A/N: Wow. I'm posting this at 1 in the morning, but I wanted to get it out before school started for the week. Thank you as always for reading. Usual disclaimers apply.
Previously:
"Maybe if you hadn't abandoned my mum, she wouldn't be dead right now!" Harry shouted, playing his trump card. He smirked triumphantly as Snape's mouth snapped shut, his face an impassive mask. Without uttering another sound, Snape stood up and swept from the room, the audible slam of the door the only indication of his inward rage and sorrow.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Chapter Eight: In which a decision is reached
Harry calmed as soon as Snape left the ward. The man's mere presence had put him on edge. That calm immediately gave way to guilt: guilt at what he had said, guilt for being completely unreasonable. Then his anger at being called a small child throwing a tantrum came back. How dare Snape tell him that? Throughout his years at Hogwarts, Snape used every and any chance he got to belittle Harry, mocking his father – no, James – the man who gave his life so that Harry might live. Hell, James Potter wasn't even his biological father and he showed more love for Harry in that one moment than Snape had in four years.
His guilt washed over him again. No, that wasn't right. Even though Snape had been a complete bastard, he had still looked out for Harry, hadn't he? Snape had tried to counter Quirrell's curse on the Nimbus 2000 and then refereed the following game in case anything happened again. He had come to the Shrieking Shack to catch Sirius Black, mostly because he hated the man, but also to protect Harry. This past June… last June he went back into Voldemort's service, knowing that he could be killed at any moment should snake-face discover out his true allegiances. And it had been Snape to rescue him from the Dursley's cruelty, hadn't it? Snape had done what Dumbledore had neglected to do. The blood wards might have ensured Harry's "protection" from dark wizards, but they did little to combat the obvious ill will of Uncle Vernon. Snape had taken him away from that hellhole, hopefully for good.
No, Harry was throwing a tantrum, but what did Dumbledore think he was going to do, grab Snape's hand and go skipping through the Forbidden Forest together? Go brew a potion and discover his amazing latent brewing capabilities? Was he supposed to forget about Ron and Hermione and hang out with Malfoy and his goons in the dungeons? One discovery could not undo years of mockery and torment. Blood did not trump the hatred Snape had shown towards him.
Harry's emotions swirled and swirled, snowballing in his mind. Calm down! He told himself. Gods, get your emotions under control! What are you, five? But he could not control himself; the magic seemed to seep from his skin, affecting anything it touched. Even the windows began rattling and the glass threatened to shatter. His water glass rocked on the bedside table and Harry had the presence of mind to snatch it so it did not fall and smash to smithereens.
Suddenly, he remembered the warmth he had felt when Snape pulled him from the ledge. In that moment, he had felt safe for the first time in a long while. Is that what affection feels like from a parent? He thought, relishing the memory. The windows were quiet as he placed the glass back on the table. No. Snape may have been nice in that moment, but it probably wouldn't have been good for Dumbledore's savior to jump to his death. That wouldn't make for a clean front-page article for The Daily Prophet. Can he still feel love after all these years of tormenting defenseless students? Harry almost laughed at the thought. A picture of the man smiling widely (although he had no idea what he looked like when he smiled) and handing flowers and lollipops out to a group of Hufflepuff third year students in his potions class wormed into his mind. Harry really did laugh out loud at that point.
What was wrong with him? Why did he have to let his stupid prejudices cloud his judgment and blurt out whatever was on his mind? He had no self-control over his mind or his heart. Snape was right to call him arrogant, but Harry did not want to admit he was wrong to say those things. For once, he wanted to be a child, not an adult forced to face reality. He wanted to go back to that dream world and spend a lifetime with the two people who had died for him. He wanted to run far away from school, away from Voldemort, away from the father who clearly did not want him. Oh yes, Harry could easily see that Snape would rather have anyone else for a son. As if Snape wanted a cocky, attention-seeking, impertinent boy for a son, someone who thought the rules to be beneath him.
Even if Harry wanted to try and make amends with Snape, there was nothing he could do to change the older man's opinion of him. Snape was too set in his prejudices and it would take a miracle for him to see Harry as anything other than James Potter incarnate. Harry suddenly felt a pang of longing. Now, instead of just two dead parents, he could add a disappointed father to the list. Why was he always denied everything in life?
He envied Ron for having two living parents who saw him off to school every year, for having a mum that knitted him a jumper ever Christmas and cooked him large, homemade meals. Ron had siblings who joked and teased him, but looked out for him when he didn't realize it. Harry remembered the hug Molly Weasley had given him right there in that very ward: the first hug from a mother figure in living memory. Oh, he was sure that Lily had hugged him once upon a time, but his only memory of her was her being murdered by a psychopath.
Harry knew his next course of action. Even though it probably would not change anything, he would apologize the next moment he saw Snape. If Snape rejected his apology, well, at least he had done the proper thing. No one deserved to be blamed for the deaths of loved ones. Harry understood. He didn't blame Sirius for switching Secret Keepers with Peter, leading to the Potter's death by betrayal. Snape wasn't any more responsible for Lily's death than Sirius was. If Harry had forgiven Sirius, he could certainly forgive Snape, even if the man was a complete bastard at times.
