Disclaimer: The characters in this story (except Julius) and the universe in which they exist is the sole property of JK Rowling.

Chapter 11 - The Truth Hurts

Snape had known his parents.

Julius's heart was still racing as he slowly made his way down the dark, empty corridor towards the stairwell, his mind reeling with this new-found information. He had found out what kind of person his father was, but it was not enough; it only created more questions that were begging for answers. What mistakes had his father made? What improprieties did Professor Snape refer to? How did his father die? Whatever happiness he felt earlier in the day was pushed aside, leaving a cold black emptiness upon his heart. If ever he wished for Hermione's presence, it was at this very moment, for she had only to be near to calm his grieving heart.

Julius shivered, and rubbed his arms with his hands, trying to fight off the chill that originated within himself. Forcing his thoughts off his father, he instead contemplated his professor, finding some strange sense of security in him, and he reminisced about the past few sessions and the time they shared together.

The man was obviously brilliant, and Julius wondered how the other students could possibly miss that fact, or not take full advantage of learning under such an ingenious instructor. He had never known anyone else to take so much time and care in how they prepared their ingredients, or monitored the exact temperature of their cauldron. Snape's use of the knife was slow and deliberate, slicing or cutting each ingredient to exact measurements; his potions were magnificently clear and of the smoothest consistency. Julius was beginning to appreciate the fact, that to the Hogwarts Potions Master, potions was not just a line of work, but a true art form, and he knew Snape was an artist of the highest calibre.

The dank, nearly unadorned, stone walls and floors created a surreal echo that clamoured against itself in the late night silence, sounding almost as if there were a dozen people walking in the hall as well as himself, but he did not look back, knowing how the mind played tricks upon those walking in dark places at night. He rounded the corner and began his ascent up the many stairs that lead to the main hall, the echo nearly cacophonous now in the tight confines of the spiral stairwell. This seemed odd to him, as he had not noticed it on his way down with Harry and Hermione, but gave it up to his overactive imagination. For that ,at least, is what he thought it was until he stopped suddenly, confronted by a smirking Draco Malfoy, blocking his path.

"Look what we have here," Draco sneered descending the last few steps that remained between them, "the teacher's pet. Think you're pretty special, do you, DeVere?" The blond-haired boy leaned lightly against the inner curved wall of the stairwell, his arms folded across his chest, hiding his already drawn wand from view in the smocking of his robes.

Julius was in no mood to fight this night, and refused to give in to Malfoy's taunting, just wanting to get back to the Ravenclaw tower. He had too much on his mind, an unbearable heaviness in his heart, now was just not the time. Without saying a word to the boy before him, he turned to make his way back down the stairs to take another route.

"Aw, is mommy's little baby gonna cry?" Draco whimpered dramatically. As Julius turned to award the towhead with a glowering scowl, Draco held up his hands in mock surrender. "No?" he inquired sarcastically, finishing with a nefarious sneer, "Well I assure you, DeVere you are going to be crying soon enough."

As Julius turned to continue his descent down the stairs, ignoring Malfoy's threat, he stopped suddenly, nearly running into Crabbe and Goyle who had apparently been the source of the multiple echoes in the dungeon hall. Really smart, Julius, he thought to himself, glad you were paying so much attention.

Quickly he reached for his wand, but as soon as it was out of his pocket, Draco shouted, "Expelliarmus!" immediately disarming him, expecting Julius's reaction.

Julius was sandwiched between the two hostile parties with no where to run, and without his wand he was no match for the combined brute strength of Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's two gorilla-like toadies. It was only a matter of seconds before he was thrust hard up against the wall and pinned, the two Slytherins each holding an arm and shoulder firmly.

Malfoy was sniggering sinisterly, that infernal smile that graced his lips whenever he got his way spreading across his mouth. "Not looking so tough now, are you, DeVere," he intoned darkly, slowly approaching Julius until he was mere inches from his face, his wand jabbing Julius's throat as Julius had done to him previously. "You didn't really think I was going to let you get away with that little scene in the Great Hall a few weeks ago, did you?"

