Here's chapter two! Enjoy!
When Harry made it up to the Gryffindor tower Ron was sitting alone in the common room. "Hey Ron..."
"Hey Sammy...can I-? Can I tell you something?"
Sammy frowned and sat down next to his best friend, "You can tell me anything, Ron."
"Well, first off...I've done a lot of thinking about myself...I'm gay, Sammy."
"That's no big deal. Dad and Papa are gay...and so am I. So if you thought I'd stop being your friend over-"
"That's not all." Ron interrupted. "I-I like you a lot more than I should, Sammy. Whether your Sammy or Harry..."
Sammy stopped his rambling by kissing the redhead softly. He grinned when he sat back. "I like you a lot more than I should as well, Ron."
Ron grinned, his confidence back, "Then would you accompany me on a date next weekend?"
Sammy chuckled, "Of course Ron. But we just received four books from your future self. They're about if Papa never told Dad and I the truth. we thought you should join us."
"What about Hermione?" Ron asked his eyebrows raised.
Sammy shrugged, "She's with her parents in America for vacation. We can summarize and send her a letter later." he took Ron's hand in his own and entwined their fingers. "So are you coming?"
"Of course." Ron said kissing Sammy's temple lovingly as they both headed down to the dungeons together.
~oOo~
"Ronald Weasley is going to be the death of me." Severus said as Sirius leaned against the doorframe.
"Why is that?" the ex-convict asked with raised eyebrows.
Severus sighed, "Because of the way he looks at our son. They love each other, they just won't admit it."
"They're what? Thirteen? Fourteen years old? How could they possibly know what love is?"
Severus raised an eyebrow at his husband, "And how old were we when we started to date?"
Sirius grumbled, "Fair point. Anyway, we just received four books from the future Ron Weasley. They are going to tell us what the future would have looked like if I hadn't told you all the truth about what happened."
Severus sighed, "Is this about me ignoring you?" he asked when he saw Sirius' sad eyes. When Sirius didn't respond Severus had his answer. "Siri, I love you more than life itself...but I thought you killed our son...I thought our son was dead...why didn't you tell me? You could have sent letters from Azkaban!"
Sirius looked confused, "I did send you letters...one every week. We were only allowed to write one person every week and I chose you every time. I begged, pleaded even for you to believe me when I told you Sammy was alive. I just thought you had found someone else and was happy wherever you were."
Severus looked shocked, "I never received any letters...oh that man! Dumbledore must have kept them from me. I'm so sorry Siri." he said softly.
Sirius took the man in his arms, "Shhh, it's alright Sev. We're both here now and we're not going anywhere. I love you so much, Sev."
"I love you too, Siri." And they shared a passionate kiss.
"Ahh!" A yell came from the doorway. "That was definitely more than I wanted to see!" Sammy exclaimed while Ron chuckled next to him.
"Get used to it, Sammy." Sirius said with a grin. "How do you think you came around?"
Severus smacked his husband upside the head as Sammy paled. "Oh sweet Merlin, I did not want to hear that." the thirteen year old exclaimed as he drug Ron into the living room, still holding the red-heads hand.
Severus and Sirius raised their eyebrows as the two friends sat next to each other, closer than what the parents thought should be allowed. "Who's going to read first?" Sammy asked.
Severus took the first book from the table, "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire"
Severus and Sirius paled, "Sweet Merlin." Sirius muttered as Severus opened the book.
Severus flipped to the first page and began to read, "The Scar."
They all looked at each other, what did Sammy's scar have to do with anything?
Harry lay flat on his back, breathing hard as though he had been running. He had awoken from a vivid dream with his hands pressed over his face. The old scar on his forehead, which was shaped like a bolt of lightning, was burning beneath his fingers as though someone had just pressed a white-hot wire to his skin.
Severus glanced at his son who seemed perfectly content next to the red-head. Severus glared at the boy for a moment before going back to reading.
