May 1st, 1998
Harry fell to his knees beside the dying man, his own fingers joining Snape’s as they scrabbled to staunch the blood spurting out. Widening black eyes focused on his face as Harry leaned closer. Wincing as the abrasions he’d made when he’d bitten his knuckles while watching from the shadows of the Shrieking Shack stung with the movement, Harry curled his fingers around the slender throat, pressing his palms against the jagged tears. He concentrated, his mind focusing his life energy on the struggle against death Snape was engaged in. Summoning his magic desperately, Harry gathered it in his chest. Pushing it out through his hands, Harry allowed it to mingle with the Headmaster’s, just as the blood from his knuckles mixed with the scarlet staining the floor.
Frantically, Harry searched his mind for the healing spells he had learned in his years of schooling by both Hogwarts and Hermione. Spells that would make the magic he was pouring out heal the torn flesh like Snape had healed Draco Malfoy that day in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Fragments surfaced and Harry chanted them blindly as Hermione knelt beside him, her hands fumbling over the black robes as if searching for something.
"Resitituo cruor!" Harry cried out wildly. "Episkey! Sano malum! Vita partum! Sectus…"
“Harry, no!” Hermione shouted, her wand tip now running over Snape’s robes. “I don’t think that was the right spell…ah!”
No matter what Hermione thought, he could feel the edges of the skin underneath his fingers come together and Harry continued to chant the string of Latin under his breath. Reaching past him, she ripped open Snape’s robes, pulling out a silver vial and Harry saw that Snape’s eyes followed it.
“I think that’s it, Hermione!” Harry gasped as Snape struggled to reach up.
Hermione thumbed off the stopper sealing the top and poured the contents into Snape’s open mouth. Soothing his fingertips along the half-healed tears in the wizard’s throat, Harry wasn’t prepared for the strength in the hand that seized the front of his robes and pulled him closer. Those black eyes captured his as Snape attempted to speak.
“No…time! Look… at… me…” Snape whispered hoarsely.
Suddenly, Harry was falling into a swirl of color, snippets of memories moving past him, some spinning rapidly, others floating by at a more leisurely rate. His mother and Snape swinging at a play park as children, as students together at Hogwarts, sharing triumphs, and the pain of loss – Albus Dumbledore eliciting vows of protection, molding and shaping Harry to his advantage, and Snape’s objection, Dumbledore manipulating his own death for the greater good. Harry watched it all, his emotions churning as he discovered how badly he’d misjudged Snape, how they all had misjudged him. The image of the silver doe in the Forest of Dean, the sword of Gryffindor, and the necessity of Harry’s own death had him reeling.
“Harry?” Hermione had a hand on his shoulder and was shaking him roughly. “He’s calling you out again! You’re almost out of time!”
Sitting back on his heels, the familiar weight of the pouch around his neck bounced against his chest as Harry struggled to make sense of what he had just seen. The one image clawing its way to the top was that of Dumbledore calmly admitting to an enraged Snape that Harry had to, and would, sacrifice himself in order to be rid of the Horcrux in his scar. Harry shuddered as he realized that he had no other option but to do just that. Pushing to his feet, Harry disregarded the apprehensive look on Hermione’s face, her hand reaching towards him.
“I have to go, Hermione, please, get Snape to somewhere safe. He’s not the villain we thought; he’s actually the bravest of us all.”
With that, Harry turned and ran towards the doorway. Ignoring the shouted questions from behind him, he grimly began planning for his own death and that of Lord Voldemort.
July 31st, 1998
“Aren’t you ready yet, Harry?”
Ginny’s impatient voice floated up the stairs from the landing. Harry grimaced as he looked at his reflection in the mirror, hating the bottle-green silk dress robes that Mrs. Wesley had insisted he order for this day. Black better suited his mood. Exhausted from the non-stop whirl of celebrations and appearances in the past two months, all Harry really wanted for his birthday was to lock out the world and sleep. No formal balls celebrating the Chosen One’s grand day, no one demanding he smile until his face hurt, and no expectations at all. Harry just wanted the world to leave him alone and let him have a little peace before he went mad.
“Harry!”
Rolling his shoulders in an attempt to lessen the ache between them, Harry took a deep breath and headed down the stairs. Ginny stood waiting for him on the first floor landing, her gold gown shimmering in the torch lights, a perfect foil to her flame-colored hair. Her anxious face immediately smoothed into a soft smile when she saw Harry. Sliding her hands up the front of his robe, she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
“Don’t look so grim, love, you’ll be the center of attention tonight!”
“That,” Harry ground out, “is exactly what I am afraid of.”
Ginny pulled away, her hands trailing down his chest and Harry grabbed them.
“Let’s ditch the Ball, Ginny, and go somewhere quiet,” Harry pleaded. “Just the two of us!”
Ginny looked appalled. “There are three hundred invited guests attending this Ball, Harry, and they expect you to do something special tonight! There’s no way you can’t be there!”
Harry stared at her, dumbfounded. Something special? Like what? Ginny’s face was expectant, as if he should know what she was thinking! Didn’t she realize how much he despised all of this? Not for the first time, he wondered if Ginny loved the allure of being the Boy Who Lived’s girlfriend more than she cared about him. His mind flashed back to the first time he’d met her and the comments her brothers had made then: "She’s been talking about you all summer. " "She’ll want your autograph, Harry…" Idly, Harry wondered if Ginny had ever matured out of that frame of mind, or if she would ever see just Harry under the celebrity façade that had been created around him.
The shrill cry of a baby from the depths of the house on Grimmauld Place brought him out of his thoughts. Ginny still stood in front of him, Harry grasping her wrists. Impatience made her eyes stormy, but her smile was smooth, perfect. Harry dropped her hands and took a step back.
“I’m going to say goodnight to Teddy and then we’ll go,” he told her as he turned away abruptly.
“But, the Ball…”
“I’m sure they will all wait another five minutes for their precious Chosen One!” Harry snapped bitterly as he took the stairs two at a time. Helping Andromeda with his godson had become the highlight of Harry’s life, no matter how disgusting the chore. Little compared with the warmth of a sweet-smelling baby snuggling into your shoulder with absolute trust. Ginny had promised that when they married she would give Harry a child of his own and he was secretly looking forward to that day with greater anticipation than even the marriage.
It was more like twenty minutes later that Harry, Ginny, and her parents Flooed into the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Stepping over to the rebuilt fountain in the lobby, Harry watched with a sinking feeling as a steady flow of grandly dressed witches and wizards exited the bank of Floo hearths and headed towards the Grand Ballroom at the far end. Ginny stood impatiently beside him until Kingsley Shacklebolt’s distinctive bald head appeared just inside the open doors and Arthur Weasley headed towards his old friend and boss. Latching onto Harry’s arm with a firm grip Ginny followed her father and mother, leaving Harry no choice but to walk or look the fool.
The Minister of Magic gave him a jovial greeting in his booming voice, clapping Harry on the back as he guided him towards the revolving throng of people. Soon, Harry’s view dissolved into a nauseating swirl of faces, mostly of people he’d never met before and the ones he knew seemed to flow away from him like leaves caught in a current of water. Just like his life seemed to be spiraling away from him, every decision taken out of his control and his life conforming to the expectations of those who claimed to love him.
Not that he was blameless, Harry knew. He’d relinquished much of the immediate decision making to Molly Weasley in the exhaustive aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts. It had taken several weeks just to work through the epiphany of learning the truth about Severus Snape. Then came the trials and Harry had found enough of himself within him to insist he be allowed to testify on the former headmaster’s behalf. The Minister of Magic, who was now dragging him around the gaudily decorated Ball Room posing for pictures, had finally interceded with the Wizengamot, allowing Harry to address them. Harry had made an impassioned plea that ultimately won Snape a full pardon and an Order of Merlin.
Yet, in the aftermath of his vindication Snape had rejected every request Harry had made to see him, and flatly refused to answer any of the letters Harry had sent. It still twisted in his gut that his mother’s best friend was so embittered even after almost seventeen years, that he refused to speak of her, even to her son. Harry spent hours sitting in Sirius’ old room in the dark, replaying in his mind the memories that Snape had shown him until his head throbbed with pain. It was all he’d ever had of his mother.
Jolted from his thoughts by a ruffled Ginny as she grabbed his arm roughly when she caught up with him and Kingsley, Harry found himself escorted to a table on a raised platform in the center of the room, as if he were a treasure on display. A huge cake in Harry’s likeness, clad in his Hogwarts robes and wand in hand, stood next to the table silently waiting for its moment of glory. Harry shuddered at the image. The meal must have been spectacular the way Ginny savored it, but it was as tasteless as ash in his mouth. Going through the motions, Harry found he was only capable of a few bites before the nervousness that had his stomach churning caused him to choke, his eyes straying to the podium set up next to the cake. Somehow he should have expected that Kingsley would want him to make a speech.
Pushing his potatoes around his plate, Harry jumped when Kingsley cleared his throat loudly as he rose from his chair and cast a "Sonorus" on himself. Not that Minister of Magic Shacklebolt needed any help amplifying his deep voice as it reverberated through the din of the crowded room. The words themselves flowed over Harry as he stared at a spot in a far corner, smiling and nodding at what he hoped were appropriate moments as the crowd cheered and clapped, his stomach twisting more. Ginny leaned closer, coy and demure as she laid her head against his shoulder with an expression of adoration. Cameras flashed.
“…so without any further delay, allow me to present to you our very own Chosen One, Harry Potter!”
Harry’s heart froze in momentary panic as Ginny jumped up, clapping wildly, urging him up. He took a deep breath, pasted the smile back on his face and stood. He could get through this, although at the moment facing his own death at the end of the Elder Wand in Voldemort’s hand seemed to have been easier to do. The podium seemed terribly far away, but he managed to take the steps necessary without falling on his face. Affixing his eyes to a point over the heads of the crowd and casting the "Sonorus", Harry tried to look a mature young man of eighteen.
“Thank you, Minister and good evening. Thank you all for coming to share my birthday with me!” Harry paused for the smattering of applause, his mind searching for something intelligent to say. “I am very grateful to be here in the company of so many familiar faces, brave witches and wizards who stood beside us in the recent war. My only wish is that those who sacrificed so much to ensure our victory could also be here tonight: my parents, my godfather, Albus Dumbledore, those who died at the Battle for Hogwarts, and Severus Snape, who…”
The door at the back of the Ball Room slammed open and the room went instantly silent as the black-clad figure of none other than Severus Snape himself stormed into the room. Robes billowing, the man strode up between the tables towards the platform; his eyes fixed on Harry at he stood watching in shock.
“How endearing,” Snape sneered as he drew closer. “The bloody Boy Who Lived and his adoring fans, all gathered for his birthday. Very touching.”
Harry frowned as the dark eyes swept down the table on the dais. Why in the world would Snape show up tonight? Molly Weasley rose to her feet, a look of concern on her face. Arthur stood beside her, expression mildly apprehensive as Kingsley Shacklebolt watched closely.
“Why don’t you tell them, Potter? Tell them how you left me pregnant and bleeding on the filthy floor of a deserted shack? What would they think of their Chosen One if they knew you had forced this child on me, violated me, and then abandoned me to deal with it on my own?” Snape spoke sharply, the disgust evident in his voice easily carrying through the hushed room. “Where is your Gryffindor honor now?”
Harry could only gape at him as Snape turned on his heel, robes snapping around him as he reversed his steps and disappeared. The crowd erupted in gasps and loud whispers as Molly Weasley fainted into Arthur’s arms, knocking him into the food-laden table. Ginny stormed over and Harry could almost see the hex that flew from the end of her wand to hit him squarely in the face, flinging him into the cake as the room dissolved into chaos. The only one not surprised was Hermione Granger, who shook her head as she led the gobsmacked and cake-splattered Harry from the room and guided him through the Floo to Grimmauld Place.
Severus Snape stumbled uncharacteristically as he stepped out of the Floo and cursed his predicament as he turned to close off the connection. The tattered remnants of the Daily Prophet that had triggered his blind rage still decorated most surfaces in the kitchen, the picture of Harry Potter no longer able to smirk at him from the front page. How dare the imbecile that put him in this situation think he could be off blithely celebrating while Severus was miserable and suffering! His stomach lurched as he made his way to the cupboard, hoping a cup of weak tea would calm it. Severus had had enough retching in the past two weeks to be getting on with, his abdominal muscles were sore with the effort.
According to the healers at St. Mungo’s that afternoon, only a very powerful pulse of magic could have left him impregnated. That and an equally powerful spell would have done the deed. Stunned by the diagnosis, Severus had not noticed the bespectacled blonde who paused in the doorway of the ward, as he was reminded that Harry Bloody Potter had saved his life in part by giving him a stream of his magic. In the recesses of his mind Severus suddenly remembered the mangled Latin chant Potter had stuttered as he tried to heal the wounds in his throat.
“Sweet Merlin, I am pregnant and Harry Potter is the father.” Disbelief and shock had turned his substantial voice to a whisper.
A gasp from the doorway had turned his shock to anger as Severus’ head jerked up to see a smirking Rita Skeeter disappear around the edge of the wall and vanish. By the time Severus had made it home to see the photo in the Prophet, he was incandescent with rage. Not only had he been thrust into an intolerable and unforgivable situation, but now Skeeter would be stealing away any satisfaction Severus might have had of slapping the bloody hero with his sins. Severus’ first thought had been to send a Howler to Potter in the middle of the grand birthday gala. Without a doubt it would have embarrassed the thoughtless brat in front of the entire upper crust of the Wizarding World, but taking that course of action would rob him of the pleasure of watching the shock and disbelief blossom on that perfect face, and seeing the disgust of the Weasley chit who seemed to be forever hanging off his arm and the ensuing bedlam. He would suffer the loss of his privacy this once to strike at Potter before disappearing from all polite society.
Glancing at a haphazardly stacked pile of owl post and scrolls, Severus had flicked his wand upward. A thick envelope of expensive parchment, embossed in gold extracted itself and sailed across the room; the personal invitation to the insolent brat’s birthday Ball landed gently in his hand. Without bothering to change his robes or even comb his hair, Severus had Flooed directly to the Ministry of Magic. The mere sight of the golden invitation with its green-inked vellum grasped in his hand secured him unquestioned passage into the Great Auditorium, from where Severus made his dramatic entrance. Sweet Merlin, it was as if Circe was smiling down on him as he watched the puzzled disbelief flit across the Chosen One’s face! The confrontation had been everything Severus had imagined, the boy physically flinched as he had hurled his charges at him. The Weasley chit was as predictable as always, although the normally unflappable Molly Weasley’s reaction had been an unexpected bonus. The woman was analogous to a dragon when it came to protecting her young, Potter included.
