Sorry people, but with the heat wave, I forgot to post the chapter! I am really not made for the heat! (That said, when it's cold, I hibernate, it's not better!)
I hope you enjoy this chapter. I do not have a new chapter yet, but les Varioufs are working on it as much as possible.
I hope that the return is well spent, for those who had one and you have not suffered too much at work for those who were not on vacation this summer!
With that, I leave you with the chapter.
Good reading!
.
.
"Oh, Merlin…"
"Breathe, Harry."
"Oh, Merlin…"
Dementia reached out to Harry, who recoiled. She bit her lip, hurt.
"Harry-"
"Does Sirius know?" he interrupted.
Not trusting herself to speak, Demi nodded.
"So this is why Mrs Weasley doesn't like you! Everyone knew! Everyone except me!"
"It was already difficult for you to become part of the family, and I didn't want to make it worse. It didn't seem that important…" Demi whispered.
The bell signalling the start of lessons rang at the exact same moment that Harry exploded.
"Not that important? NOT THAT IMPORTANT?! YOU'RE BELLATRIX LESTRANGE'S DAUGHTER! THE WOMAN WHO SENT ONE OF MY BEST FRIEND'S PARENTS ON THE FAST TRACK TO ST MUNGO'S!"
"I know," Demi murmured. "I'll tell you everything I know, Harry – everything you want to know – but you have to calm down."
"CALM DOWN? YOU'RE THE DAUGHTER OF A BLOODY DEATH EATER, HOW CAN I CALM DOWN?!"
"Go to your lesson and then come back afterwards. I promise I'll tell you everything. Umbridge is watching you and she got Fudge to make her High Inquisitor – you can't afford to miss lessons!"
Harry stared at her for several seconds before slamming out of the bathroom, while Dementia leaned against the nearest stall's door, her stomach still roiling.
Lost in thought, the young man made his way to the dungeons. By the time he arrived in front of the potions classroom door, he was a good fifteen minutes late. He wiped his hand over his face as if to wipe away his paleness and walked in, forgetting to knock.
"20 points from Gryffindor," Snape snapped, not looking at Harry.
Harry didn't respond and instead sat at his desk, ignoring his friends' questioning looks. Merlin, how could he ever look Neville in the eye again now that he knew who his sister's mother was? Now he knew why she looked familiar. It wasn't really the obvious resemblance to Bellatrix Lestrange that had bothered him; he had seen Lestrange in Dumbledore's pensieve the previous year before the old wizard had explained who she was, what she had done and how she was related to Sirius and the Malfoys. No, what had bothered him about Demi was an older memory from the previous summer during the Quidditch World Cup… The shape of her eyes… her straight nose… the way she lifted her head haughtily when something displeased her… How could he have forgotten who it was? How could he have not understood when he got back to Hogwarts and saw another wizard with the same eyes? He had seen them next to each other! Could he really have been so blinded by their different eye colours?
Harry shook his head to clear the image of Narcissa Malfoy, which was blurring into that of Dementia. It seemed so obvious now…
He managed to stay quiet for a short while longer before his control snapped and he scoffed, making the entire room jump. "When were you going to tell me?"
Snape shot him a cold look and raised a questioning eyebrow at him, making Harry's anger increase tenfold.
"Stop looking at me like that and answer me!"
Snape stood brusquely and flicked his wand, and a series of questions appeared on one of the room's blackboards.
"Get out your parchment," he ordered. "You have one hour! You," he added, pointing at his son, "my office, immediately!"
Harry hesitated. He hadn't been alone with Snape since…
The Potions Master grabbed his arm, interrupting his thoughts, and dragged him none-too-gently to the door leading to his office. When Snape followed him in, closed the door behind them and placed a silencing charm on the room, Harry paled and quickly stepped back. Snape lifted his hand in a sign of peace.
"I'm not going to hit you, Harry."
His voice was much softer now that they were alone. He directed Harry towards a sofa at the back of the room and made him sit down before he took a seat on a chair facing him.
"Breathe deeply, Harry… Merlin, you're about to have a panic attack. What's going on?"
"You lied to me."
"I lied to you?"
"Dementia… you… Sirius… everyone."
"Oh," murmured Snape, understanding. "I didn't lie to you Harry. I just didn't tell you something that didn't involve you and which wasn't important."
