yardsley wants to be Seeker. I don’t know why Roberts hates me, I thought – I thought we were friends. Until he-“
Aurelius didn’t need to say more; he was clutching his arm again and looking pained.
Harry placed a hand on the small shoulder, “We can sort this out, you’ll see. Let’s go, I’ll walk you to class.”
***
“For Christ’s sake,” Harry muttered under his breath, “Minerva, I don’t want tea. I want to talk about Aurelius Prince. He is being systematically bullied. What are we going to do about it?”
Harry assumed she was giving him one of her stern glares, but from his position by the window, looking out across the Quidditch pitch, he couldn’t see it. Nor did he care particularly.
“I understand you have concerns, Professor, but we only have the boy’s word! I cannot be seen to punish students without some evidence of these alleged incidents.”
“Alleged incidents? He told me he’d completed work for class then he didn’t have it when he turned up.”
McGonagall raised an eyebrow, “If it's the first time you’ve heard that excuse, Potter...”
“His broom, a brand new broom, a gift from his father is missing. Went missing, in fact, the same day he received it. The same day his essay mysteriously disappeared. Oh yeah, and let’s not forget the broken arm he suffered a few weeks ago, apparently when he fell out of bed.”
Harry took a deep breath and awaited the sharp reply undoubtedly coming his way. He wasn’t disappointed.
“I will not be spoken to in that tone, Potter. And I'll thank you to remember that Gryffindor has a head of house, to whom I shall pass on your concerns."
“Are you saying this is none of my business?”
“No of course not, and since you witnessed the trouble in the Entrance Hall you have my full permission to speak to the children involved regarding that, but as I have already made plainly clear, without proof or admission of further incidents, I will not consider suspension.”
“Then use his memories! Ask Aurelius to put them in the Pensieve.”
“That is totally unprecedented. We do not take memories from students under any circumstances.”
“Then take my word for it, I saw-“
“What you observed, was no more than verbal banter. We do not expel students for that. Deduct points, yes, give detention, yes, suspend them? Out of the question.”
“Fine. I’ll just have to pay closer attention. I trust you’ll believe me if I witness physical violence with my own eyes?”
McGonagall looked at him coldly, “As I always have, Mr Potter.”
***
Grabbing a towel, Harry wrapped it around his waist and returned to the sofa. The unopened letter with the handwriting of many a failed Potions’ essay lay on the table in front of him. Its delivery hadn’t been much of a surprise; now Snape knew Harry was aware of his relationship with Aurelius he was probably going to be getting a lot more involved; what did surprise Harry, was the interest his cock took upon recognising the penmanship. It had taken him a long, hot soak and a good wank to build up the necessary resilience to open it. Which was ridiculous, because this was surely just another bollocking from Snape. Breaking the red wax seal, Harry reclined into the cushions and unfolded the parchment.
Potter,
It has come to my attention that you have been overtly lenient with my son. I wish to discuss this matter with you in person. I will expect you tonight, at eight. Do not be late.
SP
Bloody cheek! Harry smirked. Just expecting him to be free like that. As if he didn’t have a hugely varied social life. Which, of course he didn’t, but that was hardly the point!
Harry dressed quickly and made his way to dinner, determinedly ignoring the butterflies in his stomach in favour of gritting his teeth and scowling at the trio of Gryffindors Aurelius had confided were responsible for his misery.
All through the meal, Harry watched them. It wasn’t just Aurelius who was the butt of their jokes; plenty of minor hexes were discreetly sent in all directions, but most sickeningly, always aimed at the smaller children. Yardsley was a third year, Barton and Roberts second years. It was unthinkable that they could have got away with beating up a first year and no senior child had stepped in to stop them. Perhaps they were clever; perhaps they only did this when there was no chance of getting caught. Cowards too, then.
When a nasty stinging curse sent underneath the table hit Aurelius in the leg, causing him to drop his fork and tears to spring to his eyes, Harry scraped his chair back so quickly it tipped over. Ignoring Minerva’s scowls, he stalked down the middle of the hall and glared, “Up, follow me. Now.”
Not so confident now, are you? Harry thought with small measure of satisfaction as they walked ahead of him, feet dragging, out into the hallway, exchanging worried glances. Directing them into a classroom that conveniently appeared, Harry let rip.
