Author's Notes:
Thank you all for the wonderful reviews and simply, just reading thus far. I'm happy to have peaked your interest. :Bows: I hope you enjoy the new chapter and for more ANs, see the bottom.

But for now: enjoy!

Lament of Innocence
Chapter One: Gone, But Never Forgotten

It came to mind, at times like these–when it was quite in his rather large home, how the young man in front of him had come to be considered part of his family.

The son of his most hated rival–yet the boy knew nothing of it. No, as far as the emerald eyed teen knew he was, and had always been, the son of one Severus Snape.

Though, not exactly, by the man's desire.

No at first, even after agreeing to the terms–or hell, agreeing at all–Snape had been against the idea of having Harry in his home. But he knew once he'd brought the boy home, this attitude would not be tolerated. Not when his late wife had first laid eyes on the boy.

They had been trying, at the time, for a year to conceive a child of their own and for a borderline desperate would be mother that refused to admit it and had promptly hexed her husband's–erm–genitals clean off when he'd voiced his opinion on that matter. . .Harry was a god send.

She immediately took to Harry as if he were her own child. And while at the time he despised the brat, he could admit now that Harry had been a very good baby. He barely cried...only when Snape came too close to him sometimes. Or when he was hungry. He seemed to think going to the bathroom was a humorous affair...more so when Snape had to change him and the little emerald eyed wondered decided that 'target practice' was a fun game.

After the first time this had occurred, his wife had checked any and all bottles that Snape made for the boy–and with good reason. The first did have a...unfavorable potion laced within. That had gotten him in the 'dog house' for a week. Not to mention the little brat seemed to purposely pee on him the next go round—considering when he checked his diaper there was nothing there.

Though as time went on, he at least learned to coexist with the little brat, if for nothing more then his wife's sake.

That is until the boy was four years old. His wife had finally gotten pregnant. . .but due to complications, she died during child birth. And unfortunately, so did the child.

Snape had been, without a doubt, devastated. And oddly enough, Harry seemed to understand this. At first, the child had simply left the man alone, periodically looking for the woman he had come to know as his mother. Then finally, Harry came to Snape, softly pulling on his robes. When he'd scowled down at the annoyance, the small boy shrunk back–but didn't release his robes. He simply looked up at Snape, his emerald eyes wide and watery. Then he'd called Snape–for the first time in his life–or at least the first time the older man had ever noticed–his father. Then...he asked him if he had a 'boo-boo' and where his 'mommy' was.

And to this day, Snape had no idea what had changed–perhaps he'd finally gotten over that Harry was James Potter's son...okay, maybe not entirely. Maybe it was because the boy had meant so much to his wife..or he saw a chance to replace the son he would never have...maybe it was he'd liked the child all along but was too stubborn to admit it.

But from that day forward, he'd treated the boy like he was his own...and strived to be a better father then his own had been.

Okay...and maybe he was striving to be a better father then James so that way when the time came–if it came–that Harry's true identity had to be given, then he could rub it in that shaggy haired bastard's f-a-c-e.

And he had to come to the conclusion he'd done the best job he could have...given that this was, after all, the biological son of James Potter.

As soon as the boy turned, as he'd called it 'coherent', he'd forbid the boy to cut his hair. It was bad enough he was the son of Potter, he needed as few reminders as possible. So the instead of having short shaggy hair, his 'son' had long shaggy hair that happened to reach just two inches past his shoulders. (Harry had literally charmed his door locked for two days to keep him from putting gel on it in an effort to tame it.)

While Harry had also refused to wear contacts or have his eyes corrected via magic, he had managed to get him to wear a face fitting, Ben Franklin type glasses, so at least he didn't have wide, black bifocals...

The boy rarely went outside the home though by now it was more by choice–that was another precautionary measure Snape had taken long before the death of his wife to ensure no one found out Harry's true identity. Should the boy ever have to go out, it was under the charm of Glamour–yet another thing the boy seemed to despise.

Actually, Harry seemed to 'despise' any and all things Snape did in an effort to 'protect' him...though the biggest thing had been Hogwarts.

