A.N: Hello all! I might have some bad news. Tomorrow I am getting my interm report(half
quarter report card) and I'm getting a fairly bad grade in US History. If it is completely
horrible, I will most likely be grounded from typing or going on-line. So if I end up not
updating for a while you will all know why. However, if I do not get grounded, the next
chapter should be up on schedule, next weekend. I just thought that it would be fair
of me to let you in on this. Thank you for listening to my rambling! ^.^
~Happy Reading! Review!~
~*~*Snape P.O.V~*~*
I awoke startled, as I felt my hand being squeezed. I was immediately puzzled.
How could my hand be squeezed if I was alone, sleeping in my quarters?
And then I remembered. I wasn't in my quarters, nor was I alone. I was sitting
in a chair, my head lying on a soft bed. And I was holding someone's hand.
*Harry's hand.*
I bolted upright from the bed, eyes wide and staring at Harry. His hand was
gripping mine tightly. Completely shocked, I opened my mouth and closed it numerous
times before I found my voice.
"Harry?" I whispered shakily. At first there was no response. Then Harry's body
heaved and he began coughing so loudly it seemed as though his chest was being ripped
out. Then it stopped and I wached Harry's chest rise and fall heavil for a moment before he
spoke.
"Hello, Professor Snape," he said quietly, his eyes closed and unmoving. I tried
to pull my hand out of his, wanting to go and get someone, not wanting to be left alone in
the room with Harry. But he just gripped my hand tighter.
"Don't get anyone, Professor," he said. "Please," I was then partially glad he
had his eyes closed, I did not want him to see the expression on my face. But it also
gave me an uneasy feeling, seeing him so expressionless with his eyes closed.
Once again I found no way to respond to him, so I just continued sitting
there, staring at him.
"Don't act so shocked, Professor. You really didn't think I'd leave, did you?"
he asked, sounding as if he really *was* dead. I continued to sit there, my mouth
opening and closing, looking quite like a fish out of water.
He frowned at my silence, the first time he showed some expression, but it
did not make me feel any better with his eyes closed.
"Say something, Professor!" he urged, and I snapped before thinking.
"How the hell do you do it?!" I say loudly, immediately scorning myself.
It was not the nicest thing to say. His frown deepened.
"Do what, Professor?"
"Everything! You are fifteen years old, and you defeat the most powerful
wizard with such an amazing amount of magical energy you could have destroyed
a town!" I bark, once again getting the urge to curse myself. Harry, however, did not
seemed to be fazed. He just grinned a little.
"First of all, Voldemort was not the most powerful wizard. I am. And it is a
gift...er...or a curse, depending on how you view it." he said, and ent a chill up my spine.
He started coughing again, his face twisted in pain as he squeezed my hand extremely
tight.
"And how do you view it?" I ask, once he has stopped coughing.
"Both. It is a gift because I was fianlly able to live up to everyone's expectations,
and avenge Voldemort for what he has done. And yet it is a curse, because now I will be
leaned upon. The wizarding world will rely on me to much, and become lazy. I will be
expected to defeat every dark wizard that comes. And one day, I won't be here to save
them, and will they be sorry."
"But you are the hero! That is what everyone and anyone dreams of!" I say,
unable to understand how he can take such an amazing gift and turn it into something
so bad.
"I am not just 'anyone', as you probably never knew." he said with great
bitterness for someone s otired and ill. We sat in silence, well, I sat in silence, he
layed.
I had never been more ashamed of myself. I was more ashamed of how
I had acted torwords the boy then when I had become a Death Eater. I had always
thought that Harry lived the hero's life. I figured that the muggles he lived with had
waited on him hand and foot, praising him non-stop for banishing the Dark Lord.
I had no idea that it was exactly the oposite. Not only did the muggles nearly starve
him to death, but he waited on them! And worse yet, they beat and tortured him!
Three muggles, including Lily's sister, beat the famous Harry Potter! I just hoped
that there was some way to prove it. My thoughts were interrupted.
"How long has it been since the battle?" he asked, and thankfully the
bitterness in his voice had vanished. I thought before I answered, counting the
days in my head.
"You battled Voldemort on October 26th. It is now December 3rd.
You have been sleeping for thirty-seven days." I said. I still couldn't believe how
long it has been since that day.
"Professor, can I tell you something?"
"Yes, go on."
"When - when I was -asleep- I had a very strange dream." at this he faultered,
and I noticed his hand squeeze mine tighter.
"Go on, " I urge him in what I hope sounds like an encouraging tone.
