A/N: Here you have another requested one-shot (Harry meeting his grandmother Andraste and Corbin after the war). Not plotty, but it's got family fluff. An important Severitus conversation takes place as well. This fic will probably offer some answers to questions you might have had while reading "It's Not That Simple."
I'm working on more one-shots inspired by "It's Not That Simple" and, especially, on "A Tale of Two Crows", a multi-chaptered teen!AU Snyrah fic. The first chapter's already uploaded. I posted it as a separate story since it can be read as such. If you'd like to get update notifications, you should follow that fic or follow me as an author :)
A SIMPLE PHOTOGRAPH
Harry, covered in dirt and sweat, could see a woman through the half-open door. Her vibrant blue eyes gave her identity away. He'd seen her through Voldemort's eyes once.
"I know I must look like a beggar, but please don't shut the door. My mum flew away with you and Corbin the moment I arrived, so you might not recognize me, but…" He pushed his hair out of his forehead, revealing a world-famous scar.
Andraste threw the door completely open with a wide grin. "I was wondering when you'd be coming home! Please come in before a muggle spots you and assumes you've just committed a crime."
Harry hadn't expected her to have a dark sense of humor – neither Skyrah nor Dione did – nor to appreciate it himself, yet he found himself holding back a laugh. They got her cheerful tone and warm smile instead, he thought as he cast a spell. With it, most of the filth was removed. He wouldn't like to get the Snapes' home dirty. Theirs. His.
There was a brief, awkward pause. What were you supposed to tell someone that had been kidnapped until that very day, anyway, someone who also happened to be your adoptive grandmother? Should he shake her hand as if they were strangers? They were strangers, but family. Was she aware of that, though? And even if she wasn't, wouldn't shaking hands be too cold? Perhaps a hug was more adequate. Dione and Skyrah were affectionate. If Skyrah had got her affection from someone, it hadn't been from Tom Riddle of all people. Surely, Andraste would welcome some affection after being lonely for years. Harry would have given it a try if it weren't for how gaunt she looked, way more than Dione after her arrival at Hogwarts. When had Andraste eaten for the last time? Should he offer her something to eat instead of debating whether to hug or shake hands? No. Mum and Dad must have taken care of that in my absence, he thought.
"I hope you can forgive me for not going to Ireland. I needed to return the Elder Wand, leave everything sorted out. It's great to finally meet you," he settled for saying.
She invited him into the living room with a heartfelt, "Likewise."
Home, at last, he thought while collapsing onto the sofa, relieved. Harry had missed the smell of flowers that filled the place. No trace of potions lingered in the air just yet, with the Snapes having lived at Hogwarts during the school period. He craned his neck to get a glimpse at the garden and the few rooms that were visible from the living room.
"Is everyone sleeping?"
"Corbin and Dione definitely are," she explained, tilting her head towards the direction of her daughter's bedroom. "Skyrah and Severus were having a bath. They must be sleeping by now as well."
"Unlike you."
"I can't sleep anymore. I'm too excited to be with my family, especially my grandsons." Harry's lips curled at the plural form. "I noticed you called Skyrah your mum. I know she loves you as she loves Corbin. I hope you don't mind that I refer to you as my grandson."
"Not at all. When it was over, they offered to officially adopt me, er, Grandmother? Is that too formal? What am I supposed to call you?"
"Corbin calls me Glanny Andy, but you should call me whatever comes naturally to you."
So Harry settled for Grandma Andy. Andraste, apart from being too long, would confuse little Corbin.
"I must say I never imagined I'd become the grandmother of a boy who is about my youngest daughter's age."
He'd never imagined he'd become the grandchild of someone who had slept with the one who'd murdered his biological parents and nearly succeeded in murdering his adoptive parents either. He was morbidly curious to ask how on earth that had happened, and whether it had been lust, or love, or fear, or a mix of those that had driven her. He'd like to know, too, if she'd been like Dad – someone who had frankly believed and supported Voldemort – and, in that case, what had caused the change of heart. Then again, none of those questions were pertinent, were they? Was he even ready to hear the answers anyway? He wasn't sure. Maintaining that light-hearted atmosphere she was building seemed to be the wisest course of action.
"I don't think I'll be calling her Aunt Dione other than to tease her."
Andraste clicked her tongue. "Don't let her yellow tie fool you. She'll tease you back."
"I'm counting on it."
"So you're friends with Dione."
"We lived in this house for a while. I grew to care for her very much. For this family."
She hummed, reflexive. "It's poetic revenge to know that the daughter of the wizard who killed your parents and a former Death Eater will adopt you."
"When I first came into this living room, the last thing I thought would happen was that I'd end up calling them my parents. I didn't know Mum well yet, but Dad wasn't my favorite teacher, precisely. I wasn't his favorite student either."
"It must have been awkward."
"Very awkward. But I was relieved, too, that I didn't have to live with my muggle family. They–" He cut himself off, realizing what he was about to reveal.