White-hot pain interrupted his thoughts. Needles seemed to puncture every surface of his skin. Knives tore at his face, stabbing his eyes and nose and mouth. His blood boiled beneath the surface of his skin. His limbs were being torn off all at once. Somewhere, in the distance, a scream signaling the utmost pain could be heard. Through his own pain, Harry realized that he had to help that person; he had to save them from their suffering. Unfortunately, whoever that was would have to wait. Harry felt rather than saw the darkness swallow him and he knew no more.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
As soon as the door shut, Snape let out a strangled gasp, throwing out a hand against the wall to steady himself. How dare that brat accuse him of being responsible for Lily's death! He wanted to march right back into that ward and wring that arrogant boy's scrawny neck. That child had no idea how much Snape wished he could have traded places with her, to die in her stead. She had done nothing wrong except love a man who wasn't good for her.
Knowing that no one was likely to come across him (the only other people in the castle were Albus, Madam Pomfrey, and Filch), he slid down the wall of the corridor just outside the ward and hugged his knees to his chest, pretending he was 12 again and hiding in his closet from his father's wrath. It was his fault. He should have found another way to protect her. He should have made Albus swear to return his memories in case Lily had to go into hiding. He should have been the Secret Keeper. He should have taken Lily and his unborn child far away from England instead of agreeing to Albus' plan.
All of these new (well, old) memories tormented him both in his dreams and during the waking hours. The emotions felt both foreign and completely natural at the same time. Snape had loved Lily with everything he had, those memories proved that. Yet, he had spent the last fifteen years hating and mocking everyone he came across, except for Dumbledore. His mind knew that he had the capacity to love, but his heart didn't remember how, and no amount of memories could teach him that.
He looked at his hands. Thin, white scars riddled them, crisscrossing this way and that, reminders of his many potions accidents. A small burn at the base of his thumb stood out. For as long as he could remember, Snape had no recollection of how he got that burn. A scene played in his mind, unbidden. He had come across a 14 year old Lily in an unused classroom, brewing a potion they would not be studying until later that year. She had followed the directions perfectly, but for some reason the potion was not the correct consistency. Trying to help her out, he had touched the base of his thumb to the piping hot cauldron and burned it.
As soon as the memory had come, it fled. Snape pressed his hands to his eyes, willing the memory to return. He recalled Lily's soft hands holding the ice she had conjured to keep the burn from swelling, her sweet brows furrowed with concern at the simple mishap. Really, he had been careless and was distracted by her mesmerizing emerald eyes. It was his fault… just like her death. He had come full circle.
Why couldn't the child be more like her? She had been kind and compassionate, one of the gentlest humans he had ever known, but also fiercely loyal and unafraid to defend those she loved. He saw few of those qualities in her son, although Albus thought otherwise. Snape gave a short laugh. He saw the boy more often than Albus did, so how could he not have a more fully formed opinion?
Snape knew that he was harder on the boy than any other student, but there were a number of reasons for that, than main one being that he had appearances to keep up. He had to show favoritism to the precious children of the Dark Lord's slaves. Anything other than a blatant bias would raise suspicions. Besides, every other teacher seemed to think that the boy was above the rules, never giving him a proper punishment for constantly putting himself in danger. Snape merely compensated for their oversight.
His musings were cut short by a horrific scream of pain coming from the ward. There was only one patient in there. Snape leapt to his feet and charged through the door like a wild dragon. The sight that greeted him made him immediately forget the negative thoughts he had been thinking towards the child.
Harry was screaming like he was under the Cruciatus Curse, convulsing and clawing at his face as if that would relieve the pain. His skin seemed to be bubbling. Snape was at a loss for what to do. He had no idea what was going on and merely froze. Luckily, Madam Pomfrey had her wits about her and she immediately set to work. She took one look at Snape in his petrified state and barked at him.
"Why are you standing there like an incompetent first year? Help me hold him down so I can administer some pain-relieving potions!"
Her admonishment released him from his catatonic status and he practically leaped over to the bed. The flailing arms he tried to grab suddenly went limp and Snape realized that Harry had blacked out from the intensity of the pain. The nurse shoved a vial into his hand and left the area. Snape looked at it for a moment before realizing that the potion was most certainly not for him, but for the boy next to him. He cradled the boy's head in his arm and tipped the potion into his open mouth, massaging his neck to make him swallow. At that moment, Madam Pomfrey came into his sight followed by Albus who was looking at Harry with an unreadable expression.
"Well, I am indeed curious as to why the process sped up so quickly. I had thought the changes would happen slowly over the next week or so, not all at once." Albus now looked curiously at the child. "I assume that he has been administered a potion for the pain, Poppy?"
"Of course, headmaster," the nurse sounded highly affronted, as though Dumbledore had accused her of a treasonous crime. "It wouldn't do for him to be in that state of pain for any length of time. He should wake in a few hours. I imagine that the transformation back to his true appearance robbed him of most of the energy he had. Something must have catalyzed it, a strong emotion, most likely. The transition might not even be complete. He will be in a weakened state for a few days, a week at the most."
