Disclaimer:
I in no way own these characters or anything in this story that you find familiar to J.K.Rowling's Harry Potter world.
I do own any other characters or places that you are unfamiliar with, and no, I am not sharing…
Thanks to my good buddy Harley for beta-ing this chapter... love u harls
anyway on with the show...
ahem
drumroll please
drumroll
that's better
Chapter 1Of Tanning Beds and Pink Champagne…
St. Pritchard's Orphanage was a dank, dirty, shoddily built hovel of an orphanage. It was one of those orphanages that had all the abandoned offspring of homeless people thrust upon it and was forced to take them in. It was horribly overcrowded and everyone who had heard of St Pritchard's had also heard of the way it had to hide about half its inhabitants whenever an OFSTED inspector, or a person of similar authority, visited. This was because the owner of St Pritchard's hated the fact children had actually come to his lovely homely orphanage and changed it into a dirty mess. At first he was proud of the fact he owned such a well respected and widely known property but now he cringed when he thought of it. The Investment That Shan't Be Mentioned was what the staff he employed called it. They of course, had no idea that he knew about their nickname for his idiotic choice of financial investment. Hadn't his father told him it was all about tanning salons? How he should invest some money into purchasing some sun beds and tanning beds? But no, he, Adrian Pritchard, thought he knew better, like always, and decided to ignore his father's well thought advice just because his father had once given him bad advice. His father wasn't to know Adrian would take his advice word for word when he told him to ask the first girl he met to marry him. Of course he meant the first proper girlfriend, a girlfriend who cared about him, not the actual first girl he saw walking down the street. Ever since The Advice That Was Badly Given (his employees name for it), Adrian Pritchard had never listened to his father's advice or even listened to him at all.
As you can tell, Adrian Pritchard wasn't a very nice man who got over things easily. He still was holding grudges from Primary School and he had been known to gamble everything he owned in a game of Poker when he had lost the twenty or so games before hand. He wasn't a good loser, he wasn't a bad loser; he was an awful loser. If he had lost once he would keep trying until he won a game, just so his pride remained intact. He was what some people would call grumpy and what others would call old git. He was dirty, mainly because his father had said when he was younger, "I'll give you some free advice son, never forget to wash behind your ears", and because it was his father's advice, Adrian didn't do it. As a consequence of his many years of ignoring father's ear advice, Adrian Pritchard smelt, very badly. It was bad enough to make some of the younger children at the orphanage cry whenever he visited their rooms to give an inspection and a beating if it wasn't tidy enough. No one ever said anything though, because that would cause you to be noticed, to be picked out from the crowd, and then you would be in Adrian Pritchard's way. A lot of people knew that getting in Adrian Pritchard's way was like poking a sleeping crocodile in between its ribs. A few people didn't know however, and it was these unfortunate people that would get the brunt of Mr. Pritchard's temper. And boy, did he have a temper.
Many of you will be wondering why Adrian Pritchard decided to own an orphanage, because of his obvious hatred of anything small, vulnerable, young, dirty or uneconomical. The only reason he could come up with, albeit a pretty poor one, was that if he had a lot of children under his care then he could tame them from being boisterous children that pushed one another and made rude noises, and make them into Adrian Pritchard clones. He could just imagine it, a new generation of him, and they in turn would bring up their children the same causing the annoyingly perky children that were always popular to be the outcasts. Adrian sighed happily. If he had anyone with whom he could converse with properly then he would have realised that his master plan was a bad one, which would no doubt end in misery and tears, from both him and his 'mini-me's'.
If you are having trouble thinking what this new generation would be like, imagine a whole lot of dirty, smelly, ugly (not just your usual 'walking down the street unnoticed ugly, but very ugly, the type of ugliness that makes you stop, stare, then run off to gag, ugly) fat children. These children wear the same pair of thread bare corduroy trousers and a chequered shirt everyday, have never heard of a razor, deodorant, soap or a toothbrush, and to them, smiling should be punishable by death. Unless, of course, the smile is a smirk. Adrian Pritchard's favourite expression, the smirk, could be regularly seen stretched across his stubbley chin, whenever one of his children went running out of the orphanage crying. Of course he was smirking before the child would run out but that was an enjoyment smirk, this was a cold icy smirk, capable of making grown men's bottom lips tremble.
Adrian Pritchard was inspecting his orphanage today. He felt a smirk pull at his lips, how he loved inspection day! Once a week he inspected the orphanage and had his chance to further embellish his beliefs into the poor children in his care. Pritchard didn't think of them as poor children he thought of them as lucky. The only children with a proper future ahead of them, the lucky ones who were told the truth about the outside world, the lucky children who weren't told that life was easy. Before the orphans could talk they knew all about how the government was a web of lies and blackmail, how taxes were trying to make you bankrupt, how coppers only stopped the lower classes and how the royal family took all his hard earned money and spent it on uniform's for their guards. None of these are in fact true but the children weren't to know that. Inspection day was the only reason he visited his crumbling hovel of an investment. He knew that he had to keep his children on their toes and a good lashing with his belt now and then kept them in order.
