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the_flicTitle: Master Green Eyes (Part Five)
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 4,000.
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: Wow, you guys! Leaving me such lovely comments! Keep them coming, my head is getting bigger by the second! Will reply later to Chap 4 comments but right now have to go visit Paddy's dad in hospital (will fill you in on that later). Enjoy!!
“Did you know?” Harry shouted, before the stone gargoyle had fitted back into place.
“Potter, if this is about Aurelius Prince again-“
Aurelius Prince, Harry thought. Even the boy’s name was a lie. He wasn’t a Prince. He was a Potter or a Snape or some grim amalgamation of both but he was no fucking Prince.
“Did you know I’m his father? Well, not a father because I had no idea he even existed until a month ago! How can I have been a father to him? His sperm donor then! His biological, uninformed donor.”
McGonagall sat back in her chair looking shocked. “What nonsense are you talking about now? Honestly, Potter, I am beginning to worry for your mental health.”
Harry clenched his fists and wished his cheeks weren’t razed red with fury.
“Did. You. Know?” he repeated angrily, uncurling his fingers to grip the back of the chair he’d been invited to sit in.
“Know what?” McGonagall snapped back.
“Severus Snape is Aurelius Prince's father. And, apparently, so am I. Are you telling me you have no knowledge of the ritual a male wizard needs to perform in order to have a child? That the sperm of two wizards-” Harry was gratified to see the Headmistress blush slightly, “-is the only way to do it, and they both have to have extremely high levels of magic for it to work. When did you find out Snape had a child? Did you not wonder who that child’s other father might have been? Or didn’t you care enough to find out? What morals, Headmistress!”
McGonagall’s lips pinched tighter together with each word Harry said until they had all but disappeared.
“I knew of Severus’ pregnancy, yes. I was also aware of the ritual and the necessary steps to ensure its success, but it was not my place to intrude and ask personal questions, nor did I think to question the legality of the situation. I hardly imagined that it was dubious in nature. Potter, are you saying Severus abused you?”
“He admitted to...God, I can’t deal with this.”
Shoulders shaking, Harry sagged into the chair and covered his face with his hands.
McGonagall waited patiently until he wiped his cheeks with his sleeve.
“I understand that these circumstances are grave, very grave indeed, but I must ask how you came to discover Severus’ identity when you were expressly forbidden from prying.”
“What?” Harry glared, “you’re excusing his behaviour and condemning me for mine? If you’d told me in the first place, this would never have happened!”
“Potter, I am not responsible for your dire lack of self-control, nor am I responsible for Severus Snape. He is no longer a work colleague, but a friend, whereas you are a member of my staff and, as such, are under my purview and expected to adhere to the rules!”
“And if I had? I wouldn’t have known anything about my own son! Why are you so concerned about Snape’s privacy when he blatantly violated mine?”
McGonagall sighed patiently, “Severus was very insistent that his identity remain a secret, for the child’s sake as much as his own, probably more so. He adores the boy, Potter, and his intention was to spare Prince from any ridicule he might endure purely on the basis that Severus is his father. If what you’re saying is true, that Severus initiated this conception without your prior consent, I would be most disappointed in him.”
“Disappointed?” Harry scoffed, “And what about my disappointment? Missing eleven years of my son’s life?”
“Don't deliberately misunderstand me, Potter. I am genuinely sorry for what you are going through, and I am as shocked as you are.”
Harry braced his hands on the chair arms and pushed himself up, “I – I need time to think about this. I don’t know what to say.”
Harry was grateful when his departure wasn’t protested. He didn’t want or need transparent platitudes, either. Right now, he didn’t have a clue what he wanted.
***
Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and resolved to go flying, until he remembered that Aurelius had his broom. Reaching the Gryffindor tower, he loitered near the portrait, undecided about whether to try and find him or not. How would he feel, seeing him in a new light? What if he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and just blurted it out.
“Hey Prince, can I borrow the broom back for a couple of hours? Oh yeah, and by the way, I’m your father. Your other father.”
Harry snorted mirthlessly. This entire situation was a nightmare. How could he not have known he had a child? Surely there was some instinctive way to know you’d conceived a baby. What bloody use was a Parental Bond if it kicked in a decade too late?
Eventually Harry gave up on his indecision and returned to his quarters. Sinking miserably into the sofa, he ignored the owl at the window. The bird must have been waiting a long time, because it was resignedly perched on the sill, hooting self piteously.
“Piss off,” he muttered, lying down and covering his eyes with a forearm to block out some of the light.
The bird continued to stare morosely through the window, occasionally making soft noises of protest.
How would Aurelius take the news, assuming he or Snape even agreed to tell the boy? Harry couldn’t decide if he even wanted to be a part of the child’s life. A small part of him, the part that wasn’t disgusted by the whole sorry affair, was thinking about the amazing opportunity he had to develop a relationship that was bound by unconditional love. But what if Aurelius didn’t want him? What if he turned his nose up at Harry and ran straight back to Snape?
Harry pulled his knees tighter to his chest and closed his eyes, letting an uneasy sleep claim him.
