STORY - Calling in a Debt - Chapter 9
Disclaimers: Neither the idea of Harry Potter nor the characters belong to me in any way. They are the sole property of JKR. I do not make any money of this story either.
A/N: I loved writing this chapter quite a lot because it was a lot of fun to write. Real life was a bit exhausting though, so the writing had to take a back-seat.
I want to thank all of my betas: Allzugern, Amber, Christine Pierson, darkmoore and munchkinofdoom. I feel so privileged to have all of you to help me with this story. There would be countless mistakes and left out commas in this chapter if it wasn’t for the combined effort of these 5 great women.
To all the wonderful people who reviewed: Thank you!
Back to Chapter 08
Index
Go to Chapter 10
***
Chapter 9 - Ghosts of the Past
***
Severus found himself watching his ex-husband far more intensely than he watched the Sorting. Harry had purposely been seated as far away from the Potions Master as possible; with Albus, Minerva and Hagrid between them, the risk of a fight at the table had been prevented from the start.
At every staff meeting they had had up to now, Severus had felt Albus hand in the removal of any possibility of being alone with Harry. While he was thankful for the meddling, he was also resentful of it. He could deal with his ex-husband on his own.
Harry Potter’s resemblance to his father was especially hard to ignore when Severus could not see his eyes. The sight of Harry caused mixed feelings in him; hatred and yearning for something he could never regain.
”Thinking deep thoughts, Sev?”
Looking up from his scroll, Severus Snape scowled at a broadly smiling James Potter. At the tender age of twelve, the two boys could not have been less similar: reserved, serious and pale Severus Snape and boisterous, self-confident and fit James Potter. Yet, they had become friends on their first Journey to Hogwarts. “I am writing a potions essay. What do you think, Potter?” Severus scowled at his uninvited visitor, but James grimaced, making him smile. “So you could steal yourself away from the others, James?” Even though they had become increasingly close, sometimes Severus just wanted to be alone. Especially on days when the Gryffindors felt the need to harass him again. It was Severus who had told James to do what he must to make sure that the other Gryffindors - or worse, the Slytherins - never found out about their friendship. But lately Severus had been thinking about their problems a lot, and slowly a most disagreeable idea had formed as the only viable option.
Severus watched as James casually leaned against the table across from him. To his amusement James tried to read his essay upside down. They both accepted, that Severus was far more talented with potions than James could ever be. While there was no jealousy on James’ side, he appreciated Severus’ attempt to teach him more than the basics.
“Oh, yes. I gave Sirius and the others the slip.” James frowned as he said that and Severus knew he was thinking of his Gryffindor friends and their unfounded hatred against everything Slytherin. “Don’t worry about Sirius, I’ll make sure he doesn’t play any more practical jokes. Promise.”
Giving James an odd look mixed with thankfulness and trepidation, Severus turned back to his essay, which he used like a shield. “It’s not the practical jokes I’m worried about. James, this thing we have ...”
“You mean our friendship,” James stated patiently when Severus faltered.
Severus kept writing so he did not have to see the look in James’ eyes when what Severus had to say sunk in. “Yes, exactly, our ... friendship, is a problem. If the other Slytherins or Gryffindors ever find out, we will not have a peaceful moment in Hogwarts until we leave school. The logical conclusion would be that we stop being friends.” Relieved that his voice had not betrayed how hard it had been for him to even say it, Severus kept writing, barely noticing what he brought to paper. This friendship meant more to him than he could put into words. Naturally a private person, he sometimes had trouble telling James just how much he meant to the lone Slytherin that Severus was.
“Don’t be silly, Severus. I won’t let anyone else dictate who I’m friends with and who not. Now, how about a game of chess? I’ll even let you play white.”
Immensely relieved at James’ complete dismissal of the matter Severus put away his quill with shaking hands. James had his back turned, allowing Severus to show his gratitude openly, if only for a few precious moments.
“You can finish the essay later, it won’t take me long to crush you,” James joked as he started putting up the chess pieces.
Severus was pulled back to the present by the feel of Harry’s brilliant green eyes upon him. Immediately Severus looked away, fixing his gaze on McGonagall and the first year student she had just called out. The name eluded him at the moment, but there was no doubt he would see the boy sooner or later in class.
For the first time in years Severus was not interested in the new students. The names were just a row of words he found impossible to follow, and the fresh faces varied little from the hopeful new ones every year before this one.
Severus was shaking, his heart was beating so fast that it was painful. “I ... I don’t understand, James. We are friends.” Even to his own ears his voice sounded childish and small.
James laughed and an ugly expression showed on his handsome face, “Friends? How could I be friends with someone like you?”
