Warning: this chapter mentions a disturbing bit of abuse. I hope no one finds it offensive, but it is definitely disgusting. There is also a small bit of rough language.
13 Oct 1991, Sunday
Snape's intention was to go straight to the Great Hall but an odd scuffling noise followed by derisive laughter put his senses on alert. Neatly turning on his heel, he went into the corridor that led to the upper levels and the moving staircases. Up ahead, footsteps signaled the retreat of whomever had been laughing. Snape sped up his stride, not so much to catch those running away, but to discover what they were running from.
He almost tripped over her.
Hermione Granger lay at his feet. She was unconscious, bleeding from several wounds, and bruised in a number of places. One leg was awkwardly bent, and Snape didn't need a Diagnostic Spell to tell him it was broken. Even worse was the acrid stench of urine that assailed his nostrils. He cast a Scourgify Spell, focusing it upon the urine and wiping most of it away. It offended his senses, and that most definitely included his nose. Once it was gone, he knelt beside the child, and cast a Patronus.
The silvery-white doe gingerly lifted its feet, disturbed by the broken form of the young girl. Snape spoke to the doe, and sent it towards the Infirmary. It became a blur of ghostly silver before vanishing through the wall.
Snape began to cast various Diagnostic Spells so he could assess the damage. As he was provided the data via spidery runes that writ themselves in the air above Hermione, he began cataloging the various potions he would need.
"Oh my dear Merlin!" Minerva was suddenly upon her knees beside the fallen child's head, her robes and skirt of her under-dress pooling around her. "Severus! What happened?"
"It should be obvious!" he snapped angrily. Minerva only glanced at him, her hand to her lips for a moment. "Surely you don't..."
Snape looked up at the older witch and his gaze was hard as flint as he cut her off. "Now is not the time to defend your Lions, Minerva. Help me finish the diagnostic! Work on her legs," he ordered.
He went back to his work, continuing his diagnosis of the girl's head, neck, and spine. Minerva shifted and cast a Diagnostic Spell over Hermione's legs. After several minutes she asked, "I'd like to cast a Stabilising Spell on the broken leg, Severus. Is it safe to move her?"
He nodded but didn't allow Minerva to touch Hermione. Carefully he shifted the child's limbs so that her arms were straight down her side. He gently maneuvered the broken limb, glad that the girl was unconscious, or she'd be screaming with the pain. Once the limb was straight, and the bone set, Minerva cast the Stabilising Spell that would hold the break in place until it could be fixed properly by Madame Pomfrey. When that was done, Snape straightened the little girl's robes, offering her better modesty than she'd had when she had fallen.
By that time, Madame Pomfrey arrived with her black medical bag. Kneeling beside the two teachers, she assessed the situation quickly and then enlarged a stretcher from her bag and levitated the injured girl onto it. She then levitated the stretcher and the girl until they were floating in front of her.
For a brief moment her nose wrinkled, as did Minerva's as she stood. Madame Pomfrey scowled, "That isn't...?"
"It is," Snape ground out. "I vanished most of it, but her clothing received some of it."
"Find out who did this, Severus," grit out the medi-witch. He simply nodded and watched as the medi-witch took the girl away to the Infirmary.
Snape then whirled angrily upon the Head of Gryffindor House. "I do not wish to hear a word out of you, Minerva!"
"I didn't say anything!" she shot back, affronted by Snape's anger.
"You had better not," he warned. "I have no doubt that Miss Granger will be able to point out her attackers." He then reached into an inner pocket and held up a thin phial that held a yellowish fluid. "If not, trust me, I'll learn who it is." He spun sharply away, leaving the older witch to clean up the remaining mess on the flagstones.
Minerva slumped with her back against the corridor wall. Lowering her face into her hands, she began to weep silently.
Dumbledore had listened as the young man before him railed against Hermione's as of yet unknown attackers. He demanded expulsion and would not allow the Headmaster to speak. When it seemed he had worn himself out, Snape had flopped into a chair by the fireplace, Dumbledore rose from his desk.
The Headmaster touched Snape's shoulder, and was disturbed by the flinch as the younger man recoiled from his touch. Overlooking it, he moved to the opposite chair and seated himself.
"The Marauders were many things, Albus, but never did they ever... piss... on me!" Snape grit out in disgust.
"This attack will not go unpunished, my boy," Albus sighed. Quietly Minerva glided into the Headmaster's office. She did not immediately join the other two men.
"Whoever they are, Albus, they must be expelled." Snape eyed the older man. His throat was taut with anger, anger against the man seated in front of him that he could not release. Snape needed Dumbledore to act in favour of one student, not for the good of the many. If he didn't, it would destroy the last shard of affection Snape still held for the man. The trust, well, that was gone. After Snape had learned that the Headmaster had lied to him about his freedom, and that Dumbledore had somehow stolen the Potter estate, and Lily's estate, and still intended to send Harry back into an abusive situation for no good reason; no, there couldn't be trust after that.
The attackers were Gryffindors, as Snape had suspected they were but he had not told Albus. Meanwhile an old memory within the Potions Master wondered would the Headmaster favor his old House over the welfare of the injured student? Snape could cite many times in which Dumbledore had taken the side of Gryffindor over Slytherin, and wasn't Miss Granger practically an honorable Snake? It was how he viewed her, especially after this attack.
"Expulsion, Albus," Snape repeated before the older wizard could possibly deny him.
"The instigator will be expelled, Severus," agreed Albus with deep regret. He felt as though he were betraying a young student's future. He also knew, though, that he had little choice. His Potions Master was only echoing the demands from outraged parents that he would receive once the Daily Prophet heard of this mess. He supposed he ought to be thankful that Snape wasn't demanding the interference of Aurors.
"You… have proof of who did this to Miss Granger, Severus?" asked Albus uncomfortably.
"I am doing an analysis upon the urine left at the scene, and I have recorded magical signatures of all involved." Magical signatures were ghost-like impressions of witches and wizards that had performed magic. Aurors used the magical signatures to assist in tracking criminals. They also had spells to reveal most hexes, jinxes, curses, charms, and spells used in an attack. Snape, as all of the Heads of Houses, had learned these spells.
Dumbledore's mouth dropped open slightly. "I was not aware of magic having been used in this attack."
Snape sneered, "Surely you recall, Albus, that every Head of House is connected to the students of their House by each students magical signature. Magic does not require evocation..."
"Of course I know, Severus," snapped the Headmaster as he interrupted the younger wizard. "It is the magic of the Sorting into Houses so that wayward or injured students can be found."
"An imperfect magic but it helps us to know what House the attackers were in." Snape's featured sported a thin, smug smile that reflected his distaste. He then turned slightly in his chair to look upon the Deputy Headmistress. He had been aware of her quiet presence the moment she had arrived.
"There were three that attacked Miss Granger, Headmaster," stated Minerva quietly. "Ronald Weasley, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnegan."
"Minerva," aghast, the Headmaster rose from his desk and went to stand before his deputy. "You are certain?"
The witch bestowed a brittle glare upon the older man. "You mean, is Severus right in his suspicions, Albus?" her lips thinned. "There was residual magic of spells used upon the poor girl. I suggest that you review each wand of these boys to determine who cast what so that you may properly dispense punishment."
Snape could see that Hermione's blood still stained the hem of Minerva's robes. Her hands were clasped tightly together, and though some might assume the witch's shaking hands meant she was suffering shock; she was not. Ever the Gryffindor, and passionate Scotswoman, the witch wore her emotions on her sleeve. She was angry. However, her anger was no doubt at the attack but also at the Headmaster.
"I must speak to those… who did this," Albus seemed to say to neither professor. He then looked to Snape. "I require that analysis, Severus." He then looked to his deputy. "Miss Granger must confirm the identity of her attackers."
There was silence. Albus retreated to the sanctity of his desk, Snape quietly rose from his chair, and Minerva just turned and left.
"I will not be teaching my classes tomorrow," Snape stated to his employer.
Albus nodded, his gaze upon the flames in the fireplace. "I can take them," he agreed with his head bent over the paperwork that was ever-present.
Snape nodded curtly and left the Headmaster's office.
The Potions Master arrived fifteen minutes later in the Infirmary and was not at all surprised to find two of his Snakes beside Hermione's bed after curfew. He didn't chase Draco or Harry away, but Summoned a third chair and sat on the other side of the bed. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, tiredly.
"Sir?" Harry spoke softly. His fingers were threaded through the fingers of one of Hermione's hands. Draco sat at her head, curling his finger through one of the many spiral curls that made up her bushy hair.
"Yes, Harry?" Snape acknowledged the boy wearily.
"Will Hermione get re-Sorted now?" Harry asked worriedly.
He nodded. "She will." He didn't elaborate upon the possibility that the Malfoys might bring a suit against Minerva for holding up the petition for re-Sorting, or for the fact that she ignored the girl's plight that led to this viciousness.
Snape cradled his head in his hands. He was conflicted. He really didn't wish to see Minerva dismissed from Hogwarts. As a colleague, he had gained respect for the woman, but always they clashed when it came to guiding the children in their Houses.
The teaching staff at Hogwarts had always been more than teachers. Such was the way it should be, for a boarding school. They were mentors, confidants, the judge in conflicts, the soothers of hurt feelings in addition to being advisors in regards to their students futures. Snape felt very strongly that it was his job as a teacher to know what his Snakes were about, and what they were capable of. He was the only teacher that met with the parents of his Snakes on a regular basis (in many cases this was for his own survival, as many parents of his Snakes had been sympathisers of Voldemort). He was the only Head of House that insisted upon enforcing an old rule of Hogwarts that called for physicals on all students at the beginning of each term. Although he was keeping an eye out for abuse, it also helped him to know if his Snakes were susceptible to any childhood diseases, or had health conditions he needed to be aware of.
Filius Flitwick and Pomona Sprout, both parents, and grandparents, were good Heads of Houses because they kept a close relationship with their students, as Snape did with his. They were of a gentler mien (Pomona invariably hugged everyone – and sometimes that included a very unyielding Head of Slytherin!). Of course it was Snape who was often accused of favouring his Snakes, but no one ever seemed to mention that Flitwick favoured his Ravens, and Sprout favoured her Badgers.
Arguably, the two worst groups of students at Hogwarts were Slytherin and Gryffindor. Snape wouldn't deny this about his Snakes. He well knew that they could be a crafty, sneaky bunch, if one allowed it. He did not. He preferred to hone and polish the nobler attributes of his Snakes. Although, as a Slytherin, his Snakes didn't quite realise, at first, how clever their Head of House truly was.
