FireOpal's Comments:- Short but sweet, late but continuing, here is chapter four. Please people, don't hassle me on my crappy schedule – I know I should post more often, but this term (my first in 5th year) is rather stressful and I literally haven't had time to write this. This is brought to you by my slash-addicted friend Katy (smokey2307, she's amazing), who insisted every lesson (and I mean every) that I write more of this. This is for you, and all my readers.
Chapter 4 Decisions.
"You really aren't going to believe this…" Harry said lamely, walking up to the roaring fireplace and leaning an arm on the mantelpiece, his eyes caught by the sudden beauty of the flickering flames. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes briefly as Ron and Hermione waited patiently. By now they knew Harry enough that if they waited and let him lead the conversation himself, things would definitely go better. He turned back to them suddenly, his green eyes reflecting the firelight, and casting strange shadows on his face.
"My father-" he paused. "I mean," He stared into the flames again. "My father isn't James Potter. I'm not really Harry James Potter. My father, my father is Snape."
There was a long, tense silence. Somehow, admitting it out loud was worse, allowing the festering thoughts in his head to take the reins and engulf him. As neither of his best friends moved or spoke, he was suddenly overwhelmed by panic. What if they didn't trust him? What if they decided they didn't like him, couldn't be friends with a Snape? Irrational as these thoughts were, they nonetheless echoed in his mind.
Hermione, for her part, was quiet and contemplative. As usual when faced with a problem and given the answer, the clues slotted into place perfectly – the height difference, the apparent difference in character, Harry's uncommon mood. And, being an intelligent witch, she knew that Harry wasn't a different person now than he was a minute ago.
Glancing across at Ron, she was temporarily relieved to see that he hadn't spoken. She loved her boyfriend dearly, but he did have a tendency to open his mouth and say the first thing that came into his head. He had paled worryingly though. After looking between the two boys, one of whom looked shocked and stunned, and the other who looked sick and depressed, she sighed mentally and realised it was yet again up to her to say something.
"OK, Harry." She said quietly, looking at him. "I believe you. When did you find out?" Harry swallowed.
"Yesterday. I mean, I got the letter when McGonagle pulled me out of class, but I only found out last night."
"Snape's – son?" Ron had finally pulled out of his semi-comatose state. The other two looked at him, Hermione biting her lip, Harry worried.
"Yeah." The emerald-eyed wizard looked down at his suddenly fascinating hands.
"Right." Ron said shortly, swallowing. "Wow, that's, that's…"
"Yeah." Harry said, before he could finish.
"So, what now?" Hermione put in, hoping to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters.
"I dunno," Harry said, running a hand through his hair. It was slightly longer than usual, and he frowned.
"Well, what did Dumbledore say?" Hermione pushed.
"Um, well, I dunno." Harry flushed. "I didn't exactly stick around long enough to find out."
"Come on, Hermione. It must've been quite a, a shock." Ron said, still semi-dazed.
"You think." Harry replied, wryly.
"Well," she retorted, matter-of-factly, "Don't you think it would be a good idea to find out?"
"I-I can't."
"We'll go with you of course," Hermione continued blithely, watching as Harry's face fell, resigned.
"Fine."
Hermione stood, dragging the dejected boy up with her and walked out of the common room, Ron following.
"Ah, Harry. Good to see you. And Mr Weasley and Miss Granger. Tea?" the amiable headmaster greeted them pleasantly. Hermione took the proffered cup and sat down primly one of three chairs, Harry in the middle, and Ron flanking. Ron took a sherbet lemon, but Harry politely deferred.
"Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"
"Harry told us, sir." Hermione said, after taking a sip.
"Ah." Dumbledore said seriously. "And I presume you brought him up here?" Hermione flushed.
"Er, yes sir."
"Well then, let's get this over with. Harry, you remember our last meeting?"
"Yes." Harry muttered.
"Unfortunately, we cannot have Professor Snape with us tonight as he is overseeing a detention," Harry's heart lifted slightly. "But we will have to make do. Now, as a result of the charm your mother used on you to control your appearance, it appears you have been changing recently – is this true?"
"Yes."
"This means that the charm will be wearing off. Now, we have several options. One, we take off the charm completely, which we could then reapply or not as the case may be. Or, we could wait for it to spin out, and hope nobody notices the differences. Your father and James are remarkably similar in general appearance – both had black hair, for instance and other attributes could be contributed to your mother. It is quite possible that after the charm wears off, you will not need glasses either, as they are a part of James."
Harry nodded hollowly.
"I think I'd prefer to leave the charm on, sir." Dumbledore nodded slowly.