There hadn't been a beating in his orphanage for a while so he decided to give a little demonstration today, using the first kid he saw, whether they had done anything wrong or not. So, quite happily he made his way down the gravel path that snaked its way through the weed-ridden mess of a garden. Sighing, he casually remembered how it looked before the beastly orphans started moving in. It was perfect, emerald green lawns with flowerbeds dotted around randomly like islands in a sea of grass. At first it was just flowers being trampled and picked for vases to put on window sills or to be given to guests but then the lawn started to go muddy were it had be worn down and eventually Adrian Pritchard just totally gave up trying to keep it neat.
By the time Adrian had finished reminiscing, he had reached the front door of St Pritchard's. Raising one of his giant fists he knocked on the door smartly, choosing to ignore the way the flimsy door shook in its hinges in protest.
Inside the orphanage things were in chaos. Things were pretty peaceful before they heard the knocking on the door, then a few of the children started to go into hysterics, not because they hadn't tidied their room, or their shoes were scuffed but because they knew someone was going to get beaten. They could tell by the way that Mr Pritchard knocked on the door. Normally he told visitors, not that there were that many visitors, to flap the letterbox a few times because the door was rather unstable and likely to fall out of the frame. If he was risking knocking, not once but three times, then that meant he was in a good enough mood to risk having to spend his money on a new door. The only thing that made Mr Pritchard happy was beating up a kid. And the kids all knew that.
The children were having heated discussions in whispers by the front door, trying to come up with a good reason for them not opening the door. No one was willing to risk it but they knew if he was kept waiting much longer Mr Pritchard would beat them all. Although they were whispering and muttering to one another as quietly as they could, the door was thin and had definitely seen better days, which meant the large smelly man stood on the other side could hear them all perfectly. It didn't make him angry, if anything it made him happier. The children were so scared of him that they wouldn't even open the front door to let him in. Just to spice things up he knocked again.
And heard gasps from the other side and a definite increase in volume of the mutterings, as they all started to talk at once.
"You open it Simpson," He heard a boy say, "You ain't been 'it since you got 'ere. I's your turn!"
"I think one of the younger kids should open it," He heard another voice say. "I think e wouldn't be so bad with a little one."
"Wha'?" He heard a lot of voices say. "Where have you been Clark? He 'ates little uns the most, he would do more to a little un than to a big one."
"Yeah, I think we should make one of the big ones open it. They're stronger so can put up with more." He heard a voice say. A voice that was decidedly young and trembling.
"No way!" A voice exclaimed. "Just 'cause we're bigger doesn't mean we can take it better. He would just do more and for longer."
"He's righ' you know." Another voice said. "But who's gonna open it?"
"I dunno, but someone better do it soon or 'e migh' break down the door!" A thick voice said. It sounded like the owner was on the brink of tears.
"Bloody hell! Just get out of the way!" He heard another voice say. He wasn't much pleased because the voice didn't even seem slightly apprehensive or scared at all. If anything it sounded annoyed as if his visiting was breaking a nice schedule he had planned. The most amazing thing was though that the voice sounded young, like a little kid. Not like a big tough teenager who could fight back.
"God Potter," He heard an awed voice say. "You are either very brave or very stupid. You do know he's gonna hit you don'tcha?"
He heard a rich laugh. "I like to think I'm brave but it's most likely stupidity!" The voice was much closer than it was before. It sounded like it was a few centimetres away, right by the door. Quite suddenly the door was yanked open and before him stood the boy he had come to detest. The one orphan in the entire orphanage that had managed to keep his sense of humour and, for some reason, his slightly upper-class accent. He knew everyone liked Potter. He was helpful and polite to the employees that lived in the orphanage, was kind and friendly to the younger children and helped the older children to read and write and laugh, because they had all managed to become depressed living in such a depressing place. Adrian Pritchard had no idea how he knew how to read and write because he had certainly never been to school, none of the children had. He had always avoided places like schools and doctors where someone would ask questions and one of the miserable children might blurt something out.
Potter's name was Harry James Potter and he had been found on the doorstep of St Pritchard's on November the first 1981. He had nothing to his name except a hastily written note saying, Harry James Potter, child of James and Lily Potter, born 31st July 1980, both parents dead, and a blanket which was gold and red with a lion on. That was five years ago but Harry still had the blanket and it was on his bed. He could not sleep without it for some reason and therefore no one had ever tried to take it away from him. As much as Adrian Pritchard hated his dear children, he didn't want them dead; because that would make the police come and investigate. How would he explain away the death of a young boy through lack of sleep because he had taken his blanket way? It couldn't be done.
