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Chapter Text

Summary

                Harry had hoped that death was going to be peaceful. Opening his eyes to a new type of pain and suffering was not what he thought was going to happen when he walked into the forest. He had traded one hell for another. Or so he thought.

Chapter 1

                “Avada Kedavra!”

                The words wrung in his ears long after they were no longer in the air. He felt suspended in time and space, the moment after the curse hit him seemed to last forever.

                And then he was falling, and everything faded as he hit the ground.

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                Time seemed to have lost all meaning. Muffled sounds and light seemed to reach him through a long tunnel. He drifted forever in a motionless sea, reliving the horrors he had seen during his short life. Wasn’t death supposed to be peaceful? Where were his mum and dad? Was he doomed to wallow in his own miseries forever?

                He hoped not.

                He became aware of a steady beeping and soft voices but was unable to make out what they were saying. He seemed to be laying on a bed, but any other sensory input was overshadowed by the images playing in front of his eyes.

                Pictures of a life different than his own were rolling like a horror story in his mind. Images of a childhood, way worse than anything the Dursleys had ever done. Worse than the cupboard under the stairs. Worse than going several days without food and being fed through a cat flap. Worse than being chased by Dudley and his gang or getting sunburned in the garden pruning Aunt Petunia’s rose bushes.

                What was happening? Why was he seeing this? Was this his life?

                The beeping near him grew more frequent, the voices grew closer, there was a pinch to his arm and suddenly he couldn’t bring himself to care any more about the weird memories of a little boy he didn’t know.

                He drifted once more.

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                He wasn’t dead. This was the conclusion he had finally come to. His life as Harry Potter had ended, but he had been thrust into the body of another. He had memories that were not his. They surfaced in his mind at night and he was left screaming himself horse as they played in his mind. The voices always soothed him, or they attempted to, but in the end, they usually ended up drugging him and he was pulled under the surface of the water once more.

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       In a castle all the way in Scotland, an old professor supervised the creation of this year’s letters to first years. Separating ones to muggleborns so they could be hand delivered. Her hand paused over a name which had caught her eye.

Mr. H Snape

The Last Room on Level 6

Bristol Royal Hospital for Children

Bristol

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                        He was finally awake. He had stopped drifting several days ago and had awoken to bright lights and a sterile hospital room. He was no longer hooked up to a variety of machines, a feeding tube and IV the only things still. The maddening beeping had stopped, and he was finally left in silence.

                He was currently sitting by a large window, gazing out at the small courtyard several floors below. Every so often a nurse would come in and say something in a soft voice. Sometimes they’d bring food, other times they tried to encourage him to move around, but Harry never shifted his gaze away from the window.

                        Days passed in this manner.

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                Shock. That was the predominant emotion that Severus Snape felt. His eyes were locked onto the envelope that McGonagall had thrust at him. He stared at the name on the thick parchment and his hands started to shake. How was this possible? He had no living relatives. Snape was not a magical surname. Who was this child? Was it a mere coincidence?

                His eyes traveled up to look at the Deputy Headmistress. She wore an expression that was probably a mirror to the one he wore on his own face. He looked back down at the letter. He hoped that this turned out to be nothing, but in his gut he knew it wouldn’t.

                They walked down a long white hallway in the children’s hospital in Bristol. He had chosen Minerva to accompany him. A hospital employee walked just in front of them, wringing her hands and speaking in a hushed, but quick voice. Her words barely registered in his mind, so lost was he in his own thoughts.

                “The lad has been here for a few weeks. He is scheduled to be moved to a long-term care ward tomorrow. We did not expect anyone to come enquiring about him…” The question was obvious in her voice, but Severus ignored it, letting Minerva prattle on with a lame excuse.

                They finally came to the very end of the hall and stepped into a small room. His eyes immediately went to the bed, but it was empty. A tray of food sat uneaten on a bed side table. He flicked his gaze up and his breath caught in his throat.

                No. This wasn’t going to be a mere coincidence.

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                Harry heard the soft footfalls of several people entering the room. He was sat in his usual spot by the window. He did not turn to greet the people intruding on his silence. Call him rude, he did not care. He heard the nurse explaining to the intruders about what had landed him there. She gave a very glossed over version. Her explanation of events did not even come close to touching the horror that this body had gone through.

                After several moments of silence, he realized that she had stopped talking at some point. They had probably asked him something, but he had no intention of answering any of their questions. They knew this. He had ignored every attempt to engage him by hospital staff.

                Suddenly a dark shadow entered his peripheral vision and he tensed.

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                Severus’ gaze was fixed on the small boy sitting next to a large window. He had wavy black hair that just brushed the top of his ears, and he wore a simple pair of striped pajamas. He did not turn to greet them, nor did he acknowledge that he had heard them.  Unease stirred in his gut.

                “The boy was brought in after a fire at one of the local orphanages,” her voice sounded loud in the quiet room. “He was not in great shape and had to be kept in a medically induced coma for two weeks. He woke about a week and a half ago but has been unresponsive to staff ever since.”

                Severus let her words wash over him once more as he took a cautious step towards the boy. Behind him, the nurse and Minerva continued to quietly talk. He knew she would relay to him anything important that he missed, but right now he needed a closer look at the child. Several more steps brought him right alongside the little boy, and he let himself peer out to see what the child was looking at. In the courtyard below, several small children ran around with their families. His gaze flickered up to look at the child’s expressionless face.

                No, definitely not a coincidence for the child to have his surname.

                The child in front of him had many of the Prince characteristics that he himself had not been fortunate enough to inherit. High cheekbones and strong eyebrows graced the young face. Dull green eyes stared emptily out the window. The boy had tensed his shoulders when Severus had stepped close, and they were still tense now, but the child still did not acknowledge him.

                Severus let his eyes wander of the boy’s form. The boy was small. Smaller than any other eleven-year-old he had ever seen. He was a small waif of a child. Skinny hands gripped the sides of the chair he was sitting in and two tiny, socked feet came nowhere close to touching the floor. He was a skeleton. A feeding tube could be seen going through his nose, the uneaten food flickered through his mind. The child was not eating and looked like he’d had very few meals in his life to begin with.

                What had happened to this boy?

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                Severus Snape had never wanted to be a father. He had never considered the possibility. But suddenly being a father was a reality. The tiny boy in the hospital was without a doubt his. How, he did not know. His mind went over every relationship he had 11 years ago. There had been a few women he had seen at that time, but none of the relationships had progressed far and none were ever meaningful.

                They had forged paperwork to have the child transferred into their custody. Minerva had summoned Madam Pomfrey from Hogwarts and she was being briefed on the boy’s medical condition. Throughout all of this, Severus remained in his spot next to the child, Minerva’s hand on his shoulder.

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                Harry become aware that something was different. More people were coming and going and the dark shadow next to him had not moved away. He turned his head slightly and for the first time removed his eyes from the window.

                Severus Snape was standing before him. Alive.

                Harry had known that he had at least been reincarnated, or maybe cast into the body of a boy who lived in another time or universe. But he had not expected to see the ghosts of his past before him so soon after his arrival.

                He was so lost in his thoughts that he barely noticed being transferred into a wheelchair. He was being pushed down the long white hallway. He had never exited his room. He watched, vacantly, as they passed rooms, some occupied, others not.

                Part of him knew he should be paying more attention to what was going on around him, but he was so numb. He vaguely registered the sun on his face before a vial was pressed against his lips and he obediently drank the sleeping draught. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

                Severus Snape sat with his head in his hands in the quiet hospital wing. In the bed beside him lay a young boy with wavy black hair. The child was fast asleep, aided by dreamless sleep. It had been twenty-four hours since they had gone to the muggle hospital and found the boy. In that time, Severus’ whole world had been turned upside down. He had a son. The medical scans performed by Poppy had confirmed what he had already known to be true.

                Harrison Jai Snape was a severely underweight and abused little boy. Medical scans indicated a lifetime of abuse at the hands of his previous guardians. What he had heard from hospital staff was a very glossed over version of what the child had gone through. The boy had more scars on his body than most Death Eaters.

                How had he let this happen? How had this child been unknown to him for so long?

                Severus was an emotional wreck after the sudden discovery of his son. Even Lily, who had stopped by the hospital wing several times to check in on him, had been unable to calm his nerves. How was he supposed to handle a child? And a traumatized one at that. He couldn’t stand homesick first years. How was he going to be able to provide the emotional support that this child needed?

                The sound of footsteps echoed through the hospital wing and a second later a hand appeared on his shoulder.

                “You should lay down and rest. The child will be asleep a while longer, and you will be better equipped to deal with everything if you are well rested,” Poppy said in a soft voice. This was not the first time that she had left her office to try to convince him to rest. However, this was the first time he considered doing so. He had not slept since Minerva had placed that letter in his hands, and he doubts that he will be getting much sleep after the boy wakes up.

                Severus nodded once and stood up, not saying anything as the matron made her way back to her office. He adjusted the blanket around the dark-haired boy gently and then slipped under the blankets in the bed across from his son’s.

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                Harry was not sure how long he slept. His mind was muddled in a way that meant he had been dosed with dreamless sleep. The last thing he recalled was seeing Severus Snape. A man who was supposed to be dead. But that was not right either. He knew he was no longer Harry Potter. He had been killed by Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest. After that was a bit of a blur. He had awoken in some sort of muggle hospital, but his memories were not his own. He had memories, horrific ones of a life before the hospital.

                Had he invaded the body of another child? Had he pushed the boy’s soul out? Who even was he?

                This was not what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to die. He walked into that forest strong because of the knowledge that he would be joining his parents and Sirius soon. He didn’t ask for this. He did not want to live the life of another boy. He was tired. He was meant to move on. Why did shit like this always happen to him?

                Focus Potter.

                A light snore brought him back to himself. His head snapped towards the other person in the hospital wing, and he froze.

            Severus Snape lay prone on the bed across from him, sound asleep. That was a sight he had not expected to see. Only one other time had he ever witnessed the man so vulnerable, and that was when he was bleeding to death.

                Harry looked around the hospital wing. No other beds were occupied besides the two they were in. Madam Pomfrey’s office door was open, so he assumed she was in there and had not yet noticed that he was awake. Not wanting to alert her, he quietly slipped from the bed and small, socked feet touching the cold stone floor. He padded silently on unsteady legs over to the giant windows that lined the hospital wing and peered out onto the grounds.

                No evidence of the battle he left behind greeted him.

                There is no Ron or Hermione either.

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                Severus Snape was not a deep sleeper. He awoke suddenly, not realizing what had startled him out of sleep. His eyes darted over to the bed beside him, and he shot out of bed when he realized it was empty. Panicked, he quickly scanned the hospital wing for the missing boy, only to quickly see him standing by the windows.

                The boy was all but pressed against the glass. Almost like he thought that if he pressed hard enough, he could appear on the other side. Hearing him move, the boy turned his head and stared at him.

                Severus made sure his face showed nothing of the nerves he felt and slowly made his way towards the child, inching his way over as if he were approaching a cornered animal. The boy did nothing but stare quietly at him, face void of any real emotion.

                Severus stopped several feet away from the boy, staying out of his personal space, and crouched down, kneeling on the ground so that he was the same height as the child.

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                What the heck is Snape doing? The man in question was crouched in front of him on the stone floor, likely getting his robes dirty. The professor did not seem to care, however, and instead started talking to Harry in a soft voice that was completely out of character.

                “You are safe,” Snape said gently. “You have been transported to the Hospital wing at Hogwarts school in Scotland.”

                Harry made no move to respond, staying by the window and staring blankly at the potions professor.

                “You are safe,” the man repeated.

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                Severus had dealt with several abused children in his time as a professor. He had dealt with angry and tearful children. He had dealt with withdrawn and broken children. He had never dealt with a child as damaged as his son. It had been almost a week since the boy was discovered and brought to Hogwarts. They moved him out of the hospital wing and into his rooms four days ago. Since then, Severus had developed a routine for the boy to help him adjust. He felt that if the boy felt secure in his environment, that he might open up a bit more and become comfortable with his new life. Unfortunately, he had made no progress and Severus felt more like a failure with each and every day.

                The child still did not eat the food placed in front of him. The ugly feeding tube was gone, but they spelled nutrition potions into him several times a day. The boy also refused to make eye contact or speak. He was a ghost of a child. As if a dementor had sucked his soul out and only a husk was left. Four days ago he had brought the child to his rooms, and he had hoped that he would have made some progress with the boy. He was failing to do so.

                He was a failure of a father. Not only did he not even know his own child existed, but said child was subjected to probably the worse case of abuse of a magical child in the muggle world in a very long time. While Harrison was in the hospital wing, he took it upon himself to look into the boy’s past. He was horrified at the little he could find.

                The child had been left at Wool’s Orphanage in London as a toddler. From there he had been adopted and returned several times until the age of 5 when the adoptions seemed to come to a halt. After that there were no records of him. He did not attend school with the other children and most of the orphanages’ records were lost in the fire.

                The fire.

                The fire itself was suspicious and if Severus was being completely honest with himself, he had suspected that it had been magical in its origin. Given the scars on the boy’s skin, he would not be shocked if the child’s accidental magic had sparked the fire.

                He had spoken to a few of the older children who had resided at the orphanage, but few had seen his son or knew very much about him. It was like he was completely isolated, hidden from the muggle children that he lived with. The matron of the orphanage had died in the fire. There were so many missing pieces to the puzzle, and the boy himself was not likely to offer any of the information.

                The child in question was currently pressed up against a portrait that was spelled to show the Hogwarts grounds.  He had noticed how the boy had been so drawn to windows, and given that he lived in the dungeons, he had taken steps to try and make the boy more comfortable. He had also expanded his rooms. A small room was now connected to his own for the boy. For the last several days he had slept with the door between their rooms open so that he could respond quickly to the boy’s nighttime distress.

                The night terrors probably distressed Severus the most. The child was silent during the day. Not a single sound passed between his lips. But at night, he screamed. Severus had made the mistake of peaking into the boy’s mind. The boy was burning. It must have been the fire that had burned the orphanage. Magical flames licked his son’s skin and blackened the wooden floor he was laying on. The screams of other children rent the air and sirens were heard in the distance. The boy did not try to save himself. He made no move to remove himself from the burning building like the other children. It was as if he had embraced his death with open arms and was waiting for death to take him. He did not scream like the other children or how he did while asleep. The boy in the memory was silent during his torture.  

                Severus had not looked into his son’s mind since.

                A gentle knock brought his attention back to the present. He allowed his magic to stretch out and the portrait that acted as a door to his rooms swung open. His best friend stood on the other side. Lily’s presence had been a huge source of relief. She came down daily to check on them, and to watch Harrison so that he could take care of his own personal needs and prep for the coming school year. The school year the Severus began to dread more and more with each coming day. His son was 11. The child that sat staring out at the grounds was supposed to attend classes with his peers in just a few weeks’ time. The child in front of him was not anywhere close to being ready to attend classes. He had yet to say anything to Severus, let alone show any indication that he was capable of taking care of himself. He had very little hope that the boy would be able to independently attend classes in a month. Not for the first time he questioned whether or not he should take his son and leave Hogwarts.

                Lily stepped quietly into his rooms and the door shut softly behind her. Their friendship was likely keeping him from completely breaking down at the moment. Her support meant the world to him. He had never imagined a reality where he was a parent, let alone to a child as delicate as his. He had never wanted to be a parent. He did not know how to be a parent. Lily was quick to help guide him through this new reality and he could not have been more grateful.

                “I picked up his school supplies while we were at Diagon shopping for Harry,” she said softly, setting several bags on his coffee table “minus the wand of course.” Harry Potter. There was a child that Severus was dreading teaching this year. He had of course met the boy and the child was nothing like his mother. Loud, boisterous, and brash. He was the spitting image of his father in every way possible. And spoiled to boot. The brat was going to be the nail in Severus’ coffin this year. How a child of Lily’s could be so spoiled was beyond him. Granted, he was half Potter. The child was very much the dark-haired version of Draco Malfoy. His own son was nothing like them. Silent, observant, and despondent. He doubted his child would ever be like the other children that graced these halls.

                Severus nodded his thanks and moved to the bathroom to take a shower. Lily sat quietly on his sofa, not pestering him with questions, or making a move towards the boy. She pulled out a book and quietly flipped to where she left off yesterday. He didn’t know if he would have been able to do this without her.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

                Harry had always had difficulty handling his emotions. Being slapped by Petunia and beaten by Vernon for showing any sort of emotion did not really foster an environment for developing healthy coping skills. Since dying in the forest, his emotions seemed to be so much stronger. They weren’t something he was able to handle. So, he shut down. He shut down in the muggle hospital after waking, and he shut down in the Hogwarts hospital wing after Snape had said something he had never expected to hear.

                His mind went back to the moment that had changed so much.

                “You are safe,” Snape said gently. “You have been transported to the Hospital wing at Hogwarts school in Scotland.”

                Harry made no move to respond, staying by the window and staring blankly at the potions professor.

                “You are safe,” the man repeated.

                Harry continued to stare at the dark-haired man, giving very little indication that he was listening.

                Severus continued to keep his distance, crouched at Harry’s level. “I am your father Harrison,” Snape said gently, “and you are safe.”

                Wasn’t that a show stopping statement. Harry had frozen even more at those words. His mind whirled with the implications of what this might mean for him in this new body. How had this happened? He was supposed to die. Not get trapped in the body of the child of his potions professor. A man who he did not even like. And the feeling was obviously mutual, even if the man had given his life for Harry in the end.

                He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this.

                So, he did what he had done since waking up in the muggle hospital. He shut down. It was easier that way.

                His surroundings were dulled and muddied when he closed himself off. Words bounced off of him and he could pretend like he didn’t exist. Just like when he was in his cupboard. He was good at pretending like he didn’t exist.

                Time seemed to lose its meaning in this state. Was he occluding? He wasn’t sure. Nor did he particularly care. Maybe if he pretended hard enough, he would cease to exist entirely.

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                The morning of September first shinned brightly on Hogwarts. The day that Severus had been dreading more with every passing day was finally here, and he was not prepared to deal with what the day would bring. He had no idea how his son was going to react to being around so many children. They had barely left their rooms in the last few weeks. They had eaten dinner in the Great Hall with the other professors a couple of times. The boy had spent that time sat in his seat, staring blankly at the food in front of him, or gazing up at the enchanted ceiling. He didn’t seem to notice the other professors looking at him out of the corners of their eyes or the gentle questions sent his way.

                The same thought echoed through all of their minds. How was this child going to sit in on classes?