Snape realized that he hadn't properly looked at the boy when he rushed in. Now that he did, he thought he was looking into a distorted mirror.
"Don't you think, Severus?"
Snape drew his attention away from the figure lying prone on the hospital bed in time to hear the tail end of a question from Dumbledore.
"Forgive me, headmaster, my thoughts were elsewhere," Snape said, trying to cover his obvious fascination with his son's looks. He knew he had failed when he saw Dumbledore's eyes twinkling madly in his direction. Damn the old man and his ability to draw out emotions that Snape didn't want drawn out. He flushed, embarrassed, but that didn't stop him from sneering, "Any moment you are up to the task, Albus. I'm waiting for you to repeat your question."
"I said that young Harry is quite unrecognizable from his former state, don't you agree?" Dumbledore said, chuckling at Snape's expression. Really, the man should know by now that he need not try and hide his true emotions behind a mask. Dumbledore always saw through them. "When he is strong enough to move from bed, the three of us must speak together. I shall be in my office. Until then, try not to harass him too much, Severus. You do not need to antagonize the poor child." With that blasted twinkle in his eye, Dumbledore left the ward.
Madam Pomfrey returned to her office, leaving Snape alone with his son once more. His eyes took in the unfamiliar sight. The hair was definitely his: raven black and calmer than his former mess of hair, almost silky. High cheekbones that Snape had inherited from his own mother accentuated the now paler skin of the boy's face. The facial similarities stopped there, but it was enough that the boy looked remarkably similar to him. However, Snape could see Lily's arched nose and stubborn chin; he had no doubt that when the boy opened his eyes, Snape would once again see her eyes in his. The boy really was lucky, though. Snape had been gawky at 15, but his son's features were less angular and more delicate. Well, maybe he wouldn't appreciate it, wanting to look more 'manly,' but Snape felt an unfamiliar tug in his chest at the sight of his and Lily's features blended so perfectly in their son.
A spasm wracked the boy's body and his mouth open in a silent cry. Snape instinctively grabbed the hand that flailed out in his direction. He dropped it in the next second. What was he doing? Just because the boy looked like Lily did not mean he needed to become completely sentimental like a coddling Molly Weasley. A low moan escaped the body on the bed. As Snape looked on, the boy clamped his mouth shut, clearly refusing to let another sound pass through his lips. Was he… fighting the pain? Was he trying to bear his torturous change in complete silence?
Snape looked at Harry with something akin to a speck of respect in his eyes. He knew all about the silent acceptance of pain after playing lap dog to the Dark Lord for so many years. The twisted snake was very liberal in his administration of punishment for even the slightest offense. He threw the Cruciatus curse at his 'servants' more often than Longbottom screwed up something in class. A Death Eater learned very quickly that the Dark Lord delighted in hearing screams of suffering. The more one voiced his pain, the longer punishment he took. Silence bored the Dark Lord. To him, pain was a sign of weakness and the Dark Lord greatly dislikes weak followers.
This lesson was one that Snape had to be taught at a young age. Like the Dark Lord, Snape's father was quick to hand out punishment while his mother watched silently. If Snape yelled during a whipping, he received five more lashes; a scream under the Cruciatus resulted in a longer spell. Crying had also been severely punished. Snape could not recall the last time he had cried, in public or in private. It was as though all his tears had dried up with the scorching rage of his father's ruthlessness.
Snape had witnessed Harry's uncle abuse him physically. Had Harry learned the same life lessons that he had? He did not want to believe it, but Harry's reluctance to scream even now proved that something had been conditioned in him. Did Harry understand the importance of dignity even in pain and death? Snape was afraid to find out. If what he suspected was true, then he had seriously misjudged his son. However, one coincidental happenstance did not prove Snape wrong. Only time would tell. As Harry's body once again tensed in pain, Snape was surprised to find that he hoped that time would come soon.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Snape did not know how long he sat in the chair next to Harry's bed, but judging by the fact that the sun was just beginning to set, he had been there for quite a while. At some point during his vigil, he had grasped Harry's hand once again, but this time he had not let it go. Watching Harry fight the pain over and over again for the past several hours had given him time to reconsider his opinions on the child.
One thing was absolutely clear: Harry was not a child. Snape should have realized that as soon as Harry came back from his latest encounter with Voldemort clutching Diggory's dead body. Witnessing death changed a person permanently. Snape knew that Harry heard Potter and Lily's last moments when Dementors came near (Dumbledore and that mutt, Lupin, had told him more times than he cared to remember), but he had tossed that information aside with a sneer and continued to taunt Harry about his dead parents. Snape felt ashamed at that thought. How many times had he mocked James Potter to Harry's face, constantly reminding him that he was an orphan? God, he was such a bastard!
The sound of the door of the ward opening caused him to look up. Dumbledore walked towards him, pulling up a chair and sitting on the opposite side of the bed. He glanced down at Harry before turning to Snape with a serious expression.
"How are you, Severus." It was not a question.
