A/N: Wow! More fantastic responses! You guys are amazing! So, for your patience, here is another chapter! And, for those of you reading The Tension and The Spark, I assure you, I will update soon. Uni has just been hectic, as I'd expected. Give me another week or two, and the next chapter will be up then. In the mean time, Happy Reading!
Harry blinked. "I'm sorry?"
Severus was also in a state of shock. He hadn't meant to be so...there was no other word for it...familiar. But the damage was done. And, he supposed, it would make associating with the boy (and his secrets) that little bit easier.
He swallowed (not used to being so bloody nice), hoping the younger wizard wouldn't notice his hesitation, and rolled his eyes. "I said," he began, sounding as if it were a chore, "That my name is Severus. Yours is Harry, is it not?" The boy's name felt odd to his tongue, but he refused to let that on.
The Gryffindor nodded slowly, his body tingling at the sound of the Potions Master speaking his name. He felt privileged to have been asked to reciprocate the favour. After all, he didn't know of many people that were allowed to call Snape by his given name. It seemed that he really was becoming friends with his Professor, and the thought made him smile.
"Thank you, Sir...Severus." He felt himself blush. "And I'm sorry you had to witness this..." He gestured between himself and the toilet. "But thank you for helping me..."
Severus nodded, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. He didn't particularly like this meek, constantly apologetic Potter. Though he supposed it was a welcome change to the obnoxious version he thought he'd known so well. "Are your...symptoms...always this violent?" He eventually found himself asking.
Harry shrugged as he stood up to brush his teeth. "Not really...It jumps around a bit...M'me Pomfrey says its nothing to worry about...That male pregnancies are prone to stronger symptoms because our bodies aren't built to handle it..."
"Indeed..." The older wizard replied, once again at a loss for words.
"That was the worst it's been, though..." The Gryffindor continued to babble, the blush returning to his cheeks. "I...I'm glad I wasn't alone for it..."
Yes, Severus mused, I suppose it would be rather trying to go through such an ordeal without one's partner, or at least one's friends.
This, of course, piqued the Slytherin's curiosity further, so he decided to pry a little. "I imagine such an experience would be difficult to handle on one's own."
Harry sighed dejectedly. "I was The-Boy-Who-Lived, though, wasn't I? So I should be able to cope."
He didn't sound too convincing.
"Your… partner… didn't take well to the news?" Snape sounded vaguely surprised.
Harry managed a weak smile, and shook his head. "That..." He paused to consider his phrasing. "It's complicated..."
Alright, now Severus was more than curious. Now he needed to get to the bottom of things. He quirked an eyebrow. "Care to explain, Harry?"
The boy was internally panicking. "I don't want to waste your time with my whinging..." He hoped he sounded nonchalant.
Severus conjured a glass of water and extended it towards the boy, shaking his head. "Need I remind you of my earlier promise?" He asked, referring to the incident at the opening of the holidays. "If an issue is distressing you, I am willing to listen, and perhaps offer my counsel, if it is of any assistance."
Tears welled in Harry's eyes. Snape, no; Severus, was being so kind...After all he'd done and all he'd said, Harry knew he didn't deserve such treatment. Not when he was harbouring such a deep, painful secret from the man.
He took a sip of water, hoping to still the onslaught of tears before they bubbled over, and looked to the floor. His throat burned. "The other father..." he began, sounding choked, "He...doesn't exactly know yet..."
"Indeed?" The potions master cocked his head to the side, letting his curiosity show.
The blush tinted Harry's face once more.
"I mean...he knows I'm...expecting..." He didn't know why, but at that moment, the word 'pregnant' was too hard to say, "But he's got no reason to think it's his..."
By now the men had wandered back into the bedroom, and Harry dropped onto the edge of the bed, allowing his head to fall into his hands. "I...he doesn't deserve to have this thrust upon him..." A lone tear trickled down his cheek, and he scowled at his own display of weakness. "It's all my fault!" He howled.
Setting aside his surprise at Potter's admission that the other father had no reason to suspect his connection to the unborn child (Could there be more than one candidate?), the older man frowned.
"Now see here, Potter," Snape interrupted, glowering over his student. "It takes two to tango, as the Muggles say. One person alone –no matter how powerful their magic- cannot create a child. Therefore it is not your responsibility alone, nor is it fair for you to experience it without support. Besides," he sniffed, somewhat haughtily, "The other parent has the right to know."