"Very well then, we shall between us have to keep an eye on your appearance. I'm sure someone would notice, if, for instance, your hair grew overnight." He smiled at the three, and they nodded. "Now Harry, as this new information has come to light, I think it might be an idea if you were to become better acquainted with your father."
"Uh, sir," Harry said quickly. "I don't think that's really necessary…"
"Nonsense!" Dumbledore responded, eyes twinkling. "I have arranged for you two to meet in his quarters once a week. I know in the past you have had your differences, but a family is a wonderful thing to have, and it is better united than divided."
"Yes sir." Harry muttered reluctantly, feeling the world being tugged from under his feet yet again.
"Excellent. I have arranged for you to meet every Thursday in Professor Snape's quarters at 7pm. If you could come here tomorrow at that time, I will have him escort you down to the dungeons and discuss passwords and so on." Harry nodded glumly, replacing his cold cup of tea onto the desk. "Bye Harry, Miss Granger, Mister Weasley."
Another Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson brought another session in which everyone sat around and did nothing. Having still not got accustomed to the news and his current situation, Harry was in no mood to disrupt the teacher as usual, and just sat with his head on the desk, staring into space. Hermione and Ron were now used to this behaviour, so they continued with their usual tasks – Hermione's now defensive zoo animals and Ron's 'Quidditch Lovers' Handbook'.
Malfoy glanced at the Trio for a moment, the slightest hint of a frown creasing his forehead. Then he looked around at Turner, who was walking nervously towards them. Suddenly deciding the need for a distraction, he raised his hand elegantly. This startled the young professor, and she quickly changed direction, and put on a vaguely intelligent expression.
"Yes, Mr Malfoy?"
"Um…" said Draco, slightly unprepared. Quickly casting his mind to the brief notes on the board, inspiration hit:
"Isn't the common Hartkes found in Ireland, not the Isle of Man? That's why they are hunted nearly to extinction by Leprechauns."
"Well," Turner replied uncertainly, "Leprechauns probably live in several of the smaller islands, not just Ireland."
"But leprechauns don't live in the Isle of Man." Malfoy pointed out. "The hippogriffs would eat them."
"Yes, well," Turner faltered. "Just copy it down, it's in the syllabus." She stalked off, trying to cover her own lack of knowledge. Draco stared after her for a long moment in partial disbelief, then smirked. If he had still been in contact with Lucius, the stupid woman would've been ousted long ago. Apart from the fact that she was degrading their defence skills, of which the Dark Lord would approve, Draco mused to himself.
Quickly glancing over at the undisturbed trio, he mentally sighed with relief. If he was right, and he knew he was, Harry could do without the distraction of a particular no-brained teacher right now. Blocking out the sounds of Turner's babble, he turned to his sketch with a critical eye, adding a few more lines of shading, before packing up ready to leave for Charms.
At five minutes to 7 that Thursday evening, a rather uncomfortable-looking Harry stood in full-uniform outside the door to Professor Snape's office. His robes and shoes were as neat as he could make them, and his hair was as flat as his repeated movements could press it, in an attempt to look half-way decent. It was bad enough, the list of insults and scathing remarks the acerbic man could come up with without creating more reasons.
Finally, realising that arriving late would not make him any more appealing, he raised his hand and knocked on the door, the sound surprisingly strong and confident, despite his shaking hands. Wishing his collar was a little looser, he swallowed when the call came.
"Enter!" He opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him almost reluctantly, and glancing around the room. Snape was sat behind his desk, as if trying to raise a barrier between himself and his son, with a blank but tight expression. "Ah, Potter. Sit down."
"Yes sir." Harry replied quickly, sitting down on the proffered chair. Snape coughed.
"This, news," he said, with a lingering distaste on the last word, "has come as an obvious shock to the both of us. The headmaster," he expressed not much less distaste with this word either, to Harry's vague surprise, "has expressed a desire that we get to know one another. However, I personally see no need for this, but, as you are required to come down here every week, I shall have to endure."
Harry flushed slightly, but didn't speak. Snape continued as if he hadn't noticed.
"I would suggest that you bring your homework down with you, so that at least something productive can be done with this time."
"Yes sir." Harry parroted, one hand nervously pulling at his cuff. Snape's eyebrow rose at his reply, and he nodded.