"Wasn't important?" Harry interrupted, incredulous.
Had Dementia told him to say that? Did they really think that his sister being the daughter of the biggest supporter of the man who had tried to kill him since he was born wasn't important? Well he didn't agree! It was important! He had the right to know something like that! It would be like finding out that the Potions Master had the Dark Mark after he had adopted him!
"No," Snape's deep voice continued. "It wasn't important. It doesn't change who Demi is or what she's like. She barely knew her mother, Harry – she didn't raise her."
"But…" moaned Harry.
"No. We'll talk about it later, straight after lessons. With Dementia."
"I think I'm going to be sick."
Snape immediately grabbed his arm and pushed him into a small bathroom. Harry had just enough time to lean over the toilet before his stomach decided to empty itself. He felt Snape hovering behind him while he stood and washed out his mouth in the sink, and then the latter put a hand to Harry's forehead.
"What's happening to me?" groaned Harry.
"Nothing," Snape sighed. "It's just the shock. Dementia always had the same sort of reaction when something overwhelmed her."
He rummaged around in his cupboard and held out a vial to Harry before pushing him firmly towards the sofa.
"Swallow this, calm down and come back to class. I'm lifting the silencing charm," he warned before walking out.
Alone, Harry sniffed the contents of the vial, looking disgusted. He felt sick again but, thinking that the cure couldn't be worse than this, he swallowed the potion in one gulp. The nausea increased at the revolting taste, and for a moment he thought he would throw up again. Then, just as quickly, the potion started to work and he stopped heaving.
Harry sat at his father's desk, intending to recover there for a few minutes before going back into the classroom. He crossed his arms on the desk, laid his head on his arms, and fell asleep.
Ten minutes later, the door opened and the professor, who wanted to see what was keeping Harry, stepped through. He sighed when he noticed that the boy was asleep, half annoyed and half worried. For a moment he considered the idea of waking him up by slapping the back of his head, but decided against it and went back into the classroom without a word.
Hermione and Ron exchanged worried looks. Once the hour was up, Snape walked around the classroom collecting their parchments. When he got to Ron and Hermione, he stopped.
"Mr Weasley, please go and get Harry from my office."
"Yes, Professor."
Worried about what he would find, Ron walked into the Potions Professor's office and immediately felt relieved when he noticed that Harry was simply asleep.
He walked up to his friend and shook him gently. "Hey! Mate!"
Harry startled awake. "What! What?"
"Professor Snape asked me to get you. What's going on?"
"I'll tell you later."
Rubbing his eyes, he followed Ron into the potions classroom. Snape raised an eyebrow at him.
"Feeling better?"
Harry nodded. Snape continued the lesson and discreetly kept his eye on the young man's potion, suspecting that he would find it more than difficult to concentrate under the circumstances. However, thanks to Hermione's vigilance and help, nothing catastrophic happened.
At the end of the lesson, Harry didn't move and told Ron and Hermione that he would join them later.
Once all the students had gone, a heavy silence fell upon the room. Harry rested his head on his arms while Snape sat lost in thought. Demi walked in twenty minutes later.
"Let's go to our rooms," Snape sighed, really not looking forward to the conversation.
Even though he understood that Harry had a right to know about the family he was now a part of, he had to admit that he had hoped he would never have to explain the circumstances surrounding Dementia's birth. Either to Harry, or to his daughter. Happy with the family that had raised her, the young girl had never asked to know anything more about her biological mother than the few memories that she had of her. When she was a teenager, she had followed Bellatrix's trial and, horrified, had never wanted to talk about her again, which had suited Snape. With Bellatrix safe and sound in prison (metaphorically speaking of course, since Azkaban wasn't exactly famous for being comfortable), he hadn't thought about it again. Her escape was bringing everything to light again.
They walked there in silence, with Harry voluntarily walking a few metres behind the adults.
It only took them a couple of minutes to reach the Potions Master's rooms. Snape settled into his armchair while his children sat on the sofa, as far away from each other as possible.
"How should we do this?" Snape asked wearily. "Do you have any questions?"
"How? Why? I don't know…" Harry sighed.
"And," Dementia interrupted, "could you tell the whole story? Without stopping? We'll ask our questions afterwards."