“Oh god, yeah, want you to touch me.”
“Sorry Potter, I didn’t quite catch that. You want me to do what?”
“Touch me, please!” Harry gasped, good manners rewarded when his trousers were tugged down and a firm hand flattened his chest to the cubicle door.
“Ah. You wish for me to wrap my hand around your cock?” Snape replied, doing just that.
Harry bucked into the fleshy warmth and groaned loudly.
“Ssh, Potter. I cannot imagine you wish for your friends and fans to discover you in a dubious tryst with your Potions Master and enduring adversary.”
“Not..my...adversary,” Harry panted, “fuck...wanted this...ages now...”
“As have I, Potter, as have I.” Snape whispered.
Harry sat bolt upright, breathing heavily as the closeness of the dream slipped away and the living-room swam back into focus, the blasted owl still tapping at the window.
Harry groggily got to his feet and let the bird in, none too gently removing the letter it held and snatching up some parchment.
He scrawled, STAY OUT OF MY FUCKING HEAD!
Tossing the unopened letter into the fire, Harry tied the note to the owl , begrudgingly fed it a treat and then pointed it in the direction of the window.
He returned to the sofa and watched flames lick the sides of the envelope, briefly glowing orange before the vicious scrawl that simply read ‘Potter’ disintegrated.
Nothing was good. Nothing was how Harry felt. He was nothing, his feelings meant nothing, his privacy meant nothing. He was The Boy Who Lived, why should he expect anything different?
Hermione, Harry thought desperately, Hermione would help him make sense of everything. Hadn’t she said herself that Harry couldn't shock her? Well, this revelation was certainly going to test that theory. It took a tremendous amount of effort for Harry to throw the Floo powder down; once he’d done this, once this secret was out, there would be no going back.
***
Hermione had been only too pleased to escape her overbearing mother-in-law for a while, and she tumbled out of the Floo smiling sweetly and dusting ash off of her clothes. After the customary hug, Harry urged her to sit down and politely requested that she let him speak, because if he didn’t say what he needed to, right now, he wasn’t sure he’d have the nerve again. Saying it out loud was like confirming it to himself, and Harry didn’t know if he was ready to do that just yet.
“Er, thanks for coming. I need to tell you something, but you have to keep it a secret.” Heartened by her fervent nod, Harry continued, “You know the little boy I introduced you to last time you were here? Well, he is Snape’s son. I got his address details and went round there.”
Best not to mention what had actually occurred that evening, not unless he wanted to have to call Madame Pomfrey for a Revitalising Draught when Hermione passed out on the sofa. There was only so much shocking someone could withstand in a single day.
“But you weren’t supposed-“
“Please,” Harry held up his hand and swallowed a hard lump. He just had to get this all out. It was like a plaster, needing to be ripped off rather than peeled slowly away.
“I know I wasn’t, but I did. I think he was surprised I knew about the ritual and the..ah... necessary ingredients. You know...well anyway, oh God Hermione, you’re not going to believe this. The other wizard is me. I’m Aurelius’ other father.”
Hermione’s mouth fell open before she managed to compose herself and shut it again, then burst out laughing.
Harry frowned, “Why are you laughing?”
“Oh Harry! You’re so sweet! Trying to cheer me up with jokes! You and Snape?”
“Christ, Hermione, this isn’t a joke. I had a massive row with the greasy git and he told me everything. One of the Ministry parties, he – in the – I can’t remember what happened because I was completely shit-faced but then I had a flashback earlier and - oh God, I – shit!”
Tears constantly threatened to spill whilst Harry struggled to recount as much of their explosive argument as he could remember, which in truth wasn’t anything detailed since he’d been too gobsmacked by the revelation to take much of anything else in. When he’d told Hermione everything, he slumped back and looked at her grimly.
“Oh Harry!”
Her warm sympathetic tone broke the last shred of his reserve, and his tears fell freely. Hermione pulled him into a tight hug and stroked his back, and somewhere through his misery Harry remembered holding Aurelius the same way, his son, he realised, and that made him cry harder.
“What are you going to do? You could challenge him for custody. I’m sure the Wizengamot would rule in your favour, especially if you tell them that Snape deliberately kept this from you, and how he tricked you into it. I know he’s been commended and everything, but still, being an ex-Death Eater isn’t going to do him any favours, especially not against you, Harry.”
“He didn’t trick me into it, I mean, it was consensual, but I was so drunk and I didn’t consent to having a bloody baby! I don’t know, I can’t think straight! I wasn’t ready for children, not with Ginny, not with anyone. I’m not sure I’m ready now, Hermione. Part of me wants to hand in my resignation and never see either of them again, and another part of me wants to get to know him and be involved in his life. The vindictive part of me wants to keep him and tell Snape to go fuck himself. See how he likes being excluded for eleven years.”
“I don’t understand why Snape sent him to Hogwarts if he knew you were teaching here. Why not send him to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang?”
“Apparently he wanted to, but Aurelius insisted on Hogwarts.”
Hermione actually had the gall to smirk, “Oh! He sounds just like you!”