Much to his discomfort, Skyrah had inherited her observational skills from her mother, and so Andraste intuited what he was going to say anyway, or so her serious expression indicated.
"Skyrah was in need of a family too, with me and Dione being… away. I'm glad you found each other. Life sometimes surprises us for the best, and gives us exactly what we need." A lopsided grin spread across her face. "Right now, it looks like you need a shower and some sleep."
Harry was about to agree with her when he caught sight of the library door. "That can wait… I'll be back in a second."
He returned with what looked like a vintage album. Once he settled back next to her on the sofa, she could make out its title.
"The Snape Family," she read out loud.
"Dione and I took photos in secret and gave Mum this album for her birthday. Would you like to see them?"
"Yes, please," she breathed, not quite believing her luck.
Even if the photographs captured domestic bliss evinced in smiles and cuddles and kisses, Andraste's eyes wouldn't light up. All her smiles were sad. Though the photographs were a treasure, the treasure came with a price: that of being reminded she hadn't been there. The album was still better than nothing, though, and she kept asking Harry to tell her anecdotes or to explain what exactly was going on at the moment each photograph was taken.
There weren't as many photographs after his departure as Harry would have liked (he blamed it on the hard school year), but it was still nice to see Poppy playing blocks with Corbin, and Eileen making Nox fly around Corbin, and Corbin chasing a familiar cat, and Dione with Corbin in her arms waving at the camera and kissing his chubby cheek. Andraste noted his silence once they reached those photographs, as well as the fact that Harry didn't appear on the album anymore. If she and Harry had to have something in common, she wouldn't have chosen that, of all things.
"From now on, you will appear in the photos again. We both will," she told him in an attempt to cheer him, herself, up.
A smile didn't cross his lips. Nor did he nod. Instead, he studied her. This close, he noticed her eyes, though identical to Dione's in color, spoke of wisdom Dione hadn't acquired yet.
"Is something on your mind?" she wondered.
"I've got questions, but they're too personal. We don't know each other well yet, so…"
"How will you get to know me if you don't ask me personal questions?"
Good logic. Still…
"Some questions may come across as rude and intruding."
"If so, I'll decide whether to answer them or not. I've never been afraid of questions. On the contrary."
"You speak like a Ravenclaw."
"I was sorted into Ravenclaw to my father's disappointment and my mother's delight." Since he was staring at his shoes, Andraste insisted, "Ask away, Harry. I've spent too long with little human interaction. The few words directed to me were degrading. I'd love to have a real conversation with my grandson… Unless you need rest. You've just won the war. I can wait."
He shook his head. Adrenaline still coursed through his veins. Sleep wouldn't come easy.
"Dione's never really told us what being kidnapped was like, but at least she had you. You've spent years alone. I can't imagine how tough that must've been. How did you manage?"
"I was far better company than those Death Eaters. They weren't the most genial hosts I could've had."
The corner of his mouth curled. "How do you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Make fun of that. It must have been a depressing situation."
"It was."
"…Do you want to talk about it, or will thinking about it make you feel worse?"
"Talking about it might be liberating. You aren't my therapist, though. It wouldn't be fair to you."
"I'll start, then."
Andraste frowned. "Start with what?"
"I'll tell you about my shitty year. It won't compare to your experience, but…"
"Harry," she said, her voice as soft as when Skyrah called him sweetheart. "You don't have to do this."
"I need to talk to someone, and I'm scared my parents will worry too much if I tell them about this. They know what was going on at my uncle and aunt's place. They know some things that happened this year, away from them. But not everything. You'll worry when I tell you, too, but I can listen to you in exchange, and we might help each other. Besides, I want you to know about me, too."
"All right."
So he spoke of the desperation and helplessness that had invaded his life this last year. Of his coming to terms with his death, and how that had affected him. Of everything he thought he'd miss: being part of the Snape family, traveling the world, getting a fulfilling job, getting married, and becoming a dad. He'd often think about everything he'd missed because of his childhood, and that he'd love to do as an adult anyway, like going to a muggle funfair or to the cinema. Little ordinary things which were nothing short of extraordinary to him. By accepting his death, he had waved farewell to all of that. He'd often cried at night. Only Hermione knew that, having caught him once when he forgot to cast the charms and Ron was away. Harry would get furious with Voldemort, with the entire world. He'd get worried about the Snapes because he knew they cared deeply for him, and his death would be a hard blow to take. The mere idea of bringing such pain to them would make him sick. He'd wonder why him. Why the entire Wizarding World's survival depended on his death? In the end, the only thing that had helped him was to remind himself that his death would be the beginning of a good life for Corbin, and that, over time, the Snapes would appreciate his effort.
Being a Ravenclaw, he'd expected Andraste to ask him questions while he recounted his experience. Instead, she had kept quiet, attentive, unjudging.