Harry had bright green eyes that were full of laughter and jet-black hair which was quite long and hung around his face like silky curtains. He was okay looking to Pritchard, but everyone else would call him something along the lines of gorgeous, sex pot or adorable. He was quite short for his age and pretty skinny but he radiated strength for some reason. He was the only child at the orphanage to have never cried out no matter how hard or regularly he was beaten. The thing everybody thought was rather strange about him though, was the jagged lightning bolt scar on his forehead. Harry had no idea how he could have got it and everybody was sure he had had it when he arrived. He was slightly mischievous and would go to quite some lengths to get people to smile and laugh. Everybody liked him for that and would always try to get him out of trouble when one of his pranks went wrong, although he would never let them take the blame.
But the main reason everybody liked Potter was because he had a strong sense of right and wrong and was very loyal and trustworthy. Many people had told him their secrets and Potter had never once divulged them to anyone else. The boy therefore knew everything that was going on in the orphanage, from innocent things like who stole the bread from the dinner table, to more important secrets like Marie Braque was pregnant. He was the kind of child who everyone loved because he was willing to let himself get hurt if others stayed safe. If a child wasn't feeling too good, Harry would make them get into bed and rest while he made their excuses and did their chores. He even took a beating for someone because the recipient had the flu. And to top it all off he never asked for anything in return.
"Potter" He snarled at the six-year-old looking up at him from inside the house. That would usually be enough for the child to burst into tears and run off but Harry wasn't scared of him so he took it all in his stride and answered as politely as a six-year-old can.
"Hello Mr Pritchard. Isn't it a lovely day today? I am sure you are welcoming it, after all we have had quite a lot of rain recently and the garden could do with some sunshine to help the flowers bloom. I hope you are well, not that you don't look well, of course, you always look well, it's just the wet weather does tend to make some people feel unwell. Anyway, listen to be blabbering on! Where are my manners? Please come inside. Do you want a cup of tea before you start your inspection?" Harry asked as he made his way back from the door to allow the large bulk of Mr Pritchard to fit into the small hallway.
"Well, well, well Potter. You seem rather chirpy this morning. I hope you haven't been doing anything against the rules." Adrian Pritchard said in a soft voice that everyone knew meant DANGER!
"No I haven't done any rule breaking today, Mr Pritchard. I am merely happy that the weather has finally cleared up. The flowerbeds were close to becoming bogs!" Harry answered sweetly.
"No rule breaking today, you say? Does that mean you did some yesterday?" Mr Pritchard asked, as quick as a flash. He wanted to beat Potter for his annoyingly calm and polite voice.
"Well, Mr Pritchard, if I have been doing rule breaking I wouldn't tell you about it would I? As much as you like to think it, I am not stupid." Harry said, starting to get annoyed. Why couldn't the man just inspect the house and leave them be?
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Potter. Wrong answer!" He said smirking cruelly as he began to take off his belt. "Now I'm going to have to teach you some discipline."
"I don't think a man with a waistline such as yours should have the nerve to talk about discipline!" Harry answered much more bravely than he felt inside. In his head he was thinking stupid, stupid, stupid, you just couldn't keep your mouth shut could you? He stood still hoping Mr Pritchard hadn't heard him or didn't understand how much he had just been insulted. Unfortunately for Harry it was one of those days when Mr Pritchard's brain was working.
Mr Pritchard let out of roar of anger and frustration and snapped his belt towards Harry's thin body. Like all the times before Harry didn't whimper, cry or moan at all. He just calmly inspected the gash on his left forearm, which was bleeding freely onto the floor. He didn't even flinch when Mr Pritchard took a step towards him. He just looked him calmly in the eye as if daring him to do more.
Adrian Pritchard never was one to fail to respond to a dare. He lunged towards the small boy alternating between whipping him with the belt and hitting him with his fists. The boy stood still not showing any signs of weakness, not even when the belt buckle sliced his inner wrist causing a large puddle on the floor of dark red liquid. If anything the boy looked angry, very angry as if he wished nothing better than death upon the man half killing him.
Harry glanced down at the blood covering the floor, thinking about how some of the younger ones had spent their morning polishing it. He felt sorry for them. His blood was covering all their hard work. He looked back up at Mr Pritchard just in time to see a fist flying towards his face. He felt an explosion of pain before everything went black. All the children present stared on in shock as their favourite person, everybody's best friend fell to the floor, the rags that were his clothes immediately soaked up some of the blood making it look like his entire body was bleeding.
Above him Harry heard a collective gasp of shock. He didn't know it was because his clothes were still soaking up the blood from the floor. He wasn't to know that all the younger children's hard work was visible once again, without a mark ruining it. He wasn't to know that his body was glowing a light- blue and the cuts on his face, arms and legs were healing before his fellow orphans eyes. He couldn't have known that all the cuts and bruises had disappeared leaving his skin perfect and smooth.
Mr Pritchard's fist had knocked Harry out and all around him Harry could feel darkness. He couldn't just see it, it was deeper than that, like it was worthy of more than just being seen. Harry could feel the darkness penetrating his skin. Unconsciously Harry shivered as he saw lights starting to swirl before his eyes, making him feel dizzy and slightly nauseous.