"Well, I was standing in what seemed to be fog. But instead of it being that
frosty gray and blue, it was very dark black. I could barely see. Then I heard a voice,
it sounded so far away and familiar. It was my mother." he said. And then I found
that I was squeezing his hand harder. I think he noticed.
"Y - your mother?"
"Yes. I began to run through the fog, calling her. And at last I found her. And
she spoke to me."
"What did she say, Harry?" I say, almost urgently. I wished I hadn't said it,
because at this he opened his eyes, and fixed them on me. I clutched the bedsheet,
looking into Harry's eyes. But they didn't look like Harry's eyes. They looked like
Sirius's and mine. The once glittering green were darkened and seemed like
endless black tunnles filled with fear, pain, worry, pride, and other emothions I was
not able to understand. It took all the will power I had to look away.
"She said that my father isn't my father." he said quietly, and tears streamed
down his face. I had never seen Harry cry, and it broke my heart. As much as I wanted to
just stand up and hug him, I knew that I couldn't, that I had to know more.
"What do you mean, Harry?"
"She said that James Potter is not my dad. But how can that be? I asked her
who my real father was, and she did not tell me. All she said was that he was still alive."
Harry said, his tears flowing more rapidly down his face. "How could she not tell me?
I have a right to know who my father is!" he burst out, and he sat up, sobbing. He
tried to hide his face, he was ashamed.
I swallowed my pride and stood up and wrapped my arms around Harry's
shaking form. At first he stiffened, so I hugged him tighter. He let out a cry of sorrow
was he flung his arms around me and hugged me tightly, his face burried in the chest
of my robes. We stayed like that for a few minutes before he spoke again.
"Do you have any idea who my father is?" he asked, still sobbing lightly. I paled
and opened my mouth to speak.
"Harry I - " I was cut off by the sounds of foot-steps coming from Poppy's room. We
both froze, looking at the door. He took his arms of me and layed back down in his bed.
I pulled my cloak out from my pocket and turned to him.
"Listen Harry. I'll come back later tonight. Then we can talk about this, okay?" I asked
flinging the claok around me. He nodded.
"Okay." he nodded. I turned as he closed his eyes and walked out the other doors. I
heard Poppy's door open as soon as the ones I passed through closed.
I stood against the wall, unable to believe what was happening.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
A.N: Well, that chapter was definately different? Are you glad that Harry is okay? Who is Harry's
*real* father? Find out in Chapter 29! PLEASE REVIEW!
quarter report card) and I'm getting a fairly bad grade in US History. If it is completely
horrible, I will most likely be grounded from typing or going on-line. So if I end up not
updating for a while you will all know why. However, if I do not get grounded, the next
chapter should be up on schedule, next weekend. I just thought that it would be fair
of me to let you in on this. Thank you for listening to my rambling! ^.^
~Happy Reading! Review!~
~*~*Snape P.O.V~*~*
I awoke startled, as I felt my hand being squeezed. I was immediately puzzled.
How could my hand be squeezed if I was alone, sleeping in my quarters?
And then I remembered. I wasn't in my quarters, nor was I alone. I was sitting
in a chair, my head lying on a soft bed. And I was holding someone's hand.
*Harry's hand.*
I bolted upright from the bed, eyes wide and staring at Harry. His hand was
gripping mine tightly. Completely shocked, I opened my mouth and closed it numerous
times before I found my voice.
"Harry?" I whispered shakily. At first there was no response. Then Harry's body
heaved and he began coughing so loudly it seemed as though his chest was being ripped
out. Then it stopped and I wached Harry's chest rise and fall heavil for a moment before he
spoke.
"Hello, Professor Snape," he said quietly, his eyes closed and unmoving. I tried
to pull my hand out of his, wanting to go and get someone, not wanting to be left alone in
the room with Harry. But he just gripped my hand tighter.
"Don't get anyone, Professor," he said. "Please," I was then partially glad he
had his eyes closed, I did not want him to see the expression on my face. But it also
gave me an uneasy feeling, seeing him so expressionless with his eyes closed.
Once again I found no way to respond to him, so I just continued sitting
there, staring at him.
"Don't act so shocked, Professor. You really didn't think I'd leave, did you?"
he asked, sounding as if he really *was* dead. I continued to sit there, my mouth
opening and closing, looking quite like a fish out of water.
He frowned at my silence, the first time he showed some expression, but it
did not make me feel any better with his eyes closed.
"Say something, Professor!" he urged, and I snapped before thinking.
"How the hell do you do it?!" I say loudly, immediately scorning myself.
It was not the nicest thing to say. His frown deepened.
"Do what, Professor?"