"It's...a bit more complicated than that, though..." The-Boy-Who-Lived found his voice. He sighed. "I appreciate your concern, really I do, but...believe me when I say that this really is all my fault. And I wouldn't be surprised if the father of my child hates me once he finds out."
Perhaps he should take the opportunity to tell Snape right then and there, while he had the chance. He didn't want to, not now that he and the Slytherin were actually on friendly terms. But it wasn't fair of him to continue lying directly to the man's face.
"I do not know all the details, Harry, but if he is a compassionate soul, he will not turn his own child away, no matter what the circumstances behind its conception are."
Harry was so consumed by his woes that he completely missed the potions master's wistful tone.
"I hope so..." He murmured, eyes glued to the floor, his hand rubbing tiny circles on his stomach. "For his, or her, sake."
Snape straightened himself, and looked down his nose at the moping teenager. Folding his arms over his chest, he uttered one word.
"Indeed."
-?-
"Hurry it up, Potter," Severus found himself hissing a few days later, "We haven't got all day."
"Well, technically..." Harry began, grinning wickedly, "We do."
The older man scowled, "Don't try me today, Harry," he warned. The younger man's name fell from his lips with more ease than it originally had, and (though he'd never admit it) he was actually beginning to warm to the boy.
The Gryffindor frowned. "Sorry, Severus. Didn't realise you were in Greasy Git mode again." His eyes gleamed with mischief.
"And I didn't realise," Severus sneered in response, "That you had regressed into an irritating 13 year old."
"I wasn't aware that I'd become much else in your eyes to begin with." Harry poked his tongue out, feeling decidedly childish.
Damn hormones.
Speaking of which, Hermione had yet to reply to his letter. In fact, he hadn't heard from any of his friends. Not even the Weasley twins, who had, up until these holidays, at least continued to send him updates on their business, referring to him as their invisible partner.
On thinking of his friends, a wave of sadness swept over him. Perhaps they really had wiped him from their thoughts. He hated not knowing how they were and what they were doing. He missed them terribly.
Severus noticed the change in Harry's demeanour almost immediately.
"Potter?" He asked tentatively. "Harry?" He gently placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder, hoping to bring him out of his reverie. "Are you feeling alright?"
The-Boy-Who-Lived swallowed, and struggled to meet the older man's eyes. "Yeah, I'm right. Just...thinking." He mustered a watery smile. "Blasted hormones."
Severus wasn't utterly convinced, but let the matter drop. With a frown that didn't quite disguise the concern in his eyes, he asked, "If you are done wallowing, are you quite ready to honour Madame Pomfrey with your presence?"
Despite himself, Harry smiled. The Potions Master had been thoughtful enough to arrange a checkup with the Mediwitch through the headmaster. To cover his growing concern for Harry's health, however, he'd argued that it was merely practical, as he had to compile and complete his annual inventory analysis, and it was easier for Harry to visit the Mediwitch then, rather than disrupt Severus' schedule later on.
But, on some level, it warmed Harry's heart to think that Snape had been so thoughtful towards his needs.
"Ready as I'll ever be." The green eyed young man replied, his mood quickly brightening.
"Good." Snape nodded, extending his arm. "We will be apparating to Hogsmeade, where a carriage awaits to take us to the castle."
"Oh, alright..." Harry took the proffered hand nervously, and gasped as Severus pulled him flush against his chest.
Snape pretended not to notice the sound. He wasn't quite ready to acknowledge what it might mean.
"Close your eyes, and clear your mind of all thoughts." He instructed, mentally reminding himself that the younger wizard did know the process of aparration, despite the fact that he hadn't yet had the opportunity to gain his license.
He pushed the thought aside, not wanting to risk splinching.
Within moments they were in Hogsmeade, and, when certain the boy was steady on his feet, Snape released him unceremoniously.
"Come along, Potter," The older wizard snapped, keeping up appearances in public. After all, it wouldn't do to be seen being friendly with the boy; especially by another student. Merlin only knew how fast the rumour mill worked at Hogwarts, and neither he nor Harry needed (nor wanted) more gossip concerning themselves circulating.
They approached the thestral-drawn carriage in silence, each man lost in his own thoughts.