Snape frowned slightly just thinking about the entire ordeal.

Dumbledore–being the loony old coot he was– had actually sent Harry his acceptance letter. So naturally, the boy had wanted to go. After all, Snape had told him many stories of the school (that came back to bite him in the ass...)and the boy had even taken to studying spells, cunctations–everything of the sort in perpetration. He'd been genuinely excited and practically dancing on thin air awaiting that stupid letter. When he'd finally gotten it, he'd dashed into the master bed chamber and 'bounced' him awake, jumping on the bed and waving the letter over his head.

All for Snape to have to tell the boy he would not be allowed to attend. That had been...interesting. After three straight days of yelling, screaming, and being hated, Snape finally got Harry to relent and the boy went to a foreign school instead.

There was far too much at stake and Albus had made it all but clear he didn't want the boy 'reappearing' until the proper time arose (which was why sending Harry an acceptance was such a good idea but the old coot swore it 'must have slipped his mind' with that god awful twinkle in his eyes...), which was why the boy could not be allowed to go to Hogwarts. That...and it just so happened that his real parents and god parents taught at the school while his twin brother attended and the two would be in the same year... so even under a glamour, it was far to dangerous to have the boy there until the proper 'time' arose.

However, even if he couldn't go to the school of his choosing, Harry had proven to be an excellent student, excelling in his studies, much to Snape pleasure–not that Harry had much of a choice, living under his roof and all– even though Albus Dumbledore had utterly forbid him to teach Harry any dark arts. (A pity...)

Harry also hadn't shown any real interest in Quidditch, another thing Snape was grateful for. Not that he down right despised the sport, but it was another thing associated with James Potter and anything he could do to distance the boy from being like his father was welcome.

Though Snape had come to find–to his utter dismay– that Harry had a 'small' knack for causing mischief the boy could be just as much of a smart ass, sneaky, and trouble causing as his real father when he wanted to. There was a reason the headmaster left Harry's school by the end of his first year...sexual confused. Though while Harry had been caught red handed placing lip stick on said headmaster, he still swore he found him in nothing but a bra...

His eyes narrowed slightly at Harry as he remembered getting that letter at Hogwarts about the matter (and having to dodge the taunting and probing questions of that idiot Black...) as said teen looked up at him, raising an eyebrow as he paused in his reading.

Snape took this moment to scowl at him for catching him looking slightly while the fleeting (and disheartening) thought flashed through his mind that even with longer hair and different glasses and a slightly paler tone complexion (he didn't get out in the sun much, after all...)he still looked like James.

Harry titled his head to the side as he closed his book and put it down beside him. "What's the scowl for? I already told you, I had no part in Cole getting his head stuck in a toilet."

Cole–or Deputy Headmaster Cole–was not one of Harry's favorite professors.

Snape scowl deepened. "I have told you: show respect for your professors in my presence."

Harry rolled his eyes slightly. "Fine: I had no part in Deputy Headmaster Cole getting his head stuck in a toilet. In the girl's bathroom. While they were in the shower. With his pants and underwear pulled around his ankl–"

"I hold no interest in the details of your little antics," Snape hissed matter of factly in a cold, snarky tone. "Only that they nearly got you expelled and I will not tolerate such behavior in my household."

Harry grumbled something under his breath then tried to look as if he'd said nothing at all, staring up at his father innocently but failing miserably as he pushed his glasses up closer to his face. Snape gave him his trademark Glare O Doom and Harry quickly, adverted his eyes, mumbling his apologies. Snape fought the urge to smirk. He would rue the day Harry finally stopped letting that intimate him.

"Get dressed–"

"I am dressed," Harry replied frowning indignantly and Snape glared down at his 'outfit'. Pajamas, hunter green with pink fuzzy slippers a first year admirer had bought for him last year.

"Put on your dress robes brat," Snape snapped, though both knew there was no real hard feelings: 'brat' had all but became a term of endearment for Harry.

"Why." Harry stated rather than asked, raising an eyebrow, knowing full well the reason and more to the point, that questioning his father got on his last good nerve–not that he had any good nerves left between Harry and the students of Hogwarts.