“You three are a disgrace to Gryffindor. Never have I encountered such nasty, malicious behaviour. Do you think you’re clever? Picking on children smaller than you? Well, DO YOU? Why don’t you have a go at me, if you’re so brave? Go on, Professor Potter is giving you a free shot. Let’s see what you can do with it. No? Kids like you make me sick. Do you have any idea how it feels to be bullied? Well let me make something very clear. If I see you so much as looking at Prince -- or any of the younger children -- again, I will hex you myself. You’ll be expelled quicker than you can say Lumos. I want you to apologise, return his broom, and his schoolwork. I’m taking fifty points, you all have a weeks’ detention and you, Yardsley, are off the team until I can be sure you’re a worthwhile person to have on it. Now get out.”
Harry was gratified to see the two younger boys looked close to tears. Yardsley, however, had a nasty half smirk on him that reminded Harry far too much of Malfoy.
“Make that two week’s worth of detention, Yardsley, and remember what I said. One whiff of trouble and you’re off the team and out of the school.”
As soon as the door quietly closed behind the last student, Harry let out a long breath and a muttered ‘shit’; Minerva would kill him if she found out half of what he’d said.
***
“You are late. I specifically told you not to be.”
“I had school stuff to sort out. I can’t just drop everything and-”
“Yes, yes, I believe we have had this discussion before. Is your mind really so miniscule that you can only relay snippets of old conversations?”
Harry was grateful for the rush of warm air that greeted him inside the cottage, though hopefully not so warm that he would faint again. Merlin, he hoped Snape wasn’t going to mention that.
“So what do you er-want?” Harry asked somewhat nervously as he followed Snape into the living room. It was a worrying thought that the house was starting to feel familiar.
“I wish to know why you reinstated my son to the Quidditch team and cancelled his detention. I am not sympathetic towards teachers who indulge in favouritism.”
“What?” Harry laughed incredulously, “Yesterday I was picking on him, and today he’s teacher’s pet?”
Snape turned midway through pouring whisky and raised an eyebrow, “Then how would you describe this rather sudden change of heart?”
Emboldened by what appeared to be an equal footing between them, Harry told him, “It has nothing to do with me and you. I mean, whatever happened last night and er, you know, what that was all about, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Articulate, aren’t you Potter?”
Harry rolled his eyes for his own benefit and took the glass Snape offered him, inexplicably nervous when the older man sat beside him on the sofa instead of taking the armchair he usually occupied.
“I found out that what I punished him for wasn’t actually his fault. It was only fair to set things right.”
“Oh? And how exactly did you arrive at the conclusion you had erred?”
Shit, was that a hand brushing his thigh? No, it couldn’t be. Harry cleared his throat and debated telling Snape the truth. Strictly speaking, this was a school matter and should be discussed as such, at an appropriate time. And yet, if he didn’t fill Snape in, it was bound to come back and kick him up the arse at some point.
“The mistake wasn’t mine. I mean, it was but there were...extenuating circumstances.”
“Cut the crap, Potter. What is going on with my son?”
Harry sighed and took a long slug of the whisky.
“There are some kids, they make fun of him. At first I thought it was just harmless teasing, but then he turned up to class without his homework, and he said he’d done it, so I assumed he was being awkward. That’s why I punished him in the first place. I had no idea – and then this morning,” Harry blushed and looked away, “when I got back, I caught them at it, nasty little jibes and comments. I followed him upstairs and he told me everything; his arm, the broom you sent him - it was stolen - , it was all down to these kids.”
Snape had never looked so malevolent or incensed, Harry thought, and that was saying something. “They broke his arm?”
“That’s-yeah, what he said.”
Harry jumped as Snape's whisky glass shattered against the brickwork and the fire flared higher from the splashes of alcohol. Snape was up on his feet and pacing before Harry could take another breath.
“And what reprimand have these children suffered?”
“Uh, nothing – exactly. I mean, they’ve been given detention and I took-“
“DETENTION?” Snape roared, a fine mist of spittle spraying Harry from behind, “They break my son’s arm and you assign detention?”
Harry slammed his own glass down rather forcefully, “Hey! I wanted them expelled! Minerva wouldn’t have it, said there was no evidence, refused to use the Pensieve to prove Aurelius right. I did the best I could! If she’d heard a fraction of what I threatened them...”
