Title:

The boy that forgot to die

Author:

evil minded

Date:

November, 15th 2011

Timeframe:

Second year at Hogwarts

Summary:

AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be, and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

Disclaimer:

I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, nor about most of the other characters in HP … I, however, would like to own one particular Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

Rating:

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

Author's Notes:

Uhm … alright … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the – perhaps – sad language, nor for the subject of my writing …

Also, this is a story written for NaNo, a story written within thirty days only and even though I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories of mine you are used to by now … thank you …

Warning:

Story contains bad language and swearing.

Don't ever use such, it's neither good manners nor proper use of language and never mind how 'cool' it might sound, it surely isn't a sign of intelligence. It won't get you anywhere and people will think less of you if you are unable articulating properly.

Story contains references to child neglect.

Child neglect is a really, really serious thing, and there are a lot of children in our world that are neglected, children that lack food, clothing, often love, and perhaps even a roof over their head – and closing our eyes, and pretending it does not exist – is no solution …

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is one of the most evil things, and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help but have to live without hope – and again, closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist – is no solution … instead show sympathy, and understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs – whichever – of once having been abused … with understanding and with help …

What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me – I am …

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Previously in "The boy that forgot to die"

Well, he hadn't known how to breach the subject of Snape being his father to the two of them, because Ron would have hated him back then, already. And he hadn't known how to breach the subject of his relatives, and how they treated him to Ron and Hermione either, because – he just hadn't been able admitting his weakness to them. Not to mention that last school year he had been away from the Dursleys, and the world had been perfect, for ten month, until he'd had to go back.

But now – now he had someone whom he could ask such question, whom he could ask about his family, about his real family, not the Dursleys – even though his father wanted to talk about them, too, whatever reason for – but he could ask him about his mom, and about him, about his grandparents, perhaps, and about what he could be doing with his life, now that he might have a perspective … perhaps …

The boy that forgot to die

Chapter fifteen

Never mind what – I do want you

Or a Gryffindor, I take it?

"Your mother and I, we knew each other much too long and we were just too close, even back then, when we were children still." He softly said, running his fingers through the boy's hair lightly, not even wondering why he did. This boy, ghost or not – he was a product of him and Lily, the only thing Lily had left him. "I just wasn't able being angry at her after she had left me for Potter. I was angry at Potter, for stealing away my wife – or rather the girl I had loved as I did not remember Lily and me having married – but even if I knew that it needed two people for such a thing, that Lily as well could have said no to Potter – I haven't been able to feel anger at her, and we still stayed – friends, sort of. We still talked to each other, and she still asked me for help every now and then."

"How long did you know her?" The boy asked, turning his head up at him and he lifted his eyebrow at the display of curiosity.

"We have first met when we have been seven years old." He answered, remembering those times when their only worries had been when to meet the next day, and where – except of his troubles with his father, of course, but that was another story and didn't belong here. "I first have seen her and her sister on the playground and I have watched her bringing a flower which her sister had thrown to the floor and trampled at, back to life. And I have known that she was a witch back then, pouring a little bit of her own life and magic into the dying flower. I have seen my mother doing such things sometimes and so I knew what it had meant."

"Did you tell her?" The boy asked, looking back over the sea.

"Yes." He simply answered, his dark eyes following his son's eyes while he wondered how the boy was feeling about all this.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Harry at the same time, was thinking about other things, more simpler things that were, however, just as strange to him as was his entire current life – that was strange and strenuous enough at the moment. Instead, he was trying to imagine his mother as a seven year old, casting magic and then trying to imagine Snape as a seven year old, telling his mother that she was a witch and that she had just done magic, while his aunt, stood beside them, hearing Snape's words. Did aunt Petunia even remember Snape? Did Snape remember her?

But all that came to his mind was his uncle beating the day living lights out of him for apparating onto the roof at school. The fire engine had had to come to get him down, confused over how a scrawny and little boy like him had been able to climb up there in the first place and they had suggested that uncle Vernon admitted him in a climbing curse of some kind. Well, uncle Vernon had been furious and as soon as they had been home, he had stopped playing the nice and overly concerned uncle and had begun beating him furiously with his belt while calling him a freak.

No matter how many times he tried, he simply couldn't imagine his mum at the age of seven with Snape of all people telling her that she was a witch, while his aunt stood beside them, listening. He had only the picture of his uncle beating him for doing accidental magic in his mind.

