CHAPTER 2
NOT SLASH. I repeat, not slash. It's father-son time, even though they're not bound that way yet. Please don't ruin my fun by misconstruing what I write.
"You give nice hugs."
I must stay out of Snape's way; I must stay out of Snape's—
"Oof!" Harry crashed into a black pillar with greasy hair.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed in concern.
"Potter," said a familiar silky voice, "five points from Gryffindor for your failure to watch where you're…"
Oh, no, Harry thought, before being sucked into another time and place.
The boy looked guilty and a little terrified as he stood at the door to his quarters. Good. The arrogant little teenaged brat definitely needed a healthy dose of fear if he had the audacity to go traipsing off with his cursed cloak and broom against clear instructions. And all this while he was being hunted by Death Eaters. Harry took a deep breath. He would not shout. He would only invent the most exquisitely uncomfortable punishments for the bane of his existence. Even the Dark Lord didn't cause him this much trouble.
Two thin arms wrapped around his torso. "I'm sorry," the boy whispered, his emerald eyes pleading. "You promised."
The boy was carefully watching him, so Harry couldn't show his anger at the manipulation. He pulled the boy closer, noticing his tremors. The child was in pain. And just like that, Harry's anger vanished. He sighed.
"I'm sorry, Severus," the boy continued. "It's just that I haven't been outside in weeks and I was feeling trapped in here and I wanted to fly. I wasn't trying to disobey, honest." He cringed under Harry's glare.
"You're grounded." The boy winced again, but said nothing. "And I shall be confiscating your cloak and broom."
"Not my broom." He might have enjoyed the boy's desperate begging if it hadn't been for the familiar eyes looking at him with so much anguish. As it was, he wanted to run from those haunting reminders of his greatest mistake and sorrow. "S-Sirius gave me that broom…" The boy looked down as if expecting a reprimand.
Harry's heart—long protected against any assault of this kind—twisted. It was fortunate, he thought faintly, that the boy had no idea of the impact those eyes had on him. He brought his lips down to the boy's forehead while cupping the back of his head, and lowered his voice to a dangerous purr. "And you believe that you deserve such consideration after breaking my trust?"
The boy shook his head, but seemed unable to speak. Harry sighed inwardly, wondering when he had gone so soft that he'd become incapable of handing out a well-deserved punishment.
"If you use the broom without supervision again," Harry murmured, "I promise the least you'll have to worry about is confinement."
The boy looked up. "Supervision?" he asked, already sounding less distressed. Whatever he saw on Harry's face made him relax and give a slow smile. "Thanks." He tucked his head under Harry's chin. Warmth blossomed in Harry's chest at the trusting gesture. It felt like he always did after successfully brewing a complex potion. He smirked in victory.
The scene changed.
There was someone trying to open his bedroom door. Harry raised himself on an elbow, still half-asleep. The intruder stumbled in and leant against a wall. When he spoke, his speech was slurred. "Can I sleep with you, Dad?"
Harry came fully awake at once. He sat up. "I am not—"he began, and then stopped. The idiot boy could barely stay on his feet. No wonder, with the amount of firewhiskey he had drunk on the sly. "Go back to your bed," he commanded, barely keeping back a string of invective.
The boy's face crumpled. He turned around and just managed to exit the room, his head hung and movements uncoordinated. The overall effect was like that of a puppet with a deranged puppeteer.
Harry lasted two minutes before he surrendered and got out of bed, muttering unflattering things about the boy invading his quarters. He entered the boy's room without making a noise, and stood next to his bed. The boy was awake, he could see, but hadn't heard him come in. Harry stood frozen for a moment at the sight of the spread-eagled figure, an irrational panic overtaking him out of the blue.
He couldn't do this. He had been too careless, too foolish, and let the boy in too far. How was he supposed to handle losing him now? For that matter, how had he allowed himself to get attached to a child in the middle of a war—the child destined to fight the Dark Lord, no less? He was not so far gone as to think he could keep the boy. The boy may have called him father in a drunken fit, but such a relationship between the two of them was ludicrous and impossible on any number of levels.
He couldn't do it—he just couldn't bear yet another loss. Lily was quite enough. He should turn around and walk away, leaving the idiot boy to his drunken nightmares. And withhold hangover potions from him in the morning, for good measure.
A hiss left his pursed lips. A sob threatened to follow, and he hurriedly stepped back to leave before that could happen. His hand hit a stack of books on the boy's trunk, and one teetered on the edge. He lunged at it, but it fell to the ground with a thud loud enough to pierce the boy's addled senses.
"Severus?"
Harry shut his eyes and ground his teeth.
"A-are you alright?"
Even drunk, the boy was caring enough to drive him insane. Harry cast about for something to say. His feet moved back towards the bed without direct orders from him. "I, uh, had thought—" What was wrong with him? He never stuttered!
The boy's face suddenly turned nauseatingly understanding. "Did you… have a nightmare?"
What? Oh, no. He could not let the boy think he had come to him for comfort. He opened his mouth to spit out a denial. A hand on his arm made him look down in surprise. Even Dumbledore did not dare, or want, to initiate physical contact with the dour Potions Master of the dungeons, and it still startled him when this upstart, skinny teen did so. The boy tugged on his arm. It took a shamefully long time for Harry to understand what the boy wanted. He recoiled.
"Harry," he said, trying to keep his voice calm and disengage himself from the boy's grasp, "it is not appropriate for me to share your bed, especially when you are in this state—"
"Da-ad," the boy pleaded, still tugging on his arm, "please."