The shrill whistle of the enchanted teapot pulled him from his introspection and Severus reached for his cup, only to find his hand trembling. Using both hands, Severus carefully poured his tea and carried it through to the sitting room where he set it on a side table. Collapsing into the large leather armchair, Severus hissed as his clothing pulled painfully tight across his chest. He threw his head back against the high back of the chair and groaned. Sore nipples, sudden food aversions, an overproduction of saliva, and flatulence were several of the oddities that had developed of late.
The not-so-subtle changes in his body must have affected his rationality as well; Severus berated himself as the euphoria over his triumph faded and disbelief seeped in. The irrationality of his actions, despite the momentary satisfaction at the resulting pandemonium, was rage-driven and completely out of character for a man who prided himself on his intelligence and calm demeanor. Perhaps he could claim to have been under the Imperius Curse, Severus thought as he picked up his cup and blew across the hot surface of the tea. A thread of panic wove its way into his already complicated and turbulent emotions and Severus drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He sipped at the hot tea, willing the mood swing away.
The healer had attempted to warn him of the intensity of the fluctuations his emotions would go through, especially due to the unfamiliar hormones magically introduced into his body. The same healer then told him with a sneer that the magical implantation had been too powerful to have the pregnancy terminated and any attempt to do so could lead to the death of the host. Severus flinched, both at the thought of being host to a parasitic growth and the thought of anyone attempting to force him to abort the pregnancy. Death didn’t frighten him at all, Severus should have died that day in the Shrieking Shack and would have, had Potter not interfered. Instead, the boy’s fumbling but powerful attempts had left behind a lasting reminder of his actions and left Severus with no option but to nurture this child to birth.
His stomach cramped ominously and his mouth filled with saliva, making Severus groan as he lurched to his feet. Harry Bloody Potter would pay dearly for Severus’ discomfort.
Teddy Lupin slept peacefully as his godfather stood silently in the dimness, watching. Harry’s face still throbbed from where Ginny’s hex had struck him and his head pounded from the lecture Hermione had subjected him to. She had researched the words he’d chanted over Snape that day in the Shrieking Shack, had already suspected the likely outcome of his mangled spell, but she yelled at him anyway. After she had finished with the topic of his complete failure at being a wizard, Hermione had crossed her arms over her chest and demanded to know what Harry was going to do to put things right. When he looked at her blankly, still rattled by what had happened, Hermione’s fierce expression had softened and she’d laid a gentle hand on his arm.
“Despite the circumstances, Harry, you’re going to be a father.” She grimaced. “Although I still have a problem imagining Professor Snape in the role of ‘mother’.” Her fingers had tightened. “You will have to make peace with him somehow, Harry, if you want to be part of your child’s life. I’ll look into what Wizard Law says about it for you, but you have to accept that you are not the injured party here.”
Reaching out, Harry brushed his fingers through Teddy’s sandy brown hair, marveling at the thought of having a son of his own. Teddy squirmed, hunching his bottom into the air as he began to suck on his hand. Retrieving the baby’s dummy, Harry leaned down and eased Teddy’s fist out of his mouth before popping the pacifier in. As much as he had come to love his godson, Andromeda had made it clear that she was going to raise him, firmly relegating Harry into a supporting role. He brushed his fingers over the baby’s cheek, tracing a perfect ear with his fingertip. Who wouldn’t want a precious child like this?
Harry’s heart froze in his chest. What if Snape really hated that he was pregnant? What if he truly did believe that Harry had violated him, magically raped him as Hermione had explained it? What if Snape chose to have an abortion like some Muggle women did? In that moment of sudden panic, Harry knew he would do anything to ensure the safety of his unborn child. He knew that finding Snape and convincing him of his sincerity would be as great a task as destroying the Horcruxes had been. Swallowing the bile rising in his throat, Harry took a deep breath. Severus Snape might absolutely loathe him, but perhaps he could convince the man that his mum would have wanted him to help care for her grandchild.
The next several days were spent writing and re-writing a letter of apology and trying to find out where Snape had disappeared to. When Harry appealed to the headmistress, Professor McGonagall was able to provide the information that Snape had been Albus Dumbledore’s sole heir and his exoneration had forced both the Ministry and Gringotts to release all the vaults and properties they held. She mentioned there had been a house outside Godric’s Hollow, a cottage somewhere on the coast of Wales and enough money to live comfortably. The Potions master wouldn’t need any of the money Harry had planned to offer. Her face had softened when Harry wasn’t able to hide his disappointment.
“Severus was always a proud man, Potter, and I must tell you that he would never have taken any money from you, despite the circumstances. Your only hope is to use your tenacity and as much patience as you can muster.” She gestured at the Daily Prophet that lay discarded on the corner of her desk, the picture on the front page showing a tearful Ginny Weasley. “And the Severus I know would never willingly be a part of this drama!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Harry muttered, thanking the elderly witch for her help before heading back to Grimmauld Place.
Hermione was grim-faced the next afternoon after a day of research at the Ministry. “It’s worse that I suspected, Harry. In light of the circumstances, you will have almost no parental rights to this child. Professor Snape is bound by law to acknowledge that you are the father and notify you if there are health concerns during the child’s life. Otherwise, any further involvement will be strictly up to him.”
Even though he’d expected it, Harry felt his shoulders slump further at his best friend’s words. They capped a day that had started with a visit from Molly Weasley and a sullen Ginny. Ginny was certainly more in character than the weeping version that had graced the front of the Prophet the day before, Harry thought uncharitably as he ushered them in. Mrs. Weasley’s disappointment had cut deeply as she gently launched into an explanation to Harry that his sexual preferences were nothing to be ashamed of and that he could have told her about his feelings for Snape without involving Ginny, who’d had such high hopes. Ginny in turn raked his face with angry eyes, seeming to take in with glee the vividly colored bruise that still decorated his cheek, the one that Harry had refused to let anyone to heal.
Letting the Weasley matriarch’s words flow over him, Harry rubbed the damp palms of his hands over his denim-clad thighs, the sudden mental image of cool, slender fingers stroking his skin, making his body heat. These were the dreams he had in the deepest part of the night, intermixed with the nightmares that continued to plague him. Harry shuddered as other, more erotic fantasies burst into his mind. Dark hair and eyes now haunted his daytime as they had long haunted his nights. He’d thought his old crush on Cho Chang was responsible, but he was learning otherwise. Flushed and embarrassed, Harry had ushered the witches out as soon as was polite, assuring Mrs. Weasley that he would be around soon to let them know how things were going with Snape.
Determined at least to make Snape read his apology, Harry borrowed Andromeda Tonks’ large barn owl to send his letter off the next morning. He had no illusions about receiving a reply; the best Harry could hope for was that Snape would at least read the note before he hit it with an Incendio.
Packing a rucksack that Hermione had charmed for him, Harry prepared for the next step in his campaign to force Severus Snape to listen to him. A trip to Diagon Alley and Gringotts finalized his back-up plan and Harry took advantage of the opportunity to do some shopping. Unable to resist going into Gambol and Japes to look at the selection of toys they had added to bolster their sales, Harry was drawn to a soft toy of a Hungarian Horntail, its black scales and bronze horns perfect copies of the one Harry had faced during the Triwizard Tournament. A stop at Eeylops Emporium to look for a post owl was painful; Hedwig’s death was an ache he’d not gotten over. A small Scops owl, dove gray with black and white markings, twittered softly at him from a perch atop a small cage.
Fluttering down to land softly on Harry’s shoulder, the owl, which was only half the size Hedwig had been, tugged gently on a tuft of his hair. With a soft laugh that eased the tightness in his chest, Harry tentatively reached up to stroke the downy feathers. The shopkeeper hurried over, wringing his hands.
“My apologies, Mr. Potter, let me take this owlet, he is too young to be of satisfactory service to you. Definitely not a suitable choice.”
Harry smiled at the flustered man, even as the little owl’s feathers ruffled. “I did unexpected things when I was very young, sir. I think this little one will be just fine.”
“But I have a large selection of fine snowy owls…”
Narrowing his eyes, Harry interrupted the pudgy man in a polite but firm voice. “I said I would like this one, please.”
Counting out the Galleons for the young owl, a large cage, and the other things he would need, Harry arranged for them to be delivered to Grimmauld Place. With his new familiar perched on his shoulder, Harry stepped out into Diagon Alley where he found a small crowd had gathered. Pasting a smile on his face, Harry clenched his jaw as the people began to whisper and point at him. He tried to extract himself quietly from the growing throng, the young owl hooting nervously from his shoulder. As people pressed closer, the whispers grew and became questions thrown at him from the heart of the gathering. When a flash went off, Harry realized grimly that the press had arrived.
“Is it true that you had an illicit relationship with Severus Snape while you were a student at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter?”
“Hey Harry, is that the black eye Ginevra Weasley claims to have given you when she discovered you had cheated on her?”
“When did you discover you were gay, Mr. Potter?”
Keeping his head down, Harry tried to ignore the anger he felt welling up inside him. Snape would never speak to him if he thought Harry had anything to do with the press reports. He knew he had to get out of here before he lost his temper. Taking the owlet off his shoulder, Harry whispered the address of his London townhouse and tossed the bird into the air. Turning around, Harry raised a hand and the crowd fell silent as he glared at them.
“Professor Snape never acted inappropriately while I was at Hogwarts; his time was better used in trying to win a war! The man is one of the bravest I have ever met and you can lay whatever blame you like at my feet, but leave Professor Snape out of it. He is a hero.”
With that, Harry Apparated into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place with an angry crack. Kreacher turned from the stove and bowed, the golden locket around his neck brushing the immaculately clean floor. The house-elf had been polite enough to Sirius’ cousin when Harry invited her and the baby to move in, but he had really become enamored of little Teddy, eagerly helping out with the baby to the greatest extent Andromeda would allow.
“Is Master Harry needing Kreacher to help him?”
“Only if you can find Severus Snape and convince him to listen to me!” Harry snapped curtly, before stopping and taking a deep breath. He turned away, getting his anger and irritation under control before turning back to the ancient house-elf. Kreacher looked up at him with watery eyes as he shifted from foot to foot and wrung his hands; it was as close to punishing himself as Kreacher ever got.
“I’m sorry, Kreacher, I didn’t mean to take my frustration out on you,” Harry told him quietly, before heading up the stairs to look for the owlet.
Swallowing convulsively to keep the meager contents of his stomach in place, Severus banished the kippers in front of him. A wave of his hand cleared the air of the smell that had sent his stomach rolling, replacing it with the more appeasing scent of fresh lavender. Hunching his shoulders, Severus picked at the plain eggs and dry toast in front of him. The parasitic growth residing within him was now dictating what he was allowed to eat! Was nothing in this resurrected life his to choose?
Scowling, Severus pushed the plate away from him and stood up, ignoring the wave of dizziness that made both the room and his head swim. He refused to let this…situation…govern his life! There were ingredients to gather, potions he needed to brew, research that needed to be done and this pregnancy was not going to stand in the way. Wearily, Severus headed for his office where he’d left the latest delivery of asphodel that required preparation. He needed to brew a batch of Pepper-up Potion to cut through this fatigue that had plagued him of late.
A ball of wadded-up parchment on the floor caught his eyes and with a sigh, Severus Summoned it to him. The apology in itself had surprised him, but Potter’s willingness to take responsibility for his actions, denoting a level of maturity that he would not have attributed to a Potter, had intrigued him. The blasted boy was certainly not acting as expected, Severus thought as his eyes scanned the painstakingly neat printing. Potter was an arrogant, spoilt brat; his reaction should have been one of indignation and scrambling to distance himself from the whole mess. He should have been rushing to seek favor from the Weasley chit, not wasting his time championing his former tormentor.
A line in the letter that he had missed during his first hurried scan through the missive jumped out at him:
I think my mum would have been delighted to know her best friend was the father of her grandchild.
Severus froze, his chest tightening as he thought of Lily Evans, imagining her green eyes laughing up at him as they had so many times when they were young. She would have teased him unmercifully for his suffering, but Lily would also have been the first to rub his back as he retched miserably into a pot each morning. Realization struck him like an epiphany: the child growing within him was part of his beloved Lily Evans. Severus stumbled and steadied himself on the edge of his desk as his mind reeled, his emotions fluctuating instantly. Lily. He would have a part of his Lily to love and cherish, but could he learn to love again? Could he care for the baby by himself?
Trembling, Severus sat heavily in his chair as the melancholy that had dogged him of late welled up inside him. Lily had been his best friend, her loyalty never wavering until with his teenaged arrogance, he had pushed her away. Was this the chance he’d longed for, to be able to right that wrong? Severus tried to picture his friend’s face, annoyed when Harry’s features kept imposing themselves over Lily’s loveliness. And for the first time, he saw that the boy actually resembled his mother in more than just the brilliant eyes. Would this child share those spectacular eyes? Lily’s giving nature and fiery spirit or the boy’s annoying tenacity? Another wave of emotion swept through him and an ache blossomed in his chest, as one hand crept down to lie on his abdomen. The sadness he felt tonight was every bit as sharp as it had been the day Lily had died.
Harry Potter stomped down the stairs, frustration and fear eating at him. It had been almost two weeks since his birthday and he’d still not been able to locate Severus Snape. Ten days in which the former headmaster could have terminated the pregnancy or lost the baby to miscarriage! A glance into the ceiling-to-floor mirror that decorated the wall of the second floor landing showed his hair was even wilder than usual, and the black circles under his eyes stood out against his tired, pale face. He paused to rub his hand over his face.
A soft hoot from below told him that Thoth was back from his night of learning to hunt with Andromeda’s owl. The two birds had become inseparable since Harry had brought the young owl home. Brownie seemed to think it was his duty to show the owlet how a proper post owl should behave. Thoth in turn seemed an eager student, his antics managing to provide Harry with an occasional infrequent smile and even rarer laugh. The young owl had been able to carry mail to Hermione at the London flat she shared with Ron and find his way back.
It had been this extraordinary ability in post owls that Harry had tried to take advantage of just three days before. After a week with no response from the taciturn former professor, Harry had written another letter, a cautiously worded inquiry after Snape’s health which sought permission for Harry to come and speak to him. Giving the letter to the barn owl and instructing Thoth to go with him, Harry slipped on his Invisibility Cloak and followed on his broom. After hours of flying high over the English countryside, passing through a summer squall where he had to dodge lightening, Harry had finally lost the owls as they disappeared into a thicket of trees.
A Fidelius Charm, Harry realized suddenly with a sinking feeling as the owls reappeared moments later. How could he not have thought of that? His chest tightened as he silently raged, angry at himself for being so stupid and angrier still when he felt the hot prickle of frustrated tears. He should have known that Snape’s home would have every protection on it, ones Albus Dumbledore himself would have set into place. Feeling like the very inept idiot that Snape had always accused him of being, Harry turned his broom to begin the long journey back to London, which gave him ample time to berate himself for his own foolhardiness. Severus Snape would never allow himself to be found so easily, no matter that Harry’s intentions were honorable; there were too many people who didn’t believe the former professor a hero.