"I guess aunt Petunia didn't like that." He murmured, shuddering at the thought and he could feel Snape pulling him closer. Taking a deep breath, he leaned against the man's chest and allowed himself to accept the comfort that was given, determined to add these moments to his good memories he was collecting for bad times.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Oh, back then Petunia had not been so against the thought at all." The Potions Master said, and Harry looked up at him, sharply, unbelievingly. "She even tried to do magic as well. Unfortunately, you are right – just when Lily got her Hogwarts letter, when it was clear that she would go to Hogwarts while your aunt has not been permitted there, Petunia, being jealous, decided that she did not want to be like Lily anymore. Your mother was deeply upset when your aunt kept calling her a freak."

He couldn't help noticing the flinch Harry gave away at the word 'freak' and immediately he knew that, most likely, the boy had been called that same word for his entire life just as well – he should have known. Mental abuse always went along together with the physical abuse and neglect – and he had to stop himself from growling angrily.

"And mum's parents?" The boy asked, shifting uncomfortably. "Were they … did they hate mum, too? Because she was a witch?"

"There is no need to feel uncomfortable." He reassured. "Neither for asking a question generally nor for asking a question about your family. Your grandparents, Rose and Henry Evans, they were the nicest Muggles I have ever met, and they were ecstatic to have a witch in the family. They were undoubtedly proud of your mother." He said, brushing away a strand of his son's hair and feeling the boy's mix of misery and curiosity when his fingertips brushed the pale forehead.

"I have been a visitor in their house rather often, seeing that Lily and I have been so close friends, and so I can tell you that they would have been very happy that you are a wizard." He softly said while tightening his grip on the boy and pulling him even closer. "I am sure that you might be wondering what it would have been like if you had been raised by your grandparents instead of your aunt and uncle, and believe me, Harry, they gladly would have taken you if they had been alive still, and they would have loved you deeply."

"It's just that … they didn't want me …the Dursleys." The boy murmured after a moment, not looking at him but at a point far away over the lake, as though he had forgotten the Potions Master's presence at all, looking off into space and thinking aloud. "If they'd been different … or maybe it I'd been different …"

The older wizard and head of Slytherin narrowed his eyes at this but neither did the boy notice, nor did he interrupt the boy. He had already been surprised that Harry was speaking to him so easily, so openly right now, telling him things he had refused telling him before and gaining detention for it. But then again – when did this particular boy not surprise him? It seemed to be the child's favourite pastime, pulling the rug under Severus constantly.

"Maybe then they'd have … you know, wanted me, would've been glad to have me, would've loved me and such crap. I tried so very much to do things right, to please them, and to do what they wanted, to be a good boy, but they never loved me, never mind how much I tried, they never even liked me or wanted me. They didn't like my world and they didn't like me, and I guess I can't even blame them. I guess, first my aunt lost her sister and then Dumbledore dumped me at their house … anytime someone from our world was around them, they … well, I guess you could say it didn't turn out so well for them." He smiled grimly, but the look in his eyes was flat and empty.

Snape did not know what made him angrier – the fact that Lily's sister and her miserable husband had brought his son to this state, or the fact that the boy, on some level, at least, did somehow blame himself for the fact that his relatives did not love or want him.

"I do know that you are far too intelligent, Harry, and therefore you surely know that your uncle's behaviour towards you was both, unacceptable and monstrous, do you not?"

The boy looked up at him briefly, his eyes still flat and empty, not really attentive, not really here in this world, then he looked away again.

"Yes, I know that." He muttered, but his voice sounded as flat and empty as his eyes looked.

"Never mind what, Harry." He softly said. "I do want you."

"Know." The boy said, pulling away and getting up. He hesitated for a moment, looking at him, and Snape thought from the look on his face that the boy was about to ask something. Instead, though, he shrugged very slightly, nodded once and walked away toward the castle. Remaining beside the lake, Snape watched him going, thinking, his eyes narrowed at the careful movements the boy ghost took and he immediately knew – it was something the boy had learned throughout the years, walking slowly, moving carefully, his movements and energy measured well to keep as much strength throughout the day and to keep the pain as bearable as possible. The startling thing was – that it was a twelve year old child that already knew such habits.

'You should have been mine, child, not only for barely two years but for all your life, for my life – you should have been mine! I would have been happy having you! And I would not have abused you, I would not have neglected you, I would have loved you!'

Startled at that thought he blinked for a moment while looking into the direction his son had gone to, to the castle. Did he really mean that? Except of those two years, he'd had with the boy – he had never thought of being a father … his own father had done nothing to inspire him to want to take on that particular job himself.

He had never thought about it before, but now he wondered … assuming he had made other decisions in life? Assuming he had not taken on the job as a spy? Assuming he had gone against Dumbledore and his meddling decisions? Snape would never have been gone on this particular night and Lily and Harry would have been safe with him.