Gryffindor had always been a wild and gregarious House from the moment Snape had come to Hogwarts, first as a student, then, as a teacher. They were, frankly, a House of heroes and any reasonable thinker knew that if you tried to lead a battle with 100 generals, you'd lose. Miserably. After the battle, the surviving generals would be arguing strategy for the next 1,000 years!
The students in Gryffindor were no less loyal to their own than any other House was. Unfortunately, such loyalty came at the price of pranks upon their own, passionate arguments and disagreements, jealousy, and fights. Adventure was the watchword for Gryffindor, in Snape's opinion. They were always seeking some sort of mischief to get into, usually found it, and never seemed to mind that anyone who came 'along for the ride' got hurt. What really mattered in the end were the boasting privileges, and there was plenty of that. Gryffindors were loud and sometimes Snape wondered if they even knew the meaning of the word 'quiet'. Especially in the Great Hall. If there was something to cheer about, or even to revile, you could count on Gryffindor House to make the most noise.
Snape also knew that being a Deputy Headmistress only added to Minerva's duties because he often volunteered to help her to sort out and complete paperwork needed when she became behind in those duties. Once too often she had complained that her age, and the three positions (teaching, Head of House, and Deputy Headmistress) were wearing her thin. She had spoken a few times to him of retiring, but she was also afraid of doing so due to the inherent loneliness that awaited her.
Once, about three years ago, Minerva had actually tried to retire as Deputy Headmistress, but Dumbledore wouldn't hear of it. After all, wasn't he almost thirty some odd years older than her and going quite strong? Renewed by a talk with Albus, and quite possibly sherbet lemons, Minerva's will to leave behind one of her duties was no longer spoken of.
Minerva, strict, yet kind of heart, had been neglecting her duty to her students for years through favouritism and out-dated childcare practices. It still caused Snape's heart a deep ache that Minerva still did not believe that her two favourite students – James Potter and Sirius Black - had been bullies. Snape didn't put Remus Lupin or Peter Pettigrew into quite the same category, for neither had ever instigated anything against him. The two boys, though, were still culpable because they had watched and had never done anything to stop the abuse.
Time and time again, Snape had warned the older witch of the trouble brewing in her own House, and she had ignored it to the detriment of another student. Whatever he felt for the old woman, he could not allow this assault on an innocent child to be swept under the rug. Something he feared might happen, with the Headmaster's blessing.
Snape lifted his head to study Harry. The small boy was seated on the edge of Hermione's bed, holding her hand and watching every breath she took. He could read in the child's body language the compassion and sorrow he felt empathetically for his friend. It amazed him that Harry had such a generous heart considering the wretches that were the relatives he'd been raised by.
And it was all on Harry's shoulders.
Saviour of the Wizarding World.
At least, that is what Dumbledore believed. As for the rest of the wizarding world? Well, they didn't know about the Prophecy. To them, Harry was a hero because he had survived the Killing Curse and, as far as the majority of the wizarding world went, he'd vanquished Voldemort. Politically, Minister Fudge would love to be in control of the Boy-Who-Lived because he would be the perfect poster boy for so many of the man's reforms and causes; a commercial asset, in other words. Snape allowed that at least Dumbledore had not permitted that to happen.
Snape believed that Harry was just a normal little boy who desperately wanted to be a normal little boy. Harry wanted to be cared for, to run and play and fly. He wished for someone he could share his accomplishments with, and someone who would be there for him when he was afraid.
The Potions Master never dreamt of having a family. At least, not after his only love and best friend, Lily, married another. There had also been his unwilling time as a Death Eater, then reluctant spy and teacher. He had become used to his solitary life, and after the death of Lily, and when the Dark Lord had been Vanquished, Snape could see no reason for changing his ways.
A future of wife and children? Hah! Never possible, reminded his cruel thoughts.
Oh yes, there had been the few times that he'd gone to tea at the Malfoys, only to discover that the invitation had been a thinly veiled attempt at matchmaking. Not always a failing of Narcissa's, but of Lucius's as well. For Lucius to be involved in such foolishness, Snape figured it was because of the old adage, 'misery loves company'.
Snape was always polite in such circumstances, but he remained adamant in regards to his bachelorhood. He had no need of children disrupting his peace and so he could live without the need of a wife.
Yet, Harry had changed that. Once Harry had been Sorted into his House, his expectations for the boy were to treat him as he did any other of his Snakes. He had not counted on the fact that from the moment he had stolen Harry away from his disgusting relatives, and saw the child's curious drawings, that he was falling under a delicately woven spell.
Harry needed an adult in his life, and Merlin forbid Snape should ever say this aloud, but he wanted a child in his life. Not just any child. Not the Boy-Who-Lived. He wanted Harry.
The little boy's amazing capacity to love was both an enigma, and an odd comfort to Snape. That Harry even had this, despite rough treatment at the hands of his aunt and uncle, was unbelievable. Sometimes, Snape could watch Harry with his friends in the Great Hall and no one but he could see that deep down the boy still carried heavy wounds from the abuse he had endured.
His nightmares, for one. His dislike in being crowded by others, or touched by adults. Except for Snape. Snape knew that Harry allowed his touch to comfort him, to support him. He did not allow that same touch from other adults. Harry was very careful, too, as to whom he gave his trust.
Snape could count on one hand those he knew for certain Harry trusted. There was himself, Madame Pomfrey (although the boy clearly disliked being examined, just as any other child did), and Draco and Hermione. The Potions Master believed that, in short time, Lucius and Narcissa would be added to that list when the boy knew the couple better.
As for the Twins Weasley and Neville Longbottom? Harry gave them his friendship but Snape doubted they had yet to earn his trust.
Tuesday, the potion Cruor mea cruor would be finished. Snape had meant to speak leisurely to Harry about the adoption and what it would mean, but he had not done so earlier. The truth was that as much as he had advocated to Lucius that he had no qualms about adopting the boy, it did unnerve him. Imagining himself in the role of father, to anyone, much less Harry Potter the son of the man he honestly had no fondness for, brought out all his insecurities.
Could he be what Harry needed? Would his temper, already notoriously short, ever become an issue? Perhaps he ought never to have another drink? Did he drink too much? And all those questions led to the one he hated to acknowledge the most; what if he were just like Tobias, his own father?
Tobias Snape had been a great deal like Harry's aunt and uncle. To this day Snape still was unable to fathom why, if Tobias had hated magic so much, had he married Snape's mother?
As a young girl, Eileen Prince had been a particularly gifted young witch. Unusually creative with Potions she had been the first witch to complete her mastery by the age of 21. By 23 she had established her own business, a small shop, Eileen's Potions, in Diagon Alley. It was during one of her rare excursions to London, a day of indulgence, that she had met Tobias Snape.
Snape's father had been ten years older than Eileen and despite being a Muggle with a rather mundane job at a factory, he enjoyed reading. Of all places to meet a woman, he had literally run into Eileen Prince in the bookstore, knocking her onto her backside and sending the pile of books they'd both been carrying to the floor. This chance meeting led to their wedding, which also led to Eileen being severed from the Prince family line because they did not care for her non-magical choice of spouse. Eileen didn't care, though. She loved Tobias.
The Potions Master knew that at some time his parents had truly loved each other, but he could not claim to ever have had first hand knowledge of their affection for each other. Snape had come late in his parents marriage when his mother was just turned 40 and his father was 50. Snape did not know, until he was much older, that his mother had suffered three miscarriages in the spring of her marriage to Tobias. A time when husband and wife both looked forward to children. A time when Tobias was still sure in his work and had not stopped Eileen from working in her Potions shop.
Snape's birth came at an awkward time, a year after the factory that Tobias had worked at nearly all his life, had closed. Eileen had had to close her shop, thus ending their line of steady income due to the fact that she had contracted a sensitivity to many of her potion ingredients during her last pregnancy. Unwilling to threaten this fourth pregnancy and thus losing any chance of ever holding any child of her own in her arms, against her husband's stern advice, she chose her unborn child against a steady income.
It was also unfortunate, and something that Snape blamed himself for years afterwards, that when he was born, Eileen Snape never quite regained the robust strength she once had.
Although Tobias never found steady work again, and found himself in the position of nursing an ailing wife, and raising a son. Tobias had tried to foster a relationship early on with his son, but the pressures of no work, Eileen's constant illnesses, took their toll. Tobias found refuge in a bottle while young Severus found refuge from his father's anger, in his books.
Snape's more rational mind easily told him that he would never and could never be like Tobias, but a deeper, more fragile part of himself worried that since Tobias was his father, a part of himself, that there was all the chance in the world that he could not only be like Tobias, but much worse.
It was then that Snape had to remind himself of all the things he had done for his Snakes during his time as a teacher. He also forced himself to remind himself of those times, when at the feet of the Dark Lord, if he were unable to discreetly aid in the escape of an innocent Muggle child, that he was swift to administer a painless mercy to the unfortunate child.
Snape was certainly no sentimental or affectionate teacher. To be blunt, he was downright scary to almost all first years. Gradually, though, the student that once feared him eventually learned to respect him. Very few students ever left Hogwarts with an absolute hatred of him.
It unnerved him to think that had he not been the one to rescue the poorly battered Harry Potter, Snape would have allowed old pain, old hatreds, and woeful pre-conceived notions to have sharply skewed his dealings with the boy. Something he was just beginning to wonder if the Headmaster had been counting on.
He had to stop his mind from indulging in these thoughts. Snape was feeling unreasonably tired after today's events and he still needed to speak to Harry about what his future held for a family.
"Gentlemen, I believe we ought to allow Miss Granger her rest. We have had a long day so far and I am certain we could all use some tea before lunch," Snape stood. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy."
Harry stood slowly but then leaned over to kiss Hermione's forehead. Draco kissed Hermione's cheek and brushed a few curls off her face. The two boys then followed their teacher to his quarters.
When they reached Snape's quarters, robes were removed, and all three went to the kitchen where they fell into the fast growing routine of making tea.
"My father taught me how to make tea but my mother taught me how to drink it," smiled Draco nostalgically. He was arranging the teacups and saucers on the tea tray.
"There's a special way to drink tea?" asked Harry incredulously. He was measuring the tea flakes from a ceramic cannister the professor had handed to him.
"Well," began Draco. "You can't slurp your tea or make rude noises. You sip but can't gulp. Women should hold the teacup while not allowing the pinky to touch the cup. Men's pinkies can touch the cup. My mother says 'one should remember that the drinking of tea is a mark of elegance… it isn't coffee.'" Draco snickered as he sneaked a peek at his Head of House who was a notorious coffee drinker.