It had been the ensuing three nights that had tormented Harry. During the day he was able to keep himself busy helping Andromeda with Teddy or cleaning up when Kreacher wasn’t hovering about him. The nights brought nightmares of Snape standing over him, screaming accusations at him, alternately telling Harry that he would never see his child or coldly announcing he’d rid himself of the problem. The two books Hermione had sent him on the intricacies of male pregnancies, one with a large section on magical impregnation, were the only things keeping him sane.
Glancing at himself again in the mirror, Harry hoped for the child’s sake that it would inherit Snape’s smooth, straight hair and Harry’s nose, but firmly pushed from his mind the image that brought up. At this point in time, Harry had little hope of ever being fortunate enough to see the face of this child and the tightness that knotted in his chest at the thought was painful. Closing his eyes, Harry took a deep breath. He’d do just about anything to simply ensure that the child was born, including offering to carry the baby to term if they could do a fetal transfer before twelve weeks. It seemed he’d never get the chance at that either.
Crack!
Kreacher stood in front of him, wringing his hands and Harry bit back a sigh. The last thing he needed was another battle between the house-elf and Andromeda or something else to go wrong. The tension in the household had been rising as Harry became increasingly frustrated and depressed over his situation.
“What is it, Kreacher?”
The watery gaze flicked up at his face for an instant and then fell back to the floor.
“Kreacher is doing as Master Harry instructed and is finding Headmaster Snape.”
Everything inside him froze and Harry could only stare at the ancient house-elf’s gnarled fingers as Kreacher wrung his hands.
“Headmaster Snape is letting Kreacher to help him as he is being sick but he is not allowing Kreacher to tell Master Harry.”
Irritation warred with relief as Harry found that he could breathe again.
“But this morning Headmaster Snape is not waking up from his sick time and Kreacher is afraid…”
Harry seized the house-elf’s arm without conscious thought; the image of Snape’s prone and bleeding body superimposing itself across his fears. “Take me to him, Kreacher, please? I need to help him!” Harry pleaded as Kreacher looked up and nodded once before snapping his fingers.
The first thing that Harry noticed as he appeared in the dimly lit room was that it reeked of vomit. Adrenaline exploded within him as he turned slowly and saw Severus Snape sprawled facedown on the floor of what appeared to be the loo. A single torch reflected in the pool of sick next to the toilet. Harry banished the vomit with a flick of his wand as he fell to his knees. Turning the older man over, Harry couldn’t help but gasp at the gauntness of the pale, pinched face. Greasy, lank hair fell across it and Harry carefully brushed it back as he leaned closer. Pressing his hand against Snape’s chest, he was relieved to feel warmth bleeding through the thin nightshirt and the steady beat of his heart. A small measure of relief took the edge off his concern.
“Kreacher is trying to wake Headmaster Snape, but…”
“You did fine, Kreacher,” Harry muttered as he set his wand aside and ran his hands lightly along Snape’s body, looking for any obvious injuries. “I can look after the Headmaster now that I am here. Could you please light the torches for me?”
“Yes, Master Harry.” Kreacher disappeared into the room behind Harry.
Retrieving his wand, Harry stood and levitated the unconscious man out of the bathroom and into the attached bedroom where Kreacher stood by a large four-poster, smoothing the obviously fresh bedding. Harry smiled his thanks. The flickering light seemed to accentuate the weight Snape had lost since Harry had seen him last and there was an unhealthy gray tinge to his skin. Glancing up, Harry could now see they were in a sizable bedchamber with several large windows covered with heavy curtains.
“I need some warm water and a flannel, Kreacher,” Harry told him as he moved to pull back the curtains. “Then, please go to Hogwarts and ask Madam Pomfrey to come quickly.”
Sunlight filled the bedroom, illuminating the white walls and bringing the warm wood of the furniture to life. The older man’s profile was even sharper than Harry remembered. He knew Snape would be disgusted by his own weakness, furious that Harry had seen him so vulnerable. A deep bowl appeared on the bedside table with a flannel draped over the side. Harry immediately dipped it into the warm water. As gently as he could, Harry began to clean off the lean face, silently counting each breath Snape took. Working downwards across the stubble-covered cheeks and chin, he glanced down the thin form and could almost envision a small, rounded bulge at Snape’s waist.
“Harry Potter? What is going on here?” Poppy Pomfrey’s strident voice snapped him out of his thoughts as she brushed him aside. “Severus Snape! I should have known you would be stubborn and ignore everything your healer told you!”
Scrambling to get out of the matron’s way, Harry moved around to the foot of the bed, listening avidly to the lecture the unconscious man was receiving.
“You were told to make sure you ate, Severus! Little meals several times a day, but no, you refuse to give up thirty-nine years of habit and this is what happens: dehydrated, exhausted, underweight and unconscious! Are you completely satisfied now?”
Harry cringed, briefly glad the sardonic wizard was still unconscious and unable to respond. The mediwitch fairly crackled with angry magic as she worked on Snape. Several potions were poured down the man’s throat as the woman’s wand continued to move over the supine form. All the while Madam Pomfrey continued to scold Snape for his ability to take care of himself or rather, his lack of that ability and Harry felt it wiser to stay silent at the end of the bed.
“I don’t know what has been going through your head, Severus Snape, whether you are determined to kill yourself or the baby you are carrying, but rest assured I will not stand…”
Harry’s chest tightened at the offhand statement and he wasn’t able to stifle the gasp it wrenched from him. The matron’s head snapped towards him, her fierce expression softening as she focused on him, but Harry was too shocked to do anything but stare back.
“Oh Potter! I forgot you were here.” Madam Pomfrey straightened as she cast another unfamiliar spell on Snape. “Don’t fret, Potter, both Severus and the baby will be fine.”
“I know this is entirely my fault, Madam Pomfrey.” Harry managed to push the words out past the painful lump in his throat. “I’d do anything to make it right! I’ll carry the baby myself if the professor will let me.” He knew his voice held a pleading edge, but Harry didn’t care, this was too important.
The mediwitch sighed as her hands straightened the bedding carefully across Snape’s chest and cast what Harry recognized as a monitoring spell. With a flick of her wand, the curtains closed, throwing the room into shadow again and the witch gestured for Harry to follow her. With a feeling of uncertainty, Harry looked down at his former professor before reluctantly trailing behind the matron. He was relieved when she left the bedroom door open and led him out into an airy, high-ceilinged corridor overlooking a large staircase. Harry had little time to look around; apprehension was a hard, painful knot in the center of his chest.
Following the witch to a large open kitchen, Harry slumped into the chair that Madam Pomfrey indicated. Warm sunshine flowed in through the large windows, and the honey-colored wooden cabinets and furniture were welcoming, but his thoughts were too preoccupied to give his surroundings much thought. Snape hated him. He hated what Harry had done to him but was it so much that he would rather die than carry their child to term? In his research Harry had learned that a male pregnancy could be very stressful on the body, and Snape was thirty-nine years old, according to what the mediwitch said. While not old for a wizard who could easily live to more than one hundred years, Harry recognized that the past year had not been kind to the former headmaster, and he worried about Snape’s physical strength. That the pregnancy might put his life in jeopardy was something that Harry hadn’t thought of and dread joined the ball of apprehension lodged in the center of his chest.
“Here, Potter, drink this.”
Madam Pomfrey set a cup of milky tea in front of him and Harry reached for it automatically. The witch sat opposite him, her face stern as her eyes studied Harry’s face. Harry met them briefly before letting his own gaze drop back to the teacup in his hand. There was an audible sigh from across the table.
“I didn’t mean to imply that Severus was actually attempting to do harm to himself, Potter, simply taking advantage of his unconscious state to berate him without suffering his acid tongue.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and Harry glanced up. “Yeah, that I can understand, but will carrying the baby really be dangerous for Professor Snape?”
A time-worn hand stilled the restless motion of Harry’s fingers on his cup and he looked up. Dark brown eyes watched him intently and Harry had to stop himself from squirming under the scrutiny.
“Your Professor Snape will be fine, Mr. Potter. He’s a strong young man, but he must take care of himself in order to successfully carry this baby to term.” The mediwitch watched his face carefully as she said, “I don’t think a fetal transfer is advisable at this stage of the pregnancy, nor do I believe that Severus would allow you to do so.”
His entire body seemed to sag, but Harry held his head high. “I…I was just hoping…”
The warm hand patted his. “The potion I just gave him will make him sleep for the next forty-eight hours. Then I am going to confine Severus to bed for the next week, and while I know he wouldn’t normally tolerate you as a carer, I don’t plan to give him any choice in the matter. It is you or St. Mungo’s.”
Harry started to shake his head, but the witch silenced him with a fierce look.
“That gives you a week to show him that you are mature enough to continue, Potter. I would suggest you focus on Severus’ comfort, make him appreciate that you take care of the things he normally wouldn’t get, so that he doesn’t want to throw you out.”
Madam Pomfrey sat back in her chair and picked up her tea. Taking a sip, she studied him over the rim of her cup.
“When a person is pregnant, they often experience discomfort and pain, their back hurts, hands and ankles swell, and the like. Someone who wanted to make himself indispensable would cater to easing those discomforts, such as preparing foot baths for swollen feet and ankles or rubbing cream into stretching skin.”
Nodding, Harry considered her words as he took a sip of tepid tea. Harry knew he could take care of Snape, pamper him even, if Harry could just keep his temper under control and not let the man’s sharp tongue bait him. A kernel of hope blossomed in the middle of the knot in his chest.
“I’m sure I can take care of him, Madam Pomfrey, if he will let me.”
A look came into the matron’s eyes and she gave him a small smile. “Don’t give him a choice, my boy. Start doing things while he is still unconscious and just don’t stop when he wakes up. Be prepared for his foul mood, as Severus won’t be pleased to find you here, but don’t leave or the Fidelius Charm will prevent you coming back. I’m sure that house-elf of yours can bring you what you might need.”
Yes, Harry thought, Kreacher could get him some clothing and whatever food he might require. He certainly wasn’t going to presume that Snape would willingly feed him. There were also a couple of simple soups that Snape might like; Aunt Petunia had taught him to make them whenever Dudley was sick. Glancing up, Harry looked around the large, open kitchen for the first time. This place wasn’t exactly what he’d pictured Snape living in.
“This house was Albus Dumbledore’s home,” Madam Pomfrey said quietly, still watching him intently. “Severus was his sole heir.”
Swallowing hard, Harry again nodded. He didn’t want to delve into those feelings with his emotions already so raw. There were still too many conflicting feelings dredged up when he thought of the powerful wizard, especially with what he had learned from Snape’s memories. Part of him wondered what Dumbledore would think of his latest magical blunder.
“Harry,” the mediwitch drew his focus back. “You have witnessed that Dark magic can be manipulated by the intent of a powerful wizard. In a similar way Light magic can respond to hidden feelings and desires when cast by a powerful witch or wizard. The incantations you used to save Severus Snape could be repeated a thousand times by you or someone else without having the same results.” Her smile widened. “Your magic may be very powerful, Harry, but there had to be something deeper, something that welcomed it in order to allow this baby to have been magically conceived.”
Harry sat stunned as Poppy Pomfrey stood, clearing away the tea things with a flick of her wand. Was she saying that somehow Snape wanted to have a child or did Snape have some kind of well-hidden affection for Harry that had allowed the magic to create a baby? Neither explanation seemed plausible to him, but it was always possible that Snape wanted an heir and maybe the magic had sensed that.
“Remember Mr. Potter, patience! Severus should sleep at least forty-eight hours and you’ll need to care for him by hand, exposing him to spells at this stage of pregnancy might affect the fetus.”
Pausing only to pat his shoulder reassuringly, the mediwitch Flooed back to Hogwarts leaving Harry feeling slightly bemused and not a little apprehensive. With a sigh, Harry pushed back from the table. It was time to pull himself together and start acting like someone who was serious about being a parent. It didn’t help that he was scared to death.
Severus floated in a cocoon of warmth, the fatigue he’d lived with over the past weeks blissfully absent. For a moment Severus struggled to open his eyes, but a soft voice soothed him. Gentle but firm hands settled him back on the pillow and warm fingers brushed his hair back from his face. The caring that Severus sensed in the brief touches was something he’d experienced only occasionally in his life, the last time when Lily Evans was his best friend.
Oddly reassured, Severus succumbed to sleep again, but this time he rested easier because he knew there was someone watching over him.
Harry Potter set the book of household spells to the side and prodded the flannel with his wand as he whispered the incantation. The water in both the washing and rinsing pans was warmed and now he’d charmed the flannel to stay warm as well. Giving Severus Snape a bath was a daunting prospect, but it had been one of the things Madam Pomfrey had told him needed to be done. The room was warm, light filtered in through the carefully positioned curtains. Harry took a deep breath. You couldn’t mess up a sponge bath, could you?
Carefully, Harry pulled the bedding back, heat filling his face as it became apparent that Snape was naked beneath. His eyes were drawn immediately to Snape’s abdomen, which he was disappointed to see was still flat. With gentle hands, Harry grasped a thin shoulder and hip, rolling the older man towards him. Leaning Snape against him, Harry leaned over and quickly washed the broad shoulders and down the plane of Snape’s back. Dipping the flannel in the clear, warm water, Harry rinsed the pale skin, his fingers lingering on the indentations of the spine. Snape’s skin was surprisingly soft and supple.
Shifting guiltily, Harry quickly washed Snape’s firm buttocks and the back of his thighs. As gently as possible he rinsed off the soap, gingerly drawing the edge of the flannel between the cheeks of Snape’s arse while steadfastly refusing to look at where his fingers were. His body felt flushed and his hands jittery as he dried off the damp skin and eased Snape onto his back. He drew an arm across his forehead, not surprised to find it sweaty. Rinsing the flannel, Harry turned back towards Snape only to stop suddenly. Rising out of a nest of tight dark curls was a long, thick cock, hard and pointing right at him. Harry’s body pulsed in a way it had never done before. He swallowed thickly.
Steadfastly ignoring both the erect penis and his own bodily reactions, Harry washed and rinsed the chest with its dusting of hair across the center, working down along Snape’s ribcage. Harry couldn’t resist resting his hand on the belly for a moment, imagining that the fetus could sense his presence.
“Hello, little one,” Harry whispered while his fingers caressed the taut skin.