Sammy looked amused as Ron grimaced. He knew his parents were going to be hard on Ron, but it was only because they had just found each other...now he was dating.
He sat up, one hand still on his scar, the other hand reaching out in the darkness for his glasses, which were on the bedside table. He put them on and his bedroom came into clearer focus, lit by a faint, misty orange light that was filtering through the curtains from the street lamp outside the window.
Harry ran his fingers over the scar again. It was still painful. He turned on the lamp beside him, scrambled out of bed, crossed the room, opened his wardrobe, and peered into the mirror on the inside of the door. A skinny boy of fourteen looked back at him, his bright green eyes puzzled under his untidy black hair.
He examined the lightning-bolt scar of his reflection more closely. It looked normal, but it was still stinging.
Ron seemed concerned. Sammy had never said anything about his scar stinging.
Harry tried to recall what he had been dreaming about before he had awoken. It had seemed so real… There had been two people he knew and one he didn't…
He concentrated hard, frowning, trying to remember… The dim picture of a darkened room came to him… There had been a snake on a hearth rug… a small man called Peter, nicknamed Wormtail…
The Snape family glared at the book, Ron did as well though it looked out of place. The Snape family could be frightening if they wanted to be.
and a cold, high voice… the voice of Lord Voldemort. Harry felt as though an ice cube had slipped down into his stomach at the very thought...
Sammy shuddered and Ron put his arm around his shoulder in a comforting motion. Sirius and Severus glanced at each other before Severus continued to read.
He closed his eyes tightly and tried to remember what Voldemort had looked like, but it was impossible… All Harry knew was that at the moment when Voldemort's chair had swung around, and he, Harry, had seen what was sitting in it, he had felt a spasm of horror, which had awoken him… or had that been the pain in his scar?
"It was most likely both." Sirius said with a frown on his face.
And who had the old man been? For there had definitely been an old man; Harry had watched him fall to the ground.
Sammy glanced at his fathers, "He killed him didn't he?"
Severus grimaced but nodded, that sounded like Voldemort alright. Killing unsuspecting innocents.
It was all becoming confused. Harry put his face into his hands, blocking out his bedroom, trying to hold on to the picture of that dimly lit room, but it was like trying to keep water in his cupped hands; the details were now trickling away as fast as he tried to hold on to them…
Voldemort and Wormtail had been talking about someone they had killed, though Harry could not remember the name… and they had been plotting to kill someone else… him!
Severus and Sirius froze at those words, Ron did as well but it was not as noticable. They had just got their baby boy back and in a couple of months this would be happening...why did Voldemort want their son?
Harry took his face out of his hands, opened his eyes, and stared around his bedroom as though expecting to see something unusual there. As it happened, there was an extraordinary number of unusual things in this room. A large wooden trunk stood open at the foot of his bed, revealing a cauldron, broomstick, black robes, and assorted spell books.
Sammy looked surprised, the Dursley's had actually allowed his school things in his room? When did that happen?
Rolls of parchment littered that part of his desk that was not taken up by the large, empty cage in which his snowy owl, Hedwig, usually perched. On the floor beside his bed a book lay open; Harry had been reading it before he fell asleep last night.
The pictures in this book were all moving. Men in bright orange robes were zooming in and out of sight on broomsticks, throwing a red ball to one another.
Sirius groaned, "Please tell me you're not a Cannons fan?"
Sammy looked sheepish, "Blame it on him! He got me to like them!"
Ron blushed a Weasley red, "Don't blame it on me! Dad liked them first, he brought me to my first Quiddatch game."
Harry walked over to the book, picked it up, and watched one of the wizards score a spectacular goal by putting the ball through a fifty-foot-high hoop. Then he snapped the book shut. Even Quidditch — in Harry's opinion, the best sport in the world — couldn't distract him at the moment. He placed Flying with the Cannons on his bedside table, crossed to the window, and drew back the curtains to survey the street below.
