AUTHOR"S NOTES:
This story has been sitting in the drafts for AGES, but I've finally been inspired to post it. Same Snape flavor (maybe Snape is a LITTLE more hardcore and bit more mean, but that just means more room for growth), slightly different. We're keeping the "Daddy Snape" /Severitus vibes but giving him a biological child and a potential love interest.
Hope you enjoy!
After the war, Snape disappeared. When his body was never found, there were rumors he was dead, but just as many that he'd survived and slinked off into oblivion.
He'd spent the first six months recovering alone in a safe house, battling both for his life and his will to live. A year later he found out a distant Muggle relative had died leaving him as the sole heir to a fortune, a title, and an enormous manor on a large plot of land in the north, far away from everything and everyone he knew. He had gladly taken the new identity and was happy to live his life as a recluse, spending his days cultivating his beautiful gardens and brewing to his heart's content in the potions lab he'd built for himself in the dungeons.
Snape was busy in his lab when his house elf appeared suddenly before him.
"I thought I told you never to disturb me when I'm brewing." His words were curt, but not cruel, although he hated to be interrupted when he was deep in concentration.
"Sorry, sir" the house elf trembled slightly, wringing his hands. "I's didn't want to disturb you, but, but…" he stuttered.
"Well, get on with it," Snape spat, now clearly irritated.
"Someone is here to see you, sir." The house elf backed away cautiously, looking up from his brow not wanting to see the rage in his master's face. While Snape would never harm his elf, he occasionally had an ugly temper and Tinny tried to avoid upsetting him.
"Someone, who?" He replied flatly as he carefully ground dried rosemary between his fingers over a simmering black cauldron. "And how?" He had strong apparition wards around the manor, and a working floo, which he generally kept off the network unless he needed something.
"I's not sure, my Lord, he said he's from the Ministry. That he knows you, from before."
Snape angrily banished the potion he'd been working on and turned on his heels, moving briskly up the stairs to the main floor, his black robes sweeping behind him. In six years no one had dared to show up uninvited to his home, and he was dying to know who had the audacity to do so now.
He stalked through the parlor ready to hex someone into oblivion and was shocked to see Harry bloody Potter waiting casually by the fireplace. He was older, more mature, a bit of healthy weight on him, but lines already beginning to form prematurely on his face. Snape could see the war still plagued him, he knew those lines and those dark circles, he'd bet his life Harry suffered from nightmares and panic attacks but still pretended that everything was just fine.
"Professor Snape, you're looking well, sir." He put out a hand to greet the older wizard but soon put it away as he was met with a sneer.
"Snape is dead. I'm Lord Alastair Kent now. And what on earth are you doing here? How did you find me?"
A smile crept over the young man's face, not at the words, but at seeing his professor again, his words as cutting as ever. "I'm sorry to have come unannounced, but I'm afraid it's rather urgent. I came myself in order to protect your new whereabouts and identity."
The scowl on Snape's face deepened. "I'm a busy man, Potter, so say whatever you need to say and be on your way."
For the last six years, Snape had avoided the wizarding world as much as possible. He'd occasionally disguise himself and go into town briefly for supplies and potions ingredients, and he'd kept up with enough wizarding news to know that Harry Potter had reached his goal of becoming an Auror and was now working his way up the Ministry ladder, probably only a few years away from being Minister of Magic.
He also knew it was Potter who had cleared his name and had an Order of Merlin bestowed on him "posthumously." But he wasn't about to thank him for any of that- he just wanted to be left alone and live in peace, riding out his later years in solitude and intellectual exercise while the wizarding world believed him dead and long-forgotten.
"Perhaps we should take a seat, this may take a moment." Harry gestured to the sofa.
Snape crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at Potter menacingly. "Presumptuous of you to believe you've been invited to stay. Kindly state your business and leave, I have no interest in social visits."
"I'm afraid this isn't a social visit, Professor." Harry ran a hand through his unruly mop of dark hair before he exhaled and steeled himself. "Stella Blackburn has died, I'm afraid. From the most recent strain of Dragon Pox. She apparently tried to treat it on her own at home instead of seeking out a healer, and tragically, she miscalculated in some of her potions and spellwork. It was a gruesome end."
