Disclaimer: The characters belong to J.K. Rowling. None of the individuals in the banner or the people who photographed them are in any way affiliated with me.
Pairing: Severus/Harry.
Rating: R
Warning: (not in this chapter)
Summary: Hope sees the invisible, feels the intangible and achieves the impossible.
Author's note: Sorry for the delay. I'd forgotten that though I haven't written anything new, I still have this chapter pre-written. Writer's block is a nasty little bugger.
Author:Spirit
o
Culpa Internum
The Fault Within
o
CHAPTER TWO
Harry sat impatiently before his fireplace, waiting for a response to the summon that he had sent through the Floo in the form of a note, too impatient to try sending it by Owl post. In his hands he held the Daily Prophet up so that the headline news would catch his attention every few seconds and increase his anxiety just a bit more. In his lap, his two year old daughter snuggled, her tiny fingers were busy tracing the contours of the animated picture in front of her as she did what Harry wished he could do and muttered her thoughts aloud to herself.
"Daddy."
Her voice broke through the whirlwind of Harry's thoughts. He shifted her in his lap and looked down at her. "Yes Shae?"
"Not you!" She laughed aloud at his mistake, but her eyes soon found the newspaper article again and her fingers reached out to the magical picture that was animated there. "Daddy here. He not talk?"
Harry shook his head at her. "No. Photos don't speak Shae, only paintings."
She looked a little disappointed, although he had explained the concept to her more than once. She traced the scowl on the face of the photograph and as soon as she did the expression changed to something almost similar to a smile. She smiled back shyly.
"Daddy?" she whispered again, but again, it didn't seem to be Harry that she was adressing.
When she was just a few weeks old he had a painting done of her other father. It was huge and hung in her room, where Snape could always watch over her. It didn't move or speak like all the other wizarding paintings in the house since Snape was still alive, but it quickly became her favorite painting in the entire house. As she got older and learned to be mobile he added frames to every wall in the house so that the animated portraits of his parents, Sirius and Dumbledore could follow her if she wanted, but she spent so many hours just sitting or playing in front of the portrait of Snape that the other paintings thought that she would probably really like it if she knew more about him. So Harry, in an attempt to show her that her other 'daddy' wasn't just two dimensional, began to forgo telling her bedtime stories and instead firmly taking her hand and travelling with her through long ignored memories that he would put into his pensieve. As a result of that, rather inconveniently, she liked to refer to every reminder that she had of Snape in the same way as she did for Harry, which was very confusing for him.
He kissed the top of her head, amidst the array of soft black curls of hair. "Do you want to go and talk to the paintings? Daddy will be busy for a little while."
"Okay!" She didn't seem to need to think about it. "Daddy stay here alone?" Her forehead creased with concern.
"Yes," he teased her, but then kissed her loudly on the cheek. "But you can stay in here, so that I won't be alone."
The confusion and intrigue that had been in her eyes, vanished in a second as she proceeded to wiggle out of his lap. Her face transformed into a huge grin. He let her go, watching as she ran over to the closest empty portrait in the room, and somehow as always, managed to call its occupant to her presence without words. But then, the floo flared green and Harry immediately turned his attention away from his daughter, leaving her under the more watchful eyes of all the portraits.
Out of the fire, Ron stumbled with a muttered oath. He glared at his best friend as he brushed soot off his Healer robe before stepping out of the way. Hermione stepped out next, much more graceful and less irrate.
Harry took a minute to stare with affection at his best friends. Friends who had not given up like every one else and never stopped until they found him. It was Ron who had found out about his induced pregnancy amidst the archive of St. Mungo's records. Hermione had figured out a way to do the difficult task of internationally connecting their floo with Harry's unknown fireplace. Together, they had showed up one day in Harry's living room and never left until they got the entire story out of their estranged best friend. Harry had never been so glad to see them in his entire life, and that gratitude never lessened despite Ron's complaints and Hermione's meddling.
"What is this about?" Harry held up the paper now, finger jabbing at the headline.
"Your damn floo almost killed me again! I could have bloody suffocated to death in there," Ron griped, giving the fire a disgusted look as he ignored Harry. "I don't know why you insist of staying in this sodding country when there are three perfectly good houses in Britain that has been in your name since birth. Not to mention the other annonymous ones that random people bequeath to you."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Are you finish?"
Ron seemed to think about it, then he took a deep breath and nodded. A slight tilt of his head to glance at the familiar headline had him releasing the breath in a huff. "Potions professor at Hogwarts collapses in the forest. What is left to understand about that?"
