Child of the Dark Moon

by Sw-0608

Fleeing from Dudley and the 'Harry-hunters' under a full moon, Harry Potter saves his hated cousin from a giant wolf and is nearly killed. Severus Snape comes upon the bloody body not ten minutes later and takes the child into his home, against his better judgment. Can Snape come to terms with the vulnerable boy and help him to adapt to being a werewolf? (Manipulative Dumbledore)

38. Chapter 38: Family

Rated T

(Disclaimer: don't own, never will, don't plan to. Just doing it for fun.)

HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP

Chapter 38: Family

He swam up from the clouds of dreams and memories into a world that was too bright and too quiet. His body ached, especially his head, and he thought he had heard things from the world above over the last few days … or however long he had been out. Harry's voice … his son's voice. The Wolf, reading aloud to him from a boring treatise on bond-creation he had actually read before. The Dog, nattering on about nonsensical things. Poppy, murmuring pleasantries and gossip in a soothing voice. Minerva, telling him a thousand and one reasons he needed to wake up.

He pried his eyes open, and squinted in the light as it stabbed his brain. He felt as if he had the world's worst hangover, and his stomach cramped with hunger. He could tell that he'd had a nutrient potion spelled into him recently, but it was no substitute for solid food, which he was craving. Had Harry been here with him? Or had that been a dream? He could remember … everything, really. It was odd, having an intact brain for the first time in over ten years.

Slowly, Severus woke up, and managed to open his eyes a bit more over the next several minutes until he was blinking up at the familiar white ceiling of Hogwarts' Infirmary. He groaned softly, wondering how he had gotten out of the mess that was Dumbledore's insanity, and made it here. Not that he was ungrateful, but he truly hated the Infirmary. He heard footsteps rapidly approaching; the soft clicks of Poppy's light shoes. He turned his head in the direction where the sound was coming from, hating how his neck muscles protested the movement, and his headache worsened for a few seconds. He pressed his eyes shut briefly, and when he opened them, he was looking up at Poppy, who was staring down at him in sad concern.

The shock on her face as his eyes opened made Severus' mouth twitch in a tiny smirk. Did she expect him to stay unconscious forever? Well, he made a living out of being unpredictable.

"Severus!" Poppy gasped, her free hand flying to her chest and her wand hand snapping up to run diagnostics. "You're awake! I thought I heard you, but …"

"Ha … rry?" Severus croaked, and then frowned at how his voice broke.

"He was here earlier," Poppy assured him with a smile. "He'll be back soon, I promise."

Severus took a deep breath, and then his stomach chose that moment to snarl at the world. His scowled, daring the mediwitch to laugh, but she had the presence of mind to press her lips together, and just laugh at him with her eyes.

"I'll have something brought up for you. How are you feeling?"

"Thir … sty," Severus rasped, and coughed shortly. Poppy helped him drink a glass of water, and then hurried off to call an elf somewhere Severus couldn't hear her. He scowled, knowing she would probably call for clear broth or plain porridge. Dratted nurse.

He glanced around without moving his head, noting the curtains that had been drawn back so he could see more of the Hospital Wing. On his bedside table, a pile of books teetered, along with a child's drawing, which leaned against the books so he could see it. Wincing slightly at his stiff neck, Severus turned so he could see it better.

Inexpertly drawn and colorful, it depicted a tall, black stick figure with strings of black hair, holding the hand of a small, cheerfully colorful stick figure with an afro of black scribbles on its lopsided head. Both figures had big smiles, and a falling-down house sat in the background, along with a crooked dog, a crooked cat, and a brown dog with pointy ears that was undoubtedly a wolf. The picture was labeled "My Famly, by Harry".

Severus stared at it for several minutes, suddenly feeling a coiling of dread in his stomach. Had the Dog or Wolf told Harry what their relationship was? It seemed like a gross infringement on his parental rights, but then, what rights did Severus have? He was a rapist and kidnapper. He had no right to privacy. He sighed and tore his eyes away from the innocent boy's drawing, and tested his muscles, attempting to stretch.

Poppy hurried back to his bedside, scolded him for squirming around, and ignored his indignant protests to the contrary.

"I know you Severus," she tutted. "And while I don't blame you, I think know you ought to be careful. You've been flat on your back for nigh on a week now, so let me run some spells through your system to loosen your muscles again."

Severus huffed, but submitted. He knew how it was done, though he'd never experienced it himself. The sensation was strange, but not too uncomfortable. His muscles loosened, and then stretched without him intentionally moving. But when Poppy lifted her wand and nodded at him, he found that he was able to sit up, and his neck didn't hurt any more. He just felt rather tired. The idea of lying here was an appealing one, even though he was itching to see Harry again. His memories felt fuzzy on the edges, but focusing on them brought them back into sharp clarity. The last time he had seen Harry had been at the Weasleys' house. Had it really been that long?

"How long was I out this time?" Severus asked slowly, staring down at his hands and frowning at the sight of his nails, which probably needed trimming soon. He shook his head free of the distracting thoughts and let his gaze wander away. Sitting on the closest bed was a stuffed lion toy, likely Harry's. Severus sneered at the sight of it, and determined to get the boy some different toys when things were … arranged. Or fixed. Or explained. He wasn't really sure what would be the best approach to informing Harry of his true parentage.

"You were out for several days," Poppy replied. "Close to a week. I was considering calling in expert help; you weren't waking up or responding to anything I did."

"I simply needed some time, I suppose," Severus huffed, disturbed at the thought of other magical healers poking and prodding him. He trusted Poppy, but precious few others. It was part of the reason he had taken the medi-wizard course for himself; physician heal thyself, and all that. Plus, being a Potions-Master meant he already had a leg up on the testing material.

"I am glad to see you up and your normal self," Poppy murmured, smiling at him with tears in her eyes. "How are you feeling? Truly?"

"Stop getting all sentimental; I'm perfectly well and my mind is my own once again," Severus snorted at her, though it was laced with subtle fondness. He knew she cared deeply about him, and now that it seemed like the drama was over for now, perhaps he could tell her the whole story.

"I hoped you would be able to reorganize what Dumbledore meddled with," the mediwitch sniffed. "To be honest, I didn't have a doubt that you would wake again, healed and in full possession of your rightful memories."

