Chapter 1: The Man Who Lies to the World
It was no secret that Ginny Potter favored her daughter over her sons. No one faulted her. Not her best friend Luna, who often commented on how alike the pair were, both in looks and temperament. Not Molly, the doting grandmother, who knew what a gift it was for a woman to have a daughter. Certainly not Albus Severus, who knew that the truth of the matter was that Lily was Ginny's only child.
It was a secret Albus shared with five others, though none knew of his discovery. Albus rather liked it that way. Albus had a fondness for secrets and the keeping of them. He collected secrets. This one just so happened to be his favorite.
It was this secret Albus contemplated as he twirled a quill between his fingers. A half filled parchment lay on the table before him, ending in the middle of a sentence. Mabel Longbottom, his girlfriend, confided to him a nugget of information he already possessed.
My mother was in healer training for a while. I'm not sure why she ever stopped.
Albus knew why, and he had never been so tempted to explain. Hannah Longbottom had been landlady of the Leaky Cauldron for many years now, but for a time she'd very seriously studied in the healing arts. From hidden letters, Albus knew it was a favor asked by his parents that derailed Hannah's ambitions. A secret they entrusted to no others, and may never have even shared with the Longbottoms had medical care not been necessary.
No man had ever been pregnant before Harry Potter, not that anyone knew it. Oscar Odell had that honor in the history books. Odell was the first full-term pregnancy using the official Masculo Praegnatio Potion recipe. Harry had been the unfortunate first trial, though purely accidental. One headache, a potion mix up, and a good buggering later had the Boy Who Lived in quite the pickle. Determined though they were to pass the child off as Ginny's, they would need close healer supervision, particularly in a condition such as the Wizarding world had never seen before. Their only hope was in the wife of a dear friend who happened to be nearing the completion of her medical studies.
Hannah's involvement with Harry's first pregnancy was too close, required too much secrecy. When her program became suspicious of her questions and her notes, Hannah dropped the program rather than risk the Potters' secret. Albus was unsure if Hannah resented them - she had been perfectly friendly to his family his whole life.
What would Mabel think, Albus mused. What would anyone think?
Humming to himself, Albus dropped the quill to the page and scratched out the remainder of his sentence, secret still snugly bottled up inside. It was safe there. Albus felt secure in it. His very own secret within a secret.
A pop of Apparition followed by muttered voices outside the door pulled Albus from his reverie. Hastily he stuffed the quill and ink back into a drawer and the parchment into the front pocket of his bathrobe. Mabel would forgive creases and tears. She forgave most people most things. His father, however, would take some convincing. The children were supposed to stay out of Harry's office, especially unsupervised. Unfortunately Harry's desk was Albus's favorite place to write. The sixteen year old ducked behind the desk and, when judged safe, darted across the room to the door. His father wasn't near the office yet, but he may be soon, and Albus did not want to be caught there.
The office spilled out into a small hallway off of the living room. It was in that living room Harry Potter stood with one Severus Snape. Albus hesitated in the crack of the door. Severus very rarely visited Godric's Hollow. Albus could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen his other father in this house. They had never been lengthy visits. More often than not the Potters visited Severus's home in Falmouth.
Dropping to his knees, Albus darted to the bathroom across the hall as the men muttered to one another.
"Unhand me, Potter," Severus hissed, shaking Harry off of his arm.
"Stop being stubborn, Severus. You need help."
"I can help myself, you infernal child."
"I am not a child, you dunce. I'm forty one now."
"And I am nearly sixty-one, Potter. I have learned by now to care for myself."
"It wouldn't hurt you to let someone take care of you, for a change."
Albus was intrigued. He meant to prance out of the bathroom and up to his bedroom as if he'd never been near Harry's office. Maybe he'd stop for a chat with both fathers before retiring with a dramatic yawn. Now Albus hung in the dark doorway, sharp eyes noting the limp with which Severus moved. Harry turned and Albus stepped further into the shadows, out of view, holding his breath. After a few moments, listening to nothing but the pounding of his own heart, Albus peeked around the door frame.
At some point during that silence, Harry and Severus had begun kissing. Albus gaped at them from his hiding spot. They had reached the start of the hallway, destination unknown. Harry's back was pressed into the wall, the other's tall body flush against him. Hands tangled in hair, in robes; mouths biting and licking hungrily. Albus had never seen the like. Harry and Ginny always shared chaste, sweet kisses with gentle affection. This was angry. This was agony.