                In the end, it was decided that Harrison would in fact attend classes with his peers, however, he would have either Severus or a prefect escorting him everywhere. The child was not to be left alone. And in the event that he needed to leave class, he would be escorted to the hospital wing where Madam Pomfrey could keep an eye on him until Severus could come collect him. It wasn’t ideal, but the professors were hopeful that the lively atmosphere of classes would crack the boy’s tough shell. Severus was doubtful. He did not see anything bringing his son out of his shell anytime soon. Yet here he was sitting aboard the blasted train so that his son could experience his first train ride to Hogwarts.

                The child himself was sitting, as predicted, looking out of the window at the fast-moving countryside. The boy looked very smart in his Hogwarts robes. His hair was carefully brushed and his tie carefully in place. Not that he had completed any of those tasks required to get ready. Severus had dressed his son, like he did every morning because the child showed no inclination to do any of these things for himself. Even after several weeks he was an empty husk. Nothing seemed to crack the blank, broken look in his eyes. Nothing seemed to reach the child behind the walls that he had built to protect himself. Severus did not dare to look into his mind again after the last time.

                He didn’t know how his son was going to deal with being surrounded by other children. Hopefully it was better than their trip to Ollivander's. Attempting to buy the child a wand had not gone as planned. Granted, nothing seemed to go as planned.

                They stepped into Ollivander’s shop early one morning, hoping to miss the crowd of people who were sure to rush the alley later in the day. Severus stood quietly; his son’s hand clasped gently in his. The child stood silently next to him, looking blankly around the shop. Ollivander stepped up to the desk, seeming to understand that surprising his guests would not have been well received today.               

                “Severus Snape,” the old wandmaker said in greeting, “ebony and dragon heartstring, 13 inches, rigid.” The old man’s eyes drifted from the potions professor to his son. “And who is this?”.

                Severus’ hand tightened slightly around the boy’s. “This is Harrison,” he said stiffly, “my son.”

                “Interesting,” Ollivander said, eyes shifting between the two of them. “It is not often that I am caught completely by surprise” his eyes returned to Severus’, “but perhaps I am not the only one.”

                “The boy requires a wand, Mr. Ollivander,” Severus said in a clipped tone.

                “Of course,” Ollivander said before turning and swiftly moving between the rows of boxes. No magical measuring tape appeared. The man went straight to business. He stopped and seemingly pulled a box out at random. “Ash and unicorn hair. 11 inches and supple,” he said as he handed over the wand to the boy. Or attempted to. The child made no move to take the wand form the old man. Ollivander’s eyes returned to Severus’. Searching his eyes for an answer to a question that he did not voice. “No,” he said instead, “definitely not.”

                They continued like this for some time. Ollivander would walk away, muttering under his breath, and return with a wand that he would present but not hand over. After a second, he would turn away and fetch another. Not once did Harrison hold a wand. Not once did he wave a wand like all of the other 11 year old’s that entered this shop. He didn’t shatter the glass windows or knock boxes down. Nothing. It was like presenting a stick to a brick wall. After approximately an hour of this, with his son showing no indication of actually knowing where they were, Ollivander pulled a box out from a very dusty shelf in the back of his shop. He gazed down at the box, muttering fervently. “Yes. I wonder,” said the wandmaker as he moved towards them with trepidation.

                “Blackthorn. 12 inches. An usual combination of thestral tail hair and thunderbird feather,” the man made to move closer, but was stopped when a harsh wind blew through the shop. The box in his hand seemed to jump out of his hand towards Severus’ son. The child’s gaze, which had been fixed on something neither of them could see, was now locked on the box hanging in the air in front of him. The lid lifted itself from the box and out floated a wand that was as dark as the boy’s hair. Small, thorn-like protrusions erupted from all sides of the wand, and the handle was twisted into a shape almost like a claw.

                The child’s small hand came up, and the wand floated down to land in his palm. There were no sparks or other outward signs of the wand bonding with its master, but the child and Ollivander seemed to agree that this was the one. They were ushered out of the shop, Severus purchasing a leather wand holster for the boy as well on their way out.

                Why couldn’t anything go smoothly with this child? Later, when he looked up the meaning of his son’s wand, he grew concerned.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

                Dumbledore was nervous. It was not very often that something happened that threw him off balance or surprised him. The discovery of a second magical child at Wool’s Orphanage had done so. Harrison Snape was raised in the same orphanage as Tom Riddle. The same orphanage that had created the worst dark lord to ever walk the Earth had also turned out a second child. To say Dumbledore was worried about the future of the wizarding world was an understatement.

                Those fears were slightly reinforced when he went to see the child in the hospital wing. The child did not look at him and did not respond to his questions. The child seemed to be completely lost in his own world. He was worried how a child, who had thoroughly been broken by muggles, would grow to view the world.

                The last thing the world needed was another Tom Riddle.

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                The upside of being the most hated professor in Hogwarts was that not a single student dared enter the carriage he and his son were residing in. Riding the train was enough of a pain. He was grateful that he did not have to deal with other children barging into their carriage.

                The ride to Hogwarts was spent in silence, which allowed Severus to reflect on life since finding out he was a father. They had settled into somewhat of a routine, and while the boy did not really acknowledge the world around him, he no longer looked like a skeleton. The child would no doubt be the smallest first year to grace the Hogwarts halls, but he did not look like a harsh wind would blow him over. With every passing day the boy looked slightly better. His color had greatly improved and his cheeks had slightly filled out. The boy’s eyes were still blank, but Severus could tell that the boy was in there.

                The potion master continued to reflect on the wand currently strapped to the child’s forearm.  Blackthorn was an unusual wand wood and could be found amongst Aurors and prisoners of Azkaban alike. It had the reputation of being a warrior’s wand. His mind drifted to the cores that resided in his son’s wand. It was not terribly uncommon for a wand to have two cores. In a class of 40 first years, maybe one or two would have a wand with two cores. That wasn’t what concerned Severus.

                Thunderbird tail feather wands were said to be best for transfiguration. They made for powerful wands that were difficult to master. They were rare, and there were old legends of the wands casting spells independently in situations where their masters were in grave danger. 

                Thestral tail hair was known to be a very strong, and rare, wand core. The literature that Severus could find on the subject indicated that this was a very temperamental wand core, and the strength of the wand would depend on his son’s ability to understand himself. If the potion master was being honest with himself, this is what Severus was worried about most. The boy had yet to speak in front of him. How was a child, who had been through hell, going to be able to master this wand?

                His eyes returned once again to the boy that his thoughts had been centered around for the last several weeks and his anxiety over the sorting returned. Where would the boy go? If Severus was considering any other abuse child, the choice would be obvious. Abused children tended to end up in his house. But this child was unlike the abused children he had delt with before. This child was not angry. He was not upset. He wasn’t anything. The child was a human brick wall. The only time he ever made any sound at all was in his sleep. Severus was beginning to think that it wasn’t that the boy refused to talk, but in fact that maybe he could not talk at all. The first time this thought had crossed his mind had sent Severus spiraling. He really had no proof that the child was capable of speaking. The child had yet to utter a word and there was no one alive that could testify one way or another. The other children at the orphanage had not known that his son had existed and the matron of the orphanage passed away in the fire. Severus did not even want to consider how much more difficult the road to recovery would be for the child if this turned out to be true.

Not for the first time Severus considered having the child see a mind healer. He just was not sure how the child would react. He suspected that the boy would completely ignore any adult who attempted to talk to him. Severus knew classes were going to be an issue, and he and the other professors were prepared to have the boy be completely uninvolved in his subjects, but they hoped that being surrounded by other children would help crack the boy’s mask.

He guessed that they would just have to wait and see.

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                The first years congregated in an excited huddle, waiting for Professor McGonagall to return and escort them to the sorting.  Whispers bounced off of the hall walls and as one the first years seemed to vibrate with excitement and anxiety.

                “I heard you have to fight a troll,” exclaimed a red headed male. Another Weasley, do doubt.

                Severus kept his sigh to himself as he was forced to stand off to the side with the first years. He stood mostly in shadow, unnoticed by the young children who were too busy chatting than to scrutinize their surroundings. He had his son’s hand gently clasped in his own. He had asked Dumbledore to allow Harrison to be sorted prior to the other students’ arrival, but the old coot would not budge. Harrison was to be sorted with his classmates, which meant that Severus would be along side of him in front of the entire hall.

                The children’s excited chatter was cut short by the return of Minerva. “Form a line,” she told them, “and follow me.”

                Severus waited until the students were almost out of sight beyond the Great Hall doors before leading the boy forward. They lurked outside of the doors while Minerva started the sorting ceremony. He kept half of his attention on the sorting and the other half on his son. The boy was staring off into space seemingly unaware of the children in the room before them.

                Just before they reached the letter S, Severus started through the doors.

                “Snape, Harrison!” Minerva’s voice echoed through the hall and whispers sprung up amongst all the house tables. That was not a name any of the other students had expected.

                Severus stepped forward, his son in tow, and walked towards the stool. He did not lift the child onto the stool, as he did not want to surprise the boy. Instead, he instructed Minerva to place the hat on the boy while he was standing next to her. And then they waited. And waited.

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                Something was over his head. Harry was not aware of much going on around him. Getting his new wand was one of the few things that had cut through the layers of fog he had built around himself. The feeling of a large hat dropping onto his head and covering his eyes was something he had experienced before.

                “Hmm,” said a familiar voice in his head, “Difficult.” Well, wasn’t this a case of déjà vu. That was exactly what the hat had said to him the first time. “First time?” questioned the hat in his head. “Ah yes I see. Yes. Very difficult. Gryffindor suited you well, but I am not so sure that is where you belong now. Definitely not Ravenclaw.” A part of Harry panicked at the thought of ending up anywhere but Gryffindor but honestly, as long as he wasn’t in Slytherin.

                “Not Slytherin? Are you sure?” the stupid hat was literally repeating itself in this life.  

                Yes, Harry thought, anywhere but Slytherin. Harry did not think he could stand to be surrounded by future Death Eaters every day. He did not want to see the faces that had participated in the killing of his friends.

                “Yes, your friends. You are a loyal one aren’t you,” mused the hat.

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                Severus was becoming increasingly stressed as he watched his son twitch under the Sorting Hat. It had been several minutes since the hat had been placed on the boy’s head, and while Severus did very well at not showing his anxiety, the longer it took for the child to be sorted the more anxious he became. Mutters had started at the different house tables. Questions about why they had never seen him before if he was indeed the potion master’s son were particularly loud to Severus’s ears.

                He did not care where the child was sorted, he just hoped that he was able to make friends.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

                “Hufflepuff!”

                The hat was pulled from his head and Harry was pulled to the yellow table by his potions professor amongst a slightly reserved applause. It was no where near the same reception he received as Harry Potter, and Harry was perfected okay with that. Snape sat him down between another first year and a prefect, squeezed his shoulder, and then made his way up to the head table.

                Suddenly Harry was alone with other children for the first time since the battle and the fire at the orphanage. The hat had pulled him out of his own mind and Harry sat at the Hufflepuff table taking in the different sounds around him while staring down at his empty plate. The sorting was still going on in the background, but Harry did not much care to listen. No, he listened to the collective breathing and random noises that the hall full of children made. The random tapping sound from the Gryffindor table from a boy impatiently drumming his fingers against the table.  The quite whispers between two friends further down the Hufflepuff table, reunited after a long break.

                His eyes drifted upwards, as they typically did while in the Great Hall. Or they tried to. His gaze halted on a familiar face. Wavy brown hair and brown eyes. The face was younger than in his memories. Less pale. And alive.

                Cedric Diggory was sitting alive and right across from him.

                Kill the spare!

                The fog that had temporarily lifted returned as his mind did everything in its power to protect him from his most painful memories.

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                Pomona Sprout was not apprehensive about the young Snape being in her house. She had expected it. For the Hat would know that the child would find the most support amongst her puffs. The feast had ended and as usual she led her students to their common room to help them settle in their dorms. This time, however, she had a small hand gently clasped in her own.  Immediately after the child’s sorting, she had made eye contact with the head of Slytherin. In that moment they became a team. United for this boy who had suffered so much.

                She led her puffs into the Hufflepuff common room where they gathered around her, eyes darting to look at the dark-haired boy at her side. Questions danced in their eyes but they were not voiced. She glanced down at her charge and found the boy staring with glazed eyes at something they could not see. Her hand tightened around his. Professor Sprout went through her normal introduction, saying a couple of things about herself, addressing expectations, introducing prefects, and listing out her office hours.

                Approximately fifteen minutes into her speech, the hidden entrance to their common room slid open and several students jumped in surprise as the dour potions professor stepped across the threshold. Students watched in stunned disbelief while their head of house, still holding the dark-haired boy’s hand, met the potion’s professor half way. He nodded to her and the child’s hand was quietly passed from one adult to the other. No words were said until father and son had left and the door slid shut behind them. Questions hung in the air and a few whispered words were exchanged between the upper years.

                Pomona decided to nip the rumors in the bud fast. “Harrison Snape is in fact Professor Snape’s son,” she said to a silent common room. “Harrison was recently discovered and until a few weeks ago lived in a less than ideal situation. He has suffered greatly and carries a lot of scars, both of the body and the mind. He needs the friendship and loyalty of Hufflepuff more than anyone and I expect my students to treat him with kindness and respect. To watch out for him in and outside of class. Prefects, I will be asking for volunteers as the boy will need help getting to and from class. He will be staying in Professor Snape’s rooms for the time being, which is why Severus came to collect him.”

                Her puffs looked at her with varying expressions. Some students appeared slightly shell shocked. The students old enough to infer about the type of situation the boy must have come from wore saddened expressions. Students around the room nodded and she smiled softly, Hufflepuff really was the greatest of the four houses.

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                Classes had not even started yet and Severus was exhausted. After escorting his son back to their rooms, he had bathed the boy and tucked him into bed. A bottle of fire whiskey sat on the table next to him in front of a roaring fire. He was not prepared for tomorrow. Not only did he not look forward to teaching on the first day of term, but he was stressed about his son attending classes. His colleagues had all agreed to allow the boy in their class, but they had no idea how the child would react. He was not sure how the boy would react to the other first years attempting magic around him. He anticipated that Harrison would be spending large amounts of time in the Hospital wing.

                He raised a tumbler of whiskey to his mouth, took a sip, and sighed. No, he was not looking forward to the first day of the term at all.

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                The first few days of term passed in a daze for Harry, as time typically did for him in this world. He let the voices of his peers and professors drift over him without a care. He sat where placed and stayed there until directed to stand. He did not pay attention to his lessons, which meant he did not participate in class or do homework. Little effort was made to make him engage in the present and Harry was allowed to drift from day to day disconnected from those around him. Sometimes a sound would catch his attention and he would float to the surface but before arousing completely he would be swallowed by the abyss. The only moments where he was consistently in the present was immediately after a nightmare, which occurred almost nightly. To his shame he relied on the secure presence of his potions professor in these moments. After the first couple of weeks, he began to lean into the man’s warm embrace, soaking in the comfort offered to him. These times of awareness were brief and come daytime he was quick to disassociate again, but he relied on these quiet moments to retain some level of sanity. Harry would surely have drowned entirely if not for the quiet support of Severus Snape, his hand rubbing gently across his back and soft words of reassurance whispered to him. This also scared him. He did not want to come to rely on anyone. It had never worked out for him before. No, best to distance himself in any way that he could.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6
Severus felt guilty dreading having his son in his classroom, but he was. The child was clearly not able to participate in a subject as involved as his, so he had decided to have a small desk placed next to his desk. The boy would sit there while he kept an eye on his students. Until the boy started engaging with his surroundings, this was really the only feasible option for him to attend potions.

A knock sounded from the portrait guarding his chambers and he allowed his magic to open the door. Lily greeted him and stepped quietly into the room. His eyes were immediately drawn to the bag in her hands. “I thought some of Harry’s old toys may catch Harrison’s interest,” she said in a soft voice, her eyes darting over to the boy in question. The child was, as predicted, sitting next to his enchanted portrait of the school grounds. She approached him on quiet feet, sitting down beside him on his sofa. She diligently removed several of the items, placing them on his coffee table. There appeared to be a mix of magical and muggle toys, all of which were geared towards younger children. A rubber duck was the first to be placed on the table and Severus held in a snort at the ridiculousness of a rubber duck existing in his quarters. Several muggle and magical themed coloring books were next to be placed on the table as well as some muggle crayons. Severus had refocused on the essay he was grading until she pulled out a softly glowing orb. It had been a while since he had seen this toy. It was meant to help children focus their magic. The small orb would glow and become warm to the touch when a child successfully channeled their magic into it. Studies had shown that toys of this nature helped children naturally channel their magic into their wands when they became school aged. Severus reached out a hand and gently touched the toy. Warmth seeped into his fingers and it began to glow brighter.

“Thank you,” he said despite his hopes being low. His son had failed to take interest in anything besides the view and he expected the toys to garner the same response. This weekend he would take the boy on a walk around the great lake, he was hopeful that not only would the fresh air and sun to the boy some good, but that he would show some sign of life. The constantly blank look in his son’s eyes was slowly killing him. The child could not go on in this state indefinitely.

Gentle conversation passed between them as the two childhood best friends relaxed in each other’s company. The adult conversation a welcome relief to the stilted silence that had become of his quarters.

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Severus was tired. The boy had not slept well. He had been up several times during the night to console the child after a nightmare. He agonized over the fact that the child suffered so during the night, but long-term use of sleeping potions was not advised for young children, and the boy was in no way able to learn occlumency in his current state. As such, he knew that he was unlikely to have a peaceful nights sleep for some time.

Bracing himself for the day, he hauled himself out of bed and went through his morning routine, allowing his son to sleep as long as possible. When finished, he gently woke the boy before dressing him for the day and sitting him down at the small dinette. A bowl of porridge sat untouched in front of him and Severus spelled his morning potions into his stomach. His own coffee also sat untouched.

Several minutes later, father and son made their way to the potions classroom. Today was the first lesson for the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw first years. He felt that it made more sense for his son to stay with him so that he could get the boy settled, rather than having him be brought down by a prefect in 45 minutes when breakfast in the Great Hall ended. He sat the child down at the small desk adjacent to the front table and pulled out a coloring book and crayons, placing them in front of the child and flipping the book open to a picture of an owl. His son made no move to color but Severus was not going to force the issue.

Severus prepped the board and readied his classroom, relishing in the silence while it lasted. His eyes darted over to check on his boy every few minutes, but the boy continued to sit unmoving at the small desk. Just as he began to hear students making their way to his classroom, Severus remembered the small orb. He had placed it in his son’s book bag and the boy had yet to see it. He pulled it quietly from his son’s bag, gently grabbed the child’s hands, and placed the orb into his upturned palms.