Snape hadn't thought about that woman in years. He'd never been one for romance, but during a particularly rough period leading up to the war, he'd had a fleeting dalliance with her after a few too many drinks in Diagon Alley. They'd hooked up a few times after that, but it was nothing serious, he could barely remember it except for the fact it was the last time he'd been with a woman. At the time he'd been bored, filled with impending doom, and she was a willing young witch who didn't talk too much or ask too many questions—a perfect distraction from the imminent return of the Dark Lord, or so he believed at the time. She had disappeared a few months later and with everything going on, he'd never given it—or her—a second thought. Until now.
Idiot woman , he thought to himself, she had been pleasant—with a great arse—but not nearly bright enough to brew her own healing potions. He'd never asked her about her background, but it was quite obvious to him that she'd never been to Hogwarts or had a proper magical education. She should have gone to St. Mungos if she'd had half a brain. Snape shook his head and exhaled with mild annoyance. "I fail to see how that's any of my concern."
Harry gestured again to the sofa. "Please, Professor, let's sit for a moment."
"I see you're still as dim-witted as you've always been, Potter. How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not your Professor. You may address me properly or you may leave. I'm growing quite weary of your presence here."
The young man cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't know how to tell you this, but are you aware that you have a son?"
Snape felt like the floor was dropping out beneath him, his stomach now wrenching into his feet, but he kept his face impassive. A delayed and telling beat passed before he finally responded. "Don't be absurd."
"Yes, sir. I'm afraid you do. His name is Soren, he's seven. And you're his only living relative."
With a snap of his fingers, Snape's house elf appeared. "Tinny, bring us some firewhiskey." The elf nodded and disappeared quickly.
Snape finally sat down in an armchair, trying to remain composed. "His mother was hardly discerning, anyone could be the father. I refuse to take responsibility for some common street urchin just because his fool of a mother wasn't bright enough to seek proper medical care."
Tinny returned quickly with two glasses of firewhisky on a tray, handing one to Snape and one to Harry.
Harry thanked the house elf and sat cautiously on the sofa, setting his glass down untouched on the coffee table. "The boy was just discovered by Muggle social services. He'd been living alone in the house with his mother's rotting body for weeks. He was half-starved when the neighbors finally called about the stench. It was a whole production with the Ministry when we discovered that he and his mother were magical. It took days to sort out the Muggle authorities and repair all of their memories. But Stella, she left a note and a will before she died, naming you as the father."
After taking a long sip of his whiskey, Snape brought the glass down rather harshly on his side table. "There must be someone else who can take the boy. Whilst I seriously doubt I'm the father, as you well know I'm not suited to nor interested in raising a child. Why not leave him in care with the muggles? Surely they could put him in a children's home or with a foster family."
"Sir, really, he's quite an exceptional boy. He's very bright and already showing signs of powerful magic, it is out of the question to leave him with muggles. He's quite aware of his magic, his mother was obviously teaching him at home."
Snape scoffed. "She was barely more than a squib, I seriously doubt he's as capable as he is reckless and disappointingly unaware of his limitations. It's probably best that you Obliviate him and leave him with social services. I have no time to look after orphaned brats, I think I've done enough of that for one lifetime." He raised an eyebrow at Harry hoping he caught the hint.
"Please, sir. He has no one else to look after him."
"Absolutely not my problem." Snape swigged the rest of his whiskey and slammed down his empty glass before standing. "You've delivered your message, you may leave."
Unintimidated, Harry merely reached for his wand. "We can settle this quickly with a paternity potion. If I may, sir, take a sample, and then I'll be on my way."
Confident that there was no possible way he was the father, Snape pulled up his right sleeve, offering the smooth, white skin on his unmarked forearm. "If that's what it takes to finally be rid of you. Go on, be quick about it. And do try your best not to stuff this up, Potter. It's my good arm."
Harry aimed his wand and a small drop of blood appeared on the pale skin. He pulled a vial from his pocket and collected the oozing red liquid before touching his wand to Snape's arm to heal the small wound.
While the two men watched, the vial began to bubble and fizz before it finally turned a luminescent gold.
Harry pursed his lips together to suppress a small gasp while the color drained completely from Snape's face, leaving him a more ghostly pallor than usual.
The potion confirmed it; Snape was indeed the father.
Snape collapsed back into his armchair in disbelief and horror, a hand shooting to rub his forehead.
Several slow seconds passed before Harry finally spoke up, softening his voice to just above a whisper. "Sir, please."