"I'm such a fool, Albus," the words tumbled unbidden from his mouth, but he did not care. "I let my prejudices cloud my judgment; my hatred for James Potter cost me the opportunity to connect with my son. Why couldn't I see him for what he truly was? Has he always been this strong?"
"Severus, I think I can help calm your mind," Albus allowed himself to slouch against the back of the chair, looking more like his 150 years than ever.
"Is that so?" Snape said, scowling at the older man. "I don't think it's possible to salvage a relationship with someone who hates me. He blames me for Lily's death – he made that perfectly clear this morning. I blame myself for her death too. I do not think he will accept me. I have never given him any reason whatsoever to respect me. I used my position as a professor as a means to torment him. I took points and gave detentions unfairly and he never complained to another professor or to you. He flouted school rules and snuck around the castle at night, but what student doesn't do that at some point during their time here? I singled him out and never tried to learn his true nature. For god's sake, Albus, I tried to have him expelled on more than one occasion!"
"Severus, I am not saying that you are free from fault in this matter," Albus said, ending Snape's tirade. "I believe we both understand that you were the adult and should have been more mature when interacting with a child who had no power to fight back." Snape flinched at Dumbledore's blunt words, but made no effort to correct him. They were, after all, quite true. "However, Harry has demonstrated an unusual capability for attracting trouble. Most of that trouble he had little fault in, but some was do to his irresponsibility and disregard for the rules. I acknowledge that."
At this Snape looked up, his mind screaming his disbelief while his face remained a mask of indifference. The Headmaster had always defended the boy against his complaints, stubbornly refusing to find fault with the child. He had thought that Dumbledore was blinded by his affection for the boy who had defeated the Dark Lord for a time. This too had fueled Snape's loathing for Harry. Snape considered Dumbledore a sort of mentor (dare he say, father-figure) during the years of the Dark Lord's power and the years of peace that followed. When Harry came to Hogwarts and Dumbledore constantly overlooked his rule breaking, Snape felt betrayed.
"Have you always known this?" He sneered. Dumbledore suddenly looked sheepish.
"I have thought this for some time, yes," he admitted. "I also thought that if I admitted my thoughts to you, you would never see Harry for himself. I thought you would seek more ways to hurt him. Of course, an old man forgets how stubborn you can be, and your opinion of him was not the only reason for my turning a blind eye to his actions. I admit, that I felt guilty and responsible for what Harry had been through." When Snape didn't say anything, Dumbledore continued.
"While I didn't realize the extent of the hatred that Vernon Dursley felt towards the magic he could never understand, I was not so blind that I thought Harry would have a gloriously happy childhood. I knew there would be resentment; I knew that there would be love lost. However, I needed to ensure Harry's survival and give him a chance to grow up away from the fame that had to potential to create a monster. When he came to Hogwarts, I knew that something was amiss. I never imagined abuse, but I knew instinctively that Harry could not trust an adult because no adult had ever given him a reason to do so. How could I punish the boy for trying to solve problems on his own when it had been my fault that he acted in such a way? I have tried to justify my actions to myself many times, but even now my 'justifications' seem weak."
Hearing the most powerful wizard admit his fallibility is not an everyday occurrence. He could not fully understand the position Dumbledore had been in (and he certainly did not agree with his course of action), but he could see the difficult weight of guilt that rested on the older man's shoulders.
"I believe that I have been unfair in placing the blame entirely on you," Snape said quietly. "I have certainly not acted maturely these past years, especially where Harry was concerned. My behavior was certainly not your fault." Dumbledore merely looked at him and Snape continued, incredulous. "Surely you don't think you are responsible for my actions! That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
His voice had risen to a half shout. He snapped his mouth shut as a movement next to him drew his gaze. Harry was stirring on the bed. Snape was afraid that it was another accelerated growth spurt and made to get Poppy for another pain killing potion. However, Harry merely turned his head from side to side, his hands limp. Snape relaxed back into his chair. The two men sat in silence for some moments and Harry grew still once more. Dumbledore shifted in his chair and said:
"Severus, there is something else I must admit." Snape looked sharply at Dumbledore. "When we removed your memories, I did not realize the full extent of what your mind would suffer. When you first came to work at Hogwarts, I noticed a sharp difference in your temperament. At first, I thought that it was merely your facade should any faithful death eaters still be watching you. As you remember, we thought that Voldemort had managed to procure a spy amongst the staff. As time passed, I began to worry. Not even in the safety of my company did you let your mask slip, and it was then I knew that something was wrong.
I consulted my friend at St. Mungo's, Healer Daine Alexander. You remember her, I believe? She has tended to you on a number of occasions when Poppy could not. She has been one of my closest friends for many years, and I knew I could trust her with this secret. Do not worry. I revealed nothing of Lily. Once I told her that you were involved she only wanted to know the general circumstances, no names. I described what I had done, removing any private memories of Lily, James, and Narcissa Malfoy from your fourth year and onward. That in its self was extremely tricky, what if I had removed too much? Gaps in your memory would have been detrimental. All went well in that regard. You still remembered your public encounters with them, but all the secrets revolving around the four of you had been removed so as not to endanger anyone."
