Title: Don't Go Away
Author: Aurora Middleton (aurora4852@yahoo.com)
Summary: Prequel to All That We See or Seem. Snape has a conversation with his infant son, Caleb.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: If wishes were horses..
Warnings: mentions of slash (HP/SS), mpreg, and past tense character death
Notes: I want to start by thanking everyone who reviewed All That We See or Seem. You all really helped me out a lot in figuring out where some of my strengths and weaknesses as a fan fiction writer are and I'm grateful for the honesty I received. I also appreciate the encouragement some of you gave me to post this story, which is the prequel to that one. I hope to receive a similar honest reaction to this story as I did the last one (and this time I even remembered to click on the option that lets me receive anonymous reviews :D). Thanks a lot, y'all!
P.S. For those who haven't read All That We See or Seem, the order in which you read the stories doesn't matter too much. Though I do have my reasons for posting them in the order I did, each story stands alone and will make sense without the other one.
Enjoy!
~~**~~
It was a generally accepted fact (as well as a source of great pride) that Severus Snape, former Potions master to countless inept students, Death Eater-turned-spy, third son of Dameon Snape, did not scare easily. However, when the awkward silence he was enjoying between himself and one Ron Weasley in the embarrassingly small house of the latter was shattered to bits and pieces by desperate wails coming from a nearby room, he nearly spilled the tea he had taken out of politeness all over his own lap. Luckily, he was able to save himself in time and Weasley was too concentrated on answering the baby's cries to pay him much notice. A wave of jealousy washed over him as he saw how quickly Weasley had taken to the role of adopted parent.
"What's going on?" he asked as Weasley headed in the direction from which the cries seemed to be coming.
"The baby's crying," Weasley said with a roll of his eyes that would have gotten him at least a fifteen point deduction and the threat of detention if these were different circumstances.
"I can hear that," Snape replied. "But why?"
"Why don't you come with me and find out?" Weasley replied condescendingly. "Honestly, if you're ever going to be a father to this kid..." The rest of his irate mumbling was lost as he disappeared through a door.
Snape sat for a moment, hesitant. He had yet to lay eyes on his baby son, who had been sleeping since his arrival a few hours earlier. The prospect of doing so scared him even more than the temporary startle he had gotten from the baby's sudden cries. He knew if he walked into that nursery behind Weasley, this all would become real. There wouldn't be any turning back. He wasn't sure if he could handle that. Especially knowing what he would have to do once he left this place. Once he had left his child permanently in the hands of its godfather.
"Are you coming or what?" an impatient voice said. It was like Weasley was daring him.
And Snape wasn't one to turn down a challenge. Otherwise they wouldn't even be in this mess right now.
With a sigh, he placed aside his cup full of tea with shaking hands. He stood mechanically and made his way over to the nursery before he could think any more on the subject.
He couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at the simplicity of the small room, which was roughly the size of most linen closets. It had none of the elaborate cutesy furniture typical of the nurseries he had had the misfortune of finding himself in in past years. There were no dancing animals or hideous clowns decorating the wall. Hell, the original paint job on the wall looked unfinished. The furniture was also quite sparse. A rickety looking crib with a few colorfully knitted (and worn) blankets, an ancient rocking chair, a small lamp that sat on the floor and an incongruously new-looking changing table barely fit into the space given them. A broken mobile hung from the wall and a teddy bear he recognized from Harry's own collection had fallen through the bars of the crib onto a faded area rug.
He paused a moment, taking this all in and it came to him suddenly just how quickly this was all happening. Not just for him, but for Ron. Ron hadn't exactly planned on becoming the adopted father of a baby he hadn't even known his friend was pregnant with and the makeshift atmosphere of the closet-like nursery reflected that. A grudging wave of gratitude came over him and he let his eyes meet with Ron's, hoping that they were properly translating what he himself was too proud to say.
"Not exactly the healthiest of environments," Ron admitted over the sound of the baby's wailing. "But I do what I can."