Snape shifted restlessly and Harry quickly resumed his cleaning and rinsing. Tentatively he grasped the stiff cock and was trying to use his hand to wash it when Snape gasped and thrust his hips up. The motion pushed the cock further into his hand and Harry instinctively tightened his grasp. A low moan escaped Snape and he thrust again. Harry found himself fascinated as he watched the foreskin move up around the deep red tip. Moving his hand in tandem with Snape’s hips, Harry watched, mesmerized, feeling the slide of skin against the hardness of the cock. His own prick pressed hotly against his jeans, harder than Harry could ever remember.
Suddenly Snape gasped, arching his back as he spurted come over Harry’s hand and his freshly cleaned abdomen. Harry stared at the white streaks, mortified at what he’d done to an unconscious man. Quickly he cleaned Snape again, finishing the bath and backing out of the bedroom with the two bowls of water. Methodically Harry tidied up the items he’d used before making his way to the sitting room adjacent to Snape’s bedroom. He slumped onto the couch he’d slept on the night before, appalled at his behavior. Even more appalling was the fact that his cock was still hard and throbbing as Harry remembered the feel of holding Snape in his hand.
Giving in, Harry opened his jeans, pushing both jeans and pants down to his knees. Grasping his cock, Harry threw his head back as he squeezed, using his thumb to sweep across the sensitive head. The image of Severus Snape, thrusting into Harry’s hand appeared behind his closed eyelids and he groaned. Sweet Merlin, had he always been gay or was it just Snape who seemed to fascinate him? Did it matter now, really, as the man was going to kill him as soon as he woke up and found out that Harry had touched him that way? Still the image enflamed him for some reason and it took only an embarrassing two hard pulls to bring himself off, fanatisizing about Snape’s prick as he did so.
Cleaning himself up with a murmured charm, Harry leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. The whooshing sound of the Floo activating made him groan and he didn’t even lift his head as he heard someone step through.
“Potter? What have you done now?” Poppy Pomfrey’s voice was stern as she came to stand beside him.
Harry could feel the blush start in his cheeks as he lifted his head and it took every ounce of Gryffindor courage to meet the dark eyes. “I was giving Snape a sponge bath and, well, he seemed to, uh, like the bath, uh, a lot, and then…”
The heat spread down his neck and across his chest as the mediwitch nodded knowingly. Harry could have sworn her lips twitched and he took a breath to continue just as she took mercy on him.
“I trust you saw it through to completion, Potter,” she said matter-of-factly and Harry could only stare and nod jerkily. “Excellent, that will make Severus a bit mellower, I would think.”
Harry could only continue to stare, his face still hot with embarrassment. The matron made an impatient sound and gestured to the pregnancy books Harry had stacked beside the couch.
“I thought you had done your research, Potter! Arousal is to be expected when giving a man, even an unconscious one, a bath. It is a normal and natural reaction to the skin being stroked in a pleasing manner.”
“But…”
Madam Pomfrey cut him off with another gesture at the books. “You would do well to remember how randy the influx of hormones makes a pregnant wizard and be thankful for any opportunity Severus might give you to bring him to climax. The endorphin this releases has a calming effect and it will be a marked improvement over a pregnant, sexually frustrated, ill-tempered man like Severus Snape.”
His mouth still hanging open, Harry could only watch as the mediwitch swept into Snape’s bedroom, his mind racing through images best not thought of until the woman left.
Surfacing slowly from sleep, Severus Snape kept his eyes firmly closed, more out of old habit than any perceived danger. A rapid assessment of his body told him that he was rested and relatively free of any pain or nausea - in fact he felt quite peckish. Concentrating, Severus recognized that he was in his own bed and it seemed to be evening by the coolness of the air, but he didn’t recognize the person making quiet movements as they carefully straightened the bedding and headed out the door. These steps were lighter than Poppy’s; the clumsy attempts at stealth for some reason made Severus think that Harry Bloody Potter had gained access to his residence or at least to his hallucinations.
Snatches of dream-like memories came back to him: Potter caring for him, washing him with gentle touches, and… Severus’ cock twitched as another memory assailed him. It was all he could do not to squirm as it tantalized him. Why on earth would someone like Potter voluntarily touch him? A soft shuffle near the door told him that the teenager was back and as he came closer to the bed, Severus could feel the brush of the boy’s magic.
“Madam Pomfrey says you should wake soon.” Potter’s soft voice sounded regretful and Severus felt the mattress depress beside his shoulder. “I’m really hoping that you’ll at least allow me to talk to you before you chuck me out.”
Severus barely contained a snort. Too right he’d chuck the brat out! The boy shifted and Severus was startled to feel a gentle touch to his hair, only his reflexes saving him from discovery. A brush drew slowly through the hair on one side, a callused hand cupped his cheek.
“Did your mother ever brush your hair, Professor? I’d like to think my mum must have brushed mine, but I don’t remember it. No one ever brushed my hair for me that I remember, certainly not my aunt, which is probably why it’s such a mess now. Does it feel good? I think it must feel brilliant to have someone touching you just because they want to.”
A frown furrowed his brow before Severus could stop it, but Potter didn’t seem to notice. Unsolicited images emerged from his memory of the Occlumency lessons Severus had been forced to give during Potter’s fifth year, images that had disturbed him then and had led to a spectacular confrontation with Albus Dumbledore. It had been then that Severus had first suspected that the pampered life of the Boy Who Lived was as much a lie as everything else that surrounded the boy. A childhood which had been as bad as Severus’, worse, as the child Harry had not even known the affections that Severus had at least had before the drink took his mother from him.
“My mum must have liked taking care of me, don’t you think? In the pictures I have of us, she seems to like holding me.” There was a quiet sigh as Severus’ head was carefully tilted the other way, allowing Potter to brush the other side. “I wonder how things would’ve been if you’d been able to see me as my mother’s son instead of the son of your worst enemy? I mean, it sounds like you knew her better than anyone, and you might’ve told me about her. No one ever seems to talk about my mum, Professor, and sometime I have to think she’d have been a bit disappointed in how I‘ve handled things.”
On the contrary, Severus suspected Lily would have been bursting with pride if she could see how the baby she had loved so much had turned out. That same child Severus had sworn to protect but had gone out of his way to persecute with all the loathing he had once felt for James Potter. The boy, however, seemed lost in thought now as the brush continued to stroke rhythmically through Severus’ hair. As soothing as the action was, Severus could feel his body having an entirely different reaction to being touched, as if wishing for a repeat of the hazy memory. Severus felt his cock harden and he almost groaned as he thought of the nimble fingers stroking there instead of through his hair.
Almost as if Potter knew what he was thinking, the brushing stopped and with one last touch to his face, the boy stood up. Hands smoothed the bedding over him once more and Severus was startled when a light hand paused to lie across his abdomen for a brief moment.
“I’ll go and check the soup, Professor, just in case you wake up and want some. Then I think Madam Pomfrey is going to come by to check on you.”
Quiet footsteps headed out of the room and Severus cautiously opened his eyes. Soft light lit the far end of the bedroom where the curtains were slightly parted and a rapid glance around the room assured him that he was finally alone. He lay still, sure that a monitoring spell would alert the boy as soon as he attempted to move. His cock twitched more insistently and Severus steadfastly ignored the randy thing as he tried to process the words and actions of Harry Potter. Perhaps there was more to the impatient, impertinent brat he thought he’d known, but old suspicions ran deep. It would take a lot more to convince him that Potter was actually sincere about wanting to have anything to do with Severus or the child he carried.
Throwing the bedding back, Severus swung his legs over the side and slowly sat up. Other than feeling a bit lightheaded, he found that he felt better than he had in several weeks. His stomach felt hollow and he could only surmise that he’d been unconscious for at least a day. Grasping the bed post, Severus used it to lever himself to his feet, somewhat surprised to find that he was both naked and still aroused. Stripping him was one of Poppy’s favorite methods of trying to keep him confined to bed, but it didn’t work as well in his own home!
Confident that he was steady, Severus started towards the loo where his dressing gown was hanging behind the door. He only took two steps before his legs seemed to lose their ability to support the rest of his body. They slowly crumpled and Severus flung his hands out only to feel a surprisingly strong set of arms loop around his waist.
“I’ve got you, Professor!”
Severus felt the stomach-dropping sensation of dread flood through him. Did it have to be Potter who came to his rescue? Did it have to be Potter who saw him in his weakest, most embarrassing moment? Years of practice funneled his discomfort into anger and as soon as the boy had steadied him, Severus lashed out.
“Get out of my house, Potter! You’re not wanted here!”
The arms tightened fractionally and Severus frowned as one of the boy’s hands splayed across his belly. “I realize that, Professor, but Madam Pomfrey refused to allow you to stay here by yourself, so you have the choice of me or St. Mungo’s.”
The boy’s voice was carefully neutral, which was surprising in itself, but Potter gave him no time for argument. Dipping underneath Severus’ arm, Potter pulled it over his shoulder; the arm around his waist still supported him. Without a word, Severus suffered the contact as Potter helped him to the bathroom, both ignoring his nakedness. Pushing open the door, the brat reached around and grabbed his dressing gown, silently handing it to Severus. Severus took it, shook off Potter and braced himself against the sink with a pointed look at the door.
“I’ll be right out here…”
Severus sent the door slamming in the brat’s face as he leaned against the washbasin and shrugged into his dressing gown. His cock was still twitching, more than interested in the prospect of another male in the house, much to Severus’ chagrin. He knew the hormones running rampant in his otherwise sane body were to blame for the state of near constant arousal he’d been dealing with even before the added complication of Harry Bloody Potter inserting himself in Severus’ life.
Stalling wasn’t going to solve his problems, Severus knew and convinced his prick to relax enough to relieve his bladder. His stomach grumbled and Severus was happy to know it was with hunger instead of nausea. Potter was an unexpected obstacle in his already complicated life and Severus didn’t have the strength to deal with him. What teenager Potter’s age would really devote themselves to anything? Severus straightened from the sink as he turned off the water. Potter might be utterly sincere in his desire to help, even his desire to see the pregnancy through, but it was unlikely he would see it through for the long term.
Ignoring an unfamiliar sensation in his chest, Severus decided there was nothing wrong with taking advantage of the situation until Potter got tired of the game and moved on. Brushing the hair back from his face, Severus glanced into the mirror, knowing full well what the young man standing on the other side of the door saw when he looked at Severus Snape. It didn’t matter ultimately; Severus knew he’d be alone, just as he’d always been.
Harry shifted from foot to foot, waiting nervously for Snape to come out. The tray he’d prepared still sat on the chair where he’d set it, the soup still steaming. The turning of the door knob alerted Harry and he stepped to the side of the door, hands up to support Snape as he came out. His former professor, now armored in his black dressing gown, looked down his long nose at Harry in contempt, one hand gripping the doorframe. Letting his hands drop, Harry took a step closer, willing Snape to take what was offered without a fuss.
A hand settled heavily on his shoulder and Harry took a slow step towards the bed.
“You are released from any inane promises Madam Pomfrey may have elicited from you, Potter, as I am more than competent to look after myself.”
The snap was back in Snape’s voice and Harry rolled his eyes, not wanting to admit the relief he felt. They made it to the bed and Harry waited until Snape had settled himself against the pillows before retrieving the tray. Dark eyes narrowed as Harry carried it over and set it across Snape’s lap.
“You are sadly mistaken if you think you are going to spoon feed me, Potter.”
“Back to your sniping already, I see, Severus.” Madam Pomfrey’s voice was clipped as she strode into the room. “I left some new supplies for you in the kitchen, Potter.”
Harry needed no further prompting, exiting the room quickly and just hoping he didn’t look like he was fleeing. The bedroom door closed quietly behind him as Harry retreated to the kitchen to put away the potions the mediwitch had brought. Helping himself to a bowl of soup, Harry sat at down at the table and slowly began to eat. He suspected he would need all his strength now that Snape was awake and as snarky as always. The Hungarian Horntail toy sat atop the male pregnancy books Harry had been studying and he smiled. The soft toy had come to represent the baby Harry had bought it for and he’d taken to keeping it close by as a reminder.
With a sigh, Harry finished his soup and tidied up the kitchen. Kreacher had been dividing his time over the past few days between Snape’s house and Grimmauld Place, but there was little that Harry needed him to do. Preferring to occupy the empty hours with the busy work of cleaning and cooking, Harry had Kreacher concentrate on helping Andromeda in his absence. It had amazed him how much Harry missed little Teddy, and he hoped once Snape had accepted his presence, that he would be able to visit his godson once in a while. Until Snape told him the address, Harry knew that if he left, he’d never be able to find the house again.
“Mr. Potter!” Madam Pomfrey’s voice floated down to him and Harry stepped out of kitchen. “Would you come up, please?”
Scowling darkly, Snape sat propped against the pillows in bed, his arms crossed over the soft gray nightshirt he now wore. Madam Pomfrey matched him scowl for scowl as Harry stood just inside the bedroom door. He shifted nervously from foot to foot, not wanting to get in the middle.
“Don’t dawdle, Potter!”
Harry took two steps into the room, stopping alongside the witch as she continued to glare at Snape. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Severus,” she emphasized the name despite Snape’s glare at the familiarity, “will be staying in bed for the next several days and then he will be able to get up for short periods of time with your assistance. I will be counting on you to protect the stubborn man from himself, Potter, which you are to do despite the anticipated harassment. Should you run into any type of resistance, you may contact me. I am sure that St. Mungo’s would be able to provide accommodations if the need arises.”
The mediwitch directed a hard look at Snape, and Harry was amused to see the snarky man flinch. A reassuring pat on Harry’s arm and she was gone, leaving him to stand and look anywhere but at the man in the bed. A long-suffering sigh made Harry want to smirk; it was nice to have someone else being the mediwitch’s victim for a change.
“I’ve finished with the tray, Potter, you may remove it,” Snape snapped, bringing Harry’s head up. “Then bring me the journal I left in the small sitting room downstairs.”
Carefully keeping his face schooled in a neutral expression, Harry stepped forward and lifted the tray. He was not going to let the man’s rudeness make him angry; he was not going to give Snape the satisfaction. Harry was pleased to see the bowl was empty as he carried it down to the kitchen. Quickly, he fixed a pot of tea the way Madam Pomfrey had said was best for someone pregnant and added a plate of the chocolate digestives he’d found in the cupboard. He located the black leather-bound journal Snape was talking about next to a wing-backed chair in the sitting room.
Snape snatched the journal out of his hand, thumbing through it suspiciously as if he expected Harry to have done something with it. Harry rolled his eyes and stood next to the bed, holding out the teacup for several long minutes before Snape bothered to acknowledge his presence again. Handing him the cup, Harry waited to see if it would be accepted or rejected.
“Swill,” Snape proclaimed with a sniff, but started to sip as he turned his attention back to his journal.
