Author's Note: Okay, this is set after Deathly Hallows, but Snape doesn't die… everyone else does though :( I always thought that Harry would've liked to go through his 7th year and finish school.
Some Friendly Advice: [because I'm friendly and you know it. No? Fine…] Change the story width to 1/2 and enlarge the font size twice.
Disclaimer:I do not own Harry Potter or the book's characters… I only own my characters which are the spawn of the Harry Potter characters and some which are not; okay I'm talking too much.
Warning:
Rated M just in case.
This story contains MPREG (that's male pregnancy, something that only a bored m/m HP fan would make up…)if that makes you throw up then do not continue. Your computer, your eyes and your throat will thank you in the future.
This story is a Snarry/SSHP/SSxHP …you get the point. So therefore, it includes male/male [I am hoping that means boy/boy love and NOT yaoi or smut… 'cause I don't write that… I just sort of fade it out, but it DOES happen... just faded out :)
. . . . .
It was a couple of months from graduation when Harry practically knocked Snape's door down. He found an old journal that belonged to his father as he was packing for the Easter Holidays, he read through passages and passages of insults and hexes that he'd thought funny, it was the middle of the night but the boy didn't care, he donned his invisibility cloak immediately and ran to the Potions Master's quarters.
The door opened and Snape glared down at the boy, "It's the middle of the night. What do you want, Potter?"
"I'd like a word, sir." Said Harry.
Snape seemed to ponder on this and nodded, "Make it quick. I've got work to do." Both surprising and relieving Harry.
Harry sighed in relief and walked in, awkwardly sitting on the chair in front of Snape's desk. He watched as the older man continued a letter he was writing. It seemed funny to him then, that after having encountered death, loss and more situations where he could've lost his life than anyone else in the world, after defeating the most powerful dark wizard of all time, after passing such a mundane thing as 6th year exams, after having almost finished school. After all that. He was still highly intimidated by the greasy Potions Master.
Moments passed in silence and Snape looked up, "You wanted a word, Potter?"
"Um… yes sir. I'd – I'd like to ask, sir. It's been months since – since you know – and… you still hate me." Harry blushed, realising how childish the question sounded.
Snape ignored him and kept writing.
"Sir." Said Harry. "Were you listening?" Harry's embarrassment was fading away and replacing it was anger.
"Yes, Potter." Snape looked up and glared at him. "I am not an imbecile. I thought I made it clear when you took my memories away from me."
"Yes, but…"
"But what, Potter."
"I – I—" Harry took a deep breath and began slowly, "It's the end of year, sir."
"That is not my problem, Potter." Snape dropped his quill. "If this conversation isn't going anywhere, I suggest you go back to your dorms and quit wasting my time."
"No."
"What?"
"No."
"20 points from Gryffindor."
"It doesn't matter. I don't care."
"Another 20."
"Just listen to me!" Harry was shaking in his seat, not believing that this man actually thought that taking points from his House could make him leave just like that.
"10 points."
"I saved your life."
"My life didn't need saving."
"I don't care."
"What, Potter?"
"I don't care if you think you're worthless, I didn't save your life just because I just felt like it. I saved it because I needed you and I still do."
"I am of no use to you or to anyone. You're deluding yourself, Potter."
"Will you stop calling me that!" Harry shouted. "Every time you call me that, you're only reminding me that I'm James's son. James's equal and I know that's true and I can't change the truth, but I'm also Lily's. And you never even gave the part of her that was in me a chance. You never gave me a chance." Harry stood up and leaned over the desk, his face so close to Snape's that he could feel his breath and it infuriated him even more.
"Life is a bitch, Potter and if you haven't understood that at such an age, with such experience, then I have overestimated you, and I assure you—"
"Will you listen to yourself! You never stop to think that maybe, just maybe you refuse to accept people for who they are? You're criticising me like you would criticise my father! The James you knew was a boy who thought bullying others was funny. I would never sink to that level, Snape." Tears were forming in the boy's eyes from frustration.
"Does this hurt you, Potter?" Said Snape with a slight smile.
"I knew it." Harry murmured. "Everyone said you couldn't listen. Everyone said you were deluded. You never want to listen to anyone."
"Excuse me." Said Snape, walking around the desk. "I have been listening to orders upon orders for years, from the Dark Lord and Dumbledore. Don't you dare tell me I haven't been listening. I'm sick and tired of being ordered around, boy. For once, I'm in control of my own life and you dare accuse me of having never listened?" Snape almost hit the boy, but he stopped when he saw the boy shaking, his entire face was red and tears continuously fell from his face.