"I don't think Harry would have asked more," Snape replied. Then, looking down at his feet, added, "And neither will I."
He looked up in time to see Ron nod, taking in the uncharacteristic humility of his former professor. Then his attention turned to the tiny bundle Ron held in his arms. He approached the two as though he expected the baby to burst into flames at any moment. Peering over the tops of the blankets, he raised his trademark eyebrow at the tiny, red-faced baby in Ron's arms.
"How old is he?" he asked around an unfamiliar lump in his throat. He reached out a finger and the baby gripped it in his hand before bringing it to his mouth and sucking on it.
"Seven weeks, I think," Ron said. "He's a little small."
"Because of the twin?" Snape inquired.
He had seen the other baby's grave earlier in the day. It had been just as makeshift as the nursery, but heartfelt just the same. The lump in his throat became bigger.
"Yes," Ron whispered.
"What's the matter with him?" Snape asked.
"Judging from the way he's going to town on your finger, I think he's hungry," Ron said. "Would you mind holding him while I go get a bottle?"
The offer was abrupt and held little of the sentimentality usually associated with a father holding his child for the first time.
"Of course," Snape heard himself answer.
"You've held a baby before, right?" Ron said, holding the baby protectively close.
Snape rolled his eyes. "Yes, believe it or not, the big bad Potions master has held small children," he said. "I have several nieces and nephews and I'm quite versed in the holding of babies."
"All right, then," Ron said and carefully handed the baby over to its father. He checked to make sure the head was properly supported and that Snape wasn't shaking so badly he was going to drop the baby. Then, nodding with satisfaction, said, "I'll be back in a minute. I'm just going to go get a bottle."
"Right," Snape said and watched as Ron left the room. "I guess it's just you and me," he added to his son. "Caleb James Potter. Cheeky little bastard. Naming you after his father. Probably why he ran away in the first place."
Caleb whimpered and his dark eyes became worried.
"I didn't mean that," Snape said, seating himself gingerly in the nearby rocking chair. He adjusted a little and began to rock back and forth gently, hoping that the jerky awkwardness of his movements weren't upsetting Caleb, who looked distinctly uncomfortable with the entire situation.
Ron came back a moment later with a warm bottle and handed it to Snape.
"I suppose I'll leave you two alone, then," was all he said before walking out the door.
Snape waited until his son was sucking happily on the rubber nipple of the bottle to take up his one-sided conversation once more.
"I suppose you're pretty angry with me," he said, feeling vaguely ridiculous. "And you're probably waiting for some kind of an explanation. So I guess I'll start you off with the first of life's many disappointments by telling you that I honestly don't have one. In fact, I was busy waiting for an explanation myself when I heard about you and by then it was too late for either of us to get what we want because..."
He trailed off. The child removed one of his small hands from grasping the bottle and used it to grasp part of Snape's shirt like a favorite blanket. Snape smiled at the gesture.
"Seven weeks old and you've already lost so much," he said, feeling that lump beginning to form again. "First your brother. Now Harry."
The baby whimpered at the sound of his other father's name.
Snape cleared his throat.
"I don't think he wanted to run off on you like that," he said. "He was just doing what he had to do and...got himself killed in the process like we all knew he would one day. I don't know why anybody's surprised. He always was foolish like that. It's part of being a Gryffindor. I hope you never have that particular curse inflicted upon you once you're old enough to attend Hogwarts. I'm sure the parts that were destroyed will be rebuilt by then."
Caleb made a small noise, almost of agreement, and blinked, encouraging Snape to go on.
"So now Harry's dead and I'm the only one left who can finish what he started," he continued, his voice growing steadily more heavy. There was an unfamiliar prickling behind his eyes. He attempted to blink it away. Instead it only got worse. "I don't expect you to understand. It's an obligation of mine." He paused and sighed. "I'm going into battle, Caleb. The war is going to end and I don't think there's a way of avoiding the ending of my life with it. And I'm not sorry for myself. I always knew it would happen this way."
He paused and the baby's expression grew worried once more.