Backing out of the room and leaving the door ajar, Harry retreated to the couch in the adjacent sitting room. Larger than the one downstairs, this room was light and airy, with windows that looked over a meadow and stream, and the couch was surprisingly comfortable. Slumping into the corner, Harry laid his head back, suddenly weary. At least the sardonic man was awake now, albeit just as unpleasant as always. Well, Harry knew what to expect then.
Severus eased himself out of bed. His legs felt steady enough as he made his way across the room to the loo. Stepping into the shower, Severus luxuriated in the ability to do something for himself. Not that Potter hadn’t done everything Severus had demanded of him - quite the contrary - the boy had gone out of his way to see to Severus’ comfort, to pamper him even. But after a week in bed, Severus was more than ready to resume the daily chores of living.
Grudgingly, Severus had to admire Potter’s tenacity - such a noble Gryffindor trait, he sneered. And that tenacity had been well tested as he had ordered, berated, badgered and insulted the boy, who in turn had responded by visibly gritting his teeth and soldiering on. It seemed that the brat had actually expected Severus to be unpleasant and had accepted it stoically. Severus frowned as he rinsed soap from his hair and the bubbles that ran down his chest. The brat was showing the unmistakable signs of maturity, he thought pensively chasing the bubbles with a hand. At this his mind conjured up the image of a fine arse stretching tight denim as Potter bent over to retrieve the quill Severus had ‘dropped’. His cock twitched appreciatively and Severus groaned softly.
Sliding his hand over his still-flat belly, Severus cupped his balls and rolled them gently. Closing his eyes, he envisioned the softly curved cheeks of said arse held open in invitation, brilliant green eyes glazed with desire, looking back at him over a bare shoulder. Arousal flared inside him and Severus brought his other hand down to grip his hard cock. Leaning back against the cool tiles which were such a contrast to the hot water streaming down his chest, Severus swiped his thumb across the sensitive head, mimicking the caress of a warm tongue. The water lapped at him as he squeezed and twisted, shuddering as his climax struck him in an embarrassingly short amount of time.
Sweet Merlin, Severus thought with disgust, now he was fantasizing about the brat. Angrily, he washed away the evidence of his pleasure and stepped out of the shower. Drying off, Severus dressed quickly in a summer-weight robe. Potter had invaded his home and his thoughts, he was an unwelcome menace lounging in one of his bedrooms, eating his food and sullying his pristine living space! Severus wrapped his self-righteous anger around him like a cloak and threw open the door. There had to be some way to send the Chosen One fleeing from him in terror.
Soft golden light filtered in through the half-drawn curtains, showing Severus it was just past dawn as he made his way through the sitting room. A movement on the couch startled him and Severus was surprised to find Potter sprawled across the too-small space. A blanket had slid off onto the floor, revealing broad shoulders and a lean chest just starting to lose the softness of youth. A lightly muscled abdomen was bisected from the navel down by a lovely treasure trail that led down into the dark cotton sleep trousers that clung low on slender hips. The soft trousers were tented and Severus had to wonder what the boy was dreaming of, even as his randy prick started to perk up at the delicious sight laid out in front of him.
Male or female, Severus had always admired a fine physique and he took a moment to run his eyes the length of the sleeping form. Potter’s chest was hairless, flat brown nipples pebbling as the boy stirred slightly, almost as if he felt the caress of Severus’ heated stare. The erection pressing against the cotton wasn’t overly large, but it was enough to provide a nice hand - or mouthful. Potter needed to gain a bit of weight over his chest and ribs, but all in all, the boy would make a tasty morsel. It was too bad Potter had proven himself to be straight. Severus’ cock twitched in fervent agreement.
Potter’s eyes fluttered open, blinking up at him blurrily and Severus was glad he’d chosen to wear a light but roomy robe. He doubted that the boy, whose unfocused eyes stared up at him, would even been able to see his erection. Severus took a hasty step back as the teenager finally woke up and scrambled to his feet. A foot caught and Severus found his arms full of warm flesh. Erections brushed and Severus was able to swallow his groan. Potter, however, failed. The brat pushed away from him, chest heaving and eyes frantic.
“I’m…I’m sorry, Professor!”
The boy stammered out the apology and Severus watched with fascination as a delightful blush heated Potter’s face and flowed clear down to those tempting nipples.
“I…you’re dressed…out of bed…”
Watching Harry Potter stumble through whatever he was trying to articulate, Severus suddenly became painfully aware of two things. The first was the realization that he was very attracted to this young man barely out of school, and the second was that the undeniably heterosexual virgin could be driven away with just a few well-planned sexual advances. Something tightened in his chest at the thought, but Severus ignored it as he turned on his heel with a sneer.
A wave of nausea hit him hard and Severus swore at the timing. Completing a full circle, he sprinted back towards the bathroom. Barely making it down to the toilet in time, Severus began retching violently. This nonsense was getting old, Severus thought miserably as he leaned over the bowl. He didn’t immediately notice that he was no longer alone until gentle hands gathered his hair and held it back.
When Severus finally sat back on his heels, a warm flannel appeared in front of him. Taking it grudgingly, Severus eyed the young man kneeling beside him.
“Your spawn hates me, Potter.”
The brat had the audacity to grin at him. “The baby doesn’t hate you, Professor, and neither do I. And you could call me Harry, you know.”
Then Severus was being helped to his feet before he was able to shake off Potter’s hands. He straightened his robes with a flourish, eyes raking down the still half-dressed teenager’s body just to see the flush blossom again. With a smirk, Severus watched Harry’s hasty retreat. Thoughtful, he combed his hair back from his face and secured it at the nape of his neck.
Harry Bloody Potter was an enigma and it was starting to annoy him. Why hadn’t the brat availed himself of one of the guest rooms? Why was he putting up with Severus’ ill temper? Why was he acting like he cared? Severus understood that Potter wanted to help with the situation, Poppy had certainly articulated that well enough, but the level of kindness the boy had displayed baffled him. Could it be genuine?
Shaking his head, Severus glanced at his reflection in the mirror over the sink - the truth was right in front of him. Of course, Potter wasn’t sincere; it was just a way to interject himself into Severus’ life and make a nuisance of himself.
Making his way downstairs, he stood in the kitchen doorway, his eyes sweeping around the room. Harry was preparing tea, now dressed in a tee-shirt and the ever-present denim. A frying pan sat on the stove, a bowl of eggs alongside it. On the table was a plate with a stack of toast, a bowl of fresh fruit, and to one side was what looked like a toy dragon. Settling himself in his chair, Severus picked up the toy and examined it. The detailing and quality of the construction was exquisite.
“Here’s your tea, Prof…”
Toy sitting on the palm of his hand, Severus glanced up as the boy stood over him, seemingly frozen in place.
Um…I just…it’s just like the Hungarian Horntail I had to fight…” Potter averted his eyes, leaning down to set a cup and saucer in front of him.
“You bought this for the child.”
As soon as he said the words, Severus knew that Harry Potter had been sincere in his desire to be involved with this child. The strange tightening of his chest flitted through him again. Carefully replacing the soft toy, Severus picked up his teacup, blowing across the steaming surface. The fascination would not last. There were too many other distractions, too many other things infinitely more interesting than a baby to a teenager. Harry Potter would lose interest in him…in them. No, Severus would do well to stay with his original plan.
With a final look around the sparkling clean kitchen, Harry waved the torches down and stood in the darkness for a moment. An air-cooling charm he’d found in one of his books kept the house bearable. A sigh escaped him as Harry thought of the glorious sunshine and light breezes the day had brought, a day made for flying, but even after two weeks he was still an unwelcome guest here. Snape had not invited him to use a bedroom, let alone given him the address of the house, and Harry kept doing what he could to win the austere man over.
Tucking the toy dragon under his arm, Harry trudged quietly up the stairs. Harry liked to have the plushie to remind him why what he was doing was important. Especially during the times when Snape had goaded his temper to the breaking point or depression in the face of indifference weighed him down, then the toy reminded him that his child was worth the abuse. Not that it was easy to try and pamper the pregnant wizard, as Madam Pomfrey had suggested, when Harry couldn’t even get the man to speak to him half the time. Even if silence was better than being sniped at, it was disconcerting and Harry would almost rather have Snape insulting him.
Stepping into the sitting room, Harry was dumbfounded to find Snape sitting on his couch, reading. The windows were open to let in what little breeze there was to stir the heat and his former professor was clad only in his soft gray nightshirt, sitting at exactly the point where the cross-breeze from the bedroom and the sitting room windows met. Slender feet caught Harry’s eye…slender, bare feet and he felt almost giddy. Silently Summoning the lotion from the side table, Harry made sure Snape was ignoring him as usual and sat on the floor in front of the couch.
Lifting one foot gently, Harry settled it in his lap. Warming the lotion in his hands, Harry rubbed it along his palms as he contemplated how to go about massaging a foot. The slender foot was pale, almost delicate-looking with fine bones and the blood vessels visible through the translucent skin. The toes were long like Snape’s fingers and Harry swallowed as he felt another tendril of arousal at the sight. Taking a deep breath, Harry cupped the heel and spread lotion along the bottom up to the toes. The touch of Snape’s skin sent a tingle of magic through his fingers, which Harry tried to ignore. Taking care to apply enough pressure not to tickle, Harry held the foot and began to use his thumbs to gently massage the heel. Keeping his head down so that Snape could not see the blush on his cheeks, Harry proceeded to rub the curving arch and instep, up the ball of the foot and on to the toes.
Barely containing a groan, Harry scooted a little closer, trying to rearrange his jeans as they pulled tighter over his hardening cock. Rubbing his fingers along the tips of Snape’s toes, Harry had to fight a sudden urge to stroke them, one by one, and continued to rub over the toes and on up the foot. He couldn’t believe how arousing it was just to stroke Snape’s foot! For the past two weeks he’d struggled to keep himself in line, to ignore the attraction that had grown with each passing day. Since the day he’d given Snape his sponge bath, Harry had dreamed of a dark-haired lover stroking his body, elegant hands and long, talented fingers wrapping around his prick and always, always it was Snape.
Tearing his thoughts away from the dream images, Harry shifted, pulling Snape’s foot further into his lap to reach the ankle and accidentally brushing Snape’s toes against his erection. A muffled exclamation of impatience came from above him and Snape yanked his foot away, but before Harry could mourn the loss, the other foot was shoved into his lap. The slender toes seemed to seek out his hard cock, and Harry bit his lip as he wrapped his fingers around the heel. Trying to will away his body’s reaction, Harry concentrated on massaging the foot in his lap.
It seemed that Uncle Vernon had been right - he was a freak. There was no other explanation as to why he was suddenly so attracted to Snape. Harry’s cock throbbed with need and his mind searched for something to distract it. He tried to picture Ginny’s face, but couldn’t; instead Cho Chang suddenly appeared in his mind before her raven hair and almond eyes melted into Severus Snape’s greasy hair and hooded eyes. Pulling himself together, Harry found that his fingers were fondling Snape’s toes.
“Why don’t you put those restless fingers to better use, Harry?”
Snape’s low voice flowed over his heated skin like a caress and Harry looked up to see the older man pull up the nightshirt to reveal his own hard cock. Setting the foot down, Harry rose slowly to his knees, afraid that Snape would use Legilimency on him and pull away at any moment. Carefully he slid his hands up the lean thighs as Snape shifted and spread his legs further apart. Madam Pomfrey’s words rang in his mind as Harry gave himself up to his fantasies and reached to trail his fingers up Snape’s erection. Standing proud like the wizard himself, the top curved slightly to the left, Harry gingerly wrapped his hand around it, his own cock throbbing as Snape gasped.
“For Merlin’s sake, Potter, grip it like you mean it!”
Severus worked to control his breathing as the tingle of magic from Harry’s fingertips teased him as they trailed up his prick. Egads! The boy was definitely a virgin and completely untutored, if his fumbling grasp were any indication. Severus planted his feet and thrush up into Potter’s hesitant hold. He certainly might as well get some enjoyment out of humiliating the brat; it had been far too long since he’d had a lover.
The pulse of magical energy that Potter gave off was almost enough to have him coming by itself, but the boy’s tentative touch wasn’t giving him the friction he craved. Glaring down at the top of the boy’s bent head, Severus was about to tell Potter off when the hand tightened. Severus gripped the cushion on either side of his thighs as Potter’s other hand cupped his testicles and rolled them, the resulting tingle of magic ripping a gasp from him. The grip on his cock started to move slowly up and down, but before Severus could snap at the brat to get on with it, Harry’s tongue swiped tentatively across the tip.
Severus couldn’t stop the thrusting of his hips or the moan that was ripped from his chest as Harry slid his lips over the head of his cock. Pressing forward to lean on Severus’ thighs, Potter seemed to be trying to coordinate his hands and mouth, while all Severus wanted to do was thread his fingers through the messy hair and hold that head in place while he fucked the boy’s heated mouth. His climax slammed into him without warning and Severus arched up as Harry pulled his mouth away, come spilling from his lips as Severus continued to spurt onto his face. Creamy streaks decorated the round glasses as Harry continued to milk his cock, reducing Severus to a boneless mass on the couch. The expression of bliss on the brat’s face startled Severus even as he found it disturbingly erotic.
Potter’s cheeks began to heat at Severus’ scrutiny and the boy turned away abruptly, Summoning a flannel. Severus watched in bemused silence as Harry wiped off his cock with a gentle touch and pulled his nightshirt back down. As the boy stood, Severus was astonished to see the front of the denim trousers had darkened with Potter’s own release. He could only watch as the teenager made a hasty retreat out of the room.
Well, that was certainly unexpected!.
Severus would’ve been the last person to believe Harry Potter would enjoy touching him. Skepticism stole into his post-coital haze as Severus remembered that the brat was an eighteen-year-old male and would probably achieve orgasm at anyone’s touch. Severus would just have to escalate the situation to a point that would send the brat running; his recently spent cock twitched at the prospect of getting to play with Harry again.
Picking up his book, Severus retreated into his bedroom. He’d done everything he could think of to make Potter’s stay unpleasant, but the boy had taken it all with minimal cheek. There was a new maturity in Potter that Severus hadn’t anticipated, a quiet sense of determination that the past year had honed. Severus had kept track of the odyssey Potter and his friends had gone on in search of the Horcruxes, watched the missteps and bungling as the journey had led ultimately back to Hogwarts. Narcissa Malfoy had relayed to him what had happened as the Chosen One had stood and faced the Dark Lord as well as his own death without flinching that night. Minerva had shared the details of the final battle. Harry Potter did not lack for bravery; indeed, he seemed to thrive on adverse situations.
Perhaps he needed to change his tactics again.