Harry, once seated, placed his hand over his abdomen, and stared out the window. He wasn't paying attention to the scenery as it flew past the window. No; instead he was deep in thought, wondering about his child.
Would the Mediwitch be able to tell him of its gender? What would he or she look like when they eventually arrived? Which traits would they inherit from him, and which from Severus?
All these questions -and many more- filled his head, and he wondered, idly, whether Severus would be just as curious, if he were to know the truth. Or would he see it as just another blunder from Harry Potter? Just one more nuisance to deal with. One more reason to hate the Gryffindor.
Harry sighed.
What kind of life was he setting his little one up for? He knew barely anything about parenting, having merely watched other children's families from a distance. And, though the Weasleys had taken him under their wing, the relationship hadn't been the same as it would have been, had he grown up with his very own parents.
How, exactly, was he to act around his child? How would he teach them? What would he teach them? How would he discipline them?
It was so overwhelming.
"Mr. Potter," Snape found himself repeating, his frustration growing. The boy had been daydreaming for too bloody long! They'd been stopped outside the castle for at least five minutes already. He reached out and shook the boy lightly. "Harry, we've arrived."
The-Boy-Who-Lived appeared dazed for a second, before he reminded himself as to where they were and why.
"Oh," he replied sheepishly, "Sorry, I...was thinking."
"Clearly. And, while I wish you would practice that more often, you have an appointment, and I have matters to attend to." The Slytherin gracefully leapt out of the carriage, and -upon checking that they were alone- offered his hand to the other, which Harry gratefully took.
Snape helped the boy down the carriage's steps, before ushering him into the school. "I will accompany you to the hospital wing," he told his charge, "as I need to ask Poppy which potions and supplies she needs replenished."
Harry nodded, and walked beside the potions master, attempting to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.
If only Severus was accompanying him out of interest for their child.
-?-
"Ah, Harry, come in! Come in!" Poppy had obviously been waiting for him. She smiled warmly as he approached, Severus a few steps behind.
Her eyes gleamed when she noticed the older man.
"And Severus! What a pleasant surprise!"
The Slytherin was vaguely confused by her behaviour, but put it down to the simple fact that the woman was, and always would be, a complete, raving lunatic. He nodded at her. "Poppy. I trust we find you well?"
She grinned, and nodded. "What good I be if I weren't?" She chuckled, reminding Harry of a clucking hen. "Afterall, who would trust an ill Mediwitch?"
Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes. She'd been using that extraordinarily lame joke for what felt like eons. However, before he could move onto business, she continued to babble.
"But, I must say, I am very pleased with you taking an interest in the baby's welfare like this. I imagined that, once Harry had told you, you'd want to avoid him and the child as much as possible, but, oh, how you've proved me wrong!"
Harry's eyes were the size of saucers. Pomfrey thought that he'd confessed! Oh, Merlin, he had to stop her before she gave too much away…but how?
Poppy was still blathering. "Tell me, Severus, what names do you prefer? Not all that long, really, 'til he or she arrives, you know! I should be able to let Harry know the gender within a month or so…"
Harry was attempting to gain her attention, without catching Severus'.
It wasn't working.
Snape, meanwhile, was gradually plotting his escape. What in Merlin's name was the blasted woman rabbiting on about? And why on earth did she think he actually cared?
He cleared his throat, and settled her with a sharp glare. "What are you blathering about, woman?" He asked, choosing to cut to the chase, and voice his confusion. "I merely accompanied young Mr. Potter to the infirmary as he is my charge for the holidays, and I believed you had a list of potions and supplies that needed replenishment."
Somehow, Harry knew he was going to get roused at by one staff member or the other.
"Oh…of course…" Poppy managed, upon the realisation that Harry had not yet told Severus of his polyjuice mishap. She covered her slip with a sheepish laugh. "Oh, don't mind me, Severus…I'm just rather excited for young Harry here…" She turned and pinched the young man's cheek just a tad too hard for his liking. Forcing a grin, she added, "I've always had a weakness for infants…I tend to get a little carried away…" Shooting Harry a fastidious look, she turned back to the Potions Master. "I've got the list in my office…Bear with me for one moment…"
She turned quickly on her heel, and left the two men alone in uncomfortable silence.