"I'm sorry." He whimpered. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He kept repeating. "I didn't want the conversation to go this way. I'm sorry." He took his glasses off, they were stained with tears, they were useless for now, he put them in his pocket then he looked right at Snape. "I'm—"
"Save the pity party for your friends, Potter. You'll have to be that shallow as to think I'm actually going to sympathise for you. Wipe your face and get out." Snape was afraid. He was afraid that he would've been too tempted to comfort the boy. He loved him. For a long time now. But that longing also brought along fear and he found himself covering it all up with hate.
Harry didn't answer.
"Do not be stubborn with me, Potter. I am not in the mood."
"I'm not leaving until I get my point across. I don't care if it takes until morning or if I have to come back every day until you let me take some of your time to listen. I don't care."
Snape's hand twitched as if he would hit the boy, but then he sighed, and sat back on his chair with his arms folded. He glared at the boy and waited for him to 'get his point across.' He damn well knew how persistent—no, stubborn, we mustn't credit the insolent brat—the boy was. "So, Potter?"
Harry looked up and was surprised to see Snape looking so patient. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and started, "Well—"
"Merlin, are you that unhygienic, Potter that you have never learned of a handkerchief? Honestly. Utterly disgusting." He kept muttering as he opened a drawer and threw a newly laundered one across the table.
"I'm sorry for being so fucking rude, sir." He wiped his face and when he looked up he saw his professor seething with rage.
"For someone who just cried like a girl, Potter, I would've thought you'd have enough sense not to push your emotions any further."
Harry couldn't help himself. "And for a grown man of thirty-eight. I wouldn't have thought you could be able to PMS like a teenage girl!"
"Mister Potter…" Harry knew he pushed the man too far.
Harry stood his ground. Staring at the man and breathing heavily, his heart beating fast against his chest. He remained silent, his eyes, however, were a whole other story.
Neither man knew how long they stood there staring at each other. It was Snape who broke the silence, his calm voice surprising Harry. "I'm going to pretend this never happened, Potter, if you leave. Now."
Harry nodded and left. They pretended to forget what had happened for the remainder of the year.
It would have been two weeks before graduation, when Harry had already sat his finals that Harry finally cracked.
He walked down the dungeons, hidden, again, in his father's Invisibility Cloak. Remembering their last private meeting, he decided he wouldn't have an argument with his Professor and as much as possible, he wouldn't have small talk, either. He knocked on the door and captured the man's lips the moment the door opened, by instinct, the man had him blasted into a wall with not too much damage and the boy started laughing his head off.
"What is it that you found so hilarious, Potter?" Said Snape as he offered a hand to help the boy up.
The first thing that Harry noticed, once upright, was that his usually pale Potions Professor had gone pink.
"I've never been blasted into a wall for kissing someone before." He said.
"And I assure you, it will never happen again."
Snape was staring down at him and he had to admit, it was quite intimidating. "I apologise, sir."
"Regrets are a weakness, Potter." Said Snape, wiping his mouth with the back of his jacket sleeve, even if it was almost summer and the heat was getting unbearable without a cooling spell.
"I'm sorry."
"How many times—!" Snape's voice was rising and he stopped himself from shouting.
Harry looked down. Suddenly, the kiss on his lips felt like sin. He was disgusted of himself for acting so rashly and he was ashamed of himself for wanting more. He brought his arms behind his back and started scratching at them until he felt blood streaming down his wrist. Snape caught the boy wincing and pulled his hands forward, watching the guilt on his face.
"Stupid." He muttered as he quickly healed the boys arm, removing the pain that he needed so bad. Harry didn't turn to self-harm too often, this was just the second time… the first time wasn't even wanted; it was brought upon by Umbridge… several times actually. "I want you to listen to me, Potter. You will never do this again." He nodded. "Good." He felt his lips press onto his forehead and reached down to his lips, Harry pulled his face back.
"I'm sorry." Snape muttered and pulled back, but Harry pulled him back in an embrace. Neither knew how long they stood there in each other's arms, it could've been ten minutes or an eternity for all they cared.
Harry came back to the dungeons that night. There was no shouting this time.
"I'm in love with you." Harry closed his eyes, waiting for reality to sink in. He expected to be slapped, he expected to be shouted at, to be told to forget about it, that he was an idiot and he didn't know what love was, but then there were his lips, and the man was kissing him and for a moment, he didn't know what to do but stand there.
"I'm in love with you." Harry repeated.
"Shh…" Snape moved from his mouth to his chin, trailing kissed down to his neck. He nipped and sucked until Harry let out a small moan, then he stopped, looking unsure, worried.
"It's okay."
Snape hesitated.
"I swear it is." Harry pulled him in for another kiss and Snape found himself unbuttoning the boy's shirt and watching the material as it fell to the ground, again, he pressed his lips to the boys mouth. It didn't end there.