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Warmth seeping into his hands pulled Harry from the depths of his apathy. He stared down at a softly growing orb resting in his hands, softly pulsing with white light as his magic responded to the small magical conduit. He didn’t look up as the other first years entered the potions classroom. With a jolt he realized that he would not be sitting with his peers. No cauldron sat in front of him. Instead, he had this weird glowing sphere that vaguely reminded him of the Hall of Prophesies and an open coloring book on the desk in front of him. This new development was not unwelcomed. Potions had never been his forte. Harry gazed down at his magical handwarmer as students took their seats, feeling their eyes on him frequently.

Harry continued to hold his new treasure throughout the rest of the day. Drifting from class to class in his usual fashion, being escorted by various prefects who had volunteered to do so. By the time dinner time had arrived, he had yet to set the magical toy down. No one saw the smug look Lily sent Severus’s way.

Harry was content to sit at his house table, not making a move to eat the food on his plate. The orb being wrenched from his hands woke him from the trance he had fallen into. Harry flinched at the sudden contact, shoulders shrugging up to his ears, and his hands clawing onto the table. Angry voices washed over him and quick footsteps were heard as several professors made their way from the head table.

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Lily was horrified watching her son accost Severus’s. She watched in stunned disbelief as her son walked up to the silent boy and ripped the toy out of his hands. As one, Severus, Pomona, and herself stood to make their way to the Hufflepuff table.

Hufflepuffs around the child had stood as well and were making their disgust with the young Potter heir well known. Harsh words were exchanged and several prefects added their two cents. Before they reached the table, her son had thrown the toy back towards its new owner. Before it could connect with the back of the child’s head, the deft hands of the Hufflepuff seeker, Cedric, snagged it from the air. He gently returned it to the boy just as Lily drew up beside her son, quickly grabbing his ear and dragging him from the hall. She sent an apologetic glance at her best friend where he was crouched beside his son, gently running a hand down his back and speaking to him in a soft voice.

She had no idea where she had gone wrong raising her son, but she would be putting an end to his bullying behavior.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Severus had been hopeful that after showing interest in the magical toy that the boy would open up more. This was not the case. If anything after the Potter brat had snatched the toy, his son appeared to withdraw again. There were moments when he would look at the small child and see a flicker of something in his eyes, but that spark quickly receded. As September turned to October and November was fast approaching, no further progress had been made. Severus felt like a complete failure. Lily continued to reassure him that he was doing amazingly well. The fact that the child rarely flinched when Severus touched him anymore was a testament to his hard work. Nevertheless, he could tell the other professors grew more and more concerned about his child’s ability to engage in his own education. Many were starting to voice the idea that the boy did not belong in normal classes. Severus’s heart cracked thinking about his son missing out on the opportunity to attend school with other children. He continued to introduce the child to new things. His quarters now held a chest of magical and muggle toys in an attempt to draw the child out. Thus far, the biggest reaction Harrison had had was to the glowing orb. Nothing else had garnered such a response. Severus vowed to continue trying to crack the walls his son had put up to protect himself.

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A bang sounded from Harry’s right, snapping him to the present. His gaze immediately landed on a smoldering Seamus Finnigan as several students laughed at the boy’s soot colored face. He gripped the table in front of him as he tried to calm his racing heart and the wood cracked under his fingers. The girl next to him paused in her attempt to levitate her feather as she eyed him nervously. Professor Flitwick rushed over to clean the boy up and provide encouragement while Harry let his eyes drift across the room. His breath caught when his eyes landed on the other Gryffindors he shared first year charms with. Ron and Hermione sat bickering over the pronunciation of the levitation charm. They showed no signs of the wear and tear being on the run had caused in his own world. No scars littered Hermione’s face and no shadows shone in Ron’s eyes. Even Ron’s hand-me-down wand was in one piece. His breath hitched and he forced his eyes down to look at his own feather. He had not attempted to use his new wand yet. For some reason he was unable to make himself draw it out of his new holster. He continued staring at his feather until the end of class, taking his orb out of his cloak pocket and listening to the sounds of the other children attempting to levitate their feathers. Eventually his minder, a sixth year male Hufflepuff prefect came to collect him. They left the classroom just as an upset Hermione rushed past a laughing group of boys.

“Hey bud, wait here for a second,” the prefect said to him as the boy’s eyes were drawn to a pretty young Ravenclaw. Without another word the older boy wandered away and Harry was left standing by himself. His mind was drawn back to Hermione’s upset face and his mind went foggy in an attempt to stop the flashback. He stood frozen until a rush of third years from another class filled the hall and he was swept away in the crowd.

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Severus knew immediately that something was not right. He showed up several minutes late to the Halloween feast, delaying attending the ridiculous event. His eyes immediately flashed to the Hufflepuff table and were drawn to his son’s empty seat. The stressed eyes of a prefect met his. Just as he was about to make his way to the table, a bang sounded and a frantic Quirrell rushed into the Great Hall.

“Troll!” he screamed. “Troll in the dungeons!” Severus felt his heart freeze as the man fainted. He immediately started rushing for the door to Great Hall, Lily hot on his heals as the headmaster directed the screaming children to sit in their seats. They would stay together in the Great Hall until the threat had been neutralized. Just as the two friends reached the door, a wave of magic washed over them and Severus started running faster. He knew that magical signature, even if his boy had yet to use his wand.

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Harry wandered the halls in a daze. He did not pay attention to where he was going nor did he care. He let his feet carry him where they pleased, eyes on the small glowing magical toy cupped in his hands.

It was the smell of rotting flesh that caused him to return to the present. His eyes traveled up from his hands and landed on the fully grown mountain troll. The beast seemed even larger than it had in his first life. Its long arms dragging an even larger club. The troll’s eyes landed on the small first year and it roared, raising its club and lumbering towards the child. It was that moment that Hermione chose to step out of the girl’s washroom, she herself freezing in fright at the sight of the troll rushing the Hufflepuff. Harry’s eyes snapped away from the troll and to his old friend when she screamed. Her fear causing his magic to respond to the threat. The glass orb in his hands became hot and shattered as his magic over powered the toy meant for small children. Glass shards embedded themselves into his palms and the pain kept Harry’s mind present. The troll’s face seemed to morph and time seemed to slow. Its ugly face shifting between the matron of the orphanage and Uncle Vernon’s. Anger burned through him and the magical flames that this body had called once before to destroy the orphanage were once again summoned to defend him. Blue flames materialized from nowhere, engulfing the troll as it screamed alongside the first year Gryffindor.

Harry watched as the Troll fell to the ground as it slowly burned alive. Blood dripped from his hands as he stood trembling in the wide hallway. The portraits had fled their frames, running to escape incase the fire spread. Pounding footsteps were heard and Harry’s breath stuttered out of him as the potions professor and Lily Potter rounded the corner.

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Severus’s heart was in his throat as he came upon the scene of the burning troll. The smell of burning flesh hung heavy in the corridor and smoke started to gather upon the ceiling. On the other side of the troll, his small son stood trembling. His magic receding now that the threat had been dealt with. Severus stepped around the body of the troll as the child stumbled towards him, bloody hands outstretched.

“Dad,” the boy gasped as Severus reached him. The potions professor’s breath hitched as he gathered the boy to himself. One arm went under his bum and the other over the center of his back. He easily lifted the boy and stood as the boy curled into his chest. Bloody hands clung to his cloak and a small face tucked itself into the skin of his neck. He held the trembling boy as other professors finally arrived on scene. Miss Granger was ushered to the hospital wing by her head of house. The girl too shocked to voice any of the questions that danced in her eyes. The charms professor made short work of clearing the hallway as he carried his son to the hospital wing.

Lily fell into step beside him and no words were exchanged on their journey. They arrived to the hospital wing just in time to see a chastised looking Longbottom and Weasley being kicked out, having escaped the Great Hall to find Hermione. Minerva had a less than impressed expression on her face as she scrutinized the two squirming first years, berating them for not only leaving the feast but also for the unkind words that landed Miss Granger in the bathroom in the first place. The two boys stared morosely down at their feet until the sound of the approaching professors caught their attention. Two pairs of eyes widened as they witnessed the evil bat of the dungeons cradle the boy in his arms.

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Harry was sat in the potions professor’s lap. His back was against the man’s broad chest and he was wrapped in a pair of secure arms. Madam Pomfrey kneeled on the ground in front of him, using her wand to carefully extract each piece of glass from his bleeding hands. His father whispered comfortingly in his ear, occasionally smoothing a hand over the boy’s hair. Harry’s eyes filled with tears, not due to pain, but as a response to having an adult truly care about his injuries. Maybe this life wasn’t all bad.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

Once the glass had been carefully removed from Harrison’s hands, the small cuts were irrigated, and then magically closed. Only small spots of new pink skin were left behind. A single tear ran down his face and Severus shushed him quietly, softly rocking him from side to side. Severus and Poppy spoke for several minutes and in that time the boy started to sag, the magical exhaustion clearly having caught up with the small first year. Severus maneuvered the child into a reclined position, cradling him in the crook of his arm. Tired, half-lidded green eyes met his and so he bid goodbye to the hospital matron.

Severus opted to walk the distance to the dungeons rather than use the Floo system with the tired boy. As he walked, the child’s eyes struggled to stay open, drifting shut frequently only to snap back open. Severus sped up his steps, wanting to bathe the boy before bed as the smell of burnt troll flesh lingered on him.

The potions professor deftly started the faucet on the tub with a flick of his fingers upon entering their quarters and carried the exhausted child into the master bedroom. He gently laid the boy down on the bed and walked into the bathroom to ready the tub. He poured a dose of a muscle relaxant into the tub, knowing that this would make the child go truly boneless in the warm water. He returned to the lightly dozing child, quickly stripping him and carrying him to the tub. The boy’s eyes didn’t open again until he was placed in the water, at which point he positively melted. A soft sigh escaped from his lips and he sank low into the tub, allowing the shallow water to come up to his chin. Severus chuckled and quietly summoned the rubber duck Lily had brought over. The simple toy, wearing a pirate hat of all things, bobbed in front of the boy as Severus got to work washing the boy’s dark hair.

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Snape owned a rubber duck. With a pirate hat. The absurdity of the idea of a rubber duck existing in the bat of the dungeon’s bathroom caused a smile to form on Harry’s face. Barely withholding a snort of amusement, Harry pushed a wave of water at the little duck, causing it to bob more. He paid little attention as the dark-haired man quickly scrubbed him down, too comfortable in the warm water to be embarrassed. Besides, his new father had obviously been caring for him for the past few months. No Harry just let himself enjoy the feeling of the warm water, tight and exhausted muscles relaxing as he watched the small pirate sail new seas.

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Severus allowed the child to enjoy the bath for several minutes after he finished washing him. His breath catching at every small smile the simple toy seemed to draw out of him. This boy had made him soft. No doubt his reputation would be entirely ruined come the end of the weekend. For a man who never wanted children, he was surprised at the fact that he wouldn’t have it any other way. He was content in this moment to spend the rest of his life trying to make this child smile.

As the boy’s eyes started to drift closed again, Severus spelled the tub empty, wrapped the eleven-year-old in a towel, and carried him from the master bath. He quickly dried and dressed the boy before changing himself. Unwilling to part with his son after such a traumatic evening, Severus climbed into his bed and tucked the child against his chest. Harrison’s ear was quick to find his heartbeat and the boy seemed to curl into him even more. Severus allowed his magic to turn off the light and enclosed the small boy in his arms. Sleep came to the exhausted pair easily and for the first time since Minerva placed that Hogwarts letter into his hands, Severus and his son had a peaceful nights sleep.

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Harry felt like he had been run over by a heard of Hippogriffs, the magical exhaustion from killing the troll with his accidental magic was enough to make him want to sleep for days. Thankfully, the day after the incident happened to be a Saturday and it seemed like the potions professor was content to isolate them in their rooms. Harry spent much of the day dozing, either in one of their beds or on the couch. Snape seemed to stay within line of sight for much of the day, and for that Harry was oddly thankful for as his gut seemed to twist with anxiety at the thought of the dark-haired man leaving him alone. Harry had never felt like this before, and this new development made him weary. He had always been alone and there had always been a sense of safety in solitude.

The man was currently sat on the opposite side of the sofa grading essays and the first year Hufflepuff couldn’t resist scooting over to lean into the man’s left side. The man paused in his correcting for a second in surprise before wrapping his arm around the child and returning to his task. Harry allowed himself to drift to sleep again while snuggled into the man’s side.

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By the time Sunday morning rolled around, Harry felt more like himself than he had in a very long time. When he was sat in front of a bowl of porridge Harry actually managed to take a couple of bites before his stomach rebelled. Despite only ingesting a few bites, the potions professor seemed very pleased with his attempt and did not push him to take further bites.

“I thought that we could perhaps go to Hogsmeade today,” the man said softly into the comfortable silence that had fallen. “I need a few ingredients from the apothecary and I thought maybe you would like to come along and see if anything caught your fancy.” Harry felt a spike of anxiety at the thought of the man going without him, causing him to quickly nod in agreement.

And that was how Harry found himself bundled into a warm cloak and being escorted to the small town by the bat of the dungeons. They went to the apothecary first, Severus quickly selecting the items that he needed while Harry eyed the various oddities on the shelves. From there they went to a bookstore and Harry was quick to pick out a book on the major events in magical history over the last two hundred years. Severus prompted him to pick out a few more and Harry ended up grabbing an illustrative guide on magical creatures and The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Afterwards, they ended up in some sort children’s store that Harry had never seen before. They appeared to have everything ranging from supplies for infants to games for Hogwarts aged children. Harry felt guilty at the idea of the man spending money on childish things such as games and toys. His eyes flashed up to the dark-haired man frequently to gauge his mood, concerned that at any point he could overstep or ask for too much. The man’s face gave nothing away. And so, Harry decided to play it safe.

His eyes were drawn to a row of blankets and Harry moved to run his hands over them. His attention was quickly caught by a dark blue blanket that was decorated with various constellations. Harry reached out a hand to touch the blanket and it magically warmed in his hands and the constellations began to glow softly. Harry gripped the blanket in a tight fist and turned to find the potions professor. The man was watching him from several feet away and was quick to give his approval to Harry’s find. Harry didn’t allow himself to look too closely at the other various items in the shop, his eyes frequently on his feet. His anxiety at being asked to pick out items for himself very clear to the boy’s father. Snape walked a few feet away to look at card games and Harry allowed himself to wander over to the small collection of furniture the store had. Harry quickly found a comfortable spot in a large beanbag type chair, sinking into the squishy material. A soft sigh left Harry’s lips and he relaxed into the chair, covering himself with his blanket.

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Severus had just placed a quiet and less painful version of exploding snap into his basket when he turned and caught sight of the boy. The small Hufflepuff was clearly close to nodding off under the warmth of the blue blanket. Severus huffed a laugh, deciding that it was obviously time return to the school. He quietly placed the items he had selected on the counter and had the cashier add the blanket and chair his son was lounging in to his list of purchases. He shrunk the items and placed them in his pocket before approaching the lightly dozing child.

The Hufflepuff blinked tired green eyes at him as he lifted the boy and settled him onto his hip, shrinking the chair he had made himself cozy in. The child clutched onto him and his blanket as the potions professor carried his son back to their rooms. His reputation as the stern potions professor would likely soon be in tatters, but he could not find it within himself to care.

Chapter Text

Separation anxiety had not been something Severus had been prepared to deal with. He had never had a child choose to cling to him. After the child had woken from his impromptu Sunday nap, he had absolutely refused to let Severus out of his sight. The boy had almost had a panic attack when he had gone to the washroom. Severus had spent much of the evening fretting about what the coming school day would bring, as he feared the boy may have a meltdown come time for him to go to class. Stressed green eyes watched his every movement and Severus knew he would not handle the separation well in the morning.

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Harry stared morosely down at the bowl of plain porridge in front of him in the Great Hall. It was the first day back to classes after the Troll incident and Harry wished with all of his might that it had never happened. The whispers had started and Harry once again found the attention of the wizarding world youth upon him. His eyes flicked up to stare pleadingly up at his newfound father. Snape sat at the head table watching him carefully. His face gave little away for those who were unfamiliar with the man, but Harry could see that the man was feeling stressed, as well. The man nodded his head towards the bowl of food in front of Harry and the child reluctantly took a bite before pushing the bowl away. Beside him the overly cheerful voice of Cedric droned on about something meaningless and Harry resigned himself to a day of having to actually listen and pay attention to those around him. He was not looking forward to it.

While the other children around him wolfed down the food in front of them, Harry felt the anxiety that had plagued him since the day before grow once more, his chest tightening and his skin starting to itch. He had experienced a lot in his previous life, but issues with severe anxiety had never been one of them. Sure, he had felt anxious at times and after Sirius had died he had struggled with depression, but the ice-cold fear he felt in his chest when the potions professor walked away from him had been all consuming. This he had never experienced. Maybe it was the lack of secure attachments in his previous life. He had never had a caregiver to become so attached to. Embarrassment flooded through him when he thought of how he had almost followed the man into the toilet the night before. He was seventeen years old for damn sake. He just hoped that these feelings didn’t last.

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When Draco had been told by his parents that his godfather had a son, he had initially been slightly jealous. Uncle Sev was his and Malfoys did not share what belonged to them. Granted, Severus was not the most paternal of godfathers, but he was Draco’s and that was all that mattered. That jealousy had continued until he saw the small empty boy sat at the Hufflepuff table. His godbrother looked like a ghost. He was unnaturally pale and small, even for a first year. Draco was probably a whole head and a half taller than the other boy. When he saw the completely blank look in his eyes, the jealousy started to change into a protectiveness that Draco had never felt before. When Lily Potter’s rotten son had picked on his godbrother, anger burned hot within Draco’s chest. He may not have actually met his godbrother, or spoken to him, but Harrison was his. Malfoys did not take kindly to one of their own being slighted against.

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His teachers must have had some sort of agreement to make him miserable. Harry stared balefully down at the first-year transfiguration book sat in front of him while the other students worked on transfiguring beetles into buttons. He had been to three classes today, and so far he had been sat aside with the textbook placed in front of him in all of them. It seemed that they wanted him to catch up on the material he had missed.

Harry shifted anxiously in his seat and glanced around the room. The eyes of the other students flicked over to him frequently. Having the eyes of his peers on him made something tighten in his chest and his skin began to itch and burn. When he was Harry Potter, this was a feeling he had experienced a few times, but never this severe. The tightness in his chest seemed to grow despite him trying to take slow deep breaths until the sounds of the classroom started to fade and the edges of his vision started to darken. Harry felt anxiety spike through him again when suddenly a large hand grasped his shoulder, causing him to gasp and flinch harshly.