Severus, for his part, couldn't help but feel slightly sympathetic towards Potter, if this was the way the Mediwitch was to carry on for the duration of his pregnancy.
-?-
Three hours later found the potions master staring at the parchment in front of him. Overall his inventory was just as he'd expected it to be. There were a couple of discrepancies –a few numbing draughts, various potions ingredients, and a bottle of his personally patented, and incredibly potent, Advancement Serum were missing- but all in all it had been a good year. Every other year his stocks had been remarkably out of count, but this year everything seemed to be in order.
Perhaps the extra wards on his supply and potions cabinets had been part of the reason for the drop in the rate of theft.
Well, that and the Weasley twins had left school the year before.
Nevertheless, it was a good result, and he was pleased.
He met Potter in the library, as they had previously arranged. The boy was halfheartedly leafing through a number of pamphlets on pregnancy, and hadn't noticed the Professor's arrival. Snape ducked behind the nearest bookshelf, content to simply observe the younger wizard.
He'd maintain that it wasn't spying. No, he was merely reluctant to disturb his charge.
Or, at least, he'd tell himself that.
With a low moan, Harry tossed aside the last of the pamphlets, wishing whole-heartedly that he could set them on fire, before dropping his head into his hands.
His appointment had started terribly and gone downhill from there.
Madame Pomfrey had not been pleased with him, to say the least. Even less so, as she was still reeling from her embarrassing display. So, after giving him a good talking to, she gave him the silent treatment, and wasn't particularly gentle with a few of her metal implements, many of which Harry could have sworn she deliberately placed cooling charms on to add to his discomfort!
He wondered, idly, whether he could request another Mediwitch for the duration of his pregnancy, but knew that nobody would honour that particular request. Especially not once the truth came out.
He attempted to swallow the lump that had lodged itself in his throat.
Why did his life have to be so damn complicated?
"Hoo."
Harry raised his eyes slowly, to see where the sound had come from. When nothing proved to be the source of the sound, he sighed.
And now he was hearing things. Just bloody brilliant.
"Hoo."
Something attacked his foot.
"Hoo Hoo."
He glanced down in surprise, to find an ordinary barn owl nipping at his shoelaces. He hadn't seen the bird fly in, but then; he'd been a bit preoccupied.
At least he wasn't losing his mind.
"Hello there," He addressed it, bending down to pick it up. Placing it on the table in front of him, he untied the parchment from its leg. "Thank you."
It stared at him, and he thought wistfully of Hedwig, who had disappeared several weeks before the final battle.
"I'm sorry…I haven't anything to give you…" He showed the owl his empty hands. "But I do know that if you go to the owlery you'll find all sorts of scraps and things."
The bird gave him a sceptical look, but flew off anyway.
Harry turned his attention to the letter in front of him.
It was, he discovered, from Hermione.
His heart rate increased. Should he open it here, or wait until he was safely hidden away in his room at Severus'? After all, it could say any number of things, and he didn't want to risk the potions master finding him in a distressed state, as was highly possible, considering his recent mood swings.
He tucked the scroll away into his cloak, and set about picking up his pamphlets.
Severus decided that he'd seen all he needed to. He waited until Harry had turned away to retrieve a miscreant medi-pamphlet, and then made his entrance.
"All set to leave, Potter?" He asked, revelling, only slightly, at the boy's startled state.
Harry spun back around, his hand over his heart. "Don't. Do. That." He hissed, glaring back at the older wizard.
"My apologies," Snape replied silkily, "I didn't think The-Boy-Who-Lived would be so tense."
Green eyes drilled angry holes into mirthful obsidian orbs. "Why are you so bloody happy?"
Snape merely smirked in response.
"Come, Potter, I do believe it is time for lunch."
-?-
Harry sat alone in his room that night, anxiously observing the scroll in front of him. He hadn't yet opened the letter, afraid that it might confirm his worst fears.
"Is Mr. Harry Potter wanting anything from the kitchens?" Kreeper, the house elf, asked, bringing him out of his worried musings.
He offered the elf a small smile. "No thanks, Kreeper. I'll call if I do, alright?"
The elf glowered, eerily reminding him of Snape, before nodding. "That will be being okay, Mr. Harry Potter." He said, before disappearing with a pop.