As you will remember, before you and Lily began to develop a deeper bond, you and James had been at odds, although your conflict was mostly with Sirius Black. James mostly went along because he thought himself in love with Lily. Once the four of you began working together to hide your respective relationships, James began to antagonize you more in public to protect you all. He also began to "date" Lily. That infamous event at the end of your fifth year was a result of Sirius Black's stupidity and desire to humiliate you. When James found out what Sirius had done, he was deeply afraid for you, knowing that you stood no chance against a fully-grown werewolf. By this point the two of you had become close friends. His friendship with Sirius took the rest of the year and all summer to heal."
Snape could remember all of this, but the memories were fuzzy, and he felt like his head was going to burst with all of his conflicting emotions. For the last sixteen years, he had hated James Potter to his very core, hating all that he represented. Now that he could remember the entire picture, his mind did not know how to process the information. He knew that he had been on good terms with James (as his mind now automatically referred to the man), but he could not remember what that felt like, the camaraderie, the fear of being exposed, but he delight at fooling the entire school.
"Now, consider the past sixteen years," Dumbledore was speaking again. "If you could not remember all of the secrets the four of you kept, and only knew what the rest of the school knew, what is the most logical way for you to act?"
"In my mind," Snape said slowly. "James continually attacked me without provocation. He saved me that night because he was trying to save his own skin. He stole Lily from me and I have loved her since I first laid eyes on her, although I didn't know it at the time. I thought James had stolen her."
"The gaps in your memories did not seem like gaps because it had been three years since school. You simply attributed it to trying to suppress the more horrible events of your school years. Your emotions," Dumbledore stopped to gather his fault. "Your emotional state is my fault, but how could I have known what would happen, the terrible thing I had done? Wiping out those memories of James, Lily, and Narcissa erased all of the memories you had of love. James had become like your brother, Narcissa a sister, and Lily – Lily loved you so passionately I wondered how people could not see it. She was the first person you had ever truly loved, and who loved you wholeheartedly in return that erasing her from your memory was the cruelest thing I have ever done. Your bitterness and caustic outlook formed because I took away everything that had made you happy. My only defense is that I did not realize it at the time. My only thought was to protect the two of you so you could be happy once this stupid war finished. It is my greatest regret that Lily died without you knowing what she was to you and that you have spent the last sixteen years in this state. I hope that someday, you can forgive me, but I'm not a fool enough to think that it will happen any time soon."
"Albus, I –"
"Please, do not say anything." Snape was shocked to see a tear running down the older man's cheek. "When you are ready we will talk about this. All I want you to know is this: I never wanted to see you in pain, and I do not believe that Harry blames you for Lily's death. I know that is what he told you, but you have to remember that he has gone through an enormous emotional upheaval these past days. If you give him the opportunity, he will apologize. He probably feels as lost and confused as you do. I intend to do my best to insure that you two can find family in one another, if it is what you both want. I hope that when this is all over, we can finally live in peace." Without making any motion to wipe his tears away, Dumbledore stood up and walked out of the ward, his feet slightly unsteady.
Snape put his head in his hands. In that moment, he made his decision. He would be civil towards Harry and offer him a home not because he was his son, but because Harry deserved the opportunity to have a family. Looking back over the boy's time at Hogwarts, Snape remembered his bravery and compassion, his steadfast loyalty and ambition to prove himself. Harry was more than the Boy-Who-Lived; he was truly Lily's son.
Harry stirred quietly once more, but Snape did not notice. He was too lost in his own thoughts.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Harry flew through the air, the wind whipping his hair, his eyes alight with the exhilaration that always comes when he mounts a broom. All of his troubles stayed on the ground, unable to compete with gravity. The sun beat down on him, warming him from the outside as his joy at being in the air warmed him from the inside out.
Suddenly, a bludger whipped by him, missing his head by scant inches. Where had that come from? He was the only one up here and no one was on the ground. Thinking he had simply imagined it, he did not notice it heading towards him again. This time, the crazy ball connected with the small of his back, successfully knocking him from his broom. He reached for his wand to somehow slow himself down. Pulling it from underneath his sleeve, he looked at it dumbly, realizing he had no idea what to do. Did Wingardium Leviosa work on a human? Did the size of an object matter, or whether or not it was alive? How long could such a spell hold him up, long enough to get him to the ground?
For some reason, he could not get his hand to move or his mouth to speak any words. Was this his untimely end? There were so many things he had never had a chance to do! What about Voldemort? Even though he was only fifteen, he felt a responsibility to help defeat that monster. With his death, he would be leaving others behind to face him, to possibly die by his hand.
He looked towards the ground coming closer and closer. How long had he been falling? These were weird thoughts to have before death. He could smell the grass now and closed his eyes to prepare for the impact that would leave him a broken corpse.
"OW!"
Harry opened his eyes and saw white. He rolled over and tried to sit up, but fell back, completely disoriented, and felt his head crack against a hard surface. His body ached all over, as though he were sore from a difficult work out, only it felt a hundred times worse than that. His muscles were lead, heavy and unmovable. Through the pain, he registered that everything about his body felt off. His limbs were too long, his body felt too thin, even his teeth seemed different. He opened his eyes once more and was surprised to find himself not on the quidditch pitch, not even on a bed in the hospital wing, but on the floor next to a bed in the hospital wing.
