Harry sat in his arm chair, in the parlour, looking through one of his old picture books. His arm chair was in the corner of the room, closest to the fire. Harry curled up in the much too large chair every afternoon when his mother, father and brother would sit on the couch and read.
His mother would lean into his father, his arm wrapped around her shoulders and then his brother would sit upon their father's lap, holding the book open while their mother and father took turns reading aloud.
His mother was the most beautiful thing that Harry had ever seen; she had beautiful auburn hair that hung in long loose ringlets down her back. Her eyes were bright flashes of emerald. She was beauty personified and Harry felt the greatest connection to his mother when he looked at her eyes and recognised them as belonging to himself as well. She smiled warmly as she gazed upon Harry's brother and caressed that boy's soft blonde locks.
Harry's father was not really his father but he was all Harry had ever really known. He was handsome as far as Harry could tell but also frightening and intimidating to little five year old Harry. His father was tall and broad and his platinum blond locks brushed just past his shoulders. His flint grey eyes were the most frightening to little Harry. Every time the boy would look into those eyes he'd find a dispassionate disappointment that would make little Harry's heart clench painfully and threaten to allow tears to streak down his face. But little Harry knew, that if he allowed those tears to spill the dispassionate disappointment would turn terrifying instead of just heartbreaking.
Harry's gaze fell to his little brother, who looked exactly like their father except his hair was much shorter and his eyes were alive and expressive, and Harry could see every bit of his little brother's disregard for him. Harry's little brother felt that Harry was an intruder, Harry didn't belong and Harry knew that he was right.
Harry had few memories of his real father. He had none really, just a smell and a voice that whenever Harry replayed them in his mind or in his dreams brought forth such a feeling of safety and love, such that Harry had never truly known, not in Malfoy Manor at least.
Harry's mother, Lily had been married to his real father. But a few months before Harry had been born his mother had met Lucius Malfoy for the first time. The veela had found his mate, at last, in Lily Snape, a married woman; and Lily could not resist the veela and left her husband to join her mate. They had married before Harry's birth and when Harry was two weeks old his real father who had been seeking full-custody of the little boy had perished. Harry didn't know how, all he knew was the only man that had ever loved him as a son was no longer able to be in little Harry's life.
From the time of Harry's birth he began to slowly be shuttered out of his mother's life by Lucius Malfoy who wanted an heir for himself with his mate and saw no value in a 'past transgression' as he saw little Harry.
Harry had been merely one month old and held by his mother only a handful of times before she fell pregnant with Harry's little brother; Draco. From that point on Harry had been almost completely forgotten about. His care had been left up to maids; Harry was a burden and Draco was a gift.
Harry was always there however, a little shadow to the happy Malfoy family who tolerated him and spoke to him when necessary but otherwise ignored him completely.
Harry knew his mother loved him but he also intuitively knew that she did not understand how the intoxicating power of her veela husband was influencing her judgement. She was happy and so therefore believed all those around her to be happy also; and they were, apart from the little shadow.
Harry sighed softly as he listened to his parents entertaining Draco, they barely ever realised that he was in the room also.
It was currently winter, just ten days away from Christmas and the family parlour was tastefully decorated for the occasion.
Opposite from Harry's chair was a large bay window that overlooked the front gardens, Harry watched as the heavy grey clouds rolled in, and turned the early afternoon rather dark. Automatically the lights within the manor adjusted and casted more artificial light in the room. Harry sighed; he could hardly hear the voices of his parents as he became lost in his own melancholy.
"Little Master, dinner is being on the table." Harry was shaken out of his stupor by his own House-Elf. Harry had been given the House-Elf at this birth not through any kind of filial love or need to protect Harry but rather as another means instituted by Lucius Malfoy to further lessen the input required of his Lily in the raising of the 'past transgression.' Harry had thusly been bestowed his own House-Elf, his own maid and his own nanny; the last because Lucius did not want to have his own son wanting for anything and if the nanny had two children to run after then her care of Draco would not be so undivided.
Outside the window the sky had completely darkened and Harry could now only see a reflection of the room through the window. His family were long gone; he could tell by their echoing voices in his ears. He glanced up at the clock that rested upon the mantle above the fire-place; it was six-thirty.
"Thank you, Booty." Harry nodded and stood up, beginning the long trek to the family dining room. When he arrived the room was still empty and Harry went and stood behind his assigned chair; next to Draco, on the left side of the table, Draco sat on Lucius' left as Lucius was head of the table and their mother opposite Draco.