Snape didn't reply, he simply glared at Harry with such a witheringly look that the boy couldn't do anything but obey, slipping out of the room as quietly as possibly, avoiding direct eye contact but watching his father none the less with such caution, one would believe he would attack him at any given moment.

When Harry was out of sight, he let out a frustrated sigh and stormed–because walking was too simple for someone like Severus Snape, he either stormed or glided– back to his study to prepare for a day out with his son–and a headache.

Meanwhile, Harry let out a grumble and sigh as he made his way to his room.

He always felt bummed on his birthday and he had no clue why. It just always–bothered him.

Like something was missing. Harry frowned. Actually...it always felt like something was missing from his life. He couldn't place it–he never could–but in a way, he just knew something was wrong with his life. Like it just wasn't right.

Certainly, his life wasn't bad: his father could be a bit of a prick, even by his judgement (the man had made a second language from the word 'no') as he could be very strict, stubborn, and easy to piss off. But in the end, he was still a great father.

His school life was rather boring. The classes were far too easy, as he'd spent–upon his father's watchful eye–years beforehand studying to the point he was at a second's years, maybe even borderline third years level. Though while he was technically a brain, Harry never really studied–any school books he read was for his pure enjoyment, as Harry had learned after his first year that he was simply gifted.

And he would have been cocky too but his father was rather adamant about 'being humble' and 'not looking like a complete ass'.

He was popular he supposed, he didn't really have a set of 'friends' just tons of groups that he hung out with when he didn't want his privacy. He was 'everybody's friend', so to speak. And while for the most part, he respected his teachers, he did rather hate Cole–the man seemed to despise him for some reason (Harry began to suspected the whole 'embarrassing him in front of the visiting Headmaster of their sister school via correcting the man's every response with well versed answers of his own' had something to do about it though...) and was constantly trying to get him expelled.

And by all means, Harry was trying to help him. From magically stuffing the man into toilets and mooning the entire girl's bathroom when it was full, to sabotaging the man's final exam grades to make it look as though he favored a few prized students over everyone else that took his class, he'd tried it all.

And still, somehow, his father had managed to keep the stupid headmaster from expelling him, much to his and Cole's utter annoyance.

Harry frowned as he entered his room, pausing to take in the small mountain of gifts that had collected by the end of his bed, just catching a tawny owl flying into the window with a small package in it's talons, before he headed toward his closet to get a proper outfit.

There had to be something he could do while they were out to...'encourage' his father to let him finally go to Hogwarts this year. Harry smirked to himself, a very simple plan forming in his head. Of course, his father would make him wear that damned glamour. His father was quite good at casting it–it'd taken Harry years to master how to completely dispel it.

In any case, he knew his father would make him wear the charm–and Harry had come to find that there had to be some reason his father didn't want to him to seen in public without it and at the tender age of fifteen and just for the pure enjoyment of seeing his father explode in public–he reckoned it was time to find out.. Smirk widening, Harry pulled down a pair of black dress robes and black slacks.

Why the hell he didn't think of this before now, he'd never know...

Even through his haze of a sleep, he could here the footfalls approaching outside his room. A few moments later, he heard his door being slowly opened with a soft 'creak'. The excited whispers, a dog like laughter, someone telling Ron to shut up in a matter of fact tone.

Then–something that convinced the birthday boy that the entire group was tone deaf:

"Happy Birthday to You!

Happy Birthday to You!

Happy Birth-day dear Ju-lie-aaaaaan!

Happy Birthday to YOU!"

"Mmmmerrrrr..." he half yawned, half whined as he rolled over on his stomach and pulled his pillow over his head, trying desperately to shut them out. Good lord, was he not a morning person. Waking him up at any time before 1:00p.m. was an injustice and should be made illegal.

"Julian!" he heard his father tease in a sing song voice as someone pulled the pillow from his head. "Rise and shine sweetheart!" his godfather–Sirius–teased in a sickeningly sweet tone as he torn open one of his bedroom windows and let the stupid sunshine pour in–right on his face.