"I must have been dreaming." No, that was NOT his voice. What the hell was going on?
"Are you all right?" OK, something he knew, only different. That voice he recognized (how could he not, the man had never missed an opportunity to insult him the last four years), although it had never been directed towards him in such a tone. It sounded… anxious? Realizing that he was in an undignified heap on the floor in a hospital robe, Harry tried not to panic. Why did that man have to find him in such an embarrassing situation?
"I think so," he muttered, knowing he was blushing.
"Can you manage on your own?"
Harry finally looked towards the sound of the voice. There was Snape, sitting in a chair, a strange look on his face. Not wanting to suffer any more embarrassment, he shook his head and moved to get up from his position on the floor. Unfortunately, his body was not cooperating and he tumbled right back down, groaning as his body protested the movement. Arms hooked under his armpits and heaved him up and into the bed. Harry stared.
"Um, thanks," he murmured, cursing himself for sounding so pathetic. Then he noticed something strange. He reached up to adjust his glasses, but found nothing there. Frowning, he glanced towards the bedside table and found them sitting there. He reached out an arm that was paler than he remembered and grasped the glasses, fumbling them. Placing them on his face, he startled when his vision blurred beyond recognition.
"I do not believe you need those any longer," Snape said, unhelpfully.
"Excuse me?" Harry said in disbelief, pulling the glasses off his face. He fumbled them again. This was so strange. It was like he did not know how to move his body any more.
"If you will test my theory, I do not believe you need those glasses. Your vision has righted itself." Harry looked at him incredulously and then noticed that he could make out the features of the professor's face perfectly. He glanced around the room in awe as he took in the sights for the first time without the aid of eyewear.
"Everything is so clear, and so… white," he said the last word with a tinge of disgust. What did his body look like with this new vision? He held his hands up in front of his face, flipping them over and over again. Was it just his eyesight, or did his hands look different? His fingers seemed longer, more slender, and paler. For good measure he looked down at his legs. Those too were longer and paler, like he had had a growth spurt over night, but that was ridiculous. Perhaps this was the side effect of a potion that Madam Pomfrey had given him. Maybe he was going crazy.
"You are perfectly sane," Snape said and Harry realized that he had spoken his last thought out loud. "If you look at yourself in the mirror, you will find that you look very different now." Snape waved his waved and transfigured a pillow on the next bed over into a small mirror. Handing it to Harry, Snape had that strange look on his face again. Suddenly afraid, Harry looked at Snape rather than the mirror. Black eyes pierced his own and somehow Harry knew why his limbs were different and why he was paler. Taking a deep breath, he finally looked into the mirror.
"Hey, I'm not ugly!" the outburst shocked both men sitting in the room and Harry quickly blushed again. "I mean, I – erm. I just meant –"
"My nose is not genetic, so there was never any worry that you would inherit it."
Still blushing, Harry looked in the mirror again. It was an odd sensation. If he had not known that he was looking at himself, he would have hardly recognized the stranger staring back at him. Pale with high cheekbones, Harry was shocked that he did not have the angular face of the man sitting next to him. His features were softened. His nose had lengthened slightly and his hair – his hair was actually behaving! The only part that had not been changed was his eyes. Thankfully, the same almond shaped emerald green eyes looked back at him, only they carried a slightly haunted look.
"I look like a girl." He moaned, fingering the arch of his nose. The lack of weight from his glasses would take getting used to. "I look so feminine."
"You look like your mother." Harry stilled at the unexpected statement and then Snape smirked. "Thank god. And you do not look like a girl, as you so delicately put it. I can show you pictures if you like. Simply because you do not look like a Neanderthal anymore does not mean you look feminine. That hair of yours was absolutely atrocious."
"Hey, I liked my hair!" Harry said, on the verge of whining. "I didn't have to do anything to it. It never grew, never changed, it was just about the only consistent thing in my life." He paused, looking back and forth between the mirror and his father. "I look like you too."
"Yes, you have many of my facial features and my height, of course." Snape spoke quietly, as though he feared being overheard. His tone surprised Harry. Snape did not sound bitter or sarcastic, but genuine. He could not help staring at his father. "Is something the matter, Harry?" the name sounded foreign and slightly wrong on his tongue.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" he did not mean to ask the question, but he was dying to know. This change was too sudden, to insane. Not to mention Harry's deplorable behavior and words towards the man just this morning, was it even this morning? The days seemed too long. How long had he been here? He really should apologize, but how would Snape receive it?
Meanwhile, Snape tried to process Harry's question. He could not think how to answer it. Instinct seemed to be driving him to forge a relationship with his son, but he did not want to force himself on the boy. If this morning's conversation told him anything it was that the boy did not want him around, although this conversation had yet to take a turn for the worse.
Harry examined himself. If he were completely honest, he would admit that he wanted to see if he and Snape could find common ground, but he did not want the man to accept him out of obligation or pity. All he wanted was to be accepted for him, for just Harry. This conversation, while wonderfully light, had to be too good to be true. The fact that they had gone over five minutes without exchanging an insult was a miracle. Maybe there was hope, but Harry had a feeling that he needed to make the first move, but it was so hard.