Harry sat wearily on the edge of the couch, his arms resting on his thighs, and hands dangling between them. The combination of emotional stress during the day and the dreams at night, good and bad, was making him a mess. At least Snape was doing well, he thought with a sigh. The morning sickness had all but vanished and the man had finally gained a bit of weight. Morning walks around the garden had put some color into the sallow cheeks. Even the man’s mood had seemed to lighten as Snape had started to torture him with casual touches that drove Harry mad. His body seemed to react to both Snape’s touch as well as his magic, leaving Harry in a perpetual state of arousal. His cock twitched now at the mere thought.
It had become an almost nightly ritual for Snape to come out of his bedroom in the evenings and sit on the couch, wearing only his nightshirt. Harry had taken to changing into his sleep pants before sitting at his former professor’s feet and massaging lotion into them. From there it would progress until Harry brought Snape off either with his hand or his mouth. And despite the discovery that he very much enjoyed the feel of that heated length in his mouth, Snape had never once touched Harry in kind. Harry thought the indifference was almost worse than if Snape had just pushed him away. It seemed to be Snape’s way of telling him that he wasn’t worth any consideration. Harry wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to stand it.
A low moan startled him and Harry was on his feet before he could identify the noise as one of pleasure rather than pain. His feet continued to carry him to Snape’s bedside, just to see for himself that the older man was really all right. The moonlight cast a silvery tone over Snape’s bare chest, and Harry couldn’t help drinking in the sight of it. A hand reached up to grab his arm and tugged hard. Overbalanced, Harry fell across Snape’s chest, warm flesh against warm flesh and he froze.
Before Harry could extract himself, Snape rolled him to the side, pulling Harry back against him with a restraining hand on his chest. Another hand settled on his hip and Harry bit back a moan of his own as Snape’s hard cock pressed into the cleft between his arse cheeks. His own cock responded immediately as Snape began to rub against him and Harry gasped at the incredible sensations, but it was the last straw.
“No! Please, just stop!”
He didn’t even care that his voice cracked; Harry couldn’t take the subtle torment any longer. Warm breath ghosted across the back of his neck as the hand at his hip slid down to brush his hard prick, and Harry didn’t try to stop the shiver that ran through him.
“Your body is saying yes, Harry.”
The sleep-roughened voice only aroused him more, but Harry knew it would leave him feeling just as hollow as it did when he allowed Snape to use his mouth. He tried to pull away again, only to be held fast and Harry slumped back.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he whispered, “you’ve won. I just can’t…I’d rather leave than continue to be so despised that you can’t bring yourself to touch me.”
The hands that restrained him loosened their hold. “You would welcome my touch?”
Harry gave a snort that was half-sob. “Isn’t that why you’ve been doing this? Because you know how much I want you to touch me? Please, haven’t I humiliated myself enough already?”
“I believed you touched me out of a misguided attempt to provide me with what you thought was simply another of my needs.” Snape slowly pulled him back against him, the one hand curling around Harry’s erection and beginning to move up and down. “Does that feel good, Harry? Can you feel how hard I am? I was dreaming of you, of doing exactly this when you woke me.”
Harry could only groan with pleasure as the slender fingers moved on his cock, stroking and squeezing him. He could feel that lovely prick rub between his cheeks as Snape’s arm looped around his chest. The feel of someone else’s hands on his body was amazing and Harry wanted to savor the sensations as he wrapped a hand around Snape’s arm.
“If you think this feels good, just think how it will feel when I suck that lovely little cock into my mouth.” Severus purred in his ear.
Harry was undone, the combination too much for his oversensitive body and mind to handle. He could feel himself empty onto the hand that seemed to fly over his prick and groaned again as he felt warmth tickle down his arse as Snape stiffened behind him. Slumping back against the warmth that held him, Harry struggled to keep his eyes open. A tingle of magic brushed over him and took away the sticky feeling. The hand that had held his hip in a bruising grip shifted and Harry tensed as he waited to be pushed away.
The arm crept up and settled at his waist with the hand splaying across his belly. “Stay.”
Harry smiled at the terse command and he relaxed. How typical of his former professor to order rather than ask! There was something incredibly right about lying pressed against the pregnant man and Harry was too tired to resist the allure. He was just realizing that he had allowed Snape to get under his skin, had allowed the physical attraction he felt to go deeper. It was fire he was playing with here and it would surely burn him as badly as the Horntail had during the Triwizard Tournament. Harry could almost hear the rant Ron would be sure to spew when he found out, but he was too tired to care.
Severus felt the boy relax against him as he finally succumbed to the exhaustion Severus had seen building in the past few days. He knew that Harry had been struggling with the intimacies that Severus had pushed him into giving, just as he’d been aware of the boy’s apparent fascination, but he’d dismissed that as teenage curiosity. It had never occurred to him that Potter might be coming to grips with his sexuality or that Severus could hold any attraction for him. There was no doubt that part of this was the child Severus carried, and his own experiences told him that the interest was transitory at best.
With a sigh, Harry nestled closer and Severus tucked the tousled head under his chin, their legs entwining. If Harry was sincere in his interest, the trust the young man was handing him was staggering. Yet, after all that had happened over the years, after the treatment Severus had dealt to the son of James Potter, how could Harry even consider Severus as a friend let alone a lover? The image of Lily Evans rose spontaneously in his mind, her brilliant green eyes awash with sorrow as she forgave him for his stupidity at the end of their fifth year. The shame and ache of loss he’d felt that day was just as sharp today, but Severus knew he’d only himself to blame for the estrangement that had started with his best friend.
The truth struck him like a blow and Severus found his arms tightening around Harry. The brilliant green eyes weren’t the only things Harry had inherited from his mother; he’d also inherited her ability to forgive. Severus snorted softly, trying to ease the sudden ache in his chest. Albus Dumbledore had blathered on and on about Harry Potter’s capacity to love and how that ability would bring down the Dark Lord, but Albus had been wrong – it was Harry’s capacity to forgive that was his true power. Harry had had to forgive Dumbledore’s own manipulations in the lifelong plot to use the child as a weapon, in order to face his own death at the Dark Lord’s own hand.
The enormity of what the then seventeen-year-old boy had done struck Severus again, leaving him unsure as to whether he himself would have been able to do what Harry had done. In light of that, it was within reason to believe that Harry had forgiven Severus for his past transgressions and was honest in his desire to make their situation a bearable one for both of them. Perhaps, Severus thought as he lifted a hand to stroke the responsive warmth pressed against him, there was something to be obtained from allowing the boy his folly. Sweet Merlin, Potter’s optimism seemed to be wearing away his resolve like water dripping on stone.
It was definitely time to change his tactics, once again.
Harry stood at the kitchen door and looked out over the garden. The weather had remained warm for this late in September and he turned his face up into the sunlight with a smile. Waking up in Snape’s arms for the third morning in a row had been wonderful and Harry had been about to slip out of bed as he’d done before when the older man shifted. Holding himself still, Harry had been amazed when Snape had ended up on his back, Harry’s hand lying across the slight curvature at his waist. It was the baby finally making an appearance and Harry hadn’t been able to help but cup the slight mound, a smile of delight splitting his face.
Snape, of course, had chosen that moment to wake up and sent him off to make tea. Harry had taken note of the color highlighting the sallow cheeks and had left after pressing a kiss to the bump. Humming, Harry had thrown together a batch of the scones that Snape liked, allowing himself the luxury of basking in the sun while they baked. Things seemed to have got better in the past several weeks, he thought, or perhaps Snape was just less suspicious of his motivation. Harry wasn’t sure, but the older man seemed to tolerate his presence and even enjoy Harry’s fumbling touch. Harry swallowed hard; he was still worried that Snape would throw him out after his confession. Instead, Snape had silently stood in his doorway the past two nights when Harry went to lie down, beckoning to the open door. Harry hadn’t dared read anything more into the actions.
The flapping of wings announced Thoth’s arrival and Harry smiled at the little owl as he landed gently on his master’s shoulder. Sticking his leg out importantly, Harry saw the small scroll attached to it.
“Well done, Thoth! Let’s get you a treat.” Harry removed the parchment as Snape stepped into the kitchen, his appearance impeccable as always. The dark eyes watched Harry skim the short letter from Andromeda.
“Andromeda needs me to watch Teddy for a couple of days so that she can go and help her ill sister.” Indecision warred inside him as Harry glanced up at Snape, who watched impassively.
Harry looked back down at the small strip of parchment, torn between his duty to his godson and his vow not to leave Snape. Slender fingers snatched the scrap from him and Harry tamped down the anger that flared at Snape’s highhanded move. As he watched, Snape Summoned a quill before bending over and scribbling something onto the parchment. Without a word, the dark eyes were intense on his face as he handed it back to Harry.
Looking down, Harry saw the familiar spidery scrawl.
The Light Dragon’s Nest can be found at number 12, Dinas Emrys Road, Godric’s Hollow.
Dumbfounded, Harry’s eyes darted up, searching the older man’s face. “You’ve given me…”
“Perhaps,” Snape cut across his words, “it would be informative to have the child here for a few days.”
A slow smile lit Harry’s face. Snape was actually trusting him with his address and asking him to come back. Without thinking, Harry threw himself into the older man’s arms, kissing him on the cheek before dashing out of the room. Pulling a piece of parchment from his bag, Harry quickly penned a note that told Andromeda he would be over that afternoon to gather Teddy. Running back to the kitchen, Harry hurried Thoth through eating his treat and having a drink of water as he tied his response to the owl’s leg.
Excitedly, Harry turned to find Snape rescuing the scones from the oven. “Oh, I’m sorry, Professor!”
Straightening up, Snape deftly dealt with the hot pan before turning to him, and Harry flushed as he remembered how impulsive he’d been.
“I do believe we can dispense with the formalities at this stage of our association, Harry.”
Blinking as he translated the words, Harry tilted his head to one side. “Do you mean I can call you Sev…Severus?”
“Only in the privacy of this house,” Snape…no, Severus sniffed. “Now, have you managed to steep the tea properly?”
Thirty minutes later, Harry stepped carefully from the Floo into Severus’ kitchen, the wiggling bundle in his arms protesting loudly. Severus Snape stood close to the fireplace, ready to catch him if he fell and Harry stumbled into his arms. Teddy finally managed to rip the blanket off his head, tears of anger running down his beet-red face. Bouncing the five-month-old in an effort to calm him, Harry leaned into Severus for a moment until his head stopped spinning.
Severus tipped Teddy’s chin up with a finger. “Is there a reason for this caterwauling?”
The baby stopped crying and blinked at him; Harry held his breath waiting for the explosion. Teddy looked steadily at Snape before reaching out and grabbing a handful of hair. A feeling of panic shot through Harry, but before he could move, Severus had gently caught Teddy’s arm and pried the baby’s fingers off his hair.
“Rather insolent already, aren’t you?” Severus smoothed his hair back. “I suppose that’s to be expected, given your parentage.”
Teddy squealed and tried to grab at him again, but Severus deftly moved out of his reach, watching the baby avidly. “Are they all this noisy?”
Harry laughed as he repositioned Teddy higher on his shoulder and followed the pregnant man. “Teddy’s the only one I’ve ever been around, but I guess so, more or less.”
Snape snorted as he seated himself at the table, his eyes intent on Teddy as Harry resized the baby bag he’d brought. Retrieving a bottle, Harry warmed it with a tap of his wand as Teddy began to squirm and protest once more. Murmuring softly, Harry popped the nipple into the baby’s mouth and settled back to watch his godson drink greedily. Alert eyes stared back at him, and Harry was delighted when Teddy reached up to wrap his hand around Harry’s finger. He’d missed the warmth of holding a baby close, missed the complete trust in the dark eyes as Teddy lay in his arms.
Tired from his travel through the Floo, Teddy fell asleep as he finished his bottle and Harry carried him upstairs. Kreacher had brought Teddy’s cot and dresser from Grimmauld Place, setting them up in the room across the hall from Snape’s. Harry laid the baby down and deftly changed his wet nappy before tucking him into his cot. Putting away the few things he’d carried over by hand, Harry backed out of the room, casting a monitoring charm as he went.
Harry didn’t expect to back right into Snape. The older man steadied him with an arm around his waist, peering over his shoulder into the darkened room. The closeness of the now-familiar heat made Harry’s body riot with sensation.
“Perhaps this would serve us as a nursery as well,” Severus murmured thoughtfully in his ear, causing Harry to shiver.
Turning his head quickly, Harry was startled to find Severus even closer than he thought and he tried to stammer out an apology. Severus watched him, amusement clear in his dark eyes as he leaned toward Harry, whose focus narrowed to the thin lips descending on his. They were warm and dry as they covered his, the touch sending a jolt of sensations straight to his groin. Magical energy seemed to swirl around them as Harry turned, his body drawn like a magnet to Severus’. A needy moan escaped him as Harry moved closer to Severus, his cock hardening as the kiss deepened. Wrapping his arms around Severus’ neck, Harry pressed himself as close as he could, the heat of Severus’ mouth and the skilled stroking of his tongue causing an almost desperate feeling of need inside Harry.
Just when Harry felt like he would explode if he didn’t somehow get even closer to Severus, to wrap himself around him, the older man lifted his head. Opening his eyes, Harry could see something molten in the depths of the dark eyes that search his face intently.
“Adequate,” Severus said in a dismissive voice, but Harry’s eyes darted down to the front of his robes.
A grin erupted as he saw that Snape was just as aroused as he was. “I’ll try to do better next time, sir.”
“Brat,” the older man muttered as he swept by Harry and headed downstairs, his hand trailing down Harry’s arm as he left.
Harry stared after him, his body throbbing in response as he ran his fingertips over his swollen lips. Maybe, just maybe, Severus was beginning to see him as something other than the insolent son of his most hated enemy. The ember of hope that Harry had struggled to keep from going out suddenly burst into flame inside his body and he found that everything now seemed brighter in his eyes.
A soft mewing sound awoke Severus and it took him a moment to place it. The monitoring charm indicated young Teddy was stirring and no doubt the soft noise would escalate in volume in a short period of time, as Severus had learned in the past week. The exhausted teenager curled against him moved restlessly and Severus calmed him with a stroke of his hand. The young man had insisted on continuing what he considered his duties were as well as taking care of the infant so that there were no burdens on Severus, which included getting up at night to feed Teddy.
Canceling the monitoring charm quickly, Severus slipped out of bed and pulled on his dressing gown. Andromeda had owled yesterday to advise that Narcissa was doing better and so she would be returning for Teddy that afternoon. Severus moved quietly to stand beside the baby’s cot just as he wound up for a lusty yell. Leaning over, Severus carefully picked up the child and held him in the way he’d observed Harry doing. A hand under the boy’s bottom seemed to indicate one immediate need and Severus laid Teddy down on the changing table. Quickly opening the pajamas, Severus was careful to keep the nappy on while he Summoned a clean one, having observed the child’s propensity to shoot a stream of urine as soon as his genitals were exposed.