Harry stared at her incredulously, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Stubborn and headstrong. Well let’s hope they’re the worst of your qualities he’s inherited.”
“Probably the only ones,” Harry muttered.
“Nonsense! For a start he’s a Gryffindor, Harry! That must have really shaken Snape up. And then there are his eyes. I noticed, you know, last time. I mean, I had no idea, really. How could I have guessed? But they’re very green, like yours. His hair is as dark as yours, too.”
“Dark as Snape’s you mean.”
“No, I don’t think it is, actually. Even your nose, Harry! Thank Merlin he didn’t get Snape’s nose!”
At that Harry couldn’t help but laugh. It was that or cry again.
“You really think he looks like me?”
“The more I think about it, yes. There’s a really strong resemblance there.”
“That’s what Snape said. From the minute he was born, he said, it was like looking at me every day. Can’t imagine why he’d want that, when he never used to be able to stand the sight of me.”
Remembering that should have made Harry angry but it didn’t. It just felt sad, like a heavy weight had settled in his stomach.
Hermione held his hand. “He hated everyone. And all that extra vitriol spewed at you was obviously to convince Voldemort he was doing his job properly. Anyway, you can’t waste any more time, Harry. You’ve missed so much already.”
“I know. It’s just such a shock. I mean...Snape.” Harry sighed.
“Hmm. But you should remember what I told you about it being a small miracle that this child was even born in the first place. I know that doesn’t help much, or make you feel better, but he is special, Harry, really special.”
“Well of course he is,” Harry said, smiling faintly. “No child of mine could just be born normally. He’d have to be an enigma of wizarding fertility wouldn’t he?”
Hermione beamed and hugged him again, “Everything will work out just fine, you’ll see.”
***
After Hermione had left, Harry spent the rest of the evening getting progressively more intoxicated and ignoring what seemed to be a large flock of owls hammering at the window. At one point, Harry counted fourteen, but then amused himself by admitting he was probably seeing double of everything. The night was no less peaceful; despite his body being tired, his mind continued to work overtime and even when he did manage to fall asleep, it was fitful and punctuated with terrible dreams.
The morning didn’t improve his mood either. With the added addition of a hangover to his woes, not to mention the bags under his eyes and the – Harry counted again – yes, fourteen owls lined up on the windowsill like ducks in a shooting gallery, the very last thing he wanted to do was teach his classes. Or go to breakfast, or God, what a terrible thing to think, see Aurelius. Harry’s chest tightened again until the pain felt like a physical ache. There was nothing for it though, he’d have to grit his teeth and be a Gryffindor.
Harry entered the Great Hall and scowled at the brilliantly blue sky, even though outside it was pouring with rain, much more suitable to his mood, he thought. He stalked past the tables, slowing down to glare at Yardsley, Barton and Roberts, and ignored his heart flipping when he saw Aurelius’ toothy grin. Evidently the boy hadn’t had any further problems since Harry’s cosy little chat with his bullies yesterday. Yesterday. That had been less than twenty four hours ago and yet it felt like a century. Yesterday, before his whole world had been ripped apart at the seams.
Harry slid into his chair and flinched slightly when Hagrid rested a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“Alright ‘arry? Looking a bit peaky, there!”
“Just a headache,” he mumbled, sipping some pumpkin juice and wishing he hadn’t. It tasted like mothballs. The food wasn’t much better. Every mouthful was dutifully chewed and choked down, despite Harry feeling like he just wanted to throw it all back up again. He tried to focus on his plate and not keep glancing over at the Gryffindor table, but it was like an invisible magnet drew his eyes there. A few times, Aurelius met his gaze and on each occasion the boy grinned before tucking back into his food. Harry wondered if Hermione would think their grins matched, too. He couldn’t have inherited Snape’s grin when the man never actually smiled.
Despite his breakfast tasting awful, at least it filled his stomach and helped to alleviate some of the tension in his skull. Minerva stopped just behind Harry’s chair and patted his shoulder awkwardly, hesitating to say something and then deciding against it. Harry was glad when she reached her seat in the middle of the table, well away from him. He couldn’t even think about talking to her again just yet. Rationally, Harry knew she wasn’t to blame; how could she have known Snape had used him like that; but the not so rational part of his brain insisted that had she come clean when he’d first asked her about Aurelius, that this might all have been avoided. Well, he wouldn’t have gone to visit Snape for one thing.
Thunderous flapping pulled him out of his procrastination. Harry watched in horror as fourteen owls flew in perfect formation, nearing the head table and swooping down at the last moment, each one delivering a fat envelope with that godforsaken spider scribble across it. Each envelope addressed with the single word ‘Potter’.
Harry scowled at the pile of correspondence before sweeping it up in his arms and carrying it off to the nearest fireplace. He threw them into the flames one by one, feeling a little better each time the paper caught light and twisted.
***
Harry rubbed his eyes and put his glasses back on. The fourth year essays were simply not riveting enough to stop his mind from wandering endlessly over the situation. The knock at his door, however, was a perfect distraction.
“Come in!”