Severus fought the urge to shrug. He was grateful for her faith in him, because even he had lost faith in himself during his long battle against the destruction Dumbledore had wrought in his mind. "Where is the meddling fool anyway?" he asked idly. "Since Harry has been around so much lately, I would guess that he's not in the picture?"

"Albus is gone," Poppy answered quietly.

Severus looked up at her and narrowed his eyes. "Gone as in dead? Or gone as in … gone?"

"Disappeared," the mediwitch clarified. "His body was not found."

Severus raised an eyebrow. Body? Had Lupin, Black, and McGonegall engaged the Headmaster in a duel? How in the world had that ended?

"Remus said that Albus brought the manor down on his head and nearly killed Sirius, who was looking for Harry at the time," Poppy explained. "But the house elf had already apparated Harry and you outside the house's wards by then."

"Me?" Severus repeated in surprise. "Dumbledore's house elf saved me from being buried alive?"

"The elf saved Harry," Poppy corrected him. "The boy wouldn't let go of you, so you went along for the ride."

The Wizard was silent for several minutes. "You need to start at the beginning. I remember … the memories hitting me. Then nothing."

"Well, I can call Black to give you more details," the nurse suggested cautiously. "Remus and Minerva took Harry … but they should be back soon."

Severus looked up at her sharply. "Where did they take him?" he demanded. "Why?"

Poppy made a calming motion with her hands. "They're at Longbottom Estate," she explained, though she watched him warily. Severus eyed her with distrust, knowing that she only gave him that look if she was afraid of him trying something. "We had no idea if you would wake up anytime soon," she said slowly, in a reasonable tone that made Severus eye her with even more suspicion. "I was actually in the middle of getting you checked into St. Mungo's, so some specialists could look into your condition, and we couldn't let Harry stay here without you, or stay in your hospital room without adequate supervision and protection. So Minerva has been quietly looking around for somewhere for Harry to stay."

Severus clenched his fists in his lap in anger. He understood he reasoning, but it still cut to his heart, and he fixed her with his harshest glare. "You were going to give my son to that harpy?" he hissed.

"Calm down, Severus," Poppy scolded him, unmoved by his scowling. "As I recall, you didn't think the idea of Harry staying with Augusta and Neville was a bad one before you found out he was your son."

Severus scowled even more angrily, but he didn't have a good argument against that. He sighed and leaned back against his pillows, reaching up to massage his aching head. "I would appreciate a headache draught," he suddenly announced. "My skull is going to split open."

"Oh, of course!" Poppy exclaimed, pushing a bottle into his hand at once. She must have had it in her pocket.

Severus absently popped the cork off, sniffed it as was his habit, and downed the spicy brew in one gulp. A few seconds later, the pounding pain in his head receded quite a bit. He recognized it as one he'd brewed himself, so he nodded in satisfaction.

Poppy took that as thanks, and took the empty bottle and cork from him. He scowled down at the Infirmary blanket, weighing the merits of waiting until Minerva and the Wolf returned from their business at Longbottom Manor, (hopefully with Harry still in tow; if he wasn't, he was probably going to kill them both) or allowing the insufferable dog-father to come and regale him with exaggerated tales of his personal prowess. There wasn't much of a choice. Severus was not typically a patient person. He could be patient if he needed to, but right now, he really didn't want to be. If Albus had been defeated, what else had he missed while he was fighting his own battle inside his mind?

"Fine," Severus muttered under his breath.

"Beg pardon?" the nurse asked, peering at him. "I didn't catch that, Severus."

"I said fine; I'll talk to the Dog."

Poppy smiled secretively and nodded before she swept away, just as a Hogwarts elf appeared with a tray of food. Severus sighed in resignation at the gruel she had ordered for him, and the cup of tea. At least there was a plate of toast too. Maybe if his stomach was growling again in an hour, she would let him eat something more solid.

HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP

A black dog bounded into the Infirmary, nails skidding across the stone floor and heavy canine pants filling the air. Severus gave the animagus a cold, disapproving frown, and Black materialized out of the creature, grinning like a madman. His hair was windblown and messy, and he was still breathing hard. Had he really run all the way from wherever Poppy had summoned him from?

"Hey, Snapey, you're up!" Black cheered, sauntering over and sitting on the edge of the bed as if they were old pals. "Never thought you'd ever finish that nap of yours? Feel better now?"

"You are as insufferable as ever," Severus grumbled, moodily stirring his watery porridge. He had yet to take a bite, though he'd finished his toast and tea already. He hated porridge.

"Nice to see you're feeling normal again," Black snorted, reaching out to give his leg a swat under the cover. Severus narrowed his eyes in warning, but the other man just rolled his eyes. "Come off it, Snape; stop being such a baby. You know you're glad you survived, and I'll admit it: I'm glad you're not dead too."

"I cannot imagine why you would be," Severus muttered, giving up on his gruel and dropping the spoon. "Do get off my bed," he ordered.

Black snorted, but he obeyed, pulling the bedside chair closer and plopping into it instead, sprawling over it before he grumbled and got up, then snatched a very familiar wand from the table and transfigured the chair into something more comfortable. A wince crossed his face as he did so, and Severus was not certain whether to be furious, horrified, or simply baffled. Why in the world was Sirius Black using his wand? For that matter, how did it possibly work for him?

Black tossed the wand on the bed instead of back on the nightstand, and grinned unabashedly at Snape before he settled in the new chair with a loud sigh of contentment. "Thanks for the loan, by the way," he grinned on like a mad skull. "Can't say your wand likes me very much, but it works grudgingly; a lot like you, wouldn't you say?"

Severus couldn't believe the nerve of the man. "I'm not awake a full hour and you're tormenting me already," he snapped, grabbing his wand and examining it briefly before placing it on his tray, beside his uneaten porridge. Black hadn't done anything to it, thankfully. But he could feel the relief in his magic, and almost in the wand itself, from being in his hand once again.

"Not tormenting; teasing," Black corrected him seriously. "There's a difference, Snapey."

"Call me that one more time," Severus said almost pleasantly. He leveled his wand almost casually at Black's head. "And I might see how many of my school-day curses I can remember before you manage to get out of my line of sight."

Black groaned theatrically and slumped in his chair. "You are such a buzzkill," he moaned, throwing his head back dramatically. "Fine; but only because Harry likes us both so much. I won't start a fight."