"Oh my god." Harry heard someone say above him.
"What the fuck was that?" Someone else said, his or her voice trembling. Harry tried to open his eyes, but shut them quickly, flinching at the light. He decided to try his voice. He could hum quite easily, although it sounded a bit creaky. He cleared his throat and sat up gingerly.
"Well at least the floor is clean!" He said hesitantly. Everyone in the dimly lit hallway stared at him before one of the elder boys snorted with laughter. A few seconds later everyone else joined in. Everyone else, that is, except Mr Pritchard. He looked livid and pushed his way towards Harry, through the small crowd of children that had surrounded the injured boy.
"Well Potter. Your little display just now proves what I have always said. You are a disgusting freak. You are abnormal. You do not deserve to be even here! You are corrupting the minds of normal children and now you are showing off your freakishness for everyone to see! Freak!" Mr Pritchard started rambling on about freaks under his breath as he towered over the six-year-old. Looking down, Mr Pritchard felt a kind of satisfaction seeing fear in the young boy's eyes. Harry had never let his fear show on his face. He knew it was exactly what the evil orphanage owner wanted to see. But now was different. Mr Pritchard never rambled on, he never beat anyone up in front of a crowd, let alone fellow employees and he never came in for a second attack. Never.
With a small yelp, Harry leapt up from the floor and ran out of the open door into the overgrown garden. Unfortunately, for Harry, Mr Pritchard was particularly good at running, a gift he acquired during his school years thanks to all the bullies that were after him. Adrian Pritchard lunged at the youngster and grabbed him around the ankles, hearing with delight the crack of a broken wrist as the boy crashed to the floor for the second time that morning. He smelt earth and a grassy smell as he laid face down on the front lawn of the falling-down orphanage. What are you doing just lying there Harry? He shouted at himself, get up and run you idiot! He's gonna get you if you don't move. Adrian Pritchard picked himself up, rubbed his clothes down and bent forward over Harry.
"Shit…" Harry swore under his breath as he felt the large hands of Mr Pritchard pin his arms by his sides as he was carried back into the orphanage. The crowd of children and employees stared as the couple passed, Mr Pritchard with a smirk of satisfaction of his face and Harry with a blank expressionless face.
"We'll see just how long you can keep the bravery act up then shall we Potter?" Mr Pritchard asked him as they passed further into the orphanage, away from any escape routes. Harry had no idea what Mr Pritchard was up to but he knew he wasn't going to like it at all. "Ah, let's see… That'll do nicely." He heard Mr Pritchard mumble before he was thrown from a great height into the small cupboard where wellington boots were kept and old newspapers stacked.
Before Harry could say a word the cupboard door was slammed shut, leaving him in total darkness, with his body squashed into a foetal position. There was hardly room to breathe.
Harry just sat, not moving, ion the cupboard for a few hours. He couldn't be sure how many hours but he would guess at maybe three or four, before the cupboard door opened. Mr Pritchard was stood there looking down at him with a huge smirk threatening to over power his face.
"Having fun in there, Potter?" He asked in a deadly quiet voice. "Sure you don't want to come out and play?" Harry didn't even think about it. He knew perfectly well that Mr Pritchard was looking for weakness. If he said he wanted to come out then he would be beaten up again, and again and again. So instead he answered in a cheery voice.
"Actually Mr Pritchard I'm quite comfortable in here. I could do with a book or something, you know." Harry tried not to laugh at the expression of shock on the ogre's face.
"Oh you could, could you?" Mr Pritchard asked about a minute later when he had stopped being shocked by Harry's answer and regained his fight stance. "Well we can't have dear Mr Potter getting bored in there now can we?" And with that he threw the yellow pages into the small cupboard and slammed the door shut again. Harry heard him lock it from the outside.
Harry spent the next five days or so locked in the cupboard, in a delirious trance. He couldn't sleep because he didn't have his blanket with the lion on, and soon found himself too exhausted to actually sleep. His legs and derrière were numb from being in the same position and his broken wrist ached every time he even thought about moving it. Mr Pritchard gave him a piece of bread and cheese once every six hours and a glass of water every twelve. Harry was surprised he was being so generous. He wasn't expecting anything more than a piece of bread once a day! Harry tried to keep his sanity by reading the yellow pages that had been thrown at him but after five days of isolation and reading plumbing advertisements Harry was beginning to lose it. He even admitted it to himself. He didn't even have the energy to try and escape whenever the door was left open or unlocked.
Adrian Pritchard was getting very annoyed with the six-year-old Potter kid. He had been locked in that cupboard for a full working week and he wasn't showing any weakness. Of course he looked exhausted and he was much thinner, which, seeing as Harry had always been thin was saying something, but he was still ignorant and answered back to Mr Pritchard whenever he opened the door. It was getting too much for him and he knew his brain would go into overload if he kept the boy in there any longer. How was the kid surviving? He should at least be screaming and crying or trying to beg his way out of the cupboard. If Mr Pritchard didn't know better he would say that Harry enjoyed being in there.