Her bony fingers touched his cheek. It took Harry a moment to realize she was wiping his tears away.
"I see why my daughter loves you. You're a selfless, courageous man. Tom had no right to put you in that situation. It's time to enjoy your life, to reap the benefit of your huge, huge sacrifice. You deserve to be alive, and be part of this family, and make one of your own someday."
Harry thanked her as he pulled back from her and gave her a nod which seemed to say your turn.
Andraste glimpsed at Dione's bedroom door as if double-checking her daughter wouldn't overhear her. A big intake of breath later, it began. At first, she spoke very softly, still unsure she was doing the right thing. A few sentences into her tale, she began to relax. She'd been right. It was liberating, and Harry, poor Harry, was making his best not to show pity for her, and to just listen.
The cells had been all different, and yet all of them were too dark and cold, or too hot, or too damp. Though thirsty she hadn't been, she had learned the definition of hunger. The lack of mattresses left her with an aching body. The lack of company after Dione's escape, with an aching heart. A part of her had wished Dione hadn't been saved if only to have someone to face such a situation alone. Immediately after, she'd feel guilty for thinking that in the first place.
Over time, Andraste had learned to distract herself by imagining her grandson's personality and looks, humming songs her mother and Skyrah would sing, Irish dancing without music, reliving pleasant memories, and listing everything she was grateful for in life. She would often fantasize about a future in which Tom could no longer hurt her family. With Skyrah and the Order knowing about the horcruxes, that fantasy could very well become true. That had given her strength. In the beginning, she had ignored the slurs the Death Eaters would cast on her. It came to a point, though, that she had also learned to laugh at their insults and her circumstances.
"Being ignored is something that annoys us all. But if you really want to get under somebody's skin, there's nothing better than laughing."
Harry smirked at her observation. "In spite of everything, you must be the sanest person I know."
"Did you assume I'd be as mad as Bellatrix Lestrange? I'll admit there was a time we had the same bad taste in men, though I, fortunately, grew out of it. I like to think I'm not as mental as she is."
"Was. She died in the Battle." Her shoulders stooped as if she were sad by the news. Much as it surprised him, he didn't question her. "And no, I didn't assume that. It's just that you need to be a very strong person for you to be mentally sane after almost three years without anyone to talk to, and living in poor conditions."
"When you've already been at the bottom, being strong isn't so frightening or difficult. It's your only choice to survive. And when you've got two daughters and know that one of them had a baby, you don't feel at the bottom anymore, despite being captive. Close to it, true, but it's quite the improvement. After everything Tom did to me and my family, I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me defeated."
"You're admirable."
"Says the one who saved the world."
"I only cast an expelliarmus."
"And humble, too. I like you."
"I like you too," said Harry with an honest smile.
"Even though I slept with the one who murdered your parents?"
"Mum's his daughter and I still–"
"Skyrah didn't choose her parents. I chose Tom, and I suspect the questions you haven't asked yet are related to him."
"Some of them."
Andraste made a gesture with her thin arms, inviting him to bombard her with questions. It was so rare, to find someone willing to open up like that. That alone made him like her even more. He started with the first question that occurred to him: what she'd seen in him.
"A nose. Back then Tom had one." Harry let out a snigger he quickly muffled with his hand, remembering Dione and Corbin were sleeping nearby. "Seriously, his nose was handsome. He had classic good looks most girls and some boys swooned at. I was one of them. As a young man, he was thoroughly charming. Remarkably intelligent. Inquisitive. A leader. He was… a lot like Skyrah. That's why she always feared she'd become him. She didn't see that despite sharing those traits, they both used them differently."
"I don't know you well yet, but I think Mum's a lot like you, too. It's very easy to talk to you both, and you're very observant."
"Observant… It's one of the reasons Tom wanted me. Much as he hid it, he was a half-blood, unlike me. Some pure-blood traditions escaped him. I didn't see he was using me. I didn't see how obsessive and manipulative he was until it was too late and I was totally smitten with him. I refused to believe a monster was capable of making the sweetest child."
"How was Mum as a child?" Harry had often wondered if she'd been anything like Corbin, or if Corbin was just like Severus, but one that had always felt cherished and had never been heart-broken.
Despite her ashy skin, grey hair, and wrinkles around her eyes, Andraste appeared young. Harry suspected it had to do with her grin, the broadest he'd seen on her face.
"Affectionate, lively, curious, clever, and, at times, impish. She was quite fussy and stubborn, too. She drove me crazy when I took her out; she'd always sneak away to smell the flowers. She loved playing outdoors. She'd jump on her skipping rope and ask her grandmother to play clapping games with her. They'd sing and read together. When it was too cold to be outside, she'd beg her to tell her stories: myths, legends, tales… And historical events. She used to take her plushies and dolls and give them History lectures. Now and then, she'd drag Quigley, our house-elf, to bear with her games and act as a student."