"You mean, because you have no wand to defend yourself with?" Severus smirked victoriously.

"Naw, because I don't want to strain the invalid with Miss Mama Bear in the next room."

"I do not understand how Lupin puts up with you."

"Yeah? When you do, tell me the secret. I'd like to know too."

Severus shook his head in disbelief. "Do you ever stop trying to be clever, Mr. Black?"

Black gave him a cunning look. "As long as I've got a Ravenclaw wannabe and the Head of Slytherin as my immediate comrades? No. Plus, I've got to be able to keep up with Harry. That kid's as sharp as anything."

"He should be, considering his parentage," Severus replied almost without thinking. Silence fell over the both of them. Snape kept his eyes away from Black, almost fearing the look on his face. Black said nothing, but Severus could feel the other man's eyes on him, assessing, analyzing, and judging.

"You're mind's back to … normal?" Black asked suddenly, and not with the teasing tone from before. He sounded serious at last.

"My mind is my own," Severus confirmed shortly, picking up his spoon to run it through the cold porridge again, mostly just to give his hands something to do.

"That's … good," Black said carefully. "More than good, actually; that's great. So … I wanted to ask you a question."

"Interesting," Severus said sarcastically, glancing up at Black through the curtain of his greasy hair. "But why should I care what you want to do?"

"You are such a dick sometimes," Black snorted. "Okay, so I've been wondering: am I Harry's godfather, or not? I mean, when I thought … well, when we all thought Harry's parents were … well … different, I got asked to be his godfather. But … if James was the one who …"

"Stop," Severus interrupted him, lifting his head and dropping his spoon again. "The elder Mr. Potter quietly adopted Harry, making certain that any magical records of the boy's paternity happened to be in his name. I was involved with the process, since my willingness made things easier, at least from a legal point of view. For all intents and purposes, Potter had every right to make you godfather to … his son."

"Oh good," Black grinned, the relief in his eyes almost enough to make Severus roll his eyes. "So James knew about what happened, and he magically adopted Harry on the sly … but that sounds weirdly like he was protecting you."

"I became a spy for the Order of the Phoenix a month after … the event. L-Lily convinced him that my remorse was genuine, and facilitated a truce between us. That is why I was allowed to see Harry a few times throughout his infancy, and Potter did not throw a fit about it."

"Oh." Black blinked. "Wow. I thought … well, I guess I shouldn't be trusting anything Dumbledore said."

"I would presume to agree with that statement."

"Oh wow, call the Prophet! Snape just agreed with me!"

"Don't make a headline out of it," Severus retorted, rolling his eyes. Somehow, even though he still despised Black and would never truly be his friend … probably … he was enjoying this strange verbal banter.

"I'm just wondering why James never told us about it," Black mused. "I mean, we were best friends and all … I know we were getting a little suspicious of Remus at that time, and Pettigrew was always off doing his own traitorous things … not that we knew that at the time. But I just don't understand why he didn't tell me about … you, and Lily, and Harry; and you switching sides and being a spy."

"I did not trust any of you," Severus said flatly. "Potter did not believe that any one of his bosom buddies could be a spy for the Dark Lord, but I convinced him that if he told one, he may tell the others, and we already suspected one of the inner circle of being a traitor."

"I wish you'd stop calling him that," Black complained.

"The Dark Lord?"

"Yeah."

"Why ever not?" Severus snapped, gripping his tray as if in preparation to throw it across the room. Actually, he wouldn't mind doing so. This gruel was simply vile. "You know who I'm talking about, and I cannot say his name. What difference does it make what I call him? He is dead in any case."

"It legitimizes him," Black reasoned, his voice surprisingly calm. "He was no lord of anything, dark or whatever. Calling him one just give him power he never had, really. And it really does make a difference what you call him. Names are important."

"How would you know?"

"Look … don't get mad at me for this, okay? It's just an example and I know I was wrong. But alright, let's see like cruel names, like when we used to call you Snivellus."

Severus' jaw clenched, but he reigned in his fury and simply narrowed his eyes at Black, who put up his hands to show that he wasn't done, and did not want to be attacked for this.

"Hey, hey; hear me out! We were cruel when we invented that name, and called you it over and over until other kids started calling you that. We thought it was a big old joke, of course; 'cause we were just a bunch of immature kids. But it made you angry, it dehumanized you in the eyes of anybody who thought of you like that, and it made you lose respect among those who might have respected you purely out of human decency, y'know? Names are important. They've got power. If there's one good thing Dumbledore taught us in the Order of the Phoenix, it's that we had to call evil what it was, and not call things what they weren't. So we called Voldemort, Voldemort. None of this You-Know-Who or Dark Lord garbage. We weren't scared of his name, and we didn't give him the respect he demanded either."

"I understand your reasoning," Severus interrupted impatiently. "But I have heard this speech twice over from the old meddler himself. I do not need you to lecture me, Black."

"So why do you keep calling him Dark Lord?" Black scoffed, folding his arms tightly. "You sound like a Death Eater when you call him that, you know."

"Perhaps that is because I was a Death Eater!" Severus shouted, throwing his tray off the bed in a burst of anger and shame. With trembling hands, he jerked up the sleeve of his hospital shirt and held his bare forearm out to Black. "Say his name," he hissed. "And watch my mark."

The mark was faded, almost invisible. But it was there, barely visible as a faint shadow under his skin. Black stared at the white underside of Snape's forearm in baffled amusement, but he obeyed with a shrug.

"Voldemort."

Severus flinched, as he had the other times Black had said the hated name, and he knew from Black's gasp that he had seen it too. For the briefest of instants, the mark had become slightly darker, and Severus' flinch had been unmistakable. Back when the mark was completely visible, the snake had moved on his skin when the name was spoken it its presence. The pain had been much, much worse. Now, it was a stinging reprimand, like a slight burn or a bad static shock. But he could feel it move still, under his skin, lurking and waiting to be called forth again. Severus didn't know how he knew that's what the mark was doing, but he would stake a rather large bet upon it.

"Does it hurt?" Black asked in a hushed voice. The concern and horror in his eyes was too much, and Severus uncomfortably yanked his sleeve back down, and fixed his eyes on the mess he'd made on the floor.

"It … is uncomfortable," Severus admitted. "When … he … was alive, it was very painful. Now, it is simply a reminder."