Harry gritted his teeth. "I am not James Potter."
"Of course not, you're Severus Snape," the boy slurred, and shocked Harry enough that he slid closer when the boy pulled his arm again. The boy rested his chin on Harry's chest in what had to be an uncomfortable position, blinking tiredly up at him. "James Potter died… protecting me, and now you've taken over… the job for Mum." He pulled at Harry again. This time he sat down, moving as though in a dream, and pulled the blankets over them. The boy settled his head on Harry's chest.
"You give nice hugs, Sev," he said abruptly.
Harry had no idea what to say to this, so he simply put his arms around the child.
"Can I have a Babbling Beverage?" Apparently the boy's moment of pseudo-sobriety was over.
"Why, don't you think you're babbling enough already?"
The boy giggled. "Not for me, Sev. For you."
That little—Harry looked down, furious, and then stopped at the sight of the boy nuzzling into his shoulder like a cat. Amusement overtook him without warning. "You shouldn't tell people beforehand that you're planning to tamper with their food, you know," he murmured. "What an extraordinary grasp of strategy you have, child." The boy hummed sleepily. It sounded as though he was agreeing with Harry, and he laughed involuntarily.
"You don't talk enough," the boy complained, waking up a little and pouting. "I mean, the Dursleys don't talk to me either, but you're better than them…"
"Why, thank you," Harry said sourly.
The boy wasn't listening. "And I like to hear you talking. You have a nice voice. Like silk. Or a breeze. It's sssooo sssoft and sooooothing." What was the boy on about? "Even when you're angry, your voice is soft. Why's that, Sev?"
Laughter welled up in his chest again, and he had to fight it down like he hadn't in years. Was the boy's drunken state affecting him, too? "…It scares people more."
"That's mean, Sev."
Yes, Lily, I know, Harry thought, leaning back and closing his eyes.
"Harry!"
"Come on, Harry, snap out of it!"
He was back in the corridor, Ron and Hermione bending over him. Ron had his hands on Harry's shoulders and was shaking him. Hermione stood next to him looking almost teary with panic. Snape was nowhere to be seen. He twisted away from Ron's grasp and picked up the bag he had dropped, oblivious to his friends' frantic questions. His heart pounded. Snape's quarters. He'd been to Snape's quarters in this vision. He'd been teenaged, not five. He'd mentioned Sirius again. And the Firebolt.
"I'm going to Dumbledore," he said out loud. The number of visions was increasing, and that didn't seem reassuring.
"Oh, good!" Hermione said in relief.
Harry wasn't half as pleased. The last time he'd seen Dumbledore, he'd heard the prophecy (which he still hadn't worked up the nerve to tell his friends) and wrecked the man's office. The idea of seeking him out now made him distinctly uncomfortable. However, there was nothing for it but to head towards the corridor below the Headmaster's office. His friends insisted on waiting there for him.
He stopped outside Dumbledore's door and knocked. The door flew open and Snape stepped out, the perpetual sour look on his face. Harry braced himself for another vision, but nothing happened. Snape stepped around Harry and into the revolving staircase. Harry was sure he hadn't imagined the ugly look that had crossed Snape's face when he'd glanced his way. It made him feel relieved. At least something was normal today.
"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore greeted him cheerily when he'd stepped inside. Harry wondered how the office could still be this cluttered after the number of things he'd destroyed. "What brings you here this early in the year?"
"I'm having visions again, Professor," Harry blurted without so much as a hello, he was so rattled. Dumbledore didn't seem to mind. "And I'm not seeing through Voldemort's eyes anymore. I'm seeing through… Professor Snape's." It was slightly reassuring that Dumbledore was looking thoughtful instead of disbelieving. Not that he'd thought Dumbledore wouldn't believe him, but still.
"Do you believe it could be Voldemort, still?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry was taken aback. He hadn't expected to be asked for his own opinion. "Could he send me visions without making my scar burn?" he asked, instead of answering directly.
"It is possible, though not very likely." Dumbledore looked old and tired, Harry thought, feeling unsettled. "I had hoped that Voldemort would not dare to enter your mind again, after the ordeal he suffered the last time he tried to do so. These visions, however… Could you tell me the nature of these visions, Harry?"
That was the very question he'd been dreading. "Erm," Harry said. Heat crept up his neck. "In some of them, I'm just a five year old; in others, I'm my real age." Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. Harry hastened to explain. "Yeah, in all of them, I'm seeing myself through Snape's eyes."
"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore corrected. He motioned to Harry to continue.
"Nothing much really happens," Harry said. "Professor Snape acts like he's my father or something. And in the visions, I act like I'm okay pretending that too. If it really is Voldemort, what's he trying to do?" The last bit came out rushed as Harry grew agitated.
"We cannot know, Harry," Dumbledore said, after a long pause. Harry couldn't tell if he was worried or not. "What is more certain is that these visions are unsettling you. I know you will not want to hear this, Harry, but Occlumency would go a long way towards keeping them away."
"Professor," Harry said slowly, "these visions seem to have something to do with Snape. Just now it was after I bumped into him, and before that it was in the Hall, when he was looking at me. And why would I be seeing through his eyes all of a sudden?"
Dumbledore looked tired again. "Harry, we've talked about this before. Severus is not your enemy as far as the war is concerned. I shall leave it to you to decide whether to approach Professor Snape for Occlumency lessons, but I strongly advise you to do so. I will have a word with Severus, as well."
The interview was clearly over, so Harry said goodbye and left, feeling disappointed and dissatisfied. He couldn't help but think that something was being kept from him again.