The words did not hurt nearly as much as the expression on James’ face. The contempt, the arrogance in James’ eyes - he could not bear to look at them anymore. Severus lowered his gaze to the floor. If there was a hell, this was his personal one. The one person he trusted, loved and considered family was breaking his heart. “You said you choose your friends by yourself. I thought -“
James’ voice cut through him like steel, “You thought? You thought we could be friends? You? My friend? God, you are so pathetic. If you think you were good for anything else but helping me with potions, you are wrong. I used you. Get that thought into your thick head and stop deluding yourself. You’re not worthy of friendship. You are nothing.” He turned around and went to the door, then looked back over his shoulder, his hand already on the door-handle, “Don’t bother coming near me again, Snape. I never want to see your stupid face again. You’re not even worthy to lick my boots clean.” Then he was gone.
Severus stood in the middle of their little room, shaking; his teeth were actually clattering and his hands felt like ice-blocks. The whole situation was out of his worst nightmare. Normally it was his grandfather saying those words. To hear them from James crushed his world.
The noises of the children pulled him out of a memory he wished he could forget. Severus had missed the headmaster’s customary speech to ring in the new school year and the children were already eating. Pushing his still empty plate away from him, he scowled at the mass of young, happy people. His appetite had vanished and his hands were shaking.
”You? My friend?”
He could still hear the voice of his “friend”. That was why he had never mourned James Potter. Used like disposable goods, then thrown into the gutter. It still hurt. After all this time it still hurt like a wound that had never healed. Severus forced himself to look at Harry, who seemed engrossed in eating his soup.
” You’re not even worthy of licking my boots clean.”
Involuntarily shaking with mixed emotions, Severus got up so abruptly that his chair almost fell over, then left the hall through the entrance behind the teacher’s table. He could not stand sitting there on display for one more second. James Potter had haunted him all his life, his voice and his expression so much like his grandfather’s that they mixed in his dreams. During his marriage, Severus had forgotten whose son Harry was, but the memories welled up time and time again. Sometimes after years, and the disgust for himself became almost intolerable.
Severus did not see the gazes that followed him from the teacher’s table, like the thoughtful and worried expression on Harry Potter’s face, or the distressed look of Albus Dumbledore.
***
Harry was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with the patience of a man used to sleepless nights. Too tired to get up, but too awake to sleep, he kept turning around, trying to find a comfortable position. His thoughts were in turmoil. The last few weeks had been harder on him than he would ever have thought. To be so close to Severus and yet so far away. Shying away from this painful thought, Harry rolled over again to look at the other wall, which was lit by soft moonlight.
He was unhappy. Seeing Severus hurt and every time his gaze fell on him, he had to swallow around a lump in his throat. The one time Severus had passed him so closely that his cloak had brushed against him, Harry had been close to crying
“What have I done?” he asked himself aloud. He kept telling himself that no amount of regrets and recriminations would change anything between them. Severus did not acknowledge him in any way - sometimes Harry felt like he was invisible to him. Every time Severus passed him by or looked through him rather than at him, Harry felt a stab in his chest. Of course, he had not expected anything else from the proud man, but it still hurt.
Harry did not know what had happened between their amiable parting in the summer and now. The arctic atmosphere between them was almost palpable and the students treaded carefully when the two of them were together. There had been real closeness at one point, none of which had survived over the months of separation.
Restlessly Harry sat up and beat his pillow into a more comfortable form. Exhaustion pulled on him, but sleep would not come, he knew that well enough. He rubbed his face in resignation, but lay back down. It was best to at least lie there and hope for an hour of half-sleep than to get back up at this point.
He knew his desperation to not be alone had driven him into this insanity. There was no telling if he would have done the same thing if he had not talked to Hermione and Ron about the situation, but there was no use in sharing the blame. He had tried, again and again, to break through to Severus, to make him understand what he felt for him, but Harry had been afraid. Scared to lose Severus for good, scared he would laugh at him. Terrified Severus could say no and yet terrified that he could say yes at the same time. Unable to understand himself Harry had fled into taking the choice from the man he felt so drawn to.
Laughing at the insanity that had brought him to his current situation Harry sat up again. Better to laugh than to cry. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was a mental case. The Daily Prophet would have a field day if they ever found out.
It was barely past midnight when he finally crawled out of bed and grabbed a vial from the nightstand. “Cheers,” Harry muttered to himself and downed the potion before starting to move towards his study. He did not bother to get dressed, but stayed in his crumpled boxer shorts. In half an hour or so the sleeping potion would take effect and he would go back to bed. Just as he was about to leave the bed-room to at least try and compose some tests for the next month, his eyes fell on one of the few photos Severus and him together. They had both looked happy at the time, excited about something his sleep-deprived mind could not remember. Staring at the photograph in the half-dark he somehow could not bring himself to leave the room. Tears formed in his eyes and for the first time since they had separated he could cry for what they could have been. For what would now never come to be. A couple, happy, together and in love.
***
“Severus? Could I have a word with you, please?” Harry called after Severus. There had been no opportunity to talk to Severus, who was not only evading him, but was also kept separated from Harry by every other teacher in the school. It was almost amusing to see how the Potions Master chafed under Albus’ manipulations. Harry had not missed the looks of pure resentment Severus kept throwing at Albus every time the headmaster interfered again.
Severus whirled around, “Potter. What is the problem?”