Unable to bear the sight, Albus stepped back into the shadows once more. The image was burned into his eyes. Groping, clawing, violent lust.
Realistically, Albus always knew Harry and Severus had once been intimate. How else would he and James exist but not for that? Only Albus had assumed their romance had ended years ago. The teen pressed his palms into his eyes to drive away the sight of them. Harry and Ginny had been separated during both conceptions, hadn't they? Albus thought of fond smiles and clasped hands shared between the married Potters. They loved each other, didn't they? Harry would never hurt his wife in that way, would he?
A needy whimper sounded from nearby. Albus hesitated before looking, wondering if the sound was pleasure or pain. Severus's mouth had latched to Harry's throat, Harry's hands clutching at his back, one leg hooked around his lover's. Pale, slender fingers pressed to the front of Harry's trousers. Eager hips pressed forward into the touch. Harry's head banged back into the wall and his palms pushed gently at Severus's chest.
"Merlin, Sev'rus…we can't," Harry reluctantly gasped.
Severus stiffened and shoved away. His bad leg buckled beneath him. Harry reached out to aid him, but Severus caught himself on the wall and slapped away Harry's hand. "Of course not," Severus snapped. "It isn't as though you have ever been unfaithful to Ms. Weasley."
"Mrs. Potter," Harry corrected coldly. He sighed, tension melting from his shoulders as he rubbed the back of his neck. "It's been five years, Severus. Doesn't make it okay since we…before."
"Take me home, Potter," Severus demanded.
"It's Harry."
"You're only Harry when I'm balls deep in your arse, boy," Severus hissed, grasping unruly black hair and forcing Harry's head back. Dark eyes flicked down to Harry's mouth. Albus couldn't see his dad's face, but he did spot the hand rising to cup Severus's elbow. "Take me home."
Harry broke himself free and walked towards the living room. "It's not safe. You should stay here, in the guest room."
"You apprehended my attackers, Potter. Unless you plan on joining me, I see no reason to remain." Severus stalked Harry like a predator towards the couch. Harry was shaking his head, denials too quiet and strained for Albus to make out the words. He gleaned the meaning through tone and expression. "If you were so concerned about your wife, you would leave me be."
Harry stared at Severus for a long moment, a spasm in his tight jaw. "You know I can't."
"Because you love me?" Severus spat.
"Yes." Albus couldn't hear the word, it was so quiet, but he was excellent at reading lips. His heart clenched at the shine in Harry's eyes, wondering if they were tears, or if it was a trick of the light.
Severus snorted cruelly. "Thank you for your aid, Auror Potter."
Albus pressed his back against the door, not daring to watch as Severus stumbled across the living room, fumbling with the objects on the mantle. Only when he heard the hiss of the Floo did he count to ten and peer out. Harry still stood there, back to Albus, one arm wrapped around his middle, the other rubbing at his eyes. Albus swallowed around the lump in his throat. Was his dad crying? Harry took a shuddering breath, muttering to himself, "Idiot."
When Harry began to turn, Albus quickly hid himself again, hoping his dad didn't need to relieve himself. Thankfully it was into his office that the man disappeared. When the door clicked shut, Albus quietly crept up to his bedroom with a heavy heart.
If Albus was distant for the rest of Christmas holiday, no one commented on it. Holing up in his room with his books was not an unusual habit. Staring off into space, lost in thought, was a common expression for his narrow face. James teased him for being heartsick, apart from Mabel for so long. James mimed a fairly disgusting display of kissing that Albus found to be unfair. He and Mabel made a much classier sight than that in the corridors, if he did say so himself. Lily and Ginny gagged exaggeratively while Harry laughed into his pumpkin juice.
Albus afforded James a very indignant glare, and otherwise kept his gaze away from anyone. Especially Harry.
Back at Hogwarts, life resumed some shade of normalcy. He and Scorpius stayed up late into the night, discussing conspiracy theories in their dormitory. By day Albus walked Mabel to class and kissed her in corners. If he was more distracted than usual, Mabel broached the subject with nothing but selfless concern. Her Hufflepuff kindness, which first attracted Albus, now left him with gnawing guilt. He felt undeserving of her patience. He wasn't sure why. Albus wasn't the one to betray the people who trusted him.
Never in his life had Albus been so tempted to share his secret. Never before had it felt so much like a burden. His oldest, dearest friend had become poison in his veins.