"I just never knew that when my time came, I'd be leaving my child behind," he said. "And for the first time I feel myself faltering in this. I'm so tired, Caleb. You have no idea. I've been doing this for so long, practically since I was a teenager. I feel like I have nothing left in me. I wish I could just leave it all behind. I really do. There's nothing I'd like better than to spend the rest of my life raising you."
He paused and cleared his throat. Another lump was forming and it took a moment for him to be able to go on.
"I'm afraid I don't have the option of changing my mind," he said softly. "And I don't want you to think that it's because I don't love you enough to forsake my duty, just this once. Hell, I've only known you ten minutes and I'm already more taken with you than I've ever been with any child I've ever met."
The baby giggled at this and milk ran down the sides of his mouth. Snape gently wiped it away.
"I'm doing this because I know that this is the only way to make a better world for you," he said. "I don't want you to have to grow up in fear, peeking around corners and jumping at shadows like Harry started to. It's better this way. And I won't apologize for my actions because I know that it will turn out better in the end. I know that. Otherwise I wouldn't be doing it."
Caleb whimpered and his grip on Snape's shirt tightened.
"I just hope that in doing this, I'm not forcing you to trade a life of fear for a life of self-pity," he added. "I don't want you to feel sorry for yourself, if you can possibly help it. I know you've lost a lot but you're also incredibly lucky. When your grandparents died, your father was left in the hands of stupid, cruel muggles. A decision of Albus Dumbledore's I still don't agree with to this day, which is why I'm glad that your father had someone like Ron Weasley to depend upon in his time of need."
The baby giggled again at the mention of Ron's name.
"Weasley and I have never gotten along," Snape admitted. "In fact, he was highly disapproving of your father's relationship with me. He thinks I'm a greasy git and my opinion of him isn't much more flattering. Nevertheless, Harry could have done a lot worse in his choice of friends. And I will grudgingly admit that, despite his faults, Weasley...Ron is a good man who will only ever have your best interests in mind. I know he isn't much to look at now but I believe he's doing his best. I know that with the parents you have, patience is probably not going to be on the top of the list of personality traits you've inherited, but please try to be patient with him. He's trying, after all."
The bottle was finished now, so Snape set it aside and wiped off the infant's mouth once again before re-positioning him. After a moment of gentle coaxing, Caleb burped appreciatively and then settled onto his father's shoulder and began to drift off.
"Hey," Snape said, nudging him a little bit to keep him awake. "No sleeping in class. Twenty points from Gryffindor." He felt himself smile at his own jest. "Actually, you can sleep through this next part if you want. It's going to be a little boring and even a trifle sentimental."
Caleb blinked a few times in polite interest.
"Well, truthfully, there is something I want to apologize to you for," he said. "And that's the presence of my genes in your vast pool. Harry and I always knew it was a possibility to have children, but it was never a plan of ours and we were always careful. I don't know if it was just a pre- destined thing that you came along or merely a bit of carelessness neither of us noticed at the time. Either way, I want you to know that, as funny as it looked on the outside, our relationship was a happy one. Or at least as happy as it could be in these serious times."
The baby yawned hugely.
"Yes, yes, I'm getting there. Give me a moment," he said irritably. "I realize that that last idea makes it a little hard to fathom why Harry would have left me upon discovering his condition but, with what little time I've had to reason it out, I've come to the tentative conclusion that it was something he did in an effort to protect us all. And he must have done a good job of it if he went all the way through it and Voldemort never even had an inkling. I just regret that he felt that he had to do it alone. Once again, I blame Gryffindor but that's a bit of a bias of mine."
Caleb's eyelids were now beginning to slip closed.
"Anyway, since I see I've almost completely lost your attention, I just wanted to tell you that I am sorry for anything of mine that you happen to inherit. Except for maybe if you ended up having an interest in potions. That I won't apologize for. In fact, be sure that, if you develop a talent for it, I'll be gloating like a pathetically proud father wherever I am."