"She was probably a better teacher at eight than Professor Binns, however old he is now."
Andraste covered her mouth to muffle a snigger. "Most likely. She'd even come up with lesson plans: she'd write down a summary of what she planned to tell, note down the pages of reference from History books, and sometimes make her own drawings to help her explain certain historical events, or design a timeline. She'd ask me to correct her spelling. She needed everything to be 'absolutely perfect'," Andraste finished in a high-pitched tone, imitating Skyrah's child voice and stern expression.
The image Harry had just envisioned in his head, with a little Skyrah talking passionately about Emeric the Evil to an audience of toys and a house-elf, was adorable. He could see Corbin doing the same one day, but teaching Potions and asking his big brother to be his student. Harry wouldn't mind being Nox's classmate at all.
"In her first year in Ilvermorny, she lost her innocence, her cheerfulness. She had to grow up so fast, make decisions no child should've ever been forced to make. I couldn't stop Tom from hurting her until she was so broken I feared she wouldn't fix herself. And then Tom disappeared, and Skyrah learned to breathe again. But fear kept controlling her… until today. I'm so damn proud of her."
"You and Professor Dumbledore are the only ones who use his real name."
"He went by Tom Riddle at school. I never got quite used to calling him any other name."
"You met at school?"
"When I was eleven and he was the Head Boy. Some Slytherins were jeering at me. They weren't fond of the idea of a Carrow having been sorted into Ravenclaw. Tom told them off. Nobody ever jeered at me again at Hogwarts."
"He helped someone other than himself?"
"Oh, no. He was a calculating person. For his cause, he needed wizards and witches from all Houses. He saw my potential and charmed me."
"Charmed you? Did your, ugh, romance start when you were a kid and he was a legal adult?" asked Harry, suddenly nauseous.
"No, unless you count an innocent, unrequited crush as romance. We didn't really talk much. Tom and I didn't cross paths again until I was almost twenty-seven, when I went to Borgin and Burkes to sell a cursed tarot deck."
"He worked there for many years. It's how he got the cup and locket."
"And how he got me. I was easy to prey on. I was prone to falling in love easily with witches and wizards, but none of my relationships had been successful." If she'd expected him to react somehow to that piece of information, he didn't. He kept listening, as she'd done with him earlier. "I was starting to believe there was something wrong with me. He smelled my fear and used it against me. He somehow recognized me from Hogwarts, and courted me."
Harry wrinkled his nose unconsciously. "I find it hard to imagine him flirting with anyone."
"He was a talented actor, natural charmer, and ruthless manipulator."
"A liar, too, unless he didn't hide his views on muggles from you. Were you okay with them?"
"I was the one who hid my views from him. I didn't wish to destroy my relationship with him. I didn't learn how radical his opinions were until Skyrah was a toddler already. He was very secretive about his business; that's how he called it. He did trust me with something important, though."
"The horcruxes."
She made a humming sound. "He asked me to make one myself so that we could be together forever. He never said he loved me. I thought, wrongly, that was his way to tell me he did, when it was another way to tie me to him, to keep using me. Do you know how horcruxes are made?"
"You need to kill," he replied confidently.
"Exactly. I refused his offer and convinced him that babies would keep our bloodlines alive, one way or another. After a while, he accepted the alternative, knowing that pure-blood families give importance to heirs and legacy. Traditionally, it has always been considered ideal to have a heir and an heiress, and that was what he wanted. We had Skyrah. I didn't accept he would never be a good father until it was too late."
"When Mum confronted him, she told him he could've become someone else if he'd accepted your love. Do you think she's right? Could he have turned out to be a good parent?"
"After splitting his soul so many times? No. Before that? Maybe. If he'd been loved as a child. My and Skyrah's love for him was never enough because the damage was already done, irreparable."
"What about the love potion Merope gave to Tom Riddle senior? Professor Dumbledore believed that was the reason why Voldemort was incapable of love."
"If the problem is a potion, why isn't there an antidote yet? Do you think that's the first time someone uses a love potion to get pregnant? What about Skyrah? Tom never loved me, which means she was born out of a loveless union. Yet she loves deeply. She loves because I loved her even before she was born. Have you wondered why Tom allowed me to show affection to Skyrah when he viewed love as weakness?" By his expression, Harry hadn't. "Because in the orphanage where he grew up, babies died."
"What?" he asked, horrified.
"Babies. They had been fed and bathed and generally taken care of. But they hadn't been held enough. Some survived. Others died. Tom didn't wish that fate on his own heiress, at least on his first. He knew he was incapable of expressing love. He needed me to raise Skyrah. Once she was old enough, he began to re-educate her with sadistic methods. They failed."
"So you think Vodemort… Tom, was the way he was because he lacked love as a child."
"I suspect that's the main factor. He survived as a baby, but empathy is first learned by sharing touches and smiles. He didn't have that. We're scared of what we can't understand. He was no different."