Harry made a face of indecision. "What if I want sugar or cream in my tea?" He rather liked cream but had never asked.
"No, Harry, you can't have any of that stuff," chuckled Draco.
Snape interrupted, "Mr. Potter you can drink your tea however you wish. It is meant to relax and to give the mind a gentle pleasure." He then glanced over his shoulder at Draco. "I recall, Mr. Malfoy, that you always demanded four teaspoons of sugar in your tea."
"Professor, could I… uhm…" Harry's voice faded.
"Mr. Potter," Snape said gently, "if there is something you wish in your tea, you are most welcome to ask for it. What would you like?"
"I've never had it but I think I'd like some cream, Sir." Harry replied quietly.
"I shall request a small pitcher of cream from the kitchen, Mr. Potter. May I have the tea, please?" Harry nodded and handed over the round strainer that held the fresh chopped tea leaves he had measured into the strainer. Snape opened the lid of the teapot and lowered the tea into the steaming water. The wizard then floated the teapot onto the tray, and levitating that, all three settled into the living room.
For a long moment they all enjoyed their tea. Harry tried the cream and found he loved the taste. Draco wanted four teaspoons of sugar but Snape limited him to one. With a little grumbling under his breath he added the sugar, and was surprised that there was very little change in the taste.
Deciding it was time to speak to the boy of his plans, Snape Vanished his empty cup of tea, and began clasping his hands together in slight nervousness. Nervous? He was dreading the possible rejection! The Potions Master carefully formulated his words. When he was ready, he spoke quietly, but firmly. "Harry, I know that you have concerns about where you will live once the term is ended, and I do have a solution that I hope you will find equitable." The child's slightly puzzled look had him amending his statement. "I have found a home for you."
Harry drew in his breath, in anticipation, and held it as his attention focused upon his teacher, his Dark Man.
Snape gave the boy a small smirk. "First, Harry, would you mind breathing? It would not do if you passed out."
Harry let out the breath he was holding and laughed, a bit nervously. "Who wants me, sir?" he asked, a bit breathily.
"They better be good, sir!" Draco declared protectively.
Snape smiled at both boys. Taking his own deep breath, that he was tempted to hold but didn't, he replied, "If you would not mind, Harry, I would like to offer you a home with me."
Harry tried to tell his beating heart to slow down and shut up, but when had it ever listened to him? Never. So, despite his noisy heart, Harry smiled, a bit uncertainly, at first, because maybe his hearing was playing games with him. Had he heard his professor offering him a home?
"Me? Live with you, sir?" Harry asked hesitantly.
Draco was nearly ready to bounce out his chair with glee. He had no trouble with his hearing. After a few seconds, in which their professor had answered Harry with a nod, and his friend was still frozen in place, Draco did leap up from his chair and jumped up and down.
"Professor Snape wants you, Harry!" he enthused with a grin on his face.
Harry was aware of his exuberant friend beside him, but he couldn't take his eyes off of the Dark Man's steady gaze. "You... you want to adopt me?"
"I would like to, Harry," Snape said. His own heart was beating a staunch timpani in his chest prepared to announce to all who might be able to hear it, that he was nervous, perhaps even afraid that Harry might reject him.
Not once had Snape given thought, until now, that it might be possible that Harry didn't want to live with his Head of House. The boy might not wish for a parent who was a teacher and a strict disciplinarian. And very deep down was an old voice that hissed, 'James Potter's son would never want Sniveling Snape as a father!' That sounded a bit like Sirius Black, and inwardly Snape dropped a rock on that voice to shut it up.
"Would that be acceptable to you, Harry?" asked Snape cautiously.
Draco grabbed Harry's upper arm, and still smiling widely, hissed, "Say yes, Harry!"
Harry chuckled at his friend and pulled away. Draco could sometimes be a bit too excitable for Harry. Giving his friend a small smile, Harry then looked at his teacher and nodded. "I'd like that, sir. How...?"
"You recall the potion you have been helping me with?" Harry nodded again. "That is the Cruor mea cruor Potion. That means Blood of my Blood. It is a type of adoption that isn't done anymore, since the Ministry prefers to file parchment instead of potions." Snape gave the Ministry a slight sneer before continuing. "As there have been a few complications, and questions, regarding your Magical Guardianship in the wizarding world, it was felt that this potion would allow us to step around those complications."
Whatever those complications were, Harry didn't really care. What little he had known as family, had signed him away without hesitation. Timidly he asked, "Will it make me your son?"
"The potion works on both a biological and magical level, Harry. For all intents and purposes, you would be more than just my adopted son, you would appear to be my biological son." Although Harry was listening intently, Snape doubted that Harry was understanding all of what he said. "Due to those complications I mentioned earlier, we are not going to be able to announce that I have adopted you. It better suits our purposes that you appear as my biological son. Which will mean that you will also be my biological heir."
He was trying to make sense of all that his teacher was saying. Draco was about to interrupt, but a look from his Head of House effectively silenced him.
"Harry?" Snape asked cautiously.
In seconds Harry was firmly in his professor's embrace, his cheek pressed against the man's chest, where he could hear that the older man's heart beat as nervously as did Harry's.
"Please! Please! Yes, sir! I want to be yours!"
Breathing out a breath that he must have inadvertently been holding, Snape wrapped his arms around the child... his son.
A few minutes later, it was Draco who brought up the question of Harry's inheritance, thus proving that the boy truly was Lucius Malfoy's son.
"Harry still gets his Potter inheritance, right, Sir?" asked Draco, his brow beetled in thought.
"Not right away," Snape replied. He did not elaborate that other than Harry's vault, and an Invisibility Cloak, there was no estate to inherit.
"What do you mean, Sir?" asked Draco. Harry listened, but he was not concerned about any old money, his concern was more personal.
"You recall that I said there were complications?" Draco nodded and when Snape glanced sideways to look at Harry, he nodded too. "There are a number of people who would object to me adopting Harry. They have the power, in their selfishness, to break an adoption." Harry gripped the arms of his chair as he felt his heart plummet. His listening became more intense. "It was your father, Draco, who discovered one of the old methods of bringing an orphan into the folds of another family." Draco beamed proudly at this. His father was a very intelligent man! Glancing again towards Harry, he could see the worry and apprehension in the boy's expression.
Snape put out a hand to lay over one of Harry's white knuckled hands and he could feel the cool bloodlessness of it. Carefully he pried the fingers from the arm of the chair and enveloped those small fingers into his hand.
"As I said, the Cruor mea cruor creates both a biological and a magical bond between parent and child. If someone who is testing paternity does not know that Cruor mea cruor is involved, then there is no test, magical or otherwise, that can tell that the bond is not genuinely filial." Snape frowned at Harry's puzzlement. He sighed, "I see I need to get you a dictionary," he teased gently.
Harry smiled lightly, but it faded quickly. "Does it mean that my dad won't be my dad anymore?" he asked in worry.
This was one point in regards to the potion that made an explanation to a child awkward. The DNA of the original father would still be there, but the DNA of the living father would override that of the dead father. The tests, mostly potions, that currently existed to determine the paternity of a child, could only utilise the DNA of a living parent for comparison. If he and Harry were to drink the Cruor mea cruor, and then took a paternity test, there would only be Harry and Snape's DNA to test. The end result of the paternity test would only show that Snape was Harry's biological father. It would ignore the DNA of James Potter due to the fact that they simply did not have DNA directly from James to test.
Snape decided that the technical explanation really had no place in Harry's question, so he simply replied, "James Potter will always be your father."
That declaration eased the boy's mind considerably and he breathed a sigh of relief. Draco's brow was still furrowed with deep thought. For a moment Snape turned his attention to the pale, blonde haired boy. "What are you thinking of, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Well," he began slowly, still thinking as he spoke, "if everyone thinks that Harry is your son... his... I mean, what's going to happen to his vault at Gringotts?"
Snape glanced down at Harry and wondered at the boy's scowl. For the moment, he chose to ignore it as he explained, "Because we will not be able to disclose the adoption, Harry will be my sole heir and he will not have access to his vault."
"I don't care about that!" Harry suddenly and vehemently protested. To Snape's consternation, Harry grasped his forearm convulsively, and captured the older man's dark gaze with his own viridian scrutiny. "It's really all right," Harry breathlessly spoke. "I don't need money. I just need you."
Snape covered the hand on his forearm with his other hand and spoke sincerely, "As your... father, Mr. Potter, it will be my responsibility to provide for your needs." He saw the beginning of a protest and stopped it before it began by interjecting, "You are underage, Mr. Potter, and it is not your place to 'earn your keep'." He leaned a bit closer, but spoke in a tone that Draco could still hear. "The goblins assure me that you will have access to your vault, and to your inheritance when we are able to disclose the adoption."
"But, it doesn't matter," Harry whispered weakly.
It was Draco who saved the entire conversation by grinning and exclaiming, "You're getting a family, Harry!"
That stirred up Harry's excitement and he jumped up from his chair to give the older man, a tight hug. "When do I get to call you 'dad'?"
Snape gave the small boy a squeeze. He then ran his fingers through the boy's hair in a futile attempt to straighten the mess. "The potion will be ready on tuesday. As the Malfoy's are coming to visit Hermione, I'd like them to be our witnesses. Is there anyone you would like to witness the ritual?"
"Draco!" Harry said instantly. "What about Hermione?"
Snape nodded, "If she is awake by then, which I believe she will be, we shall include her, as well."
After escorting his two Snakes back to their dorm Snape returned to the Infirmary. This time he found Minerva sitting beside the now sleeping Gryffindor girl. Before announcing his presence he observed the older witch.
There was no sign of the hard-edged woman he knew. Minerva's age had never been more apparent than in the moment she sat beside Hermione, head bowed, shoulders drooping, and back bent in defeat. A woman who had survived a Muggle war, and two wizarding wars. Minerva was only 56 years* - a witch just settled into her middle age - but this afternoon in the dim light of the Infirmary she looked nearly 70. He also realised that Minerva was not dressed in one of her endless tartan plaids. Her robes were black with a dress of deep, dark red beneath them. The sight of the missing plaids was a bit unnerving.
"Minerva?" he asked as he stepped closer to Hermione's bed.
Minerva lifted her head and he could see by her red rimmed eyes that she had been crying. Oh, I so do not need this!
"Severus, if you wish to berate me for my negligent actions, I only ask that you not do so here. Miss Granger has only just now gone from an unconscious state into normal sleep and I do not wish her disturbed."