"Reminder for what?"

"That his name is not worthy to be spoken by his loyal servants," Severus hissed, still refusing to look at Black, though he could tell that the man could understand better now, and was thinking about it. "It was conditioned into us. We were drilled, again and again. To speak his name was to invite torture. We learned quickly, and simply hearing the name spoken would cause agony."

"Y'know …" Black murmured thoughtfully. "Pettigrew stopped saying his name at some point. It was back to You-Know-Who for him. He said he was just scared, or some such bull. But now … I guess it had been tortured out of him."

"Was Pettigrew an animagus?" Severus suddenly demanded, welcoming a change of subject.

"Hmm?" Black came out of his musings, and Severus turned to look at him. "Oh … yeah, Pete was a rat. Funny. His personality even as a teenager was a clue to who he really was. It is kind of funny, don't you think? The rat turned out to be both a literal and figurative rat in the end."

Severus frowned, and rubbed his chin as he cast back through his memories, wondering why in the world a rat would raise alarm bells in his mind. "Would you …?" Severus began slowly. "Would you be able to recognize his animagus form on sight?"

"Of course," Black snorted derisively. "I spent years and years of Full Moons with him; me and Moony both. And I've dreamed of little else since I got put in Azkaban."

Severys nodded again, and closed his eyes. He saw a rat in a shabby bathroom, terrified eyes too expressive for an animal, the strange feeling of missing something important …

"White rat," Severus murmured, keeping his eyes closed and the strange fat rat in his mind's eye. "A white rat with a gray nose, and … a maimed paw." His eyes snapped open. "Black?"

The man was white in the face, but his eyes were ablaze with a fire and hatred that Severus had not seen in a very long time. His instinct was to grab his wand, shoot of a spell as he rolled out of the line of fire, and run for his life … but he wasn't a skinny, outnumbered kid anymore, and Black wasn't his enemy any longer.

"You saw him," Black hissed, slowly standing from his chair and snapping his knuckles in his agitation. "Where? Tell me where!"

"The Burrow," Severus replied at once. "But I do not think it wise for you to go there. If it is him, I would be best to go, if he has not run already … Perhaps I could bring Harry back for a visit, as an excuse. Actually, now that I think on it, the Weasley boy has had a rat as a familiar for a couple of years now."

"Which one?" Black growled.

"Percival," Severus replied dismissively. "You wouldn't know him; he was just a baby when you were imprisoned."

The man snorted. "A baby?"

"Six years old," Severus corrected himself. "He's close to thirteen now, I believe; entering his third year."

"If you're right about this …" Black faltered.

"You'll owe me again?" Severus finished with the slightest of smirks.

"Again? Seriously?" Black snorted, though his rage was fading to a more reasonable glow now as his humor returned. "What did I ever owe you for before?"

"Perhaps for not reporting my sighting of you to the Ministry?"

"You didn't even remember it to report it, thanks to Dumbles the bungler," Black laughed, waving him off. "Doesn't count."

"I saved Harry from your paranoid and decidedly not child-appropriate handling."

"If you'd left well enough alone, Harry wouldn't have gotten kidnapped by Dumbledore in the first place."

"And you wouldn't have had an excuse to go toe-to-toe with him," Severus countered in a reasonable tone. Speaking of which, Poppy actually called you here to tell me what I slept through, and how the meddler came to be missing."

Black rolled his eyes and glanced down at the mess on the floor. "Why'd you pitch a fit, anyway? I can't help it if I'm an idiot about how Death Eaters operate."

"Why no, you cannot help being an idiot," Severus agreed readily. "After all, it is your default state."

"I left myself wide open to that, didn't I?" Black muttered mournfully, picking up Snape's wand from the floor, and attempting to evanesco the mess. After two tries, the gruel disappeared, along with the broken dishes and spilled silverware, and Black picked up the tray manually. He tossed Severus his wand, wringing his hand with a pained expression on his face.

"Your wand hates me," he complained. "It bites me every time I try to use it, ungrateful stick."

"Ungrateful?" Severus repeated in a dry tone, twirling the wand in his hand in a casual display of finger dexterity.

"I saved it from an untimely death in Dumbledore's coat pocket," Black explained with a smug smile.

"Perhaps that is the only reason it isn't roasting your hand off for daring to handle it."

"Huh, maybe," Black eyed the black wand with mock interest. "Or maybe it's because me and you are more compatible than you think," he added with a devilish smirk.

Severus growled low in his throat and narrowed his eyes dangerously at the other man. "Keep in mind, Black, that while we may have been allies in the case of one Harry Potter, I will never be your friend, so do not push it."

"Ugh," Black groaned theatrically, throwing his hands in the air. "I give up. You are such an arse, you know that? Even when I save your life, your wand, and almost get killed for it, you still act like I'm scum off your shoe!"

"Pardon my recently restored memories, but I was not the first one to treat the other like so, was I?" Severus retorted.

"Come on! I was a kid!"

"So was I!"

Poppy suddenly bustled over with a very disapproving look on her face. "I can't leave you two alone for five minutes!" she exclaimed. "And here I thought you two were just going to be discussing what happened while Severus was unconscious!"

"We got distracted," Black shrugged unapologetically.

"I do not want to listen to one more minute of his self-absorbed prattle," Severus muttered in disgust. "I will wait. At least the wolf is more articulate."

"I whole-heartedly agree," Poppy huffed, gesturing impatiently at the animagus to abandon his chair. "Come along, Sirius. I warned you not to upset him so soon after he woke up."

"Kind of hard not to when he's so touchy," Black snorted with a challenging look, though he was following Poppy away from the bed anyway, the prat.

"Perhaps I ought to reconsider our truce?" Severus suggested with false thoughtfulness, raising his wand only half-threateningly. It proved a wrong choice, because with a cry of outrage, Poppy swooped in on him, snatched his wand away, and then scolded him for wasting his porridge and getting all excited so soon after being in a coma.