Lily arrived next with a tired smile. She was in the seventh month of her latest pregnancy and so tired very easily.
"Hello, Harry dear. Where have you been all day? I haven't seen you since breakfast." She said warmly, standing behind her own chair.
Harry knew he should have been hurt, but he also knew that no one ever noticed him in a room when there were others around to be noticed. It wasn't her fault that she hadn't seen him sitting opposite her in the family parlor all afternoon.
"Reading." The little boy said, rather subdued and his mother gave him an indulgent little smile.
"Oh my clever little boy, you're just like your dad you are." Suddenly Harry saw something in his mother's eyes that he only ever saw when she was looking at his face and Lucius or Draco was nowhere near. Harry in his limited vocabulary could only describe it as sad and pained and guilty but really it was more than that, an emotion that Harry had really no experience with; regret. She sighed and Harry could see a brightness in her eyes, like she was on the verge of tears, but the doors opened and Lucius Malfoy walked in with a little Draco trailing behind and just as suddenly as all those emotions had appeared they were gone and Lily Malfoy was once again on top of the world as she gazed upon her handsome husband and their beautiful little son.
Harry lay in his bed that night, just listening to the thunderstorm outside. Soon, it would be too cold for rain and the snow would start. Harry cuddled further into his bed as a flash of lightening streaked across his room. He couldn't help the lone tear that made its way down his little cheek and couldn't stop himself from wishing that his real father was still alive. Couldn't help wishing that the one person who had always loved him for the simple fact that he was alive was still able to love and protect him. Couldn't help wishing that his daddy would come back to him and take him somewhere far away where Harry would always be loved, accepted and acknowledged.
Lucius sat in the library, it was late, past midnight and the whole manor was asleep as the storm raged outside. He had research to do and had not had the time during the day, instead spending it with his wife and child. Lucius could not describe the contentment he felt with his wife and their son and their second child on the way. Lucius was simply happy. Life was perfect, well, almost perfect. Harry bloody Snape would not disappear. No matter how hard Lucius willed the burden away the boy was always just there. Luckily, however, the child was quiet and small and so really provided little hindrance to Lucius' happiness, as long as he himself continued to ignore the child so would Lily and Draco.
The storm's terror seemed to increase and Lucius felt a tendril of inexplicable fear creep into his heart. The books were now abandoned and Lucius sat still as the dead, listening for any out of place noise that would justify his sudden fear. It was absolutely quiet, the storm itself seemed to have suddenly stopped itself, as if it was waiting along with Lucius for the sudden oppressiveness of the atmosphere to make itself known.
And then suddenly, just as Lucius began to relax into the deep silence of his surroundings it all started up again, with one almighty bang. At first Lucius thought it was just the thunder but there was something decidedly wooden in the noise. Hooky, the Head House-Elf popped into the room then, his eyes wide.
"Master Malfoy sir! There be man at the door. He not saying anything! He very very scary!" The usually half-sensible creature was in absolute hysterics and Lucius sneered down at the little elf. But he said nothing and stormed out of the library, down stairs and halls before finally reaching the Entrance Hall. And then he stopped. The large Manor doors were thrown wide open and there was a tall, broad-shouldered dark figure standing on the threshold. He was absolutely sodden and he was incredibly imposing. Lucius, despite having a rather large stature himself could not help but feel small and the child-like terror was no longer just a tendril in his heart but an overwhelming tsunami that was threatening to overtake all his sensibilities.
With what small mental capability that the political magnate had left he took out his wand and pointed it at the intruder. "Who are you? Why are you here? And how did you get in?" Lucius yelled.
The man chuckled, it coming from somewhere deep in his belly.
"How did I get in? Well I walked in. Why am I here? Well I think perhaps once you realise who I am that question will be answered for you. And as for who I am, I would think that you would recognize your old friend. Your only 'real friend' I believe you once called me, but then of course you met my wife and you could never quite call me the same again could you?" The man's voice was sharp and accusing as he strode forward, heedless of Lucius' wand and stopped only a foot away from Lucius. The man was quite a bit taller than Lucius and leaned down so that his face was only an inch from Lucius'.
Lucius' breath caught, it was him. But he was dead. It was bloody dead Severus Snape, in his entrance hall of all places.
"B-but…how?" Was all Lucius could stutter out.
"My son!" Severus spat. "My son, calling out to me! He made a bloody wish on his magic!"