"I don't want him, Potter. Surely I can sign away my parental rights. For Merlin's sake, I'm technically dead to the Wizarding World. How did you even find me? There's a reason I disappeared- haven't I given enough? Don't I deserve to have my own life now? TINNY!"
The small house elf appeared again and Snape just tapped the rim of his glass while Tinny raced to refill it with whiskey.
"I understand, Professor, it's just—"
A hand slammed down hard on the leather armrest. "It's Lord Kent, you imbecile. Professor Snape is dead. Gone. Did the War leave you brain damaged? How many times must I tell you?"
"I'm sorry sir…Lord Kent. The Ministry…well, mostly me and a small handful of others…have known where you were this whole time, but out of respect for your privacy and all you've given to the wizarding community, it's remained a tightly held secret. But this boy has nowhere else to go. I'm afraid there's no choice. I'm sorry, sir, but he needs you."
Snape took another long sip of his whiskey but he knew he would need much more than that to deal with all this.
"I wanted to come and speak to you first, but the boy is waiting. I'm sure you need a bit of time to prepare, so I will return with him tomorrow afternoon. I'm sorry, there's no other option."
Without looking up, Snape pointed to the floo. "Leave me. Get out."
Harry stood to leave, addressing the crumpled man in the armchair confidently as he passed by. "I know this isn't what you envisioned for your life now, but this boy deserves to have a father. We both know how it feels to be unloved and unwanted, so I hope you can find a way to give him something better than that. He didn't ask for this."
Snape finished his second glass without looking up and as soon as he heard the floo roar with Harry's exit, he hurled his glass at the hearth, letting out a primal scream of rage as the crystal shattered against the stone.
He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair trying to figure out what he was possibly going to do.
The next morning, Snape awoke in his armchair, his mouth dry and crusted with a nasty film after having spent the night pounding firewhiskey in between fits of anger and frustration. He knew Potter was right, that there was no choice, but it felt supremely unfair. Like the universe had conspired against him once again, like he would never ever have peace or solitude or his own life ever again.
He summoned a hangover potion and chugged it before dragging himself to the washroom to bathe and rid himself of the stench of a mindless night of binge drinking.
Thankfully the potion kicked in as the hot water streamed over him and he closed his eyes and breathed in the steam, his wet hair sticking to his face and the nape of his neck. When the water began to run cold he turned it off and wandlessly dried himself before wrapping himself in a warm dressing gown.
After finishing his morning tea and forcing down some dry toast, he pulled himself together and began to tidy and make a few preparations. His manor house wasn't egregiously large, but it had more than enough space. He generally inhabited the main floor and the East wing upstairs, and of course the dungeons downstairs where he kept his vast potions lab and a few other rooms he used for storing supplies, keeping sacred books and practicing spells.
He had a massive library on the main floor where he enjoyed taking tea and reading, but all of his really special books, his own manuscripts, and some of the more forbidden texts on dark magic he kept in his private collection in the dungeons. He also had a beautiful study upstairs where he kept the books he read most frequently, and where he would do most of his writing. Since he rarely spoke to anyone other than Tinny, he'd taken up writing in a journal, and it had become a sacred ritual for him in the years since the war.
Snape walked up the stairs and with a wave of his arm, illuminated all of the candles, sconces, and chandeliers in the West wing of the upstairs. He hadn't stepped foot there in years and the neglect showed; spider webs, dust, threadbare rugs and tapestries with moth holes. All of it the remnants of long-dead muggle ancestors he'd never known but nonetheless inherited from.
He figured he'd have to set up a bedroom for the boy, but what else? At 7 years old he was too old for a nursery, but he would need a place to do his studies and keep his books and toys—not that he would be spoiled with too many of them. Even if Snape had plenty of money now, he refused to raise a spoiled little rich boy. His mind went immediately to Draco Malfoy and some of the overindulged pure bloods he'd had to put up with in his years as Slytherin Head of House. He shook his head. No, he would definitely not spoil the boy, he couldn't think of a greater disservice.
The one thing Snape knew for sure was that he would have to get a governess as soon as possible. He would do his fatherly duties and provide for the boy materially, make sure he was fed and clothed and well-looked after, but he didn't have the time, energy, or intention of being a primary caretaker. He would have to find someone as soon as possible who could come and care for the boy and take charge of his studies until he was old enough to go to Hogwarts.