McGonagall was quick to withdrawal her hand and take a slight step back out of the boy’s personal space. Harry took a deep breath and noticed with dread that the classroom was now silent, all eyes on him and their professor. His hands clawed into the table and Harry bit through his lip in an attempt to ground himself into the present time. McGonagall said something and then was gone for a second. A flash of green and the hospital matron was stepping out of the fireplace in the office connected to the classroom. Madam Pomfrey approached him swiftly, pulling out a potion and holding it to his lips. When Harry turned his head away from the vile, her lips turned down slightly and she spoke in low tones with the transfiguration professor. A second later and Harry found himself being lifted from his chair, causing him to flinch even harder. He attempted to throw himself backwards but the hands of the hospital matron were soft but strong. As Harry found himself being picked up from the ground, the darkness at the edges of his vision grew and the feeling in his chest worsened until the classroom completely faded and Harry knew no more.

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The green flash of his office floo made Severus pause in his rounds around his classroom. Quick strides had him leaving the fifth years he had brewing and he was soon standing in front of the floating head of Poppy, the hospital matron. “Harrison is with me,” she said. “There was an incident in transfiguration and the poor lad had a bit of a panic attack.”

“What happened?” Severus asked, voice tense.

“I believe that he was initially just overwhelmed. Unfortunately, he did not respond well when Minerva and I attempted to calm him down and remove him from class,” Poppy responded.

Severus nodded and told her that he would be by soon to collect the child. Swiftly walking back into his classroom, the potions professor had his students wrap up their work, grading them simply on how their potions looked thus far before vanishing the contents of their cauldrons and dismissing them for the day. He made quick work of cleaning up his classroom before using the floo to enter the infirmary, his eyes were drawn to a small head of dark hair in the bed closest to Poppy’s office. The child was curled into a tiny ball, his brow was furled, and his anxiety permeated the air around him. Poppy was busy speaking with a third year on the other side of the Hospital wing, boils blossomed across his face. He swiftly made his way towards his son, gently sitting down beside him on the bed and carding his fingers through the boy’s wavy hair. After a moment the child’s eyes opened, the anxiety in the air reflected in his son’s green eyes. Whispered reassurances from the potions professor caused the tense child to relax, a small hand was extracted from the plain hospital sheets and gripped onto his robes.

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Harry wasn’t sure what his problem was. He had a total freak out in Transfiguration and nothing had happened. He knew that neither McGonagall nor Madam Pomfrey were a threat to his person. But he hadn’t been able to just breathe. It was like his chest was incapable of expanding and once he started panicking there was no stopping him from spiraling even further. He had continued to refuse a calming draft from Madam Pomfrey after he awoke in the Hospital wing, curling into himself and completely ignoring the woman. His anxiety had persisted until he felt the gentle hands of his new father in his hair and the man’s whispered words of comfort soaked in. After laying his eyes on the dark-haired man, Harry was suddenly able to breathe again. His entire body relaxed and he was quick to grab ahold of the man. This man, who had been the source of so much anger and upset in his previous life, should not have this effect on him. He was 17 years old, not a toddler in need of consoling. But Harry was not able to stop himself from grasping onto the man like the lifeline he had become. When the man lifted him from the bed and held him against his broad chest, Harry couldn’t contain the sigh of relief the close contact brought and he curled into the man, hands continuing to grip his father’s robes.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

Harry was cognizant of the fact that he was whining, 17-year-old him was mortified, but the 11-year-old him could not care less. Snape was tying to leave. The man had sprung the fact that he had a staff meeting on him this morning and Harry had been dreading the separation more and more throughout the day. He had put up with attending classes for an entire week, his chest tight with anxiety and one incident away from hyperventilating. He did not want their weekend routine changed. To add insult to injury, Lady Malfoy had flooed in to be his minder. Absolutely not. Harry was all but scaling the potions professor in an attempt to get him to stay in their quarters, desperate sounds slipping between downward turned lips.

The man sighed and then crouched down to his level, kneeling on the dungeon floor. “You are safe,” the dark-haired man said softly. “Cissa will not harm you and I will return shortly.” Harry continued to shake his head in denial, his small hands grasping frantically onto the man’s cloak. Against his will his breathing started to hitch and he knew that he was reaching cry territory.

Harry was attempting to swallow his emotions and rein in his budding tears when a soft voice spoke from the sofa started speaking to his father in tones too low for him to follow in his emotional state. The man did not answer verbally but all of a sudden Harry was being picked up and cradled against his chest. The potions professor brought him over to the sofa and sat down, reclining him in his arms like one would a small child, one hand gently rubbing circles on his back. In this position Harry was forced to look at Narcissa Malfoy, who was sat directly next to the potions professor. He continued to whine and curled even closer to the man as the woman brought up a single, well-manicured hand to pet his hair. Soft words of comfort were flowing from her red painted lips and she had a gentle look on her face, but Harry continued to be riddled with anxiety.

After several minutes, Harry started to sag with exhaustion. The stress draining him of the little energy he had. Unfortunately, Snape seemed to take this as the sign that he would be comfortable with being transferred into the woman’s arms. Harry soon found himself laid against her chest, head over her sternum, with her arms gently holding him to her. He tensed and his eyes flashed to his father, who still had one hand stroking his cheek, hoping to convey to the man that he did not want him to leave, required staff meeting be damned.

If the man understood the look, he did not mention it. Instead, he took his blanket and draped it over him. The magic of the blanket immediately caused comforting warmth to seep into his skin. Against his better judgement, Harry’s body marginally relaxed, the steady thrum of Lady Malfoy’s heartbeat combined with being cocooned in her arms with his blanket were enough to calm his racing heartbeat and fast-paced staccato breathing. Only a few tears leaked from his eyes as the man made his exit.

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Severus was sat next to Lily, head in his hands. It was the day after the staff meeting and the boy had been exceptionally clingy since. The child spent most of his waking hours desperately clinging to his robes. At night the boy had been even more riddled with nightmares and more often than not Severus would carry the boy to the master bed after the boy woke up screaming. At least the child slept well if they were co sleeping.

“Have you thought about a mind healer?” Lily asked softly. “The child would probably benefit from seeing one.”

“The boy doesn’t speak,” Severus quickly replied. “He has not spoken since the troll incident and he is so fearful of new adults that I do not think therapy sessions would be helpful at this point.”

Lily nodded with a thoughtful look on her face. “You know,” she said carefully, “animals are supposed to be very therapeutic and they do not care if the child does not speak.”

Severus’ lips immediately curled into a sneer. He was not a man who took enjoyment in owning pets. “So what?” he shot back. “Should I get the child a puppy? No. Absolutely not. I do not have time to take care of a dog.”

Lily shook her head quickly. “You know that’s not what I am saying. You are definitely not a dog person. But maybe having a simple pet like a toad to care for would give the child a purpose.”

“A toad?” Severus sneered.

“Just think about it,” Lily said exasperated. “Plenty of muggle studies have shown how good animals are for the emotional wellbeing of children.”

“Maybe I should just hire Hagrid as a babysitter,” he said, voice muffled into his palms.

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Several weeks later found Severus bundling up the small boy into a winter cloak, readying the child for a trip through the floo. The boy had not had any improvement in the last few weeks and it was now December. He had been resistant to the idea of a toad but at this point he was willing to try just about anything to get his son to open up. He lifted the child to his hip and tucked his face into his neck, placing a charm on the child to prevent soot from getting into his eyes or nose, and stepped through the floo to Diagon Alley.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11
Harry’s eyes flew to the hanging owl cages as soon as they entered Eeylops Owl Emporium. He desperately scanned the cages and the various owl perches around the shop. Disappointment flooded him and his heart sank when he did not see a snowy owl waiting for him. Where’s Hedwig? He thought, devastation causing his earlier excitement to leave him completely.

An angry yell had him snapping his head around towards the back storage room.

Crash!

“Get out of here you mangy beast!” screamed a man, running out of the back room, brandishing a mop like a pitchfork.

Before Harry or Snape could react, a large ginger furball had scaled the first year’s cloak, perching on his shoulder while continuing to hiss angrily at the store keeper. “Out!” the man continued to yell. “Get out of my shop! To the streets with you, you worthless mongrel!”

Harry took an instinctive step back and his hands came up to pull the ginger beast off of his shoulder. For the first time he got a good look at the creature and for a moment the world around him disappeared. The somewhat ugly squished face that his Hermione had adored stared back at him.

Crookshanks.

His breath caught in his throat and Harry was suddenly cradling the cat against his chest, taking several more steps away from the angry store keeper. As the man continued to brandish his chosen weapon, Harry felt his magic begin to rise against this new perceived threat. Items in the shop began to shake and a wind blew through the still open door, making the owl cages clank together.

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Severus should never have brought the boy. He should never have acquiesced to the idea of a pet. This was a disaster. He had seen disappointment in the child’s eyes when they had entered and had been prepared to quickly take him out of the shop to distract him with something else. Then all of a sudden some mangy creature had burst out of nowhere and had invaded his son’s personal space, using him as a human shield against a deranged lunatic with a dirty mop. His son’s magic was now responding to the stress of the situation and Severus was worried his son would destroy the shop entirely. Severus had drawn his wand and was prepared to stun the animal when a single word from his son froze him in shock.

“Mine.”

Another angry shout from the store owner snapped Snape back into the reality of the situation and he was quick to step in front of his son, hiding him from the angry adult male across from him.

“You will calm yourself, sir,” he said in a stern voice, one he often used on the Weasley twins. “Or I will stun you.”

The man paused in his advance and his mouth opened and closed several times, slightly reminiscent of a trout. After a few seconds he seemed to find his voice, “I want that mongrel out of my shop! I should have put the blasted thing down years ago!”

Severus brandished his wand at the old man, “It appears to be your lucky day. We shall be removing him from your care.” Even as he said it, Severus was filled with dread at the idea of actually owning the cat. However, his son had clearly made his choice and so the feline would not be remaining behind. “And for the upset you have caused my son, you will be providing him with a standard supply kit, free of charge.”

The man seemed to want to argue, but his attention was drawn to the rattling items on the shop counter and the irritated owls whose cages were clanking together. He threw the mop angrily to the floor and huffed before returning to the storage room he had burst out of. He returned not seconds later with a box with a set of bowls, several containers of cat food, and a magical litterbox which vanished the animal’s waste. He shoved the box towards Severus and then pointed towards the door, “Well? I said out!”

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Severus did not like animals. They served a purpose in potion making and he had to admit that he had hoped that the boy had chosen a toad, as the thing would have been useful and easy to get rid of if the child did not take to it. He had never considered the idea that he would be sharing his quarters with an overgrown ginger furball that had no respect for his personal space or his furniture. The rule that the cat stay off of the sofa had immediately been broken. As had the rule about no cats at the dining table.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. At least the child seemed pleased with his new friend. The boy spent many hours petting the cat or attempting to get the cat to play with a random shoelace, which Severus saw as an amazing improvement over the apathetic boy he had taken in several months ago. The beast had even taken to following the child around their quarters and even through the halls. After several days the cat started to lead the way, as if he was guiding and protecting his human. Severus reluctantly admitted that it was fairly cute to witness.

The cat seemed to barely tolerate Severus. He had hissed once at Severus when he had attempted to move the blasted thing off of the coffee table. Since being brought home the damned thing had stared at him with weirdly judgmental eyes. His view of the feline was not helped that the thing positively adored Lily.

His friend Lily had come over two days ago to check up on them, as she and her son where traveling home for the winter holidays. The cat had been all over her. It even had the audacity to sit in her lap and purr.

No, Severus was decidedly not a cat person.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

In his first life, Harry had never had a normal Christmas. Yes, he had celebrated at Hogwarts, but he had never been involved in a traditional family Christmas. The students had left on the train yesterday, and Harry was relishing in a break from classes. He and Snape had immediately retreated to their quarters and Harry was content to avoid those remaining in the castle for the remainder of the holidays.

Snape, however, seemed to have other ideas. Christmas was a few days away and it seemed like Harry was getting roped into having lunch at Malfoy Manor. It seemed that his brief visit with Lady Malfoy a few weeks ago had spurred the invite, his newly deemed Aunt Cissa wanting to officially introduce him to her husband and son. And so, Harry found himself being stuffed into a stiff set of children’s dress robes.

Harry was willing to brave the event so long as Snape did not leave his side. He knew it was childish, but his gut twisted, his chest tightened, and his palms began to sweat on a normal day when he thought of being separated from the man. The idea of having to face the Malfoys without him was enough to make Harry hyperventilate.

Snape must have understood how Harry felt, because he was suddenly kneeling before the boy and running a hand up his back. “We will only stay for lunch,” the man said in a soft voice. “We will not doddle and you are not expected to participate in the conversation.”

Harry leaned his forehead against the man’s shoulder, accepting and welcoming the reassurance, even if he was still riddled with anxiety at the thought of leaving the school. After a few seconds, Harry felt arms wrap around him and he was suddenly tucked against the man’s chest, his face pressed into his neck. The man continued to speak softly to him as they approached the floo. The man whispered a spell to keep Harry soot free and then they were spinning towards their destination.

Harry kept his face tucked into the skin of the dark-haired man’s neck even after they stepped out of the fireplace in the reception hall at Malfoy Manor. The voice of Lady Malfoy was quick to greet them, and Harry felt a smaller hand touch his back, but still he kept his face against the solid form of his father. His hands gripped onto the man’s robes as they swiftly made their way through the manor.

The sight of the drawing room had Harry’s breath whooshing out of him. Against his will, his experience in this room during his first life started to cloud his mind. The chandelier taunting him were it hung, glistening in the soft afternoon light and completely whole. His grip on the potions professor tightened and Harry attempted to control his breathing. It was all for naught, however, as the words out of Narcissa’s mouth had him completely spiraling.

“Draco, come here.”

The words were simple but an exact replica of the words said when he, Hermione, and Ron had been brought to this vary room to be identified. The same room where Hermione had been tortured by Bellatrix. His fight against his panic was lost, and Harry felt like he was going to die if he wasn’t able to take in air soon. His chest was tight and he couldn’t draw in enough air. He couldn’t breathe.

The last thing he saw was the concerned black eyes of his father.

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“I should have known that he was not ready for such a step,” a voice was saying above him. “I should have just invited you and Draco over for tea in our quarters in order to introduce the boys.”

As awareness returned to him, Harry allowed himself to slowly take in his surroundings. He was warm and curled into someone’s lap. Likely Snape, his brain supplied. He quickly noticed that he was also being steadily rocked back and forth, the steady motion loosening something in his chest even further.

“You could not have known, Severus,” a female said from several feet away. “Try not to beat yourself up so.”

“I should ha-“ his father started to say, only to be cut off in the middle of berating himself.

“No. You could not have known. There was no way for you to predict that the child would have such a negative reaction to being in a new place,“ the voice of Lady Malfoy said sternly. “You are a wonderful father, and you would never have brought him here if you had any idea that this is what his reaction would be.”

The verbal scolding from Lady Malfoy had Harry flinching into his father’s chest, drawing attention to the fact that he was no longer unconscious. The rate at which he was being rocked increased and Harry felt a hand patting and rubbing his lower back. Whispered words of comfort were being said to him, but Harry struggled to pay attention to what was being said.

The stress of the afternoon had exhausted him and the soft rocking motion had Harry’s eyes drooping. Harry knew he was behaving childishly, but he allowed himself to be cradled by the man he had started to view as a father. He did not care that he was 17 years old, turned 11, and now acting like a toddler. He was going to accept whatever comfort this man was willing to provide until it was no longer offered. Because Harry knew that anything even remotely pleasant in his life, no matter how small, was temporary.

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

Severus had known immediately that something was wrong. His son had seemingly started gasping for breath out of nowhere. When he pulled the boy away slightly to look at him, he had panicked when he noticed that the child’s lips were turning blue.

The child’s anxiety was filling the air and yet the boy still did not take a full breath. In his panic, he laid the boy on the manor floor, tilted his head back to try and open his airway, and started rubbing the boy’s chest like you would a small kitten who refused to breathe after birth. Nothing. The child continued to gasp and panicked green eyes met his, pleading with him to make it stop.

“Come on, son,” he said in a frantic voice. “Breathe!”

Narcissa had just called a house elf for a calming draft when the boy fainted, his magic settling with his loss of consciousness. It wasn’t until after the boy fainted that he seemed to start breathing again and slowly the blue tint faded from his lips. Severus was quick to scoop the child up, cradling him like the most delicate of cargo.

“Severus,” Narcissa said softly, trying to gain his attention. “Let us move to the old nursery. It may be a much more comforting and calming space for the child once he awakens.”

Severus followed her silently, thoroughly shaken by the sight of his son’s panic attack and subsequent loss of consciousness. How did this happen? What had set the boy off?

Narcissa ushered them into a small, gently lit room and Severus was quick to sit in the old, ornate rocking chair by a window overlooking the grounds. The steady rocking may have had no effect on the unconscious child, but he himself found that it helped his racing heart. After he was settled with his cargo, Narcissa gently tucked a soft blanket around the child.

“Would you like for me to fetch a healer?” Narcissa asked quietly.

“No,” Severus responded in an equally quiet voice. “I will have Poppy see him when we return to the school but this is not his first time fainting.” In a near silent whisper, he told Narcissa of the last time something similar had happened in the boy’s first year transfiguration class.

“I should have known that he was not ready for such a step,” he said in an agonized voice. “I should have just invited you and Draco over for tea in our quarters in order to introduce the boys.”

“You could not have known, Severus,” Cissa said sternly. “Try not to beat yourself up so.”

“I should ha-“ he started to say again, only to be cut off.

“No. You could not have known. There was no way for you to predict that the child would have such a negative reaction to being in a new place. You are a wonderful father, and you would never have brought him here if you had any idea that this is what his reaction would be.”

His response was interrupted by the child in question flinching in his arms and Severus was quick to increase the pace he was rocking the child and started murmuring reassurances in his ear. “You are safe, sweet boy,” he said gently. “No one here wishes you harm.”

The small first year blinked exhausted green eyes up at him and Severus started rhythmically patting the child’s lower back, hoping to further convey that he was safe. The boy seemed to sag slightly in his arms. “That’s it Harrison,” he said softly. “Just relax and breathe, little one. Daddy is here.”

The title caught himself slightly off guard, but not for long. For that is what he had started to become since finding his son in a Bristol children’s hospital. If Narcissa heard the whispered promise, she did not illude to it. For several minutes Severus continued to rock the small child and the boy eventually fell into a light doze, his exhaustion clearly catching up with him.

Few words were exchanged between the two as Severus continued to rock the boy, his own anxiety settling now that the child was more comfortable. The comfortable silence was broken when a head of long blond hair poked through the door. “Is everything well?” one of his oldest friends asked gently. “Draco was quite upset when he came and found me in my office.”