Wide-eyed Scorpius would share rumors of Headmistress McGonagall being impersonated by a Polyjuiced goblin. Albus would bite his tongue until it bled, wanting to scream the truth at him. "My father is cheating on my beautiful mother with an ugly, acerbic bastard who just so happens to be my other father. Funny enough, my mother is not really my mother. My dad gave birth to me and James. We are the products of his infidelity. He swallowed the words and they tasted like bile.
Scorpius might consider whether Harry had ingested the potion voluntarily, or if Severus had spiked his pumpkin juice with it. Albus wondered that himself. The words were right there, ready to tumble from his quivering lips. He could be free of this. He wouldn't be alone with his thoughts anymore. Scorpius would be his sounding board. The words bounded around his skull, banging and begging to be set free.
Sitting beneath a tree, gazing into Mabel's clear blue eyes, he felt the words pulling forth as to a magnet. Her hands were soft in his, soothing his uneasy soul. The way her honey blond hair gleamed in the sunlight was entrancing. Everything about her called to him, safety and security for all of his troubles. The words sat heavy on his tongue. "Is it wrong, do you think, that I wish they could be together? I love my mother, but Severus is my real parent. He and my dad are still in love. Is it bad that I want Dad to leave Mum for Severus? That I want to be a family with them instead? Or to at least know what it's like?"
Oh how he yearned to confide in her. Even still the words hit a barrier that not even sweet Mabel could break through.
Whatever Albus felt for his fathers, he couldn't reveal what had been hidden for so long. However tempting, he had sealed the truth inside of himself, and he didn't know how to let go.
In June, James graduated. An entire row was reserved for the Weasley-Potter clan of which Severus Snape happened to be part. Even after all these years, the Potters' friendship with their old professor, and their naming him godfather to their children, raised brows. Nearby families watched and whispered as he joined them. He sat in the middle of the row, only Albus separating him from Harry. Albus barely paid mind to the ceremony, too aware of the tension between his fathers. Or was that only his imagination? Lily sat between Harry and Ginny. Fitting, Albus mused, how they each sat between both of their parents.
"James Sirius Potter," Headmistress McGonagall called.
Severus didn't smile. He didn't hoop and holler as the Weasleys did. He clapped politely as he watched James swagger across the stage, offering a theatrical bow to the headmistress as she placed his diploma in his open hand. Only Albus saw the pride shining in those dark eyes.
The same dark eyes that sparkled mischievously in James's face as he winked at the crowd.
For a week the family celebrated James's achievements. James wouldn't let them do otherwise. He was proud as could be of his NEWT scores, of all of the Quidditch offers being sent by owl, of making McGonagall blush when he kissed her cheek. He would brag to anyone who would stand still long enough about his successful school years and the promise of a bright future ahead.
All the while some dark corner of Albus's brain plotted.
By the time the first Sunday of summer holidays rolled around, the Potter household was marginally calmer. Albus sat on the settee, eyes glued to Mabel's most recent letter, taking none of it in. James and Harry conversed nearby about the pros and cons of each Quidditch team courting James. Albus nervously shifted his legs, green eyes flicking up to the clock. It was nearly time.
"Look at me, boys!" Lily exclaimed, bursting into the living room. Fourteen years old, she still playfully twirled like a child to show off the flowing of her new periwinkle dress. Her private enjoyment of frivolity was hidden behind false humor, as evidenced by her laughter and exasperated shrug.
"Mum, you never get me new dresses!" James complained.
Ginny rolled her eyes from behind Lily, extending a choice of two ribbons to her daughter. "I'll buy you the gown of your dreams when you settle on a team."
James grinned. "Promise?"
"Does that mean you like it, Jamesy?" Lily giggled, twirling the opposite direction.
"Come now, we don't want to be late," Harry said, checking his watch. "You know how Severus is."
"Mean?" Lily suggested.
"Killjoy?" James added.
"Bitter?" Ginny muttered.
"Has better things to do than wait around for us?" Albus put in, a tad more harshly than intended. Only Ginny gave him a confused look for this, as James and Lily were still trading adjectives of a negative nature.
"Particular, was what I had in mind," Harry interjected, amused. "Come along, line up."
One by one the Potters Flooed directly into Snape's living room. It was a cramped space, with more furniture than a bachelor warranted. Albus figured it was their fault. More furniture was needed to accommodate his frequent guests. The armchair was Severus's, the settee for the couple, the puffy couch for the children. Numerous tables for drinks and snacks and books and games. There was even a small bookshelf squeezed between a table and the couch, which Albus appreciated. Over the years it came to be filled with more of Albus's favorite genres, with a few Quidditch titles that could only have been thrown in for James's benefit.