Privet Drive looked exactly as a respectable suburban street would be expected to look in the early hours of Saturday morning. All the curtains were closed. As far as Harry could see through the darkness, there wasn't a living creature in sight, not even a cat.
"As far as you can see." Severus sneered, "Knowing the old coot, he would have had guards surrounding you, keeping you from the truth."
And yet… and yet… Harry went restlessly back to the bed and sat down on it, running a finger over his scar again. It wasn't the pain that bothered him; Harry was no stranger to pain and injury.
"With the amount of time you spend in the infirmary, I can see that." Severus said glaring at his son.
Sammy smiled sheepishly, "Sorry?"
He had lost all the bones from his right arm once and had them painfully re-grown in a night.
Sirius looked alarmed, "When did this happen?"
The other three winced, "Lockheart."
"The nitwit Hufflepuff?" Sirius asked, "What does he have to do with anything?"
Severus groaned, "He was DADA professor in Sammy's second year. Sammy got hit by a bludger and Lockheart thought he could heal it."
"He just took out all the bones instead." Sammy finished.
The same arm had been pierced by a venomous foot-long fang not long afterward.
This time all three of them turned to Sammy. "When did this happen?!" Ron exclaimed, "You never mentioned that!"
Sammy blushed, "Well...erm...you see...I didn't want to worry anyone."
"How are you still alive?" Severus asked softly.
Sammy shrugged, "Faux."
"What does he have to do with anything?" Sirius asked, he was nearing hysterics.
"Phoenix tears have healing properties." Severus explained. "We're going to discuss your...stunts...later." he said to Sammy who looked down.
Only last year Harry had fallen fifty feet from an airborne broomstick.
Now it was Sirius' turn to look sheepish as Severus glared at him.
He was used to bizarre accidents and injuries; they were unavoidable if you attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and had a knack for attracting a lot of trouble.
"That's true." Ron muttered.
No, the thing that was bothering Harry was the last time his scar had hurt him, it had been because Voldemort had been close by… But Voldemort couldn't be here, now… The idea of Voldemort lurking in Privet Drive was absurd, impossible…
Harry listened closely to the silence around him. Was he half expecting to hear the creak of a stair or the swish of a cloak? And then he jumped slightly as he heard his cousin Dudley give a tremendous grunting snore from the next room.
Harry shook himself mentally; he was being stupid. There was no one in the house with him except Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley, and they were plainly still asleep, their dreams untroubled and painless.
Asleep was the way Harry liked the Dursleys best; it wasn't as though they were ever any help to him awake. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley were Harry's only living relatives.
"That's not true." Sirius said with a sad smile.
Sammy suddenly frowned, "So there was nothing at Private Drive keeping me safe. They weren't my family so the blood wards wouldn't work...besides, Lily Potter wasn't my mother."
Severus frowned, "Then it's a good thing that you're never going back."
They were Muggles who hated and despised magic in any form, which meant that Harry was about as welcome in their house as dry rot.
They had explained away Harry's long absences at Hogwarts over the last three years by telling everyone that he went to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys.
"WHAT?!" Sirius, Severus, and Ron exclaimed.
Sammy just shrugged, "It's not like it matters."
They knew perfectly well that, as an underage wizard, Harry wasn't allowed to use magic outside Hogwarts, but they were still apt to blame him for anything that went wrong about the house.
Harry had never been able to confide in them or tell them anything about his life in the wizarding world. The very idea of going to them when they awoke, and telling them about his scar hurting him, and about his worries about Voldemort, was laughable.
And yet it was because of Voldemort that Harry had come to live with the Dursleys in the first place.
Severus frowned, "That's not necessarily true...it's really Dumbledore's fault."
If it hadn't been for Voldemort, Harry would not have had the lightning scar on his forehead. If it hadn't been for Voldemort, Harry would still have had parents…
Harry had been a year old the night that Voldemort — the most powerful Dark wizard for a century, a wizard who had been gaining power steadily for eleven years — arrived at his house and killed his father and mother.