He decided to do something big, just to get a human reaction from the child. He knew it would be taking a risk to do it and it would cause a lot of trouble if anyone found out or if it went wrong, but the way Adrian Pritchard's brain worked wasn't the same as a normal person's, who would have realised just how stupid it would be. He awoke early the next morning and crept towards the small dark cupboard. With a trembling hand and an evil smirk he unlocked the door and opened it slowly. The Potter boy was sat with his arms wrapped around his legs, apparently in some sort of stupor, no doubt brought on by the lack of nourishment and sleep. Carefully, Mr Pritchard pulled a small silver rectangle from his back pocket and flicked open the lid. It was the last thing his Dad had ever given him before The Badly Given Advice. It was the family's only heirloom. Adrian had no idea why he had kept it, apart from the fact it was worth a lot of money and he hadn't the heart, for some reason, to sell it. The thing in his hand was a solid silver cigarette lighter.
Harry Potter pulled himself from his comatose state, when he was finding it difficult to breathe and his legs felt like they were on fire, only to find that he was indeed on fire. He tried to yell out to someone for help but due to lack of use his voice just wasn't working. It wouldn't have mattered if his vocal chords were working because Mr Pritchard had decided to get all the children out of the house so he could deal with Potter himself, without children making nuisances of themselves.
As it just so happened, it was several of the orphan's birthdays the day before and so he had sent the entire population of the orphanage, minus Harry, to the beach for a special day/night out. He himself had left the scene of the crime a few seconds after committing it. He set fire to the yellow pages that was resting on the boy's legs and hurriedly left, after, of course, making sure the cupboard door was locked. Adrian Pritchard made sure of the fact the neighbour's saw him as he walked past; by complaining at the top of his voice about the mess their cats' left in his garden; that he got a speeding ticket from the speed camera at the end of the road; and the owner of the corner shop noticed him buying the paper. Good, he thought to himself, now I have a foolproof alibi, no one could even think it was I!
Harry, still trapped in the blazing cupboard, had more important things to think about than whether or not Mr Pritchard had an alibi or even where the hell he had gone. It was only now that he noticed the door of the cupboard was made of metal and therefore would not burn away. Trust the only sturdy thing in this damn orphanage to be the thing stopping me from escaping, he thought viciously. Harry was a very brave person and didn't usually think about fear, preferring to hide any scared emotions deeply in his mind. Instead of worrying about being burnt to death Harry focussed his thoughts on the blanket of the lion that he was found swaddled in. For some reason that Harry didn't understand, he always thought of the lion blanket with its red and gold colours whenever he felt scared, it helped soothe his nerves and feel the need to retaliate. Right now Harry was thinking of the blanket in one part of his mind and in the other part a voice in his head was chanting I want my mummy and daddy, I want my mummy and daddy, I want my mummy and daddy. Harry continued to chant this under his breath as he felt the flames lick the material of his shirt. He cringed at the pain as his skin bubbled due to the intense heat. Finally it became too much and feeling something welling up inside of him, Harry yelled, "I WANT MY MUMMY AND DADDY!" and collapsed as the flames engulfed him.
Severus Snape was the potions master at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had a very pale complexion which was only exaggerated by the darkness of his shoulder length black hair. His ebony eyes looked like dark deep holes burnt into his ghostly face, and, at the moment they were narrowed in concentration. He scanned the black and white chequered board set before him on the small oak table. Licking his lips thoughtfully he considered his options, he could move the knight and check his queen or he could risk moving his only remaining pawn to defend his King from the black bishop, that however meant endangering his King to a castle. He sighed agitatedly, if only Albus wasn't so damn observant, he might stand a chance.
Defeatedly he ordered his pawn to E6, the small white pawn looked up at him and pulled a disgusted face before moving in front of the bishop. The old man sat opposite him clapped his hands in delight before ordering the smug looking castle in front of the white King.
"Checkmate!" He announced happily, flicking his belt length silvery beard over his shoulder, while all the white pieces made their way slowly off the board, frowning and throwing death glares at Severus. "So, Severus," Albus asked him while repositioning all the pieces. "What did you want to discuss?" He then looked up at Severus Snape, who was still frowning at the chessboard, and gave him a questioning glance.
"Well, Albus, I just wanted to discuss with you my teaching position." Severus began hesitantly, as if he knew exactly how this conversation would end, and he did not like what he was expecting. "I have been the potions teacher for five years now and I still think it would be better for everyone if I took the position of defence against the darks arts teacher. I mean, I have the experience in that field and it would certainly do the students good if they had teacher that lasted longer than a year." Severus stated calmly. He knew yelling at the docile headmaster wouldn't get him anywhere at all. Albus Dumbledore would probably offer him a sherbet Lemon and tell him it was good to let his anger out.
