A/N: Um.. yeah. This is getting kind of brutal. Not for the faint of heart. Severus is ashamed and disgusted, and he's related to Harry. So what would others' reactions be? ::nods::


Harry trudged towards the dungeons just before the Halloween feast. At that moment, no one knew of the article but himself, his father, Ron, Hermione, and, of course, Justin. Harry fully intended to enjoy what could be his last peaceful meal for a time. First, though, he had to visit his father.

He reached the office door and knocked. The door opened slightly, and Harry stuck his head in. he called softly, but there was no answer. Then something caught his eye on his father's desk – a letter, with his name on it. Frowning, Harry crossed the room and pocketed the letter, taking it with him to the main stairs, where he sat and opened it.


Harry,

While you probably feel that we should have some sort of talk or bonding moment over the betrayal you feel over the article, et cetera, let this letter serve notice that nothing of the sort will be happening. I could put aside some of the more odious aspects of your personality, such as being a Gryffindor, but this – Harry, you are asking an awful lot of me. Too much, too soon.

I suggest it would be wise if we did not see each other over much over the next few weeks. I will contact you when I am ready to talk. However, I am kind enough not to repudiate you in public; rest assured that my public persona will not be noticeably altered.

If you find my words harsh... well... they are far less harsh that what I yelled when I finished that disgusting article.

Severus Snape


Harry winced, and his face visibly crumpled. He had finally found a father, some semblance of a family, and now it was to be taken away from him, and over something he truly had no choice in. Afraid that his face would betray his pain, he hastened to the boys' room that was near by, and locked himself into the far stall, where he quietly cried out his pain. Life, it seemed, just kept getting worse and worse for him.


Some time later, he emerged from the room and went to the Hall for the Halloween Feast that was just about to start. Hermione and Ron had saved him a seat, and he sank into it gratefully.

What happened? Hermione hissed in his ear.

Harry frowned. He wasn't there, but he left a letter.

Ron winced. That can't be good.

No. No, it wasn't, Harry agreed heavily. Here. You two might as well read it yourselves.

The pair scanned the letter quickly, Hermione winced, and Ron let out a low under his breath.

Ouch is right, Harry said. I can hardly wait until the news starts hitting the rest of Hogwarts, if my father reacts like this.



Unfortunately for Harry, he was right.

The next morning at breakfast, Draco saw a familiar owl – his father's – come in with a... magazine? Draco was confused, until he turned to the marked page. As he scanned the article, he realised what the scene in the hallway yesterday had been about. It was relatively clear what, precisely, he was supposed to do – spread the word around Hogwarts that Harry Snape was queer. Complicating his mission was that he himself was bisexual, so he really didn't feel like insulting gay people. Scowling, he settled for leaving the magazine open on the Slytherin table when he left the Hall. That would do the job, and he wouldn't feel like he was slamming himself.

Harry heard whispers just before lunch, in Care for Magical Creatures. It was, somewhat surprisingly to Harry, not Malfoy that approached him, however. Instead, it was Pansy Parkinson, who timed her confrontation carefully – no Gryffindors besides himself and Ron close by, but most of the Slytherins could hear her.

So? Is it true, the Boy Who Lived is a pouf?

Harry stiffened, then looked at her directly. Are you asking me if I'm gay? he said quietly. If so, then the answer is yes, I am gay.

Her eyes widened; Harry let himself smile inwardly as he realised she had expected him to grow angry or deny it altogether.

After a minute, though, Pansy regained her equilibrium. I wonder what your daddy thinks of that, she said snidely. Bad enough to find out he sired a Gryffindor, but now his only son, his bastard son, is queer, too.

Harry's face darkened, and it was only Ron whispering ignore her, ignore her, ignore her under his breath that kept him from getting angry. The problem with her taunt was that it hit all too close to home. Pansy smiled then, a cruel, knowing smile, and turned on her heel and walked away.

At lunch, the magazine was dropped onto the Ravenclaw table, as it had made the rounds with most of Slytherin House by that point. The Ravenclaws passed the article around, and Harry began to get odd looks and glances from that direction as well. Harry sighed as he left the Hall. He had to run back to Gryffindor Tower to get some more parchment before his afternoon classes.

He was on his way out of Gryffindor, headed to History of Magic, when it happened. Rough hands grabbed the back of his robes, hauling him into a darkened, abandoned classroom. Then the first punches were thrown, and he was on the floor, the recipient of several kicks to his torso and groin. His attackers growled out a few common-variety slurs against gays, then left suddenly when footsteps were heard in the corridors. Harry stood up shakily and peered cautiously out of the doorway. No one was in the hall. Good. Luckily, the boys' washroom was just two doors down, and Harry crept painfully down the hall to its door. He closed the door and put a locking spell on it before turning to assess the damage.

