Le Garcon de Saint-Maur

by

Isabella C Robertson

Disclaimer: Anything Harry Potter related belongs to J.K Rowling.

Chapter One: Monsieur Snape

Saint-Maur-des-Fosses, January 6th, 1997

Monsieur Snape,

I regret to inform you that your previous wife, Nathalie Duval passed away last Thursday (2nd). She had been suffering with pneumonia for some time and despite all medical assistance, was unable to make a full recovery. Her condition steadily worsened at the end of December and she died peacefully in her home. Funeral arrangements have already taken place.

Whilst none of us here expect you to take time from your duties to visit, our main concern is your son, Nathaniel Duval-Snape. As you are his remaining sole guardian, we have filed all legal documents to have your son transported to you immediately from Paris. His will be arriving at Glasgow airport tomorrow afternoon at 2pm approximately.

Find enclosed legal documents.

Regards,

Pierre Roués-Sue, Child Protection Chief, Sector 45, France.

Folding the letter between shaking fingers, he allowed a brief moment of grievance for Nathalie Duval, then pocketed the letter. Pushing his meal to one side, he excused himself from the staff table and swept swiftly between the students, escaping into the dungeons. As he moved his thoughts whirled insanely in his mind. A million and one questions seemed to form, flashing briefly, but to quick to allow him the chance to answer a single one.

She was dead? And Nathaniel? He was coming where? Here? No. No that couldn't be, not after all this time. He wouldn't approve. She wouldn't approve. Absolutely not.

He turned left and paced down Gladden's Corridor, the heels of his shoes clicked rhythmically against the cobble floor. He concentrated for a moment on the sound and he tried to remember. He tried to remember her smell, her smile, her eyes, anything that would help him latch to a memory. Nothing prevailed and as he reached his office, he felt his heart beat out of time. A deep sigh rattled his chest.

"You're an incompetent loser!" she had spat at him. He remembered that much, their final departing. Those words stung him harshly. He now realised just how those words had effected him, considering he had carried them with him these past eleven years.

Lighting a lamp, he sat at his desk, dropping his head into his palms. He rubbed his temples soothingly, considering every option that he had. Had the child no other family? No uncle, aunt, friend, grand-parent? Merlin knows his own mother would never allow it. Severus snorted at the thought of Eileen Snape nee Prince taking his son in, she wouldn't allow it. Her days were spent withering away in a chair, staring out the window and regretting her entire life. She had never moved on, though Severus had and in time, had cut all contact with her. For the best, he reminded himself each time a simper of doubt plagued his mind.

From beneath his desk, he retrieved a bottle of brandy and a snifter that he stored there for any life crisis that attacked him. He could smell the mulled fruit before the clear liquid even touched the base of the snifter. The scent drifted beautifully, a sweet reminder of life's pleasure, the vapour swirling around his nose in an almost teasing fashion. He sniffed lightly and could almost feel the buzz of activity in his mind decrease. Lifting the glass to his lips, he tipped it slightly, anticipating the flow of sweet tonic and allowed the tiniest of sips pass between his teeth. He breathed a sigh of relief. Kirschwasser. A present from a friend in Germany whom he'd done a favour for nearly 5 years ago. The man had taste, he admitted.

As the kirsch warmed his stomach he leaned into the chair, closing his eyes and trying to recall his child. He remembered him as a baby, he had dark hair, whether it had lightened to his mothers brown, he didn't know. He hadn't been around long enough to see. His mind refused to allow him access the memories, every image he had could have been any child, they all looked the same at that age, did they not? He wasn't a fantastic father, he knew that and he didn't need to be reminded. Did he feel guilty for not being there? If he were to honestly admit this, he would say no. He couldn't remember Nathaniel, he had brief memories of a little boy at the age of three sitting at a table, picking a flower, demanding sweets. But that could have been any child, perhaps his mind had created these memories to compensate for his feelings of guilt? He dismissed the thought. Rubbish!

"A subtle hint of cherry and a slight bitter almond essence. Marvellous brew, I do say."

Severus opened his eyes warily. His mind felt hazy again. He stared at the chair in front of him where Professor Dumbledore sat, an empty glass in hand and his tongue licking the vapour from his lips. He bore his usual overly friendly smile and head ache rendering cheeriness. Severus sighed.

""Grace yourself with another, won't you?" he suggested, moving the bottle closer.

"I shan't, not tonight. I have many letters of anger to reply to and I fear a slight merry mind would call for drastic sarcasm on my behalf. No, no, best leave this beauty for another night."

"I shall set aside a glass for you then. How may I help you headmaster? Have you got wind of news?"

Dumbledore shook his head slowly, entwining his fingers on his lap. "Unfortunately, the only news I have is that of the students personal lives and to be honest, even I find it far to mushy to retell. It does not marvel to be all seeing at times." he smiled.

Severus grunted at him. He could see the usual twinkle forming, which only meant he was scheming. He watched as Dumbledore began flexing his fingers, then entwining them, then squeezing them, then flexed them again, then entwined them and squeezed them and then pop.