Stung Harry tried to ease his nervousness as memories of similar confrontations between them in the old corridors of Hogwarts surfaced. Severus was unreadable in the dark, his eyes unerringly on Harry’s.
“I would like to do a joint Potions and DADA lesson for the middle of the semester. Just for 7th year students. You taught me that potions are not only useful for battle situations, but necessary. I’d like my pupils to learn that fact here instead of in an actual fight.” Harry could still feel Severus’ gaze on him.
“Voldemort is gone,” Severus stated after a moment. Harry could not detect any emotion at all in the unanimated voice. There was no telling what went on in Severus’ head at the moment and that made Harry even more nervous as he already was.
“There will always be evil, Severus. If it isn’t Voldemort, then it will be someone else.” Harry silently acknowledged Severus’ need to keep so much space between them by pacing away from the Severus. He did not want to create any more discomfort for Severus than he already did just by being at Hogwarts. Illuminated by moonshine, his ex-husband looked incredibly pale and drawn, like he had not slept for a while either, and the elegant hands Harry had come to admire were shaking. Frowning slightly Harry allowed himself to think of his own sleepless nights, but did not know how to approach a subject like that without making Severus jump down his throat. “That is exactly what made Voldemort so dangerous for us, no-one was prepared to defend themselves. It’s important to acknowledge this and teach our students to protect their lives if a situation arises.”
Severus half-turned towards Harry and looked at him with an inscrutable expression on his face. “I’ll consider it,” he finally said, his voice indicating that the conversation was over.
Nodding, Harry smiled at Severus, “Thank you.” At least they were able to work together professionally. That was a relief to Harry as he walked towards his apartment.
***
With an impatient wave of his wand Harry opened the door to his workroom. The trunk that was obediently floating behind him settled to the floor, the restless carvings rippling over the wooden planes as if they enjoyed being back in the light.
Standing there and watching the changing patterns, Harry felt the excitement run hot through his veins. He had only found the trunk by accident in his Vault, hidden in a dark corner behind heaps of knuts. The key had slipped from his fingers while he had been quickly gathering together some money for a new broom, bouncing off the stone floor and ending up in the dark corner, right next to the wooden trunk.
Tentatively touching the wood, he felt movement beneath his fingers. The animated carvings were beautifully detailed; a tiny unicorn galloped in a circle on the lid, rearing up when Harry touched the wood. Other fabled animals seemed to be drawn to the point where his fingertips brushed the wood, and when he moved them, the carvings indeed followed them. Harry itched to finally open the trunk to find out what was hidden inside. Running both hands along the lid, he could not find a handle, but he felt a tingle of magic. The rapid and chaotic movement of writhing bodies beneath his fingers came to a standstill from one moment to the next. Then, as if something had recognised him, the carved image of a dragon separated from the throng and moved to the centre of the wooden pane. Its roar was soundless, but when it stilled there was a handle on its body.
For a moment Harry hesitated, but then his excitement became unbearable and he reached for the wooden handle, pulling the trunk open. The first thing that caught his eye was a photo of his parents. It was a Muggle photo, a static representation of their lives. Still it showed the love between them.
There was a whole stack of photos, which he picked up with reverence and leafed through slowly. Static snapshots of his parents; only a hand-full of them included Harry as a baby, yet they made him feel warm inside.
It was the very last one that touched him most: James Potter and Severus Snape. Staring at the photo in his hands for a timeless moment, he was almost loath to put it away. Harry had always longed for more mementos of his parents, but to find one with his father and his ex-husband smiling at him out of an old picture was eerie. None of the fabled animosity was visible, they both seemed to be happy in each other’s company, even going so far as to have an arm thrown over the shoulders of the other.
Forcing himself to put the photos away, Harry next retrieved a box from the trunk. It was made of a red wood and a comforting smell spread out in the room. He opened it carefully, revealing letters. The magically enhanced interior held hundreds of them. Picking one at random he just read a few lines in amazement before dropping it back in. It had been written to him. By his mother.
Though the desire to start reading immediately was almost overpowering him, he put the box next to the photos with a reverence he had never felt before and delved back into the trunk. He had to take a look at the rest of the items in the trunk before he could allow himself to get sidetracked. The next treasure inside was a small amount of well-wrapped vials with a suspicious, silvery substance within. “Oh my god,” Harry gasped when realisation struck him. Scrambling for the corner which was the home of his pensive he unstopped one of the vials at random and pointed his wand at the opening. A silvery strand came loose from the gently swaying fluid and went with the tip of his wand, leaving the vial half full. Excited Harry led the memory into his empty pensive.
The memory seemed oddly contorted; the walls wobbling slightly and colours swimming. The scenery provoked a feeling of looking through a thick lens that changed its shape again and again, making Harry slightly dizzy. There was a pale young man sitting in an armchair, looking suspiciously like Harry. "Dad." It had to be James Potter, who was staring at the far wall with unfocussed eyes and a withdrawn expression on his face.