"We?" Harry asked, shocked.
"I don't know some things either," she replied, shrugging.
Snape poured himself a large glass of Firewhisky and took several sips before breathing in deeply and starting his explanation.
"I think it will be easier for you to understand if I tell you about what was happening at the time. It was 1976 and the Dark Lord was becoming more and more famous. Most people talked about him. Everyone was scared for their families. Whether they were the children of Muggles, had mixed blood or were pureblood, no family was safe from attack.
We were safe at Hogwarts, but we were very aware that, once we were outside, we would be thrust into the middle of the danger.
I was fifteen and had just passed my OWLs. I had always been a bit of a loner but became more so in that year. After a terrible fight, I had fallen out with my only friend and the relationship couldn't be fixed. I was always getting into fights with Black and Potter."
Harry sat up straighter when he heard the names of his father and godfather. Snape dismissed this part of his life with a wave of his hand and swallowed some more Firewhisky, trying to gather his thoughts and memories so that he could tell them a story that wasn't too disjointed.
"Thanks to special dispensation from Albus, I was able to pass a potions exam that gave me one of the three degrees necessary to obtain the title of Potions Master. An article was written about me in a potions magazine that of course went totally unnoticed. Or at least, so I thought. It was at least true that 99% of the students had missed it.
During the evenings I did my homework and prepared for my second degree for my Potions Master title in a quiet corner of the common room, where I could watch without being seen.
One group in particular interested me; several students who gathered around the Head Boy, Lucius Malfoy, and his best friend, Rodolphus Lestrange. Everyone knew that they would receive the Mark at the end of the year, and this forced all the Slytherins to respect them. Albus knew about it too, of course, but without proof he couldn't do anything. So they were the small group that ran Slytherin, and had many admirers but kept to themselves. Apart from Lucius and Rodolphus, there were a few sixth years, most notably McNair and Dolohov, as well as Rabastan Lestrange, the brother of Rodolphus and Narcissa Black, who was Lucius's girlfriend and went everywhere with him.
And there was Bellatrix…"
Snape stopped for a moment. For once, Dementia was quiet as a mouse and Harry was gaping like a fish out of water.
"Bellatrix," Snape continued thoughtfully, "was also in 7th year and she was… what's the word… mind-boggling. She had a caustic sense of humour, a laugh that could make your hair stand on end, and an impossible personality. She wasn't exactly sweetness and light - she was constantly getting into violent arguments with Lucius. It was also common knowledge that she was engaged to Rodolphus, though they weren't seen together. I found her talented, intoxicating and extremely attractive. Of course, she never looked at the poor 5th year that I was and I was never brave enough to talk to her.
There were only two weeks left in the school year.
With hindsight, I now know that at least one student had read this article and had talked to someone about it."
"Voldemort," Harry murmured.
Two shivers and two glaring sets of eyes followed this announcement. Harry shrank back into his corner of the sofa with a small apologetic movement. Snape sighed and carried on with his story.
"Anyway, long story short, two weeks before the end of the year, Lucius came to see me. He gave me a long, convoluted speech about how my skills shouldn't be used by just anyone, about Slytherin honour, power and respect… He was very convincing, but I didn't want to serve anyone. I dreamed of recognition, but didn't see any glory in living on my knees. I simply told Lucius I would think about it and left the common room, but noticed Bellatrix shooting Lucius a look.
Outside, I managed to get into a violent fight with Black and Potter, as usual. I don't even remember what it was about. I had just managed to disarm Black when Potter, after floating magnificently over the grass, landed in the lake.
I span around and saw Bellatrix turning on her heel and putting her wand away. The same evening, she came and sat next to me in the empty common room. We both read our books and didn't talk.
Finally, she got up to go to her dormitory. Just before she left, she murmured: 'Good night, Severus.' I didn't sleep all night.
The next day, she asked me about the book I was reading. The day after that, she pretended she was cold and huddled against me.
It was going too quickly – much too quickly to be real. But I was 15, I was in love, and Hogwarts would soon have been just a memory for Bella.
I didn't see anything coming."
Snape stood and poured himself another glass. He wondered if it was a good idea to tell them everything, but then realised that if Bella got in contact with Dementia, she wouldn't be so delicate with the details. He sat in the armchair, swallowed a mouthful of the amber liquid and started the penultimate part of the story.