Snape nodded, and then motioned towards the corridor. Minerva stood and glided away from the girl's bed, moved past Snape, and out into the corridor where she was joined by the Potions Master who put up a Muffliato Spell to keep others from hearing.
"Have the three boys been confronted, yet, Minerva?" he asked stiffly.
"Albus has ordered me not to say or do anything until Miss Granger awakens." Minerva noted the thinning of the dark man's lips and the angry glitter in his deep gaze. "Severus, we must have the girl's corroboration."
"We do not need her corroboration, Minerva!" he growled. "We both detected the magical signatures, the residue of magic cast, and you, yourself, confirmed that the magical signatures belonged to those three boys. From. Your. House." His teeth ground so tightly she could see a muscle twitch in the wizard's jaw. "Minerva, does this not concern you at all that this happened? In your House under your nose?"
Minerva stiffened. "I am concerned about Miss Granger, Severus! I am distressed by this situation..."
"This was an attack, Minerva, not some bloody situation to be punished by a detention and a few points taken away!" he shouted.
Snape crossed his arms across his chest. He knew he was losing control of his emotions but it angered him to know that an adult, who should have known better and protected the children in her care, hadn't. As much as he'd felt his heart tear at the sight of the older woman as she sat beside Miss Granger, he could not find it in himself to forgive her actions.
"Why did you not see what was happening, Minerva? Are you that blind to what is going on in your own House?"
That denouncement stirred the witch and she looked up at the Potions Master with colour flushing her parchment cheeks. "I did see what was happening and I did my best to fix it!"
"You put the onus on Miss Granger's shoulders when the behavior of others was not her fault!" he broke into her personal space and shouted with accusation.
"She wasn't conforming!" Minerva shouted right back.
"Not conforming? Not conforming?" Snape's lip curled as his temper rose. He was no longer shouting but spoke in that even, accusatory tone that caused young and old to fear him. "So you want her to fall in like a good little lion, becoming like all the other girls? You want her to force herself to change, losing that bright spark of life? Her love of learning? Minerva, the girl used to drive me mad, but even I recognize her potential to do great things, perhaps, with that brilliant mind, even to change the world. And you would suppress that, just so she could make her life easier?" He was seething and his dark eyes glittered with preternatural force. "She is special. She is different," he spat. "She is being bullied by her classmates, whether you choose to see it or not, because of that difference."
Snape scowled darkly at Minerva. "I... I will admit that Potter and Black were... smart," he ground out. "But you turned a blind eye to them, and allowed them to bully me. I tried to say something to you, but you didn't believe me and it only got worse. I was in and out of the hospital wing, and then once... once, Sirius Black nearly got me killed!" He turned away for a moment, breathing heavily as the past swam up, threatening to overwhelm him. Yet, he was not finished. Slowly turning, he continued, his voice deadly, yet soft, "Luckily, Potter saved my life." Minerva was stunned and found herself pressed up against the corridor wall. She started to protest, but Snape concluded by declaring, "You allow this. Every time. I will not see it happen to Miss Granger, a girl in YOUR. OWN. HOUSE." His robes billowed behind him as he strode back into the Infirmary where he dropped into an empty chair.
Snape never heard Minerva leave the corridor.
14 Oct 1991, Monday
Hermione woke at the wee hour of four in the morning to the sound of someone gently snoring to her right. She moved her head and regretted it immediately as pain blossomed within her skull. She let out a strangled whimper.
There was a sharp sound of chair legs scraping against the floor as the snoring was cut off. A hand touched her shoulder, the warmth reassuring her.
"Do not move, child," a deep voice purred against her eardrums. Hermione sighed and resisted acknowledging the voice with a nod. "I will get you a pain potion."
The hand was gone with the sound of robes swishing gently across the floor. That's when Hermione realised her eyes were still closed. Very cautiously she opened one eye a crack and was glad to find that the light was dim. She opened the other one just as Professor Snape brought a phial to her that was slim at the top, round at the bottom. He seated himself beside her then slipped an arm under the top of her shoulders, supporting her neck and head as he tipped the phial to her lips.
"All of it now, Miss Granger," his voice was soft as brushed silk and Hermione was very glad he wasn't speaking above his normal volume.
The pain reliever was absolutely dreadful tasting, but Hermione did no more than grimace and close her eyes at the taste. She opened her eyes just as her teacher lowered her back against her pillows. She blinked as he Vanished the phial.
After a moment she asked, "Where does it go?" The pain reliever drifted like a cloud through her limbs and skull leaving behind a pleasantly gentle euphoria.
Snape returned to his chair and smirked at her question. "Are you under the impression that everything Vanished disappears into nothingness?" he asked, keeping his voice quiet.
Hermione sighed, happily. The pain reliever felt goooood. "That wouldn't really make sense, sir. It's not psycho... physic... uhm... it would be against the Law of Physics, wouldn't it?"
"I forget, Miss Granger, that you have more intelligence than the average first year." He leaned back in the chair and stretched out his legs. "To Vanish something is merely to send it to another location. Banishing an object returns the item back to its atomic elements."
"When do we get to learn that magic?" she asked.
"Miss Granger," he said in a firm tone, "as much as I would like to indulge your desire for knowledge, I need to ask for knowledge from you." Hermione winced and drew her blankets up to her chin. "I know it is unpleasant to think of what happened, but we need to know. We also need to know do you know who did this to you?"
Hermione wouldn't reply at first, but then she asked, very timidly, "What did they do to me?"
Snape began to count off the girl's injuries, "Your left leg was broken beneath the knee. You had multiple cuts on your arms and legs along with at least a dozen bruises. Your right eye is healing well from having been badly bruised, and you suffered a mild concussion."
Hermione sniffled and a tear dropped down to her pillow. Snape leaned forward, dabbed at the tear with his handkerchief, and then gave it to her. Hermione crushed the handkerchief in her hand and closed her eyes. "They did something else." More tears flowed from under the closed lids at that confession.
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. He had hoped that the final humiliation had occurred after Hermione had lost consciousness. She was all too aware, it seemed, of precisely what her attackers had done to her.
When it appeared that Hermione had gotten herself somewhat under control, he leaned forward slightly and asked, "Miss... Hermione, can you tell me who did this to you?"
The handkerchief was crushed further as her other hand picked viciously at the binding of the blanket. Tears continued to flow and Snape sighed in frustration. He moved himself back to the little girl's bed and took her hands in his. He caught her doe-eyed gaze with his and repeated his question.
"R-r-ron Weasley," she breathed, then hiccupped. "Dean Th-th-thomas and... and... Seamus F-f-f-innegan." Her hands squeezed her teachers hands very tightly as she described how the three first years had ambushed her. Ron had knocked her down, but it was Seamus who hexed her and broke her leg with the Tarantellegra Hex. Dean had actually kicked her a few times, while Ron just kept throwing insults at her and laughing.
Snape swallowed audibly in distaste as he was reminded of little Putrid Peter Pettigrew who had the laugh of a hyena and nearly danced when James or Sirius would hex or jinx him.
"When... when D-d-d-dean opened h-h-h-h... I thought he w-w-was going to... to..." Hermione gulped and closed her eyes in shame. She then began to cry in earnest, great sobs that had Snape lifting her onto his lap and drawing his cloak around her while he held the distraught child against his chest. One hand gently patted her back.
Madame Pomfrey, who received an alert that her patient had left her bed, came through her office door, but stopped when she saw that the Potions Master had an armful of weeping child. Choosing not to interfere, she slipped back into her office before Snape saw her.
After several, very long minutes, Hermione's crying eased and her throat was hitching with the last of the tears. Snape continued to comfort the girl despite the fact that he wanted to behead three little first years and put their heads on pikes in the courtyard.
"Hermione," he said as he lifted her chin with one finger. Her face was a mess of swollen, red-rimmed eyes. Taking the crumpled handkerchief from her, he did what he could to clean her face. He then vanished the linen, and spoke quietly, even though they were the only ones in the Infirmary.
"I need you to clarify for me, child, did Mr. Weasley ever touch you?"
Hermione shook her head emphatically, then whispered, "No, Sir."
"Did he, at any time try to stop Mr. Thomas or Mr. Finnegan from what they were doing?" he persisted.
First she shook her head, then nodded, then she whispered, "He was laughing, but... my leg... and he shouted at Seamus, but then he ran away when... when Dean..." her voice dropped becoming almost inaudible as she said, "...peed." Hermione hid her face against her teacher's chest and he let out a small huff of anger.
Snape left the Infirmary with Hermione asleep under the aid of a Dreamless Sleep Potion. His stride was swift and sure as he made his way to the Headmaster's tower. Upon reaching the gargoyle, he glared at it and it quickly moved aside, allowing the Potions Master access to the spiral staircase without requiring a password.
The door to Dumbledore's office swung open to admit him, and Snape was not terribly surprised to see the elder wizard in his purple and green dressing gown, at his desk, dealing with the ever-present paperwork that assailed his position at Hogwarts.
Not losing his stride, he went straight for the Headmaster's desk and thumped a slim phial filled with a silvery white, gaseous substance, in front of the man.
"Miss Granger's testimony," he stated flatly. Although Dumbledore bade him to seat himself, Snape remained standing and glared down at the older man. "Expel Finnegan and Thomas, and send Weasley home for six months."
"I must view the memory and speak to the boys first, Severus," the Headmaster said softly.
Snape's lips thinned, but he ignored what the Headmaster replied and said, "I then demand that Minerva McGonagall be suspended from her duties as Head of Gryffindor until her review before the board," Snape continued.
Dumbledore's jaw dropped. "You cannot make such a demand, my boy!" snapped the Headmaster in indignation.
Snape sneered, "Oh, but I can, sir. In fact, according to the Bylaws & Guidelines for Hogwarts Staff, it is my duty to report another colleague's neglect when her actions, or inaction, lead to the injury of another student. Madame Pomfrey is quite prepared to back up any statement I might make. In addition, it is entirely probable that the Malfoys will bring a suit against the school on behalf of Miss Granger and her parents if those three are not suitably dealt with and Minerva is not properly taken to task."
He started to leave, but stopped when he was halfway across the office. Snape turned, giving his Headmaster a very slight, smug smile, "In case you are wondering, that pensieved memory is a copy that Madame Pomfrey assisted me with. She also has Miss Granger's pensieved memory of the actual incident, should you require it." Snape spun back and strode to the door. At the door of the office, without looking at Dumbledore, he intoned darkly, "Expel Finnegan and Thomas, and send Weasley home to his mother. She'll straighten out the little reprobate and put the fear of Hecate into him!"
Dumbledore's door, which was spelled against slamming, whammed forcefully against its jamb, jarring the old wizard from his stupefaction.
