Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the marvelous J.K. RowlingI'm just borrowing.
Summary: What happens when a mistake made in a fit of drunkenness comes back to haunt Severus 16 years later? And what of Harry? R for later chapters, mild language, sexual innuendo, and slight BZ (Blaise Zambini)/HP Slash in later chaptersNOT HP/SS SLASH!*
And Then, Things Got Complicated
Chapter One: The Mirror Never Lies
Staring at his reflection in the dimly-lit bathroom, Harry studied the image peering back at him. It was almost as if he were looking at a total stranger. His hair, once thick and unruly, was now as thin as silk and hanging down in soft, straight locks that fell to his chin. His face, no longer round and childness, had not only lost its childish roundness, but also had lengthened some. His face was most noticeably different than anything else, as it had changed the most. His cheekbones, high and regal, could easily have rivalled the elder Malfoy's. His eyes, still strikingly emerald green, were more almond shaped now, with long, thick black lashes that gave him a decisively exotic and mysterious look. His nose, while distinctly more romanesque, was still straight but, his mouth, full and pouty as usual, remained unchanged. Had Harry had an ounce of vanity in his blood, he could have easily called himself striking, or even stunningwell, as far as a man can BE either striking or stunning, that is. One thing was certain, though. He was no longer a carbon-copy of his father, James Potter. In fact, were it not for their shared name, no one would have been able to guess that they were even related.
A dull ache surged through his back and Harry realized, for the first time, that he actually had to slump over now to look into the mirror. He was no longer a mere 5'5", but a towering 6'3", with shoulders to rival the 'great, greasy git's'. Harry quickly snapped out of his daze when he heard the sounds of people stirring in #4 Privet Drive. With a quick stretch, Harry shook himself out of his daze and began to get ready for the day, knowing he would not have time once the Dursleys were up and about. Despite his friends' threats, the Dursleys had treated him appallingly since he had come home from his fifth year at Hogwarts.
Throwing on some of Dudley's old pants, which were more like skater shorts now, and an old tee-shirt, which seemed to fit his longer torso better now that he had grown, Harry rushed out of the bathroom and headed for the kitchen, never noticing that his glasses had not left his desk since that morning.
*
Harry cooked in silence as the three sour-faced Dursleys made their way into their kitchen, muttering disdainfully about Harry under their breath. He only briefly glanced up when he heard the ruffle of newspaper, which meant he was being effectively ignored by his uncle. Harry started violently when he saw the date, 'JULY 31st'. It had been his birthday for nine hours and he had not even realized it. Shrugging slightly, he put it down to the fact that he had not been sleeping that well lately and, as of last June, he had stopped caring about much of anything. Harry could honestly care less that he was the either ignored, or made to do hard labor by his Aunt and Uncle. He could care less that his cousin, despite Harry's towering height, used him as a punching bag, and he could care less that he hadn't had a letter from either Ron or Hermione in over a month. The one person Harry had cared about had been snatched from him, and it had been his fault. No matter what anyone said, Harry knew that it was HIS, and only his fault that Sirius had died. So, Harry merely went through the motions of living, keeping his promise to write to Moody and Remus, keeping his letters cheery, if only to keep them at bay. But in reality, Harry was anything but cheery and, when he wasn't performing back-breaking labor, or recoving from his cousin's sound beatings, he was holed up in his dark, cave-like room, pouring over his old text books, if only to distract his mind. Harry, starting at the sound of the rustle of newspaper, shook himself from his thoughts before he made the mistake of burning the Dursleys' sausage.
Silently putting their breakfast in front of them, he sliced a small orange for himself and was about to sneak out when the sharp voice of his Aunt Petunia stopped him.
"Boy, get back here now! You have chores to do and I want them done before lunch! The list is on the table and I expect you to get to work at once! We are having company this evening and I want this house in tip-top shape, understood?"
"Yes, Aunt," muttered Harry, his voice complacent.
"Good. Now, here, take the list and get to it". With that, a long, scrawled list of chores was thrust into Harry's hand and he was shoved out of the kitchen.
'mow the front, back, and side lawns; wash all the windows, inside AND outside; prune the bushes out front; water the garden; do Dudley's dirty laundry, make all the beds, mop the kitchen floor, vaccuum, dust, and do the dishes, and clean those bathrooms! Company will be here shortly before 2pm so, I expect everything to be done BEFORE then or no dinner for a week! '
With a slightly defeated sigh, Harry set to work, knowing that his body would not hold out if he had to go without food for another two days, let alone a week. It was only through Remus's generous gift of Honeyduke's Chocolate that Harry was able to maintain his abismally sparse diet. Even though he had splurged on chocolate and sweets, he had still managed to loose weight in the process of shooting up a good ten inches, leaving him nearly as thin as a rail.
Heading outside, Harry got to work, working long and hard, not even stopping for a water or bathroom break, as he might have done on any other day. His back ached from the furvor with which he was tackling his chores and he seemed nearly on the verge of blacking out at least twice before he finished his chores in time to grab a slice of stale bread and a half a glass of water before it was time for him to disappear for the afternoon.
Sweaty and tired, he trudged upstairs to his room and as good as collapsed onto his bed in time to see three, large owls come sweeping into his window. The first owl, white and fluffy, he recognized as his own Hedwig, the second looked like Remus's own gray Aggie, and the third was a regal-looking Hogwarts' owl, bearing a thick letter with the Hogwart's seal. Ignoring the other two owls for the moment, Harry snatched the Hogwarts letter and tore it open, knowing what was inside.
Quickly unfolding the sealed envelope, he saw three pieces of parchment drop into his lap.
(reading) "Dear Mr Potter,
We are pleased to inform you of your exemplary performance in your O.W.L.s Your results were as follows:
Charms (practical): E, Charms (written): E, O.W.L.: E
Divination (practical): E, O.W.L.:E
Herbology (written): A, Herbology (practical):E, O.W.L.: E
Care of Magical Creatures (written): O, Care of Magical Creatures (practical): E, O.W.L.: O
Defense Against the Dark Arts (written):O, Defense Against the Dark Arts (practical): O, O.W.L.: O
History of Magic (written):P, O.W.L.:P
Astronomy (written): E, Astronomy (practical): excused, O.W.L.: E
Potions (written): E, Potions (practical):O, O.W.L.:O
Transfiguration (written): E, Transfiguration (practical):O, O.W.L.: O
Congradulations, Mr. Potter, you have received a total of 8 O.W.L.s! The following is a list of classes you have met the standard to enroll for in in the next year, if you so choose.
Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts
Advanced Transfiguration
N.E.W.T. level Potions
Additional N.E.W.T. level classes may be added, at your own request.
Sincerely, Jameson Patters
O.W.L. Board of Trustees."
Harry, barely able to contain his excitement, quickly scanned the other two letters, one telling him that the Hogwarts Express leaves 'precisely at 11am on September the first at Kings' Cross, on Platform 9 3/4,' the other listing the books that he would need for his advanced classes. Smiling to himself for the first time in a month, Harry lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. 'Perhaps life isn't too bad, after all'.