With that in mind, he would prepare a second bedroom for a woman. Hopefully he'd be able to find someone within the week so he didn't have to waste any time getting back to his own work. He would put a classified ad in the Daily Prophet this afternoon, there was no time to waste.
Over the next several hours, Snape—with the help of Tinny—prepared the West wing to house a child and a governess. He kept the boy's bedroom fairly simple, modeling it somewhat after the Slytherin dorm rooms with a big four-poster bed, green thick curtains and new drapes over the windows.
The room was left fairly sparse except for a bookcase, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a desk, all made of dark cherry. He had no idea what else the boy would need, but hopefully he would bring everything with him. It wasn't cheery or child-like, but it was functional, just the way Snape liked it.
He rearranged a large room as the makeshift schoolroom/playroom, although Snape detested the idea of idle play. While he imagined the boy would learn the basics of muggle education, he also made sure it was set-up in a way that he could begin with magical studies as well. He conjured a small lab bench for potions and herbology. No son of his would show up at Hogwarts unprepared, he expected him to excel in all of his courses, but Potions especially.
When he was satisfied with the set-up, which looked rather like a classroom at Hogwarts, he went about preparing a room for the governess. He kept it simple, hoping whatever witch he brought in would be capable enough to make any additions or changes herself. He made sure there was a large washroom attached with a beautiful vanity and a large tub. He'd prefer not to have to go through the bother of looking for a governess a second time, so he wanted to make sure it was comfortable and inviting enough, that coupled with an excellent salary, she wouldn't want to leave.
Having accidentally caught a glimpse of himself in the large wall mirror, he scowled at his reflection- he looked sallow and thin, the hangover potion doing nothing to remove the dark circles from under his eyes. He quickly turned to leave.
Satisfied with his progress, he retreated downstairs to the parlor and had Tinny fix him a pot of Earl Grey while he sat at his small writing desk and composed his ad for the Daily Prophet:
Seeking Governess for Immediate Placement.
In search of a qualified witch to care for and privately tutor a 7-year-old boy. Must have stellar academic credentials, including OWLS and NEWTS in at least 5 core subjects, including Potions. Proficiency with muggle coursework including English, maths, basic science, and geography, preferably with ability to teach Latin.
Position is live-in with room and board provided along with a generous salary. Excellent references required, priority given to those who can start immediately. To apply, please send an owl with cover letter, qualifications, and references addressed to:
Lord Kent, Ashbury Manor
He sealed up the letter and called out to Tinny. With a small pop, she appeared in front of him.
"Post this immediately to the Daily Prophet. Use that tawny owl, Carl, he's usually the fastest."
Tinny took the letter and nodded. "Yes, sir. Anything else?"
"Prepare a proper tea with sandwiches and scones, we're expecting guests shortly." The words churned his stomach.
Unsure of what to do with his nervous energy, Snape got up from his desk and paced for a bit in the parlor. He stared out one of the large windows onto his vast grounds and let out a deep sigh. He hoped and prayed he would find a governess quickly so he could return to his life of solitude. He dreaded the peace and tranquility he'd come to rely on being gone forever. He tried to remind himself that it was only for a few years and then hopefully the brat would go off to Hogwarts and he'd have his quiet life back again.
After another half-hour of pacing and staring out the window, he finally sat down in his chair to wait. He looked up at the clock on the mantle and listened to it tick, the seconds passing by excruciatingly slowly.
Finally, at ten past 3pm, the floo roared to life and Harry Potter came through with a small, dark-haired boy in tow.
The boy looked sullen, his eyes downcast and his face thin as Harry dragged him by the hand. "Come along, Soren."
Harry looked up and smiled. "Sir, this is Soren…Soren, can you say hello?" He nudged the little boy gently with a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
Snape just stared down at the tiny human, attempting to keep a scowl from forming on his hardened face. When Soren refused to look up or offer a hand, Snape lashed out coldly. "Are you deaf or just impertinent? It is unabashedly rude to enter someone's home without greeting them properly. Get your eyes off the floor and present yourself this instant."
The timid boy took a step closer to Harry, whose smile had disappeared completely now and was replaced with disapproval at the older man's harsh words. He looked Snape straight in the eye, "Honestly Prof—Lord Kent, he's nervous and frightened. He's been through a lot in the last few days."