Torn robe – mending charm. Check. Torn jumper, again, mending charm. Check. Black eye. Hmm. Harry didn't know any healing charms to speak of. Ah. Illusion charm. He'd ask Hermione for help later, maybe, with healing it. He cast the same illusion charm over his split lip, and then rearranged his hair so he didn't look like he had been lying on the floor getting beat up. He was pretty sure that if he told anyone about the attack, that things would only get worse, and if he went to Madam Pomfrey, she would have to tell Professor Dumbledore, or at the very least Professor McGonagall, as his Head of House. Or, Harry thought sourly, she'd tell my father, and I'd have to talk to him, which definitely wouldn't be a good plan at this point. Sighing, Harry glanced at his watch. He had just enough time to get to History of Magic – although the old ghost rarely took off points.

Harry slid into his seat just before Binns began to lecture, and Ron raised his eyebrows questioningly as Hermione hissed at Harry. Where have you been? she whispered furiously.

Harry shook his head, mouthing tell you later as he got out his parchment and quill. If he was going to be a disappointment in so many other ways, then he might as well try to get decent marks, he supposed.

Immediately after Binns finished lecturing, Hermione and Ron turned to him. Why were you late? Hermione asked. You should have had plenty of time!

Ah, let's go someplace private, Harry replied. The trio quickly found an empty classroom. Harry dropped himself carefully into one of the seats, then pointed his wand at himself and removed the illusion charms. I was busy getting beaten up, then trying to clean myself up.

His friends gasped when his injuries revealed themselves. Oh, Harry, Hermione said, stricken, and Ron's face clouded with anger.

Do you know who did this? he said shortly.

Harry replied with a heavy sigh. And I have the feeling that reporting it to one of the teachers would only make things worse. Don't go blaming the Slytherins either – they don't know what my dad's reaction would be, and by now the whole school could have seen the article.

Ron frowned, then nodded. You're right. They wouldn't want to cross Snape, at least not until they had a better idea of what he would do or say. I doubt it was a Gryffindor, though; I'd hate to think someone from your own house would do this to you.

I'd hate to think anyone at Hogwarts would do this to Harry, Hermione said in a resigned tone, but that was obviously too much to hope for. She turned to Harry. I can heal your lip and your eye. Do you have any other injuries? I'll have to see them.

Grimacing, Harry nodded and undid his robes before removing his jumper and pulling up his undershirt to reveal several splotchy bruises on his chest and abdomen. He heard a sharp intake of breath from Hermione before she began murmuring the healing charms over him. When she was done, she straightened and sighed. You can put your clothes back on now. Really, you should go and rest, but if you miss a class, it will just make things worse, I wager. Luckily we only have Transfiguration left.

Ron said suddenly. Can you start to carry Ananda around, at least when you have to walk by yourself? I know she can't attack anyone, but her very presence would at least be a surprise.

Harry started to nod, but then frowned. It's a good idea, but if they figure out that she won't attack, it could get her hurt or killed.

Ron gasped. You think... you really think that someone would do that to her?

Ron, she's a snake. The symbol of Slytherin House, remember? That makes the Slytherins mad that I'm a parselmouth, and the rest of the school angry that it might be an evil thing, and maybe I'm evil too, especially with this, and being Snape's son. People get beat up or worse for being gay in some places in the Muggle world. Uncle Vernon is a homophobe, and not even one of the most extreme. For something that's not a choice, I sure wish I had one! Harry heaved himself to his feet. Let's go, we don't want McGonagall to dock points.

The trio left for Transfiguration, which, for Harry, was followed that evening by Quidditch practise, but, thankfully, no extra Defense tuition. He made sure to walk down to the pitch with Ron, but practise was delayed when he was peppered with questions by the rest of the team.

Harry, what they're saying, up at the school... is it true? Fred asked. I mean, it doesn't matter to me, but if it's not true, then we've got some retribution to dish out.

Harry shook his head, but allowed a small smile to cross his lips. No, it's true. The only revenge that needs to be taken is on one person, and I'm working on that myself.

People aren't being prattish about this, are they? Katie Bell asked, concerned.

Harry shook his head. Don't worry about it, guys. I promise I'll be well to play in all our matches.

Angelina's eyes widened. She wasn't Head Girl for nothing. she said warningly, does that mean what I think it means?

Um... no? Harry said hopefully.

What do you think it means? George asked, confused.

I think it means that someone, or more than one someone, has been expressing their disapproval of Harry's orientation with their fists.

The others gasped, and Harry maintained a poker glance, but Ron nodded. You're right, Angelina. Seriously, guys, though, getting more people involved will make it worse. Hermione knows healing charms, and we'll be keeping an eye on him.

The others only nodded worriedly, and practise began.


The next day didn't go too badly; Harry only had to put up with rude comments, many of them to his face. Even several of his fellow Gryffindors had made comments, including Lavender and Parvati. Still, he didn't get beat up, and his father treated him the same as he always had in Potions class – the rest of the class marveled that it was as if the article had never been published. The only thing that puzzled Harry was why Malfoy hadn't said a word yet. Well, that, and he wondered when he would start receiving Howlers. He was relieved to have an excuse to see Professor Lupin that evening.

He sank into a chair in Professor Lupin's office sadly. I suppose you've heard? he asked, one eyebrow cocked.

Er, what? Remus asked, slightly confused. Two nights ago was the full moon, remember? So I haven't heard a thing about anything. Why? What's going on?