Snape looked up sharply, eyeing Harry as though he’d suddenly appeared stark bollock naked in his living room. “You threatened them?”
“Yeah. Christ, you’re not going to tell Minerva are you? He’s your bloody son; I was just trying to scare them off him.”
“And what would encourage you to do that, Potter?”
“Why would I-why wouldn’t I? He’s one of my students!”
“Do you always make threats on behalf of your students?”
“No but this is-it's nasty! And it’s happening in my old house.”
Snape grabbed another glass and filled it near to the brim. In less than five seconds it was empty again.
“Care to hear what I believe? You are using my son to redeem yourself. Oh look, Harry Potter is being nice to Severus Snape’s son. Why? Because he feels guilty. Because he does not want to be compared to his greasy ex Potions Master. Look at me, I’m Harry bloody Potter and I’m better than you!”
Harry scowled, “No one knows he’s your bloody son! And why should I feel guilty? I’m not acting like anything, this is me! I care about his wellbeing; I don’t want to see him lonely and friendless or so miserable that he spends all his time in the library. He’s a nice kid, and I would have thought you’d be a bit more concerned about him!”
Snape moved surprisingly fast for someone who’d just downed about ten fingers’ of scotch. Within seconds he was dragging Harry to his feet, hands gripping his shirt collar with such force that it was no surprise at all to hear the thin cotton rip along the shoulder seam.
“How dare you suggest I am not alarmed by this! I am only too aware of how sickening it is to be bullied. Your father-“
“Is not the reason I'm protecting him! Of course I’m ashamed of how my dad treated you at school, did you think I wasn’t? Did you think I had a good laugh over your memories? Well I didn’t! It made me sick, but that’s not why Aurelius is important, this isn’t my attempt at generational salvation! And if I have unconsciously treated him with the respect he deserves as a two fingers at you, then it is exactly that, unconscious! I don’t have it in me to hate an eleven year old!”
Snape shoved Harry away in disgust, “Back to that are we? Poor hard done by Harry Potter, unjustly victimised by the nasty-“
“You know you did! Don’t lie about it! You hated me because I looked like my dad. You never gave me a chance!”
Snape waved a weary hand on his way back to the bureau, “Yes, yes, believe what you will. Never mind the seven years I expended saving your worthless life, you ungrateful brat.”
“I’m ungrateful?! I testified on your behalf, cleared your name and kept you out of Azkaban, and what thanks did I get? You walked out of the Ministry without so much as a goodbye!”
“Oh I’m sorry, Potter! I had not realised I was beholden to you! Forgive me for believing I might finally be allowed to live my life away from the constant threat of death!”
Harry slugged his drink back and got to his feet, “So I’m good enough for a quick fuck but not worth extending any kind of common courtesy, like letting us know you were still alive, or where you’d gone!”
“What purpose would it have served? Were you informed of other Order members' whereabouts? Have you kept in touch with them? I have no idea why you would even have spared me a second thought!”
“I don’t know why either! I just did, all right? I wondered for years. Even more so as time went on. I’d never have known either, would I? You would never have revealed yourself to me if I hadn’t worked it out.”
Snape conceded the point with a stiff nod, “It is nothing personal, Potter. I simply bore no desire to exist under the microscope of public scrutiny. Nor for my son to be recognised and targeted because of my past transgressions.”
Harry, who had made it as far as the door, with every intention of leaving, faltered. “What past transgressions? You’re a bloody hero; you were given an Order of Merlin!”
“I was a Death Eater turned spy. I am responsible for the demise of people’s loved ones. For God's sake, I am accountable for your parents’ murder. How can you stand there with your charitable absolution?”
“Because you didn’t murder them!” Harry shouted, “Voldemort did!”
“Be that as it may, there are countless who deem me worthy of punishment. You ought to be one of them. How you can even stand to look at me, after I have constantly wronged you-“
Snape’s hand gripped the edge of the bookcase as his knees weakened. Harry rushed over to steady his arm but Snape shrank back from the touch.
“I repeatedly tormented you-“
“You didn’t, I understand, you had to behave that way-Voldemort-“
Harry was really starting to worry; no matter how much tolerance Snape might have for the hard stuff, downing a full glass like that, even without knowing how much the man had drunk beforehand, could not be good. His speech was slow and the usually harsh voice sounded broken.
“Have no idea, do you?”