“Yes, dear,” Narcissa responded. “The child had a bit of a panic attack after arriving to the manor and gave us all a bit of a fright.” A bit of a fright was an understatement where Severus was concerned, he thought he was going to have a heart attack. If he wasn’t completely grey before the boy turned 17 it would be a miracle.

“Shall I send for lunch to be brought in here for the two of you?” Lucius asked.

“Actually,” Severus said, “I feel that it would be best to take Harrison home soon. I feel that he will be most comfortable in his own bed.”

“He looks more than comfortable in your arms, Severus,” Narcissa said with a pleased smile, making Severus turn slightly pink.

“Nevertheless, I feel that we must ask for your forgiveness and postpone lunch for another day,” Severus said as he shifted the boy so he was less being cradled in the crook of his arm and was more laying against his shoulder. The boy’s green eyes cracked open and the boy turned his face into Severus’ robe.

Together the party made their way back to the reception room where the floo was located. Lighthearted conversation was exchanged but Severus could tell the two were disappointed by how poorly the visit had gone. The child just was not ready. Maybe towards the end of the holiday break he would invite them over to his quarters for tea, the child would likely be more comfortable in his own space. Granted, the boy’s mangy cat may have something to say about Lucius. Severus found himself feeling slightly amused at the idea of the beast being just as unimpressed with his old friend as the damned thing was with him.

Just as they were about to make it to the floo, a young voice stopped them, “Wait!” the young Malfoy heir cried. “Wait! I wanted to give Harrison something before you leave.” The boy skidded around the corner, panting slightly as he came to a stop, clearly having run from across the manor.

The boy stood, looking slightly nervous, with his hands behind his back. The boy shifted nervously from foot to foot for several seconds before taking several steps forward, bringing himself closer to Severus and his charge.
Understanding that the first year Slytherin wanted to give his son something, Severus crouched, bringing his son down to the other child’s level. His son’s eyes were still flickering open every once and a while, and the change in position was enough to draw him slightly more into the present.

Draco shifted nervously for a few more seconds before pulling the item out from behind his back. A soft green stuffed dragon was held out to his son, and Severus could not help but melt at what this obviously meant from the little Slytherin, for this was one of the boy’s most favorite stuffies from when he himself was small. Knowing that his son would not directly take the toy from the other child, Severus handed it to the boy himself, who was quick to latch onto the soft toy and bury his face into it.

“Thank you, Draco,” Severus said sincerely. “That was exceptionally kind of you.”

The young Slytherin seemed to puff up with pride from the praise of not only his godfather but also his head of house. Lucius stepped up behind the boy and placed a proud hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I apologize that we must cut our lunch short,” Severus said as he stood up, son and new toy in tow. “Why don’t the three of you floo to my quarters in a week and we can attempt a second introduction.” All three Malfoys were quick to give their agreement and soon Severus and his boy were spinning away back to Hogwarts.

Chapter Text

Chapter 14

Severus breathed a sigh of relief after they stepped through the floo to his quarters, the familiar surroundings were much more comforting than the poshness of Malfoy Manor. He carried his son through to his bedroom and laid him down on his blanket. He made quick work of changing the boy into a pair of soft pajamas and wrapping the boy up in the blanket.

Once the child was settled, Severus used the floo to summon the hospital matron. “Poppy,” he said, his head poking through the fireplace, scaring a young Gryffindor getting a cut healed. “Would you mind flooing to my quarters once you are available? I would appreciate you looking at Harrison.” The Matron gave her quick consent and Severus retracted himself from the fireplace, only to come face to face with his son’s blasted cat.

Severus jumped slightly in surprise and cursed, “Damned cat.” The thing continued to stare at him. “Do not look at me like that you mangy thing,” he sneered. “My own guilt is heavy enough upon my shoulders without you adding to it.” At this the cat flicked its tail and turned, jumping onto the bed beside the dozing boy.

Not seconds later the floo flared and Poppy was stepping through, “Well Severus,” she said, “what seems to be the issue?”

“We attempted to have lunch at Malfoy Manor. Unfortunately, the child suffered a panic attack and fainted soon after arrival.”

The Matron was quick to bustle over to the sleeping child, pulling her wand from her robes as she went. Upon reaching the child, she carefully unwrapped the boy from his blanket, muttering about how the charms imbued in the fabric would interfere with her diagnostic charms. The loss of his warm cocoon brought forth a small whine from the child who then stretched his arms up above his head, green dragon plushy still clasped tightly in one hand.

“Everything looks to be in order, Severus,” she said after a few minutes, wrapping the boy back up in his blanket. “However, were you aware that the boy has only gained two pounds since being brought here prior to the start of term?”

Disbelief flooded through him, “How is that possible? He looks much improved from when I first found him.”

“The spell does not lie, Severus. The lad needs to put on more weight. At his current height and weight, he is the equivalent of a small six-year-old. His growth has been stunted and if we do not improve his weight, I fear that his adult height will be significantly impacted. Is he eating by mouth yet, or are most of his nutrients still being spelled into him?”

“The child will eat a few mouthfuls of porridge, but I am lucky to get any more than that into him,” he said, stress clear in his voice.

“Try seeing if he will take a fruit smoothie or something similar before bed,” she suggested. “If he is distracted, say by a bedtime story, he may be more willing to eat something for you. I will consult my friend who is a healer specializing in pediatric nutrition to see if there is an improved nutritional potion that we can put him on. The child needs every ounce of fat he can get.” With those words she was gone, spinning back to the hospital wing.

Sighing, Severus turned back to his son once the woman had gone. The sight of the child cuddled into his favorite blanket, constellations glowing softly, with his new dragon plushy firmly clasped in one hand was exceptionally adorable. He carded his fingers through the child’s soft hair, his own anxiety over the conversation with Poppy lingered and combined with the overall stress of the afternoon. 'At least the child appeared to be firmly in the land of dreams,’ he thought. ‘Maybe I myself would benefit from a little afternoon nap after all of the excitement.’ And with that, Severus shooed the cat off of the bed, taking his place beside the small Hufflepuff. The child unconsciously curled into him, his free hand clutched onto his robes and pulled himself even closer before slipping deeper into his dreams.

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Snape was acting weird. It seemed that the fallout of lunch at Malfoy Manor included Snape turning into some weird, unexpected mother hen. The man was constantly offering him snacks. No matter how often Harry turned his face away from what was being offered to him, the man would offer something else a short while later.

Harry had always had issues with food. In his first life he just did not have enough of it. Punishments at the Dursley’s frequently included prolonged periods without food. The life of Harrison Snape prior to him waking up in this world was very similar, as the boy had mostly been sustained by stale bread. With how often he went hungry, he felt that his body no longer read hunger cues normally. Harry didn’t feel hungry. He knew he should be hungry, for he had not eaten much food in the last several months, but he didn’t. More than that though, his body was so used to not eating that more than a few bites turned his stomach. He was afraid that he would be ill if he was made to eat a normal sized portion. And so, Harry outright refused almost everything offered to him, but it was wearing on him.

He didn’t want to be difficult. Snape was trying to give him some semblance of a childhood and he had been entirely decent. He had quickly found himself becoming attached to the man, his anxiety when the man left the room he was in stark proof of that. Harry had never had an adult in his life that he would consider a parent and now that he had one, he was determined to do his best to be a child that Snape would want. However, this was difficult and Harry knew he was an anxious disaster of a person with more skeletons in his closet than any one person should have. He knew that he stressed his new father out tremendously with his lack of eating or speaking, but it was almost like he was unable to make himself do so. More than anything, he wanted to prove himself worthy of the time and attention the man was showing him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 15

The day before Christmas Eve found Harry once again being bundled into a warm winter cloak and escorted through the floo system. When they reached their destination, Snape did not put him down but instead continued to carry him on his hip. Harry knew immediately where they were. St. Mungo’s was bustling with people. Everywhere he looked people were hurrying around, some carrying various gifts for loved ones currently admitted.

The potions professor carried him straight to the front desk, “We are here for an appointment for Harrison Snape,” he said in a clear voice.

Without looking up from the copy of Witch Weekly she was looking at, the lady manning the front desk pointed toward the lift and said, “Floor six, pediatric maladies.”

With a quiet thank you Snape was then carrying him towards the magical elevator. Harry started to feel anxiety build in his gut now that he knew they were here for him. Why were they here? Why couldn’t he have just seen Madam Pomfrey?

They quickly reached the sixth floor and they were soon ushered into an exam room. His anxiety continued to grow as Snape carefully sat him down on the exam table and he grabbed onto the man’s cloak with both hands, ensuring that he could not step away from him.

“It is okay, sweet boy,” Snape said softly. “It is just a check-up.”

‘Check-up my ass,’ Harry thought. ‘If this was a check-up I would be seeing Madam Pomfrey.’

Any further thoughts were interrupted by the door opening and a woman with curly dark brown hair entered the room, freezing Harry completely. He had met this woman once before, but her clear resemblance to her sister Bellatrix was enough to make ice cold panic start clawing up his throat.

Snape must have noticed his fear, because he suddenly found himself being pulled up and into the man’s broad chest, a large hand smoothing over his trembling back. The man was murmuring comforting word’s in his ear and Harry fought to control his racing heart and spiraling thoughts.

Several minutes later he was calm enough to hear and process what the dark-haired man was saying. “You are safe,” the man murmured. “Daddy will be with you the whole time. Healer Tonks means you no harm.” Snape’s words were enough to completely distract Harry from his fear. Never in a million years had he ever thought Snape would refer to himself as Daddy. How had this standoffish professor become so paternal?

The two adults must have taken his momentary distraction as acceptance for the situation as Harry then found himself face to face with Andromeda Tonks, still safely enclosed in Snape’s arms.

“You must be Harrison,” she said in a cheerful voice, reflecting none of the tension that Harry himself felt. “Your dad has asked me to take a look at you to ensure that you will grow big and strong. Do you think I can examine you?” She waiting for his response and after a quick glance up at his father’s face, Harry nodded. “Perfect! Severus can you set him on the ground? Before we proceed with the physical I would like to see him walk.”

Harry was then placed down on the ground in front of Snape and the woman encouraged him to walk to her. Harry had no intention of stepping away from the potions professor, however, and after failing to get him to walk, Snape lead him around the room by his hand while the woman watched with a critical eye.

“Wonderful, thank you. Okay, now can you place him up on the table and remove his clothes?” she said as she started flipping through copies of his medical scans sent over from Madam Pomfrey.

Harry whined as he was once again placed on the cold table but this time he found himself being divested of his warm clothes. Against his will he started shivering, from cold or fear he was not sure. The man continued murmuring reassurances to him and soon Harry found himself being laid down on the exam table. Andromeda looked over his scarred skin with a critical eye, taking in his still slightly sunken belly and knobbly knees. Snape stood by his head, gently carding his hand through his hair.

Harry kept his eyes firmly on the woman as she started bending his legs, testing the flexibility of his hips, knees, and ankles before doing the same with his arms. She also performed various reflex tests, nodding her head in approval when his legs kicked out without his consent after being tapped on the knee with a small hammer. Once done with this she started pressing her hand into various areas of his abdomen, making Harry shift uncomfortably. She watched his reaction to every prod closely before having Snape sit him up on the table so she could prod along his back, surveying the scars that lingered there, as well. Then she gently lit the tip of her wand and flashed the light into his eyes. Lastly she looked in both Harry’s ears and his mouth, what she was looking for he did not know.

After looking him over physically, she had Snape lay him back down and she then waved her wand over him while murmuring in Latin quietly. A parchment appeared in the air next to her and she was quick to grab it, looking it over silently.

“You can go ahead and get him dressed, Severus,” she said, not looking up from the parchment, a slight frown on her face.

Harry kept her in his field of view while Snape silently helped him put his clothes back on. He was caught by surprise when he was lifted from the table and sat down on Snape’s lap but he definitely wasn’t complaining, glad to be off of the sterile table.

“So, I have heard that Harrison does not speak,” Healer Tonks said. “Is his aversion to speaking all the time or is he comfortable speaking to you when in privet, Severus?”

“I have heard him say all of two words in the last several months,” his father said grimly.

“Hmm. Okay and how does he do in classes?” she asked. “I am assuming he is attending classes with the other first years.”

“He is attending classes, yes,” the man responded. “However, he does not participate and has yet to complete an assignment or use his wand.”

“How about socially? Does he interact with other children?”

“No, I suspect that he is almost entirely indifferent to the presence of his peers,” the man responded, tension clear in his voice.

“The child is quite small for his age. Can you tell me what his diet has been like and what potions he has been on?”

Harry buried his face into the skin of the man’s neck while the two continued the conversation, basically going over every detail of his day-to-day life. His face turned bright red and mortification flooded him when the woman asked how often he pooped. Snape gently patted his back, likely sensing his embarrassment. Still the questions continued and Harry felt himself starting to doze off, Snape gently patting his back and the warmth of his winter cloak enough to lull him into a light sleep.

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“Well, Severus,” said Andromeda. “You have a long road ahead of the two of you. While I am very pleased with the progress you have made with the child in the last several months, I feel that we need more help.”

Severus nodded, though he felt disappointment with the knowledge that he was not enough for his son. “What do you suggest?” he asked in a stressed tone of voice.

“I would like to bring in a therapist who specializes in abused children,” she responded softly. “I am very pleased and pleasantly surprised with how attached the boy has become to you considering his background, but I think we need another person to help bring the boy out of his shell and to help provide you with tools to do so.” Severus simply nodded his understanding and consent. “This therapist will also have experience with children with a condition called selective mutism. Have you heard of this condition?” she asked.

“No, I have not,” Severus responded quietly, the soft even breaths against his neck from his son grounding him in this moment.

“It is essentially a complex anxiety disorder that renders the person, typically a child, unable to speak. If not resolved, this can continue into adulthood.”

Severus felt panicked at the thought of his son never being able to live a normal life because he was unable to speak to others. “Who is the therapist you are thinking of?” he asked, his own anxiety clear in his voice.

“My husband,” she responded simply. “Ted is a muggleborn. He is a therapist that primarily works with abused muggle children as child abuse is much more common within the muggle world. Wizards tend to cherish their children since our birth rate is so low. He has worked with children with a wide array of anxiety disorders and I think he may be just what we need.”

“In addition to this, we need to speak about the child’s magic,” she went on to say, freezing Severus’ racing thoughts in their tracks.

“What about his magic?” he asked quickly.

“Have you noticed very much accidental magic from the boy? What does his accidental magic usually entail and what are the circumstances that proceed the outburst?”

In a clipped voice, Severus went on to tell her of the mountain troll the boy had killed and of the occasional rattling of items on shelves when the boy felt upset or threatened. He also conveyed his heavy suspicion that the child had been the source of the fire that burned the orphanage.

The woman nodded periodically, obviously deep in thought. “Did they ever arrest or find an adult from the orphanage? We know the child was heavily abused, but we have almost no other information. If we know exactly what happened to the child, we can better devise a treatment plan to help him recover not only physically but emotionally, as well.”

“My understanding is that the Matron of the orphanage died in the fire. No children were killed and I saw no other death reports, but I am unsure if there were any other adults involved in running the facility,” Severus responded, desperation clear in his voice.

“It may need to be something we look into further,” she said. “The child’s magic is quite unstable and I am fearful that he may have been punished at some point for accidental magic.”

The breath whooshed out of Severus, his thoughts stuttering to a halt. Denial was quick to come to him, “But how can that be? How is his magic unstable? Poppy’s scans showed that his core looked okay.”

“Madam Pomfrey, while very talented, is not able to do more than a cursory scan to get an understanding of core strength. The child has a very strong core, but his magic is entirely unsettled. It is constantly looking for the next threat and as you saw with the troll, very capable of neutralizing one.”

”Is the damage to his magic reversible?” Severus asked desperately.

“I am unsure,” she responded. “We will need to consult an expert.”

“Who?” he demanded.

“Newt Scamander.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 16

Harry awoke to the quiet goodbyes exchanged between his father and Healer Tonks. He yawned into the man’s shoulder, ignoring the woman when she bid him goodbye and then ignoring the other hospital visitors as Snape carried him towards the floo. He was jolted to awareness when instead of returning straight to Hogwarts, Snape instead flooed to Hogsmeade.

After arriving at a small pub, Snape nodded to the barkeep before carrying him out into the snow. The man held him for several more minutes, patting his back and ensuring he was good and awake before placing him on his feet and taking his hand. Harry allowed himself to be lead through the village, enjoying the site of the snow-covered shops. Eventually they came to a halt in front of a small Christmas tree stand.

“Would you like to pick a Christmas tree, Harrison?” Snape asked softly.

Harry’s eyes whipped back around to stare at the small collection of trees. He had never picked out a Christmas tree before. At the Dursley’s, he had often stared in awe at the decorated tree but he was not allowed near it. He found himself nodding his head before he left Snape’s side to walk between the rows of trees. Harry wasn’t sure how one selected a Christmas tree. Did you go based off of height and width? Did the number of branches matter?

Eventually he came to a stop in front of a small tree, no taller than he was. It was much smaller than the other trees for sale and was not nearly as bushy. He turned to find Snape watching him from several feet away and pointed at the tree, decision clearly made. For the first time that he could ever remember, he felt genuine excitement for the holiday itself.

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The following evening found Harry curled up with his father as the man read a Christmas children’s book to him. The man had one hand on the book, and the other was helping support the small mug of hot chocolate Harry had been given. Harry took an occasional sip, eyes locked on the book in front of him. Never in a million years would he have thought the man would read him a bedtime story. It was the first bedtime story that had ever been for just Harry and he was going to soak it up as much as possible.

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Harry was awoken on Christmas morning by a gentle hand carding through his hair. He had fallen asleep at some point during the story and Snape had not moved him to his own bed. He cuddled into the man, basking in the full nights sleep and in anticipation of the lazy day to come. He was determined to stay in his night clothes all day and was going to downright refuse to leave their rooms.

“It is time to wake up, sweet boy,” Snape said softly. “It is time for breakfast and I believe that Father Christmas has made a delivery.”

Harry perked up. The possibility of presents was all the encouragement he needed. The man laughed before getting out of bed himself and lifting Harry to his hip. Harry curled towards the man, enjoying the coddling as anticipation started to fill him.

Snape carried him into the living room and Harry’s eyes flew to the Christmas tree they had decorated together just two evenings before. Magical snowflakes fell around the tree and small crystal magical creatures danced across the branches. It was so much better than any tree Aunt Petunia had ever had and Harry didn’t want the holiday to end and for the tree to disappear. Even Crookshanks was enamored with the tree, often sitting beside it or laying underneath it and batting at the enchanted magical creatures.