No one knew what to say. None of this was true. It was true that Lily and James died...but little Harry went with them...at least he didn't suffer.
Voldemort had then turned his wand on Harry; he had performed the curse that had disposed of many full-grown witches and wizards in his steady rise to power — and, incredibly, it had not worked. Instead of killing the small boy, the curse had rebounded upon Voldemort.
"That part is true though." Sirius said with a sad sigh.
Harry had survived with nothing but a lightning-shaped cut on his forehead, and Voldemort had been reduced to something barely alive. His powers gone, his life almost extinguished, Voldemort had fled; the terror in which the secret community of witches and wizards had lived for so long had lifted, Voldemort's followers had disbanded, and Harry Potter had become famous.
Ron smirked, "Now Samuel Aaron Snape is famous."
Sammy scowled and elbowed Ron in the ribs, much to his parents amusement.
It had been enough of a shock for Harry to discover, on his eleventh birthday, that he was a wizard; it had been even more disconcerting to find out that everyone in the hidden wizarding world knew his name.
Harry had arrived at Hogwarts to find that heads turned and whispers followed him wherever he went. But he was used to it now: At the end of this summer, he would be starting his fourth year at Hogwarts, and Harry was already counting the days until he would be back at the castle again.
"I did that." Sirius and Severus said together. They then smiled at each other when they realized they had said the same thing.
But there was still a fortnight to go before he went back to school. He looked hopelessly around his room again, and his eye paused on the birthday cards his two best friends had sent him at the end of July.
What would they say if Harry wrote to them and told them about his scar hurting?
At once, Hermione Granger's voice seemed to fill his head, shrill and panicky.
"Your scar hurt? Harry, that's really serious… Write to Professor Dumbledore! And I'll go and check Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions… Maybe there's something in there about curse scars…"
Ron chuckled, "That sounds exactly like Hermione."
Yes that would be Hermione's advice: Go straight to the headmaster of Hogwarts, and in the meantime, consult a book.
Sirius chuckled as Severus looked amused.
Harry stared out of the window at the inky blue-black sky. He doubted very much whether a book could help him now. As far as he knew, he was the only living person to have survived a curse like Voldemort's; it was highly unlikely, therefore, that he would find his symptoms listed in Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions.
As for informing the headmaster, Harry had no idea where Dumbledore went during the summer holidays. He amused himself for a moment, picturing Dumbledore, with his long silver beard, full length wizard's robes, and pointed hat, stretched out on a beach somewhere, rubbing suntan lotion… onto his long crooked nose.
Ron and Sirius couldn't help but laugh as Severus raised an eyebrow. "The old coot never left the protection of the castle."
Wherever Dumbledore was, though, Harry was sure that Hedwig would be able to find him; Harry's owl had never yet failed to deliver a letter to anyone, even without an address. But what would he write?
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
Sorry to bother you, but my scar hurt this morning.
Yours sincerely,
Harry Potter.
Even inside his head the words sounded stupid.
Ron nodded with an amused smile, "I think you would've worded it better though."
And so he tried to imagine his other best friend, Ron Weasley's, reaction, and in a moment, Ron's red hair and long-nosed, freckled face seemed to swim before Harry, wearing a bemused expression.
"Your scar hurt? But… but You-Know-Who can't be near you now, can he? I mean… you'd know, wouldn't you? He'd be trying to do you in again, wouldn't be? I dunno, Harry, maybe curse scars always twinge a bit… I'll ask Dad…"
Ron was beat red as Sirius chuckled.
Mr. Weasley was a fully qualified wizard who worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, but he didn't have any particular expertise in the matter of curses, as far as Harry knew.
In any case, Harry didn't like the idea of the whole Weasley family knowing that he, Harry, was getting jumpy about a few moments' pain. Mrs. Weasley would fuss worse than Hermione, and Fred and George, Ron's sixteen- year-old twin brothers, might think Harry was losing his nerve.