Julian squinted his eyes and hissed at the group, not really focusing on anyone in particular. "It buuuuuurns," he whispered harshly and he heard his father, along with his other godfather–Remus– laugh as a very large black dog leapt at him and pounced on top of him, making him 'oof!' and sit up, glaring at it.

Said dog wagged it's tail happily and panted, stuck out his tongue and licked the side of his face. "Sir-i-us!" he laughed, pushing the dog back from his face. The black dog circled his 'territory' for a second before finally laying down on top of his lap, Julian rolling his eyes and scratching behind his ears.

"Happy Birthday!" his mother smiled, coming over and kissing him on the cheek quickly before going over to his dresser to mess with something as Mrs. Weasley came over and engulfed him in a crushing hug. " Oh look at you: fifteen" she practically sobbed. "You're all growing up so fast!"

"Mom, you're crushin him!" Ron called and Mrs. Weasley loosened the hold but still didn't let Julian go exactly–though at least his face was turning back to normal (it had become cherry red in a matter of seconds) and his breathing was becoming even again.

He looked over to his red headed best friend giving him a apologetic smirk and he smiled back before once again, he was engulfed into a crushing hug as Mrs. Weasley began to ramble again.

As he became light headed, Julian took this time to ponder of his life.

He couldn't complain, really: he had two of the best parents in the world, if he could say so himself, as well as great godparents. He had a slew of friends, through he only really considered three as being truly close to him.

The first was Ronald Weasley, who'd he'd met while he was a baby. The shorted haired red head was a bit of a hot head and oblivious at times but he meant well: they'd been just about inseparable ever since, though even with Ron, who was just like a brother to him, the void that had always been there just didn't feel...right. Even still, Ron was a part of his life that he knew he would never be able to live without–at least until he beat that bastard at chess...

The next was Hermione Granger, who could be a bit pushy, though honestly, a brilliant and lovely girl. She was head over hills in love with Ron (he just knew she was, damn it), though she refused to admit it openly and Ron was far to blind to see it. (Ron could be a tad dense as well.) She always had a level head and tried to think everything through instead of jumping into things rashly and not thinking of consequences–though most of the times, she just ended up doing said rash things anyway–she was apart of their quad after all. Most could find her attitude more than annoying, but having Ronald and Elizabeth around, she was more then welcome.

Elizabeth Black. His cousin and daughter and Sirius and Remus (Lupin) Black..okay, she wasn't a blood relative but they saw each other as such since their father's saw themselves as brothers. He liked to think of her as bipolar: she was like a shift between her father Sirius and her 'father' Lupin: she could be short tempered and loud one minute or calm and quiet the next–though not much of the latter. Her personality was wild and reckless–though she knew the consequences of her actions long before hand and just chose to 'ignore' them. She was energetic and over all, a joy to be around–even though she was more or less the sole reason they were constantly in trouble with Flich and losing house points. And she did have this unnatural crush on Blaise, a Slytherin boy in their same year.

As he felt the tightened grip on him finally loosen (though he didn't here a word anyone was saying) he frowned slightly to himself at the thought of Slytherins before moving on with his thoughts.

He was captain of the Quidditch Team, he made 'great grades' (despite the fact everyone thought it was only because his parents and friends made up the majority of the professors–he worked hard for those Exceeding Expectations, damn it!), he was popular, rich though not Malfoy so, good looking (okay, this was debatable but he thought he was bloody sexy if he could say so himself...).

There wasn't too much in his life that wasn't perfect, other then his mother's side of the family, having far to much attention payed to him (but that couldn't helped–yet).

And then, there was Harry.

His twin. The missing part of what he needed to fill that empty void somewhere deep within.

Even as a young child, without his mother and father constantly hoping and praying for the return of their second son, he knew something was missing in his life. How couldn't he? Harry was practically a part of him: they had been inseparable up until the point of his abduction.

They'd had their own—thing. It was hard to explain (though the Weasley Twins understood it, naturally) but he felt...lost without Harry.

Certainly he was getting along well, what with his parents practically smothering him with love to make up for the absence. But in the end it just didn't matter: it didn't replace the aching he felt.