Albus looked up at the pale man sat opposite and thought, not for the first time, that he looked remarkably like a vampire. Severus shivered involuntarily as the blue eyes scanned him, it felt like his insides were on show. Knowing Albus, the man probably was looking at his insides, to see if he could find a reason to deny Severus of his occupation choice again. Suddenly the old man stopped staring at him and his gaze fell to the floor.
"You know why I don't want you to have the job Severus. You are an excellent potions teacher, one of the best Hogwarts has ever had. I don't see the point of dismissing an excellent teacher to a new post that I only think he will be good at it. I will never in a million years find a teacher as good as you are." Seeing the vamp-like man droop visibly at his words the headmaster quickly added, "Sorry."
"Sorry? Sorry? That's all you've got to say for yourself? Sorry?" Severus burst out, his mouth going onto autopilot. "I have wanted that goddamned job all my life! I got an outstanding on my D.A.D.A N.E.W.T! How can you even say that I am a better potion teacher than a defence one? You are being ridiculous! I think you just don't want me to be happy. You don't trust me to teach your precious students curses and such, just in case I go back to my deatheater ways?" Severus stared at the Headmaster, spit frothing in the corners of his mouth.
"Severus you know I don't think that. If you're angry then you should rant. It's better to let it all out than to bottle it up insi-" Albus began but was cut off by a roar from Severus Snape, as he bounded towards him, sending chess pieces flying. Anything Severus was going to shout at him was temporarily forgotten because at that exact moment a flash of light filled the office and a young voice, thick with tears was crying out, "I WANT MY MUMMY AND DADDY!"
Albus looked at Snape shocked. Snape looked at Albus shocked. Both their jaws dropped as they stared at one another and the ball of flashing light suspended in mid-air in the middle of Albus Dumbledore's office.
"Erm, what is that Albus?" Severus asked, looking perplexed.
"I am not quite sure but I am pretty positive it's accidental magic. Which means that a magical child wants its parents, badly. But why is it here? I can assure you that I have fathered no one that could be of accidental magic age. So, do you have any kids you haven't told me about Severus?" Albus answered and asked at the same time.
"No I have no children, do you see me rushing home to see the kids at Christmas?" Severus snapped back.
"Well, could you have fathered any and not known?" Albus asked carefully, seeing the dark emotions in Severus's eyes. He knew that Severus's own family had disowned him when he was merely eleven. Abandoning him at platform 9 ¾.
"Excuse me! What kind of person do you think I am? I have you know I have only done it with one-person onc-" Severus's voice trailed off as he realised what he was saying. He remembered back almost seven years to Hallowe'en when a very beautiful young lady with brilliant green eyes and fiery hair had visited his house because it was his birthday…
Severus had been sitting in the lonely chair in the kitchen next to the small table, which was laid for one person's meal. He took the lonesome china cup and drank the cooling tea quickly, downing it in one mouthful. He ate his single piece of plain toast and wiped his hands with a plain white napkin. He carefully picked up the paper which had been folded in half and now had an edge sharp enough to cause papercuts. If Severus didn't know better he would have said it had been ironed in half. Smiling slightly he scanned the front page, nothing interesting jumped out to make him read it properly.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Or to be precise three knocks. Three very excited sounding knocks. Rolling his eyes Severus got up to answer it, wondering briefly who it could be. As soon as he opened the door an obviously hyperactive young woman smothered him as she wrapped her arms around him in a rib-crushing hug.
"Happy Birthday Severus!" She said as she squeezed him even tighter.
"What are you doing here?" Severus asked stupidly, when he was finally allowed to breathe.
"What do you mean, what am I doing here? It's your birthday and knowing you, you have decided to spend it alone reading the paper. Am I right?" She asked raising her delicate eyebrows at the confused looking man who was still trying to get his breath back.
Without waiting for an answer she walked around him into his house and walked straight to the breakfast table where the paper lay. She picked it up, turned to face him and wrinkled her nose in disgust. "How could you even think about reading the goddamned paper on your birthday?" She asked. "You are meant to stay in bed till noon, then have breakfast in bed and lounge about opening your presents. Then you and your friends go and do something fun, like watch a muggle movie or go ice-skating or something. Severus, where is your brain today?"
"I should be asking where your brain is! One slight flaw in your plan, I don't have any friends to go ice-skating or to the muggle movies with!" Severus answered angrily.
To his surprise the beautiful girl in front of him didn't look sorry or sympathetic, but a cross between angry and very upset. "What am I then?" She asked, her voice thick with emotion.
Severus sighed. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that." He apologised quietly, then walked over to the girl and wrapped his arms soothingly around her petit form. She leant into the embrace and rested her head on his shoulder. Severus could feel her warm breath on his neck, and felt something rise up from his stomach. He knew that feeling. It was the feeling he got whenever he was around this girl, whenever she touched him, looked at him or even said his name. It was love, and for some reason he felt pressure to tell her how he felt. He tried to fight it but his mouth had different ideas.