14 Oct, Monday, Mid-Morning
It was late morning and Snape had met Lucius outside of Gringotts. They had a meeting with Griphook, the goblin that personally took care of Harry Potter's vault. The goblin was seated at his low desk as the long fingers of his right hand trailed down a long scroll of parchment. Looking up, he adjusted his spectacles, and then looked at another parchment to his left. Letting out a growl, he scratched at the few hairs on his head, and then Summoned, wandlessly and silently, a thick folder. He glared at Snape and Lucius before opening the folder. The two wizards turned their chairs so they were facing away from the goblin.
After nearly fifteen minutes, Griphook grunted. The goblin came round his desk and handed an official looking document to Snape who peered at it.
Snape read the heading of the document, "Power of Attorney. I am aware of this."
Lucius spoke firmly, "My lawyers tell me that the document is not a standard Power of Attorney but one written by Albus Dumbledore. We need to know if it is legal in your purview, Griphook."
"Flawlessly legal," sneered Griphook with what might have been a toothy, condescending grimace. "James Potter gave Power of Attorney to Mr. Dumbledore on July 31, 1980." The goblin seemed rather pleased by the perfection of the document.
"Would this give Dumbledore any legal rights towards their son, Harry Potter?" Snape asked, still a bit stunned that Dumbledore had managed to steal the Potter and Evans' estates legally.
"Only so far as it allowed him to place the boy with his relatives. Mr. Dumbledore has no other rights to Harry Potter." Griphook snatched at the parchment, eyed it critically, and then glared suspiciously at the two wizards. "The document shows that a temporary guardianship was enacted twelve days ago, October second." The goblin sneered at Snape, who merely smirked. "Confidential, so it appears."
"It is impossible to recover any of their estates," Snape mostly ground out to himself.
"The Potter properties were sold, confidentially. Other than the copies of Bill of Sale and Deed Transfers I have all ready provided you with," he informed them with irritation, "I cannot provide you with the owner information." Griphook, taking the document and rolling it up, returned to his chair. He leaned upon his desk with his elbows as he regarded the wizard. "Mr. Dumbledore obscured the transactions rather well."
Lucius sighed, "As you assisted him, Griphook."
Griphook's long fingers tapped against each other. He was smug as he replied, "Mr. Dumbledore did pay all the proper fees."
"Of course," Snape echoed sarcastically. At Gringotts there was always a fee.
Griphook summarily dismissed the wizards, who strode out of the bank. Once outside Snape snarled, "That is it, then. There is nothing for Harry once we go through with the adoption."
"It is a foul thing to remove a child's legacy so easily, Severus." He touched the younger man's shoulder. "Take heart. Mr. Potter… Harry, will soon be your heir. You will leave to him a very suitable legacy."
Snape nodded. "I intend to give everything to my… son… that his useless relatives never did." Glaring at anyone that dared to look at him sideways, he moved down the steps, and then Apparated.
Lucius smiled. It would be good to see the young wizard with a son. Perhaps, in time, Severus might consent to marriage!
-The Afternoon at Hogwarts-
Draco and Harry skipped lunch and made their way to the Infirmary where they found their friend sitting up in bed eating soup. Madame Pomfrey saw the two Slytherins and called for a house elf to bring the two boys something to eat with their friend.
Harry rummaged in his bag and took out a sheaf of notes that he put beside Hermione. "Me and Draco both took a bunch of notes in Charms, Transfiguration, and History of Magic, so you wouldn't miss anything," explained Harry.
Hermione put down her spoon and thumbed through the notes. She smiled at the scratch outs, ink blotches, and the fact that the notes were in no particular sort of order.
"Thank you," she said softly.
"Are you all right?" asked Draco tentatively.
Hermione nodded as she fiddled with her spoon. Harry spoke up, "Everyone's always telling me it's good to talk..." his voice faded. "We're here for you, Hermione."
The little girl dropped the spoon and grasped the hands of her friends gratefully. "I promise, I will talk... sometime... but I can't think about it now. Okay?" She gazed into Draco's grey eyes and he nodded. Hermione then looked into Harry's green eyes and he nodded solemnly. She kept her gaze on him, "It does help to talk, Harry."
Harry blushed, knowing that Hermione was right. It was just hard talking to adults. With a simple look to his friend, he promised he would try harder.
It was just after lunch that same, monday of the aftermath, when Narcissa, ever so resplendent in dusky rose satin and lavender lace, and with her glossy blonde hair dripping about her shoulders in rich, pale ringlets, swept majestically into the Infirmary and over to Hermione who was trying to sort out the notes the boys had left her. Within seconds, the girl was enveloped in a sincere embrace that also draped her in the exotic scent of rosa damascene.
The lovely woman seated herself on the side of the bed facing the girl. "I have sent an owl to your parents to let them know that Lucius and I are visiting to see how you are, Hermione. Are you feeling better?"
Hermione nodded shyly. "I am. Thank you for letting my parents know how I am. Madame Pomfrey says I'll get to leave by thursday."
Narcissa smiled softly, "Good. I'm glad to hear that, dear." Taking off her rose suede gloves, she folded them and tucked them into a small, beaded reticule. She then stretched out her hand and very lightly touched Hermione's cheek to examine the fading bruise beneath her right eye.
Hermione tried to keep her breathing steady as Narcissa proceeded to visually examine the nearly healed cuts and fading bruises. The witch then took out her wand and with a silent spell she slipped the blanket aside to reveal Hermione's healing leg. Once her exam was complete, Narcissa removed her cloak, sent it towards the clothes tree by the door, and then returned her attention to Hermione.
"Where's Mr. Malfoy, ma'am?" asked Hermione.
"Would you call me Aunt Cissy, Hermione?" asked Narcissa.
"Aunt Cissy," Hermione said with a slight blush. Hermione couldn't help feeling like she was being enchanted by a faery queen every time she was in the Malfoy matriarch's presence.
Narcissa gave the child an approving nod and then replied, "Lucius has a bit of business with the Headmaster, but he will be here directly after to come and see you." She picked up one sheet of the notes. "What are these?"
"Harry and Draco dropped those off at lunch. They took notes for me in the classes I missed," Hermione explained.
"How kind of them," Narcissa mused pleasantly. "They're good boys, aren't they?"
"They're my best friends," sighed Hermione fondly.
"As I am certain you are theirs." Narcissa then smiled brightly as she removed something from her reticule. When she enlarged it, it appeared to Hermione to be a very fancy catalogue. The witch held it out to her and she took it. "I spoke to my favourite designer, Elianne, and asked her to pick out a few gowns for you to look at for our Winter Ball."
Hermione opened the thin catalogue to see a series of models wearing different gowns that defied description. Each one was a different pastel colour of the rainbow enveloping a cloud of lace and silk and satin. She gasped and ooh'ed over each one until she finally looked up and said with deep regret in her voice, "I don't think I can afford any of these, Aunt Cissy."
"Please don't let that concern you, my dear," soothed Narcissa. "I've always wanted to dress up a pretty little girl and you're giving me that gift."
Hermione's cheeks crimsoned and she caught one of her curls in her fingers. "You think I'm pretty?"
"Of course I do, Hermione! Don't you think that you are?" Narcissa was dismayed when the child shook her head. "Oh, my dear girl, you have so much potential. Especially with those eyes of yours." Narcissa touched the girl's chin and looked deeply into Hermione's brown eyes. "Those eyes will mesmerise so many young men as you grow up, Hermione." She then caught a curl in her slim fingers. "I'll teach you a few spells and charms to tame your hair so you will be able to do anything you wish with it."
"Like yours?" asked Hermione breathlessly. She then wondered at herself. She wasn't a girl to worry about clothes, and hair, and all that girly stuff. Still, she couldn't stop herself from asking shyly, "Are there dentists in the Wizarding World that could fix my teeth."
Narcissa examined the slightly protuberant overbite. Never one to mince words, she tsked, "They are a bit more prominent than one would like, aren't they?" Hermione nodded. "We do have Dental Healers. I believe before you get any work done, though, you have a bit more growing to do." Hermione's shoulders slumped and Narcissa patted her knee. "Never you mind, my dear girl. We'll find a fine Dental Healer to make your teeth beautiful."
"I suppose I'm being silly, Aunt Cissy," began Hermione apologetically.
"A young girl is allowed silliness now and then, Hermione." Narcissa smiled secretively, "You won't be one of those vapid young girls that giggle over Witch Weekly, will you?"
Hermione shook her head. "I don't even have a subscription to it."
"Good. It's really a waste when you have a mind such as yours. It is one thing to dress up in pretty clothes to impress a young gentlemen, but if that is all that a young man desires of you, he's worthless. Any young gentleman that wishes to court you when you are older will appreciate your intelligence, Hermione, which is why Lucius and I will take great interest in your academic progress."
Narcissa gave her a stern look and Hermione nodded, happily. She always wanted to be pretty, but never at the cost of her mind. This was really the first time she'd been told she could have both!
While Narcissa and Hermione had a pleasant visit, the atmosphere in Dumbledore's office was slightly tense. In the Headmaster's office, Madame Pomfrey stood slightly in front of Lucius Malfoy as he occupied a chair near the fire while Dumbledore inexplicably chose to dote on his phoenix familiar, Fawkes. Lucius was reading through Madame Pomfrey's transcription of Hermione's injuries. He had already seen the child's copy of her pensieve testimony with Snape, and her own memory of what had happened.
As he read, a narrow spot between his jaw and ear pulsed with repressed anger. It did not help that he had come out of Hermione's memory with the desire to strangle the three hooligans that had hurt her.
A little too carefully, Lucius handed the transcript back to the medi-witch. He almost expected to see her vanish through the Floo, but it seemed she had the intention of staying. Her only move was to step, curiously, beside the Malfoy patriarch. Lucius was pleased to see that he apparently had the Hogwarts Infirmarian on his side. Inwardly, he smirked smugly. Outwardly, he gave the Headmaster his coldest patrician glare as he perched his hands upon the head of his snake-head cane. Anyone who truly knew Lucius Malfoy knew that he kept his wand within that cane. They would know that this gesture was not as relaxed as it appeared.
"Have you spoken to the perpetrators of this crime, yet, Headmaster?" asked Lucius flatly.
"You wished to speak to me so I thought it best to speak to you first, Mr. Malfoy," the Headmaster gave his bird a handful of fireseed, and then turned to face the other wizard gracefully. There was a twinkle in the older wizard's baby blue eyes that disturbed Lucius.
Lucius sneered, "I would like to be here..."