Harry glanced up and visibly paled, “Get out!” he shouted, instinctively going for his wand.
Snape Accio’d it and snatched the thin length of wood out of the air, stalking forward to slam it down on Harry’s desk. “I understand you may have...issues... at the present time, however I would be remiss if I did not caution you that if you point that in my direction ever again, I will not hesitate to snap it in two.”
Pocketing his wand, Harry scowled darkly, “What are you doing here? I thought you only came to the school in dire emergencies?”
Without invitation, Snape helped himself to a chair. “I have sent numerous letters requesting to see you, and you have ignored them all.”
“And what does that tell you?”
“That you are as obstinate and intractable as you always were. There are concerns that demand our mutual attention, whether the prospect fills you with delight or not.”
Harry opened his mouth to say something venomous but his office door flew open and Aurelius barrelled in, eyes wide and shining.
“Papa!” he cried, throwing himself at Snape and burying his face in the crook of his neck, small arms twined tightly around the black clad shoulders.
Smiling crookedly, Snape stroked the boy’s hair back from his face, chuckling when childish hands clasped his cheeks and smothered them in butterfly kisses.
“Prince!” Harry snapped, “you weren’t given permission to interrupt us, why aren’t you in class?”
Snape glared at him, but Aurelius carried on beaming, “It’s break-time, sir, and it’s your class next anyway. I didn’t know Father was visiting, I saw him in the corridor! I was coming to tell you my broom appeared this morning! I can give yours back now!”
Snape watched Harry as he said, “Did Professor Potter lend you his broom, Aurelius? I hope you remembered your manners and thanked him.”
Aurelius couldn’t seem to stop gazing in adoration at Snape, combing his fingers through the older man’s hair. “Of course I did, Papa! Are you coming to watch me play Quidditch on Saturday?”
Harry smirked. Snape wouldn’t attend the match. No doubt he had Flooed in to see Minerva and then walked the shadows between her office and Harry’s. It was an entirely different thing to sit out in the stands with all the other parents and students who would likely recognise him.
“Ah, we will have to wait and see. One can never predict the demand for potions, as well you know, son.”
“Okay,” Aurelius replied brightly, although he didn’t look too hopeful. Harry wanted to jump up and drag him out of Snape’s lap. He’d be at the Quidditch match, but what did that matter when Aurelius wasn’t interested in him?
“Right, I really must insist you go back to the common room, Mr Prince. I have a very short amount of time before class starts and your father wants to speak to me. In private, I assume?”
The fact that Snape was so very slow in answering made Harry nervous. Surely he couldn’t be contemplating telling the boy, not here, not like this, when Harry wasn’t yet sure what he wanted. Not that that had ever mattered to the man, he thought bitterly.
“Do as your Professor says. I shall look forward to you coming home for Christmas.”
Aurelius pouted but climbed off Snape’s lap, bending down to kiss his cheek again, “I’ve missed you so much, Father,” he whispered.
Swallowing his misery, Harry ordered the boy out. Aurelius glanced back to smile at Snape, then closed the door behind him.
“I’d love to hang around and chat, but as your son just confirmed, I have a class in ten minutes’ time.”
“Our son, Potter, whether you care to accept the fact or not, but since you appear to have no interest in discussing the matter further, might I ask you to return the photographs?”
Frowning in confusion, Harry looked up from the evasive paper shuffling he was indulging in. “What photographs?”
“The photographs, Potter, that were sent along with my requests for a meeting. Images of our son from the past eleven years. One, most notably, of which I have but a single copy: a picture taken minutes after his birth.”
“I burnt them,” Harry admitted in a horrified whisper.
Snape recoiled, a disgusted sneer transforming his face. “You burnt pictures of your own child?”
“I didn’t know the letters contained pictures! I just thought – “
“You ungrateful – “
“I didn’t ask you to send them!”
“Then rest assured, you shall not receive any more.”
Snape got to his feet and stalked towards the door.
“That’s not your decision though, is it?” Harry shouted at the retreating form. “In whose favour do you think the Wizengamot will rule, I wonder, when they hear all about Aurelius’ conception?"
Snape spun round. “Threats, Potter?” he hissed, “Why would you bother if you want nothing to do with him? To punish me? You do not deserve him!”
“I DIDN’T WANT CHILDREN!” Harry shouted, shoving the desk violently as he stood up. “You put me in this position and now you want what from me? What do you fucking want?”
“Nothing. We neither want nor need anything from you. I have tried my best to be reasonable, now kindly stay away.”
“I don’t know what I'm supposed to do! Can’t you understand that? SNAPE!”
Snape wrenched the door open and froze. All the blood drained from Harry’s face when he saw the small figure standing in the doorway. For a long moment, no one moved. Aurelius looked rapidly back and forth between them with wide, disbelieving eyes, then turned and fled.
“Oh shit!” Harry tore round the desk and shoved past Snape who seemed to be rooted to the spot. Harry didn’t glance back to see the look of distress on the older man’s face.
Part Six, Final Part
***
Author:
fbowdenBetas:
leela_cat and brknhalo241Characters: Harry/Snape
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: off screen mpreg, angst, romance.