"The headmaster has also enforced certain, procedures that require me to be, to some extent, polite to you. This is unfortunate, but I see no reason why our manner should change outside this room. Now, as I see you have no bag with you, we shall have to find some other form of entertainment for this evening. The headmaster suggested," his tone implied that it was hardly suggested at all, "that we spend a minimum of two hours a week together. This takes us to curfew at nine, so I shall be required to escort you to your Tower. There are a series of potions textbooks on that desk in the corner, you will amuse yourself reading those." Harry privately felt that he would have more fun scrapping dead flies out of old potions bottles, but, in respect of his hated teacher's restraint, said nothing. Instead, he nodded, and collected the three tomes, opening the first, distressingly titled 'Potions Ingredients Preparations for Advanced Practitioners'. It was older and mustier than any of the textbooks he had ever used before, and that coupled with the close proximity of his professor (his mind still refused to accept Snape as a parent) and the tense silence, made him more than just a little uncomfortable.
It was with extreme relief for the two of them then when the clock on the wall chimed nine, and Harry could close the second book he was almost asleep over. Snape put down his pile of marking and stood, taking the three books off of him and leading him out of the office. The trip up to the tower was as tense as the past two hours, as both parties were restraining from irritating the other for fear of wrath from a higher source. Luckily, they met no-one else on the journey, and Harry looked upon the portrait of the Fat Lady with gratitude.
"You're out late, young Harry," the portrait started genially, before she noticed the dark professor, and immediately looked contrite. "Oh, sorry Professor, I didn't see you there." Snape nodded almost uncertainly, and turned to Harry.
"I will see you in Potions." He said shortly, before stalking off, leaving Harry alone in the corridor.
"Password, Harry?" she asked, drawing his attention. Harry turned to her.
"Oh, sorry. Swordfish." He replied distractedly, moving forwards as she swung aside, and into the nearly empty common room. Ron and Hermione had obviously stayed up to wait for him, and the brunette had presumably tried to force large amounts of work on the red head, judging by the papers strewn everywhere.
He grinned tiredly at the pair as he approached, and they smiled in return, Hermione looking faintly concerned.
"Are you alright? How did it go?"
"Yeah," Ron added, "Did the Greasy Git torment you all evening?"
"No, actually," Harry replied with a yawn. "It was bizarre, and really boring. I think I'll go to bed, I'm exhausted."
"Yeah, we should be going too." Ron said quickly, slamming his textbook shut and gathering up his notes to his girlfriends' frown. "Really tiring day." He fake-yawned. Turning to Hermione, he kissed her gently on the cheek. "Night love."
"Night Ron, night Harry." Hermione said, picking up another of her mounds of paper, obviously intending to stay up a while longer.
"Night Mione." Harry said, and the two boys made their way up the staircase and into the dorms, leaving Hermione to work alone by the firelight.
In his quarters, Snape was interrupted from a relaxing glass of white wine by a polite knock on his door. Sighing, he stood and moved in front of the lit fireplace, calling over his shoulder.
"Enter." To his faint surprise, it wasn't the elderly headmaster, but another familiar figure in his living quarters. Dressed smartly even at this late hour, Draco Malfoy walked in and settled himself on the soft brown couch.
"I have news." He said, relaxing into the furniture. "Nott has expanded his plotting to include Crabbe and Goyle, no doubt under my father's instructions. He seems to have them under his complete control, which, to be honest, isn't exactly hard. However, this means that Lucius has informed others of my defection."
"A tricky situation indeed." Snape replied, taking a sip of the liquid. "However, I am not sure if there is anything we can do as of yet. Is that all? I have had a long day and I'm rather tired." Draco scrutinized him carefully.
"There's something bothering you." He said. Snape shot him a sharp look.
"What do you mean?"
"I can tell by your expression. You are my godfather – I have known you a long time."
"I am perfectly fine, thank you Draco." He softened slightly. "Look, I'll talk to you more tomorrow. Just not tonight, alright?"
"Very well." Draco replied, standing. "Goodnight Severus."
"Goodnight Draco." Snape replied wearily, draining his glass as the blonde left the room.
Review Responses.
EbonyBeach – Lol, you don't even read HP fanfiction, and yet you're reading this! Oh well, love you dude. We need to write more Intertwined! Fantastic!
shikyo66613 – Thank you so much, this was a pleasure to read. You highlighted bits you enjoyed and without spending 5 pages! (not that I mind -). Hint to all you guys, take a few tips!Rosiegirl – Sorry for the wait! This will continue for a tad longer I'm afraid… -, Hope you like this one.
3 reviews? Thank you my friends, but looking between my HP stories and my DW stories, I see my DW fans review much more readily… Come on chaps, show me what you're made of! One of my stories is the same length as this and has 60 reviews! I'm pleased, but could you make a teensy effort? Please?
Thanks!