Harry kneeled down next to Soren and put a reassuring hand on his back. "Soren, this is your father, Lord Alastair Kent. There's nothing to be frightened of, can you look up and shake his hand?"
Soren shook his head and a small tear dripped down his cheek before he turned into Harry's shoulder seeking comfort.
Snape couldn't help himself, he rolled his eyes. This pathetic sniveling child was supposedly his offspring? He was already irritated and it hadn't even been five minutes.
"Enough theatrics, you're seven years-old, not two. Now stand up straight, put your head up and say hello. Your mother might have babied you, but I will not. Now come here and greet me like a proper young man." Snape clicked his fingers and pointed to a spot right in front of him.
Harry gave the boy a quick cuddle and then pulled him off of him, quietly encouraging him toward Snape. "Go on, say hello."
Finally, Soren shuffled forward and offered his hand to Snape, still refusing to look up. In a voice barely above a whisper he eked out a small "Hello."
Snape reached down and roughly adjusted his shoulders so he was standing up straight before putting a hand under his chin and tilting his head up. "Have the respect to look at me when you're speaking to me. Try again. 'It's a pleasure to meet you, sir.'"
Soren looked up at the tall, intimidating man and repeated his words so softly they were barely audible. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." His eyes immediately fell back to the floor as he put his hands into his pockets and stepped backward.
Snape dropped his hand from the boy's face in disgust. "Pathetic. It's clear your upbringing thus far has been less than adequate, so we have a lot to remedy. I will not tolerate any nonsense moving forward, so I suggest you learn to behave yourself quickly. Now sit down and stay quiet unless you are spoken to."
Relieved to no longer be the object of Snape's attention, the little boy scurried to the sofa where he sat down in the corner furthest away, his hands folded on his lap and his eyes still downcast and filled with tears.
"He's only seven, sir, you might consider being a bit more understanding. He's just lost the only parent he's ever known and he's terrified. Perhaps you can make an effort to show him a little bit of warmth."
Snape scoffed. "You've obviously forgotten to whom you are speaking, Potter. I have never wanted nor enjoyed being around children. I will look after him and ensure his needs are met, but I will not coddle him. He will need to adapt, I don't have the time or patience for his attention-seeking displays."
Harry let out a deep sigh and shook his head. "Please, sir. Just remember he's only a child."
"I've spent enough time around children to know they're perfectly capable of learning how to act respectfully. If he knows what's good for him, he'll learn it quickly. I won't have a rude or disrespectful child running around in my home. Now, sit down, Potter. But if you insist on telling me how to parent him, perhaps you'd like to take him home and do it yourself?"
"I wish I could, sir, but the Wizarding laws are clear, he's your son and your responsibility."
"Very well, then I will parent him as I see fit and you will cease with your unsolicited drivel." With that, Snape sat down in his armchair and snapped for his house elf. "Tinny, bring us the tea service."
Soren's eyes grew large when he saw the small house elf appear out of thin air, carrying a rather large tea service including a tiered set of plates with sandwiches, biscuits, scones and bits of cake.
"What's that?" Soren exclaimed, pointing at Tinny and looking at Harry for an explanation.
Before Harry could answer gently, Snape snapped back. "Put your hand down you silly boy, it's rude to point. That is Tinny, our house elf. He helps out around the manor."
Snape stared for a moment at Soren's face, seeing pieces of himself in the young boy for the first time. His hair was black and straight, his face oval-shaped with thin lips. His eyes were dark but a bit rounder and larger than Snape's own, framed with long thick eye-lashes. His nose, while not small and button-like, was thankfully less-pronounced than his own. It was proportional. But he looked sickly and frail, underweight and vitamin-deficient, dark bags under his eyes that looked out of place on a face so young.
"You may help yourself to tea and sandwiches," Snape said, in maybe the most gentle tone he'd used so far. "But no more than one piece of cake. The last thing I need today is a child hyped up on sugar irritating me for the rest of the afternoon."
Soren waited a moment and made himself a small plate while Tinny poured him a cup of tea with milk and sugar.
When Snape was reassured he was following directions, he turned his eyes to Harry. "I assume you've brought his things? I've set up a bedroom upstairs for him and advertised for a governess I hope will begin shortly."