Harry felt very disconcerted by the way his father was acting. He had seen this kind of behaviour in Voldemort’s victims during the war so often, that he now dreaded finding out what had happened. Forcing himself to look away from the still figure of his father, he tried to assess his blurred surroundings and came to the conclusion that they were in the headmaster’s office at Hogwarts.
"What happened?"
Turning around quickly at the sound of the distinctive voice, Harry's eyes fell on the younger version of Severus Snape, who showed clear signs of worry and agitation.
"What happened, Headmaster?" Severus repeated, slight hysteria mixed with the worry in his voice.
One of the washed out plots of colour became a likeness of Albus Dumbledore, as if it had been hard for Harry’s father to concentrate on his surroundings. The aged wizard stepped toward Severus and put a calming hand on his shoulders. "James was attacked on his way to Hogwarts by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. We're not entirely sure yet what happened. I came upon them in time to prevent Voldemort from casting the killing curse." He hesitated for a mere moment in his explanation, "He is in a state of shock and has been given a heavy sedative. I have excused him from classes, but I believe that he will still be able to sit exams in two weeks." Albus looked at James Potter briefly before taking Severus aside by his elbow. "I know you and James are close." At the look of alarm that crossed the student's face Albus hurriedly added with a small smile, "No-one else knows, but I have my sources." At that he lowered his voice and continued far more severely, "James was raped."
The effect on Severus was immediate. His face turned a stony mask and the future Potions Master clenched his hands at his sides. Lips pressed so hard together that they became almost bloodless. Severus exhaled slowly, "Who did it?" His voice was a mere hiss, while his eyes stayed fixed on James' face.
Albus stood still for a few heartbeats, and Harry, who had been holding his breath without noticing, felt like there was a block of ice in his stomach. “Voldemort.”
Of course, it had been Harry’s first guess that the Dark Lord himself would have done this. Suddenly the scenery changed around him in a swirl of colours and he found himself in a small room.
The place was dark and Harry could barely make out the figure huddled in the corner in front of him. “Lumos,” Severus’ cultured voice startled Harry and he jerked away from the illumination, a hand going to his wand by reflex before he relaxed. For a moment he had forgotten that he was in the security of his father’s memory.
“What are you doing here?” The open hostility in James’ voice reminded Harry of the memory he had seen in Severus’ pensieve all those years ago. “I want to be alone.”
“You missed breakfast. I was worried.” Severus seemed remarkably unperturbed by the aggression James showed and sat down in front of him, the glowing wand between them. “Because I am your friend.”
The silence that stretched out after that was uncomfortable, even for Harry. What had his father tried to tell him with this memory? Was there even a real reason behind it?
“What am I supposed to do now, Sev? I can’t stand the thought of it all, I can’t do this.” James Potter looked at Severus before he tiredly rubbed a hand over his face. “Why me?”
When the tears started running down James’ face, a queasy feeling settled in the centre of Harry’s stomach, slowly spreading throughout his body until he was completely numb.
“I’ll tell you what you are going to do. You are going to pass all your exams with flying colours tomorrow, then you are going to do what Lily told you and propose to her in the Great Hall the last night we are here. Then you will hide. For your sake, for Lily,” Severus reached out, gently putting a hand on James’ stomach, “and for the little one.”
Harry reeled away from the pair in shock. “No!” His exclamation went unheard as he sat down heavily on the floor, his feet just giving way underneath him. Heart beating so fast it was painful, while his mind refused to work through what he had just heard.
“No-one can know that this child is not yours and Lily’s or your life will be in greater danger than it already is. Listen to your girlfriend, she has an intelligent head on her shoulders,” Severus cautioned in the gentlest tone Harry had ever heard coming from him.
James gripped Severus’ hand, which was still lying on his yet slim belly, “It’s Voldemort’s child, you know that as well as I do. How can I live with that?”
Hearing the words said did not make it easier for Harry, who was just sitting there, unable to move, his hands cold as ice and his heart racing with a panic he had never before experienced. “No, oh God, please no,” he whispered. This was straight out of a nightmare, one he had thankfully never experienced before. He would be waking up anytime now. Anytime.
“Look at me, James. Think of who my grandparents are, and who their associates were. Am I my grandfather?”
“No,” James answered in a subdued voice, “You’re nothing like him.”
Harry did not miss the reassuring smile on Severus’ face, it cut through the hazy shock like sunshine through clouds, “This child will be growing up with you and Lily as his or her parents. Trust me, there is no way this baby will be like him. It’s an innocent, James, a little being that depends on you entirely.”
Sniffing a bit, James finally let go of Severus’ hand and leaned his head against the cool stone wall behind him. “I’m scared.”
“I’m scared, too,” Severus admitted softly.
Wrenching himself out of the memory, Harry broke down entirely, shock and disbelief the major emotions running through him alternatively. It could not be true, he could not be Voldemort’s son. “I have my mother’s eyes,” he whispered, gathering that fact to him like a reassuring blanket. “It was a mistake.” Crying with desperation, he kept repeating “Lily’s eyes” like a mantra until he crawled into the other room and collapsed in bed. His overtaxed mind shut down gratefully.