"I'm sorry," Harry blurted out before Snape could gather his thoughts and form a sentence. "What I said was unfair and completely out of line. I understand if you hate me even more than you already do. If you really did love my mum there's no way you would have done anything to put her in more danger than she was already in. I know how that is – to see someone you love threatened. Also –" this was the most difficult thing for him to admit. "Also, if Professor Dumbledore trusts you, and I trust him, then I have no reason not to believe you. After all, if I cannot trust the headmaster, whom can I trust? And that's just what Voldemort wants, isn't it? For us to turn on each other in fear and doubt." He snapped his mouth shut, blushing, feeling he had overstepped his limit.
Snape, on the other hand, stared at him, mouth opening and closing as he tried and failed to come up with a suitable response. First, the boy apologizes. It should have been he, Severus Snape, that apologized for his atrocious behavior, not Harry.
"How old are you?" came out of Snape's mouth before his filter stopped it. He immediately fell silent, blushing as well. That was not the question he had meant to ask, but it was a fair one. How many 15 year old boys willingly admitted their faults to someone they did not see eye to eye with (although this is, perhaps, an understatement of their relationship)? In the past few minutes, Harry had sounded like he was 45, not 15. Well, if someone half his age could manage to say sorry, he could open his mighty mouth and apologize.
"I'm sorry, sir. What?" came the incredulous response.
"It is I who must apologize." Snape said, no trace of a sneer on his face. Harry gaped at him. "I was the adult in all of our encounters, and you the child. I gave you no reason to respect me, so your outburst was quite understandable."
"But that's not true! Sir," Harry added hastily, not wanting to seem rude. "You looked out for me – you saved me so many time. The stone, the quidditch match, when you thought Sirius was going to kill me, last June… this summer. Uncle Vernon would have killed me if you had not been there. I never thanked you for that. I was completely ungrateful. I'm sorry."
"I appreciate your… staunch defense of my behavior, but I do not deserve it," when Harry opened his mouth to object, Snape silenced him with a wave of his hand. "No, let me finish. While it is true that I tried to keep you alive, it was just that and only that. It was not out of any love I had for you. I did it grudgingly, against my will, only because the headmaster asked me. You have to understand that after he removed my memories, I lost – I lost part of my ability to feel those emotions that make us human: compassion, love, pity. Those seemed impossible for me."
"I know, sir."
"How could you possibly know that?" Snape tried to keep the sneer out of his voice, remembering that he was not there to belittle the child. He felt an instinct to both insult and hug the boy. It was a rather odd sensation. Harry, on the other hand, looked sheepish.
"I heard your conversation with Professor Dumbledore. I – I didn't mean to!" he added when Snape didn't say anything. "I just sort of, you know, woke up. I felt like I was in this strange limbo state. I didn't mean to intrude and I wasn't going to bring it up unless you did."
"I see."
"I'm sorry, sir. There I go again, sticking my nose were it doesn't belong. I'm sorry." The two sat in silence, Harry hunched over, Snape looking at him with an unreadable expression. Finally, Harry could not stand the silence any longer and said, "Please, sir, say something. I would rather hear you yell than this awful silence."
"Why would I yell at you?" The voice was simply curious, no hint of malice or mockery directed towards him. Harry looked shocked.
"What do you mean, sir? I did what I always do; I get involved in something that's none of my business. Although, for whatever reason, when I try to avoid trouble, it makes an extra effort to find me."
"I'm actually relieved."
"I know, I promise to – wait, what? Why?"
"Well, if you can use your short term memory to think back to just a minute ago, you will recall that I was about to explain to you what Professor Dumbledore had just explained to me. Why would I be mad at you for knowing something that I was going to tell you?"
"But what if you didn't want to tell me everything that Professor Dumbledore told you? You know? What if you only wanted to tell me part of it, because I'm just a stupid child who is too young to know anything important even when it concerns me." Harry's tone took a bitter turn.
Well, that was a reasonable question.
"I believe I understand your concern. However, I believe that in order for us to… properly understand one another, I must be open with you. I said I was relieved because I am rather unused, to say the least, to discussing my private life or, feelings." He ended lamely. Why was this so difficult? "For now, I will try and explain my feelings as I experienced them without my memories. As I was saying, I may have saved your life, as you so generously put it, but I know from personal experience how having someone you consider your enemy save your life does not endear you to them. In fact, for the time in which my memories were removed, I hated James Potter. His saving my life only made me hate him more. Most people would rather die than be humiliated by being indebted to someone they hate. That was how I felt."
"I think I understand, sir." Harry said slowly. "But I know that it wasn't really your fault. I mean, you could have been a little nicer, but you didn't have to save me and yeah," he rambled. Gods, he sounded stupid. "I mean to say, that I know at the time you did it because Professor Dumbledore asked you to, but you still did it, and I think you would have gladly done it had you been aware of our relationship. And I am truly grateful. I think the only reason I'm still alive right now is because of you and Professor Dumbledore and a lot of luck."