Harry opened his mouth to give a response, but it got delayed when Hermione pulled him into a tight hug.
"Go easy on him, you know how crabby he gets after international flooing," she whispered with a grin. "I'll leave you guys to talk alone. This is important so make sure he tells you everything."
Harry waited until she had joined Shae on the other side of the room before he shoved Ron into the nearest chair and stood scowling down at him.
Ron tried once more to irritate him, but he was obviously fighting a grin. "I should only give out information to his relatives. You're not related to him you know."
"Shaelan is," Harry said pointedly. "Would you like me to call her over?"
Ron sighed and immediately he became very serious. "Sit Harry. You're not going to like this. He's very sick. He's going to need you and Shae if he ever has a hope of living through this."
"So it's bad?"
"Extremely. The Healers are only giving him a few months to live because of how delicate his situation is." Ron's lips twisted into a wry grin, that Harry always appreciated more than the sad smile that the war had left him with. "It's a good thing I know something that they don't. You still owe him for saving your life in the war. Do you feel like repaying him soon?"
"Tell me what he needs," Harry said softly, as he finally sat. "Tell me what's wrong with him."
o
The decision on what to do was easy to make, although it took nearly another week before Harry could get his life in order so that he could leave.
He had always known that he would return to England one day so he had no qualms about leaving the place that he had called home for two years. Shae, in all her innocence, was only too glad to be taking a trip. She spent more time running around excitedly making sure that all her paintings and toys were properly shrunk and packed away first, not seeming to care that there were more important things that needed to be carried. Her incessant questions and exclamations made the two day Muggle journey to Hogwarts, first by plane and then by train, seem longer than necessary. However, it afforded enough distraction that Harry didn't have the time to really think about how he was going to explain years of absense from the wizarding world, only to return with a daughter who should by rights not have been able to exist at all.
"Daddy?" His daughter's voice broke through his reverie now and he looked down at her as she blatantly pointed. "No horsie?"
Harry looked towards the carriage that had drawn up before them. The driver sat perfectly still atop his perch, not even nodding in their direction. Before him, Harry could see the two thestrals, snorting impatiently and tugging at the reins and he allowed himself to remember a time when they had been invisible to him. Turning to look back at the upturned face of his daughter, he smiled widely. In the sun, her eyes looked more dark green than black. Her curiosity was almost tangible in the air as she wondered her thought aloud.
He picked her up, cradling her small body in his arms and kissed the side of her face as she was only too happy to wrap her arms around his neck and snuggle.
"No horses," he whispered to her as he strode towards the open door that awaited them. "Not for your eyes anyway."
The short journey seemed longer than it actually was as the horses ambled through Hogsmeade on the path to Hogwarts' castle. Shae was more fascinated with gazing out her window and chatting more to herself than to Harry about the beautiful sights along the way. For Harry, in those few minutes, he thought of a hundred different scenarios of how his welcome would be.
Snape would be angry, that was a certainty.
Harry nearly groaned aloud at the nervous twinge that attacked his stomach once he confronted that realization. Snape would be angry, but Harry was hoping that he would be even a tiny bit grateful too. It wasn't such an errant hope. Snape wasn't made from stone, he had to feel gratitude just as anyone else would feel. Harry was bringing with him a beautiful surprise and anyone in their right mind would appreciate Shae's existence like the miracle she was. Then again, when had Snape ever reacted like he should? The man Harry knew was a bundle of melodrama and a bad temper, but there were times when he would do something so unexpectedly kind that it would shock Harry. Memories of those times, nearly always when they had been alone and Harry had felt like his nerves were frayed, made Harry smile as he gazed out his window. His stomach fluttered with something that was no longer anxiety. Harry nearly groaned aloud at the reaction, but after two years and many traverses through those kinder memories, for Shae's sake, Harry had learned many things about Snape and those situations than he had ever realized as a teenager.
He smiled at the distracting thought of what Snape's reaction would be to this new complication of him actually liking the unpleasant sod.
o
The Great Hall looked just the way Harry remembered it. It was as if there had been no war and no deaths. Standing in the centre of the large room should have probably made him feel overwhelmed by emotions, but although there was the distinct tightening in his chest as his eyes fell on the Headmaster's chair, there were other more pleasant feelings too. Nothing could penetrate these walls, he remembered. When the world around him had begun to crumble he had envisioned Hogwarts, proud and strong, and it gave him hope.