***
Back to Chapter 08
Index
Go to Chapter 10
A/N: I loved writing this chapter quite a lot because it was a lot of fun to write. Real life was a bit exhausting though, so the writing had to take a back-seat.
I want to thank all of my betas: Allzugern, Amber, Christine Pierson, darkmoore and munchkinofdoom. I feel so privileged to have all of you to help me with this story. There would be countless mistakes and left out commas in this chapter if it wasn’t for the combined effort of these 5 great women.
To all the wonderful people who reviewed: Thank you!
Back to Chapter 08
Index
Go to Chapter 10
***
Chapter 9 - Ghosts of the Past
***
Severus found himself watching his ex-husband far more intensely than he watched the Sorting. Harry had purposely been seated as far away from the Potions Master as possible; with Albus, Minerva and Hagrid between them, the risk of a fight at the table had been prevented from the start.
At every staff meeting they had had up to now, Severus had felt Albus hand in the removal of any possibility of being alone with Harry. While he was thankful for the meddling, he was also resentful of it. He could deal with his ex-husband on his own.
Harry Potter’s resemblance to his father was especially hard to ignore when Severus could not see his eyes. The sight of Harry caused mixed feelings in him; hatred and yearning for something he could never regain.
”Thinking deep thoughts, Sev?”
Looking up from his scroll, Severus Snape scowled at a broadly smiling James Potter. At the tender age of twelve, the two boys could not have been less similar: reserved, serious and pale Severus Snape and boisterous, self-confident and fit James Potter. Yet, they had become friends on their first Journey to Hogwarts. “I am writing a potions essay. What do you think, Potter?” Severus scowled at his uninvited visitor, but James grimaced, making him smile. “So you could steal yourself away from the others, James?” Even though they had become increasingly close, sometimes Severus just wanted to be alone. Especially on days when the Gryffindors felt the need to harass him again. It was Severus who had told James to do what he must to make sure that the other Gryffindors - or worse, the Slytherins - never found out about their friendship. But lately Severus had been thinking about their problems a lot, and slowly a most disagreeable idea had formed as the only viable option.
Severus watched as James casually leaned against the table across from him. To his amusement James tried to read his essay upside down. They both accepted, that Severus was far more talented with potions than James could ever be. While there was no jealousy on James’ side, he appreciated Severus’ attempt to teach him more than the basics.
“Oh, yes. I gave Sirius and the others the slip.” James frowned as he said that and Severus knew he was thinking of his Gryffindor friends and their unfounded hatred against everything Slytherin. “Don’t worry about Sirius, I’ll make sure he doesn’t play any more practical jokes. Promise.”
Giving James an odd look mixed with thankfulness and trepidation, Severus turned back to his essay, which he used like a shield. “It’s not the practical jokes I’m worried about. James, this thing we have ...”
“You mean our friendship,” James stated patiently when Severus faltered.
Severus kept writing so he did not have to see the look in James’ eyes when what Severus had to say sunk in. “Yes, exactly, our ... friendship, is a problem. If the other Slytherins or Gryffindors ever find out, we will not have a peaceful moment in Hogwarts until we leave school. The logical conclusion would be that we stop being friends.” Relieved that his voice had not betrayed how hard it had been for him to even say it, Severus kept writing, barely noticing what he brought to paper. This friendship meant more to him than he could put into words. Naturally a private person, he sometimes had trouble telling James just how much he meant to the lone Slytherin that Severus was.
“Don’t be silly, Severus. I won’t let anyone else dictate who I’m friends with and who not. Now, how about a game of chess? I’ll even let you play white.”
Immensely relieved at James’ complete dismissal of the matter Severus put away his quill with shaking hands. James had his back turned, allowing Severus to show his gratitude openly, if only for a few precious moments.
“You can finish the essay later, it won’t take me long to crush you,” James joked as he started putting up the chess pieces.
Severus was pulled back to the present by the feel of Harry’s brilliant green eyes upon him. Immediately Severus looked away, fixing his gaze on McGonagall and the first year student she had just called out. The name eluded him at the moment, but there was no doubt he would see the boy sooner or later in class.
For the first time in years Severus was not interested in the new students. The names were just a row of words he found impossible to follow, and the fresh faces varied little from the hopeful new ones every year before this one.
Severus was shaking, his heart was beating so fast that it was painful. “I ... I don’t understand, James. We are friends.” Even to his own ears his voice sounded childish and small.
James laughed and an ugly expression showed on his handsome face, “Friends? How could I be friends with someone like you?”
The words did not hurt nearly as much as the expression on James’ face. The contempt, the arrogance in James’ eyes - he could not bear to look at them anymore. Severus lowered his gaze to the floor. If there was a hell, this was his personal one. The one person he trusted, loved and considered family was breaking his heart. “You said you choose your friends by yourself. I thought -“
James’ voice cut through him like steel, “You thought? You thought we could be friends? You? My friend? God, you are so pathetic. If you think you were good for anything else but helping me with potions, you are wrong. I used you. Get that thought into your thick head and stop deluding yourself. You’re not worthy of friendship. You are nothing.” He turned around and went to the door, then looked back over his shoulder, his hand already on the door-handle, “Don’t bother coming near me again, Snape. I never want to see your stupid face again. You’re not even worthy to lick my boots clean.” Then he was gone.