Looking over the lake like the boy had done earlier, he couldn't deny that he had begun to feel the same for the child like he had done back then, a protectiveness that went beyond anything he ever had felt, even towards his Slytherins in general, and Draco in particular.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"There's a ghost over there, that demands clothes!" He heard the clerk whispering into Gladrag's ear and looking down into Harry's face he could tell that the boy had heard the comment as well, the idiot clerk not whispering very quietly, and he scowled.

He'd been planning on coming here yesterday, but his son had so much to think about, so many pieces to pick up around himself and so much to catch up – they simply had talked after he had finally followed Harry inside half an hour after Harry had left the lake, half an hour during which he had thought through things himself.

It had been more important in his opinion, seeing that the boy had been ready to talk with him finally, and honestly – a day sooner or later in getting clothes for Harry, this one day really didn't make a difference as he had just continued to temporarily shrinking clothes of his own for the boy to wear. It wasn't a big deal.

And so, they had come here today – to have people staring and whispering.

It was Diagon Alley, for Merlin's sake, and a street like Diagon Alley was – except for a few exceptions – visited by magical folks only! They should be used to ghosts after all! And yet – they seemed not. They were staring at him as well as at the boy and there were whispers about him, Snape, being in the shopping centre of the wizarding world to begin with and with a child on his side no less, with a ghost child even, whispers about the mean Potions Master having killed the child and now being hunted by his ghost, whispers of the poor boy ghost being bound to him, Snape, by magic, having to serve him, and whispers of Harry being a student whom he had been mean to in potions and who must have died because of that, whom he now was responsible for as surely even as a ghost, a child couldn't be alone.

It was unnerving!

It was infuriating!

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down and he placed a calming hand onto his son's shoulder, the boy clearly more than just nervous, the boy was frightened, and he wondered why.

"That's alright, you idiot!" He could hear Gladrag growling at his clerk. "There's no reason to be rude about it! Professor Snape, it's been some time." Gladrag then added while coming towards him. "What can I do for you and …?"

"My son." Snape answered. "We need several complete sets of clothes for the child, basics, casual wear and formal clothes, including two pairs of boots and trainers each, as well as three sets of school uniforms."

"Of course, Professor Snape." Gladrag said with his eyes large and starting to get into a panic attack of sorts, calling out orders for three cups of tea being brought first, and he couldn't help thinking that – yes, a cup of tea surely would prevent the man from dying of a heart attack. Harry looked up at him, his pale face questioningly.

"I guess, Master Gladrag does not have a customer who needs several complete outfits for a child every day." He explained, trying to keep the boy himself as calm as possible. He definitely would have to find out why the child was so frightened upon being in a shop.

"Indeed." Gladrag agreed after tea had been brought and handed out to the storekeeper as well as to the Professor and his son. "Never before had I had a child here that needed a complete outfit, the children normally own at least a few clothes already and knowing your father he surely does not expect one basic set."

"Of course not!" He huffed, steadying Harry's trembling hand before he would spill the tea. "You do know my standards, Mr. Gladrag."

"Of course, Professor Snape." The man said, calmer finally, and got to work. "Black and different shades green as basic colours, I take it?" He then asked. "And the shirts white?"

"Yes, please." He said. "But add different shades of brown and – red to the basic colours as well."

"A Gryffindor, I take it?" Gladrag asked, eyeing the boy before casting a sideways glance towards him, Snape, his face clearly showing his curiosity about him, Severus Snape, the head of Slytherin house, having a son that had been sorted into Gryffindor.

"Indeed." The Potions Master drawled. "If you please would get started then?"

"Of course, Professor Snape, of course."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Mom, look, it's a real ghost?" The voice of a small child could be heard, and the Potions Master turned with a scowl on his face.

They had been finished at Gladrag's an hour later and Harry had been a nervous wreck by then. The boy definitely had not taken all the measuring and prodding too well, and in the end the shopkeeper had had no other chance than casting a measuring spell – it wouldn't be as well-fitting as manual measuring, but it would do and Gladrag was no novice after all – he would know what to do, so that in the end, the clothes fit as well as if they had been measured manually.

"Can't we just go?" Harry quietly asked, tugging on his sleeve. "I have my books and all other things already and I really don't need anything else from here."

"You do need new quills and a few pencils as well as some other equipment." He answered. "I have seen your belongings, Harry, and they are non-existent. I also suggest that you chose a few colouring pencils, a ruler, an eraser and a pencil case – as well as a sketch book."

"Why would I need a sketch book?" The boy asked, looking up at him, clearly not understanding.