"He didn't have much, to be fair. I think his mum was struggling a bit. We packed up what we could find, but it's not much. I was able to get a few more clothes from social services, but you'll probably need to get him some things. Ginny packed up a few toys and books for him, but it's not a lot."
Snape let out an exasperated sigh. "How convenient…Tinny, take Soren's things from Mr. Potter and leave them in his room. He can put them away when we've finished tea."
"Yes, sir," Tinny said eagerly, waiting patiently as Harry pulled out a few shrunken times from his pocket and handed them over.
The three of them sat awkwardly for several minutes, drinking tea and eating finger sandwiches quietly before Harry finally spoke up.
"Soren, I know this has been a big change for you, but you'll settle in. Ginny and I will come back and check on you in a few days and make sure you're settling in."
"Pardon?" Snape said, incredulously. "I see you're as brazen as ever, Potter. I despise unannounced guests so perhaps you might have the decency to owl me the next time you decide you want to drop in without invitation."
Harry had to suppress a small smile, he'd forgotten how surly his old Professor could really be. "Of course, sir, my apologies. I will request an invitation next time, but Ginny and I would still like to check in on Soren from time to time if we could."
"We'll see. If I agree, it will be at my convenience, not yours."
Harry turned his attention back to the little boy. "But you can send me a letter any time, Soren. I think you'll soon settle in here and hopefully you'll be very happy."
He smiled at the boy while he spoke and he really hoped it was true. If he had to be honest, he was worried about leaving him with Snape. Not that he doubted the older wizard was capable of looking after him, but he also knew the man was rigid and cold and while mostly fair and very protective, he gave little praise, almost no comfort, and could be a stern disciplinarian. Perhaps not the best match for a vulnerable and timid 7 year-old who'd recently lost his mother.
When Harry finished his tea, he walked over to Soren. The boy got off the couch and he leaned down to give him a long hug while whispering in his ear. "He can be a bit grumpy, but he's a good, honorable man. Just make sure you listen to him and behave yourself, OK? I'll check on you soon."
Soren hugged Harry and didn't want to let go, pleading with him quietly. "Please don't leave me. I want to come with you."
"Sorry kiddo, but you need to stay here with your father." Harry tried to stand up but Soren jumped on him and started sobbing.
"I don't want to stay here! He's mean, I want to come with you!" The boy wailed loudly with his whole heart, pleading not to be left. "Please, please!"
Harry awkwardly tried to put the boy down. "It's going to be OK, Soren, I promise."
"No! Take me with you!"
Soren was in a full-blown meltdown, sobbing and scrambling to keep hold of Harry who felt terrible leaving him. He was gagging on his own cries, the deep sorrow echoing in his chest.
"I'm sorry Soren, I can't take you with me. But you'll be OK here, I promise." Harry could feel his heart wrenching but he knew he had no choice, he had to leave the boy. He looked up at Snape who was staring at both of them, his arms held tightly behind his back and his face marked with its usual mix of boredom and disapproval.
Finally, refusing to see things escalate further, Snape intervened. He walked forward and grabbed Soren's hands away from where he was desperately grabbing onto Harry's clothes.
"Enough! Let go of Mr. Potter this instant, and get control of yourself." Snape kept his voice stern, but he was obviously making a great effort not to escalate things.
Soren just screamed louder as he attempted to collapse onto the floor, Snape still holding onto his arms. "No! I don't want to stay here! I hate you!"
Harry straightened his shirt and readjusted his glasses, looking down sympathetically at the boy.
"Leave now, Mr. Potter, while you can. I am perfectly capable of dealing with an over emotional child. I spent fifteen years doing it for a living. He'll survive."
Snape's words were surprisingly even given the screaming child writhing in his grasp.
"Are you sure you're OK?" Harry asked, unsure if he should leave the boy in this condition. "I can stay for a bit."
Snape merely raised an eyebrow and tilted his head with a look of indignation. "Really, Potter? Go on, your presence here is only making this more difficult. You may use the floo."
Soren screamed out again as he tried to jerk out of Snape's grasp. "No! I don't want to stay here! Don't make me stay here!" He kicked backward at Snape's shin in an effort to escape but the older man quickly dodged him, ignoring the hysterics as Harry walked toward the floo.
"I'll see you in a few days, Soren." He smiled at the boy as he threw the shimmering powder into the fire and disappeared, a reluctant look on his face as he spun into the green flames.