"Iloveyou!" He suddenly blurted out. The girl pulled away slightly so she could look into his eyes.
"What was that? A sneeze?" She asked, her emerald eyes gazing into his. Any doubts he had before faded away as he saw love reflecting back at him, through her eyes. He took a deep breath and let his mouth go onto autopilot, like it always did when he let his emotions control him.
"No, it wasn't a sneeze. I was merely answering your earlier question." Severus said calmly. The girl screwed up her nose in concentration as she tried to remember what she had asked earlier. Then it came to her.
"So. Am I your friend?" She said her voice filled with sarcasm and amusement.
Severus laughed before answering. "No actually, I do not consider you as a friend at all. I never have come to think of it." The girl looked like she was about to cry. A few tears had already snaked their way down her sunkissed cheeks. Using his hands, he gently turned her head so she was looking into his eyes. "I don't think of you as a friend because I don't like you. I love you." He watched as the girl's eyes widened in shock and he took the opportunity to kiss away the tears on her face. By the time he had finished her eyes weren't surprised, they were shining at him, as though they themselves were smiling. Without warning she once again launched herself upon him but this time he wasn't suffocated by her arms but by the lips pressing themselves against his.
"So, Sevvy, what do you say to lazing about in bed till noon? It was in the original plan y'know!" The beauty asked when they finally came up for air. Her eyes were alive with mischief and she was failing to hide the grin that had appeared on her lips.
"Sevvy?" he asked in mock disgust. Then he pouted. "That sounds fun but I want my pwesents first!" He said in a baby voice. His ears were filled with the girl's rich laugh. He loved her laugh, not very many people could refrain from laughing too when they heard the girl laugh. She always made laughing contagious.
"Well," She answered slowly, deliberately dragging out the word. "I did just happened to bring a bottle of twelve year old pink Champagne!"
"Pink? Why is it pink?" He asked, his brain was feeling woolly.
She sighed and rolled her eyes. "It's pink because your stupidity is embarrassing it!" Severus pretended to look hurt and she laughed again. Before twisting out of their embrace, walking over to her bag and pulling a wine bottle out of it. Grinning, Severus walked into the kitchen and collected two crystal goblets out of a cabinet. He turned to look for the girl but she had gone.
"Where are you?" he asked, confused. "This is no time to play hide and seek!" He heard her gorgeous laugh through the wall and immediately knew she was in his bedroom, the saucy minx! Laughing to himself he walked through the open door to find the girl lying down on his bed with the wine bottle between her knees, trying to pop the cork. Her eyes were screwed up with concentration. Smiling he crept up to her side before leaning over and kissing her, rather chastely, on her forehead. The cork flew across the room.
A few hours, a couple of glasses of pink champagne and a lot of noise later, he and the girl were lying under the covers with their arms around each other. Severus was admiring the way her hair surrounded her head like a golden red halo. He told her so and she blushed before burying her face in his chest. He gasped as her silky locks splayed across his bare chest. He could feel her smiling as she turned her head to look across the room.
She sat up and frowned at his left arm. A sinking feeling flooded Severus's stomach as she reached out for it, a look of horror filled her eyes as she realised what exactly it was that was burned into his skin. She gasped quite comically and had the situation not been so bad Severus would have laughed at it. The girl leapt out of bed, picking up clothes as she made her way to the door. Severus sat there in shock for a few seconds before coming to his senses and charging after her. She was already at the door, fully dressed, when he entered the living room. She turned her head to look at him.
"Happy Birthday, death eater." Then she left. Severus was left standing in the lounge, totally naked, as darkness filled the room.
"I love you Lily Evans." He whispered.
Severus sat there in shock, as the ball of light continued to cry out for help and Albus Dumbledore stared at him. He couldn't believe it. The only person that he had ever gone that far with was Lily Evans, and the only child she had ever had was The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter. That would mean that the boy was his son. He checked in his mind- October 31st,
November 31st, December 31st, January 31st, February 31st, March 31st, April 31st, May 31st, June 31st, July 31st, the boy's birthday. In the name of Merlin, it was exactly nine months from when he and Lily got together to when little Harry was born. It couldn't just be a coincidence. Harry was definitely his.
"Albus?" He asked, his voice trembling as he realised the enormity of what this meant for both him and the child.
"Who?" The old headmaster only had to ask, as he had seen the look of blinding realisation etched upon Severus's face. He realised that Severus had just worked out something to do with him and the girl- whoever she was- that he had said he had done it with.
Severus turned to face him, his own face full of shock. "Lily Evans." He managed to croak out. Albus stood up in shock and stared at the younger man.
"Are you sure Severus?" he asked completely confused. "I mean, that would make Harry Potter, well Harry Snape. Are you totally sure? One hundred percent positive?"
"Of course I am sure, you idiot! You think I'd make up something like that?" Severus snarled and was going to elaborate but suddenly stopped. "Harry needs me. That's why he did accidental magic. He's in danger, we've got to find him!"
