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A/N: Once again, my apologies for the slow update...

My Son One and Only

Chapter 4

Wistful Thinking

The first thing Neville noticed upon waking up was that his head wasn't aching anymore. This was a true relief, and for a moment he just lay where he was, enjoying this comforting feeling.

Then, however, he realized that he had no idea where he was. Glancing around, he recognized his surroundings as the Hogwarts Infirmary. Confused at this, he tried to remember...

And then, he remembered. It all hit him like a huge wave of memories, emotions, pictures. Diagon Alley, his Gran, and Death Eaters, and the Dark Mark and Aurors and...

Gran. Gran was dead.

For a moment, Neville felt sick, then empty. Then he sighed and let his head sink further back into the pillow, closing his eyes. A thousand thoughts crossed his mind. What would he do now? Where would he live? His Gran's house was the only home he knew, and Gran was his only close relative -- well, aside from his parents. However, he was only sixteen, and his parents hardly could care for him.

Sighing again, he then sat up. It would do no good to dwell in it. Rather, he needed to find out what was wrong with him -- or had been, considering that he now felt much more healthy.

Just then, Madam Pomfrey walked in. As she saw him sitting on his bed, she froze, her eyes wide. The next second, however, she seemed recovered enough to fuss, hurrying over to him and starting to examine him.

"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked while casting about a dozen different diagnosis charms on him. "Are you tired? Dizzy? Do you feel any pain?"

"I feel great," Neville replied, a bit confused. After all, he had only been knocked out, right? That hardly should cause such an amount of fussing. "I'm not tired or dizzy or anything. In fact, I feel better than I have in months. Well, physically anyway." Swallowing, he forced himself to ask, "Is -- is Gran really --"

"Dead? I'm afraid so." Madam Pomfrey sighed, but then immediately cheered up. "Now, don't think about it! You have to concentrate on recovering. You were in a really bad condition just a short time ago."

Recovering? But he felt fine. He didn't have any reason to recover. Knowing better than to disagree with her, though, he was quiet, silently enduring all her poking and prodding.

At some point, however, he would have some answers. For example, he wanted to know whether he had just dreamed somebody by the side of his bed.

But if he hadn't dreamed, who had it been?

"Fine, Minerva. So I was wrong for the first time in my life. Now, be happy that it means one of your dear Gryffindors survives and not the opposite," Severus snapped. "And, if it only is in any way possible, leave me alone. I'm not exactly on the mood for social interaction."

"Are you ever?" asked the other Head of a House, raising an eyebrow, but indeed left. There was a spring in her step that had been lacking for quite some time, Severus noted. Were they all truly so delighted over the recovery of a single student?

Of course, he couldn't exactly claim to be unhappy about it, either. At least now he knew that Nicholas was alive and well, even if the boy wasn't his. The news of Neville's recovery had confirmed Albus' words -- it truly was Nicholas lying in the Hospital Wing.

As much as he was delighted about this, however, he was also slightly upset -- well, more than slightly. While the news indeed confirmed that his son was alive, it also confirmed that Albus had lied to him -- and ruined his life. How many quiet evenings of silent longing could he have avoided, how many sleepless nights would he have slept through? How many times would he have had only one grave to visit -- and somebody by his side to visit it with him?

He would never forgive this crime, he decided. No matter what, he wouldn't forgive Albus for taking his son away from him.

At least now he could watch his son, although he would have to stay away. To be honest, though, he wasn't sure whether this was better or worse than his former situation.

"You should tell him, you know."

Severus did not even look up. "It is too late, Albus," he said, carefully keeping his voice as emotionless as possible. "He is Frank and Alice's now, not mine. His parents are two people lying in St. Mungo's, not a woman in grave and a bitter man in the dungeons. And that, Albus, is entirely your fault."

"That I cannot deny," sighed the Headmaster. "However, I would like to see you to fix things now. The boy is all alone, Severus. His grandmother is dead, and Frank and Alice are indeed in St. Mungo's. At the moment he has no family to speak of. You could offer him a family."

"I know all too well what it is like to grow up with a father you hate," Severus said bitterly. "I'd rather not give my own son the same experience."