"Everything! You are fifteen years old, and you defeat the most powerful
wizard with such an amazing amount of magical energy you could have destroyed
a town!" I bark, once again getting the urge to curse myself. Harry, however, did not
seemed to be fazed. He just grinned a little.
"First of all, Voldemort was not the most powerful wizard. I am. And it is a
gift...er...or a curse, depending on how you view it." he said, and ent a chill up my spine.
He started coughing again, his face twisted in pain as he squeezed my hand extremely
tight.
"And how do you view it?" I ask, once he has stopped coughing.
"Both. It is a gift because I was fianlly able to live up to everyone's expectations,
and avenge Voldemort for what he has done. And yet it is a curse, because now I will be
leaned upon. The wizarding world will rely on me to much, and become lazy. I will be
expected to defeat every dark wizard that comes. And one day, I won't be here to save
them, and will they be sorry."
"But you are the hero! That is what everyone and anyone dreams of!" I say,
unable to understand how he can take such an amazing gift and turn it into something
so bad.
"I am not just 'anyone', as you probably never knew." he said with great
bitterness for someone s otired and ill. We sat in silence, well, I sat in silence, he
layed.
I had never been more ashamed of myself. I was more ashamed of how
I had acted torwords the boy then when I had become a Death Eater. I had always
thought that Harry lived the hero's life. I figured that the muggles he lived with had
waited on him hand and foot, praising him non-stop for banishing the Dark Lord.
I had no idea that it was exactly the oposite. Not only did the muggles nearly starve
him to death, but he waited on them! And worse yet, they beat and tortured him!
Three muggles, including Lily's sister, beat the famous Harry Potter! I just hoped
that there was some way to prove it. My thoughts were interrupted.
"How long has it been since the battle?" he asked, and thankfully the
bitterness in his voice had vanished. I thought before I answered, counting the
days in my head.
"You battled Voldemort on October 26th. It is now December 3rd.
You have been sleeping for thirty-seven days." I said. I still couldn't believe how
long it has been since that day.
"Professor, can I tell you something?"
"Yes, go on."
"When - when I was -asleep- I had a very strange dream." at this he faultered,
and I noticed his hand squeeze mine tighter.
"Go on, " I urge him in what I hope sounds like an encouraging tone.
"Well, I was standing in what seemed to be fog. But instead of it being that
frosty gray and blue, it was very dark black. I could barely see. Then I heard a voice,
it sounded so far away and familiar. It was my mother." he said. And then I found
that I was squeezing his hand harder. I think he noticed.
"Y - your mother?"
"Yes. I began to run through the fog, calling her. And at last I found her. And
she spoke to me."
"What did she say, Harry?" I say, almost urgently. I wished I hadn't said it,
because at this he opened his eyes, and fixed them on me. I clutched the bedsheet,
looking into Harry's eyes. But they didn't look like Harry's eyes. They looked like
Sirius's and mine. The once glittering green were darkened and seemed like
endless black tunnles filled with fear, pain, worry, pride, and other emothions I was
not able to understand. It took all the will power I had to look away.
"She said that my father isn't my father." he said quietly, and tears streamed
down his face. I had never seen Harry cry, and it broke my heart. As much as I wanted to
just stand up and hug him, I knew that I couldn't, that I had to know more.
"What do you mean, Harry?"
"She said that James Potter is not my dad. But how can that be? I asked her
who my real father was, and she did not tell me. All she said was that he was still alive."
Harry said, his tears flowing more rapidly down his face. "How could she not tell me?
I have a right to know who my father is!" he burst out, and he sat up, sobbing. He
tried to hide his face, he was ashamed.
I swallowed my pride and stood up and wrapped my arms around Harry's
shaking form. At first he stiffened, so I hugged him tighter. He let out a cry of sorrow
was he flung his arms around me and hugged me tightly, his face burried in the chest
of my robes. We stayed like that for a few minutes before he spoke again.
"Do you have any idea who my father is?" he asked, still sobbing lightly. I paled
and opened my mouth to speak.
"Harry I - " I was cut off by the sounds of foot-steps coming from Poppy's room. We
both froze, looking at the door. He took his arms of me and layed back down in his bed.
I pulled my cloak out from my pocket and turned to him.
"Listen Harry. I'll come back later tonight. Then we can talk about this, okay?" I asked
flinging the claok around me. He nodded.
"Okay." he nodded. I turned as he closed his eyes and walked out the other doors. I
heard Poppy's door open as soon as the ones I passed through closed.
I stood against the wall, unable to believe what was happening.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
A.N: Well, that chapter was definately different? Are you glad that Harry is okay? Who is Harry's
*real* father? Find out in Chapter 29! PLEASE REVIEW!