Word Count: 33,000 total. This chapter 4,000.
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: Wow, you guys! Leaving me such lovely comments! Keep them coming, my head is getting bigger by the second! Will reply later to Chap 4 comments but right now have to go visit Paddy's dad in hospital (will fill you in on that later). Enjoy!!
“Did you know?” Harry shouted, before the stone gargoyle had fitted back into place.
“Potter, if this is about Aurelius Prince again-“
Aurelius Prince, Harry thought. Even the boy’s name was a lie. He wasn’t a Prince. He was a Potter or a Snape or some grim amalgamation of both but he was no fucking Prince.
“Did you know I’m his father? Well, not a father because I had no idea he even existed until a month ago! How can I have been a father to him? His sperm donor then! His biological, uninformed donor.”
McGonagall sat back in her chair looking shocked. “What nonsense are you talking about now? Honestly, Potter, I am beginning to worry for your mental health.”
Harry clenched his fists and wished his cheeks weren’t razed red with fury.
“Did. You. Know?” he repeated angrily, uncurling his fingers to grip the back of the chair he’d been invited to sit in.
“Know what?” McGonagall snapped back.
“Severus Snape is Aurelius Prince's father. And, apparently, so am I. Are you telling me you have no knowledge of the ritual a male wizard needs to perform in order to have a child? That the sperm of two wizards-” Harry was gratified to see the Headmistress blush slightly, “-is the only way to do it, and they both have to have extremely high levels of magic for it to work. When did you find out Snape had a child? Did you not wonder who that child’s other father might have been? Or didn’t you care enough to find out? What morals, Headmistress!”
McGonagall’s lips pinched tighter together with each word Harry said until they had all but disappeared.
“I knew of Severus’ pregnancy, yes. I was also aware of the ritual and the necessary steps to ensure its success, but it was not my place to intrude and ask personal questions, nor did I think to question the legality of the situation. I hardly imagined that it was dubious in nature. Potter, are you saying Severus abused you?”
“He admitted to...God, I can’t deal with this.”
Shoulders shaking, Harry sagged into the chair and covered his face with his hands.
McGonagall waited patiently until he wiped his cheeks with his sleeve.
“I understand that these circumstances are grave, very grave indeed, but I must ask how you came to discover Severus’ identity when you were expressly forbidden from prying.”
“What?” Harry glared, “you’re excusing his behaviour and condemning me for mine? If you’d told me in the first place, this would never have happened!”
“Potter, I am not responsible for your dire lack of self-control, nor am I responsible for Severus Snape. He is no longer a work colleague, but a friend, whereas you are a member of my staff and, as such, are under my purview and expected to adhere to the rules!”
“And if I had? I wouldn’t have known anything about my own son! Why are you so concerned about Snape’s privacy when he blatantly violated mine?”
McGonagall sighed patiently, “Severus was very insistent that his identity remain a secret, for the child’s sake as much as his own, probably more so. He adores the boy, Potter, and his intention was to spare Prince from any ridicule he might endure purely on the basis that Severus is his father. If what you’re saying is true, that Severus initiated this conception without your prior consent, I would be most disappointed in him.”
“Disappointed?” Harry scoffed, “And what about my disappointment? Missing eleven years of my son’s life?”
“Don't deliberately misunderstand me, Potter. I am genuinely sorry for what you are going through, and I am as shocked as you are.”
Harry braced his hands on the chair arms and pushed himself up, “I – I need time to think about this. I don’t know what to say.”
Harry was grateful when his departure wasn’t protested. He didn’t want or need transparent platitudes, either. Right now, he didn’t have a clue what he wanted.
***
Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and resolved to go flying, until he remembered that Aurelius had his broom. Reaching the Gryffindor tower, he loitered near the portrait, undecided about whether to try and find him or not. How would he feel, seeing him in a new light? What if he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and just blurted it out.
“Hey Prince, can I borrow the broom back for a couple of hours? Oh yeah, and by the way, I’m your father. Your other father.”
Harry snorted mirthlessly. This entire situation was a nightmare. How could he not have known he had a child? Surely there was some instinctive way to know you’d conceived a baby. What bloody use was a Parental Bond if it kicked in a decade too late?
Eventually Harry gave up on his indecision and returned to his quarters. Sinking miserably into the sofa, he ignored the owl at the window. The bird must have been waiting a long time, because it was resignedly perched on the sill, hooting self piteously.
“Piss off,” he muttered, lying down and covering his eyes with a forearm to block out some of the light.
The bird continued to stare morosely through the window, occasionally making soft noises of protest.
How would Aurelius take the news, assuming he or Snape even agreed to tell the boy? Harry couldn’t decide if he even wanted to be a part of the child’s life. A small part of him, the part that wasn’t disgusted by the whole sorry affair, was thinking about the amazing opportunity he had to develop a relationship that was bound by unconditional love. But what if Aurelius didn’t want him? What if he turned his nose up at Harry and ran straight back to Snape?
