Harry's mind reeled as he led back on the less than comfortable hospital bed. Why had Snape told him this? Reflecting, he realised he'd never actually spoken to the man outside of an educational setting, so maybe he was just a little less caustic outside of term time? He shook his head. No. The professor had put him through three years of hell, he wasn't getting over it that quickly. With that, exhaustion from his ordeal overtook him and he fell into a fitful slumber.
Meanwhile, the cause of his distress was having a similar mental debate. What had he been thinking? The Potter boy was clearly going to have a field day with the information, while he might not spread it around, he would still know and that was more than enough. But he was not the spoilt brat he had thought him to be, and didn't that make Severus quake in his boots. He'd been targeting an abused child. He had been trying to take down a boy who had less self esteem than Peter-fucking-Pettigrew. He was a monster. He knew he'd finely cultivated a reputation of being a heartless bastard but surely, he wasn't quite that much of an arse? Gods, he needed a drink or ten.
All too soon, the next day arrived. Then the next. Harry lived in a haze of naps, pain, dreamless sleep, and an endless cycle of guilty looking professors. The one he (surprisingly) most wanted to see, however, didn't show for a full week. When the potions master did arrive, it was a somewhat more awkward conversation than Harry had imagined.
Snape moved towards the door of his chambers in a blaze of righteous indignation, fuelled by his own foul mood and a roaring hangover. That fucking child had managed not only to convince him he was a pampered prince full of celebrity self obsession, but in a truly slytherin move worthy of the professor himself had managed to enrage Snape to the point he never looked any closer than he had to. And he had fallen for it. He was furious. However, he worked through it as he made the long walk to the hospital wing, and managed to cool off almost entirely by the time he reached the doors. That recovery ended rather swiftly however as he opened said doors, and found that the child on Harry's bed looked like the spitting image of a 14 year old Severus.
Harry looked up to see his Potions professor swing open the hospital wing doors, take one look at him, and turn immediately to enter madame Pomfrey's office. He then heard his generally stoic professor utter the most confusing, rambling sentence he'd ever come across, but the meaning of which could be boiled down to "Why in the name of fuck is there a 14 year old me in the hospital wing?". Harry felt a shock of adrenaline as he realised he was the only person Snape could be referring to, and clambered out of the bed to find the nearest mirror. He glanced in, and was horrified to see that the changes he'd seen over his short lived summer had developed somewhat.
His face had narrowed further, and his nose taken on a more roman shape than previously. His eyes remained their piercing green, but his eyebrows had thickened and his brow become more pronounced, which only served to make the colour more striking. He was taller, that was for certain, and he noticed that he had a more willowy build than his previous stockier shape. Finishing up his assessment, he found he was a little paler, but that could easily be contributed to his stay in the hospital wing. Harry sat back onto the bed with a huff of air. This was not going to be a fun term, because he could reach only one conclusion. His mother had a hell of a lot of explaining to do. And Snape was not going to be happy.
Harry was correct. The potions master was not happy at all. However, while Harry was terrified of Snape rejecting him, Snape was far more angry that his parenthood had been kept from him. He could have had that child out of Petunia's house far sooner, but no, someone had gone and applied fucking concealment charms all over the child! For no good bloody reason!
"Poppy, to conclude, what in the name of arse is going on, and why in the hell didn't you tell me sooner?"
The matron of the hospital wing stayed silent a moment, waiting to see if Severus would continue. "Because, professor, I hadn't noticed. Quite frankly, I've been more worried about keeping Mr. Potter alive for the past week, and the changes must've come in exceedingly slowly as I truly didn't realise until you pointed it out. It is definitely obvious now that you have brought it to my attention, and to be honest, I don't see the point in the paternity charm you mentioned, he really is the spitting image of you! We'll do it for formality's sake though."
They continued to discuss the nature of charms that could have such effects as they moved towards Harry's bed, and watched him a moment as he stared into the mirror from across the room. "Noticed then, Potter?" asked Severus, watching to try and assess his reaction.
Harry turned to see that they'd left the office. Arching his brow, he looked at the Professor and muttered "Not quite sure that Mr Potter is as accurate as it used to be, but yeah, I've noticed. Care to explain?"
"Well then, Harry, I'd say that your appearance explains itself. However, Madame Pomfrey has kindly agreed to perform a paternity charm to formalise our conclusions. We will assess the situation further after she has done so. Is that arrangement acceptable?"
A little stunned and more than a little confused, Harry nodded. He had just been asked whether something was okay, by the bat of the dungeons. He was speaking politely, and called him BY HIS FIRST NAME. If he wasn't still in pain, he'd be pinching his arm to check that he wasn't dreaming. Or, seeing as there was prospect for Snape being his father, having a nightmare.
He sat as Madame Pomfrey began casting and prayed to whatever deity out there was listening that the result would show that this was one hell of a Weasley Twins prank. There was a little bit of him however, that wondered whether it would really be so bad.