"Plainly, because I suggested it." He simply said, not ready to explain his mind right now. He wanted the boy out of here and in the Steaming Kitchen for dinner before he had a complete nervous breakdown – and possibly without hurrying him too much through the shopping, something that wasn't too easy as he felt the need for pressure, the boy's only clear wish being to heed home finally.

He could already imagine the boy's real body in the hospital wing becoming restless and he had already sent a patronus to Poppy half an hour ago with instructions on adding a calming potion to the boy's system while he himself had considered giving one to the boy's ghost form as well.

"'K." The child said, turning back to the shelf and choosing some of the coloured pencils, he easily noticed that he was choosing dark colours only – two different dark green, blue and red each as well as different brown colours and a dark grey and black pencil. He didn't comment on the missing colours though, but kept in mind to simply get them himself at a later point in time. Right now, the boy had chosen some – as difficult as choosing something for himself seemed to be for his son, and that was enough for him at the moment.

"Can we go now, please?" The boy softly asked, looking up at him with large and pleading eyes, with tired and exhausted eyes and he couldn't resist them.

"Yes." He simply said, leading the boy to the counter to pay for the things Harry had chosen.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"May I suggest the rather large section on ghost comics we have?" The clerk behind the counter asked upon looking at the boy, and the Potions Master scowled, again placing a calming hand at his son's shoulder.

"No, you may not." He growled darkly, tightening the grip he had on the boy's shoulder to keep him close by. "You, however, may tell me your name so that I can inform your employer of your lack in discretion what surely will help you in thinking before opening this tactless mouth of yours in future."

He could feel movement beneath his hand on Harry's shoulder, the boy's head going up at him and he didn't have to look down to know that the boy had a questioning, perhaps even startled look on his face, not used to being defended to such a degree, and surely not by him, Snape, of all people – or by any adult in general. Well – not only Harry managed to pull the rug from under his feet – as it seemed he, Snape, managed to do the same with the boy as well, a rather satisfying thought, he had to admit that.

"I didn't mean it like that, sir, and you have my sincere apology." The idiot clerk started, his voice unsure. "Maybe you would like taking these things as a present from our house as a small reparation?"

"Your name –" He demanded, his dark eyes on the man's pale face.

"Daniel Brown." The man finally said, gulping.

"Very well, Mr. Brown, the bill, if you would, please?"

A moment later he had paid for their shopping, had shrunken the items and had then left the shop with the boy who was trembling by now.

"I suggest we stop in the Steaming Kitchen before we visit our last shop for today." He quietly said, steering the boy towards the tavern nearby. "We will take a small dinner there, and then we can go on to our last stop.

"Couldn't we go to the Leaky Cauldron instead?" The boy asked, hopefully, before he clasped both his hands over his mouth at realizing that he had asked not just an inappropriate question but that he had asked for something for himself no less, that he might seem ungrateful with his question as Snape already had paid so much for him and was now about taking him for lunch too.

"No, Harry." The Potions Master said, stopping the boy and looking down at him before lowering himself to one knee in front of the boy, startling not only the twelve year old but several other people on the street with his action – the nasty, dark and tough Potions Master, most hated teacher at Hogwarts – he was kneeling in front of a second year! "And not because you have asked, or would like going there, but because I will not visit a pub like the Leaky Cauldron while I have a child in company as this – establishment is not made for children such as you. I will not have you in there before you are much older – neither for a meal nor for using the floo as there are other fireplaces in Diagon Alley to use aside from the Leaky Cauldron." He tried to explain so the boy would truly understand. "You are allowed to ask questions, I even expect you to ask questions and I expect you to tell me what you would like or not like, but you will have to accept my final word as I see fit, and visiting a pub like the Leaky Cauldron for a child is out of question."

"Yes, sir." The boy said, like always. "Sorry, sir."

"There, again, is no need to apologize, Harry." He sighed while straightening. "I just expect you to accept my decision."

"'K." Was the still miserable answer and he led the boy further down the street until they reached the tavern to their right and then led the boy in.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Harry had been disappointed first, and scared.

He knew the Leaky Cauldron already, he had been in there with Hagrid last year before the half giant had brought him to Kings Cross, and he already had eaten something in there, too. And so, he knew that it wasn't a restaurant where he would have trouble with anything because no one would expect anything from him in an – establishment like that, like Snape had said. No one would look at him if he held his fork and knife the wrong way, or his spoon.

He hadn't been so sure with the Steaming Kitchen. Snape had sounded as if it was a restaurant of some kind in which you would need much more manners. And he knew that he had none of that! He never had been explained anything by aunt Petunia like Dudley, after all, so how should he know how correct eating was done to begin with? He would just shame his father and then the man would be angry at him. And he didn't want his father being angry at him.