The morning they woke up, Snape demanded Harry to leave, practically shoving him out the door. Harry never went to his graduation. No one knew why.
. . . . .
Harry
. . . . .
15 years later…
"Dad!" Silas laughed. "Stop it! Stop—"
Harry dodged as his son tried to shoot at him with a watergun. Wand at the ready, he pointed it at him and yelled, "Aguamenti!" A jet of water shot towards the boy. It hit him square in the chest and splashing on his face, he coughed and sputtered and at the same time, dodged the stream of water his dad was shooting at him.
"No fair! No fair! I'm not allowed to use a wand out of school yet!"
"All right." Said Harry. "We're done." He felt something wet trickling down his hair and he realised his son picked up one of the smaller water guns and was shooting at him with it. "Impervius."
"Geez." Silas groaned. "You're such a killjoy." He fell onto one of the chairs on their back porch, Harry lied down on the one beside him.
Silas supported himself on one elbow and stretched his neck to look at his dad, who had his eyes closed and his hands on his chest as if he were sleeping. "Hey Dad?"
Harry opened one eye, "Yeah?"
"I found this thing in my drawer."
"Yeah?" 'Not last week's pizza. Please.'
"It was a diploma… from this Hogwarts place, I think." 'Oh. That.'
"Yeah?" Harry sat up, remembering how he received it from the mail…
"What's Hogwarts?"
"It was my High School." Harry shrugged, hoping he'd lay off the topic.
Silas leaned forward and whispered, "I wanna go there, too. "
"Don't be ridiculous, you're just getting into High School this year. You already applied." Harry was starting to get nervous.
"Yeah," Silas said. "But I don't really feel like going to Michigan's, you know?"
"What's wrong with Michigan's?" Harry asked.
"I wanna... I don't know. I wanna go to England, I wanna see where you grew up and stuff. I mean, we've never left the country. I'm getting into High School, it's just the right time, isn't it? I can meet all your friends and stuff." Friends…? They must've forgotten. Surely they've forgotten.
"Secondary School there starts when you're eleven. Besides, I'm not even sure if they'll accept you into Hogwarts, they have each student accepted, you don't really just get into a grade. All—if not most—the people there started from their first year." He started tapping his fingers on the arm rest nervously.
"Can we just sort of go there for a little while, see if they accept me and if they don't… well screw it, right?"
Harry was silent for a while before nodding. "Sure." He said, his face blank, but inside, a ton of memories overwhelmed him. Friends, family… what he's left behind… He's been hiding his – their – son for 15 years now, maybe no one would remember, maybe everything will be okay. Maybe he would have forgotten.
Silas got up, saying something about taking a shower and giving Harry some time to think on it.
Harry leaned back into his chair again remembering finding out, they had sex education at Hogwarts, he knew that wizards could get pregnant – in fact, they usually found out much earlier than witches as it caused a lot of hormonal changes, after that, the pregnancy would have been much too obvious. But he never knew it could happen to him. The memory was so fresh that it could have just been yesterday that he enveloped himself in his invisibility cloak, tears flowing down his face and his heart hammering in his chest. Deluding himself into thinking that he didn't want him. Knowing he didn't want him. But what hurt the most was that he still wanted him. He remembered the pain, guilt and regret that he once felt, the vulnerability.
And freedom.
There was freedom. No more cameras following him. No more interviews. No more letters. He could start anew. He remembered moving in to his first house and taking care of everything, Withdrawing all his money from Gringotts and using it to buy whatever baby products he could lay his hands on. He remembered the first time he saw and held his son and he cried. From pain and happiness. Pain that his other father wasn't there to comfort him, to see his child, to grow with him and happiness through knowing he could have this one person, however insignificant he may have been at that moment, to have Harry's blood and his blood flowing in his veins. To love someone who would love him back. He was 18. And he was foolish.
Harry got up and just reached his son down the hall, a towel on his shoulder. "Hey Si?" The boy turned around. "Let's just write a letter and see what happens."
He wasn't ready yet, but he'd go to the ends of the world for his boy.
. . . . .
"Dad! Dad!" Silas jumped on Harry and started punching him. "Dad, wake up!"
"Wha'? Wha'! 'Kay, tell me, I'm 'wake… an' quit punchin' me…"
"Professor McGonagall answered! She said another Fourth Year hasn't answered yet and they could accept me, dad!" Silas started jumping again.
"Pr…fess…. Said what?" Harry rubbed his eyes and checked his watch. 5 a.m. Bloody hell.
"Professor McGonagall's accepting me to Hogwarts!"
"A'right… go back to sleep."
When he woke up again later in the morning, he sat up in bed as if struck by lightning and yelled out, "What in the name of Merlin's—"
"Dad."
"Holy shit!"