Sirius was smirking as Severus struggled to fend off the medi-witch, and Severus was getting ready to just crawl out of his bed and throttle the insufferable Gryffindor idiot with his bare hands. Well, in the next few minutes, he probably would have, but he was overcome by a wave of dizziness, and his head gave a vicious, stabbing pain. It was almost like a cruciatus aimed at his skull. He let out an involuntary gasp as he clutched his head, and to his chagrin, Black's taunting smirk vanished as if it had never been, and snapped to attention as Poppy yelled for him to grab something. Severus cried out, his hands shaking where they gripped his head. Why was it hurting again? Wasn't he better? He had woken up healed, right? He had all of his memories back, and he shouldn't be experiencing these stabbing migraines anymore! But whether it should be happening or not, Severus was in pain and it wasn't letting up, though it wasn't getting worse, thankfully.

Eventually, Black held him up while Poppy hurried off. For a few agonizing moments, Severus clenched his jaw to keep from groaning in agony as the pain ricocheted through his skull, stabbing and stabbing, and stabbing. Then, just as quickly as it had come, it was over. Severus was breathing hard, but his body relaxed in relief. Black was holding him awkwardly, but he was a solid thing to lean on, so Severus didn't move. He was too dazed to move at this moment anyway.

"Look …" Black suddenly said. "Moony's been on me for years to properly apologize to you, okay? And I just can't seem to stop teasing you. Don't ask me why; but you rub me the wrong way, I guess. I like getting you riled up. But I'm sorry."

"What if … I told you that this little episode was nothing but a ruse of mine to make a fool of you?" Severus suggested in a rough voice.

"Then I'd call you an arsehole and put you in a headlock."

Severus snorted and rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't. I'm an invalid."

"Not very invalid if you can play tricks on this old man."

"You are my age, you dolt."

"Exactly."

Severus jerked away from the man in disgust and gave him a shove for good measure. "Confound it all …!" he barked. "You are not old because I am not old, understand?"

"Well, you're not an invalid," Black shrugged cheekily. "Right?"

"You know full well I was being facetious."

"You know, I think you secretly love me," Black grinned, folding his arms as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "All that fighting we've been doing since we were teens? Unresolved tension, that's what it is."

Severus kept his face a bland, unimpressed mask, despite the horror he felt. Was Black serious? Or was he just goofing around, as he always did?

"Someday, I wish you would take your brain out from between your legs and put it back in your skull where it belongs," Severus said instead of violently protesting such a notion. He was pretty sure he and Black had already argued over something similar back in the Wolf's cabin anyway.

"Pfft," Black snorted, wiggling his eyebrows still more. "I tried that. Between the legs is more fun."

"For the love of …!"

"Yes, for the love of," Black grinned, clearly enjoying winding the potions master up again. "Tell me, Snape, were all those pranks just your attempts at getting my attention?"

Severus picked up a child's book from the nightstand and threw it. Black dodged it, laughing his head off. The potions master was frankly too furious at that point to trust himself to talk coherently, and he was exhausted after his strange migraine, so he just flopped back down on his pillow and scowled at the ceiling. Luckily for Black, before he could say anything else or even finish his hysterical laughing fit, Madam POmfrey ran back over and chased him away, and Severus could have sworn that the matronly woman spanked him when he wasn't moving fast enough. The image and Black's indignant protesting, were enough to make Severus smile at last, though it was a small one, and aimed only at the blank white ceiling.

When Poppy came back, sighing and muttering under her breath about the immaturity of some men, Severus wasted no time in propping himself up on one elbow to give her a very serious recommendation.

"The first thing on Minerva's budget for the year needs to be, moving paintings for the Infirmary ceiling," he announced.

"Art? On the ceiling?" Poppy repeated as if it were heresy.

Severus snorted and raised his eyes. "Have you looked at it recently?"

The mediwitch looked up, unimpressed. "Yes."

"Have you looked at it for hours on end for lack of something more stimulating to look at recently?" Severus amended in his driest tone.

Poppy sighed and acquiesced with a wave of her hands. "You can suggest it at our budget meeting next month, Severus, but I give you no guarantees." She patted his shoulder to get him to lie back down, and he only complied with a moody huff. Still, he couldn't resist having the last word, and she knew it.

"No guarantees of Minerva's cooperation? Or your endorsement?"

Poppy rolled her eyes and wisely changed the subject. "I fire-called Longbottom Estate. Minerva, Remus, and Harry should be getting back in a few moments."

"Why did you call them? It was just a headache!"

"It was very like several spells you've had over the last several days. Only Harry was able to help in any way."

Severus was quiet about that, and let Poppy fuss over him while his mind filled with memories of the boy. It was a relief to finally have full command of all his own memories once again. But now that his reunion with Harry was inevitable, and soon, he found himself panicking. He had not seen Harry with his intact mind since the boy was an infant, and how in the world was he supposed to tell the nine year old child about how their lives had been intertwined from his conception, and how even now, they were bound together with the ties of blood, which were not easily broken. Harry knew that he could be snappish and sour-tempered. Harry had witnessed him be harsh and frightening. But the boy had hugged him several times, had declared love for him even, and one time, had asked him if he was his father. It would all work out somehow. Severus knew he had to have faith about it.

"How will I tell him?" Severus whispered aloud, glancing at Poppy, who froze in mid-diagnostic cast.

"Gently, and with age-appropriate language," the mediwitch smiled encouragingly. "He is a smart boy, and a loving one. I think he will be overjoyed to learn who you truly are to him."

"But … I'm not a father," Severus protested, voicing his fears in a soft, uncertain tone. "My father was … was a drunk. He was … vile and crude and full of hate and bitterness. I know nothing of fatherhood. Perhaps … I should simply wait. Harry is fine now, not knowing who I am, perhaps …"

"Severus," Poppy interrupted then, reaching out to touch his cheek with the same tenderness he had shied away from as an angry teenager. "Harry loves you. That much is clear to all of us. And you are not alone in your fatherhood. I am here. Sirius and Remus are determined to help you. Minerva will most certainly be there for you. Harry will be happy with you. And you will be happy with him. There is no other way for this to work, Severus. Tell him the truth, take him home, and just love him. That is all the boy asks, and all he needs right now. Love him, and everything will follow."

Severus reached up and took her hand. He couldn't speak for the tears that clogged his throat, but he gave her a squeeze of gratitude before he managed to take a few deep breaths to clear his voice again. "So … love is the answer, is it?"

"It was the answer for Lily, wasn't it?" Poppy asked quietly, tears brimming in her eyes.