He could practically feel the teenager his son would one day be rolling his eyes at him.
"What I will apologize for are things like the possibility of having a somewhat anti-social personality, the lack of good looks, the tone- deafness, the bad fashion sense, and, most of all, the inescapable inclination toward bad choices. Don't get me wrong. I'll love you no matter what. I just hope that you find a comfortable balance between Harry's personality and mine. Otherwise you might want to hire a therapist right away."
The baby blinked a few times, seeming to make an effort to stay awake during all of this.
"Mostly I want to apologize for the fact that you're not going to know where it all comes from once you're of an age to be curious about these things," he said. "Very few people knew about the relationship I had with your father and it's safest if it remains that way, even after I'm gone and this is all over. Because, truth be told, even with Voldemort gone, there will be enough people trying to kill you just for being Harry Potter's son. You don't need my name attached to you as well. At least not until you're old enough."
He paused. Somehow, this was turning out to be the hardest part of all.
"Old enough for what? I don't know," he added. "But I've told Ron not to tell you anything about me until you're ready to hear it. He's agreed, against his better judgment. Or so he says. So I've left it in his hands, despite the fact that I know that will probably make you angry with both him and myself. I just hope you'll be able to look at the big picture and realize that it's all being done for a reason. We're not just trying to spite you. I'm sorry that you're the one who's being left behind in all of this, but I think one day, you'll understand why."
Caleb yawned again and this time allowed his eyelids to slip closed completely.
"For now, I can see that I'm taking away from your precious sleep time," he said, rising from his seat on the rocking chair. "Now, I'm not given to kissing many babies, but I suppose I can make an exception for you."
He kissed Caleb clumsily on the cheek before setting him carefully back in his crib and arranging the blankets over him. The child sighed contentedly and was already well on his way to his innocent dream world when Snape added,
"I love you, Caleb James Potter. Please forgive me."
~~**~~
Once again I do have ideas for more prequels and sequels and whatever opinion you might have on the matter (whether positive or negative) would be very welcome. Thanks for reading!
~Aurora M.
Author: Aurora Middleton (aurora4852@yahoo.com)
Summary: Prequel to All That We See or Seem. Snape has a conversation with his infant son, Caleb.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: If wishes were horses..
Warnings: mentions of slash (HP/SS), mpreg, and past tense character death
Notes: I want to start by thanking everyone who reviewed All That We See or Seem. You all really helped me out a lot in figuring out where some of my strengths and weaknesses as a fan fiction writer are and I'm grateful for the honesty I received. I also appreciate the encouragement some of you gave me to post this story, which is the prequel to that one. I hope to receive a similar honest reaction to this story as I did the last one (and this time I even remembered to click on the option that lets me receive anonymous reviews :D). Thanks a lot, y'all!
P.S. For those who haven't read All That We See or Seem, the order in which you read the stories doesn't matter too much. Though I do have my reasons for posting them in the order I did, each story stands alone and will make sense without the other one.
Enjoy!
~~**~~
It was a generally accepted fact (as well as a source of great pride) that Severus Snape, former Potions master to countless inept students, Death Eater-turned-spy, third son of Dameon Snape, did not scare easily. However, when the awkward silence he was enjoying between himself and one Ron Weasley in the embarrassingly small house of the latter was shattered to bits and pieces by desperate wails coming from a nearby room, he nearly spilled the tea he had taken out of politeness all over his own lap. Luckily, he was able to save himself in time and Weasley was too concentrated on answering the baby's cries to pay him much notice. A wave of jealousy washed over him as he saw how quickly Weasley had taken to the role of adopted parent.
"What's going on?" he asked as Weasley headed in the direction from which the cries seemed to be coming.
"The baby's crying," Weasley said with a roll of his eyes that would have gotten him at least a fifteen point deduction and the threat of detention if these were different circumstances.
"I can hear that," Snape replied. "But why?"
"Why don't you come with me and find out?" Weasley replied condescendingly. "Honestly, if you're ever going to be a father to this kid..." The rest of his irate mumbling was lost as he disappeared through a door.