Harry nodded, reflective. He was an orphan as well. His childhood had been far from idyllic, being treated no better than a servant by his own aunt and uncle. If Lily and James hadn't loved each other, if they hadn't loved him as a baby, what kind of person would Harry have turned out to be? And what about Severus? Another abused child. Harry didn't question his capacity for love. Tobias and Eileen, no matter what Severus thought, must have loved each other, or at the very least, loved baby and toddler Severus.
"What about Dione? How did you meet her dad?"
"You're particularly interested in my love life, aren't you? Maybe I should ask about yours," she teased.
His cheeks blazed, though he tried to play it cool. "There isn't much to tell. I broke up with my first girlfriend before hunting the horcruxes to protect her."
"It took Skyrah long to start dating precisely because she thought she was protecting the one she was so obviously in love with. You might not be Slytherin's descendant yourself, but you really are her son."
The comment made him feel warm. He was surprised when she went on to actually answer his question.
"I'd have never met Connor if I hadn't been with Tom. I moved to the US to put some distance between him and Skyrah and me. Connor and I ended up working together."
"You're a dragonologist? That's the only thing Dione's told me about her dad. His job."
"I'm a researcher specialized in dragons. Connor was divorcing his first wife when we met. We remained friends for nearly two years, and then we became something more to my in-laws' disappointment."
"I take it that you didn't get along."
"That's an understatement. Not that I blame them. I never told them why I left Connor alone with baby Dione."
"What do you mean? Didn't you look after her?"
"I used to visit her, but Connor was the one who looked after her until Tom disappeared. Tom would have hurt my husband and Dione to teach Skyrah yet again love is for the weak. Dione and Connor had to remain a secret. After Connor's death, Mr. and Mrs. Fawley tried to take Dione away from me." Harry made a choking sound. "I won the trial, obviously. They haven't even sent an owl to Dione ever since. Needless to say, I'm very glad Severus and I get along just fine."
"Dad can relate to having a complicated past. He wouldn't push you away, no matter what."
Since he failed to muffle a yawn (the adrenaline all gone), Andraste prompted Harry to take a shower and go to bed already. When he inquired if she'd be all right, she assured him she would be journaling, something she'd always found cathartic and which she'd missed while kidnapped.
"I'm proud of being your grandson," he told her.
She took his left hand in her frail hands and brought it to her mouth to lay a kiss on it as a response. He didn't know how much he'd missed a grandparent's kiss until he got one.
Harry stretched his aching body, eyes still closed. He had missed his bed, his bedroom, and would have stayed at least ten more minutes beneath the bedsheets if he hadn't been looking forward to seeing his family. He groped for his glasses. Once his vision was no longer blurry, he spotted a note on his nightstand. He recognized Dione's handwriting even if it wasn't signed from doing some of their summer homework together. It informed him that they were all in the Snapes' bedroom, and that they hadn't dared wake him up for breakfast, deeming sleep more important. He began to climb the stairs without checking the time first, nor even taking a simple apple as a snack.
"Harry said you're going to adopt him," he heard Andraste say, midway.
"You chatted?" asked Dione.
"He was curious about my past. I encouraged him to ask, and I was surprised to see how accepting and forgiving he is. Modest, too."
Giddy with contentment, Harry hid behind the half-open door, careful they didn't spot him. He'd heard about doting grandparents praising their grandchildren way too much. Most grandchildren were irritated by it, or took it for granted, but not Harry. It was a wonderful feeling.
"He is," confirmed Skyrah in a fragile voice. He supposed she had used all her strength in the Final Battle.
"Andraste," started Severus, in a tone Harry's seldom heard. Dad's nervous, he realized. "May I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"Is what you discussed with him related to Voldemort?"
"Some of it. Why?"
Harry frowned, as curious and confused as Andraste.
"There's something I've never told him, something that has to do with Voldemort. I was afraid Harry would stop… loving me if he found out about that part in my life. Nonetheless, my duty is to tell him if we want to make the adoption official."
"Harry will handle whatever you need to tell him well. He is mature for his age, I gathered as much from our chat. I regret not being more honest with my daughters."
"Mum," started Dione.
"You found out about the other babies because of Tom. I should've told you."
"It's forgiven," assured Dione. Harry could imagine Dione touching Andraste's arm, or holding her hand. Her voice was like a gentle caress. "Right?"
"Right," said Skyrah. "I was quite pushy about that. I'm sorry, Mum."
Before the conversation grew darker, Harry stepped into the bedroom. Andraste and Dione were sitting on transfigured chairs. Corbin was seated between his parents, on the bed. The expectant silence that followed upon his entrance made Corbin raise his head. Harry should've said good morning, acknowledged them all somehow. His gaze, however, was glued to the toddler. Just looking at his little brother, made his heart soar in delight. Corbin had grown up so much and looked even more like Severus if that was even possible.