Severus flinched and looked away from her, memories swelling in his mind. The blood protection … Lily's sacrifice … that was his fault. It should have been him, lying on the nursery floor, not her. That was the plan, until the Dark Lord attacked too early. It was supposed to have been at midnight …

For weeks, James, (holding the black-haired, green-eyed infant) had scowled disapprovingly down at Severus and Lily as they sat in chalk circles of protection and invented the spell that had saved Harry, banished the Dark Lord's body from the realm of the living, and cost Lily her life. If it were not for Severus' unfortunate brilliance with dark magic, they never would have cracked the secret, would never have discovered how to save their child's life … the Dark Lord would never have been defeated.

Severus blinked the memories away, and nodded silently. She had known what she was sacrificing. She would have done so a hundred times over, just as he would have also. She died thinking that Severus would take their son and protect him as he had sworn to do. She did not count on Dumbledore being the snake in the nest. What must she think of him now?

No, he must stop this spiral. Poppy was right. He may have forgotten; he may have made mistakes; but he could make the right choice this time. He would love his son, protect him, and help him as he grew with his monthly affliction. So long as he loved the boy, all would fall into place.

He looked up suddenly as Black threw open the Infirmary door, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Poppy hurried away from his bedside, calling out in relief at the sight of Minerva and Lupin, who came in looking tense and stressed. Were they expecting him to be thrashing in pain or dead to the world? His eyes slid away from the adults to the small boy squirming around behind Lupin. The boy was dressed in traditional wizard clothing for a young boy his age, and he looked atrocious. Severus hated seeing little children in long robes. They tripped over the hems and they all looked like girls. But his hair was messy, as always, his eyes were big and bright green behind his glasses, and his pointed little face was flushed with health and life. His breath caught in his chest as he looked upon his son.

His son.

The boy gasped at the sight of him, and ran forward. "You're awake!" he cried, throwing himself on the bed and trying to wrap his short arms around Severus' whole bed, it seemed. "I knew you'd wake up! I knew it!" the boy whispered fiercely, joy making his eyes sparkle.

Severus couldn't reply at first. He raised a hand and cupped the child's cheek with it, simply feasting his eyes on the boy who was bone of his bone, flesh of his flesh. Whatever mistake or sin had brought him into existence, Severus would not trade any of it for the universe. Harry was his son, and he was perfect.

See what we have made, Lily? See what you have given me?

"Professor?" the boy asked timidly. "Are you … okay?"

"I'm well, Harry," Severus murmured, smiling slightly as he dropped his hand, well aware that he was making the boy nervous.

"Good," Harry grinned, and pulled away to holler at the top of his lungs, "See? I told you the Professor would be okay! I told you! He's awake now, just like I said! See?"

The other two Marauders came and stood behind Harry, both smiling. Black looked mischievous and Lupin appeared worn out and relieved, (which seemed to be their default states) and Harry beamed up at them with obvious affection. But when he climbed onto the bed beside Sverus and settled in next to him, resting his head on Snape's shoulders, he knew that Poppy had been right, about everything. As always.

"You were right, Harry," Remus agreed quietly, flashing Severus a smile filled with exhausted relief. "And as always, Professor Snape has excellent timing."

"Welcome back, Severus," Minerva McGonegall announced from the foot of the bed. "I do hope you will be well enough for the meeting next week."

"Meeting," Severus repeated warily.

"To decide on teaching arrangements, of course!" the Transfiguration Professor said in a slightly impatient tone. "With Albus gone, and my duties as Headmistress, I will not be able to cover Transfiguration classes and be Head of Gryffindor house any longer."

"Save the business talk until my patient is fully recovered," Poppy scolded them, shooing the Marauders and the Headmistress away as she bustled around Severus's bed. "Right now, Harry needs his rest as much as Severus does; am I right, you two?"

Severus raised an eyebrow at her not-subtle insinuation that he take this opportunity to talk to his son a bit. By the way Black was very not-subtly nudging and winking at his pet Wolf, even the normally obtuse Gryffindor got the implication. The Maruaders backed away and left the Infirmary, Minerva scolded him for a few more moments about never scaring her like that again, and Poppy announced that she had paperwork to organize in her office. When the doors all shut and silence reigned, Harry yawned and snuggled closer to Severus' side.

"This is nice," the boy murmured. He smelled of fresh air and garden soil. Severus adjusted his arm to wrap it around his son, and Harry took his hand and squeezed it.

"I knew you'd wake up, Professor," he said in a quiet voice. "But I was scared it would be a long time."

"So was I," Severus confessed in a whisper. "I … am glad I woke when I did. How did your meeting with the Longbottoms go before you were called away?"

Harry sighed and didn't answer for almost a minute. "Professor, if somebody loves somebody, but they don't seem nice all the time, or they say mean things all the time, and the somebody is scared all the time, is it bad?"

Severus, whose eyebrows had been twitching at each new bit of information, smiled wryly as he gently squeezed Harry's hand in his. "I'm afraid you will have to rephrase that, Harry, you lost me."

"I mean," the boy huffed, now playing with Severus' pinky finger. "Neville's really nice, but he's scared of everything. He says his Grandmother tells him he's a disgrace to his parents, and I … I dunno, but he's really scared of his uncle. He said for me not to say anything, but I just remember being so scared and wishing somebody would take me away … you know?"

Severus was quiet for several long seconds while he gathered what he hoped was an age-appropriate answer. "I think I see your concern. I'm not sure we can help young Mr. Longbottom the way I helped you. Augusta Longbottom was named in her son's will to be Neville's caretaker and guardian should anything happen to him, and pure-blood families like the one she comes from have their own ideas about raising children. If something very horrible was going on, then the Ministry might get involved, but if not, especially if Neville is resisting anyone doing anything, it would be extremely difficult to prove any kind of abuse, or correct them on it."

Harry was silent for a while longer, chewing on the answer. "That's stupid," he finally said in a low growl. "But I guess regular people are stupid anyway. At my school, I told a teacher once that my uncle hit me, and nothing happened to my relatives. Snuffles says they belong in Azkaban. Was that the prison he broke out of?"

"Yes, and it's illegal to imprison muggles there," Severus answered sternly. "They would go insane within a few weeks, and die soon after that."

Harry froze, and Severus could hear him audibly gulp. He wished he could see the boy's face, analyze his reaction.

"Oh," the boy murmured at last. "I dunno … I guess they don't really deserve that. I just thought they should go to jail for a while, so they can see what it's like being locked up all the time."