His thoughts turned back to the letter in front of him, and he gathered his wits about him. Taking a deep breath, he unravelled the scroll.
Hermione's neat writing made him smile, though he had yet to read the words. It reminded him of hours curled up in front of a fire, studying her carefully written notes from class. He sniffed the paper, and was pleased to catch her perfume's scent. It warmed his insides.
'Harry,'
The letter began, and he lost his smile. There was no 'My Harry'. No 'Dearest Harry'. Just 'Harry'. He swallowed.
'I received your letter. And, while I do understand the pressures of hormones (I experience something similar every month), I'm still hurting from some of the things you said. I know that you feel terrible, Harry, but that doesn't change anything that happened. It doesn't take it back, or make it all better. I still love you, Harry; you should know that. But I'm not sure I'm ready to forgive you just yet.
I realise that I'm being selfish, but I just need time to heal. If you truly regret what happened, you'll grant me that much.
I hope that all is going well for you, and that you are both safe and well.
Regards,
Hermione.'
Harry placed the letter aside, feeling awkwardly numb. At least she didn't hate him. But she wasn't exactly his best friend anymore, either. In time, they'd rebuild their relationship, but now he felt empty. Emptier than he had earlier, before he'd read the letter.
It made them seem so distanced from one another.
Which, he supposed, they were.
He sighed, and summoned a quill and parchment, deciding that he should reply, if only to let her know that he had received her letter.
Placing the tip to the paper, he froze.
What should he write? Should he be just as formal? Or should he spill out his heart to her, telling her of all the recent developments? Wouldn't the latter prove that he wanted her to know everything? That he needed her input? Or would it make him look as though he didn't pay any attention to her wishes?
A knock at his door brought him out of his reverie. "It's open."
Severus entered and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Potter…" He sighed, internally cursing himself for what he was about to do. Though, technically it was Kreeper's fault. "Harry…" The boy turned to look at him expectantly. Damn that blasted elf. He had the mind the give the bloody thing clothes! "What, exactly, happened last semester between yourself, Weasley and the know-it-all?"
"I beg your pardon?" The Gryffindor was not impressed.
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "You've been…moping…all holidays, and it is more than obvious that it has something to do with those two. So out with it. I will not stand to have my elves distressed because our 'guest' is clearly upset." He folded his arms and stared back at the boy.
Harry scowled. "No offence, Severus…but it's my business-"
"-Not when it's effecting my elves, and thus me."
When Harry refused to budge, Snape also glared. "You are forgetting, Potter, that I am a well practiced Legilimens, and can pry into your thoughts with or without your permission."
The boy paled considerably. "Alright…alright…fine. I'll whinge about my petty problems, okay, Sir?"
The older man remained silent.
Harry sighed.
"I…well, I snapped…at Hermione at the end of term. Told her to stay out of my business and called her all sorts of names…" He looked to the floor, ashamedly. "She was only trying to help me, really…I just…I don't know…I know I should have been able to control my reaction –hormones, or no- but I…couldn't. And now…now it appears that she and Ron aren't really on speaking terms with me."
Once he'd started talking, he couldn't stop. It was as if a great weight was being lifted from his shoulders with every word he uttered.
"And I feel terrible for what I said. I miss them horribly. And I feel as if I'm going through all this alone, when I wish I could have them there to at least write to and be reassured that everything will turn out alright. But instead I'm stuck here, being a burden on you, and feeling even worse because I've done nothing to deserve your hospitality, and I'm afraid that you're not comfortable sharing your home…especially seeing as you weren't happy to know of my feelings for you in the first place and I can only imagine how uncomfortable it makes you to know that I still do-"
His mind had caught up with his mouth and he stopped himself with a mortified gasp.
"I'm sorry, Sir…Perhaps I should just go stay at the Leaky Cauldron or something? Because, really, that's more or less all I need…and I'd be out of your hair…"
"Oh, Potter…" Severus was incredibly tired. Tired of being a tyrant. Tired of instilling fear into those that might possibly care about him. Tired of watching others tiptoe around him. Tired of being seen as an uncaring prick.
He was, simply put, tired of being tired.