"About time too," he said lightly, wiggling the knuckle he had cracked, "Blasted thing has been giving me trouble all morning. Did you know that it's almost impossible to fold socks without the use of all fingers? Thank Merlin for the assistance of Madam Pomfrey, I had to run straight to her with that crisis."

"I'm sure it was turmoil for you." Severus drawled, tapping his foot lightly against the floor. He could see no future end in sight for this conversation. He wondered what Professor Trelawney would have to say on the matter, he was confident that her prediction would be nothing but dismal.

"I sense urgency on your behalf, Severus." Dumbledore said, resting an elbow against the desk. "I'll get to my reason for being here. You left dinner rather urgently, I must say unusual for you. It was your favourite, was it not? Spaghetti bolognas?"

Severus cringed inwardly. He suddenly felt like a child, but he wasn't entirely sure why. He wished he could lie about the situation, pretend that it was all one big mix up and that this Nathalie Duval was insane and he had no idea who she was. While it sounded tempting, and he was sure he could pull it off, he just couldn't.

"I received a letter of importance." he began. "From a Mr Pierre Roués-Sue, in France. He is chief of child protection over there. It seems that my previous wife, Nathalie Duval has passed on recently and they were writing in regards to Nathaniel, my son."

"Oh." Dumbledore chimed, crossing his legs and leaning foreword. "My deepest sympathies of course, Severus, for you and Nathaniel."

He waved a hand and shook his head. "Don't. I knew neither of them well enough to feel grief. It sounds harsh, I know, but-"

"It is understandable. And what is to become of Nathaniel?"

"Well that's the issue at hand Headmaster. Apparently, he has no other living relative, bar myself, with whom he can reconcile. I was given no choice in the matter. These are the papers." he pulled the letter and documents from his pocket and slid them to Dumbledore.

He picked them up and read quietly for a moment, then dropped then and entwined his fingers once more.

"You haven't signed them yet." he commented.

"I know."

"Why is this?"

Severus stared at him. He wasn't sure if Dumbledore was suggesting something, or using reverse psychology in an effort to make him feel emotion. You never really could tell when it came to Albus Dumbledore, you always just had to guess and wing on that until he told you what he was up to.

"It has been 12 years, Headmaster, since I last met Nathanial face to face. That is an entire life time for a boy his age. I know nothing of him, I have never corresponded with him other than the occasional birthday card and even at that, he never replied and never acknowledged my existence."

"Does a challenge of reunification deter you, Severus? If so, I must say I am disappointed. You are not one to step away from a challenge."

"It's not a challenge, Albus. It's a child. A teenager. Jesus, I don't even know what he looks like. He probably doesn't even remember me. Whose to say she ever told him that I existed? She probably didn't, fucking hell I wouldn't want me to exist in my life either if I were her."

Dumbledore creased his brow. "Why do you make these assumptions?" he asked, "Based on what fact can you be certain of anything?"

"I was a murderer Albus, a bloody murderer when I met her. She had no choice in the matter of marrying me and I the same. It was done for the sake of infesting the world with this manic idea of pure blood that I stupidly fell for. He wasn't planned out of love, Albus. He was a fucking experiment. A crazy experiment to see if pure blood could populate faster than mud… faster than normal humans." he sighed and picked up the legal documents. "If I sign this, I'm not promising him a life of joy with me. I'm not a parent, I never was."

Dumbledore nodded his head, whether or not he was agreeing, Severus couldn't tell. He allowed the headmaster a moment to gather his thoughts, waiting for a reply. Then it came. Far more surprising than he had expected.

"I think you are a very foolish man, if you do not sign your name to that custody paper. Parenthood is not an ingrained ability, Severus, that is what you must understand. Parenthood is a learned subject. You do not wake up and know what to do. You must wake up and try something and then learn when it does not work. In absolutely no way, can you turn Nathaniel away from your door. As proved, he has no other living relative except for you and I certainly have no objection with him residing at Hogwarts the remainder of the year, nor should you! I will leave you with your thoughts for now, it is your decision. You can either accept this challenge, or run from it. Either way , it will follow you to your grave, Severus. Of that I assure."

With that he stood and left the room slamming the door a little. Severus stared at where he had previously sat, mulling on his mentors words. Was he really foolish for not wanting to bring his son into a world he himself struggled with? It was no secret that he loathed most days. Even if he brought him to Hogwarts, where would he go? What would he do? This had to be a complete secret, he could not allow the student body get wind of any story. He poured himself another glass of Kirsch but could not bring himself to drink it. He just watched as the liquid rippled softly around the glass, leaving a few droplets dribble slowly down the sides.

Alas, another Professor Snape fiction. If you take the time to read and review this story, then I appreciate it very much. Nothing encourages writing more than response. For those of you interested in my imagination, you can visit my profile where I have a work in progress and a one shot. I hope to see you in future chapters.

Isabella C Robertson