And not only because he feared what the man could do to him if he was angry, now that he was officially his father, but also because – he wanted to make things right, he wanted this to work! He wanted a family! Snape or not, but he wanted him to be his family!

Because Snape had been the only one who cared.

However, it hadn't been as bad as he had feared.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

The Potions Master of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Severus Snape, watched the boy sitting opposite him, the child smiling broadly, and he leaned back in his seat, wondering what had caused this smile on the pale face. The boy never had smiled much so far.

Frowning he thought of their lunch. It had been strange, the boy had asked for nothing than a cup of tea when he had asked him to order, even if he had known that the boy had been hungry and he had waved the innkeeper away, causing his son to look at him startled and scared again.

Flashback

"Harry?" He asked, his dark eyes on the boy who looked up at him, slowly, as if he knew that he had done something wrong.

"Sir?" The boy then just as unsurely asked.

"I am sure that you would like having more than – just tea." He said, his dark eyes still piercing the boy. "Especially as I know that you are no friend of … tea … I am sure that you are hungry."

"No, sir – I mean, yes, sir." The boy quickly added when he lifted his eyebrow. "But it isn't necessary, really, I mean … I'd only shame you anyway and it's only expensive too and you already have spent …"

"First – do you think I had brought you here for lunch if I were not able – or ready – paying for your meal?" He asked, his face dark. "I am your father, and I am not only responsible for you, I also am the one providing you with what you need – clothes, school supplies, food, a room with anything in it you need, books, kind of – toys, and other things, including taking you out for lunch or dinner once in a while."

The boy looked down, but he nodded.

"Second – why in Merlin's name do you think that you would shame me by ordering something to eat?" He then asked, lifting his eyebrow when the boy shrugged his shoulders.

"I would like you to answer the question, Harry." He said as sternly as possible while still sounding gentle – something that wasn't too easy he had noticed lately.

"Dunno." The ghost finally answered. "I've never been out … Dudley had been out, and aunt Petunia had shown him how to behave and … and things, but … well, as I've never been out, there'd been no reason for her to show me and … well …"

"We will work on that." He quietly said when it was clear that the pre-teen did not intend on continuing his speech, realizing how far reaching everything was with the boy. Many of his Slytherins came from Death Eater families, and therefore were abused or neglected, sometimes even both, but never would they abuse their children to such an extend as no pureblood wizard would risk his pureblood child's life and they never would neglect their children to such an extend as they needed to educate their children in wizarding standards and etiquette. It was different with Harry, with his son, and he could only guess what else would come up in future years.

"But neither here nor now." He finally said. "This tavern here is no higher class restaurant and no one will mind you showing manners or not, even if I expect you to do your best anyway. Considering however that I have seen you being able eating without drooling and without speaking with your mouth full – something that not every Gryffindor student is capable of – it will suffice in here. Anything else we will work on before I take you into a more luxury restaurant. And now – are you ready to order anything else than just – tea?"

"But … what if …"

"You will make no mistake and even if you do – then be it." He said, his dark eyes still on the boy. "You will be quite fine."

"'K." The boy said, his shoulders slumped in defeat, and he could see that he still didn't feel too well about it.

End flashback

He had waved the innkeeper over then and they had ordered their lunch, a simple soup with potatoes, beef and beans, and slices of white toasted bread. The boy first had been unsurely looking around from between his black fringes, looking if anyone was watching him, but after a while he had started eating, as slowly and as unsurely as he always did, holding his spoon much too low down the handle like any small child would do – another sign of his unsureness, the boy being afraid of dropping his cutlery. He would work on such things with his son later, when the boy had learned to trust him, that he was safe with him.

After a while however the boy had started to relax and he had even closed his eyes while eating, savouring the taste of the soup and as strange as it was – Severus Snape felt satisfied with the child being so – happy. As if – as if it made himself happy.

What a ridiculous thought!

He was Severus Snape. He was a dark and tough man, a spy and Death Eater, the head of the most shunned house at Hogwarts and definitely the most hated teacher imaginable – nature itself trembled with fright and held its breath while he passed and – he was not a happy man!

And surely not because he had made a child happy!

He did not make children happy!

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

To be continued

Next time in "The boy that forgot to die"

Babbling in the steaming kitchen

Added author's note

thank you for reading – and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

House Cup:
At the present time it looks like this:

30 Points - Slytherin
07 Points - Gryffindor
27 Points - Ravenclaw
06 Points - Hufflepuff