"You got off easy, Malfoy," Julius retorted, his swarthy eyes gleaming with malice. "If Professor Snape hadn't shown up…"

But he did not have time to finish his speech as Draco jabbed him hard in the stomach with his fist, causing Julius to slump down, the breath knocked out of him. "Trust me, DeVere," he seethed, "No one's going to show up this time, and you are not going to get off easy."

Severus Snape sat quietly, close to the fire in Dumbledore's office the next afternoon, as the staff completed their weekly evaluation meeting. He preferred to sit apart from the rest of the teachers, finding their constant bickering a complete waste of his time and energy that could be better expended elsewhere. The headmaster seemed to perfectly understand this about his potions professor, and often let Severus be. They would talk afterwards.

Snape used this time to reflect once again upon the unfortunate blunders of the prior evening, his mind playing back the scene over and over again as he pretended to listen half-interestedly to the congregated instructors speaking in turn to Dumbledore. He lowered his head slightly, lifting a hand to rub the inner corners of his eyes, wishing that their senseless droning would come to an end soon. Really, how long could Minerva keep on that blasted subject of Dung Bomb fights in the boys' bathrooms.

Severus Snape's thoughts turned back to his son as the meeting continued. Julius had not been at breakfast in the morning, nor in his Potions class that afternoon. Severus had not passed by him in any of the halls, or had he seen him at lunch. The potions master hoped the boy was just ill, and not too affected by what transpired last evening.

After what seemed an eternity to the black sheep of the faculty, the teachers began to disperse, nodding their farewells to the headmaster before filtering out into the hall. Snape remained where he was, his fingers lightly turning his delicate teacup in his fingers, waiting for Dumbledore to make his way over to the fire.

"Something is bothering you, Severus," the headmaster stated matter-of-factly. To many, Snape's emotions were hidden behind an eternal mask of indifference, unreadable, or more often, misunderstood, but to Albus Dumbledore, the potions master was an open book written with large type and lots of pictures. He sat down slowly, his aging frame creaking slightly with the movement, but his blue eyes remained bright and clear as he considered the younger man before him.

"I don't know if I can keep doing this, Headmaster," Snape said quietly, his eyes still locked upon the teacup in his fingers.

"Doing what, exactly?" Dumbledore replied leaning back in his chair with a freshly poured cup of tea, taking a sip, his sparkling eyes gazing evenly at the potions teacher.

Snape finally set the empty teacup he had been fondling upon the small table between them and leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees as he clasped his fingers together. He permitted his head to fall, his glossy obsidian locks hiding his face from view as he sighed , distressed. "I don't even know anymore. Am I his teacher, his mentor, his friend, or his father?"

Dumbledore regarded his colleague with a compassionate smile. "Why can't you be a little of all, Severus?"

"I can't be his father, Albus. We have been all through this before," Snape snapped in annoyance. "I can't just come out and say, 'hello Julius, you may only know me as your potions teacher, but I am really that insufferable lowlife that tossed you and your mother away to follow a man who said he would give me power and fortune if I killed innocent people!' I can't do that, Albus. I just can't."

Dumbledore sat forward slightly, placing a withering hand upon Snape's arm. The man sitting before him was shaking with frustration, his eyes tightly closed as if desperately trying to hold his emotions back. "No one is asking…"

Snape looked up at the headmaster then, pulling his arm away from the old man, his dark eyes red-rimmed, his face colourless. "I want to be his father, Albus, so much that I nearly gave it all away last night." He sat up straight, combing five long articulate fingers through the mop of black hair upon his head, wanting to rip it out in the hopes of drawing the pain to his head and away from his heart. "I've been too careless, too involved. I told the boy last night that I knew his mother, and when he asked about his father…" Snape nearly sobbed then, his face distraught with emotion, his hands shaking in his lap. As his deep onyx eyes met the headmaster's he whispered softly, "My gods, Albus, what have I become."

A/N: Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews. I am really glad you liked the last chapter.

Thank you Arianna for letting me know the french was alright. I dont speak a word of it myself, so I had to rely on an online translator which I don't usually trust very much.

The captain has informed me that we are in for a bumpy ride for the next few chapters, so please fasten your seat belts.