"I am going to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me," Snape said, knowing that once he spoke there would be no going back. "I don't want to you think of my "feelings" or think of what others would say or want you to do. You do not even have to answer me right now. I want this to your decision, and yours alone." Harry looked at him, confused but nodding his head for Snape to continue. The man took a deep breath.
"I would like to see if we can amend this relationship. I know that I have not acted like a human being for a very long time and it will be difficult, but I think you deserve to choose for yourself." He stopped to breath and Harry quickly spoke.
"Sir, you don't have to do this just because I'm – because I'm your son. I know I'm a handful and I don't want to be a burden." Even as Harry spoke these words, that longing for a family filled him again, but he shoved it aside. No one should have to sacrifice their happiness just for him. He did not deserve it.
"I'm not doing this strictly because you are my son." Harry suddenly felt a hope he had not known he could feel. "This is not an obligation on my part that I am grudgingly fulfilling. I am doing this freely. you deserve to have a family and I intend to give you that chance, but only if you want it. I am not the easiest person to love, anyone can tell you that, but I would be willing to try and make this work if it is what you want."
"But, sir! I don't want to force you into doing something that you might later regret. I –"
"Did you not listen to what I just said, Harry?" Snape said, and paused in case Harry freaked out again for using his name. "Harry, I want to get to know you, the real you. Not the little I have seen of you these last four years, but the person that Albus and Minerva and Lupin speak so highly of. Life has robbed you of basic things that most people take for granted and yet you have not given into it. You have pushed through it and become someone that your mother would be so proud of."
Harry sat in silence, thinking. Professor Snape's offer sounded so wonderful. This conversation showed that the man could be nice if given the chance, but what happened if the older man suddenly decided he did not want to raise an emotionally charged teenager? Could Harry go back to the way things were, an orphan? He recalled his mother's words to him.He is a good man, despite the mask he puts on for the world. You are his chance to live life fully again. Please at least try to get to know him before you pass judgment. He wants a son just as much as you want a father. What gave Harry the right to judge the man before he spent time discovering his true character? He felt ashamed that he thought the man would rescind his offer. The older man deserved this too; everyone had a right to family, even snarky Professor Snape.
"Sir, I think mum would be proud of you too." Harry said and then pushed on, inspired. "I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think I talked to her in my dream." Snape made to move forward but caught himself. His eyes were wide. "She told me to give you a chance and that she knows you would make a good father, and – and she passes her love on to you." Snape's eyes bugged out at this last confession. Maybe Harry should not have said that. No, he deserved to hear it, even if it was his mind playing tricks on him. "Do you think it was real, sir?"
"I would like to believe so," Snape said, his voice cracking with emotion. "Although, I do not know how we could prove it one way or the other."
"She also told me to ask you about Narcissa Malfoy. She said they were friends. Is that true?" He could not imagine his mother being friends with Malfoy's mother. The thought was just too crazy. Then again, he would have said the same thing about Professor Snape being his biological father and that was still true. Harry saw him turn white. "Sir, are you all right?"
"Forgive me, are you positive she said that her and Narcissa were friends?" Snape distinctly remembered that Harry had not seen the memory between him and Lily and Narcissa and James. He had specifically asked Dumbledore not to show it, thinking it was too personal at the time. Was it possible?
"Yes, sir, I am positive. She said to be careful what I said about the Malfoys because her and Narcissa were best friends and to ask you about her." Harry watched the professors face carefully, anxious to hear what he would say next.
"Yes," Snape whispered. "Your mother and Narcissa became very close during our school days." He was about to explain how she and James had fallen in love, but Harry interrupted:
"It was real! This proves it. How else could I have known to ask you about her?" Harry sounded hopeful, desperate even. "Please, sir. I know I'm not crazy. She felt so real, they both did." He remembered his mother's hug, her scent that smelled of lavender, a cross between the taste of fresh water and that feeling you get when you see a field untouched by human destruction.
"I believe you," Snape said loudly and then muttered again, "I believe you." The rest of his brain caught up with him. "Wait, you said 'they both did'?"
"Yes, my dad, er – James was there too." This conversation had taken a strange turn. "He said he was proud of me, even though I wasn't his son. I – I think he was giving me his blessing, telling me that it was OK to consider you my father… I'm sorry, sir. I'm rambling again."
"I believe that this brings us back to my original question, Harry. I will say again, you do not have to make up your mind right now. I understand that this is not an easy decision to make."
"I know that too, sir," Harry said nervously. "But I've made my decision. I don't need any more time, really." Taking a deep breath, Harry stated, "I want to give this a go. I think my mum and James were right. Both of us deserve to have a family. I want to see where this goes. Besides," he smirked, "I already look like you. I can't exactly go back to being Harry Potter. I don't want to live a lie. I just hope that you know what you are getting yourself into. Trouble is rather attracted to me for some reason."
The smile that spread across Snape's face was one that Harry would never forget.
A/N: There you go, a nice, long chapter. Next one should be up within two weeks although I have midterms this week, so it might be a little longer. Thank you for sticking with me!