"We kissed every night for a few days before the school year ended. Three days after I got home, I received an owl from Bella telling me that her sister and parents had gone to her aunt's and that she wanted to see me. My mother was delighted and before you could say Veritaserum I was at the Black house. And two days later, I was in her bed."
Harry suddenly had a coughing fit and Snape shot him a mocking half smile.
"It lasted for a whole week before her parents said they were coming back. She came to see me two weeks later. She looked strange, almost uncomfortable. And then she told me she was pregnant. It was scary. I was only 15, I was still at Hogwarts. She was 17 and about to get married. She told me that she didn't expect anything of me, that I should finish my studies. Then before she left she told me that the baby would be born in the end of February, the start of March at the latest."
"What? But I was born at the end of March," Dementia protested.
"I know. You were even late for your own birth!"
Once Harry had stopped laughing nervously and Dementia had stopped sulking, Severus continued.
"There's no point talking about the pregnancy and the birth – I wasn't there. I was at Hogwarts and regularly received letters from her – she reminded me that she didn't expect anything of me but described in detail everything that was happening, from the first kick that she felt to the dreams she had, where a young girl with brown hair threaded pearls together."
Harry raised his eyebrows incredulously and Snape explained.
"Witches often have dreams that reveal the sex of their baby. I may not have seen Bella since she had told me she was pregnant, but I already knew that I would be having a little girl. She wrote to tell me about the birth. And although the name she chose made me grimace, I couldn't stop staring at the photo. I even punched Black and broke his nose when he tried to take it off me. I decided that I would call you Demi," he added, looking at his daughter, "because it seemed less strange to me.
A few weeks after you were born, she came to Hogwarts, in the middle of dinner, and pressed you into my arms. It was the first time I had really seen you. She told me that she had to get married and I had to look after you for a bit. Then she disappeared. Narcissa took you from me and cuddled you until you realised your mother had gone. You took in a deep breath and started yelling. Narcissa put you back into my arms and you stopped.
But I couldn't put you down for a second. You refused to let me leave you and you screamed at the top of your lungs if I ever tried to put you in your crib. I spent almost a week clutching you in my arms.
Then Bella came back. When you saw her you laughed for the first time. She promised me that I would see you again soon if I wanted.
Sometime later, I wrote to her and asked if she could bring you to Hogsmeade the following weekend. She came alone. When I asked where you were she said she wanted to talk to me first. She took me to a quiet spot and showed me her Dark Mark."
Snape absently rubbed his own Dark Mark.
"She didn't leave me any choice. Either I joined up as soon as I left Hogwarts and Dementia Black would become Dementia Snape, or I refused and she would take you away and Rodolphus would raise you and become the official father."
"So you did it…" murmured Demi.
"Demi, I have regretted many things in my life. But I have never regretted knowing you, despite the consequences."
"And what happened next?" Harry interrupted sharply. Demi looked at him in surprise and Snape gave him a sharp look, but he finished his story anyway.
"When I finally received the Mark, Bellatrix started doing more missions in the field while I stayed in the lab and looked after you. Then, Draco was born and Narcissa looked after you – you were ecstatic to have a friend and treated him like a living doll. Sixteen months later, Harry, you defeated the Dark Lord and Bella was arrested shortly afterwards. Albus exonerated me by revealing I was a spy. He offered me the position of Potions Professor and I spent a horrible summer trying to convince a really very stubborn five year old girl that she would love living with Charlus and Isabelle."
"I didn't want to?"
"You wanted your mother. You didn't see her a lot, and never as a Death Eater. You were much too young for her to start introducing you to that. In fact, you only saw her when you had your bath and went to bed. You didn't really know who she was. She might be mad and bloodthirsty, but she behaved like any other mother around you."
"Can I go?" Harry asked suddenly.
Snape frowned but agreed and watched as Harry left without further ado.
"So I was only bait," Demi murmured.
"I would have joined anyway, for her. She knew that. She kept you because she wanted that."
Dementia nodded vaguely. "I need some time to digest this. I think I'll go to bed."
Demi stood and headed for her bedroom. She stopped at the door. "Dad?"
"Yes?"
"Do you think Aunt Cissy knows where Mum is?"