Harry pulled his knees tighter to his chest and closed his eyes, letting an uneasy sleep claim him.
“Oh god, yeah, want you to touch me.”
“Sorry Potter, I didn’t quite catch that. You want me to do what?”
“Touch me, please!” Harry gasped, good manners rewarded when his trousers were tugged down and a firm hand flattened his chest to the cubicle door.
“Ah. You wish for me to wrap my hand around your cock?” Snape replied, doing just that.
Harry bucked into the fleshy warmth and groaned loudly.
“Ssh, Potter. I cannot imagine you wish for your friends and fans to discover you in a dubious tryst with your Potions Master and enduring adversary.”
“Not..my...adversary,” Harry panted, “fuck...wanted this...ages now...”
“As have I, Potter, as have I.” Snape whispered.
Harry sat bolt upright, breathing heavily as the closeness of the dream slipped away and the living-room swam back into focus, the blasted owl still tapping at the window.
Harry groggily got to his feet and let the bird in, none too gently removing the letter it held and snatching up some parchment.
He scrawled, STAY OUT OF MY FUCKING HEAD!
Tossing the unopened letter into the fire, Harry tied the note to the owl , begrudgingly fed it a treat and then pointed it in the direction of the window.
He returned to the sofa and watched flames lick the sides of the envelope, briefly glowing orange before the vicious scrawl that simply read ‘Potter’ disintegrated.
Nothing was good. Nothing was how Harry felt. He was nothing, his feelings meant nothing, his privacy meant nothing. He was The Boy Who Lived, why should he expect anything different?
Hermione, Harry thought desperately, Hermione would help him make sense of everything. Hadn’t she said herself that Harry couldn't shock her? Well, this revelation was certainly going to test that theory. It took a tremendous amount of effort for Harry to throw the Floo powder down; once he’d done this, once this secret was out, there would be no going back.
***
Hermione had been only too pleased to escape her overbearing mother-in-law for a while, and she tumbled out of the Floo smiling sweetly and dusting ash off of her clothes. After the customary hug, Harry urged her to sit down and politely requested that she let him speak, because if he didn’t say what he needed to, right now, he wasn’t sure he’d have the nerve again. Saying it out loud was like confirming it to himself, and Harry didn’t know if he was ready to do that just yet.
“Er, thanks for coming. I need to tell you something, but you have to keep it a secret.” Heartened by her fervent nod, Harry continued, “You know the little boy I introduced you to last time you were here? Well, he is Snape’s son. I got his address details and went round there.”
Best not to mention what had actually occurred that evening, not unless he wanted to have to call Madame Pomfrey for a Revitalising Draught when Hermione passed out on the sofa. There was only so much shocking someone could withstand in a single day.
“But you weren’t supposed-“
“Please,” Harry held up his hand and swallowed a hard lump. He just had to get this all out. It was like a plaster, needing to be ripped off rather than peeled slowly away.
“I know I wasn’t, but I did. I think he was surprised I knew about the ritual and the..ah... necessary ingredients. You know...well anyway, oh God Hermione, you’re not going to believe this. The other wizard is me. I’m Aurelius’ other father.”
Hermione’s mouth fell open before she managed to compose herself and shut it again, then burst out laughing.
Harry frowned, “Why are you laughing?”
“Oh Harry! You’re so sweet! Trying to cheer me up with jokes! You and Snape?”
“Christ, Hermione, this isn’t a joke. I had a massive row with the greasy git and he told me everything. One of the Ministry parties, he – in the – I can’t remember what happened because I was completely shit-faced but then I had a flashback earlier and - oh God, I – shit!”
Tears constantly threatened to spill whilst Harry struggled to recount as much of their explosive argument as he could remember, which in truth wasn’t anything detailed since he’d been too gobsmacked by the revelation to take much of anything else in. When he’d told Hermione everything, he slumped back and looked at her grimly.
“Oh Harry!”
Her warm sympathetic tone broke the last shred of his reserve, and his tears fell freely. Hermione pulled him into a tight hug and stroked his back, and somewhere through his misery Harry remembered holding Aurelius the same way, his son, he realised, and that made him cry harder.
“What are you going to do? You could challenge him for custody. I’m sure the Wizengamot would rule in your favour, especially if you tell them that Snape deliberately kept this from you, and how he tricked you into it. I know he’s been commended and everything, but still, being an ex-Death Eater isn’t going to do him any favours, especially not against you, Harry.”
“He didn’t trick me into it, I mean, it was consensual, but I was so drunk and I didn’t consent to having a bloody baby! I don’t know, I can’t think straight! I wasn’t ready for children, not with Ginny, not with anyone. I’m not sure I’m ready now, Hermione. Part of me wants to hand in my resignation and never see either of them again, and another part of me wants to get to know him and be involved in his life. The vindictive part of me wants to keep him and tell Snape to go fuck himself. See how he likes being excluded for eleven years.”
“I don’t understand why Snape sent him to Hogwarts if he knew you were teaching here. Why not send him to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang?”
“Apparently he wanted to, but Aurelius insisted on Hogwarts.”