Seeing his only hope at escape slip through the floo, Soren collapsed fully onto the floor in a boneless heap, no longer fighting, just sobbing.
Snape let go of his arms and allowed him to cry it out for several minutes on the ground before he finally spoke. "That's quite enough. I've allowed you to have your little tantrum, now it's time to get off the floor and compose yourself. I refuse to indulge you any longer."
The loud wailing had stopped but Soren was still balled up on the rug crying quietly into his arms, rocking back and forth and refusing to move or acknowledge Snape in any way.
"I mean it. That's enough. If you want to cry, you may do so in your room, I've had quite enough of your hysterics for the day."
Again, Snape's words were met with silence as the boy stayed with his head down, buried in his arms on the ancient Persian carpet, rhythmically moving back and forth in a vain attempt to soothe himself.
It was taking all of his willpower not to lash out at the boy, but he was making an effort not to be cruel. However, his patience was reaching its limit. "Soren, you will obey me right now. If you do not get up from the floor this instant, you will not like what happens next. Get. Up."
The tone in Snape's voice had changed and Soren could tell he was playing with fire, but he felt so powerless over his situation that he dug his heels in and refused to comply, perhaps exerting his only sense of control by ignoring the older wizard.
"Very well, since you're unable to follow instructions, you will spend the rest of the afternoon in your room. And if I hear any further cheek or disrespect, you will do so with a sore backside. Now that's enough."
Snape bent down and effortlessly lifted the boy to his feet. He grabbed a hold of his wrist and took several long strides toward the staircase. To his surprise, Soren didn't fight him, shuffling along behind him, leaning his head back with his eyes closed and still crying audibly.
When they got to the West wing, Snape once again waved his wand and lit the sconces illuminating the corridor, not stopping until he reached the little boy's door on the right. He pulled Soren into the middle of the room, turned to face him and bent down slightly to speak to him.
"You will unpack your things and stay in your room. Quietly. I will come and fetch you when it's time for supper, by which time I hope you will have your emotions under better control. If you cannot get yourself together by then, just know I will not have a single moment of hesitation in putting you over my knee and sending you off to bed for the rest of the night. Test me at your own peril."
Soren choked out a small sob and pulled his arm away from Snape, walking toward one of the bags Tinny had enlarged and left on the floor in front of his bed. He rummaged for a moment before he found what he was looking for, a worn-looking rabbit that he held to his face before hugging to his chest.
Snape was tempted to scold him for so rudely walking away without responding, but he honestly didn't have the energy to deal with him anymore. The years of solitude had done little to extend his patience in general, much less with a small, overly emotional child.
"Unpack your room before supper. You do not have permission to leave here before then, do you understand?"
Soren nodded his head and walked to the bed where he curled up on his side, clutching his rabbit and sobbing into its well-loved fur.
With a roll of his eyes, Snape closed the door and left the boy to cry it out on his own. Is it too early for a firewhiskey? He thought to himself as he made his way back to the parlor, his nerves completely shot and any expectation for a calm transition promptly destroyed.
At 6:30pm, Snape returned to Soren's room to let him know it was time for supper. He normally ate much later, but his goal was to get the boy bathed and in bed at a reasonable hour so he could enjoy the evening to himself.
He opened the door to find Soren, still laying on the bed, staring at the wall with his rabbit in a death-grip.
A quick glance around the room and he could see the boy had at least attempted to unpack his meager possessions.
"I see you've followed my instructions. Very wise. Now if you've calmed down enough, you may come down for dinner."
"Not hungry." Soren mumbled without looking up from the wall.
"I thought I made it clear that we've had enough theatrics for one day. You've sulked the entire afternoon, so now you will stop acting like a toddler and come down and eat. You're thin and malnourished, I will not allow you to starve under my roof."
"Go away. Leave me alone."
Snape could feel the anger rise up in him as he stalked toward the bed. He was tempted to teach the boy a lesson in manners, but he took a deep breath to calm himself. He stood over the bed while he composed himself. "Turn around and look at me."
Several long seconds went by before Snape hardened his voice. "Turn. Around. Right. Now."
Soren finally rolled over toward Snape, his face smooshed into his stuffed rabbit.