"Probably. Lucius definitely knows and it is highly likely that he told his wife."
Dementia hesitated again. "Dad?"
"What?"
"Do you regret adopting Harry?"
"No. Absolutely not."
"Then maybe you should tell him that."
Dementia disappeared into her room without waiting for an answer. Snape stayed where he was, staring at the door the young woman had just gone through. Things were still tense between him and Harry. He didn't think the boy really was interested in whether or not he regretted the adoption. Perhaps it was time to talk to his son…
He sighed and leaned back in his armchair. He wasn't exactly a mind healer; he was more than in his element when he talked about discipline, authority and rules, but when it came to emotions… He had only rarely told his daughter how much she meant to him and had practically never done that since she was a teenager.
He had needed two glasses of Firewhisky just to get to the end of his story, for Merlin's sake. He looked at the bottle and decided that, under the circumstances, he could allow himself to have a third glass. Demi must be asleep by now. Harry was probably in the common room. He would talk to him later. It wasn't urgent.
oOo
"You can't be serious," Neville said in a toneless voice.
"I am," Harry sighed.
"But she's nice!"
"That's because she doesn't know her," Hermione said gently. "Cruelty isn't genetic, it's all about how you're raised. Dementia probably doesn't remember anything about her mother anymore."
"Anyway, she's in a right state," Harry explained. "She's shaken and scared. But now that that crazy woman has broken out I had to tell you. I didn't want you – especially you, Nev – to find out if she sent a howler or if it was on the front page."
Hermione and Ron nodded solemnly. Neville staggered slightly as he got to his feet.
"Thanks Harry. Don't worry, I know your sister had nothing to do with anything, but I have to write to my grandmother."
Harry nodded and grasped the hand that his friend offered him, relieved that he had taken this so well. He wasn't sure if he would have reacted so well if it had been him.
"It was good of you to tell him, Harry," Hermione murmured. "He could have reacted badly if he'd heard about it from someone else."
Harry nodded.
There were several knocks on the door and Hermione looked pointedly at Ron without saying a word. The redhead sighed and rolled his eyes as he went to open the door.
Professor Snape walked into the room, his expression sombre.
"Harry, can we talk?"
"Er… yeah," Harry replied, surprised.
"Since Dementia is sleeping like a log in her room, perhaps we should go to my office."
"Ok."
Harry stood and followed his father. A few minutes later, they were in the office next to the potions classroom.
"So, explain it to me," Snape said.
"Explain what?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Your reaction, your interruptions, the fact that you were irritated by Demi's story."
"I wasn't irritated!"
"Well you did a good job of looking it! It was almost as good as Demi's impression of the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland."
Harry's eyes widened at the reference to muggle literature and Snape smiled in amusement. "Well?"
Harry sighed. "It's nothing - and it has nothing to do with Demi, or the psychotic madwoman she has as a mother…"
"A fitting description, Mr Potter," Snape said, smiling. "On a more serious note, Harry, something has upset you – that much is obvious."
"It's nothing."
"Harry…"
"It's nothing, ok… It's stupid. It's just… I'd like a father too."
"I'm your father, Harry."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Harry," Snape sighed, "I know where this is going… No-one can give you back your childhood, not me or Black… But I think you idealise my relationship with Demi too much. What I mean is that I was never a father like Potter was or like Arthur Weasley probably was. Your sister spent the first years of her life surrounded by Death Eaters and in the company of that ice queen Narcissa Malfoy. Or at least, the ice queen that she became after her marriage… Believe me when I say that it wasn't all cuddles and chatting; she was very isolated. I only used to watch her out of the corner of my eye while I was making potions and I think that she always had a deeper relationship with her toy owl than she did with her mother or me."
Harry nodded and asked his father if he could go. He didn't have any intention to talk about how he felt and he was uneasy about talking to the Potions Master like this. Snape nodded, but as soon as Harry was about to step through the door, Snape's voice stopped him.
"I didn't think it needed to be explained, but obviously I was wrong. I don't regret adopting you Harry, in fact quite the opposite. I am what I am, but I'm happy to have you as a son."
Harry smiled. "Thanks."
He left without waiting for a response. He couldn't stop smiling all the way back to his common room. The weight that had settled on his shoulders when he had learned about his sister's mother had just been lifted.