Hermione actually had the gall to smirk, “Oh! He sounds just like you!”
Harry stared at her incredulously, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Stubborn and headstrong. Well let’s hope they’re the worst of your qualities he’s inherited.”
“Probably the only ones,” Harry muttered.
“Nonsense! For a start he’s a Gryffindor, Harry! That must have really shaken Snape up. And then there are his eyes. I noticed, you know, last time. I mean, I had no idea, really. How could I have guessed? But they’re very green, like yours. His hair is as dark as yours, too.”
“Dark as Snape’s you mean.”
“No, I don’t think it is, actually. Even your nose, Harry! Thank Merlin he didn’t get Snape’s nose!”
At that Harry couldn’t help but laugh. It was that or cry again.
“You really think he looks like me?”
“The more I think about it, yes. There’s a really strong resemblance there.”
“That’s what Snape said. From the minute he was born, he said, it was like looking at me every day. Can’t imagine why he’d want that, when he never used to be able to stand the sight of me.”
Remembering that should have made Harry angry but it didn’t. It just felt sad, like a heavy weight had settled in his stomach.
Hermione held his hand. “He hated everyone. And all that extra vitriol spewed at you was obviously to convince Voldemort he was doing his job properly. Anyway, you can’t waste any more time, Harry. You’ve missed so much already.”
“I know. It’s just such a shock. I mean...Snape.” Harry sighed.
“Hmm. But you should remember what I told you about it being a small miracle that this child was even born in the first place. I know that doesn’t help much, or make you feel better, but he is special, Harry, really special.”
“Well of course he is,” Harry said, smiling faintly. “No child of mine could just be born normally. He’d have to be an enigma of wizarding fertility wouldn’t he?”
Hermione beamed and hugged him again, “Everything will work out just fine, you’ll see.”
***
After Hermione had left, Harry spent the rest of the evening getting progressively more intoxicated and ignoring what seemed to be a large flock of owls hammering at the window. At one point, Harry counted fourteen, but then amused himself by admitting he was probably seeing double of everything. The night was no less peaceful; despite his body being tired, his mind continued to work overtime and even when he did manage to fall asleep, it was fitful and punctuated with terrible dreams.
The morning didn’t improve his mood either. With the added addition of a hangover to his woes, not to mention the bags under his eyes and the – Harry counted again – yes, fourteen owls lined up on the windowsill like ducks in a shooting gallery, the very last thing he wanted to do was teach his classes. Or go to breakfast, or God, what a terrible thing to think, see Aurelius. Harry’s chest tightened again until the pain felt like a physical ache. There was nothing for it though, he’d have to grit his teeth and be a Gryffindor.
Harry entered the Great Hall and scowled at the brilliantly blue sky, even though outside it was pouring with rain, much more suitable to his mood, he thought. He stalked past the tables, slowing down to glare at Yardsley, Barton and Roberts, and ignored his heart flipping when he saw Aurelius’ toothy grin. Evidently the boy hadn’t had any further problems since Harry’s cosy little chat with his bullies yesterday. Yesterday. That had been less than twenty four hours ago and yet it felt like a century. Yesterday, before his whole world had been ripped apart at the seams.
Harry slid into his chair and flinched slightly when Hagrid rested a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“Alright ‘arry? Looking a bit peaky, there!”
“Just a headache,” he mumbled, sipping some pumpkin juice and wishing he hadn’t. It tasted like mothballs. The food wasn’t much better. Every mouthful was dutifully chewed and choked down, despite Harry feeling like he just wanted to throw it all back up again. He tried to focus on his plate and not keep glancing over at the Gryffindor table, but it was like an invisible magnet drew his eyes there. A few times, Aurelius met his gaze and on each occasion the boy grinned before tucking back into his food. Harry wondered if Hermione would think their grins matched, too. He couldn’t have inherited Snape’s grin when the man never actually smiled.
Despite his breakfast tasting awful, at least it filled his stomach and helped to alleviate some of the tension in his skull. Minerva stopped just behind Harry’s chair and patted his shoulder awkwardly, hesitating to say something and then deciding against it. Harry was glad when she reached her seat in the middle of the table, well away from him. He couldn’t even think about talking to her again just yet. Rationally, Harry knew she wasn’t to blame; how could she have known Snape had used him like that; but the not so rational part of his brain insisted that had she come clean when he’d first asked her about Aurelius, that this might all have been avoided. Well, he wouldn’t have gone to visit Snape for one thing.
Thunderous flapping pulled him out of his procrastination. Harry watched in horror as fourteen owls flew in perfect formation, nearing the head table and swooping down at the last moment, each one delivering a fat envelope with that godforsaken spider scribble across it. Each envelope addressed with the single word ‘Potter’.
Harry scowled at the pile of correspondence before sweeping it up in his arms and carrying it off to the nearest fireplace. He threw them into the flames one by one, feeling a little better each time the paper caught light and twisted.
***
Harry rubbed his eyes and put his glasses back on. The fourth year essays were simply not riveting enough to stop his mind from wandering endlessly over the situation. The knock at his door, however, was a perfect distraction.
