Bumblebee Blood

This one is definitely one of my favourites! I like the conflict in this one, which I imagine is about to become very interesting indeed. Thanks to my friend Impy who gave me the advice on how to end this chapter - I was really struggling! ~ SS19

Chapter Ten:

"Your most esteemed Professor-Headship." Peeves the poltergeist practically catapulted into Albus' office, startling and thus affronting Fawkes who squawked and took off from his perch. Albus, sat in his armchair by the fire, turned tired eyes to Peeves. "Peeves."

"Snivellus is back in his office!" Peeves sang delightedly, "Snivellus and his…"

Albus cut him off with a glare, "Enough, Peeves. Go and wreak havoc elsewhere."

Being a poltergeist, Peeves did not understand sarcasm and took this to be a literal command, taking off again and disappearing through the wall. Albus stood a moment later, picking up the box from his desk. Fawkes cawed at him, and he glanced in the phoenix's direction, "Do not tell me to calm down, Fawkes. If he has gone where I think he has been, then I have every right to be angry."

"How dare you?"

The voice made Severus jump and whirl, as if he had been caught doing something he should not have been. Blood spurted from his leg once again and he growled something in Albus' direction, angry at the interruption and the disturbance. "Leave me alone."

Albus did not seem to be in a particularly accommodating mood, "I do not know why I bother with you, sometimes, Severus." His voice was shaking slightly, angry beyond belief, staring at Severus who was attempting to bind the wound in his thigh. "You continually push me over and past my boundaries - you always find a way to cross the line."

"Do not lecture me, Dumbledore." Severus spat in response, "I have no desire to speak with you."

"That's a shame Severus, because we are having this conversation, whether you have the desire to or not." Albus answered.

"I do not wish to speak to you!" Severus shouted, putting his leg down and wincing as weight fell on the injury. He stormed off in the direction of his bedroom, but Albus simply raised a hand and the door slammed shut before Severus could reach it. Severus, having done too much, too quickly, staggered and fell against the wall, eyes closed as he pressed one hand to his thigh. "Please, Headmaster - leave me be."

"I can't." Albus breathed, "I can't let you do this any more."

"Do what?" Severus raised his head, "My duty? My job? Nothing has changed."

"Everything has changed!" Albus took a step forward, slightly alarmed when Severus flinched away, "Severus, this is just as hard for me to accept as it is for you, and I wish you would - "

"Accept what?" Severus interrupted, "That you and I happen to be related? That you gave me away? Someone is playing a very sick practical joke on you, Dumbledore. Look at me, and look at you - there's your truth. Even if it was true, it wouldn't make you my father - I already have one of those."

"Your mother told me that you and he hardly speak." Albus murmured, and Severus glared at him, "Interrogating her on her death bed, were you?"

Startled at the venom in those words, Albus winced, "You know that is not true. I found out when I went to St Mungo's. The only person who would know your true identity would be your mother. She told me that you were adopted - she had a stillborn child - they gave her you, as I asked, to keep you safe…"

"Fine job that did." Severus responded, and Albus looked at him, "Pardon? What does that mean?"

Severus turned away, "I don't believe you."

"Severus! Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I wanted our whole relationship - more than that - our whole world - to be changed? I didn't ask for this!" Albus folded his arms, returning to the initial conversation, "I asked you not to go to Voldemort."

"What was I supposed to do instead, Headmaster? Go to my room, like a good little boy? Risk detection? If he finds out what I am, he will destroy me. I think that my life is inconsequential compared to the fate of the Wizarding World."

"…Not to me. Not anymore." Albus whispered.

Severus turned to face him. "What?"

"Severus - don't you see? This changes everything! How can I possibly send you to Voldemort now, knowing what you are! You are my child!"

"It was fine for you to send me to him last week - just because you have found out that the blood the Dark Lord spills is yours - that suddenly makes what he does to me wrong?" Severus shook his head, "Your morals in this are wrong."

Albus wandered to Severus' desk and tentatively rearranged the documents there, making sure they were straight, "I know. I've been telling myself the same things and it hurts, Severus. No one should treat you the way you are treated by me, and please do not think I have not felt guilty before. But now I have an excuse, Severus - I have an excuse, a reason to make sure you do not have to face him again - you are my child, and that means I do not want you to leave this castle."

"So the fact that you profess to love me was not enough of a reason before?" Severus murmured.

Hurt, Albus looked up, "Do not use my feelings for you as a weapon, Severus - that is unfair."

"You, Albus Dumbledore, are a mass of paradoxes. You tell me you love me, and then you would still send me to the Dark Lord. You tell me now that I am your son, and I am not allowed to leave the castle - even though the war has turned more deadly and I am the only person who can help to stop him - do you think I will believe you are being unselfish? You, Dumbledore, are the most selfish man I have met - you would sacrifice the end of this war just so the guilt of what you do to me will be relieved - yet you needed a title to be able to confirm that." Severus' voice had remained perfectly steady and controlled, as if he was reciting ingredients for a simple potion to a class. "You are correct. My father and I do not get on. He took pride in making my childhood a living hell - but he is still my father - and nothing will change that. Not even the word of my mother, something she was never able to tell me." Severus looked down at his leg, "I think you should leave, now."

Albus nodded. "Very well." He paused. "I brought you these. For the first few years, I wrote letters for him on his birthday, Christmas, that sort of thing. I never imagined I would be able to deliver them. They might be worth reading." He placed the box down on the desk and started for the door. Severus was still staring at his leg. Albus paused before leaving, "Don't go to Voldemort in such a state again. I thought I wouldn't see you again. That is what I am most afraid of, Severus. If you do not believe me, ask my Boggart. Good night."

Severus watched the door close and let out a long sigh, slumping against the wall and resting his head in his hands. This was not good. He hated this - was hating every moment of it. He groaned and limped over to his armchair, wondering how deep the injury was and contemplating sending for Poppy. Sitting down did make it feel easier. He wasn't exactly sure how he was feeling, anyway. He expected to be emotional - he had wanted to shout and scream at Dumbledore - but instead, he had felt empty and tired and numb. He didn't want to have to deal with this, and perhaps if he ignored it, it would go away. The whole thing - Albus, his paternity, the memories of his own father - he wished he could turn back the clock, wished he had never given that list to Albus, wished Albus had not spoken to him at all. He was not Albus' son - he couldn't be - he scratched a mark on the armchair distractedly. Albus had always said he thought they were connected beyond just a mutual enemy. Was it really just last week when they had been picnicking together out in the Hogwarts grounds? Laughing and joking and mock insulting? Where was that now?

He raised his head and looked at the box on the table. He really did not want to read them. So why did they seem so tempting? He turned his head defiantly away - yet it was as if the letters were whispering to him. Letter for a child Albus had never known. Severus had to admit - he was curious. Why had Albus decided to write letters to a child he, by all intents and purposes, wanted to forget about?

Curiosity did, after all, kill the cat. He summoned the box with his wand and pulled off the lid.