"Kiddo," started Harry, approaching the bed. "Do you remember me?"
Corbin crawled towards him, finding that easier than walking on the bed, and hissed. Harry's shoulders dropped. Night after night in the tent, Harry had dreamed about a world in which he didn't have to die, and he could meet Corbin again. He'd envisioned Corbin running towards him to hug him tight, all of that while beaming at Harry.
"Harry, is anything the matter?" wondered Severus.
"I thought he'd remember me."
Initially, a frown settled on Skyrah's face. Her eyes shifted from her oldest to her youngest son. It took her only a few seconds to realize what was going on. "Sweetheart, I think you may have lost your ability to understand Parseltongue."
Oh.
Harry had been so caught up in his pain that he hadn't noticed Corbin was bouncing at the sight of Harry alone, putting his arms up to be held. Wasting no more time, Harry picked up his brother. For having such small arms, Corbin's hugs sure were fierce and strong, and so full of warmth. Something moist stuck to his cheek. It took him a moment to realize it was Corbin leaving kisses on it. Oh, Merlin. How had he carried on without this child? Harry closed his eyes, reveling in the pleasant sensation in his chest. He had missed these gusts of affection, those large eyes, and that sunny smile. No more blowing kisses and separating mirrors. Now he got the real thing.
At the sound of more hisses, Harry darted Skyrah a lost look. Immediately after, Harry witnessed mother and son interact in a language he had forgotten. For the first time, he knew what Severus might feel like: a bit left out yet strangely fascinated. When Harry had first learned what a Parselmouth was and the reputation they had in the Wizarding World had, he hadn't been particularly enthusiastic to learn he was one. Now that he had lost the skill, he wasn't enthusiastic about it either. The rare skill had made him feel like he truly belonged to this family. It had linked him to the mother and brother he had wanted to have, and it had become their language of choice when communicating with Corbin through the two-way mirror.
When Corbin attempted to say his name in English, even if he still couldn't articulate the letter R, Harry felt the blood, sweat, and tears had been worth it if only for this moment.
"I missed you so much, you and Mum and Dad and Dione. Did you know we're brothers now? I'll be the best big brother you could have asked for. I promise I'll always protect you. I love you."
"Love you," parroted Corbin.
Harry's eyes widened. He turned his head to his parents as if asking them if he had heard Corbin well. A knowing smile from Severus and a weak nod from Skyrah were their replies. There was so much joy inside Harry he could only let it out by squeezing Corbin tight and letting out a hearty laugh.
"I love you too, Kiddo. Say it again. I love you."
"Love you!" Corbin chirped with an adorable grin.
Harry kissed his nose, making his little brother giggle. A big grin appeared on Skyrah's face as she laid her head on Severus's shoulder. Severus himself was looking at his sons proudly.
"Dlaw?" asked Corbin, tugging on Harry's T-shirt collar.
"Of course. I hope you don't mind my having a snack while you teach me your drawing techniques – Dad showed me one of your latest masterpieces. Grandma Andy, are you joining us?"
"Certainly!" she exclaimed with a smile that rejuvenated her whole face, already de-transfiguring the chair to its original form: a lamp Harry hadn't noticed was missing from Severus's nightstand.
Harry turned to Dione. "We need a photographer."
"I'd love to take photos of all of you, but…" Dione glanced at the Snapes meaningfully.
"I think my parents would appreciate some time alone."
"Harry," said Severus. "None of you bother us."
"You still need to rest. I promise we'll be back soon to show you our work of art," he teased.
Severus snorted, but the corner of his mouth was twitching into a smile he was attempting to suppress.
Corbin tugged on Harry's collar again, as if asking him to hurry up. His granny and auntie were already descending the stairs, after all. Fussy little lad, thought Harry fondly.
Before following their suit, Harry looked at his dad and told him, "I overheard you earlier. My grandmother was right. Nothing you tell me will make me change my mind about you. This family is the best thing that's ever happened to me."
Dione, Andraste, and Corbin had just left with a property agent that would show them several options to live in someday in the future. It was their way to give the Snapes the space and privacy they were entitled to have throughout the upcoming conversation Severus was so nervous about. Skyrah had stayed only at his insistence (he and Harry would probably need her support, he'd argued). The three of them were seated around the circular table in the garden. There was an untouched cup of tea for each. Severus's gaze fixed on the lilies. Their smell coupled with that of roses did little to relax him.
"I won't stop loving you, Dad, whatever it is," assured Harry.
"Not even if it involves your parents' death?" he asked with a snarl, meeting his eyes at last.
Harry paled and looked at Skyrah, searching for a sign, something that told him Severus was exaggerating. Her eyes darted from face to face, not knowing whom she should worry about the most. Other than that, she was completely still.
"Voldemort killed them," said Harry in a matter-of-fact tone. "The prophecy…"
"Have you ever wondered how Voldemort learned about it in the first place?"
Was he implying…?