Ron frowned, "I don't think so. They'd be worried, for certain...but they see you as family, Sammy." Severus and Sirius were instantly glad that Sammy had had the Weasley family when he went through everything he went through.
The Weasleys were Harry's favorite family in the world; he was hoping that they might invite him to stay any time now (Ron had mentioned something about the Quidditch World Cup), and he somehow didn't want his visit punctuated with anxious inquiries about his scar.
Harry kneaded his forehead with his knuckles. What he really wanted (and it felt almost shameful to admit it to himself) was someone like - someone like a parent: an adult wizard whose advice he could ask without feeling stupid, someone who cared about him, who had had experience with Dark Magic…And then the solution came to him. It was so simple, and so obvious, that he couldn't believe it had taken so long – Sirius.
Sirius smiled sadly, "Technically I am one of your parents." Severus frowned as Sirius continued. "And it's nothing to be ashamed of...everyone needs a parental figure in their lives."
Sammy smiled, "And now I have both of my parents." Sammy left Ron's side to sit in between his parents. He felt safe there, and he wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. He leaned his head on Severus' shoulder and sighed in content as Sirius rubbed calming circles on his hand.
Ron understood completely and smiled at his best mate, he deserved to be happy.
Harry leapt up from the bed, hurried across the room, and sat down at his desk; he pulled a piece of parchment toward him, loaded his eagle-feather quill with ink, wrote Dear Sirius, then paused, wondering how best to phrase his problem, still marveling at the fact that he hadn't thought of Sirius straight away.
But then, perhaps it wasn't so surprising - after all, he had only found out that Sirius was his godfather two months ago.
"Actually, James was your godfather." Severus said softly. "They wouldn't let Remus be godfather because of his...condition...but he is you unofficial godfather."
There was a simple reason for Sirius's complete absence from Harry's life until then - Sirius had been in Azkaban, the terrifying wizard jail guarded by creatures called Dementors, sightless, soul-sucking fiends who had come to search for Sirius at Hogwarts when he had escaped.
Yet Sirius had been innocent - the murders for which he had been convicted had been committed by Wormtail, Voldemort's supporter, whom nearly everybody now believed dead.
"It was even worse because everyone believed I had brought my own son to his death." Sirius said sadly, the image of Harry glamoured as Sammy running through his mind, he shivered.
Sammy frowned and leaned his head on Sirius' chest, breathing in his comforting scent. Sirius buried his face in his son's hair and wrapped his arms around the boy, holding onto him as if his life depended on it.
Severus watched the two sadly and then he continued to read.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew otherwise, however; they had come face-to-face with Wormtail only the previous year, though only Professor Dumbledore had believed their story.
For one glorious hour, Harry had believed that he was leaving the Dursleys at last, because Sirius had offered him a home once his name had been cleared.
"What I don't understand is why I didn't tell either of you the truth!" Sirius said still clinging to his son.
But the chance had been snatched away from him - Wormtail had escaped before they could take him to the Ministry of Magic,
Everyone in the room froze, "Must be karma." Sirius mumbled. "I didn't tell you so fates coming back to bite me in the arse."
and Sirius had had to flee for his life. Harry had helped him escape on the back of a hippogriff called Buckbeak, and since then, Sirius had been on the run.
The home Harry might have had if Wormtail had not escaped had been haunting him all summer. It had been doubly hard to return to the Dursleys knowing that he had so nearly escaped them forever.
Nevertheless, Sirius had been of some help to Harry, even if he couldn't be with him.
It was due to Sirius that Harry now had all his school things in his bedroom with him.
Sammy raised an eyebrow.
The Dursleys had never allowed this before; their general wish of keeping Harry as miserable as possible, coupled with their fear of his powers, had led them to lock his school trunk in the cupboard under the stairs every summer prior to this.