Severus stood in the middle of their little room, shaking; his teeth were actually clattering and his hands felt like ice-blocks. The whole situation was out of his worst nightmare. Normally it was his grandfather saying those words. To hear them from James crushed his world.
The noises of the children pulled him out of a memory he wished he could forget. Severus had missed the headmaster’s customary speech to ring in the new school year and the children were already eating. Pushing his still empty plate away from him, he scowled at the mass of young, happy people. His appetite had vanished and his hands were shaking.
”You? My friend?”
He could still hear the voice of his “friend”. That was why he had never mourned James Potter. Used like disposable goods, then thrown into the gutter. It still hurt. After all this time it still hurt like a wound that had never healed. Severus forced himself to look at Harry, who seemed engrossed in eating his soup.
” You’re not even worthy of licking my boots clean.”
Involuntarily shaking with mixed emotions, Severus got up so abruptly that his chair almost fell over, then left the hall through the entrance behind the teacher’s table. He could not stand sitting there on display for one more second. James Potter had haunted him all his life, his voice and his expression so much like his grandfather’s that they mixed in his dreams. During his marriage, Severus had forgotten whose son Harry was, but the memories welled up time and time again. Sometimes after years, and the disgust for himself became almost intolerable.
Severus did not see the gazes that followed him from the teacher’s table, like the thoughtful and worried expression on Harry Potter’s face, or the distressed look of Albus Dumbledore.
***
Harry was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with the patience of a man used to sleepless nights. Too tired to get up, but too awake to sleep, he kept turning around, trying to find a comfortable position. His thoughts were in turmoil. The last few weeks had been harder on him than he would ever have thought. To be so close to Severus and yet so far away. Shying away from this painful thought, Harry rolled over again to look at the other wall, which was lit by soft moonlight.
He was unhappy. Seeing Severus hurt and every time his gaze fell on him, he had to swallow around a lump in his throat. The one time Severus had passed him so closely that his cloak had brushed against him, Harry had been close to crying
“What have I done?” he asked himself aloud. He kept telling himself that no amount of regrets and recriminations would change anything between them. Severus did not acknowledge him in any way - sometimes Harry felt like he was invisible to him. Every time Severus passed him by or looked through him rather than at him, Harry felt a stab in his chest. Of course, he had not expected anything else from the proud man, but it still hurt.
Harry did not know what had happened between their amiable parting in the summer and now. The arctic atmosphere between them was almost palpable and the students treaded carefully when the two of them were together. There had been real closeness at one point, none of which had survived over the months of separation.
Restlessly Harry sat up and beat his pillow into a more comfortable form. Exhaustion pulled on him, but sleep would not come, he knew that well enough. He rubbed his face in resignation, but lay back down. It was best to at least lie there and hope for an hour of half-sleep than to get back up at this point.
He knew his desperation to not be alone had driven him into this insanity. There was no telling if he would have done the same thing if he had not talked to Hermione and Ron about the situation, but there was no use in sharing the blame. He had tried, again and again, to break through to Severus, to make him understand what he felt for him, but Harry had been afraid. Scared to lose Severus for good, scared he would laugh at him. Terrified Severus could say no and yet terrified that he could say yes at the same time. Unable to understand himself Harry had fled into taking the choice from the man he felt so drawn to.
Laughing at the insanity that had brought him to his current situation Harry sat up again. Better to laugh than to cry. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was a mental case. The Daily Prophet would have a field day if they ever found out.
It was barely past midnight when he finally crawled out of bed and grabbed a vial from the nightstand. “Cheers,” Harry muttered to himself and downed the potion before starting to move towards his study. He did not bother to get dressed, but stayed in his crumpled boxer shorts. In half an hour or so the sleeping potion would take effect and he would go back to bed. Just as he was about to leave the bed-room to at least try and compose some tests for the next month, his eyes fell on one of the few photos Severus and him together. They had both looked happy at the time, excited about something his sleep-deprived mind could not remember. Staring at the photograph in the half-dark he somehow could not bring himself to leave the room. Tears formed in his eyes and for the first time since they had separated he could cry for what they could have been. For what would now never come to be. A couple, happy, together and in love.
***
“Severus? Could I have a word with you, please?” Harry called after Severus. There had been no opportunity to talk to Severus, who was not only evading him, but was also kept separated from Harry by every other teacher in the school. It was almost amusing to see how the Potions Master chafed under Albus’ manipulations. Harry had not missed the looks of pure resentment Severus kept throwing at Albus every time the headmaster interfered again.
Severus whirled around, “Potter. What is the problem?”