Harry was transported back to the time he'd begun to feel attached to the Snapes, only for Severus to return home dressed in Death Eater robes, with a bleeding Skyrah in his arms. A time when Severus had been grieving and Harry making sure his professor would eat.
"I am a Death Eater, Potter," Severus had told him, rolling his sleeve up.
Harry had given Severus a chance, intuiting there was more to it than that ugly mark of a skull and a serpent. He hadn't seen Severus as a Death Eater ever since but as a spy, someone who was constantly risking his life for the same cause that got his parents killed. Amid his growing affection and admiration for Severus, Harry had forgotten there was a time Severus had been loyal to Lord Voldemort.
"You were the one who told him," guessed Harry.
No denial came. A turmoil of emotions suffocated Harry. He didn't know what to think, what to say. He'd never imagined he'd feel the same dread he'd felt after discovering James Potter had been a bully, only now the dread was directed to his unofficial dad. Harry had gone straight to Skyrah back then. Now Harry remained seated. Although she said nothing, just looking at her was enough for him to hear her voice, as clearly as if she were pronouncing the words:
I expect you to remember the good and the bad and understand that nobody is perfect. Do not judge your father. Do not judge Severus.
Harry had followed her piece of advice ever since that incident had happened. He wouldn't stop now. Harry took a deep breath, imagining James and Lily were embracing him like the smell of lilies were doing with him.
Severus took Harry's silence as the invitation that it was and explained that he had overheard part of a conversation between Professor Trelawney and Albus, how desperate he had been to prove himself to the Dark Lord, and what he did with that piece of information. Severus was not giving excuses but telling it as it was. The more he talked, the more Harry realized how ashamed of his past-self Severus was. Granted, Severus was keeping eye contact, but he made strategic pauses, not to catch his breath but to compose himself before continuing with his tale of sins. Had James ever been ashamed of his actions? Harry wanted to believe so, even if it might have happened late in his life (or afterlife). Severus was showing him the part he loathed about his own persona, knowing he could lose the respect of someone he viewed as his son. He was doing it because he couldn't stand the thought of lying to Harry. Only for that, Harry's respect for him mounted.
"I would understand it if you decided that adoption is not ethical now that you know this. When these events occurred, my wife was younger than you are now. She had nothing to do with them. She loves you dearly, and I know you love her too. If you do not want the adoption, I will make sure to grant you space so that you can spend time with her and Corbin, and the rest of the family."
Skyrah looked at Severus with round eyes, as shocked as Harry.
"Severus, please, don't talk like that."
Her petition was ignored. Severus insisted that he wouldn't interfere with Harry's relationship with Skyrah and Corbin. He would even accept it if Harry chose to be adopted by Skyrah but not by him. Severus's pain was so intense his voice came off as strangled.
"You had no idea the prophecy referred to me."
"I still knew it referred to somebody, and I did not care. I did not care until I found out he had targeted Lily. I was a despicable man."
"That's why you went to Professor Dumbledore and became his spy… It wasn't only because you loved her. You felt guilty."
Severus gave a curt nod. "I regret what I did immensely. I haven't forgiven myself yet. I–"
"I forgive you."
Severus let out a small gasp, eyes trained on Harry's face, analyzing his expression. He barely felt Skyrah putting a hand on his arm.
"...Y-you forgive m-me?"
"That's what I said."
"Why?" he asked in awe. "I don't deserve to become your father when I'm the reason you were orphaned in the first place."
"Voldemort killed them. He'd have found out about the prophecy sooner or later. I'm thankful it was you. It led you to become a spy and, eventually, someone important in my life." Severus shook his head, unconvinced. "We all do good and bad things (Mum told me so a long time ago). They make us who we are. I like the person you are now."
"Harry…"
"I've made mistakes too. I didn't trust you about my godfather and he wound up dead, I almost got Malfoy killed, I doubted your loyalties when Professor Dumbledore died, and I didn't tell you about my plans to hunt the horcruxes. I learned from my mistakes, and so have you. You've dedicated your life to redeeming yourself, and succeeded. I want to be your son, more than anything."
A hoarse sob tore out of Severus's throat as he hid his face behind his hands, with the tip of his hooked nose visible in the middle. Even though no other sound came out of him, his shoulders shook. Skyrah began to whisper sweet nothings in his ear, rubbing his back with one hand.
"Dad, look at me." Severus obeyed, sniffling quietly and feeling rather pathetic. He hadn't shed a single tear just yet, though it looked like that wouldn't take long to happen unless Harry said something."You stopped being a Death Eater years ago. You saved me from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. You gave me a home, a bedroom of my own, a family. You taught me and protected me and confided in me and understood me. Me, the son of the one who tormented you the most. You gave me so much love, offered advice, invited me to celebrate pregnancy news, birthdays... You were there for me when I most needed you. You are my hero. Becoming a Snape is all I've wanted for years."