Snape sat for a moment, hesitant. He had yet to lay eyes on his baby son, who had been sleeping since his arrival a few hours earlier. The prospect of doing so scared him even more than the temporary startle he had gotten from the baby's sudden cries. He knew if he walked into that nursery behind Weasley, this all would become real. There wouldn't be any turning back. He wasn't sure if he could handle that. Especially knowing what he would have to do once he left this place. Once he had left his child permanently in the hands of its godfather.
"Are you coming or what?" an impatient voice said. It was like Weasley was daring him.
And Snape wasn't one to turn down a challenge. Otherwise they wouldn't even be in this mess right now.
With a sigh, he placed aside his cup full of tea with shaking hands. He stood mechanically and made his way over to the nursery before he could think any more on the subject.
He couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at the simplicity of the small room, which was roughly the size of most linen closets. It had none of the elaborate cutesy furniture typical of the nurseries he had had the misfortune of finding himself in in past years. There were no dancing animals or hideous clowns decorating the wall. Hell, the original paint job on the wall looked unfinished. The furniture was also quite sparse. A rickety looking crib with a few colorfully knitted (and worn) blankets, an ancient rocking chair, a small lamp that sat on the floor and an incongruously new-looking changing table barely fit into the space given them. A broken mobile hung from the wall and a teddy bear he recognized from Harry's own collection had fallen through the bars of the crib onto a faded area rug.
He paused a moment, taking this all in and it came to him suddenly just how quickly this was all happening. Not just for him, but for Ron. Ron hadn't exactly planned on becoming the adopted father of a baby he hadn't even known his friend was pregnant with and the makeshift atmosphere of the closet-like nursery reflected that. A grudging wave of gratitude came over him and he let his eyes meet with Ron's, hoping that they were properly translating what he himself was too proud to say.
"Not exactly the healthiest of environments," Ron admitted over the sound of the baby's wailing. "But I do what I can."
"I don't think Harry would have asked more," Snape replied. Then, looking down at his feet, added, "And neither will I."
He looked up in time to see Ron nod, taking in the uncharacteristic humility of his former professor. Then his attention turned to the tiny bundle Ron held in his arms. He approached the two as though he expected the baby to burst into flames at any moment. Peering over the tops of the blankets, he raised his trademark eyebrow at the tiny, red-faced baby in Ron's arms.
"How old is he?" he asked around an unfamiliar lump in his throat. He reached out a finger and the baby gripped it in his hand before bringing it to his mouth and sucking on it.
"Seven weeks, I think," Ron said. "He's a little small."
"Because of the twin?" Snape inquired.
He had seen the other baby's grave earlier in the day. It had been just as makeshift as the nursery, but heartfelt just the same. The lump in his throat became bigger.
"Yes," Ron whispered.
"What's the matter with him?" Snape asked.
"Judging from the way he's going to town on your finger, I think he's hungry," Ron said. "Would you mind holding him while I go get a bottle?"
The offer was abrupt and held little of the sentimentality usually associated with a father holding his child for the first time.
"Of course," Snape heard himself answer.
"You've held a baby before, right?" Ron said, holding the baby protectively close.
Snape rolled his eyes. "Yes, believe it or not, the big bad Potions master has held small children," he said. "I have several nieces and nephews and I'm quite versed in the holding of babies."
"All right, then," Ron said and carefully handed the baby over to its father. He checked to make sure the head was properly supported and that Snape wasn't shaking so badly he was going to drop the baby. Then, nodding with satisfaction, said, "I'll be back in a minute. I'm just going to go get a bottle."
"Right," Snape said and watched as Ron left the room. "I guess it's just you and me," he added to his son. "Caleb James Potter. Cheeky little bastard. Naming you after his father. Probably why he ran away in the first place."
Caleb whimpered and his dark eyes became worried.
"I didn't mean that," Snape said, seating himself gingerly in the nearby rocking chair. He adjusted a little and began to rock back and forth gently, hoping that the jerky awkwardness of his movements weren't upsetting Caleb, who looked distinctly uncomfortable with the entire situation.