Stung Harry tried to ease his nervousness as memories of similar confrontations between them in the old corridors of Hogwarts surfaced. Severus was unreadable in the dark, his eyes unerringly on Harry’s.
“I would like to do a joint Potions and DADA lesson for the middle of the semester. Just for 7th year students. You taught me that potions are not only useful for battle situations, but necessary. I’d like my pupils to learn that fact here instead of in an actual fight.” Harry could still feel Severus’ gaze on him.
“Voldemort is gone,” Severus stated after a moment. Harry could not detect any emotion at all in the unanimated voice. There was no telling what went on in Severus’ head at the moment and that made Harry even more nervous as he already was.
“There will always be evil, Severus. If it isn’t Voldemort, then it will be someone else.” Harry silently acknowledged Severus’ need to keep so much space between them by pacing away from the Severus. He did not want to create any more discomfort for Severus than he already did just by being at Hogwarts. Illuminated by moonshine, his ex-husband looked incredibly pale and drawn, like he had not slept for a while either, and the elegant hands Harry had come to admire were shaking. Frowning slightly Harry allowed himself to think of his own sleepless nights, but did not know how to approach a subject like that without making Severus jump down his throat. “That is exactly what made Voldemort so dangerous for us, no-one was prepared to defend themselves. It’s important to acknowledge this and teach our students to protect their lives if a situation arises.”
Severus half-turned towards Harry and looked at him with an inscrutable expression on his face. “I’ll consider it,” he finally said, his voice indicating that the conversation was over.
Nodding, Harry smiled at Severus, “Thank you.” At least they were able to work together professionally. That was a relief to Harry as he walked towards his apartment.
***
With an impatient wave of his wand Harry opened the door to his workroom. The trunk that was obediently floating behind him settled to the floor, the restless carvings rippling over the wooden planes as if they enjoyed being back in the light.
Standing there and watching the changing patterns, Harry felt the excitement run hot through his veins. He had only found the trunk by accident in his Vault, hidden in a dark corner behind heaps of knuts. The key had slipped from his fingers while he had been quickly gathering together some money for a new broom, bouncing off the stone floor and ending up in the dark corner, right next to the wooden trunk.
Tentatively touching the wood, he felt movement beneath his fingers. The animated carvings were beautifully detailed; a tiny unicorn galloped in a circle on the lid, rearing up when Harry touched the wood. Other fabled animals seemed to be drawn to the point where his fingertips brushed the wood, and when he moved them, the carvings indeed followed them. Harry itched to finally open the trunk to find out what was hidden inside. Running both hands along the lid, he could not find a handle, but he felt a tingle of magic. The rapid and chaotic movement of writhing bodies beneath his fingers came to a standstill from one moment to the next. Then, as if something had recognised him, the carved image of a dragon separated from the throng and moved to the centre of the wooden pane. Its roar was soundless, but when it stilled there was a handle on its body.
For a moment Harry hesitated, but then his excitement became unbearable and he reached for the wooden handle, pulling the trunk open. The first thing that caught his eye was a photo of his parents. It was a Muggle photo, a static representation of their lives. Still it showed the love between them.
There was a whole stack of photos, which he picked up with reverence and leafed through slowly. Static snapshots of his parents; only a hand-full of them included Harry as a baby, yet they made him feel warm inside.
It was the very last one that touched him most: James Potter and Severus Snape. Staring at the photo in his hands for a timeless moment, he was almost loath to put it away. Harry had always longed for more mementos of his parents, but to find one with his father and his ex-husband smiling at him out of an old picture was eerie. None of the fabled animosity was visible, they both seemed to be happy in each other’s company, even going so far as to have an arm thrown over the shoulders of the other.
Forcing himself to put the photos away, Harry next retrieved a box from the trunk. It was made of a red wood and a comforting smell spread out in the room. He opened it carefully, revealing letters. The magically enhanced interior held hundreds of them. Picking one at random he just read a few lines in amazement before dropping it back in. It had been written to him. By his mother.
Though the desire to start reading immediately was almost overpowering him, he put the box next to the photos with a reverence he had never felt before and delved back into the trunk. He had to take a look at the rest of the items in the trunk before he could allow himself to get sidetracked. The next treasure inside was a small amount of well-wrapped vials with a suspicious, silvery substance within. “Oh my god,” Harry gasped when realisation struck him. Scrambling for the corner which was the home of his pensive he unstopped one of the vials at random and pointed his wand at the opening. A silvery strand came loose from the gently swaying fluid and went with the tip of his wand, leaving the vial half full. Excited Harry led the memory into his empty pensive.
The memory seemed oddly contorted; the walls wobbling slightly and colours swimming. The scenery provoked a feeling of looking through a thick lens that changed its shape again and again, making Harry slightly dizzy. There was a pale young man sitting in an armchair, looking suspiciously like Harry. "Dad." It had to be James Potter, who was staring at the far wall with unfocussed eyes and a withdrawn expression on his face.