"I agree," Severus muttered. But it would probably be a lot less hassle if they just left the Dursleys to their miserable, monotonous little lives, so he didn't long entertain the idea of getting muggle police involved.

"Harry?" Severus suddenly said in a secretive whisper. "How would you like getting up and taking a walk?"

The boy perked up at once, rolling almost onto Severus' torso and staring at him with eyes that sparkled with excitement, mischief, and concern. "Really? That'd be brilliant!" he gushed in a conspiratorial loud-whisper. "But … will Ma'am Pomfrey let you?"

"She doesn't need to know, does she?" Severus asked with a smirk that the boy readily returned. Yes, he had a future Slytherin on his hands. Wouldn't Black throw a fit about it? The thought alone gave Severus energy to sit up and get out of bed. He balanced for a few moments, letting the blood run through his weak muscles, and then he stretched. Wielding his wan, he transfigured his hospital pajamas with more suitable attire, and Harry grinned the whole time.

They crept out of the Infirmary with no one the wiser, both smirking at one another.

HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP

Harry had never seen this tower before when Sir Nicholas the Almost-Lost-His-Head had given him the tour. The wind was fresh and cool, they were higher than he'd ever been before, and Harry darted around, looking down from all the parapets. Hagrid's house looked like a model from so high, and even Hagrid himself was the size of an ant. The clouds seemed so much closer, and the scary forest where the creepy moving tree and broken-down shack were was a green blur.

The Professor was tired after climbing so many stairs and was sitting on a stone bench that ran almost all the way around the entire tower wall. He was watching Harry, so he was careful not to do anything that would get him scolded, like leaning too far or running to fast.

"What's this place, Professor?" Harry asked, hurrying back over to him and sitting down on the cold stone.

"This is the Astronomy Tower," the Professor explained, looking up at the blue sky. "At night, students come here for classes about the night sky."

"Stargazing?" Harry asked in surprise. "That's a class? Wicked!"

The Professor smirked, and Harry had learned by now that the Professor often smirked where someone else might normally chuckle or laugh. "I feel I must warn you, this 'stargazing' can become quite tedious. I never cared much for it myself. The constellations and the phases of the moon are very important for magical folk, so it is important to know the night sky all year round."

"The moon's important for me too," Harry added in a more subdued voice. He squinted up at the sky. "I can usually tell where it is in the sky. Um … is that weird?"

"For a Werewolf, it is normal," the Professor assured him, stretching out his legs and leaning back against the stone wall. It was warm up here under the sunshine, but the places where the tower was cast in shade, the stone was still cool. Harry thought it was very nice, and in weather like this, an ideal place to take a nap.

Harry kicked his heels against the stone. "I missed you, sir," he blurted out, glancing up at the Professor. "And I didn't want to live anywhere else, not even with the Weasleys."

"Oh?" the Professor said casually. A little too casually, the boy could see. The man's eyes were sharp, assessing him, and though his posture was relaxed, Harry could sense a new tension in him. Why? Was he afraid of something?

Harry gulped. "Yes sir," he hurried to say. "I … I don't want to live with anybody but you. Could I stay with you forever? Please? Now that Headmaster's gone and all, and Ma'am Longbottom doesn't want me …"

"Harry," the Professor sighed, sitting up straight and clasping his hands in front of himself while he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "There is something … something I have to tell you first."

Harry frowned, suddenly worried. "Er, okay, sir," he faltered. "But … Nothing you say's gonna make me not want to stay with you sir."

"I believe it," the Professor smiled faintly. "But you still ought to step into this with open eyes." The man took a deep breath and his eyes skittered around at the stone parapets, or the clouds drifting by in the perfect blue sky, or the owl swooping past almost out of sight. "A long time ago, before you were born, I knew your mother," he explained. "I was best friends with her."

Harry nodded. The Professor had said so before.

"We eventually … stopped being friends. I was not a kind person, and your mother was. So … there were times we disagreed. Over time as I pursued my own path, I did some things that I am not proud of, and your mother was very hurt by it." The Professor paused and sighed. "Anyway … I'll explain more when you're older, but basically, Dumbledore erased some of my memories of her. I did not remember this until I woke up in the Infirmary an hour ago."

"Remember what?" Harry asked in a hushed voice, his heart pounding against his ribs.

The Professor looked up and fixed him with his fathomless ink-black eyes. "I … I'm your real father, Harry. I'm your dad."

Harry stared in confusion for several seconds before it truly hit him. Then he felt dizzy. But it felt right too; so right that tears burned his eyes and his whole body vibrated with the need to jump, or run, or hug the man … his dad. So he was right, all those weeks ago, when he had looked in a mirror and seen how he resembled the stern Professor who had saved his life. He had asked a question that even the Professor himself hadn't remembered the answer to. And the thing was, Harry felt like he had known it all along. The Professor had cared for him, fed him, disciplined him, and followed after him even when his own boss was the one taking Harry away. He had almost died to save Harry. The Professor had always been his dad, even when neither of them knew it.

The boy flung his arms around the Professor and buried his face in the man's shoulder. "I knew it," he whispered triumphantly. "I knew it!"

The Professor seemed stunned at first, but his arms came up and he hugged Harry back. "So …" the man said in a rough-sounding voice. "You want to come live with me now?"

Harry pulled back and stared at the Professor … his dad … for several seconds, wondering if he'd hit his head, or something. Why in the world wouldn't he, after hearing that?

"I belong to you," Harry said confidently. "I have to come live with you if you're really my dad."

To his relief, the Professor … Dad … smiled. It was a real smile this time, tinged with wetness in his dark eyes. "Yes," he whispered, reached up to brush Harry's hair off his forehead. "I am really your dad."

"Brilliant," Harry whispered back, leaning slightly into the touch. The Professor smelled less like himself since he hadn't been brewing or teaching lately, but there was the faintest whiff of potions about him, and the scent that was uniquely the Professor's. Harry breathed it in, and his smile grew. It was the smell of Dad. Of home. Of safety. It always had been.

"What do we do first?" Harry asked, barely able to keep down the bubble of excitement. "We've got to tell my Wolf! Are you mad that I'm friends with him now? You said you were gonna kill him if he ever touched me again, but he's really nice, actually, and he promised to teach me good things about Werewolves, and he said he'd stay with me next Full Moon. I've got to tell Sirius too; he really loves me, but he's not a dad like you, so that's good! And we have to tell Professor McGon'gall and Ma'am Pomfrey, oh! And Mrs. Weasley! Will I get to live in your house forever and ever now? Do I get my own room?"