Severus raised an eyebrow, "Is this why all of your homework was abysmal while you're school work rivaled Miss. Grangers?" Sammy blushed but nodded as Ron gaped, he had no idea Sammy actually did well in classes.
"So you take after Severus do you? I was bloody horrible in school. The only thing I was good in was Transfiguration...other than that I skived." Sirius admitted with a shrug.
But their attitude had changed since they had found out that Harry had a dangerous murderer for a godfather - for Harry had conveniently forgotten to tell them that Sirius was innocent.
Sirius laughed a full bellied laugh as Severus raised an eyebrow at his husband, "That's all you, Siri." Sammy smiled, he was glad to have something in common with his Dads.
Harry had received two letters from Sirius since he had been back at Privet Drive. Both had been delivered, not by owls (as was usual with wizards), but by large, brightly colored tropical birds.
"Of course." Severus said rolling his eyes.
Hedwig had not approved of these flashy intruders; she had been most reluctant to allow them to drink from her water tray before flying off again.
"Your owl has an attitude, Sammy." Ron said. "Gotta love Hedwig."
Harry, on the other hand, had liked them; they put him in mind of palm trees and white sand, and he hoped that, wherever Sirius was (Sirius never said, in case the letters were intercepted), he was enjoying himself.
"Most likely." Severus said. "Your Papa always had a way of making the best out of a bad situation."
Somehow, Harry found it hard to imaging Dementors surviving for long in bright sunlight, perhaps that was why Sirius had gone South. Sirius's letters, which were now hidden beneath the highly useful loose floorboards under Harry's bed, sounded cheerful, and in both of them he had reminded Harry to call on him if ever Harry needed to. Well, he needed to right now, all right…
Harry's lamp seemed to grow dimmer as the cold grey light that precedes sunrise slowly crept into the room.
Finally, when the sun had risen, when his bedroom walls had turned gold, and when sounds of movement could be heard from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's room, Harry cleared his desk of crumpled pieces of parchment and reread his finished letter.
Dear Sirius,
Thanks for your last letter. That bird was enormous; it could hardly get through my window. Things are the same as usual here. Dudley's diet isn't going too well.
My aunt found him smuggling doughnuts into his room yesterday. They told him they'd have to cut his pocket money if he keeps doing it, so he got really angry and chucked his PlayStation out of the window.
They all raised their eyebrows at the muggle objects, Sammy just mumbled a 'later' and Severus continued to read.
That's a sort of computer thing you can play games on. Bit stupid really, now he hasn't even got Mega-Mutilation Part Three to take his mind off things.
I'm okay, mainly because the Dursleys are terrified you might turn up and turn them all into bats if I ask you to.
A weird thing happened this morning, though. My scar hurt again. Last time that happened it was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts. But I don't reckon he can be anywhere near me now, can he? Do you know if curse scars sometimes hurt years afterward?
I'll send this with Hedwig when she gets back; she's off hunting at the moment. Say hello to Buckbeak for me.
Harry
Yes, thought Harry, that looked all right. There was no point putting in the dream; he didn't want it to look as though he was too worried.
"You should've put in about the dream." Sirius said with his eyebrows knit together.
Sammy smiled his eyes filled with amusement, "It hasn't happened yet, Papa." Sirius blushed while Severus looked at his son.
"Still he's right, if anything like this ever happens we expect you to tell us so we know how to help you. I can understand that you've never had anyone to rely on...but now we are a family and we care about you...so much."
"Ok, Dad." Sammy said softly. Ron just pretended that he didn't hear any of it. It was a family moment and he didn't want to interrupt.
He folded up the parchment and laid it aside on his desk, ready for when Hedwig returned. Then he got to his feet, stretched, and opened his wardrobe once more. Without glancing at his reflection he started to get dressed before going down to breakfast.
I've tried to fix the thing with the bold. That's how I originally wrote it...with J.K's work in bold...but it didn't work