Severus gulped noisily. His voice was nothing but a rasp when he said, "I love you. By Merlin, I have no idea how this happened, but I truly love you."
"And I you. Thank you for telling me. You're the bravest man I know."
"That's what I keep telling your dad," added Skyrah, kissing Severus's cheek soundly. "I'm not the only one who believes you are a good man, a man worth loving."
"So it appears. I'm sorry about this, Son. I wasn't planning on causing a scene."
"It's okay. I won't tell any of your students," Harry finished in a teasing tone.
"Brat," muttered Severus, though his eyes were soft and glinting with appreciation. Even his lips had curled into the beginning of a smile. "Thank you, Harry. Lily would be proud of the man you've become."
"I could say the same about you."
They stared at each other with expressions of equal tenderness, respect, and gratitude. Skyrah didn't dare say anything, not even take a sip from her tea, lest she'd disturb them.
"I know I'm supposed to be an adult, but I'd like to live with my parents, with you, like I couldn't when I was a kid, and when I was away, at least for a while. Would you mind that?"
"No, sweetheart. We're elated to have you home. We've got a lot of catching up to do."
Harry looked at Skyrah and gave her a nod. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you. When you confronted Voldemort, you mentioned he had killed your fiancé. I'm not going to ask you to tell me about him. Dad needed time to tell me about my mother, too. I just wanted to say I'm sorry you lost him so cruelly."
Skyrah's expression saddened. She drank some tea, buying herself time to collect herself. "I'm deeply sorry, too. He was my best friend, not only my fiancé. You would have liked to meet him. I think he would have been sorted into Gryffindor, like you. Otherwise, I don't know how he was so brave to stay with me despite knowing about Voldemort and being a muggle-born himself. He had to put up with a lot of shit from me."
"He was whipped. Albeit empathy isn't one of my more distinctive traits, I find myself relating to him."
"Of course you do," Skyrah told Severus with a small laugh, eyes sparkling with adoration for him. She put a hand on his cheek, caressing it fondly. "Daniel's last wish was my happiness. You made it come true."
"I'd say you made it come true yourself."
"Together, then," she corrected Severus. "Without you, the war might not have been won. My mum and sister are safe thanks to you. Our sons. You gave me unconditional love and support. Finding happiness by your side was easy. And I know I'll be even happier in the future."
"When we marry again?"
"Mmh. And when we finally adopt Harry and make another baby."
Severus put a hand on top of hers, which was still stroking his cheek. His touch was as tender as his eyes, as the pressure of his lips on hers. Though she smiled into the kiss, he didn't stop, and took advantage of her parted lips by sweeping his tongue against hers.
"I'll leave you to making that baby," said Harry, clearing his throat.
The Snapes pulled back: Skyrah with a laugh; Severus with a fiery blush that reminded Harry of his first months in the place, with an awkward touch-seeking Severus.
"We've got time for that. I'm not fully recovered yet."
"And once she is, we have no desire of being caught being that intimate by you or anybody else for the matter," Severus assured him.
Luckily, Skyrah changed the subject by making a suggestion: updating the album. They put all the new photographs bar one.
By the time Dione, Andraste and Corbin arrived through the floo network, Severus, Skyrah, and Harry were cooking lunch. Corbin let go of his aunt's hand and rushed to the kitchen, following the smell of pork pie. He eagerly fell into Harry's arms. Skyrah held back a laugh.
"What is it?" wondered Severus.
"You said Corbin's Daddy's boy, and I said he's Mummy's boy, but it turns out he's Harry's boy."
"Harry doesn't count. We can't compete against his big brother; we're bound to lose. With that said, I must confess that Corbin, despite his affinity for Potions, is Mummy's boy."
"Oh, Severus. You've got a beautiful bond with Corbin. He looks up to you already, and adores you, and..."
He held up his palms, cutting her off gently. "I know, just like I've always known he's Mummy's boy. I only admit that now because our future child will indubitably be Daddy's girl."
"Or Daddy's boy."
"Or Daddy's boy," he repeated, kissing her forehead.
"Are you expecting yet?" asked Dione. She, like her mum, was trying not to appear too eager at the prospect and failing miserably.
"No, but we'll start trying soon," informed Severus as Harry lowered his brother onto the floor.
Corbin pounced on Skyrah next, no hesitation, which earned Skyrah an 'I-told-you-so' look from Severus.
"How's it gone?" asked Skyrah.
While Dione made a summary of the Hogsmeade cottages and Cokeworth flats they'd visited, Harry guided his grandmother to the garden, where he and his parents had left the album and the photograph yet to attach.
"I thought you'd like to add this one yourself," he explained.
When Andraste saw the photograph, she put a hand on her chest, touched.
Nobody was missing in 'The Snape Family' album anymore.
…
A/N: Remember to check "A Tale of Two Crows" and follow me as an author (or follow that fic) if you don't wish to miss any updates.