His eyes were quickly drawn to the brand-new rocking chair sat beside the tree and he wiggled until the man set him on his feet. Harry was quick to climb up onto the rocking chair, using his torso to rock it back and forth, as his feet came nowhere close to touching the ground. He looked up to find Snape looking at him with a small smile on his face, obviously pleased that Harry seemed happy with the gift.

Without having to take out his wand, Snape levitated the small stack of presents that were under the tree and sat them on the coffee table before patting to sofa beside him. Not having to be told twice, Harry climbed down from the rocking chair and made his way over the dark-haired man, more than happy to lean against him as the man handed him his first present.

Harry took exceptional care in removing the wrapping paper, wanting to take his time and savoring the moment of opening a present from a parent. Inside he found a collection of magical children’s books. Taking this to mean that there would be more bedtime stories to come, Harry turned and grinned up at the man. Snape had a soft look on his face and his arm reached out to wrap around his shoulders. Several more presents followed and Harry was just as careful removing the wrapping paper as he had been with the first. He found a few more books, a couple sets of clothes, and his favorite, a replica of the Hogwarts Express, which Harry was quick to open and start pulling out pieces, determined to set it up to drive around the Christmas tree. Snape continued to watch him, slowly sipping on a black coffee.

They spent the rest of the morning enjoying each other’s company. When the man went to help Harry change into a pair of slacks and collared shirt, Harry stuck with his plan and made his displeasure known, “No!” he said, pointing at the dress clothes in Snape’s hands. The man cocked his head slightly to the side and surveyed him quietly, “Is today to be a pajama day, hmm?” the man asked, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Harry was quick to nod, happy that the man had understood what he was trying to say. “Very well, lazy bones. We shall spend the day in our rooms. No need to shock the remaining students and other professors by seeing the strict Professor Snape in his bed clothes.” And so, the two spent the rest of the day lounging around. After a bath, Harry was more than happy to sit with the man in the rocking chair as he read him one of his new stories, relaxing into the man and basking in the comfort and care being offered. Never could he have imagined, even in his most-wildest of dreams, a more perfect Christmas day.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17

If Severus was not an occlumens he would be pacing around their quarters while waiting for the Malfoys to arrive. The boy was sitting on the living room floor, playing with his train while his cat laid obnoxiously on the railroad tracks. He had dressed the boy in a very smart looking set of dress robes, but the boy had been quick to remove his outer robe, preferring to wear just his slacks and collared shirt.

His earlier worry about what Healer Tonks had said during the child’s appointment returned to him as he waited for his old friend and his family to arrive. Since the appointment, the woman had made adjustments to the boy’s potions and had added a topical potion that he applied to the boy’s skin every night after his bath in an attempt to reduce his scarring.

He was nervous of the meetings with Ted Tonks and Newt Scamander that were scheduled for the next several days. He feared what Newt would say the most. The terror that had gripped his heart at hearing Andromeda’s concern about his son’s magic was almost all consuming.

The fire flaring green and Cissa stepping out paused his spiraling thoughts and apparently shocked the small Hufflepuff. The child recoiled from his train and jumped to his feet before running to stand behind Severus. The small boy gripped onto Severus’ robes with both hands, hiding behind him as Draco and then Lucius stepped out of the floo.

“Good afternoon, Severus,” Lucius was quick to say in a calm voice. “Thank you for inviting us for lunch.”

Conversation easily flowed between Severus and his guests, all four of them ignoring the small boy so that he could grow comfortable with the people intruding into his space. Eventually they moved to sit on the sofa, and Severus reached behind him to draw the boy into his arms so that the child could sit in his lap. The boy huddled into him, uncomfortable with so many eyes on him.

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Harry was slightly embarrassed with how childish he was acting in front of the Malfoys. The memory of his meltdown in front of Lady Malfoy several days prior had him wanting to melt into the floor. His immediate response to seeing the bright green of the floo was to run, which is exactly what he did. He ran to the man who seemed to be his personal protector in this life and held onto the man, desperate not to be removed from his side. Snape placing him on his lap was an added bonus. He fiddled with the man’s robes and allowed the conversation to flow over his head.

Against his better judgement he started to relax into the man’s chest, his attention turning to take in their guests. Draco was dressed in a smart looking set of dark blue dress robes; the child was watching him with quiet interest. His mother sat beside him and was wearing a gorgeous silver gown, much too fancy for the small luncheon he knew Snape had planned and Lucius sat, straight backed, wearing a regal set of black dress robes with silver clasps that matched his wife’s gown. All three’s eyes intermittently flickered down to stare at Harry. Feeling shy, Harry turned his face into his father’s robes. His father chuckled beneath him and a large hand started smoothing up and down his back.

It was soon after that lunch was delivered to the table, appearing out of thin air, and the small party of five moved to the table. Harry reluctantly let go of the potions professor when he was placed down in his own chair, turning to stare unhappily at the man as he took his own seat. A steaming bowl of soup was sat in front of him while various dishes sat in front of Draco and the adults present. Harry shifted uncomfortably, wanting to be away from the pressure of the table. He managed a few sips of the broth before gently pushing the bowl away. He folded his hands in his lap and looked down at them, completely tuning out those around him.

He was therefore caught by surprise when he was lifted from his chair by someone other than Snape. “Let’s have a look at you, Little Prince,” said the smooth voice of Lucius Malfoy. “Hmm?” Harry sat frozen after being perched on the man’s knees, too afraid to forcefully move away. Behind the man’s shoulders stood Narcissa, who stared at him with a quiet look of contemplation.

“Severus, have you performed a maternity test on the child?” she asked, an odd lit to her voice. Harry stared up at her with anxious eyes, not fighting the man as he brought him closer to his chest, awkwardly cradling his stiff form.

“No,” his father responded. “I have been hesitant to do so.”

“Why?” Draco said, unconcerned as he jumped up onto the sofa beside his father.

Snape apparently did not have a response and all three continued to stare down at Harry, making him shift uncomfortably.

“He has a lot of the Prince features, Severus,” Lucius went on to say. “But his eyes do not come from your side of the family.”

“You are correct. No one on my mother or father’s side had eyes so green,” responded Snape, a small amount of tension clearly reflected in his voice. Narcissa continued to silently search his face and anxiety started to grow in Harry’s gut. He did not have memories of a mother in this life, and with how everyone was looking at him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know who his mother was.

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It was that night, after the Malfoys had left and the child was tucked into bed that Severus brewed. A drop of blood he collected from his son before laying him down sat in a small vile beside him. He had a few ideas on who the boy’s mother could be, but it was time to know for sure. Unfortunately, he could not have been more wrong in his guesses. The name that stared back at him freezing the blood in his veins and causing his heart to stutter.

Bellatrix Lestrange was written in a rolling script on the parchment. As if his imagination was out to get him, Bella’s manic laugh echoed in his mind, taunting him for the rest of the night. It would have been better to never have known.

Chapter Text

Chapter 18

Severus sat staring at the parchment for several long moments, his mind suspended in shocked disbelief. With shaking hands, he snatched the parchment up from his potions desk and stumbled towards the floo, casting a quick monitoring charm to notify him if his son awoke or became distressed before he tumbled through to Malfoy Manor.

He stumbled out of the fire in Lucius’ study, shocking the man who was sat at his desk, numerous legal documents spread out in front of him. “Severus!” the man exclaimed. “What has happened? Is Harrison okay?” the man asked, jumping to his feet and striding towards his old friend.

Severus wordlessly thrust the parchment at him, slightly crinkled from how harshly he had been gripping it in his fist. The man was quick to scan it, his face turning white as the words written on it started to sink in.

“Dobby!” the man said in a strained voice, causing a small elf in a pillowcase to appear in front of him. “Tell Narcissa that she is needed in my office.” The elf bowed low before promptly disappearing with a pop.

The silence between the two friends was heavy as they waited for the Lady of the Manor to answer her summons. Neither of them knew what to say and Lucius busied himself by pouring himself and his friend glasses of his finest whiskey. Severus grunted his thanks before collapsing into a plush armchair.

The silence was eventually broken by the soft foot falls of Lady Malfoy and the soft creek of the office door being pushed open. “Yes husband mine?” she asked softly. Wordlessly, he passed over the crumpled parchment. She stared down at it blankly for several moments, tension rising in the room.

“How?” she asked in a strangled voice. “How could this be? The boy would have been a year old when Bella and her husband were arrested after the Dark Lord’s fall. By law they would have had to find a next of kin.”

“I am unsure. We have no clue how he ended up in that muggle orphanage,” Severus responded.

“Well Bella would never dump a magical child off with muggles,” Cissa said. “Even if that child was not a pureblood.”

“So that begs the question,” Lucius drawled. “How does a magical child end up in the hands of muggles after his mother and step father are arrested?” The implications of the statement hung heavy in the air, Severus’ mind flying a mile a minute attempting to connect the dots with so much missing information. He would have never have guessed Bella to be Harrison’s mother.

“Severus,” Cissa said softly. “Bella obviously hid that she was pregnant but I do know that she and Rodolphus struggled with infertility. Did you knowingly have relations with my sister?”

Severus nearly choked on his whiskey, but he knew the question was eventually going to be asked. “Once,” he responded honestly. “But it was in a moment of weakness after a particularly disgusting raid and a night of exceptionally heavy drinking on my end. Believe me when I say that I would have never slept with her otherwise.” The shame and disgust in his voice was apparent.

“Well, whatever the circumstances, Bella had a child and that child was seemingly dumped at a muggle orphanage. I do not believe that Bella or Rodolphus would stoop so low to leave a magical child with muggles. The boy would have been but a young toddler when they were arrested, we need to find out how a magical child of two Death Eaters ended up in the hands of muggles when there are laws in place to protect magical children when their parents die or are arrested.” Lucius was now pacing back and forth in front of his desk, his voice reflecting the tension clear in every line of his body.

“Do you think a Ministry official went against protocol and abandoned the child?” Severus asked, his chest tight.

“I can think of no other explanation. Their house elves were killed by Aurors for defended Bella and her husband. There are no other witnesses,” Lucius responded, coming to a stop before Severus’ chair. “I will launch my own investigation at the Ministry. I will find out who was in charge of the arrests and who was present when their manor was raided.”

Just as Severus was going to respond, the monitoring charm he placed on his son went off, notifying him of the child’s distress. Without a word he leaped from his seat and seconds he was spinning through the floo back to his quarters.

He was met with screaming. His son was tangled and thrashing in the blankets on his bed. The boy’s magic was heavy and angry in the air, numerous items shaking on the shelves and small cracks appeared in the wooden bed frame. Several large strides brought him to the boy’s side and he was quick to start detangling the boy, shushing him. He didn’t pause when Lucius followed him through the floo, wand out and expected danger due to how he had fled Malfoy Manor. The man’s eyes widened hearing the boy scream and seeing his magic cause havoc across their quarters.

Severus was quick to scoop the boy into his arms, bringing the boy to his chest and sitting back in the rocking chair, patting the boy on his back and murmuring to him in an attempt to get him to wake up from his nightmare. “Shh, sweetheart,” he said softly. “You are okay. It was just a dream.” The boy had stopped screaming, startled from his dreams at being picked up from the bed. The small child hid his face in Severus’ neck, silent tears running down his face. Without being asked, Lucius strode towards the bed, he silently picked up the boy’s blanket, laying it across his shoulders. Severus continued to rock the child, murmuring reassurances and patting his back. Severus wandlessly summoned the boy’s stuffed dragon and tucked it into the boy’s arms. Over the boy’s head, the two men made eye contact. Lucius nodded once before stepping back into the floo to return to his home. No words were exchanged but no words were needed, quiet understanding shared between the two friends.

Severus continued to rock his son well after the child had calmed down and drifted back to sleep, content to keep the boy in his arms. No matter what, this boy was his son and he was determined to provide him with the care and attention he needed, regardless of who his mother was.

Chapter Text

Chapter 19
Harry was curled up on the sofa with his illustrated guide to magical creatures when the floo flared and a tall, skinny old man stepped through. His father was quick to meet the man at the hearth and began speaking to the man in a soft voice. Harry paid them little attention, content with flipping through the book in his lap. It wasn’t until the newcomer knelt down in front of him that he paused.

“That looks like a very interesting read,” the man said in a soft voice. Harry held very still as the man extended a downward turned hand over the open pages, gripping the book tightly in case this stranger tried to take it from him. Instead, the man turned his closed fist so that his closed fingers faced upwards. Slowly he opened his hand, revealing a small green leafy creature carefully cupped in his palm. The same creature depicted on the page below.

Harry released the book in surprise, his hand coming up to offer to the small stick like creature. The thing seemed to stare at him for several moments before climbing up onto his much smaller hand. Harry watched bemused as the little thing continued up his arm, eventually climbing up his face and burying into his dark wavy air. The old man laughed lightly, bringing Harry’s attention back to him. “You’ll have to excuse Pickett,” he said, a kind smile on his face. “He has always enjoyed hiding in hair.”

Harry’s eyes looked upwards, trying to catch a glimpse of the creature he could feel making a nest out of his hair, without turning or tilting his head and disturbing it. “Do you know what sort of creature Pickett is?” the man asked.

Harry stared at the man for a second before tapping a finger against the open page of the book in his lap. The small illustration of a bowtruckle attempted to grasp his finger through the page, very much acting like the one currently atop his head.

“Correct!” the man said happily, seemingly not phased by his unwillingness to speak. “Now Pickett is a bit clingier compared to others of his kind. In fact, it appears that he considers me to be his home tree.” The man had a soothing voice and Harry found himself relaxing in the man’s presence. Harry happily resumed flipped through his book of magical creatures, periodically stopping to point at specific illustrations and waiting expectantly for the man to tell him about them.

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It was several hours later and after the child had been tucked into bed, that Severus poured himself and his guest a drink. “I appreciate you coming to see my son,” he said, taking a seat across from the old magizoologist.

“Think nothing of it,” the man responded in an even voice. “I know I have a unique set of knowledge.” The man took a sip of his whiskey. “Now, before I tell you of my assessment of the child, why don’t you tell me of his background and your concerns.”

Severus was quick to launch into a retelling of finding his son in a muggle hospital. He spoke of the fire that destroyed a muggle orphanage. He spoke of the child’s complete dissociation from the world around him. He told the man about the child’s singlehanded defeat of a fully grown mountain troll, of his often unpredictable accidental magic, and of Andromeda’s concerns.

The man across from him was silent for several moments, clearly deep in thought. “Yes,” he said in a soft voice. “Your healer’s concerns are not unwarranted.” Severus breath caught in his throat. “However,” the man went on to say. “The child is not too far gone.” The breath he had been holding whooshed out of Severus. “The boy has clearly been abused by his muggle guardians, likely for both magic and speaking. I fear what would have become of him if his magic had not destroyed the orphanage when it did.”

Severus nodded, his chest tight with grief. He could only continue to listen as the man continued on with his assessment.

“Your healer is correct in her assessment that the child’s magic is very unstable. It is working overtime attempting to protect him from any and all threats, no matter how small or benign they may be. His magic is so unsettled that I doubt he would be able to efficiently use a wand if he tried. I fear that a traumatic experience at this point in time may push him over the edge.” Cold fear grew within Severus’ heart, clawing up his throat and making it difficult to voice the obvious question on his mind. “Yes,” the man said, his green eyes looking into Severus’ black irises. “I fear that if he were to feel truly threatened, especially by magical means, that we may have a much larger issue to deal with.”

“What?” Severus was able to gasp out between clenched teeth.

“Something that has only been seen a handful of times in living memory. Something that we have yet been successfully able to treat.” White noise was buzzing in Severus’ ears. “An obscurus.”

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In a manor in Wiltshire, a blonde woman put quill to parchment. A letter to her older sister, who had been cast out of the family for her choice of husband, was long overdue. Now, it was made necessary by the discovery of a nephew, one who would need the remaining Black sisters united.

Chapter Text

Chapter 20

Something was wrong. Harry felt off. A deep ache had settled in his bones the night before and he wanted nothing more than to curl up on the couch and stay there. So that is what he did. He lay huddled on his side with his blanket pulled up to his ears and his stuffed dragon wrapped up in his arms. He ignored all attempts to drag him from his cocoon. He ignored breakfast and lunch. When Ted Tonks stepped through the floo, the visit having been planned days before, Harry remained how he was, ignoring the two men who attempted to engage with him. He let their conversations about him drift over his head, not absorbing the conversation like he knew he should be. Eventually the muggleborn therapist left and Harry was happy for the silence that followed.

He blinked up tiredly at his father as he carded his fingers through his hair. Snape had a worried look on his face, clearly concerned about his abrupt change in behavior. The man waved his wand and his vital signs appeared in the air beside him, all of which were normal. The man’s frown deepened and he laid his hand against Harry’s forehead, looking for a fever that was not present. Yet.

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The boy was coming down sick, Severus was sure of it. The child had not moved throughout the day, barely willing to get up to use the restroom. It was not surprising that the boy would fall ill, for he had never been exposed to the common magical illness that he should have been if he had been raised in his custody.

The small child had laid there limp while he and their guest spoke. They quickly went over the child’s background, current issues, and goals before eventually cutting the meeting short. Severus had relayed his conversation with Newt to the man, and Ted provided him with several activities that he could do with the child to continue bonding with him. He also recommended taking the boy outside more, especially when it started to warm up, as the child was in love with the outdoors. Ted had also provided him with several deep breathing exercises that he could employ when the child started to feel upset or overwhelmed. Overall, in Severus’ opinion Ted appeared optimistic. The man appeared hopeful that they could get the boy effectively communicating verbally within the next year. Part of Severus deflated at the idea of the child still not speaking by his 12th birthday but he knew he needed to have realistic expectations for the child. The fact that the boy didn’t continue to be catatonic was something Ted had told him he should be proud of. Add to the fact that the boy clearly had grown to trust him when he had likely never trusted an adult or parental figure in his life. Ted had congratulated him on the progress made thus far and cautioned him against getting discouraged.

A wet sounding cough interrupted his thoughts and he turned. The child continued to lay huddled on the couch. His brow was furled and his nose had begun to run. His cheeks also now appeared flushed. Severus once again laid a hand on the boy’s brow, which smoothed out at the contact. The boy felt hot. Another wet cough sounded and Severus felt the stirring of anxiety in his gut.

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In his first life, Harry rarely got sick. He caught mild colds several times, and Petunia always locked him in his cupboard to wait out his symptoms, but he had never felt downright ill. He had been starved and weak but this was different. Everything hurt. His back ached and his chest hurt with every breath. The air seemed to rattle in his chest and he found no relief of his cough despite the wide variety of potions his father and Pomfrey spelled into him. His fever burned despite regular fever reducers and Harry continued to feel miserable. His head was pounding and his stomach was in knots. Snape was attempting to get him to drink water or even juice at any opportunity but his stomach was too upset to tolerate any of it. Potions being spelled directly into his stomach added to his queasiness and Harry found himself vomiting them up despite potions meant to settle his stomach.