“For God’s sake, just sit down will you?” Harry tried to take his arm again but Snape staggered back in an effort to get away, and slumped against the wall, then began to slide down it.
Harry was shocked when Snape buried his head in his hands, his body shaking with the effort to contain some obvious heavy duty emotion.
“Look, it’s really not that bad, Christ, I had no idea. Is that why you stayed away? I don’t hate you, really I don’t! I mean, how could I? The last few days, well, it was good, and, I enjoyed it and my parents – like I said, I don’t blame you for their deaths and you were pretty much horrible to everyone at school, so it’s not like-“
“SHUT UP!” Snape screamed, “THIS IS NOT ABOUT YOUR FUCKING PARENTS!”
Harry immediately felt the familiar spark of anger, but that was what Snape wanted, wasn’t it? To drive him away with his self-pity and refusal to believe that Harry had forgiven him? Admittedly, that was new, he’d thought the bastard didn’t care one way or the other, but evidently he did, and it was something that needed addressing before they carried on with whatever was developing between them.
“Well no matter what it’s about, I forgive you, okay? So can we just get over this now?”
The laugh that rang in Harry’s ears was highly unnerving. He’d never heard Snape laugh, except it wasn’t a normal, happy laugh. It was sinister, mocking, disgusted. It was everything Harry had come to expect from the man.
“Precisely how dim-witted are you, Potter? You actually have no clue? Tell me, how many unusually powerful wizards are there in this country? How many of them were Gryffindors? And how many of those few have green FUCKING EYES?”
Harry just stared at the crumpled form, shrouded in black; Snape wasn’t making any sense.
“My son is also your son! Yet another thing I have stolen from you! Another unforgiveable crime my lack of conscience allowed me to commit! Did you not notice his eyes? Do you not see yourself in him every single day? Because I damn well do! From the moment he was born! Eyes as green as emeralds, skin as soft as silk, his hair...all you, Potter! Eleven years of staring at your face, hoping never to cross paths with you again for fear that you would find out! Your urge to protect him is not borne from mere concern as his teacher; it is the Parental Bond that is drawing you to him!”
Harry couldn’t have fallen to his knees faster if someone had sledge-hammered the backs of them. The breath in his lungs seemed to rush from his body and blood thundered through his ears.
“What-what are you talking about? He’s not my son – there are – the spell, I know what you need and we’ve never – it’s not possible.”
Sounding eerily calm, Snape said, “I took what I needed from you, Potter. The first and last Ministry celebration I ever deigned to attend. The men’s washrooms. You and I-“
“YOU SICK BASTARD, WHY ARE YOU LYING ABOUT THIS? I WOULD NEVER HAVE TOUCHED YOU. I HATED YOU!”
“You were paralytic, Potter. Umbridge herself could have wanked you off that night, and you would never have known who was holding your cock. So sweet, your moans, so grateful. Something I have cherished for a long time. How ironic that you should willingly end up in my bed after all this time.”
“That’s – you’re lying – I remember, you weren’t even there! You never went to any fucking Ministry parties BECAUSE I SPENT ALL MY TIME LOOKING FOR YOU!”
“One. I attended one. By the time I arrived you were already three sheets to the wind. If you don’t believe me, ask Poppy to run a paternity test. So, Potter, where’s your sainted forgiveness now?”
Snape clawed at the wall until he was upright. Harry couldn’t move; he was paralysed on hands and knees, staring at the cream carpet, convinced he was going to be sick.
“Why? Why would you do that?” he whispered, barely able to raise his head enough to see Snape sneering at him.
“Because I could. Because I wanted a life, and someone to share it with. Because I wanted a piece of you, Potter. I wanted you, and how likely was it that you would want me in return? Every day, every single day I have you, in him. And I love him more than you could ever imagine. I regret my deception of you, I regret my actions more than you can imagine, but I will never regret his existence.”
“Oh God,” Harry moaned, lowering his head to rest it on his forearm, “this isn’t happening. I don’t know why you’re saying this but it can’t be true.”
Snape moved towards him, gait uneven, affected as it was by such a swift injection of alcohol. Kneeling down next to Harry, he reached out a shaky hand and awkwardly stroked his hair.
“You used me,” Harry said dully, “You...you raped me.”