To his surprise, the Professor was laughing. "Slow down, Harry," he chided, but with a big smile. His dark eyes gleamed with life and happiness, and Harry grinned back even as he shut up. "I regret to inform you that you are the last one to learn this information," he said gravely. "Your Dog-father knows, the Wolf knows, Madam Pomfrey knows, and even Minerva McGonegall knows. But yes, you will live with me, and yes, you will get your own room this time."

Harry threw himself forwards and hugged him again. "I love you," he said fervently. IT was funny; he'd said it before, but he'd never meant it the way he did right now. He really, really meant it. The Professor … his dad … was the best thing that had ever happened to him in his life.

"I love you too, Harry," his Dad said quietly, hugging him back and even giving him a kiss on his head.

Suddenly, a pair of voices interrupted them as the door at the bottom of the Astronomy staircase opened.

"I'm pretty sure he's up there, Moony," Sirius was saying. "I mean, we looked everywhere else."

"Then why must you drag me along? I could be checking the Room of Requirement," Mr. Remus' voice floated up next.

"Because two eyes are better than one," Sirius retorted as if Remus was dumb.

"Then you should be perfectly capable of surveying a blank stone circle with your own two eyes."

"What? No, I meant … Gah, it doesn't matter! Just come on and stop being such a baby!"

"You've bullied me into your schemes ever since we were kids," Remus sighed forlornly. "At this moment, I'm wondering why I don't just turn around and leave you to it."

"Cause you love me so much," Sirius teased.

"Ugh, don't make me ill," Remus teased back, though his insults were delivered with more seriousness. "As if anyone could love you. Have you looked in a mirror lately? Or smelled your breath?"

"Hey, there's nothing cleaner than a dog's mouth, haven't you heard?"

Remus snorted, and it sounded like he might be laughing. They were almost to the top now, and the Professor held up a finger to Harry, cautioning him to be quiet and wait.

"Dogs are very lovable; just ask all the old ladies who fed me on my odyssey across the mainland!" Sirius went on in a wounded tone.

"Don't you find it fascinating, that people love you more when you're a dog than when you're human? Shouldn't that say something about you?"

"You're just jealous," Sirius laughed, and suddenly, the two of them popped out of the dark stairwell and looked right at them. Harry grinned and waved, one arm still around the Prof—his dad.

"See, Moony?" Sirius grinned triumphantly, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets. "Told you they'd be up here."

"So you did," Remus sighed, and shook his head fondly. "You doing alright, Severus?"

"I told him," the Professor said simply.

"You did?" Sirius exclaimed, grinning hugely. "That's great! What do you think, Harry, is he gonna disown me now that he has the power?"

"No, you guys like each other," Harry replied with a shrug, as if it was obvious. It kind of was, even though the last time those two were together, they'd fought and Harry had run away.

It was funny to see how the adults all looked at each other, though.

"So, we've got a lot of work to do," Sirius said decisievely, pulling his hands from his pockets to rub them together. "We've got to remodel your house, Snape, because hey, Remus told me what a dump it is."

"My house is fine!" the Professor protested, and Harry nodded in agreement.

"Hah!" Sirius laughed. "That's a good one. Okay, and then we need to catch that rat …"

"What rat?" Harry demanded.

"The Weasley rat," his Dad explained. "There's something off about it."

"Yeah," Harry agreed at once, frowning as he remembered how it had looked at him that one time. "It smelled funny too."

"Then we should do that first," Remus pointed out. "It's more important than remodeling, at any rate." He said this with a scowl in Sirius' direction.

Harry watched the grown-ups bicker and tease, and soon his Dad got up too and stood there with them, arguing and waving his hands to illustrate his points. Remus leaned against the stone wall and watched with a smile, chiming in every now and then. Sirius waved his arms and laughed with his whole face and body.

This was his family, Harry realized. A godfather who could turn into a dog. A Werewolf who had accepted him in his pack. A dad who was always there for him even when neither knew about it. Tears burned Harry's eyes and he suddenly jumped up and joined his dad, hugging him tightly around the waist.

"Harry?" his Dad asked anxiously. "Are you alright? We aren't fighting. Not exactly, at any rate." And he glared at a cheekily grinning Sirius.

"No, I'm fine," Harry assured him, blinking up at him and feeling so happy that he thought his chest might burst. "But … I've got a real family now."

"Three dads," Sirius agreed with the cheekiest grin ever.

"And Dad?" Harry said quickly before Sirius could start another fight.

"Yes, son?" his Professor said patiently.

"Can you turn into an animal too? You need to stay with me when me and Mr. Remus and Snuffles go out on Full Moons."

For several moments, his Dad, and his Wolf, and his godfather, were all speechless. Then, a devious grin spread over Sirius' face, and Remus smothered a big smile, and his Dad looked horrified.

"Oh this'll be good," Sirius chortled, rubbing his hands together deviously. "The Professor getting lessons from the school dropout!"

"Please," his Dad snorted. "As if I would need lessons on something you managed when you were fifteen."

"Hey, I could teach you a thing or two, you never know."

"It wouldn't be very hard for someone of your discipline and mental control," Remus offered helpfully. "And I did most of the theory work for the others, so Sirius won't be your only teacher."

'Thank Merlin," the Professor muttered sarcastically. "Can we please just think about this before making plans?"

"What's there to think about?" Sirius asked with a shrug. "Your son wants you with him on the Full Moons. I think that's easily done, and we have a week until the next one."

"You want me to undergo the animagus transformation in a week?"

"I hear there's a potion you can use as opposed to the Transfiguration route," Sirius shrugged. ""You can do that, Mr. Potions Master."

"You do not get to tell me what I can and can't do, Sirius Black," his Dad scolded, but Harry could see that he was starting to think about it.

He smothered a grin and stepped back, letting the grown-ups, his 'dads', fight it out.

Yes, it looked like he was getting a happily ever after.

HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP

Finished! Yes, at last it is finished. A sequel was in my brain, but I may never get around to it.

Thank you again for your support and farewell to all of you, my lovely readers!