Surprisingly, the room was empty when Albus entered, an open book face down on the arm of the chair. He frowned, stepping aside to avoid being trampled by James. Lily shrieked from a nearby room. Albus and James glanced at each other then rushed towards the sound of her voice.
In the kitchen, Lily hovered where Severus stood at the sink. "Oh, Uncle Sev'rus, what happened?"
"Oh, Merlin," James whispered. "Dad! Mum! Come quick!"
Severus was shirtless, letting cool water from the faucet ease nasty burns on his arms. Two sets of pounding footsteps later and suddenly the tiny kitchen was packed with six people. Albus shuffled closer to allow his parents entrance, but also to steal a closer look at the injuries.
"My apologies," Severus said calmly. "I should have owled that I would be unavailable this morning, but I rather lost track of the time."
"Severus, what did you do?" Harry demanded, rushing to his side. "Lily, move along. Go with your mother."
"Will Uncle Sev'rus be okay?" Lily asked shakily as she backed away.
"Never fear, child," Severus assured her through a wince. Albus hoped Lily didn't see the blood dripping down the man's other side. "I have endured much worse."
"Come, Lily, James, Albus," Ginny directed, stepping aside to gesture the children ahead of her. James pushed Lily ahead of him, glancing back to the scene with concern. Ginny impatiently beckoned Albus forward.
"Go on, Mum. I'll be more help than Dad," Albus said, rolling up his sleeves. Harry had his hand on Severus's lower back, the other cupping his wounded hand, leaning in close to whisper soothingly. Ginny's eyes flashed, but she walked away without a word.
"I don't need you, Potter," Severus snarled, jerking his wounded arm away. The hand on his back stroked up and down comfortingly.
"Clearly you need a chaperon," Harry snapped. "You're content to bleed out in the sink, are you?"
Their nearness was unbearable to Albus, that charged air between them. Albus could feel it from where he stood. They had eyes only for one another. Was Harry touching Severus more than usual, taking advantage of the situation? Was that energy as much sexual as it was angry?
"One of Professor Longbottom's experiments, then, was it?" Albus finally asked, breaking the spell between them. Harry instantly shifted away from Severus, who stiffened instead. Had they forgotten he was there, or had they never noticed in the first place?
"Indeed," Severus agreed. "He sent me samples of his new mandrake-mugwort abomination. I may tell him to burn the entire crop."
Albus nodded. "I'll grab some supplies." As he headed to the potions storeroom, he saw Harry step closer, reaching out again. His addled mind struggled to differentiate between salves he normally grabbed instinctively. Nerves caused him to fumble with the jars, so that he held them close to his chest as he reentered the kitchen.
"I have tended myself before, you impudent child."
"You shouldn't have to. Ah, there he is." Harry was standing at Severus's other side, examining the nasty cut that stretched from underarm to elbow. "I can handle this, Al."
"You shouldn't have to," Albus mocked, handing Harry one of the jars and keeping the other to himself. "Pat that over the cut. Don't rub it." Severus turned his head away from Harry as he smirked. The sight of it eased something in Albus, pleasure warming his chest. Severus was not an easy man to amuse.
Quietly they worked. Harry patted the yellow balm into the jagged cut. Albus carefully massaged a gray salve into the burns on his left arm. Severus stared resolutely out of the window, entire body tense. Albus curiously eyed the old scars on his chest and his back when he dared. They must have come from his spying days. The two punctures in his neck were from Nagini, he knew, but what could have caused that mass of scar tissue between his shoulder blades? The twin lines down his chest could be from any number of poisonous, thorny plants, likely from Neville's stock.
The area Albus had most access to was the Dark Mark on his left forearm. The burn covered the faded snake. "Your Uncle Severus was a Slytherin, and he is probably the bravest man I have ever known," he recalled his dad saying. The tattoo was gray and pitiful now, but still a symbol of great fear from a dark time. It was the mark of Severus's greatest shame. Albus could tell it bothered the man that he was so near it. His jaw clenched whenever Albus's fingers brushed over the mark.
"I'm proud you're my father," Albus wanted to assure him. "I always have been." Harry's words had been a comfort, but when Albus was sorted into Slytherin it was the deeper meaning he took to heart. His other father was a hero, too. The Slytherin side of his nature was honestly come by, and nothing to fear. He was proud as he wrote to his parents of his sorting, more enthused in his letter to "Uncle Severus" than anyone. Albus liked to think Severus was the most proud of him. He liked to think it meant something to the man, that one of his sons followed in his footsteps.