Harry could tell Snape was growing more and more worried. As the days passed his symptoms continued to worsen, likely made worse by his lack of proper hydration and nutrition. The man had barely left his side and he could see it wearing on the man. It wasn’t until Harry’s breathing worsened, however, that he saw true fear in the man’s eyes.

Harry had been bundled up in the man’s bed, his faithful dragon sidekick bundled into the blankets with him, when he began to feel like he couldn’t catch his breath. It felt difficult to expand his lungs and Harry gasped for breath, drawing Snape’s attention from where he was shaving in the master bathroom. The man, shaving cream still covering half of his face, popped his head out of the bathroom to stare at him. When Harry failed to draw a normal breath, the man was quickly at his side with his wand was in his hand. Harry’s vitals floated in the air once more and fear shone clearly on the man’s face. Faster than he could blink, Harry was being scooped up into the man’s arms and carried through the floo to St. Mungo’s.

He moaned as the hustle and bustle of the reception and waiting area exacerbated his pounding headache. His stomach churned at the floo ride and motion caused by Snape walking. He focused entirely on not throwing up on the man and was therefore caught by surprise when he was being laid down on a cold exam table. Harry whined, tears prickling his eyes against his will as several people began examining him all at once. Several witches and wizards surrounded him, getting him set up on magical monitors and divesting him of his clothes. Harry shivered harshly, eyes frantically searching for the dark-haired man as his chest became even more tight, partly due to anxiety, and he struggled even further to draw breath. As his eyesight began to grow dark, he caught sight of the man. He was stood just outside the door, shaving cream untouched on one side of his face and Harry’s dragon desperately clutched against his chest. Harry saw his own fear clearly reflected in the man’s eyes before the world grew dark.

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Severus sat beside the boy’s bed with his head in his hands. Wizard flu, Andromeda had said, and a nasty case of it. The virus had gone straight to the boy’s lungs and caused a pneumonia. The fact that he and Poppy had not noticed the pneumonia earlier caused guilt to churn within his gut. Though, Andy said that sometimes children seem to present with severe symptoms out of the blue and it likely wasn’t something they would have noticed when he first began to feel unwell.

Severus looked up as he heard rustling from the bed. The child was still asleep, kept sedated to help keep him calm. The child became very upset and anxious when not medicated and this caused his fragile respiratory status to worsen. A spell had been placed on the boy to mimic muggle nasal cannulas. He had supplemental oxygen being blown directly into his nostrils. The spell was light blue and Severus could see it when it was activated. He was very grateful for the care that the child had been receiving, but he was so ready for things to return to normal. He longed for their regular routine. To read to the boy in the evenings with the child held securely on his lap, one hand balancing a book and the child and the other supporting a cup of hot cocoa for the boy to sip. The boy had been hospitalized for going on three days now and his healers were hopeful that within the next two they could start to wean him off of oxygen and allow him to start waking up. Severus just couldn’t wait to see those green eyes, looking at him unclouded by fear and fever.

The fever caused the boy to be confused and Severus had been surprised the first time the boy had begged for an unknown person to “please stop”. His heart broke every time the child spoke, pleas to be left alone the most frequent thing to leave his lips. If Severus could step into the child’s place he would in a heartbeat. He hoped and waited every day for the child to speak, for him to only do so while distressed and drugged devastated Severus. But it was the quiet pleas for “dad” that broke his heart the most. How he longed to hear those words from the boy when he wasn’t incoherent from an illness or under duress from a troll. The child would get better, both physically and mentally, Severus would make sure of it.

Chapter Text

Chapter 21
Classes resumed and his son was still in St. Mungo’s. Thankfully, Lily and the Headmaster were able to cover his classes so that he could remain with his son. For this, Severus was eternally grateful. They had stopped sedating the child two days prior and the child was very unimpressed with his current location, if the pout was anything to go by. The boy watched Severus like a hawk and Severus felt guilt even when leaving the room for a few minutes as the child’s breathing would hitch. When he became upset he was also prone to coughing fits that usually left him gasping. No, it was safe to say that Severus scarcely left the child’s side for the duration of his stay.

It was thought that the boy may be able to discharge home within the next few days as long as his strength continued to improve. Severus was hopeful that discharge came sooner rather than later. The constant flow of healers and staff in and out of the room caused unnecessary stress and anxiety within the child, who would tense and oftentimes flinch whenever someone opened the door. Currently, the child had his face pressed into the side of Severus’ ribs, fists holding onto his robes even as he lightly dozed. The child still spent most of his time sleeping. Severus had expanded the hospital bed so that he could stretch out beside his son, offering physical comfort to the child who often times still woke from nightmares despite the fever having resolved a couple days prior.

The door opened and Severus resigned himself to having a healer prod the annoyed child. Instead, a red head peeped through the door and Severus found himself smiling. His best friend closed the door quietly behind her and took a chair at the child’s bedside, making no comment about Severus being cuddled up with the child.

“I brought provisions,” she said in a cheerful but quiet tone of voice. “Even if the hospital is magical, I doubt the food is better than a muggle one.” As she spoke she pulled several items out of her bag, which was obviously expanded on the inside. Severus was grateful that one of the first items out of the bag was a cup of hot coffee. The coffee here was lacking and Severus missed his favorite brew. He accepted the mug from the red head with a quite word and was quick to take a drink, sighing in appreciation. She proceeded to pull several other items out of the bag, including a full dinner of roast chicken, potatoes, and veg for Severus, for which he was grateful.

The two were quick to carry a conversation and it was almost half an hour later that he felt the child digging his face further into his robes, grumbling in annoyance at waking up. Severus sat down his coffee and was quick to start rubbing a hand up and down the child’s back, helping him return to the land of the living. Severus continued to pat and rub the child’s back as he tucked into his meal, the familiar food offering its own form of comfort after an admittedly very stressful week.

Just as he was about to tuck into a healthy portion of treacle tart, not something he would typically choose for himself but Severus was not going to turn down good food right now, the child sat up. The boy’s hair was extra wild after his sleep, curls in complete disarray. The child blinked tired green eyes at him and Lily before he seemed to lock in on the dessert. He gave an appreciative hum before he started scooching closer to Severus’ plate, causing a startled laugh to erupt from the man.

“Was treacle tart the secret to your heart all along?” he asked, amused as he cut off a small bite and fed it to the boy. The child, who normally turned his nose up at every food item just nodded, opening his mouth for another bite, causing Severus to laugh once more. He was all too happy to give into the adorable request and he fed Harrison several more bites before the boy laid back down, clearly full from the meager portion.

Lily was watching the exchange with a small smile curling her lips. As to not draw any more attention to the boy eating, which was a tactic recommended by Ted, the two continued their conversation where they had left off. Ted had recommended that Severus not pressure or draw attention to the child eating, as this was likely the root cause of some of his issues with food. And so, the two friends spent the next hour chatting, the child nodding off beside him in the bed, unbothered by the presence of his oldest and dearest friend. If Lily noticed him quietly setting aside the rest of the dessert for the boy, she didn’t make mention of it.

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When the child was eventually discharged several days later, it was a massive relief to the potions professor. He was thankful to return to their chambers and sleep in his own bed. The boy too looked like he was happy to be home. He perked up after arriving in their chambers and was quick to curl up with his blanket and dragon in Severus’ bed, sighing softly in relief at the familiar surroundings. The two turned in early for the night after Severus himself had showered and then bathed the boy, both exhausted from the hospital stay itself. The child was still slightly under the weather, but the healers thought that it would likely take a couple of weeks for him to regain his strength.

The headmaster was covering his classes tomorrow, which was a Friday, allowing them to settle in for a few days. Severus had decided a few days ago that the child was not ready to return to classes. He had planned on setting up a cot in his office for the boy, which was connected to his classroom by a door behind his desk. This would allow the child some privacy but he would be able to keep a close eye on his throughout the day. Severus hoped that this would be sufficient and he wouldn’t have to send the child to stay with Poppy while he taught as he anticipated that the child would be more than put out by the separation.

Separation anxiety was something that he and Ted planned to talk more on. Ted had said that it was a natural progression of the child’s healing and that it was actually a good sign, that the child was bonding well with his primary caregiver. Ted hypothesized that the child would become less clingy the more confident he grew in himself and his trust that Severus was not about to leave him. Severus secretly did not mind the child’s separation anxiety as it felt good to know that the child was reassured by his presence. And if he was being honest with himself, Severus had a little bit of anxiety at the thought of leaving the child himself. Maybe it was slightly odd for a parent and an 11-year-old child to have such a codependent relationship, but Harrison was not a normal boy and Severus was determined to meet him where he was and provide for his current needs, regardless of the opinions of others. And if something within Severus himself was mended by providing the love and attention to his son that he himself did not receive as a child, well that was an added bonus.

Chapter Text

Chapter 22

Being ill sucked hippogriff butt, was what Harry determined after the first few days of being cooped up in Snape’s office. He could see his father teaching his classes through the open door that led to his classroom, but Harry was bored. He had spent most of the last two weeks sleeping all day and he was starting to feel restless. He ached to stretch his legs and go outside but he knew neither were likely to happen within the next few days. Snape had been even more protective and overbearing since Harry was discharged from the hospital. If Harry hadn’t been so starved for parental attention he probably would have felt suffocated but part of him enjoyed how much of a mother hen Snape was.

With a sigh he picked through the stack of books beside the small cot Snape had set up for him in his office. If he was going to be stuck here, he might as well attempt to be somewhat productive. His hands froze as they hovered over a book he had yet to flip through. It was a self-updating history book covering the history of the magical world over the last several hundred years. His hands shook slightly as he carefully lifted the book into his lap, opening it to the table of contents.

He had been in this world for approximately 6 months. In that time, he had learned and accomplished next to nothing. His body and mind were still dealing with the effects of the war and the abuse this body had faced. Part of him felt supremely guilty that he had been so wrapped up in his own mind that he had failed to look into this world further.

It was with growing dread that he started flipping through the large tome, looking for information covering the last 20 years specifically. Lily Potter was alive and well in this universe, so he knew that if there was a war, it did not end like his own. He continued to flip through the book until a title caught his attention:

Neville Longbottom, The-Boy-Who-Lived

His hands froze and his mind became blank with shock. Yes, it seemed this world was very different from his own.

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It was hours later and still Harry was feeling a bit dazed. Learning that it was not the Harry Potter of this world that survived the Killing Curse was a shock to Harry. Other than being named as Neville’s godparents, James and Lily Potter were not mentioned in this book. But it seemed that not both of Neville’s parents had perished that night. His father had died for him. His mother had been visiting her own mother at St. Mungo’s who was ill with Dragon pox. Harry was at least grateful that Neville had one living parent to care for him. He knew the boy had suffered in his world under the care of his grieving grandmother. The woman had been nearly insane in her grief for her son and had not been equipped to properly raise another child. As a result, the boy had been almost afraid of his own shadow and had had terrible self-esteem.

It seemed like other than this, the war and its ending seemed very similar to that of his own world, which both terrified and reassured Harry. If the war was similar in all other ways to how his own ended, then he had a leg up on preventing the return of the worst dark lord to ever exist in Britain. But there were so many holes that a simple history book could not fill in.

No, Harry needed to channel his inner Hermione and do some research. He needed to further investigate the end of the war and what may have happened to Voldemort before doing anything else. He had to ensure that the information he had applied to this world, as well. He vowed that tomorrow he would start digging around. Unfortunately, he was completely unprepared for the next wrench this world was going to throw his way.

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Severus was sat at the head table, slowly eating a simple breakfast of sausage and eggs. His gaze was frequently on his son. It was the first time since the boy had been ill that they took breakfast in the Great Hall. He knew he had been over protective of the child since his recent illness, but given the boy’s history he could not find it within himself to care. The child needed his protection and care in a way that no one ever had, and Severus was determined to provide it. So wrapped up in his mind was he, that he did not notice the delivery of the morning post. Professors on either side of him had tensed upon the delivery of the Daily Profit. It was then that he noticed that the Headmaster was notably absent. He looked over at the copy of the Daily Profit that was held in the tight grip of Minerva and the breath was knocked out of him.

In a blink of an eye, he was standing from his chair and striding across the Great Hall, hoping to intercept what happened anyway. Just as he was several feet away from the Hufflepuff table, his son caught sight of the paper and completely froze. Any hope that his son did not recognize the woman maniacally laughing on the front page was dashed as his son’s back arched and his magic shattered all of the glassware in a 15-foot vicinity, causing surrounding children to scream out in surprise and fear. Severus reached the child just as he started to fall from the bench, catching the hyperventilating boy with ease. The potions professor was quick to tuck the boy against his chest and stride from the hall. The laughing face of Bellatrix Lestrange, recently escaped from Azkaban, mocking him and their son from the face of hundreds of newspapers as he carried his now comatose form from the room.

Chapter Text

Chapter 23

Harry’s mind was buzzing. He had been sitting with his fellow first year Hufflepuffs when the morning post had arrived. He had noticed that the Great Hall seemed to quiet for a second before fast paced chatter flittered up and down the tables at the same time. He had caught the image on the front page out of the corner of his eye, up until that point ready to ignore whatever garbage the Ministry was spewing. He had completely frozen in shock at seeing Bellatrix’s face, headline declaring her as having escaped the wizarding prison. The shock had quickly turned into ice cold panic and he dimly registered that his magic had lashed out, breaking the plates, bowls, and glasses of those around him.

‘This wasn’t supposed to happen,’ his mind supplied as his surrounding started to blur with his increased anxiety. His chest was heaving and his fingers started to tingle. His ears were buzzing like static on a broken television. He was distantly aware of the strong arms that had wrapped around him and the broad chest he had been tucked into. As he was carried away from his peers, he continued to hyperventilate, clawing at the dark-haired man’s robes and tucking his legs up, desperately trying to convey to the man that he was in no state to tolerate being put down. After exiting the Great Hall, the man had started murmuring reassurances to him, a firm hand patting his back all while cradling him against his chest, but Harry couldn’t hear what was being said over the static in his ears.

The fog, which he had effectively pushed away for months now, seemed to creep up on him and Harry felt himself start to sink into a place where his mind was able to protect itself. He didn’t even register when they entered their rooms, but he did register the potions professor attempting to place him down on the sofa, jolting him to the present and causing a devastated cry to erupt from him. In response, the man quickly hoisted him back up into his arms, bouncing him like one would a very young child. The man continued to try and console him as the floo flared to life, not pausing even when the blond head of Lucius appeared in the flames, asking for permission to enter their rooms.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy stepped through into the potions professor’s quarters and Harry buried his face even deeper into his father’s robes, unwilling to part from the man even if part of him was slightly embarrassed at his current state.

“I guess it is too much to hope that he did not recognize her?” Lucius asked, voice reflecting the tension that had settled in the room.

“You could say that,” his father responded, continuing to pat and rub his back. Later, when thinking back about this conversation, Harry would be confused at their meaning. In the moment, however, he was desperately trying to calm himself, but he knew he was fighting a losing battle. His chest felt tight and his skin was starting to burn. He allowed himself to slip once more into the fog. Just for a little bit, he told himself. Just so that he did not have to feel and think for a few minutes.

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Severus was devastated. Not at the fact that Bella had somehow managed to do the impossible. No, he was devastated that his son seemingly recognized his mother and had such a profound negative reaction. He was devastated that the child was once again catatonic, his eyes blank and distant. While the boy hadn’t spoken very many words, he had come a long way. To see his eyes once again look like this was completely devastating to the man and he hoped that not all of their progress was lost.

He cradled the boy, swaddled in his blanket with his dragon stuffie carefully tucked into his arms, and rocked him as Cissa and Lucius spoke in quiet tones from the other side of the living room. Empty green eyes blinked up at him, continuing to devastate Severus further.

“You think it best?” Lucius asked his wife stiffly, clearly unsure with whatever Cissa had proposed.

“I think that if we are going to continue with conversations regarding Bella and the boy, that we need everyone here for it,” she said grimly. Lucius just nodded in reply and Cissa was quick to turn back to the floo. She threw in some floo powder and kneeled, sticking just her head in. Just a few moments later she stood and took a step back, returning to her husband’s side as a woman with dark curly hair stepped through.

Andromeda Tonks emerged from the floo, and for the first time since they were teens the two sisters were in the same room. The silence between them was deafening and time seemed to stand still, until it was broken by a quiet admission from nonother than Narcissa herself. “I’ve missed you, Andy,” she said softly, voice uncharacteristically vulnerable. Within seconds the two sisters, torn apart by family politics, were hugging.

After several minutes the two separated but the previous awkwardness had resolved and discussion was soon underway regarding the recently escaped Bella and the child’s safety. In retrospect, Severus contributed less than he should have, so caught up was he in the child in his arms. He brushed the hair out of the boy’s eyes, kissing his forehead gently.

“Lucius and I have a safe house that we purchased after the war,” Cissa said, catching Severus’ attention. “We could easily key Severus and Harrison to the wards. In the event that she turns her attention to the boy, they could easily go there.” It wasn’t a bad idea, and it was quickly agreed that they would add them to the wards as soon as possible, to be used in the event that Hogwarts’ security was deemed to have been breached.

“I suspect that Bella’s priority will be finding and attempting resurrection of the Dark Lord,” Lucius drawled from where he was leaning against a bookshelf, a scotch in one hand, causing those present in the room to flinch.

“You think that she will stand a chance?” Andromeda questioned in a grim voice.

“Bella was and is the Dark Lord’s most devoted follower,” Lucius said simply. “She has likely been perseverating on the possibility of resurrection since his initial fall and her arrest. If I had to guess, this will continue to take priority and the boy will be an afterthought.” His words were anything but reassuring and the room once again felt tense with anxiety.

“If I can speak plainly,” Severus interjected. “We must try to prevent the Dark Lord from rising once again. I do not think the wizarding world would survive him returning. Due to the first war, Hogwarts has had a record breaking low in enrollments this year. Too many lives were lost.” Three nods met his assertion. Even Lucius, who was also branded, agreed that another rise of the Dark Lord would be detrimental to the survival of their people.

Lucius seemed to be debating something with himself, his brow furrowed and his face greatly troubled. “I may have something in my possession, given to me by the Dark Lord, that is key to his continued survival,” he finally said, body stiff. “Maybe it is time that we take a much closer look at it and the events of that night that lead to him being vanquished.” His eyes locked on the form of his wife, “For he is not someone I ever want Draco to kneel to.”