Soothing fingers turned into claws, clenching painfully as Snape twisted Harry’s head back, ignoring the tears that pooled in the corners of his eyes. Aurelius' eyes, Harry couldn't help thinking. Snape loosened his grip a little but did not let go.
“I did no such thing. You might not possess a memory of the event but I do. Perhaps you should view it, if only to extinguish that ridiculous notion.”
Harry wrenched out of Snape’s clutch and toppled backwards to sprawl on the carpet, forcing his legs to work long enough to get to his feet. Snape remained kneeling, still staring at his empty hand. Harry wanted to kick him in the head.
“You’re disgusting. How could you do that? WHAT FUCKING RIGHT DID YOU HAVE TO DO THAT TO ME? I never wanted children! I didn’t want them with Ginny, and I sure as fucking hell wouldn't have wanted any with you!”
Harry’s breathing was ragged and approaching hyperventilation but he couldn’t sit down, couldn’t stand still, couldn’t think about anything other than Aurelius being his.
Snape didn’t move, didn’t speak. Kept staring at the slight indent in the carpet where Harry’s knees had been.
“I was with Ginny, I wouldn’t have cheated on her with you, it...you...why tell me? Why now? You could have told me any time in the last ELEVEN FUCKING YEARS! It’s not like I was hard to find! If you were so worried about me finding out, why fucking TELL ME NOW?”
Harry didn’t expect an answer. He barely paused. His brain was hardwired to his mouth and all the disjointed, random things that occurred to him, tripped off his tongue.
“Four months. You needed four months to prepare for pregnancy. When did you do it? Which party? There were loads but they were all straight after the war, they’d filtered out by September. You planned it, didn’t you? Fucking hell, you manipulative bastard! This wasn’t some one night stand that got you pregnant, this was premeditated. You USED ME!”
Harry barely managed to restrain himself from taking a shot at Snape’s ribs as he stalked to the bookcase and grabbed the whisky bottle, throwing the cap at the wall and downing the contents so quickly it dribbled around the rim and soaked into his shirt.
“What am I supposed to do now? Carry on working like I don’t know? What did you think would happen if I found out? Did you even stop to consider I might challenge your custody?”
Snape snapped his head back and glared, “I will kill you before you set foot in the Ministry to file those papers.”
“Oh yeah, fucking kill me! Why not! You’ve taken everything else from me!”
“I cannot lose him. He is all I have-” Snape seized the back of the sofa and hauled himself up.
“What about me? What do I have?” Harry screamed, throwing his arms open and sloshing more liquid across the once-pristine carpet.
“You could have both of us. I didn't protect your life merely out of some misguided loyalty to your mother or Albus. I didn't simply pick you because of your magic. I certainly didn't pick you because of your status. Interactions were always...volatile...between us, of that I am well aware, and I certainly held no hope that you might be as equally attracted to me, no idea you might ever have given me a second thought until you came here with your Gryffindor nosiness. You are incapable of not meddling. I should never have let him attend Hogwarts. I considered sending him to Durmstrang, knowing as I did that you taught at Hogwarts-it was not an easy decision. To be honest, the prospect of you discovering the truth was both repellent and attractive. But Aurelius insisted on Hogwarts. Perhaps he had fantastical notions of discovering some trophy with his father’s name on it.”
“What?” Harry stared incredulously, then began to laugh, “Play happy families? Two random fucks and a paternity test later, and you think we should be a couple? I DON’T LIKE YOU! Right now, I fucking loathe you, and no amount of sticking your cock up my arse is going to change that! And what were you planning on telling OUR son? ‘Oh by the way, Aurelius, I forgot to mention you have another father, who just happens to be Harry Potter, someone who is as socially inept as I am, which leads me to another fact I also neglected to mention; I’m a War Hero and an ex Death Eater! But that’s all in the past now, and we’re going to be one big happy family!”
Harry clung to the whisky bottle as though it were the only thing anchoring his sanity. Snape was staring at him again; he could feel it, those evil bastard eyes, as black as hell, boring into him. The room tilted slightly and rage steadily worked its way through his body, affecting every part of him until his violent shivers were uncontrollable. Still Snape said nothing, leant against the back of the sofa, with his cruel and spiteful sneer, mocking him, ruining his life.
Harry turned and hurled the bottle at Snape with an outraged bellow, Apparating away before either a thunk or a smash could confirm where it had landed.
Part Five
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