AN – Here's Chapter 3! I'd just like to take this opportunity to thank each and every one of you for reading my story and leaving a review. It means so much!

Chapter Three – Beggars Belief

Severus struggled to contain his anger upon returning to Hogwarts. He immediately poured himself three fingers of firewhiskey within his usual crystal whiskey glass; a gift from Lucius Malfoy upon receiving the Dark Mark. The fire in his quarters, which was usually permanently lit (due to the cold and damp nature of the dungeons), was immediately dowsed. Severus wanted to feel the cold and he wanted to feel the damp, it kept him grounded whilst he internalised this new revelation.

He had a son.

Of course, he had no biological proof, but in magical families certain visible features did not lie. It was why the Malfoy family were identified by having extraordinary blonde hair and grey eyes; why the Black family were known for having wild, often curly, black hair and grey eyes. Pureblood families worked hard to ensure that these prominent features were passed down within each generation, so they stood out amongst the rest of the magical population.

Whilst Severus' bloodline was nowhere near as pure, his family still held certain prominent features. Features that the boy had in abundance.

Severus sat in the high winged back chair; which had also been a gift from the Malfoy family following his appointment as Potions professor at Hogwarts, sipping gradually at the whiskey and revelling in the burning sensation in his throat. There were so many unanswered questions, some that even his Mother was unable to help answer.

Why would Lily use his hairs to create this child? Why wouldn't she tell him, Hell, even ask him? Didn't he deserve that?

That question pierced his heart with bitterness and hurt. Of course she wouldn't think he deserved that, even he didn't think he deserved that!

It made him wonder if James Potter knew that his coveted child, the apple of his eye and his heir, wasn't biologically his son. It then reminded him that the man was dead, and it was by his word that the man; and by extension his wife, was now dead and their son an orphan. Severus scowled as his thoughts returned to the boy.

It was Severus' fault that the boy was brought up with muggles.

It was Severus' fault that the boy was disliked, that he was dressed in scruffy hand me downs.

It was Severus' fault that his own son had likely been brought up in similar circumstances as his own.

Severus roared and threw the half empty whiskey glass into the empty fireplace, waiting for the satisfaction of hearing the glass shatter against the stone. The glass shattered, but Severus felt no satisfaction. He rose in a swell of anger and bitterness, withdrew his wand, pointed it at the seemingly innocent chair and spat out a powerful " Reducto!"

The chair splintered into tiny pieces, but Severus still felt no measure of satisfaction. He repeated this process on several items of furniture within his quarters; his desk, the wooden chair, the coffee table, the old dresser in the corner.

Finally, spent of magical energy, he backed into the nearest stone wall and slid slowly to a seat on the floor. He covered his face with a quivering hand as he fought with his emotional control. In his anger, he'd allowed his usually strong occlumency shields to drop, which allowed his more raw emotions to surface.

Guilt and fear flooded his system. How could he be a father to a boy he didn't even know? How could he be a father when his own father was such a terrible example?

He was suddenly brought out of his pained musings when the empty grate of his fireplace flashed with green flames and a tall figure unceremoniously stepped into the room. The older gentleman silently took in the destruction of the room as he straightened his pointed cap, before settling his unique blue eyes upon the young professor.

"Ahh, Severus," his voice was soft and gentle; it held a wisdom that even Severus could not comprehend, but commanded respect and attention. "The castle informed me that powerful magic had been cast in the dungeons, I thought I should investigate as I was aware that you were visiting your Mother this afternoon," he had another look around the room. "I can see, however, that the destruction has been caused by your own wand." His eyes returned to the younger man, "Is everything alright, my boy?"

Severus stood on trembling legs, his adrenaline spent. He pushed against the wall and attempted to bring himself to full height, forcing his occlumency shields in place to create some semblance of control. He eyed the Headmaster, taking in the barely hidden concern.