Once again Snape took the boy's chin between his finger and thumb, drawing his eyes upward. In a calm but firm voice he continued. "You will do well not to speak to me like that again. I am being exceptionally lenient with you today because I understand you have been through a lot. But I will not tolerate any further disrespect from you. This is the last of my forbearance. Do you understand?"
Soren stared into the deep black eyes and attempted to nod his head.
" Yes, sir " Snape guided, harshly.
"Yes, sir," Soren responded in a whisper.
Releasing his chin, he gave a small nod of his head. "Very well. I will send Tinny up with some food. But this is your only reprieve. Tomorrow you will eat your meals in the dining room. Any further dramatics or refusal to do so and there will be unpleasant consequences. I suggest you heed my warnings. Am I clear?"
Once again Soren nodded his head.
"Pardon?" Snape raised an eyebrow and gave him a dangerous look.
"Yes, sir."
"Lights are out at 8:00pm. You are not to leave your room until morning."
With that pronouncement, Snape turned dramatically to leave, somewhat relieved to be able to dine alone in peace, although his mind was never far from the strange boy upstairs. His son . Even thinking the word left a bitter taste in his mouth.
As soon as he sat down at the table, he sent Tinny upstairs with a plate full of food.
At 8pm, he cast a spell to put out the lights, leaving only a few candles in the hallway. He was tempted to go and check on the boy to make sure he was in bed, but instead he sent Tinny while he sat alone in his study sipping on a nice tawny port as he sat down at his desk to write.
Try as he might, he couldn't focus on a thing. He dreaded waking up to a full day alone with the boy tomorrow.
After a restless night of sleep, Snape awoke feeling drained and despondent. He showered and dressed and sat for a while in his parlor sipping tea before breakfast.
When the Daily Prophet arrived through his floo, he immediately searched for his classified ad. Satisfied it was there (and details printed properly), he said a silent prayer that he would find someone soon.
At quarter past 8, he rose and headed toward the stairs, letting out a deep breath before he opened the door to Soren's room.
The boy was still in his pyjamas, but laying awake, staring at the wall and holding his bunny.
"We will have breakfast in the dining room in fifteen minutes. Wash your face and change into proper clothes before you come downstairs."
Once again, Soren ignored him and just stared at the wall.
"You will look at me and respond with a verbal answer. I refuse to play this petulant little game with you another day. This is your last warning."
Snape really didn't want to resort to threats, which in his experience worked rather well, but he couldn't continue to let the boy act this way.
To his surprise, Soren pushed himself up to a sitting position, looked at him directly in the eyes and responded quietly. "Yes, sir."
With a short nod of his head, Snape replied. "Good. Then I will see you at the table shortly."
When the boy arrived downstairs a few minutes later, Snape was quietly impressed. He had combed his hair and washed his face and had managed to dress himself.
"You may sit there." Snape pointed to a chair on his left and Soren scrambled into it, looking down at his empty plate awaiting further instruction.
Snape tapped the table and several platters of food appeared. Fresh fruits, eggs, bacon, toast. He had asked Tinny to prepare a few more options than normal this morning. He didn't generally eat a large breakfast, but he wanted to make sure the boy ate, he was positively sickly.
"You may take as much as you like, but eat what you take. I detest wastefulness."
The two continued their meal in silence, Snape watching the boy carefully over the rim of his teacup. He ate very little, picking at small portions of food and refusing to look up or engage with Snape in any way. When his plate was mostly empty, he put his hands back in his lap and stayed quiet.
"You barely ate. You should have some more eggs or perhaps a bit more fruit," Snape suggested, concerned the boy was going to waste away to nothing.
"I'm not hungry," Soren whispered quietly.
" Sir. I'm not hungry, SIR. " Snape repeated, reminding the boy how demanded to be addressed.
"I'm not hungry, sir ," the boy repeated, still in a whisper but with the tiniest hint of quiet rage.
"Why? Are you ill?"
The boy shook his head. "No…" he paused for a moment and several tears dropped onto the table and he ran an arm across his eyes. "I miss my mummy." Then he heaved a deep sob and pushed away from the table, running back toward the stairs to his room.
Snape was left in stunned silence. He was slightly irritated that the boy had left the table without asking to be excused, but he wasn't entirely unfeeling. Nonetheless, comforting small children wasn't exactly his forte.
Not knowing what else to do, he finished his breakfast and retreated to his parlor where he continued to sip on his tea while he worried quietly about how to handle things.