"You are not a burden. I requested that you be my guest." He offered the younger wizard a small smile for his surprise. "And, I will admit that the news of your…attraction…did, at first, elicit a negative reaction. But, I assure you, it was not personal. I have never trusted a soul who showed any sign of affection towards me. Whether you still harbour feelings for me, or not, does not concern me. Nevertheless, I am vaguely flattered. However, you surely know that a relationship between us, while you are still at school, would be highly illegal. Perhaps when you're older…" he trailed off, allowing the Gryffindor a miniscule glimmer of hope. "Either way, I will not allow you to spend any amount of time at the Leaky Cauldron. It is still unsafe for you, despite the fact that Voldemort is gone, even more so considering your condition. You will remain a guest here, and, though I cannot promise that I will be a suitable substitute, until your friends come around, I am willing to listen to your petty whinging, as you call it, if it means that you will cease your irritating sulking." A sly smirk crept across his features, and he felt compelled to add; "Unless, of course, you'd prefer to speak with Kreeper."
Harry sat back, shocked at the Potions Master's outburst. He was suddenly filled with so many conflicting emotions. In a way he felt glad that he'd opened up to the man, but in another he felt terrible, as he'd held back the most important (and distressing) information of all.
He didn't know whether to cry, or laugh, or both.
He'd become, essentially, an emotional train wreck, and he wasn't certain that anyone would ever be able to rescue him from himself.
Then he had an idea.
-?-
Over the next couple of weeks, Harry made sure to spend as much time as possible with the Potions Master, knowing that, when time came to return to school, he and Severus would definitely not be on speaking terms. This was certain to the Gryffindor, as by that stage he would have made his confession, and the older man would inevitably hate him, either for burdening him with a child, or for lying directly to his face for months on end, or both.
Harry was pretty certain Snape would take the latter option.
So he made the most of the remaining few weeks of the holiday getting to know the various sides of Severus Snape that he had only rarely received glimpses of.
And he had fallen head over heels in love with the man.
Which was not good.
Not when he'd resigned himself to being despised by the man for the rest of his life.
A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Snape was, unknowingly, sharing every important moment of his child's life. So far he'd supported Harry through bouts of morning sickness, many mood swings, fatigue, dizzy spells…practically every aspect of his pregnancy. Harry savoured those moments, often pretending that Severus knew the truth, and that he and Harry were together, emotionally and physically.
The Boy-Who-Lived knew it was wrong. He did. He just needed to fall back into the illusion every so often. Those were the moments he was the happiest. Those were the moments he felt he should describe to their child, should he or she ever ask about the relationship between their parents.
"Are you even listening to me, Potter?" The object of Harry's musings queried, cocking his head to the side. "Or does the carpet interest you more?"
The younger man flushed, having been caught in his reverie. "Sorry, Severus." He replied sheepishly, "What were you saying?"
The older wizard pinched the bridge of his nose, as he was prone to do when frustrated. "I was inquiring as to your preference for lunch, once we return from the infirmary."
Harry grinned. "Anything sounds good…Just nothing fishy…" He'd discovered that seafood didn't agree with his child the previous week, and the thought still disturbed him.
Snape nodded. "We'll decide on our return, then." He glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room.
They were, once again, in the library of Severus' manor. It was slowly becoming Harry's favourite room. Ignoring the pang of sadness that came with the thought, he briefly wondered what Hermione might say if she knew. She'd most likely be proud of him for pursuing academics. He quirked his lips slightly, knowing that the only reason that it was his favourite room was the stunning view from the large window.
From it he could see the grounds of the manor quite well. There were lush, green hills off in the distance, reminding him of Hogwarts; the only home he'd ever known. Closer to the manor was the lake, all sparkling and clear -Oh, how he longed to swim in it!- and then the owlery; a cute little hut, resembling Hagrid's, made of brick and straw, which he loved to watch, in order to see the various birds fly in and out, in search of mice and mail.
"Potter…" Severus' voice intruded into his thoughts for the second time that morning. "It is about time we left."
Green eyes drifted to the clock. "Oh…right."
Harry lifted himself to his feet. Though he hadn't outwardly put on any weight, he could feel himself getting heavier. And, though it sounded rather odd, he liked it.
Fastening his robe, he accepted his host's hand, and took a deep breath when he was pulled against the older man's chest.
He loved Snape's scent. It was so unique. There was a vague aroma of sandalwood, blended with other spices which combined into a distinctly musky scent that was purely Severus.