“I have no doubt you know exactly what you are about,” Severus told the child as he removed the soggy cloth and deftly replaced it with the dry nappy.
The reaffixing of the equipment was not as simple as Harry had made it seem, but Severus went about it in a methodical manner and believed it would suffice. He scowled down at the infant who had kicked his legs gleefully the entire time. Picking Teddy up and feeling rather smug about his first successful nappy change, Severus carried the baby down to the kitchen where he retrieved a bottle. He went through the routine he’d watched Harry accomplish for the past week and sat down on the couch in the sitting room to feed the wiggling infant. Teddy’s dark eyes looked up at him, his pudgy hands reaching to tug at Severus’ robe.
“I will not be entertaining you with nonsensical drivel,” Severus informed the baby as he positioned the bottle so that Teddy easily latched onto the nipple. “I can, however, describe to you the proper method of preparing Belladonna in the hopes that it might sink into your subconscious.”
There was a gleam of intelligence in the depths of the eyes and something encouraging about the way young Teddy snuggled against him. The tiny hand reached up and seemed to pat his reassuringly before wrapping around his little finger. Soft eyelids drifted shut just as Severus began to describe the various uses of the prepared Belladonna and the nipple slipped out of the baby’s mouth. Severus lifted Teddy to his shoulder and gently patted his back, seeking the burp that Harry had told him was necessary for the child to make.
“Come along now,” he encouraged. “There are still a few hours in which sleep is my normal activity, so if you would just…”
burp
“Well done, Teddy,” Severus told the baby just as he felt the wetness seep through his robe and realized he had forgotten to put a towel on his shoulder.
With a silent groan, Severus took the baby back up to his cot and retreated to his own bathroom. A cleaning charm and a quick shower took care of the remnants of soured milk, but the scent of it seemed to be stuck in his nostrils, Severus thought disgustedly. Silently he slipped back into bed and was surprised when Harry rolled over immediately to press against him. Burying his nose in Harry’s sweet-smelling hair helped dissipate the regurgitated baby milk smell.
“Thank you, Severus,” Harry told him quietly, lifting his head to press a kiss to his jaw.
Startled by the unfamiliar affection, Severus ducked his chin and captured Harry’s lips. He’d meant only to return the warmth, but it seemed that his body and Harry’s had other ideas. The kiss caught fire, heating like the hissing breath of a dragon and Severus felt his arms enfold Harry against him as if moving of their own volition. Devouring the sweetness that was Harry’s mouth, Severus vaguely heard the whimper of need as slender legs entwined with his and the hardness of an equally slender cock rubbed against his thigh. Sliding his hands down the lean back, Severus cupped the delightful arse to align both their needy pricks.
The deep groan of pleasure took him by surprise as Harry ripped his mouth away and pushed back against his hands. Drawing a deep lungful of much needed air, Severus slid his fingers closer, allowing the tip of one to brush against Harry’s puckered entrance.
“Oh gods, yes!” Harry half-sobbed, his face pressed into Severus’ throat even as his body shuddered. “Please!”
Severus swallowed the next plea as he kissed Harry again, maneuvering the younger man onto his back. Easing slightly away, Severus calmed Harry with the stroke of his hand across the heated skin and murmured reassurances as he admired the body beneath him. He’d had lovers in the past, both male and female, but none who had been this eager or as responsive to his touch. A simple kiss had exploded into an inferno of passion and Harry arched up as Severus ran a fingertip over a peaked nipple. The brilliant eyes opened as he shifted further down Harry’s body, the green molten as they followed his moves until Severus rested on his knees between slender thighs.
Pausing, his hand hovering over Harry’s sweet cock, Severus looked intently down at the young man. “Be very sure that this is what you want, Potter.” Severus determinedly ignored the apprehension twisting his stomach and the slight tremor in his hand. “I will not suffer your remorse.”
The brat actually had the audacity to smile at him. “My only regret would be if you stopped now.”
The corners of his lips threatened to curl upward. “You needn’t fear that.”
Lowering his hand, Severus pressed against the hard prick as he leaned forward and opened his mouth over the pebbled nub. Licking it with the tip of his tongue before sucking it into his mouth, Severus throbbed with want as he heard Harry hiss his pleasure. Leaving a wet trail of open kisses, Severus replaced his hand with his mouth, doing what he had dreamed of for weeks as he allowed his tongue to map out the hard length of Harry’s cock. Slipping his hand down, he cupped Harry’s balls and let his fingers caress them, Severus slowly bobbed his head until he felt the balls tighten. Lifting his head, Severus quieted Harry’s frantic movements of protest as he Summoned the lotion from the sitting room.
Pushing Harry’s thighs further apart, Severus coated his hand with lotion and leaned forward to lap at the tip of Harry’s cock as he gently pressed his finger into him. Severus pushed his niggling doubt to the back of his mind as he felt the muscles clench at the invader.
“Relax,” he soothed quietly, “let me do the work.”
Harry whimpered with need, but Severus refused to hurry his preparation, not willing to cause the young man any pain. As his fingers stretched him, Severus kept Harry hovering on the edge of climax to keep his focus away from any discomfort. A genuine smile curling his lips as Severus watched Harry’s reaction to having his prostate stimulated, the bowed back, hands fisted into the bedding and the expression of wonderment on that beautiful face.
“Please, Severus!”
The needy plea was sweet music to Severus’ ears, his own body throbbing painfully with arousal. “Roll over then, it will be easier…”
“No!” Harry grabbed his arm. “Please, I want…I want to see your face.”
Looking down, Severus opened his mouth to refuse, but found that he could not deny the young man his only request. With a nod, he waved Harry over as he gingerly stripped off his pants and lay on his back. With the lotion left on his fingers, Severus slicked his cock. Harry leaned over to swipe his tongue over the uncoated tip, drawing a throaty groan from him.
“Come here,” Severus held out his arms and Harry moved over him, gingerly straddling his hips. “Guide me, Harry.”
“I won’t hurt you or the baby?” Harry asked even as he positioned himself to where the head of Severus’ cock nudged his well-stretched entrance.
Severus reached to grip Harry’s hips. “You won’t hurt us, Harry,” he assured him as Harry wrapped his hand around Severus’ cock and pushed back.
Trying to concentrate on Harry, Severus couldn’t help but hiss out a breath between clenched teeth as he felt his cock push through the tight ring of muscles. Everything in him wanted to thrust upward, to take the tight virgin hard and fast and he could feel the sweat bead on his forehead as he felt Harry pushing backward, hitching out a breath. Severus’ hands tightened as he tried to keep the brat from injuring himself until they groaned in unison when he was fully sheathed. Harry slumped across his chest as Severus waited for him to adjust to the unfamiliar intrusion. The tightness and the heat were incredible and Severus turned his head to press a kiss to a damp temple.
Harry stirred, propping his hands on Severus’ chest as he sat up and began to rock slowly back and forth. Bringing his legs up, Severus canted his hips, striving to hit the right angle before the perfect arse surrounding his cock could prompt him to embarrass himself. It took several shallow thrusts before Harry cried out and Severus began to thrust in earnest. The rhythm was a bit jerky, but Severus didn’t care as he pushed upward again and again. Another cry and Severus felt the warmth flood his belly as the already tight muscles seemed to milk his cock, sending him over the edge. Burying himself deeply, Severus groaned as he pumped his release into his lover before collapsing back onto his pillow.
It took a few minutes to regain his full faculties and when he did, Severus found Harry draped over him as his own hand stroked down the damp skin of the young man’s back. The full weight of his actions settled over him then and Severus tensed as Harry stirred.
Now Potter would push away from him in disgust and stumbled from his bed. Despite the boy’s own words and the needy moans, Harry Potter would never willingly stay with him. Severus mourned the loss as he felt his cock slip out of Harry, who shifted carefully back down to the bed. The anticipation of rejection was more painful than Severus remembered as he waited for Harry to slide from the bed.
A whisper of magic brushed across his arm and Severus started as a warm flannel carefully wiped the semen from his stomach and then cleaned his exhausted penis. Warm fingers moved back up to the barely discernible bulge in his abdomen and Severus opened his eyes cautiously. The brat was grinning down at him like a loon and resting his hand over their growing child as he leaned down to kiss Severus rather soundly.
“That was brilliant, Severus! Will you let me try it with you after you’ve taught me to do it properly?”
“Absolutely not, brat, don’t be cheeky!” Severus sniffed as he tugged his lover down beside him and yawned hugely. “We have another hour or so before dawn and you will need your rest if we are to have another lesson later.”
Harry snorted as he curled up against Severus and immediately dropped off to sleep; leaving Severus to ponder the fates and ironies of the universe and the subjugation of all his best laid plans.
“I do not see the humor in this situation,” Severus informed Madam Pomfrey with a scowl. “Gaining nearly a stone in the first four and a half months is not acceptable!”
“Now, Severus…”
The mediwitch began to fire back a snappy retort and Harry hid a smile as the two began what he was sure would be a lively exchange.
The weight gain was truly bothering Severus, especially as his morning sickness had changed overnight into intense cravings for some truly bizarre foods. It was not unusual in the past month for Severus to wake him in the middle of the night to send him Flooing to London for curry and rice or something equally spicy. Harry actually loved the protruding belly, the visible evidence that their child was growing inside his lover, and he loved to rub the special potion Severus had brewed onto the expanding skin. Loved the fact that Severus indulged him in the fetish he had developed about touching the pregnant man, and Harry grinned as he thought of the things that touching often led to. Although Severus’ chief complaint was the inability to see his bits, Harry noticed he hadn’t disclosed that to the matron.
“…I am absolutely sure, Severus. You and Harry will be the proud parents of a handsome young son in about four months, one whose magical signature is already very strong.”
Harry’s head snapped up from the tea tray he had been fussing with as the two old friends had talked. “A boy? We’re having a baby boy?”
“No, Potter, I’m giving birth to a bloody teenager!” Severus snapped, but Harry could see the gleam of emotion the words hid in the dark eyes.
There would be time later to talk about the news, Harry knew, when the older man had a better grip on his emotions that seemed to swing so rapidly from one extreme to the other. Handing Severus a cup of tea, Harry steered the conversation to the nursery they had begun to work on upstairs, asking Madam Pomfrey for her input into the best type of cot to order for the baby. As she warmed to her subject, Harry listened with only half an ear as the witch exalted the virtues of a bassinet over a cot. He met Severus’ eyes over the rim of his tea-cup and smiled. A son.
Diagon Alley was relatively quiet with only a few groups of people strolling between the businesses. It was still early and Harry knew that soon the narrow walkway would be crowded with adults and excited children, shopping for Samhain robes and the Summer’s End celebrations. He smiled at his own memories of shopping for school; they stood out as some of the best times he’d had during his years as a student. Someday he and Severus would bring their child here to shop, although he couldn’t quite picture the older man truly enjoying the experience. More likely Severus would scowl at the prospect, but Harry would make it fun for them all.
“Harry!”
Ginny Weasley’s loud voice startled him out of his thoughts and Harry looked up to see her standing in front of Flourish and Blotts. Swallowing a groan, Harry smile politely as he watched her hurry over, feeling decidedly uneasy. Snape’s temper might be hair-trigger but it was at least predictable. Harry couldn’t say the same about Ginny Weasley.
“I’m so glad to see you!” Ginny stopped just short of him and Harry was hard pressed not to take a step back. “Mum said you were cooped up somewhere, taking care of Snape.”
“Hi, Ginny,” Harry acknowledged her quietly, hands jammed into his jeans pockets. “How’s everybody doing?”
“Everyone’s fine, Fleur’s pregnant and Mum is over the moon about it.” Ginny flipped her hair over her shoulder, eyes intent on him.
A smile split his face. “That’s great news, Gin! I’m really happy for all of you.”
“And Snape? How’s he doing now? Mum told us he’d been ill.”
“He’s doing much better, thanks. The first trimester was a bit rough, but things are good now. We even felt the baby move for the first time yesterday!” A thrill went though Harry at the memory and he looked at his former girlfriend with a smile, only to see a frown of annoyance cross her face.
Ginny stepped closer, brushing her breasts against his chest suggestively. “Let’s just run away and get married, Harry! Snape’s child will be taken care of; Hermione told me he had enough money and all. Let’s get married and I’ll give you all the babies you want - beautiful babies, Harry.”
It was in that moment that Harry realized without a doubt that he was in love with Severus Snape. Looking down into Ginny’s eyes, he felt nothing but sadness as he knew that he could never have been what she needed, could never have made either of them happy. The lithe, lush curves of her body held no enticement for him, no white-hot flame of arousal that flashed through him as it did with a mere look from Severus’ dark, hooded eyes. Putting his hands on her shoulders, Harry gently but firmly pushed Ginny back. Her face paled as her eyes searched his for a moment, before she turned silently on her heel and walked away. There was no regret as Harry watched her disappear into a crowd of shoppers.
A feeling of euphoria slowly filled Harry as he continued his errands, his happiness pulsing within him as he bought what they needed for the week. He wasn’t able to resist a trip into Gambol and Japes to buy several other items to match the Hungarian Horntail soft toy. Dragons for his son, for their son. The mere thought added a thrill of delighted anticipation to the emotions he was feeling. Splurging, Harry ordered an ebony rocking chair with a padded seat and arms that looked like something Severus would enjoy rocking the baby in. Cheerfully, Harry arranged with the shopkeeper to have everything delivered to the house.
Stepping out into the sunshine, Harry glanced at his watch to see that he was going to be late for lunch and he raced back towards the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione hovered in the doorway, waiting. Grinning broadly, Harry swept up behind her and spun her around to give her a big hug.
“Harry!” The startled witch laughed up at him. “You are certainly in a jubilant mood!”
Wrapping an arm around her waist and wondering when his friend had become so short, Harry led her out towards Muggle London. “I believe I’ve just had an epiphany, my dear Miss Granger.”
“Do tell, Mr. Potter.”
“Well, I ran into Ginny,” Hermione looked up at him sharply, “and I didn’t want what she offered – I wasn’t tempted in the slightest – because it dawned on me that I was already in love…”
“With Snape,” Hermione finished for him, her smile matching his. “Oh Harry, you’ve been in love with him for a while now and I’m glad you’ve finally worked it out!”
The familiar heat crept across his cheeks as Harry blushed. “Well, yeah, but I think he might just like me a bit too.”
Hermione patted his hand as she shook her head. “Of course he does, Harry, or else he would never have tolerated your presence in his home. Now, tell me all about your shopping trip.”
It was several hours later that Harry Apparated to the kitchen of the house he was sharing with Severus, the goofy smile still lingering on his face. Carefully setting the bags of potion ingredients on the counter, Harry hummed as he put the cartons of take-away he’d brought for Severus on the table. The spicy Thai cuisine was the pregnant man’s latest craving and Harry was happy to bring it to him every night if Severus wanted it. Although he rarely said anything, Harry was sure Severus appreciated the efforts he made to keep him happy.