Ron came back a moment later with a warm bottle and handed it to Snape.
"I suppose I'll leave you two alone, then," was all he said before walking out the door.
Snape waited until his son was sucking happily on the rubber nipple of the bottle to take up his one-sided conversation once more.
"I suppose you're pretty angry with me," he said, feeling vaguely ridiculous. "And you're probably waiting for some kind of an explanation. So I guess I'll start you off with the first of life's many disappointments by telling you that I honestly don't have one. In fact, I was busy waiting for an explanation myself when I heard about you and by then it was too late for either of us to get what we want because..."
He trailed off. The child removed one of his small hands from grasping the bottle and used it to grasp part of Snape's shirt like a favorite blanket. Snape smiled at the gesture.
"Seven weeks old and you've already lost so much," he said, feeling that lump beginning to form again. "First your brother. Now Harry."
The baby whimpered at the sound of his other father's name.
Snape cleared his throat.
"I don't think he wanted to run off on you like that," he said. "He was just doing what he had to do and...got himself killed in the process like we all knew he would one day. I don't know why anybody's surprised. He always was foolish like that. It's part of being a Gryffindor. I hope you never have that particular curse inflicted upon you once you're old enough to attend Hogwarts. I'm sure the parts that were destroyed will be rebuilt by then."
Caleb made a small noise, almost of agreement, and blinked, encouraging Snape to go on.
"So now Harry's dead and I'm the only one left who can finish what he started," he continued, his voice growing steadily more heavy. There was an unfamiliar prickling behind his eyes. He attempted to blink it away. Instead it only got worse. "I don't expect you to understand. It's an obligation of mine." He paused and sighed. "I'm going into battle, Caleb. The war is going to end and I don't think there's a way of avoiding the ending of my life with it. And I'm not sorry for myself. I always knew it would happen this way."
He paused and the baby's expression grew worried once more.
"I just never knew that when my time came, I'd be leaving my child behind," he said. "And for the first time I feel myself faltering in this. I'm so tired, Caleb. You have no idea. I've been doing this for so long, practically since I was a teenager. I feel like I have nothing left in me. I wish I could just leave it all behind. I really do. There's nothing I'd like better than to spend the rest of my life raising you."
He paused and cleared his throat. Another lump was forming and it took a moment for him to be able to go on.
"I'm afraid I don't have the option of changing my mind," he said softly. "And I don't want you to think that it's because I don't love you enough to forsake my duty, just this once. Hell, I've only known you ten minutes and I'm already more taken with you than I've ever been with any child I've ever met."
The baby giggled at this and milk ran down the sides of his mouth. Snape gently wiped it away.
"I'm doing this because I know that this is the only way to make a better world for you," he said. "I don't want you to have to grow up in fear, peeking around corners and jumping at shadows like Harry started to. It's better this way. And I won't apologize for my actions because I know that it will turn out better in the end. I know that. Otherwise I wouldn't be doing it."
Caleb whimpered and his grip on Snape's shirt tightened.
"I just hope that in doing this, I'm not forcing you to trade a life of fear for a life of self-pity," he added. "I don't want you to feel sorry for yourself, if you can possibly help it. I know you've lost a lot but you're also incredibly lucky. When your grandparents died, your father was left in the hands of stupid, cruel muggles. A decision of Albus Dumbledore's I still don't agree with to this day, which is why I'm glad that your father had someone like Ron Weasley to depend upon in his time of need."
The baby giggled again at the mention of Ron's name.
"Weasley and I have never gotten along," Snape admitted. "In fact, he was highly disapproving of your father's relationship with me. He thinks I'm a greasy git and my opinion of him isn't much more flattering. Nevertheless, Harry could have done a lot worse in his choice of friends. And I will grudgingly admit that, despite his faults, Weasley...Ron is a good man who will only ever have your best interests in mind. I know he isn't much to look at now but I believe he's doing his best. I know that with the parents you have, patience is probably not going to be on the top of the list of personality traits you've inherited, but please try to be patient with him. He's trying, after all."