“Come in!”
Harry glanced up and visibly paled, “Get out!” he shouted, instinctively going for his wand.
Snape Accio’d it and snatched the thin length of wood out of the air, stalking forward to slam it down on Harry’s desk. “I understand you may have...issues... at the present time, however I would be remiss if I did not caution you that if you point that in my direction ever again, I will not hesitate to snap it in two.”
Pocketing his wand, Harry scowled darkly, “What are you doing here? I thought you only came to the school in dire emergencies?”
Without invitation, Snape helped himself to a chair. “I have sent numerous letters requesting to see you, and you have ignored them all.”
“And what does that tell you?”
“That you are as obstinate and intractable as you always were. There are concerns that demand our mutual attention, whether the prospect fills you with delight or not.”
Harry opened his mouth to say something venomous but his office door flew open and Aurelius barrelled in, eyes wide and shining.
“Papa!” he cried, throwing himself at Snape and burying his face in the crook of his neck, small arms twined tightly around the black clad shoulders.
Smiling crookedly, Snape stroked the boy’s hair back from his face, chuckling when childish hands clasped his cheeks and smothered them in butterfly kisses.
“Prince!” Harry snapped, “you weren’t given permission to interrupt us, why aren’t you in class?”
Snape glared at him, but Aurelius carried on beaming, “It’s break-time, sir, and it’s your class next anyway. I didn’t know Father was visiting, I saw him in the corridor! I was coming to tell you my broom appeared this morning! I can give yours back now!”
Snape watched Harry as he said, “Did Professor Potter lend you his broom, Aurelius? I hope you remembered your manners and thanked him.”
Aurelius couldn’t seem to stop gazing in adoration at Snape, combing his fingers through the older man’s hair. “Of course I did, Papa! Are you coming to watch me play Quidditch on Saturday?”
Harry smirked. Snape wouldn’t attend the match. No doubt he had Flooed in to see Minerva and then walked the shadows between her office and Harry’s. It was an entirely different thing to sit out in the stands with all the other parents and students who would likely recognise him.
“Ah, we will have to wait and see. One can never predict the demand for potions, as well you know, son.”
“Okay,” Aurelius replied brightly, although he didn’t look too hopeful. Harry wanted to jump up and drag him out of Snape’s lap. He’d be at the Quidditch match, but what did that matter when Aurelius wasn’t interested in him?
“Right, I really must insist you go back to the common room, Mr Prince. I have a very short amount of time before class starts and your father wants to speak to me. In private, I assume?”
The fact that Snape was so very slow in answering made Harry nervous. Surely he couldn’t be contemplating telling the boy, not here, not like this, when Harry wasn’t yet sure what he wanted. Not that that had ever mattered to the man, he thought bitterly.
“Do as your Professor says. I shall look forward to you coming home for Christmas.”
Aurelius pouted but climbed off Snape’s lap, bending down to kiss his cheek again, “I’ve missed you so much, Father,” he whispered.
Swallowing his misery, Harry ordered the boy out. Aurelius glanced back to smile at Snape, then closed the door behind him.
“I’d love to hang around and chat, but as your son just confirmed, I have a class in ten minutes’ time.”
“Our son, Potter, whether you care to accept the fact or not, but since you appear to have no interest in discussing the matter further, might I ask you to return the photographs?”
Frowning in confusion, Harry looked up from the evasive paper shuffling he was indulging in. “What photographs?”
“The photographs, Potter, that were sent along with my requests for a meeting. Images of our son from the past eleven years. One, most notably, of which I have but a single copy: a picture taken minutes after his birth.”
“I burnt them,” Harry admitted in a horrified whisper.
Snape recoiled, a disgusted sneer transforming his face. “You burnt pictures of your own child?”
“I didn’t know the letters contained pictures! I just thought – “
“You ungrateful – “
“I didn’t ask you to send them!”
“Then rest assured, you shall not receive any more.”
Snape got to his feet and stalked towards the door.
“That’s not your decision though, is it?” Harry shouted at the retreating form. “In whose favour do you think the Wizengamot will rule, I wonder, when they hear all about Aurelius’ conception?"
Snape spun round. “Threats, Potter?” he hissed, “Why would you bother if you want nothing to do with him? To punish me? You do not deserve him!”
“I DIDN’T WANT CHILDREN!” Harry shouted, shoving the desk violently as he stood up. “You put me in this position and now you want what from me? What do you fucking want?”
“Nothing. We neither want nor need anything from you. I have tried my best to be reasonable, now kindly stay away.”
“I don’t know what I'm supposed to do! Can’t you understand that? SNAPE!”
Snape wrenched the door open and froze. All the blood drained from Harry’s face when he saw the small figure standing in the doorway. For a long moment, no one moved. Aurelius looked rapidly back and forth between them with wide, disbelieving eyes, then turned and fled.
“Oh shit!” Harry tore round the desk and shoved past Snape who seemed to be rooted to the spot. Harry didn’t glance back to see the look of distress on the older man’s face.
Part Six, Final Part
***