"Then teach him not to hate you," the ancient wizard said. "Show him the good man you are beneath that harsh exterior of yours. Show him the real Severus."

"The real Severus died sixteen years ago," the Potions Master replied coldly. "I buried him next to Nicholas -- or, rather, next to Frank and Alice's child. It is better for all involved that he stays there."

"So you'll let your son be without a family?" Albus pressed on. "He needs you, Severus -- and he deserves to know the truth."

"The truth would ruin his life completely," replied Severus coolly. "You're wrong, Albus. The last thing he needs is me." His gaze hadn't wavered from the papers on his desk even once during the whole conversation. "If he deserves to know the truth, why did I not deserve the same thing? If he needs me, why didn't you let me keep him?" He glared at the Headmaster. "You have meddled with my life -- and my son's, too -- enough as it is, Albus. Now leave me be."

Now, he heard only silent footsteps. Soon even those disappeared. Sighing, Severus set his forehead down on his folded arms.

Why did everything have to be so difficult?

By now Neville had got confident enough to dare to actually ask questions. Thus, he dared to ask the one that bothered him most.

"Madam Pomfrey?" he asked carefully. "Did anybody visit my room while I was unconscious?"

"Several people, dear," the mediwitch replied, smiling slightly. "Myself, mostly. However, Professor McGonagall has also been here often to see you. Professors Sprout and Snape have also been here to see your condition. Why do you ask?"

"Well..." Neville hesitated. Surely they'd think he was just silly, but still, he had to know. "Last night... Well, at least I think it was last night... somebody was here. I think. I mean, I could have just as well been dreaming, but I truly thought there was somebody here. It's really vague, but I think I remember having a nightmare... Then, suddenly, somebody was there. They held me... I felt safe." He flushed a bit at his silly confession. He was sixteen, after all; he shouldn't need to be held like a little child.

"I'm afraid it was just a dream," Madam Pomfrey said regretfully, petting his hair gently. "Nobody was here last night -- well, except for me. However, when I checked up on you, you were sleeping quite peacefully." She then glanced towards the door of the Infirmary. "I wonder where Professor Snape is. He was supposed to come here a while ago to bring some potions I need."

Neville froze. As irrational as it was, he couldn't help it. He'd spent a good part of the last five years being afraid of Professor Snape. It wasn't something you could just shake off.

Two pairs of eyes were locked at the door. One of them was expectant, the other fearful.

Then, the door was opened.

Severus didn't know what to think. The boy actually remembered his visit! Well, that meant he could make no more nightly visits to the infirmary. He couldn't risk anything. The truth would break the boy, and he couldn't let that happen. Neville would never know that his parents weren't heroes.

He knew he'd been dallying too much, though. As he heard Poppy's words, he waited another second to gather his thoughts, then opened the door.

As he strode inside, his expression stern as ever, the gaze Neville gave him was nothing sort of fearful. Carefully he softened his expression not to be quite as intimidating as usually. "You asked for these, I believe," he said to Poppy, nodding towards the basket he held in his other hand. "Would you mind looking through them to see whether there's anything missing?" Of course there wasn't anything missing. He never forgot anything. However, it gave him another moment to be in the company of his son.

There was a quiet voice from the bed's direction, almost too quiet to be heard. However, Severus' ears caught it anyway. "Good evening, Professor Snape."

To say that he was surprised would have been a dire understatement. Raising an eyebrow, he turned to look at the boy, carefully keeping his expression emotionless but also making sure not to glare at him. "Ah, Mister Longbottom," he said with as neutral a voice as he only could manage. "I see you have again decided to grace us with your delightful presence."

"Let the boy be, Severus," Poppy said sharply. "He hasn't done anything to you."

Now Severus raised both eyebrows, turning towards the mediwitch again. "And I haven't done anything to him, have I?" he said. "I assure you, if it were my intention to make him uncomfortable, I would have made that clear. Now, is there anything missing, or do you no more require my presence?"

"No, everything is all right. Thank you, Severus."

He nodded, then said, "Have a good day, Poppy, Mister Longbottom." Then he turned around and swept away gracefully as ever.

Not until he was out of the hospital wing was he able to breathe easily again.

Next chapter:

Neville recovers, which brings trouble. Severus may be forced to tell him after all.