Lucius gasped. Making wishes on one's magic was nearly impossible and only made so in times of great distress and when one's magic could see no alternate route in setting one to rights once again.
"I-I-I why?" Lucius whispered, bemused.
Severus growled. "YOU! YOU! You did everything to make my son miserable. I would think that if not out of love for your wife that you would take care of her son at least out of some tendril of warm affection of friendship you had for me that you would see to the wellbeing of my son. But of course not! Because that's not what you want! That wouldn't benefit you at all! You blasted, selfish prick!" Severus was yelling in Lucius' face. He shot out with his right and painfully gripped Lucius' throat. "You're a bloody bastard. He's just a little boy. He wasn't threatening you damn precious family!
"He just wanted to be a part of it! A part of you, even though you don't deserve it he still wants to impress you and love you! You're the only father he knows! I thought, I thought I could bloody trust you." Severus' grip tightened. "You took my wife, but I forgave you because it wasn't your fault and I trusted you to be good to her and to my son and you abused my trust and my son." Severus slammed Lucius against the wall and Lucius scrabbled at Severus' grip on his throat trying to loosen it as he was losing valuable air.
"Please Severus…" Lucius gasped.
"Yes, please Lucius. Please take care of my son. Do you remember those words? Do you? Please Lucius, love him as your own, or at least as mine, as your nephew. And do you remember what you said?" At Lucius silence Severus growled again. "'Of course. Always, my brother. Anything you ask, anything, please don't die!' Do you remember saying that as I lay on the wet ground bleeding from every pore in my bloody body? Were you lying that day? Did I ever mean anything to you?" Severus' grip loosened, in order to allow Lucius to answer.
"Of course I did." Tears began to leak down Lucius' cheeks. "Of course I did." He whispered, reaching out with one hand to touch Severus' cheek as if trying to determine whether Severus was real or not. "You were my only family. Of course I meant it, I tried in the beginning Severus, truly I did! But it was too hard. He looks just like you and I can't stand it!" Lucius was crying.
Severus let go of his grip on Lucius' throat and pulled the man into a comforting hug. "Take care of my son Lucius. He is important, to me, to Lily and even to you, you're just too blinded to see that at the moment. It's time to move past your grief and allow my son to be something, to have a life, to be happy. He deserves that much and he deserves to see the love you have for him, even if you feel it weak to admit it, I know that it is there." Severus soothed, rubbing soft circles on the distraught man's back.
"I have to go back now Lucius. Please listen to me this time, look after my son before it's too late." Severus stepped back and with one last touch to Lucius' wet cheek, disappeared.
Harry woke up to a soft murmuring and a soft touch to his hair. Sitting on his bed was a dark haired and eyed man, and he was carding his hands through Harry's hair. Before Harry could panic he smelt that familiar comforting smell and he heard that voice that projected protectiveness and safety to the small boy.
"Dad…" The boy sighed.
"Yes, my son. It will be alright. I've made sure of it. Remember, I love you, always. If you ever need me again I will always come to you." Severus leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the confused little boy's forehead. "Always." He said again, before he was suddenly gone and Harry felt like crying. He'd had his dad with him, if only for a second but now he was gone and Harry wished that he would come back.
Before Harry could lose himself in overwhelming sadness he heard something that really was quite foreign in the Malfoy household, someone sobbing, despairingly. Harry crept out of bed and followed the loud echoing sound all the way downstairs and into the entrance hall.
There he found his father, on his knees crying his heart out with huge racking sobs. The Manor's doors were wide open and the floor was wet from the rain that had been pouring all night but had somehow abruptly stopped.
Harry crept closer. "Father…" He whispered. He had never seen his father expressing any kind of extreme emotion before and the boy was more than a little rattled.
Lucius seemed to hear the child through his howling and looked up, Harry jumped back at the deep despair he found on that face. The man's expression softened and he opened his arms, creeping forward slightly.
"Come here." He rasped. Harry obeyed, because he was taught to do so, but was more surprised than was really excusable when Lucius enfolded the boy into his arms and placed a kiss on the soft jet black hair. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry my little boy. I have been so wrong. But I love you, I promise you. It will be better." The man whispered in the little boy's hair and Harry couldn't stop himself from crying then. He'd never been told by this man that he loved him, and he'd never been held like this by a parent.
Harry felt so happy he couldn't breathe and he clung to Lucius with all his might, as if he let go Lucius would disappear completely. Harry couldn't believe that this was real but was more than happy to go along with it. Finally, Harry had something that he could treasure forever, love.