Harry groaned. My ex-boyfriend, he began, wrote an article about our relationship, and had it published in Witch Weekly. Remus's eyes widened in horror. Harry continued, Thankfully, Mrs. Weasley express-owled me the clipping, so I had a day's time to, well, to steel myself, I suppose. Break up with the nasty git. That sort of thing.

And how are things going now?

Well, I've had insults galore, but no permanent damage to my psyche. The only weird thing is that Malfoy hasn't commented.

Remus raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Taking a sip of tea, he went to the one topic Harry wished to avoid. What about your father? he asked cautiously.

Harry's face fell. He... wrote me a letter. Said he didn't wish to discuss it with me for some time, he replied, almost inaudibly.

Oh, Harry, Remus said. I'm so, so sorry.

Harry shrugged. Well, it wasn't like it was totally unexpected, right? That was why I was waiting and everything.

Yes, but still...

Harry nodded. I hadn't been writing Sirius because of everything, but do you think it'd be okay if I did know?

Remus nodded. I think so. Why don't you use a bit of our time to do it. Cutting the lesson short one day can't hurt.

Harry smiled briefly. Then he gathered some parchment and began to write.


Hello, Sirius.

I know we haven't talked in a bit, but this has been a very odd term for me so far. Not only did I find out that Severus Snape was my father, but I figured out that I was gay.

And therein lies my current problem.

Yes, I know about you and Remus. I doubt you have access to Witch Weekly, however, so I doubt you've seen one of this week's feature articles. It's on me – and my sexual orientation.

Lucky for me, I apparently make poor choices when selecting boyfriends, and said ex-boyfriend sold me out. Lovely, hmm? Now my father won't speak to me, I'm being insulted at every turn, and... well.

If I tell you this next part, you must promise not to breathe a word to anyone at this school, including Remus. I fear it would only make things worse.

I've been beaten up. Just once, so far, but I'm under no illusions that it will be the last. I didn't grow up in the Muggle world for nothing, and the wizarding world seems to be no different – or perhaps even worse – in that respect.

Well, I don't really need a solution, I suppose, but I feel better for writing this all out.

Harry


Satisified, Harry folded the letter and set it beside his schoolbag. He would go by the Owlery after he finished his lesson with Remus.

A sweaty and rather exhausted Harry left Remus's office some time later, and went straight to the Owlery. He sent the letter off with Hedwig, and stayed there a moment, just breathing in the night air. As the sweat dried and his body rested, Harry could almost forget the events of the past few days. Almost.

He was nearly back to Gryffindor Tower when he was attacked again. The shadows mostly hid their faces but he made out enough to see that his attackers weren't all from one house. There must've been six or seven, at least, and he was certain that he saw ties and crests from all four Houses. It was nearly half an hour later before the attackers left him, and nearly an hour after that before Harry regained consciousness. He groaned. Why had no one noticed he was gone? Then it hit him. Normally he spent this time with his father, in the dungeons, and that included returning late at times. Ron and Hermione probably thought he had tried to go patch things up.

Harry carefully got to his feet, but found he couldn't put weight on his right ankle, and his left wrist stuck out at a funny angle. He managed to get halfway down the hall before collapsing again. Sighing, he dragged himself into an alcove and waited, hoping Ron and Hermione would have the good sense to use the Marauders' Map to find him. Then he passed out.


Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione had started to get slightly worried.

I thought that Snape told Harry not to come down to the dungeons for a bit, Hermione remarked worriedly, her lips pursed.

Yeah, he did, Ron answered casually as he scribbled away at his star chart.

So, it's past time for his tuition with Professor Lupin to be over, but Harry's not back yet.

I'm sure he's fine, replied Ron patiently. Probably wanted to talk to Remus, since he's been another father figure.

I suppose you're right, Hermione said uncertainly. But if he hasn't returned by curfew, we might should check the map.

Ron nodded, and the two returned to their work.

It was past curfew, however, before either reach a stopping point in their work, and they immediately realised that their friend was not back. Their gazes met. This was bad, they thought, very bad. As one, they sprinted up the stairs to the fifth year boys' dormitory, and rifled through Harry's trunk for the Marauders' Map and the invisibility cloak.

I solemnly swear that I am up to no good! Ron blurted out frantically, causing the other boys to look up in confusion.

Guys? What's going on? Seamus asked.

We can't find Harry, Hermione replied tersely.

Oh. Well, he's probably off with Snape, right?

Ron replied. Not today. And... bloody hell. Mione, what does it mean if the dot is flickering?

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face. Nothing good. She twirled to face the other three boys. Do any of you know any healing spells, any at all?

Seamus shrugged. A few basic ones. I borrowed a book from my mum last summer.

Hermione said crisply. You'd better come with us. She shook out the invisibility cloak. Come on, get under it, she urged him. Harry's in trouble!

Seamus bolted upright and joined the two under the cloak as they raced from Gryffindor Tower to his location, the dot flickering in and out.

When they reached Harry, it was all Hermione could do not to scream. Ron swore, and Seamus retched onto the floor. Harry was dangerously close to not surviving, it seemed, judging by the combination of muggle and magical injuries that the boy had.