"Al," Harry said gently. "It's okay, I can finish from here."
Albus's lips trembled, throat tight, struggling to keep his emotions at bay. It was not the injuries that bothered him so, but how could he explain the torrent of longing and frustration, and the weight of his silence affecting him? Severus carefully tugged his arm free. "Thank you, Albus. That will be all."
Harry took over treating the burns. Albus left the kitchen in a daze. Ginny, James, and Lily were laughing in the living room. Albus passed them by, climbing the stairs to the attic. Attics had always been his favorite room in any house, but especially here. It was where he first learned the truth of his parentage, in letters and photos hidden at the bottom of a locked trunk.
As had been his intention all along, he dug for his favorite photo and pocketed it. He then sat on the trunk until his mother called for him to leave. Those thirty minutes passed by in the blink of an eye. Likely they only stayed long enough for Harry to treat the wounds. Their visits were usually much longer than this. Albus wondered if the wizards made the most of their minimal time, if they dared touch and kiss with the others so close. Would it bother them that their time was so short, or glad to part from such temptation?
Lily and James were already gone by the time Albus walked downstairs. Severus was fully clothed now, resting in his armchair with a warm cup of tea. Harry and Ginny stood by the fireplace, jar of Floo powder in hand.
"Actually, I'd like to stay a few minutes, if that's alright?" he asked, looking to Severus. The man was wounded, but if Albus didn't do this now, he wasn't sure he ever would.
Severus held his gaze for a moment, then nodded to Harry and Ginny. Albus didn't look at his parents as they silently Flooed home. Only when they were gone did Albus pull the picture from his pocket.
"I'd like to keep this, if you don't mind," Albus said, holding it out.
Brows furrowed, Severus took the picture. His fingers tightened around it, looking sharply up at him. "How," he demanded through clenched teeth, "did you lay your grubby hands on this?"
Albus shrugged and shuffled on his feet. "Uncle George showed me how to pick locks ages ago. I found that when I was nine, about."
Severus's face was paler than usual as he stared down at the picture, left eye twitching. Right thumb smoothed carefully across the image. Albus knew the scene by heart. Harry was seated at the end of the couch, Severus in the armchair he sat in now. Severus in the photo leaned towards Harry to rest his hand on the rounded belly. Harry in the photo smiled, covering that hand with his own. The pair shared a soft, sad look.
"He was…pregnant…with me in this one, wasn't he?" Albus asked. He had to cough out the word 'pregnant', so unnatural on his tongue. Severus glanced up at him, but didn't respond. "My mum didn't take that, did she?" A jerk of the man's shoulder could have been a shrug or pain. "I don't imagine she was thrilled by any of this."
"Hannah Longbottom," Severus explained. "She was…checking on him. And you."
"Oh. I should have guessed," Albus said. "I saw the letters, too. I knew she was involved."
"You're a sneaky brat, like your father," Severus commented, more exhausted than truly irritated. "No regard for others' privacy."
Albus had no response to that. He had always been a curious boy, on the hunt for truth to uncover. Albus was always snooping, but he never told any of the secrets he found. They were his for safekeeping. He never told anyone of James's preference for men, or Lily's crush on Cian Finnegan, not Aunt Audrey's affair, or cousin Roxanne's shoplifting. Even this revelation ate at him, and it was with someone who shared the knowledge. Albus didn't know how to explain any of this, so instead he said, "Can I keep it, then? Please?"
"No," Severus whispered. "Who else knows?"
"No one," Albus replied, shoulders slumping. "I'd never tell. Not ever." He swallowed. "But I saw you kissing Dad. At Christmas. You should be more careful."
Severus frowned. "Clearly." He rested the photo face down on his knee. "My possessions are not yours to take as you wish, but you may…examine these at your leisure. If you keep them to yourself."
"I have this long, haven't I?" Albus snapped, offense at last breaking through his despondency.
Severus nodded. "You should go home now, Albus, before your mother frets."
Frustrated, Albus marched to the fireplace. The Floo jar was still open on the mantle. Trust his father to never put the lid back on. A pinch of powder between his fingers and he replaced the top with his free hand. Before he could leave, Severus spoke behind him.
"You should know what these visits have meant, over the years," the man stated gruffly, uncertainly. Tears stung Albus's eyes.
"Yeah," he replied. "I know."