Closing his eyes, he exhaled, waiting for Severus to apparate them to Hogsmeade.
In a matter of seconds they were in the village, and he was roughly pushed away from the potions master.
It was a ritual he was getting used to, now.
And, damn it all, he lived for it. If only to be held in Severus' arms for those few seconds.
They spoke about trivial things during the carriage ride. They always did. And then it was over within minutes, and they were trekking up the myriad of stairways to inevitably end up in the infirmary.
Poppy looked at Harry, making her usual silent inquiry, and he looked to his feet, dreading her tirade. It was not to come this time, however, as Severus elected to remain by Harry's side during the check-up.
Harry's spirits soared.
Poppy Pomfrey scowled to herself.
"Now, Harry dear, we're going to run the usual tests…" She babbled, shooting him pointed looks wherever possible.
He nodded, and allowed her to continue with her business, drawing in a sharp breath when her cold (Probably charmed that way, too, spiteful woman!) hands came to land on his bare abdomen. She poked and prodded, 'hmmed' and 'ahhed', then told him everything felt as it should.
Then she suggested the wizarding version of an ultrasound, to confirm her findings.
Harry nodded, and watched in awe as she waved her wand and a three-dimensional image hovered above his stomach. Various numbers and words appeared next to the blob-like creature, but he took no notice of them. His eyes were attached to the blob. That was his baby. That was his child.
"If you look closely, you'll see the beginnings of little hands and little feet," the Mediwitch told him, observing his reaction fondly, "As you are a male, the development is a little slower than it would be in a normal female pregnancy, but all is as it should be, I assure you."
Harry's eyes sparkled as he tore his gaze from his child. "Can you tell if-"
"Not yet, child," Poppy smiled gently, "But in a few weeks, perhaps we'll be lucky enough."
Severus, too, was curious. He'd never witnessed anything like this before. He'd never had the chance. He watched the foetus with interest, observing the small hands and feet, and the beginnings of tiny facial features. A small part of him envied Potter for having the ability to experience Mother Nature (and a tad bit of magical energy) at work inside him.
A hand gripped his own, and, startled from his thoughts, he looked down into watery green eyes. "Isn't it amazing?" Harry asked him, the emerald orbs flicking between his own and the hologram, "That…it's growing inside me…It's part of me…"
An invisible smile played on his lips as he observed his young friend –for that was what they had gradually become, and it had taken him completely by surprise- and nodded. "It is vaguely remarkable, Potter," he replied softly.
He watched as guilt flickered in the boy's eyes, and it piqued his interest. But, as fast as it had been there, it disappeared, and the awe had returned to Harry's eyes.
"I'm happy you're here to see this," the young man told him, his whispered voice wavering with unshed tears.
And Severus knew it was the truth. He supposed Harry needed someone to share the excitement with, and he appeared to be the only friend the child had at the present time.
That, in itself, could not have been predicted.
Did the boy wish it were someone else clutching his hand?
Most probably.
Snape was surprised at the pang of jealousy that accompanied that thought. He shoved it aside, refusing to acknowledge what it might possibly mean. He'd never allowed anyone to invoke jealousy within him. Not since he, himself, was a 7th year student.
"And I'm happy to be here," He found himself replying, without thinking of the words. He did a double take at his admission, and found it was the truth. It alarmed him. How could one almost seventeen year old have effected him so?
He watched as the green eyes shone with happiness and pride and realised it no longer mattered.
He, Severus Snape, had made a true friend.
This was not someone who would manipulate him to do his or her dirty work. It was not someone who would physically abuse him. Nor was it someone who would take pleasure in taunting him.
It was, instead, another abused soul, searching for someone who knew what it felt like to be ostracised.
It was another broken young man in need of a friend.
And, in a stunning revelation, Snape realised that it was that fact above all others that had intrigued him about the boy to begin with. Yes, he'd been correct in assuming it was his similarity to Severus himself, but he hadn't realised how much so until that very second.
So it was, then, that the odd pair found themselves walking out of the infirmary with hundreds of thoughts on each of their minds.
They had both come to the conclusion that they needed each other, for one reason or another, and it was going to make for an interesting school year.
A/N- So, what'd ya think? I was rather pleased with this one, actually. Now we're actually getting somewhere!
PLEASE review!
Always,
Molvanian Queen-In-Exile