Dumbledore's death had not been the only one to taint Hogwart's walls. Many of the Slytherin students of Harry's time had left, only to fall victims to the Killing curse or to be captured and Kissed by accident or through sentencing. Slytherin had not been the only house to fall. There were many Gryffindors who used their bravery to join or rebel against the side of the Order. But, surprisingly, it was the Ravenclaws that Harry remembered wryly. The silent killers. Smart and focussed. They were the masters behind the strategies on both sides. It was their game of chess that the sides played and even Harry, as the lone pawn sent to risk his life, had learned to appreciate the house of Ravenclaw. And, it was the Hufflepuffs that he turned to when he needed shelter.
Still Hogwarts stood proud. Within its walls, the houses were united under its one name and for the students, this was their sanctuary.
"Welcome back to Hogwarts, Mr. Potter."
When the doors to the Great Hall opened, Shae immediately grabbed Harry's hand and tried to hide behind his legs. Although McGonagall adressed Harry when she entered, her gaze fell to the cherubic little girl who was shyly peeking out at her. She found herself smiling encouragingly at the intense, Snape-like expression on the little face, but when the expression changed to a quick giggle, there was no doubt that she was a Potter.
"It's good to be back Headmistress," Harry responded.
He walked over to his former Head of House and shook her hand enthusiastically. He was glad to see that despite the war and the death of Dumbledore, the years had been kind to her and the title of Headmistress seem well deserved.
"This is Shaelan." He indicated his daughter was was still trying to disappear beyond his legs. "She's a little shy. She has never been anywhere magical outside of our home."
McGonagall gave Harry a searching look. "Her other father might not approve of that."
Harry sighed, half from relief and half from anxiety. He ducked his head under her scrutiny, feeling like an eleven year old once again, who had committed some sort of attrocious act against his own house.
"So Hermione told you."
"Well she had to, Potter." The chide was gentle though firm. "How would it have looked if you had shown up amidst the students and faculty with a child that you fostered off a man who did not give his permission to have an offspring? He is very ill right now. The shock alone would have done what the twenty years of being an agent for the Dark Lord did not do."
"I didn't -" Harry began to mumbled but he was interrupted.
"I know what you did and didn't do, Mr. Potter. I'm quite able to do research once I am aware of what I am looking for. Now Miss Granger does an amazing job at the Ministry, but even she cannot hide information from me when I demand an explanation. Mr. Weasley was quite helpful in clearing up the more unbelievable aspects. But, I assure you Potter that I am not an idiot. The moment you came up with such a ridiculous idea you should have come to me so that I could knock some sense into you. As you didn't do that, I am very disappointed. I think I should have liked putting forth the effort. As it is, that is all water under the bridge now. What's done is done."
That sounded like a begrudging sort of forgiveness. Harry chanced a quick glance to see if it really was, and he was incredibly happy to see the expression of amusement that McGonagall was trying to hide.
"In my defence, Professor, I thought he was dead," Harry pointed out wryly. "I realize in hindsight that it was one of the more inpulsive ideas I've ever had, but I don't regret it for a second. I love my daughter."
McGonagall smiled. "Well I should think so. She seems rather enchanting."
"Well yes she is, but knowing Snape, he won't care about any explanation. He'll probably kill the both of us the second that he sees her," Harry said dejectedly.
"He won't, because he has already been informed about her existence." McGonagall was back to looking stern. "It's not my place to break news like this as a third party, but as I said I was worried about his health should he find out some other way. He was there when I looked up your records at St. Mungo's."
That surprised Harry. "He was? Well how did he react? Was he angry? Do you think that he'll -" But again he was interrupted. This time it was because of a whisper from his daughter.
"Daddy?" She released his hand.
He looked down enquiringly at her, but she wasn't looking at him. Instead her shy smile was aimed at the opened doorway of the Great Hall. Harry felt an acute sense of panic flood his body, but he gathered his Gryffindor courage to look up and into the burning black eyes that was trained more upon his daughter than himself.
"Going for sainthood, Potter?" Snape's voice was as unforgiving as Harry remembered, but when Shae took a step back in surprise, the tone lost its harshness and seemed almost resigned. "What are you doing here?"
Harry met the cold, unreadable eyes and he set his jaw firmly. Taking Shae's small hand in his, he walked over to stand before the looming wizard.
"I thought you might like to get to know your daughter. She's been dying to meet you, so now is your chance to get to know each other." Harry tried to be brave and hold the hard stare, but the obsidian eyes seemed to physically burn him the longer he stood there. "So here she is."
And to the Headmistress' surprise, Harry picked up his daughter and thrust the little girl into Snape's arms, before giving a curt nod in her direction and very nearly running out of the room in his haste to escape.
The expression on Snape's face could only be described as priceless.
o - o
tbc