Tonight he wanted everything just right. For the first time since he’d learned when his parents had been killed, he was actually looking forward to a Halloween. He was excited about celebrating Samhain that evening, going over in his mind everything Severus had said they would need for the small ceremony. The simple robes they were to wear hung ready in the wardrobe upstairs and Harry couldn’t wait until it was time to get dressed.
Humming, Harry went in search of Severus, his newly realized feelings making his steps buoyant. Stepping into the small sitting room, Harry smiled as he saw Severus standing at the window, his rounded body silhouetted against the light. Without glancing at him, Severus pointed to what looked like the evening edition of the Daily Prophet. Stepping closer, Harry frowned as he attempted to see the upside-down picture playing across the front page. He gripped the corner to turn the paper around when the picture moved, showing him pulling Ginny into his arms.
Dread shot through him as he saw the picture had been printed in reverse.
“No.” Harry looked up at the stony profile. “Oh, no! It’s backwards! I was pushing her away, Severus! I…”
“Spare me your fumbling lies, Potter! You make a mockery of me, of the promises you’ve made, without regard to the feelings of…” Severus broke off and looked away for a moment as Harry’s heart sank.
“No! No, no, no.” Taking a step toward Severus, Harry held out his hand beseechingly. “Severus, Ginny came on to me and I turned her away! I told her I…that I…loved…I loved you!” His voice was filled with desperation and he broke off, mentally willing Severus to stop and listen.
Severus turned to look at him then and Harry was stunned by the loathing he saw on his lover’s face, any hope that Severus could have returned his affection, writhing and dying inside him.
“You will not manipulate me any further with your despicable lies, Potter! I won’t listen to this any longer!”
Bleakness filled him as Harry looked up into the angry, unyielding eyes. It was a bleakness that made him stagger, just as it had when he’d been wearing Slytherin’s necklace, like the Darkness was once more leeching the life out of his soul.
“My apologies, Sev…sir, I thought we…I was only…”
“I have no desire to hear your pathetic excuses, Potter! It’s just another example of your immaturity, acting without thinking! How do you expect me to trust you with this child when you can’t even be trusted to keep your affairs private! Get out of my sight, you disgust me!”
There was no strength in the legs that Harry stood on; his whole body was trembling with a pain that went soul- deep. Stumbling slightly, Harry pulled himself stiffly erect and silently moved to the steps. The journey to the room he’d shared with Severus for the past month seemed to stretch out forever, the darkened nursery mocking him as he walked by. A single spell packed his belongings into a conjured bag and Harry banished it to Grimmauld Place, not particularly caring whether it would survive the distance.
His eyes burning with tears he refused to shed, Harry made his way back downstairs. Looking straight ahead, willing his legs to carry him, Harry stopped to set down the legal document he’d had drawn up in the days before hope had made him believe in foolish dreams. Without a sound or allowing himself a look back, Harry slipped out the door and stumbled down the path into the darkness. The darkness that matched the hole ripped in his heart.
The snick of the door latch told Severus that Potter had finally left. The body he’d held rigid since the Prophet had appeared that afternoon sagged and Severus lowered himself to the sofa. He had known Harry wouldn’t stay, that it was just a matter of time before the young man found someone else, but Severus had not anticipated the pain he would feel when it happened. Harry had quietly forced Severus to acknowledge his presence and reevaluate his opinion of him, only to betray his trust. It angered Severus even more, that he’d allowed the intrusion into his life to go so deeply in only ten weeks. Ten weeks.
The baby moved, startling Severus out of his thoughts. Slipping his hand inside his robes, Severus pressed it against his belly as his son moved again. Indeed, he thought, life went on, despite the disappointments one suffered. His stomach rumbled in protest of its empty state even though Severus had no appetite. As the anger abated, Severus grasped firmly onto his self-righteous indignation to hold the hollowness at bay. Damn Potter and his immaturity! His stomach rumbled again, louder, and Severus rose with a sigh.
Waving up the torches brighter, Severus stood in the center of the kitchen. Potter had done the majority of the cooking of late and Severus had no idea what was in the cupboard. An enticing aroma drew his attention to the take-away containers on the table, spelled to stay warm and his stomach gurgled in anticipation. At least Harry…Potter had been smart enough to cater to him, Severus thought as he summoned a fork. At least Potter had been adaptable and resourceful, Severus thought maliciously, in bed and out. The Weasley chit would never be able to satisfy the eager lover Severus had tutored in the pleasures of the flesh.
The spicy food was no doubt delicious, but Severus barely tasted it, his mind cycling back through the moment he’d seen that picture. ”It’s backwards! I was pushing her away, Severus!” indeed! The betrayal and anger struck him anew and the food sat heavily in his stomach. Severus pushed the cartons away and sat back, his eyes landing on the bags of potion ingredients that Harry had left on the counter. An odd spasm in his chest made Severus angry. He hadn’t asked Potter to pick up the supplies he needed; why should Severus care that he’d gone out of his way to do so?
Standing abruptly, Severus tidied the kitchen with a wave of his wand and stormed back to the sitting room to retrieve his journal. Pointedly ignoring the absence of the clutter he’d come to associate with Harry…Potter, Severus stopped as he saw a thick roll of parchment sitting beside his book. The seal told him it was a legal document certified by the official solicitor who worked for Gringotts. A murmured spell revealed no hexes and Severus picked up the scroll gingerly, sinking into his chair.
Breaking the seal, Severus saw that the first sheet of parchment was a formal letter dated 1st August 1998 and addressed to him. It listed a number of assets that had been transferred into his name to be used as Severus saw fit, along with several more to be held in trust for “Baby Snape”. His lips curled as Severus tossed the scroll onto the floor. He neither needed nor wanted Potter’s money as he was more than capable of supporting his own child! A piece of lighter weight parchment fluttered out, landing at Severus’ feet and he frowned as he recognized the writing.
1 August 1998
Professor Snape,
I accept full responsibility for putting you in this situation and will do anything you decide is proper and appropriate to redress these wrongs. If you would please just let me know what you feel is necessary, but I don’t hold out much hope that you will contact me.
In light of that, please find enclosed several legal documents I’ve had drawn up in hopes of rectifying what I have done. One is the disbursement of the inheritance I would have left to any child I might have had and funds to help with raising this child. The second is a document the solicitor said would relinquish to you any rights I might have regarding the baby. If you are reading this, then I have not been able to convince you to allow me into your lives and this is the only way I can think of to make it right.
Please, sir, give this child the childhood neither of us had. All I ask is if you could possibly see your way to telling the child that I could not have loved him or her more if the question is ever asked.
Finally, as it is your wish, I will never bother you again.
Good bye,
Harry Potter
There was an ache in Severus’ throat that he couldn’t account for and he tried to swallow it. Potter seemed sincere in his desire to do only what Severus wanted, including removing himself completely from Severus’ life. The image of Harry’s devastated face floated up in his memory and Severus tried to push it away. What did he care if the brat was upset that he’d been caught! The ache in his throat was moving down to his chest as Severus considered the prospect of never seeing Harry again. He dropped his head into his hands, assaulted by memories of the young man as he’d taken care of Severus these last few weeks: the little things that he’d done simply because he knew it would make Severus more comfortable; the feel of those callused fingers rubbing lotion into his feet and his belly; that inane soft toy; the first kiss they had shared…
The ache was making it hard for Severus to draw a deep breath as he thought of the responsive, enthusiastic young lover he’d just ejected from his life. Long strides took him upstairs, where Severus found all of Harry’s belongings gone, yet a glance into the nursery showed him the Hungarian Horntail still sitting on the baby’s cot. Harry had been devoted to this child and, it seemed, to Severus; why would he jeopardize all of this after working so hard for it? It was puzzling to Severus and Merlin knew he hated puzzles. What if Harry had been serious in the letter and Severus would never see him again? Something seemed to tear apart in his chest at that thought and Severus pressed his hand against his sternum as he sank down on a chair. Harry had said that he loved him this afternoon even as Severus scoffed in his face. Somehow, Severus suddenly realized, the young man had breached his defenses.
Somehow, Harry Potter had become important enough to Severus to hold the power to hurt him. Was that love? Severus didn’t know, but whatever it was it made him ache at the mere thought of never seeing Harry again. He stood abruptly, the letter clenched in his hand and began to pace angrily. Bloody inconvenient of the brat to have left tonight of all nights! All Hallows Eve was for celebrating, for honoring their beloved dead, not hunting down despondent teenagers. That gave him pause. How devastated had Harry been? Certainly he was not so hopeless that he would do anything stupid; surely there was too much Gryffindor in him, wasn’t there?
An hour later, Severus had to admit to feeling frazzled and not a little apprehensive when he had not located Harry. The ache in his chest hadn’t abated as Severus found himself checking with various people Harry might have fled to, exposing himself to the very ridicule he’d sworn Harry would bring down on him. He’d suffered through Poppy’s scathing lecture on his inability to trust and Andromeda Tonks’ blatant curiosity as he inquired after Harry. Hermione Granger had given him a shrewd look when he’d tersely Flooed her apartment, casually mentioning she’d been in Diagon Alley when Harry had sent the Weasley girl on her way.
“If Harry were as upset as I suspect he was when he left your house, Professor, I don’t think he would have Apparated. You might check around Godric’s Hollow itself.”
Severus gritted his teeth as he murmured his thanks for her help and Summoned his cloak. The October air was crisp as Severus walked toward the village. Stopping near the ruins of Bathilda Bagshot’s cottage, he slipped his wand into his hand.
“Point Me Harry Potter!” Severus cast the directional spell in a commanding voice.
Slowly his wand swung in an arc on his open palm, pointing down the darkened roadway toward the sleepy village. It was almost moonrise and Severus shivered. The veil between the worlds was becoming very thin and there were souls here that would not be friendly to him. Picking up his pace, Severus wasn’t surprised when the spell led him towards the small church and through the kissing gates.
The ambient light silhouetted the hunched figure seated on the ground at the Potters’ graves. As Severus drew nearer, the baby moved restlessly, as if able to feel the closeness of his other parent. The night air held a chill and the fool boy had been out here for hours without the benefit of a cloak, but Harry seemed unaffected. Severus moved closer, making no attempt to hide the sound of his approach to stand in front of him.
“You will catch your death there, Potter.”
Dull green eyes looked up at him slowly. “It doesn’t matter, really, does it?”
A hand closed around his heart as Severus saw the emptiness in those eyes. The imbecile had taken something, Severus was sure of it, and reaching down, he hauled Harry to his feet. The action seemed to take Harry by surprise and he stumbled against Severus, who took full advantage of it to pull him close. Harry stood stiffly against him; his hands trapped between them as Severus scrabbled in the pockets of his robes to find the bezoar he knew he had to have.
“Foolish boy! How dare you try to poison yourself! Selfish, unthinking, arrogant brat!”
“I didn’t take anything, Professor,” Harry whispered brokenly. “I was just trying to find a reason to go on.”
Harry trembled slightly and Severus wrapped his arms around the slim figure, pulling him deeper into his warmth. Comfort was not something he was very familiar with and he lacked the knowledge of how to give it. The words Severus wanted to say seemed to stick in his throat and he could only tighten his arms around the young man who seemed to have become more important to him than life itself. The shaking intensified, but Harry still stood silent and rigid within the circle of his arms. An unfamiliar feeling of panic shot through him, and Severus gave in to the instinct that screamed at him to act. Carefully, Severus lowered his head until his cheek rested against the chilled raven hair.
Harry made a noise, something halfway between a gasp and a sob, Severus thought as he tentatively rubbed his cheek against the soft hair. “I…we are both needed for Samhain. It is not a ceremony one conducts alone.”
“I can’t…” Harry drew a deep breath against him. “I can’t go anywhere with a man who doesn’t trust me.”
There was only one thing he could do, Severus knew, to rectify this wrong, but that knowledge didn’t make the task any easier. “I may have been hasty in my assessment of…”
The brat had the audacity to snort and Severus directed a glare at the tousled head before clearing his throat. “I misinterpreted the implications of the picture and believe you had finally recognized your folly and were returning to her.” He was unable to stop the blasted quaver in his voice.
“You were jealous?” Harry asked softly, his body relaxing enough to finally lean into Severus’ warmth.
“I might have been unsure as to the true distribution of your affection.” Severus said quietly.
An arm snaked around his waist and Severus buried his face in the sweet smelling hair. “I will endeavor to try harder in the future to have more faith.”
Harry leaned back against his arms enough to look up into his face and Severus held himself open to the scrutiny. After several long moments, the young man nodded once, pressed himself against him and buried his face against Severus’ neck. Closing his eyes, Severus rejoiced in the feeling of relief that flowed through him.
“I meant what I said, Severus.” Harry’s breath feathered warmly across his throat. “I love you.”
“How do you know for certain?” It slipped out before Severus could stop it, his insecurity laid bare.
Shifting closer, Harry brought one hand around to stroke the side of Severus’ rounded belly as he spoke hesitantly. “Because I felt like I was dying inside when you told me to leave, but all I wanted was for you and our son to be happy. Even if that meant never…” Harry’s voice broke. “…never seeing either of you again.”
Severus brought a hand up to tug gently on the soft hair until Harry tilted his head back, searching the brilliant eyes knowing the rest of his life hinged on his next words. “I…I must admit to sharing your sentiments.”
Laughing softly, Harry leaned up to brush his lips against Severus. “I’ll take that as a declaration of love in Snape-speak.”
Severus gathered Harry flush against him and kissed him with all the desperate emotion he could never give voice to.
Harry couldn’t stop staring at the small bundle in his arms. Hardly bigger than the Welsh Green dragon soft toy that sat in the crook of Harry’s arm, little Evan Snape was making faces as he worked to wake himself up.
“He’s so tiny, Severus!”
Severus sat propped up against pillows, a bemused expression on his face as he glanced up from the equally tiny baby in his arms. Keenan slept contentedly, older than his identical twin by less than five minute. Evan having been discovered as Poppy had gone to heal the birthing incision, much to everyone’s surprise.
“Which is no doubt why that charlatan of a mediwitch didn’t detect his presence prior to this evening.”
“I heard that, Severus!” Poppy Pomfrey’s voice drifted to them from the sitting room.
Harry moved to sit gingerly on the edge of the bed he shared with his partner, the slight weight of his son a precious burden. Severus reached out with his free hand and stroked a finger along Evan’s pert nose, his eyes lifting to meet Harry’s.
“Perfect.”
Harry glanced from each of their sons and back to the man he loved, smiling as he saw the emotion that Severus no longer tried to hide from him. He captured Severus’ hand in his, entwining their fingers.
“Yes, absolutely perfect, love.”
~finis