Though in a grim way, he was happy to know he wasn't alone. His parents had never given up hope of find Harry–they'd only finally stopped searching back in his eleventh year, much to his father's distress. He'd become an Auror, top class, in order to find Harry but in the end, much to his dismay, he'd never been able to succeed in finding his youngest son. Finally, after having a very long talk with his mother and the headmaster of his school on his eleventh birthday, James finally decided that he would join her at Hogwarts to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, though neither never stopped really 'searching'. Maybe it wasn't as obvious as before but he could tell every now and again, when one of them needed to 'go for a walk' or turn abruptly at the sight of untidy raven hair', what they were really doing.

And his entire first year he could tell they'd hoped against hope that Harry would have shown up at the school among the new students– only to be crushed.

But then, that's why he admired his parents so much. Despite it all, they'd always tried their damn hardest to smoother him with love and affection–maybe even more so because of Harry's disappearance and their need to make sure they knew that he was important to them.

They'd tried giving him a normal life–as if his life would ever be normal but thinking about his little 'problem' as he called it, would only cause headaches and he wasn't in the mood for that as of yet, what with his body still trying to shake off the dizziness caused by Mrs. Weasley's motherly bear like embrace.

Julian was snapped out of his thoughts by an eruption of their singing to him yet again, his mother walking over to him from his dresser with a large cake, the candles flickering brightly, as if dancing to the song.

He squinted his eyes slightly in a vain attempt to see the cake clearly–he was still half sleepy despite being 'awake'. Seventeen candles.

Seventeen.

Of course: fifteen for him. One to grow on. And the other candle...the only one candle they used every single year, for every single cake–the emerald colored candle–belonged to Harry, for remembrance since he couldn't be with them.

He let them finish their song, gave a light smile before he blew.

"Whatcha waitin on?" he heard Elizabeth demand with a broad smile on her face. "Hurry up and blow! We don't have all day!"

He looked at her suspiciously. "What did you do to my cake Black."

She gasped over dramatically and placed a hand on her chest, looking at him as if he'd insulted her greatly. "Me! Do something to your precious cake? What kind of a cousin do you think I would be to ruin such a perfect day in such regard? Perish the thought dear cousin...perish the thought."

He rolled his eyes and glared at his cake suspiciously again before looking up at Hermione. "What did she do Mione."

The bushy haired girl shared a look with Elizabeth before glancing back at him and hunching. "I haven't a clue Julian."

"Yeah, can't you just buy that I'm just really hungry? Ever thought of that?" Elizabeth added, placing a hand loosely on her hip. "Some of us want to eat because their parents decided they didn't need breakfast when it's your birthday."

He raised an eyebrow and Lupin gave her a look of mock insult. "If we kept feeding you, you'd never leave sweetheart. And we want you out of the house by your next birthday."

The room snickered and Elizabeth gave her father a mock pouty expression before folding her arms over her chest and placing her head on Sirius–now human– shoulder. "Daddy, 'mummy's' doing that 'get out of my house' thing again."

"How else will I be able to run around it naked?" he asked softly as if giving it heavy thought and she quickly took her head off his shoulder as he gave a barking laughing, the quad of teenagers, as well as Lily and Molly, looking over at him with odd looks.

"I'd prefer to keep my cake down after I eat it, thank you," Julian replied sarcastically and he got his hair ruffled in response as Lupin whispered to Sirius not so lowly "I don't mind you running around naked...among other things."

"Blow out the damn candles Juli," Elizabeth and Ron snapped loudly, trying to drown out that entire conversation, earning glares from the mothers in the room for using 'damn'.

Julian rolled his eyes before closing them and making the same exact wish he made every year–to be reunited with the lost part of his soul– he blew out every candle...

...only to glared up at Elizabeth in bored annoyance soon after with a cake splattered face while she along with the rest of room began to laugh at her little 'prank', vaguely hearing Ron pout that he'd wanted a piece of it

AN:
Hope you enjoyed this chapter and please leave feedback if you wish to. Thanks a lot, more to come soon!