The bottle was finished now, so Snape set it aside and wiped off the infant's mouth once again before re-positioning him. After a moment of gentle coaxing, Caleb burped appreciatively and then settled onto his father's shoulder and began to drift off.
"Hey," Snape said, nudging him a little bit to keep him awake. "No sleeping in class. Twenty points from Gryffindor." He felt himself smile at his own jest. "Actually, you can sleep through this next part if you want. It's going to be a little boring and even a trifle sentimental."
Caleb blinked a few times in polite interest.
"Well, truthfully, there is something I want to apologize to you for," he said. "And that's the presence of my genes in your vast pool. Harry and I always knew it was a possibility to have children, but it was never a plan of ours and we were always careful. I don't know if it was just a pre- destined thing that you came along or merely a bit of carelessness neither of us noticed at the time. Either way, I want you to know that, as funny as it looked on the outside, our relationship was a happy one. Or at least as happy as it could be in these serious times."
The baby yawned hugely.
"Yes, yes, I'm getting there. Give me a moment," he said irritably. "I realize that that last idea makes it a little hard to fathom why Harry would have left me upon discovering his condition but, with what little time I've had to reason it out, I've come to the tentative conclusion that it was something he did in an effort to protect us all. And he must have done a good job of it if he went all the way through it and Voldemort never even had an inkling. I just regret that he felt that he had to do it alone. Once again, I blame Gryffindor but that's a bit of a bias of mine."
Caleb's eyelids were now beginning to slip closed.
"Anyway, since I see I've almost completely lost your attention, I just wanted to tell you that I am sorry for anything of mine that you happen to inherit. Except for maybe if you ended up having an interest in potions. That I won't apologize for. In fact, be sure that, if you develop a talent for it, I'll be gloating like a pathetically proud father wherever I am."
He could practically feel the teenager his son would one day be rolling his eyes at him.
"What I will apologize for are things like the possibility of having a somewhat anti-social personality, the lack of good looks, the tone- deafness, the bad fashion sense, and, most of all, the inescapable inclination toward bad choices. Don't get me wrong. I'll love you no matter what. I just hope that you find a comfortable balance between Harry's personality and mine. Otherwise you might want to hire a therapist right away."
The baby blinked a few times, seeming to make an effort to stay awake during all of this.
"Mostly I want to apologize for the fact that you're not going to know where it all comes from once you're of an age to be curious about these things," he said. "Very few people knew about the relationship I had with your father and it's safest if it remains that way, even after I'm gone and this is all over. Because, truth be told, even with Voldemort gone, there will be enough people trying to kill you just for being Harry Potter's son. You don't need my name attached to you as well. At least not until you're old enough."
He paused. Somehow, this was turning out to be the hardest part of all.
"Old enough for what? I don't know," he added. "But I've told Ron not to tell you anything about me until you're ready to hear it. He's agreed, against his better judgment. Or so he says. So I've left it in his hands, despite the fact that I know that will probably make you angry with both him and myself. I just hope you'll be able to look at the big picture and realize that it's all being done for a reason. We're not just trying to spite you. I'm sorry that you're the one who's being left behind in all of this, but I think one day, you'll understand why."
Caleb yawned again and this time allowed his eyelids to slip closed completely.
"For now, I can see that I'm taking away from your precious sleep time," he said, rising from his seat on the rocking chair. "Now, I'm not given to kissing many babies, but I suppose I can make an exception for you."
He kissed Caleb clumsily on the cheek before setting him carefully back in his crib and arranging the blankets over him. The child sighed contentedly and was already well on his way to his innocent dream world when Snape added,
"I love you, Caleb James Potter. Please forgive me."
~~**~~
Once again I do have ideas for more prequels and sequels and whatever opinion you might have on the matter (whether positive or negative) would be very welcome. Thanks for reading!
~Aurora M.