Harry felt very disconcerted by the way his father was acting. He had seen this kind of behaviour in Voldemort’s victims during the war so often, that he now dreaded finding out what had happened. Forcing himself to look away from the still figure of his father, he tried to assess his blurred surroundings and came to the conclusion that they were in the headmaster’s office at Hogwarts.
"What happened?"
Turning around quickly at the sound of the distinctive voice, Harry's eyes fell on the younger version of Severus Snape, who showed clear signs of worry and agitation.
"What happened, Headmaster?" Severus repeated, slight hysteria mixed with the worry in his voice.
One of the washed out plots of colour became a likeness of Albus Dumbledore, as if it had been hard for Harry’s father to concentrate on his surroundings. The aged wizard stepped toward Severus and put a calming hand on his shoulders. "James was attacked on his way to Hogwarts by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. We're not entirely sure yet what happened. I came upon them in time to prevent Voldemort from casting the killing curse." He hesitated for a mere moment in his explanation, "He is in a state of shock and has been given a heavy sedative. I have excused him from classes, but I believe that he will still be able to sit exams in two weeks." Albus looked at James Potter briefly before taking Severus aside by his elbow. "I know you and James are close." At the look of alarm that crossed the student's face Albus hurriedly added with a small smile, "No-one else knows, but I have my sources." At that he lowered his voice and continued far more severely, "James was raped."
The effect on Severus was immediate. His face turned a stony mask and the future Potions Master clenched his hands at his sides. Lips pressed so hard together that they became almost bloodless. Severus exhaled slowly, "Who did it?" His voice was a mere hiss, while his eyes stayed fixed on James' face.
Albus stood still for a few heartbeats, and Harry, who had been holding his breath without noticing, felt like there was a block of ice in his stomach. “Voldemort.”
Of course, it had been Harry’s first guess that the Dark Lord himself would have done this. Suddenly the scenery changed around him in a swirl of colours and he found himself in a small room.
The place was dark and Harry could barely make out the figure huddled in the corner in front of him. “Lumos,” Severus’ cultured voice startled Harry and he jerked away from the illumination, a hand going to his wand by reflex before he relaxed. For a moment he had forgotten that he was in the security of his father’s memory.
“What are you doing here?” The open hostility in James’ voice reminded Harry of the memory he had seen in Severus’ pensieve all those years ago. “I want to be alone.”
“You missed breakfast. I was worried.” Severus seemed remarkably unperturbed by the aggression James showed and sat down in front of him, the glowing wand between them. “Because I am your friend.”
The silence that stretched out after that was uncomfortable, even for Harry. What had his father tried to tell him with this memory? Was there even a real reason behind it?
“What am I supposed to do now, Sev? I can’t stand the thought of it all, I can’t do this.” James Potter looked at Severus before he tiredly rubbed a hand over his face. “Why me?”
When the tears started running down James’ face, a queasy feeling settled in the centre of Harry’s stomach, slowly spreading throughout his body until he was completely numb.
“I’ll tell you what you are going to do. You are going to pass all your exams with flying colours tomorrow, then you are going to do what Lily told you and propose to her in the Great Hall the last night we are here. Then you will hide. For your sake, for Lily,” Severus reached out, gently putting a hand on James’ stomach, “and for the little one.”
Harry reeled away from the pair in shock. “No!” His exclamation went unheard as he sat down heavily on the floor, his feet just giving way underneath him. Heart beating so fast it was painful, while his mind refused to work through what he had just heard.
“No-one can know that this child is not yours and Lily’s or your life will be in greater danger than it already is. Listen to your girlfriend, she has an intelligent head on her shoulders,” Severus cautioned in the gentlest tone Harry had ever heard coming from him.
James gripped Severus’ hand, which was still lying on his yet slim belly, “It’s Voldemort’s child, you know that as well as I do. How can I live with that?”
Hearing the words said did not make it easier for Harry, who was just sitting there, unable to move, his hands cold as ice and his heart racing with a panic he had never before experienced. “No, oh God, please no,” he whispered. This was straight out of a nightmare, one he had thankfully never experienced before. He would be waking up anytime now. Anytime.
“Look at me, James. Think of who my grandparents are, and who their associates were. Am I my grandfather?”
“No,” James answered in a subdued voice, “You’re nothing like him.”
Harry did not miss the reassuring smile on Severus’ face, it cut through the hazy shock like sunshine through clouds, “This child will be growing up with you and Lily as his or her parents. Trust me, there is no way this baby will be like him. It’s an innocent, James, a little being that depends on you entirely.”
Sniffing a bit, James finally let go of Severus’ hand and leaned his head against the cool stone wall behind him. “I’m scared.”
“I’m scared, too,” Severus admitted softly.
Wrenching himself out of the memory, Harry broke down entirely, shock and disbelief the major emotions running through him alternatively. It could not be true, he could not be Voldemort’s son. “I have my mother’s eyes,” he whispered, gathering that fact to him like a reassuring blanket. “It was a mistake.” Crying with desperation, he kept repeating “Lily’s eyes” like a mantra until he crawled into the other room and collapsed in bed. His overtaxed mind shut down gratefully.
***
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Index
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