Dumbledore held up a hand, and smiled rather beatifically. "I realise you would like to be in upon the discussion, but I would rather speak to the children myself." His smile dropped into that deprecating expression that meant he would happily pat you on the head and send you on your way, and not to worry about anything.
Lucius would not be dealt with in such an insulting manner and his eyes narrowed at the old man. "Children," his tongue drifted over the word like honey barbed with bee stings. "These are not children that did this, Headmaster. Miss Granger was threatened with retribution for her loss of points to Gryffindor, and they then lay in wait for her. As you can see by Madame Pomfrey's excellent report the child had her leg broken by the force of a Tarantellegra. They proceeded to hit her, kick her, and then," he very nearly spat out, "one of those... children... had the criminal audacity to urinate upon her!"
"Criminal?" sputtered Dumbledore. "The boy is only eleven!" he declared.
"Oh, is he?" Lucius smiled sarcastically. "Eleven you say? Well, then I suppose it was merely in jest, wasn't it, Dumbledore?" His voice hardened on the Headmaster's name. Very softly he spoke, continuing in that razor sharp tone, "Are you aware, sir, that in the Muggle world there are children as young as nine that have killed other children... deliberately... with weapons as dangerous as many of the spells taught here? The Tarantellegra Jinx is not a harmless, little, prank of a spell. If enough emotional force is put into the spell, it can cause broken bones, severed spines, and even broken necks!"
Almost as if on cue, Madame Pomfrey floated an article over to the Headmaster that came from St. Mungo's that detailed an assault by a wizard upon a witch who was his neighbor that had wakened him every morning at an unacceptable hour. The wizard, in his anger, jinxed the witch with a very forceful, hateful Tarantellegra. The gyrations her body was forced into from the spell severed her neck from her spine and killed her.
Albus' face whitened from the report and he nearly missed his desk chair as he went to drop his body into it. Slowly he placed the article upon his desk. Lucius was pleased to see, as the man glanced up, that the blasted twinkle was gone from his gaze.
"I'm certain that Mr. Finnegan had not meant..." began Dumbledore.
"You saw the same pensieved memory I did, Dumbledore!" snapped Lucius with righteous anger. "You saw Finnegan's face as he cast that jinx! It was his intent to harm Miss Granger!"
In a sweeping, graceful move, the young gentleman rose to his feet and strode over to the Headmaster. With all the intimidation at his disposal, he leaned over Dumbledore and declared, "Finnegan, as you recall, clearly declared his intent by shouting, 'I'll break all your bones, Mudblood!' You have an hour to summon those boys from their classes, Dumbledore. I will be here, on Miss Granger's behalf, as you interrogate them and mete out punishment." He leaned closer and hissed, "Appropriate punishment, or I will alert the Aurors."
With that, the Malfoy patriarch, and Hermione's champion, spun away from the Headmaster's desk and strode smartly to the door of the office. He stopped, and turned slightly, "And don't think that your Head of House Gryffindor will remain blameless in this, Dumbledore!"
For the second time, an angry visitor had bypassed Albus' charms to keep his office door from slamming shut. It slammed closed, rattling nearby glass shelves and their contents.
Albus slumped over his desk with his head in his hands. A voice near the fireplace spoke up and he realised that he'd forgotten that the medi-witch was still in his office.
"I'll be filing a copy of this report of Miss Granger's injuries with WCS, Headmaster."
Dumbledore's head shot up in shock. His face reflected the betrayal he felt. "Poppy! Surely you can understand that these boys only wished..."
She cut him off. Her voice was flat, emotionless. "As you will recall, Albus, I have never been negligent in my duties when it came to the welfare of the children of this school. It was you who swept certain incidents under the rug so the paperwork never went to where they should have gone and I will no longer put up with it."
"The boys will be dealt with, Poppy! I assure you," said the Headmaster in his most persuasive tone. "There is no need to involve the WCS. After all this was, truly..."
"Don't you dare call this a schoolboy prank, Albus," Madame Pomfrey thundered. The Headmaster visibly flinched at the woman's ire. "Do you really not know what abuse is, Albus? Are you seriously that naïve?" she asked in a much softer, and very puzzled voice. She waved her report at him. "This is abuse, Albus. What Harry's relatives did to him was abuse. What James and Sirius did to Severus was abuse." Wisely, the medi-witch stopped before her accusations encompassed the Headmaster.
"You'll have them expelled, Poppy," Albus sighed, almost, but not quite pleading. "They are only eleven. To be expelled would be a permanent mark that will affect their entire futures!"
For a long moment Madame Pomfrey was silent, contemplating the report in her hands. She let out a long, suffering sigh, finally. "Perhaps not WCS... yet, Headmaster." Dumbledore smiled and his eyes were about to twinkle with a bit of triumph, but Madame Pomfrey continued, a bit more forcefully. "However, I cannot keep this from the Board of Governors. They will not hesitate in making sure the WCS gets my report since not only do those boys deserve reprimand so does Professor McGonagall."
"What?" Albus rose abruptly from his desk, banging his hip against the corner. "Are you faulting Minerva in this as well? You and she have been friends for a very long time!" He was genuinely shocked.
"Yes, we have been," she sighed, hating to have to be doing what she would be doing. "I have spoken to Minerva before about members of her House, but she is stubborn and always felt she knew best." The end of that sentence was spoken softly, nearly regretfully, and to herself. Poppy then raised her voice, using the no-nonsense tone she used upon students that were causing a disturbance in her Infirmary. "Good gracious, Albus! Didn't you hear what Mr. Malfoy stated as he left?" she gasped in frustration. "Minerva is going to be brought before the Board! They've already got my report and they will have one from Severus, too!"
"He would not do that to a friend and colleague!" declared Albus.
Madame Pomfrey huffed in irritation. "And it's likely he won't, Albus. Not as long as you're here to threaten him with Azkaban!" She took a handful of Floo powder from the mantle, threw it into the flames and shouted, a bit too loudly, her destination. In seconds she was through the green flames, and gone from the Headmaster's office.
Seconds later the glass shelf holding delicate time pieces shattered into a million pieces as the Headmaster stomped up to his private quarters.
Left alone with his master's resultant anger, Fawkes trilled softly, mournfully, in the empty office.
-Dusk-
Much later in the afternoon, as the sun was just beginning to slip quietly beneath the horizon, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy sat in two comfortable chairs beside Hermione's bed as she slept, mostly from the effects of a Pain Relieving Potion and a Calming Potion. The couple were both silent, Narcissa, her hands busy with embroidery. It was something her mother had had a witch of Lady's Etiquette teach her daughters when they were in their teens. Of the three sisters, Narcissa was the only one who found the needlework task to be meditative, and creative. Every few minutes she would look up from the coloured silk thread to look upon Lucius. In the last half hour the wizard had barely moved except to change his position in the chair as he continued to stare out of one of the tall, arched windows in one wall of the Infirmary.
Lucius' thoughts were stuck in an endless loop; reliving that afternoon in the Headmaster's office over and over again.
Lucius had given the Headmaster an hour to bring the three Gryffindor bullies to his office to hand out their punishments. Only minutes before the hour was up, Lucius thought that Dumbledore might just choose to ignore him and do things his own way.
The Malfoy patriarch knew that as powerful as his magic was, it was no match for that of Albus Dumbledore's magic. Hence, the younger wizard was smart enough to never challenge the old wizard in a duel. He'd lose, and there wouldn't be a thing left for his family to mop up!
Lucius' power lay in his knowledge of not just Wizarding Law, but he knew, intimately, every bylaw, guideline, and even helpful hints, that were the governing foundation of Hogwarts. He was also very well conversant in the Old Magic, the Elemental Magic that built Hogwarts down to each and every stone. Lastly, Lucius was very politically savvy, and had contacts nearly everywhere one could think, including many contacts in the Muggle world. Legally, politically, and perhaps historically, he was a much more powerful man than was Albus Dumbledore. It was, quite possibly, this knowledge that had the Headmaster kow-towing to the demands of the elder Malfoy, and just at a minute before the hour was up, a house elf came to fetch Lucius and take him to the Headmaster's office.
As Lucius strode into the Headmaster's office, he noticed that the large glass shelf filled with delicate time mechanisms was noticeably absent. Other than those few seconds of thought, Lucius gave no more attention to the décor in the office and turned his gaze to where Snape stood stiffly, equidistant between the Headmaster's desk and three boys with bowed heads. Madame Pomfrey was also in attendance, but she was out of the periphery of the boys standing by the Floo.
Dumbledore looked up as Lucius entered, but his trademark twinkling smile was quite absent. "Ah! Mr. Malfoy. Welcome." He then turned to the three boys and actually glanced at them over his half-moon spectacles. "Gentlemen, this is Lucius Malfoy. He is here on behalf of Miss Granger and her parents."
Dean and Seamus kept their heads bowed, but Ronald Weasley's head shot up in shock, his gaze taking in the aristocrat who had taken the chair that Albus indicated at his side, to a more neutral area that was nearly opposite of the Slytherin Head of House. He glared in puzzlement at the man that many in the wizarding world had known to be entirely against the Muggle-born.
Lucius spoke, with a touch of boredom, to the youngest Weasley, "Miss Granger is my ward, on behalf of her parents, while she resides in the wizarding world until her majority." He then raised his silvery-grey gaze and lowered it upon the redhead, daring him to open his mouth and bury himself with outrageous accusations.
Wisely, Ronald kept his mouth shut, and tore his glare away from the wizard. Instead, he bowed his head again, until Dumbledore rose from his chair, walked around his desk, and then faced the three young Gryffindors.
"Gentlemen," Dumbledore began softly, deep regret in his voice. "I am disturbed by what happened recently with Miss Granger and have brought you here in an effort to understand why this happened."
Snape glowered sharply at his employer. Madame Pomfrey shifted on her feet. Lucius simply regarded his most recent manicure.
Of the three boys, it was Dean Thomas who spat viciously, "Who cares why it happened? She deserved it!"
Dumbledore's jaw dropped, and Snape was shocked by how well the old man kept his jaw from dropping to his chest. He then lowered his most dangerous scowl upon the stupid boy that had spoken.
Before Snape could back up his scowl with words that would melt the dunderhead where he stood, the Headmaster spoke sharply, "I am severely disappointed, Mr. Thomas." His blue eyes skated over all three. "In all of you. Miss Granger, just like others in your House, lost points. That was no reason to have attacked the child!"