"You're right! We better get goin-" Albus started to say but stopped. "Do you know where he is?" He watched as Severus's face crumpled visibly.
"No! I have absolutely no idea where he is. What kind of father does that make me?" He asked and was obviously starting to go hysterical.
"The type of father that only just found out they are fathers." Albus answered dryly. "No, all we have to do is trace the magic back to where it came from, by touching the sphere of light that is rather conveniently still here." Without any further talk Severus and Albus both reached out a hand and touched the white flashing ball, and felt a familiar pull behind their navels like a hook was reeling them in. "Hmm, a portkey at his age, must be very powerful then." Severus heard Albus mutter as they disappeared from his office and landed in an undignified heap on the floor of a rather dirty building.
It was obviously uninhabited as there was no one running around, talking or making any noises that one would associate with a human being or any living thing making. The floor was rather dirty though had the look that it was once well looked after and polished frequently. The floral wallpaper was peeling off the wall due to damp in many places but also looked like it was once well kept. The wooden front door was hanging crookedly from rusty hinges, seemingly only held on by the sellotape that ran along the full length of the hinged side. Severus and Albus both noticed the heavy bolts and other locks that stopped the door from being opened without a key. These seemed unnecessary because it was more than likely you could just kick down the flimsy door than bother with a key. The two wizards pulled themselves off one another and off the ground, before the conversation started again. They only had one subject worthy of discussion. Where was Harry?
"Well, he's not here Severus. Unless he was only here for a short while and has been taken away. You don't think he's been kidnapped do you?" Albus asked Severus, the usual twinkle in his eyes was gone.
"You don't think he has been kidnapped do you?" Severus asked a worried looking Albus Dumbledore. "Any one who has hurt a hair on my son's head is going to get a little message from m-" He suddenly stopped and stared in horror at the black smoke billowing from behind a metal door. He leapt towards it and magicked it open, with a wave of his dark mahogany wand. A small body fell out, skin burned, clothes; smouldering rags, hair burnt short in places. The only things that were recognisable about him were the brilliant green eyes that opened as Severus picked him up gently.
"Thankyou," The young boy said to Severus, who now had tears running unashamedly down his face. "Daddy." The boy finished before exhaustion, which had been threatening to engulf him for days, took him over and he closed his eyes. Albus walked over to the cupboard where the boy was hidden and put out the fire with his wand. He turned to Severus and said very quietly so as not to wake the child,
"This was deliberate." The man nodded to show that he had heard before walking toward the rotting front door. He was going to find out where they were so he could come back later and investigate. He reached up to undo the bolt at the very top of the door when Albus's next words slipped through into his mind, bringing himself back to reality and the situation at hand.
"You need to get him to a hospital soon, Severus. He looks pretty bad and we don't know how long he has been in this state. Why don't we go to Hogwarts, I'm sure Poppy can sort him out. She doesn't leave Hogwarts until the middle of August." Severus looked down at his son sleeping silently in his arms. He smiled slightly as he noticed the way Harry fitted perfectly into his arms, like they were mean to be together. He didn't think much of Divination or of Fate but he decided it definitely was fate that he and Harry were meant to find one another in this way. He also felt rather depressed that the first time he met his son, it was because he was being burnt to death while locked in a cupboard with no escape. Harry shifted slightly in his arms, groaning quietly while still asleep, reminding his father that he needed urgent medical attention.
"OK, Albus, let's go to Hogwarts." Was all he could manage before his voice cracked with all the emotions running through him. He walked over to the old forgotten fireplace, which looked as though it had never actually had a fire lit in it in its life, and muttered a spell. The fireplace roared to life with a crackling purple fire and behind him, Albus pulled a small velvety bag out of one of the bottomless pockets in his midnight blue robes. He opened the bag threw a handful of sparkling green dust into the fireplace and looked at Severus expectantly.
"You go first, with Harry, and get him to Poppy quickly." Albus said. Severus just nodded and walked into the fire, holding Harry firmly yet carefully so as not to hurt him any more than he was already. Harry wrinkled his nose in his sleep. The gesture reminded Severus of Lily, all those years ago. Smiling gently, Severus kissed the smooth skin on Harry's forehead, just to side of the infamous scar.
"The Hospital Wing, Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" He just managed to shout into the flames before he was whisked away, holding his son gently against his chest. Albus stared after them, the twinkle in his eyes was still absent but it had been replaced with a slight sparkle as he watched the man carefully holding his son against him. Finding out Harry was his son was the one thing that could sort out Severus's life for good, and even though he seemed completely shocked and surprised that Harry was his, Albus could tell Severus was extremely happy. Probably happier now he has Harry than if I told him he got the defence against the dark arts teaching position, Albus thought amusedly.
"Why Harry though?" That was all he could think of to say before he too stepped into the once again purple flames, and, with a pinch of powder was off to the school which he had been in charge of for almost half a century.