"No," his voice croaked. He cleared his throat. "My mother has discovered some…distressing news. It is a surprise, to say the least," he murmured. The Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, stepped forward immediately, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"Oh Severus, I do hope she is well?" he asked. Severus nodded whilst shrugging off the man's hand and with it his concern.

"My Mother is well, this news doesn't concern her….well not directly, anyway," he explained illusively.

Albus frowned at the explanation. He had known the boy for twenty years, seven of them as a student and the last thirteen more closely as a colleague and (he'd like to think) friend. When Severus chose to turn himself over to Albus as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix, he revealed his most innermost thoughts, his very soul. Albus has never felt guilt like he had when he discovered just how deeply the hatred between Severus Snape and James Potter ran. He found memories upon memories of a younger Severus, taunted, bullied and practically abused by the Gryffindor boy and his comrades. A group of boys that Albus held very close to his heart.

In his aging mind, the boys were the very epitome of Gryffindor – fiercely loyal to one another, brave and true. He felt that it was his personal responsibility to mould the boys, to ensure that they all stayed firmly within the light, that they didn't make the same mistakes that he himself had made as a boy.

In his ignorance, he completely missed just how simple it was for the boys to fall into a pattern of bad behaviour. Minerva; who was their Head of House, would complain about them time and time again. Horace; who was Severus' Head of House, would lament over the behaviour of the boys and at how it was affecting his student's school life. Albus would not listen and he lost the incredibly intelligent boy to the darkness.

It was only Severus' ability to have courage, and his ability to love, that made him see sense and sacrifice his very life to right every mistake he'd ever made. Albus held the dark haired man in such a high esteem, higher than he'd ever held James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin or Peter Pettigrew. The boy had become almost like a son to him, and he felt that it was his duty to help him in his hour of need.

"Tell me Severus, what is troubling you?" he asked.

Severus eyed the older man with suspicion. Did he know? Had Lily shared her troubles with her esteemed leader of the Light? He had learnt to trust the Headmaster, not only as his employer but also as a confidant. Albus had proved his trust in Severus time and time again, he kept him out of Azkaban when the Dark Lord fell and he always took his opinion into consideration.

"Perhaps it would be more appropriate to continue our conversation in your office, Headmaster. I am unsure of how is best to explain this to you, it would be easier to show you within the penseive," he explained.

Albus allowed a grey eyebrow to rise in surprise before offering a nod of agreement. He gestured to the fireplace, allowing the younger man to precede him through the floo.

Upon stepping into the Headmaster's office, Severus suddenly felt a sense of calm overcome him. Whilst his rooms and office reminded him of his ongoing loneliness and darkness, the Headmaster's office provided him with the one emotion that he struggled to understand and accept: Hope. Hope came in many forms; not all good and not all bad. As a student, he would hope that with every visit, his tormentors would finally receive their comeuppance – In this instance he would usually find his hope crushed and he would lament in his disappointment. When he surrendered himself to the Headmaster after sharing the prophecy with the Dark Lord, he allowed himself to feel the rush of hope that his life was not doomed, that the woman he loved would be saved and that whilst he had painted the target on her back, she would survive through his assistance as a spy. Again, his hope was quickly sucked from him upon finding her lifeless body.

He had promised himself, in that moment, that he would never allow himself to feel the insipid feeling that he had come to hate with a passion so great. But fate was a fickle friend, and whilst his occlumency allowed him to live in the appearance of the hated dungeon bat; his heart acted differently. Hope held his heart in the palm of its hand and would often remind him that life was full of hope. As he moved into the office he allowed the hope in his heart to spread across his body, hoping that whilst the thought of being a parent was a terrifying thought, it opened opportunities for him that he'd only ever dreamt of.

He sat heavily into the suede chair across from the Headmaster's ornate desk, silently taking in the pink and orange sky as the sun set against the picturesque backdrop that made up the grounds of Hogwarts.

As the Headmaster took a seat in the gilded chair across from him; his face marred with concern, Severus found himself blurting out.

"I have reason to believe that Harry Potter…..is my son."