Snape smirked as there, in the Headmaster's eyes, was the hard edge that had made the wizard a formidable dueling opponent. There were many that often forgot that although the old man was over 120 years of age, it had done little to slow him down. His reflexes were not at all dulled by his age, and there was still reason for most Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord (should he dare to return), to fear Albus Dumbledore. In Snape's opinion he did not see this side of the Headmaster enough. So, he nearly snorted with amusement when Seamus Finnegan was so foolish to follow Dean Thomas' inane uttering with his own.
"She weren't no Gryffindor!" snapped Seamus.
"Ah! I see then, Mr. Finnegan!" Snape's voice raked over the boy. "If a child isn't perceived as a Gryffindor, then your behavior is quite acceptable!"
The sarcasm in the Potions Master's voice visibly wilted the idiot between his compatriots. Ronald Weasley hissed under his breath, "Why don't you shut up?"
"On the contrary, Mr. Weasley, I'd be very interested in knowing what your friends might have to say on their behalf," Dumbledore leaned forward, his nose practically against the young boy's nose.
Weasley's eyes widened in shock as he backed up and tripped over his own heels. No one in the office stooped to help him back to his feet, including the two boys that kept their eyes averted from their companion. When Ronald had regained his place next to Seamus, it was Lucius who finally had something to say.
Lucius rose to his feet and stepped between the Headmaster and the three boys. "I have been witness to atrocities none of you can even imagine," he began, almost conversationally as his silvery grey gaze overlooked the three boys.
All three knew that Lucius Malfoy had once been a Death Eater, but it was the youngest Weasley, who had lost two uncles to Death Eater assassination ordered by the Dark Lord, who was truly frightened by what the wizard was saying.
Lucius' settled his cold gaze upon Ronald Weasley for a long moment and the boy who tried to glare defiantly before finally swallowing nervously. "I know the men you are thinking of, young Weasley, and they did not have what you have." For a second the redhead was puzzled as to what he might have that Death Eaters wouldn't. The ex-Death Eater gave him the answer, "You have remorse for what you did to Miss Granger."
Without realising it, Ronald nodded briefly. Lucius kept his eyes upon the boy for nearly a minute before giving him a curt nod and then turning his gaze upon the other two boys. Pointing with a slim, gloved finger at Seamus, he intoned, "I see, Mr. Finnegan, that you might actually think twice before committing such an act again." When the boy nodded swiftly, Lucius then gave his entire attention to the last boy, the one who had not only kicked Hermione, but had the audacity to further her pain by humiliating her most vilely. He could see, at once, that the boy had no remorse for what he'd done. In fact, he smirked rather smugly at the elder Malfoy.
Lucius smiled thinly, knowingly, almost as though he and the young boy were companions. He slipped a comradely arm over the boy's shoulders and drew him slightly away from the other two Gryffindors. "The Dark Lord would have greatly approved of you, Mr. Thomas." The boy's smug smile faltered and Lucius tightened his grip on the boy. He whispered into the boy's ear, "This was all your idea, wasn't it?" Malfoy's voice slid seductively over the boy and Dean shuddered at the tone that had so terrified many that had had the misfortune to be brought before the Dark Lord. "Tell me, Mr. Thomas, that jumped up little Mudblood was just asking for it, wasn't she?" Lucius laughed, and even Snape felt a little frisson of fear as he saw, in that moment, the wizard that had hidden so well amongst the insane and psychotic that made up the majority of the Dark Lord's followers.
Finally, Dean Thomas shook in revulsion and tried to pull away from the patrician wizard. Lucius only dug his fingers in deeper and more painfully into the boy's shoulder. "You... liked it... didn't you, Mr. Thomas?" Despite the boy desperately trying to pull away as his head shook back and forth negatively, Lucius drove the nail into his figurative coffin by saying, "Yes, the Dark Lord would have bathed in your cruelty."
At last, and greatly terrified of the man that had held him so imprisoned, Dean yanked himself away so firmly that he tumbled to the floor and once there, he scrambled away like a crab, only to knock into Madame Pomfrey who yanked him to his feet by the collar of his robes.
"You're sick!" screamed Dean hysterically. The medi-witch still holding onto his collar, shook him. He pulled away. "You're the Death Eater! Not me! I just gave that bitch what she was askin' for! She didn't fit in, an' we didn't want her!" Dean pierced Seamus with a look. "Tell him, Seamus! You agreed with me!" Seamus' bowed head and was now studying the hem of his shirt. Dean then focused his gaze on Ronald. "You laughed, Weasley! You called her a slut, and a bitch, and..."
"Shut up!" Ronald fired back. He left their little line-up to face Dean. "I told you, no hexes! Don't touch her! It was enough to just tease her and stuff but you...!"
The youngest Weasley boy was now enraged. Ronald tackled the boy and got one solid punch in, immediately splitting Dean's lip badly. He was going for several more punches when Snape reached him and snatched him off the other boy by lifting him under his armpits. "You're the sick one!" The youngest Weasley struggled in Snape's grip. "Lemme go! It was him!" shouted Ronald. "Dean hexed her before! And he showed the girls..." he wriggled sharply, still in Snape's grip determined to reach Dean with his fists.
With a deft movement, Snape slung the wriggling boy so he was trapped beneath his hip and his arm. He then carted the boy away from Dean, who was being tended to now by Madame Pomfrey, and then firmly stood Ronald up in front of the Headmaster. Snape kept two hands on the boy's shoulders and used his body as a block so Ronald could not see Dean.
"This is your only chance to tell us the truth, Mr. Weasley," stated Snape pointedly. "Speak now and you just may prevent yourself from getting expelled!"
With wide, worried eyes, Ronald Weasley felt the dark-eyed gaze of the Potions Master boring in to his back right to his heart. When he finally scraped up enough nerve to speak, he kept his eyes upon the Headmaster. "I was mad at Hermione. She's such a know-it-all and kept lording her brain over everyone and for awhile she just wouldn't shut up about us studying and all that. Then, she started losing points and it was Seamus who said we just oughta prank her for a bit. I stole some of the candy the Twins'd been experimenting with, and we all teased her. Seamus told Lavender and Parvati what to do since Hermione's ugly..." Snape sharply jerked the boy at that insult. "N-n-not me, sir! The girls do!"
"Fine," Snape ground out. "Keep going!"
"Well, Dean, he showed Parvati..."
"SHUT UP, WEASEL!" shouted Dean from the floor. Madame Pomfrey promptly cast a Silencing Spell. Dean was still railing against his cohort, but no one could hear him.
"Thank you, Poppy," smirked Snape. He then returned his darkest glare to the boy he still held in place. "You were saying about Miss Patil?" he prompted.
"Well, Parvati doesn't know the Bat Bogey Hex, and neither do me or Seamus. My little sister does, but she's not here..." realising that he was rambling, Ronald stopped and returned to his confession, "Dean taught Parvati and Lavender the Bat Bogey Hex, the Extra-Stregth Itching Powder Hex and the Acne Hex."
"Who made the potion that turned her hair into mine?" hissed Snape.
Ronald gulped. "That wasn't us!"
Seamus piped up feebly, "I'm pants at Potions!"
Dean apparently said the same, but no one could hear him.
"All three of you are abysmal at Potions," sneered the Potions Master. "And though you may be blameless for that prank, you know who created it. So, tell me, Mr. Weasley."
For the next half hour, Ronald mournfully gave the names of everyone who had caused Hermione physical humiliation through pranks or potions. Nearly everyone in Gryffindor had a hand making the little girl's life in Gryffindor unpleasant. The adults learned that many of the Gryffindors had stopped, bored with the bullying, but that Ronald kept up the taunting insults. Seamus and Ronald firmly declared that it was Dean who had coordinated the entire ambush.
In the end, Dean was expelled permanently from Hogwarts. Seamus was to be suspended for a year, and Ronald Weasley would be suspended for two months. Halfway through his confession, the Weasley matriarch had arrived for her delinquent son. Not bothering to say anything, she waited, like a stern and avenging statue, until her youngest son was released before taking him by his ear and marching with him, howling, out of the castle and down to the gates before Apparating away.
Lucius was taken away from that scene by a gentle touch upon his shoulder from his wife. "Lucius, I am so proud of you for going against all the evil Abraxas tried to foist upon you. You bring such honour upon our name. I am pleased to be your wife."
Narcissa's husband let out a faint sigh of relief. Lucius grasped his wife's hand and lightly kissed her fingertips. He could always rely upon his love to ease away the darkness.
14 Oct 1991, The End of the Day
That evening, on this very long day, Draco ate dinner with his parents and Hermione in the Infirmary. Snape, having no wish to face any of his colleagues at the staff table in the Great Hall, invited Harry to dinner with him in his quarters.
Harry hung up his school robes on the clothes tree by the door and then dutifully checked his boots for any mud since he and Draco had taken to doing some more exploring down by the Standing Stones when each were called to dinner. Seeing that there was a bit of mud, he sat down on the floor and removed his boots. He then wrinkled his nose at his socks.
"Professor? Can I take off my socks? They stink!" yelled Harry.
Snape's head popped out from the small kitchen and he frowned. "It is unnecessary to yell, Mr. Potter. I can hear you quite clearly."
"Sorry, sir," he sighed and then wrinkled his nose, again, but towards his teacher.
"Remove them," ordered Snape. "I certainly do not wish for them to discolour my appetite!"
Harry giggled and took off his socks. He then went into the kitchen where he proceeded to the sink. He was about to wash his hands when Snape directed him out of the kitchen with a hand to his back. He pointed towards a short, shadowy hallway. "Down there, at the end, is the bathroom. Please wash your hands in there."
Harry obediently trotted into the shadowed hallway, his bare feet slapping against the stone floor.
"Wow!" Harry was impressed first by the size of Snape's bathroom.
It was open, tiled in black and white marble, and dark red cherry wood wainscoting. At the back wall of the bathroom was a slim, charmed window that revealed a now dusky sky that would be dark with sparkling stars, soon. To his right was a white porcelain tub with heavy brass claw feet. Overhead hung a shower curtain that had been pulled back to the rear of the tub. The water repellent spell treated, dark cherry red muslin cotton of the shower curtain was more of a heavy drape that pooled rather luxuriously at the end of the tub. The tub itself shone with gold fixtures.
To Harry's left was a wide counter of dark cherry wood that lined the wall and held two sinks that were deep bowls of black porcelain with gold faucets. Beside the sink nearest the door was a bar of green tea soap, a shaving brush, a pot of shaving soap and a straight razor, and then on the other side of that same sink was a smoky black glass and above it, held in a gold holder, was what Harry figured was Snape's toothbrush.
Harry smiled at the mundane items. Somehow, knowing that his teacher brushed his teeth and shaved like everyone else, tickled him.
Over each sink was an ornate mirror trimmed in gold, and neither was fortunately one of the many talking mirrors that littered the castle. Beside each sink was a narrow shelf that held washcloths and hand towels.
The last thing to be seen was the loo itself that was in a niche between the sink counter and the back wall. It was of white porcelain with a gold handle, but its lid was black porcelain.
Harry was just stunned by the luxury of the whole bathroom. It reminded him of some showcase room he might see in the women's magazines that his Aunt Petunia was always studying.
A hand upon his shoulder startled him and Harry instinctively ducked sharply away from it. "Oh! Hi, sir," Harry grinned sheepishly.
Snape did not acknowledge the flinch, feeling that in this instance it was best to ignore it. "Your feet are freezing, Mr. Potter," Snape's eyes glanced down at the still bare feet that were now standing on the tile floor of his bathroom. Snape shoved a pair of black, plushy slippers at him. "Hurry and wash your hands. The elves will be here soon with our dinner."
Snape spun away, choosing not to look at Harry's grateful and overly happy face at the gift of the slippers.
Minutes later, his feet now snug in the soft slippers, Harry emerged from the short hallway and back into the living room. A small, round table took up most of the room and was splendidly set with roasted chicken, small potatoes, steamed vegetables, a bowl of fruit medley, a glass of wine for Snape, and for Harry a glass of cold milk.
For several minutes they ate in peace until Harry spoke up. "Are you sure you want me?"
The question was not at all expected by Snape, and he had to take a moment to wipe his lips with his linen napkin and then to regard the small child who was now drawing his fork through his steamed vegetables. Putting his elbows on either side of his plate, Snape steepled his fingers together.
"Have I given you reason to believe I do not want you?" he asked solemnly.
Harry drew a figure 8 in his vegetables with his fork. "Well, you keep calling me 'Mr. Potter' and I thought you were only going to do that for school, so maybe...?"
Snape smirked and resumed his eating. After a forkful of vegetables, he then replied, "It is habit, Harry. I will do my best in being more diligent in using your name and that of your friends. You must forgive me if I do forget at times."
"Sooo, if you're mad at me, or I'm in trouble, or something will you still call me Harry?" he took a small bite of vegetables and grimaced slightly. He wasn't all that fond of vegetables, but his teacher insisted that everyone in Slytherin had to eat them.
Snape smiled briefly. "I will endeavor to do so," he said with mock magnanimity. "However, if I do happen to call you Mr. Potter, and we are not in class or school, you had better come running. Post haste."
Harry giggled, "Yes, sir!" He ate another mouthful of vegetables before turning his attention back to his chicken.
After dinner, Snape was seated on the sofa with his legs stretched out and his feet near the flames of the fire. Harry had talked him into removing his dragon hide boots and his black socks, and he now had on a pair of brushed satin slippers that were as warm as Harry's black plush slippers.
Harry had curled up against Snape's side and underneath a protective arm. Snape's hand rested upon the boy's thigh. Against his Dark Man, Harry had taken out all of the little pebbles he had found down at the Standing Stones that afternoon. One by one, they would both examine the pebble, and then Harry would try to identify it.
Harry picked up one that was slightly grey, shot through with dots of white and dull black. "Granite," he declared decisively. He put it on Snape's thigh and Snape levitated the pebble to a side table to join several others. Harry smiled as he picked up one pebble that had angular edges he was familiar with. "Pyrite! Will you come to the Malfoys Winter Ball, sir?"
Snape nodded, but then noticed Harry's attention was still on his lapful of stones. "I have my invitation and Madame Malkin is preparing a new set of dress robes for me."
"In sky blue, right?" teased Harry. He let out a giggling shriek as Snape's slim fingers tickled his side.
"Black, you idiot whelp!" Snape chuckled. He helped Harry gather the stones that had fallen from the boy's lap.
"How come you like black so much?" asked Harry as he fingered one of the cloth-covered buttons of Snape's now open long coat. Beneath was a plain, white muslin shirt.
Snape pulled Harry a bit closer against his side as he ran the fingers of his other hand contemplatively down the smooth silken wool blend that was the fabric of his long coat. "It's simple. Practical. I've never been quite the fashion plate that Lucius is."
"Mr. Malfoy is kind of pretty," Harry commented seriously. Snape bit back the snort that threatened at the boy's observation.
Snape coughed softly, and then replied, as though injured, "I suppose I am ugly, then, since I do not dress in all those lovely colours."
"No! I didn't mean that!" Harry stiffened, worried that he truly had offended his teacher.
Snape settled Harry back at his side and with his other hand he brushed at the boy's fringe. "Harry, I was only joking with you. You did not hurt my feelings."
"Promise? Cause I know... I, uhm," he clamped his mouth shut.
Snape's eyes narrowed only a bit as he nodded, "Yes. I am quite well aware of what the students call me, Harry."
"Doesn't that hurt your feelings, though?" Harry asked gently.
For a moment Snape was quiet, then he replied thoughtfully to Harry's concern, "In my first year as a teacher, it was hard to hear those hurtful names. I had a brief moment when I thought that perhaps I ought to be nicer in class, and I even tried it." He shook his head ruefully. "That was an unmitigated disaster."
"What happened?" asked Harry with interest. He laid his cheek against Snape's chest so he could listen to the man's heartbeat and hear his deep voice rumbling within his chest.
"I had a second year student; a Hufflepuff, Elsie Handrew." He grimaced lightly at the remembrance of the child's name. "Miss Handrew read her lessons in advance. Her failing came with a lack of confidence, a terrible questioning of herself for every move she would make. It made her nervous and somewhat clumsy." He smirked, recalling another student who was also clumsy, but always apologetic and very cheerful. Snape made a note to tell Harry a story about her, someday. He continued, "It was only three months into the term and we were to be brewing Arthritis Balm that day. Not terribly difficult, but one really couldn't afford to make a mistake."
"But Elsie did," stated Harry.
Snape glared gently down at the boy, "Who is telling this story, Mr. Potter?"
Harry shifted his head so it was still against his teacher's chest, but he could look up at him. He grinned. "I was just guessin'!"
"Hmph!" Snape tickled Harry's ribs lightly and as Harry let out an 'eep'. He then continued with his story. "I was trying to be nice. Which was difficult. I do so find shouting at dunderheads to be much easier." Harry giggled softly at Snape's side. "So, there I was, being as nice as I thought might be safe, but unfortunately it was not having quite the effect I was hoping for. Miss Handrew was her usual nervous self, and it seemed to be spreading to her classmates."
"You did yell, though, didn't you?" Harry surmised.
Snape smirked, "Mm, yes. I did. At the very worst moment, too. It began with Miss Handrew dropping too many green tea leaves into her cauldron. Then, one after another, in the most spectacular domino effect I have ever seen, one by one and within seconds of each other, the cauldrons launched themselves from the fires. Everyone was screaming and I was trying to herd the entire class out of the room and to make sure that no one was hit by either a flying or a falling cauldron!"
Harry's eyes brightened and he smiled at his teacher as he sat up and spread his arms wide, "But nobody got hurt and you saved the day and gave Miss Handrew detention and started shouting again!"
"Not quite, Mr. Potter!" scolded Snape as he caught the small boy around the middle and pulled him onto his lap. "I gave the entire class detention, was given detention myself by the Headmaster, and then...! Then I yelled at all my classes for the rest of the year!"
Harry started to giggle, but then he suddenly stopped, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Wait a minute! You got a detention? But you're a grown up!"
Snape glowered at the past for a moment, then grumped out, "That was my argument, but one thing I have learned about Albus Dumbledore is that he will do whatever he wants."
At the frown Harry gave him, Snape thought that what he'd said about the Headmaster might not have been the wisest thing to say. Harry laced his fingers together and stared, hard, down at them. "I don't like him," he muttered.
Snape used his index finger to tilt the boy's head up so he could look into those green eyes of his. "The Headmaster?" Harry only nodded. "What worries you about him?" Snape asked very quietly, almost conspiratorially.
Harry whispered, "He gave me to the Dursleys, didn't he?" Harry began to nervously twist one of his teacher's coat buttons.
Snape was tempted to lie, but he could not do so, not to this boy, for on this subject Harry deserved the truth, even if it might hurt. "They were your only living relatives and he thought they would care for you."
"Did he ever check on me?" Harry didn't wait for an answer as he now twisted the button angrily. "I don't think he did 'cause it would have stopped if he did." Harry gasped as the button came loose. Black thread dangled wearily from one side of the button. Snape wrested the button gently but firmly from Harry's hand and quickly tucked it into the coat pocket. The thorough house elves in the laundry would find it and reattach it.
Snape wrapped a hand over Harry's and squeezed lightly. "Yes, child, the Headmaster should have checked on you, and he failed you by not doing so. Does it help that it was he that sent me to get you?"
Harry gave his teacher, the Dark Man, a terribly mournful look, "Why didn't he send you sooner?"
"I wish he had," Snape pulled the boy into an embrace and Harry wrapped his arms around the older man's neck.
Snape felt a touch of salty wetness on his neck and he began to pat Harry's back. The weeping didn't increase, though. Harry spoke in a whisper that was sad and grateful at the same time, "Mum did tell me to be patient though. She said you'd come for me."
It took every ounce of willpower that Snape had not to freeze and let his muscles stiffen. The drawing Harry had done and had taped to the inside of his cupboard at #4 Privet Drive rushed up to the very forefront of his mind. In that second he recalled the breezes that had touched his cheek when no breeze should have been where he was.
Was Lily watching over her son? Had Lily visited Harry in his dreams? Was it Lily who sent the child the images he had drawn?
Snape would have asked, but Harry had slipped into sleep very quickly. Securing his hold, the Potions Master rose from the sofa and then put Harry down upon it. He Summoned a pillow, that he slipped carefully under Harry's head, and then a blanket which he threw over the boy after he Transfigured Harry's clothing into a warm pair of fleece pyjamas. Snape then walked into his small kitchen.
Once in the kitchen, Snape wrote a quick note to Draco.
Mr. Draco Malfoy,
This note is to inform you that Harry fell asleep in my quarters and shall spend the night here. He will meet you just outside of the Great Hall for breakfast in the morning.
S. Snape
Snape then called for an elf to deliver the note. After fixing some tea, he returned to his living room where he lowered the light and sat down in his favourite chair, near the sleeping child.
The wizard allowed himself a small smile of contentment. Tomorrow, Harry would be his son.
* Minerva's Age - according to JK Rowling on Pottermore per her biography.
Updated 5/2015