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Severus stared down at the diary sitting on Lucius’ desk. He could feel the darkness radiating from the small, inconspicuous book. He dared not touch it, instead using his wand to scan the object magically. The diary was odd. It did not respond to magical probes like any enchanted object he had ever seen. In fact, it seemed to have magic of its very own. Magic that swayed within the book with tendrils that intermittently spread out, searching for something or someone to grasp onto. When Lucius had set the book down, one said tendril was starting to encircle his wrist. To Severus it seemed that the book was attempting to ensnare someone, to do what, and for what purpose he was not sure.

The two former Death Eaters continued to stare down at the book, silence heavy between them. It was the longer Severus stared at it, the more he felt that the book had its own magical core. But that shouldn’t be possible. Only living magical creatures had magical cores. Enchanted objects themselves retained magic, but it would not be organized like within the diary. The magic of enchanted objects could be seen using a magic revealing charm and was seen as an evenly distributed glow. The magic in the book was centered into a single, wavy consolidation that seemed to be independently interacting with its environment. If Severus didn’t know better, he would say that the diary was a living magical being.

It was this thought that had his brain stuttering to a halt, horror filled him as realization dawned. “Oh Merlin,” he gasped, terrified eyes flying to meet Lucius’, the gravity of the situation starting to fully sink in. ‘Horcruxes,’ he thought, dread mounting. ‘Of course, the Dark Lord would stoop to something like a Horcrux.’

Chapter Text

Chapter 24

The decision to pull the child from classes had weighed heavy on Severus’ heart. The news that Bellatrix had escaped Azkaban had rattled his small son. It had been four days since the woman’s face was printed on the Daily Prophet’s front page and since then his son had been even more clingy. The child was downright terrified of Severus leaving the room.

Considering how emotionally damaged his child was, the boy had had very few meltdowns since rejoining the magical world. Primarily he tended to just shut down. But the boy’s complete and utter meltdown when he realized that Severus had left with Lucius to see the diary and he had been left in the arms of Narcissa was not something Severus would soon forget. He and Lucius had returned to his rooms to find his living room in complete disarray with Narcissa and Andy frantically attempting to console the child. The boy’s magic was whipping around the room at a furious pace, throwing books off of shelves and causing glassware to rattle in the adjoining kitchen.

The child was not screaming, which was probably one of the worst parts. Silent tears ran down his face as he pulled his own hair and refused to allow either of the two women to hold him. Severus had been quick to approach the boy, murmuring to him softly as he reached out to the child. The boy had all but thrown himself at Severus, tucking his small face into the skin of his neck and refusing to be put down. The child had eventually exhausted himself, sagging against his chest and breaths evening out. Still Severus was hesitant to lay the child back down and instead had placed a silencing charm over the child in his arms so that he and the others could speak.

Severus had never imagined Lucius turning away from the Dark Lord so completely. But when he looked into the man’s eyes when he spoke of the man potentially being around his son, Severus could tell how terrifying this was to his friend. What was scary was that for the first time in his life, Severus could empathize with the man, for he was now a father to a little boy himself.

Ultimately the group decided to not involve any others. They would research further into horcruxes. Lucius knew that the one in his possession was unlikely to be the only one, crazy though that thought was. The Dark Lord had hinted at having multiple safeguards to insure his immortality. With one horcrux in their possession, Severus wanted to take a little bit of time to study it and the magic still linking it to what was likely the wraith that was the Dark Lord.

With those thoughts, Severus’ mind returned to the present. In the four days that had passed since their discovery, Severus had made very little progress in his research. Unfortunately, information on horcruxes was incredibly difficult to come by. Severus himself had more knowledge than the others, but what he knew was still very limited. They needed more information, and that was where Andy was coming in. The woman was still on good terms with Sirius Black, the current heir and who had access to the seemingly endless library that the Ancient House of Black had accumulated over several hundred years. They could only hope that she would stumble across something useful.

Pushing away the thoughts currently plaguing him, Severus turned his attention back to the child. The boy was currently laid on his back in the tub, one of Severus’ hands cupping the back of his head to insure he stayed above the water. The child was very close to falling asleep as Severus gently bathed him. Green eyes fought hard to stay open but Severus knew that it was a losing battle. The child had a difficult time sleeping at baseline but the last four days had been particularly difficult. Unless he was with Severus, the child was unable to sleep peacefully. Nightmares were not new but the child had been particularly distressed and haunted by them over the last few days. Severus was quick to give in and tuck the child into bed beside him, knowing it was the only way he would be getting any amount of sleep as well. At least the child had not shut down again since his initial meltdown.

He finished bathing the boy, flicking his wand to instantly drain the tub before wrapping the small first year in a fluffy towel and carrying him from the bathroom. He laid the child on his bed and summoned pajamas from the child’s room. He made quick work of drying the child off before spending several minutes massaging in the ointment given to them by Andy to help reduce some of the boy’s scaring. This had quickly become one of the boy’s favorite bedtime routines and if the child could purr like a cat, Severus had no doubt that he would currently be doing so.

Speaking of cats, Severus grumpily eyed the orange monstrosity that was currently glaring at him from the top of his wardrobe. Severus dressed the boy, keeping an eye on the cat as it slowly made its way down to the bed, leaping from furniture to furniture and knocking several things to the floor in the process. With the boy constantly sleeping in the same bed as Severus, the cat had taken to joining them, and Severus was less than pleased. If he locked the cat outside the door, the blasted thing spent all night yowling. The second night he had done so he had found a hairball in his favorite pair of work shoes. Severus liked to think that he was not one to negotiate with terrorists, but he was quick to give into the little devil’s demands and allow him into the bedroom at night.

He tucked the boy into the covers, the child clearly too far gone for a story and the cat curled up beside the child’s pillow, keeping watch as Severus showered himself before tucking in for the night. Tomorrow was Monday and the first time he would attempt to send his son to classes since his illness and the news of Bella’s escape. He did not want to pull the boy from classes, as it seemed like it would be admitting defeat, but he would if he felt that it was in the child’s best interest. He drifted to sleep, hoping that all would go well tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Chapter 25

Harry sat unhappily at the Hufflepuff table. Students around him chatted about the upcoming day while he looked on in silence. Part of him was relieved to get back into the normal routine but largely he was very put out by the idea of attending classes. With Bellatrix escaping prison, he felt that he was running out of time to get ahead of the impending war. Not for the first time Harry considered sneaking away from class and going to the library. Unfortunately, he almost always had an older student escorting him to and from classes and professors kept a very close eye on him during class. His chances to sneak away would be few and far in between, but he felt like he had to get away for a little bit and make it to the library that he could fill in some of the missing gaps in his knowledge for this timeline. He would have to keep an eye out for a chance to get away without being noticed.

That decided, Harry allowed himself to be led out of the Great Hall by a 6th year prefect to transfiguration. He paid no attention to the lesson, instead content to watch the snail he was supposed to be turning into a hair pin. The little snail slowly made its way around the edge of the desk, looking for a way off.

He watched the little snail, whom he named Sheldon, until the end of the class, pouting up at McGonagall when she came over at the end of the class to put him back in the snail terrarium with everyone else’s snails. Harry kept an eye on the container as students started lining up, turning their essays into a pile on her desk. When he felt no one was looking, he crept back over to the terrarium and quickly but carefully snatched Sheldon back and started creeping towards the door, slipping out soundlessly. With several minutes until the halls started filling up with students headed to their next class, Harry started making his way towards the Library, snail friend in hand. After a few minutes Crookshanks joined, seemingly leading the way with his tail straight in the air.

He was getting close to the library when something collided with his back, sending him into the stone wall. His head cracked against the cold stone and he immediately saw stars. Dazed, he slumped to the ground, not even protecting himself as his attacker started kicking him.

Voices around him started arguing. He vaguely recognized them, but his head was already pounding and he was starting to feel terribly nauseous.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” said the voice of Dean Thomas.

“Shut up if you aren’t going to help or get lost!” exclaimed the voice of another boy.

“He’s Snape’s son. Do you want to get expelled when its found out we hurt him?” Dean asked, desperation clear in his voice. There was no response and the kicking resumed, slamming him into the stone ground. A painful kick to his right wrist caused a sickening snap to be heard and Harry finally cried out in pain.

“Fuck this!” Dean yelled before his footsteps retreated at a fast pace. A second set of footsteps quickly followed the first away from them.

Just as the next kick collided with his ribs, a large orange furball, hissing and spitting in it’s anger, came flying to his defense. Landing on his attacker’s face, causing the boy to scream in surprise and pain as the cat’s nails sunk into the flesh of his face and scalp.

Harry watched through blurry eyes as Crookshanks viciously fought his attacker. Yowls of anger mixing with the screams of pain in the air and quickly catching the attention of a nearby professor.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on here?” asked the voice of Professor Babbling, who taught Ancient Runes. The other boy threw Crookshanks off of him and the cat ran back towards his huddled form, getting between him and his attacker with his hackles raised. Crookshanks continued to growl as Harry brought his damaged wrist against his chest, cradling it with his unharmed hand. It was at this point that he noticed something slightly wet in his hand, causing him to look down. He barely managed to make out the blurry form of Sheldon, crushed in his hand at the impact of his attacker’s foot against his wrist and hand.

Something within Harry started to shake and his magic started to leach into the air. Distantly Harry could hear the voice of Professor Babbling trying to calm him down, but he was far too upset. Cracks started to appear in the stone floor around him and spreading up the wall he was huddled against. His magic had just started to crack threateningly in the air when more footsteps were heard thundering down the hall towards them. He curled further into the wall, his magic hissing angrily around him as the potions professor rounded the corner.

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Severus had been dismissing his NEWT students when two first year Gryffindors had burst through the door to his classroom, gasping for breath and clearly having run from across the school.

“Harrison,” Thomas panted, stopping the snarky remark from escaping his lips.

“By the library,” gasped Finnigan.

Severus was out the door in a flash, almost shoving past the two boys in his haste. He ran, terror filling him as he rushed out of the dungeons and to the Library, which was luckily located on the first floor. As he drew closer, he began to feel his son’s frenzied magic, causing him to run even faster as dread began to grow inside of him.

He rounded the corner to find Bathsheda Babbling shielding Lily’s son from the magic hissing in the air around them. His son’s crazy cat stood a few feet away, growling lowly and tail lashing threateningly. It was then that he saw the crumpled form of his son, looking incredibly small against the stone wall where he was hunched into himself. Tear filled green eyes met his and the magic in the air calmed somewhat.

Bathsheda hauled Potter away, Severus paying little attention to the blood dripping down the boy’s face from numerous scratch marks. He had eyes only for his son. The boy’s robes were rumpled and dirty, blood dripping down the side of his face and his right arm cradled to his chest. The boy stayed huddled against the wall but as Severus approached the cat calmed down, allowing him to get closer to his son. The boy’s magic had calmed considerably and Severus could tell that the boy was close to collapsing from exhaustion.

He lowered himself to the boy’s height, speaking softly to him as he got closer and closer, trying to convey to the boy that he was safe. Glassy green eyes met his before rolling back and the boy fainted. Severus caught him just before his head hit the floor, cradling his small form to his chest. He turned to find the terrified first year Gryffindor staring at him, guilt clear on his face. Lily's boy or not, enough was enough.

Chapter Text

Chapter 26

Severus stared in mounting fury at the cowering first year Gryffindor. “Bathsheda, if you would be so kind as to escort young Mr. Potter to the Headmaster’s office, I will be along after getting Harrison sorted in the Hospital Wing.” Severus said, barely restrained vitriol in his voice. The woman nodded before dragging the protesting boy away.

Once they were out of sight, Severus turned his attention to the form cradled in his arms. His son was still unconscious. His face was starting to swell and Severus knew that even with a good bruise balm that his face would be sore and slightly bruised.

With large strides he started making the trek to the Hospital Wing. On the way, classes let out and students streamed into the hall. At the sight of the potions professor cradling his bloodied child, the tidal wave of students parted, allowing him to walk between them easily. Just as they were reaching the infirmary, the little Hufflepuff started to stir. Severus quickened his strides as he started a constant stream of reassurances, free hand patting the small child on his back.

“It is okay, sweet boy,” he said softly. “You are safe.” The small first year’s eyes cracked open, staring up at him as the boy started to come to.

They entered the Hospital Wing to see Poppy tending to a young Ravenclaw with painful boils on her face. Severus strode to a bed on the other side of the infirmary and sat down, continuing to cradle the small boy in his arms. “Poppy is going to fix you right up, baby boy,” the child seemed to be paying attention to him, so Severus continued to speak softly to him. “After everything is taken care of you and Daddy will go back to our rooms and rest. Hmm? How does that sound?” Tearful green eyes continued to watch him for another moment before turning to his right hand.

“Poppy will fix it sweetheart, don’t worry,” Severus said softly, but the child did not appear to be listening anymore. Instead, the child began to open his right hand, which must have been exceptionally painful given his clearly broken wrist. The child’s hand opened just enough for Severus to see something squished in his palm. “What’s this, hmm?” he asked, not expecting an answer but hoping to distract his son.

“Sheldon,” the child whispered in a watery voice, catching Severus completely by surprise.

“Sheldon?” he parroted back at the child. “What is Sheldon, sweetheart?”

“Hurt,” the Hufflepuff sobbed. Severus was quick to starting shushing the child as the tears started to flow faster from his eyes.

“My goodness,” said the Matron as she bustled over. “What is with all of these tears?”

“There was an incident with another student,” Severus replied softly, a touch of anger returning to his voice. “I suspect a broken wrist and a concussion at minimum, but I would appreciate a full examination.” Poppy nodded and together the two stripped the young boy from his school clothes, taking note of the developing bruises along his chest and back. The boy had begun to shake as the adrenaline wore off, prompting Severus to cast a warming charm on him until he could bundle the boy back up.

“You were correct about the concussion,” the Matron said in a grim voice. “But there is no bleeding in his brain or signs of a skull fracture. I am going to have to reset his wrist, he broke both his radius and his ulna,” she said simply. “I suspect it might be better for all involved if we give him a sleeping draught.” Severus was quick to agree with the Matron.

As she went to fetch one, Severus quietly reassured his son, “It will be okay Harrison. You are going to take a little nap and next thing you know we will be in our rooms.”

Poppy was quick to return, potion in hand. Severus kissed the boy on an unbruised area of his face as the Matron spelled the potion into his stomach. It took effect quickly and the boy was out in a matter of seconds. Severus gently removed the still form of the crushed snail from the child’s hand and placed him off to the side. In a matter of a few minutes Poppy reset the child’s wrist and placed him in a splint. “Keep that on for a few days, Severus,” she advised. “His bones are fragile from the malnutrition to begin with. I don’t want him using the wrist for the next several days and straining it further.” Severus nodded and started gently massaging bruise balm into the skin of the boy’s chest and back. Luckily, he had no broken ribs. Severus thinks he might have actually strangled Lily’s son if that was the case.

“We have approximately 30-60 minutes before the sleeping potion wears off, but after the day he has had I suspect that he might sleep a bit longer,” Severus said as he dressed the child in a pair of hospital pajamas. “Do you mind watching him here while I deal with Mr. Potter and the Headmaster?”

“Of course, Severus,” Poppy was quick to reply. “Harrison is no trouble at all.”

Severus nodded his thanks and kissed the child on his brow one more time before turning and striding from the Hospital Wing, robes billowing out behind him. Those who saw him in the hallway thought he looked like a vengeful knight.

He arrived at the stairs to the Headmaster’s office to see the two young Gryffindors that had warned him about the attack. He nodded at them before continuing past the Gargoyle and up the stairs. He arrived at the door and threw it open before Albus was able to magically open it, causing it to bang loudly. He strode into the room to find the Potter brat sat in a chair in front of the Headmaster, hands folded in his lap and his eyes cast downward. Lily stood off to the side with her arms crossed, anger clear in every line of her face.

“Severus,” greeted the Headmaster. “Just who we were waiting for.”

“Headmaster, this boy here has brutally assaulted my son, causing severe injury and emotional distress.” Severus growled, throwing his arm out to point at the first year Gryffindor, who shrunk further down into his seat. “I want him expelled from this school as he clearly does not respect the wellbeing of other students and has shown that he is far too aggressive to be around them safely.”

“Now Severus,” said Dumbledore in his annoyingly calm and grandfatherly voice. “There must be more to the story. Perhaps they were playing too roughly and your son was injured? I do not feel that expulsion should be our immediate go to every time a child is injured.”

“My son was attacked while walking through the halls. He currently lays in the Hospital Wing, bruised, concussed, and with a wrist fracture. The bruises on his chest are in the shape of Potter’s boots. This was not a simple childhood wrestling match or schoolyard fight between two boys. No, this was a targeted attack against a boy who Potter knew would not fight back.” The more he spoke, the angrier he started to become and the last few words were spat harshly. “If there is not an adequate punishment for this offense, I will be going to the school board and I will be filing a report with the Aurors. This type of behavior should not be tolerated within these halls.”

Dumbledore stared at him in shock, seeming to have no immediate words as Severus continued, “Furthermore, I am officially pulling Harrison from his first-year classes. I do not feel safe in the current climate to send him to class, nor do I feel that he is currently benefiting from attending. At the moment, I am also reconsidering my continued employment –“

“Now Severus,” Dumbledore interrupted, “surely there is no need to go so far as to pull the boy from school and quit. I am sure that we can come to an agreeable punishment without snapping the child’s wand.”

The Gryffindor’s nervous eyes bounced between the two arguing professors before turning to plead at his mother. The red headed woman sighed loudly before stepping forward slightly, “A suspension perhaps?” the woman asked, voice grim.

The first year gasped horrified, “But mom,” he exclaimed, “It was just supposed to be a prank!”

“Pranks that cause bodily harm are not pranks, son. They are acts of bullying and assault.” Lily responded harshly, causing the boy to shrink back into his seat, muttering to himself about it being unfair.

Dumbledore seemed to ponder the idea of a suspension for a few moments, eventually giving into the idea seeing as it originated with the child’s own mother. It was deemed that the boy would be suspended for the rest of the week with 100 points lost. Upon his return, Severus demanded that he attend detention every Saturday evening with Filch for the foreseeable future. The boy protested loudly at this, as it would conflict with his ability to see the Quidditch matches. Lily agreed to the punishment before Dumbledore had a chance to object before grabbing her son by the ear and marching him from the room.

Severus stared in disgust at the Headmaster for another moment before turning and leaving the room, slamming the door behind him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 27

Harry’s brain was fuzzy. He shifted slightly in the bed, urging himself to wake up from what he recognized as a sleeping draught. He vaguely heard two people talking before arms curled around him and lifted him from the soft surface he was laying on. He groaned softly as his nausea returned and his head started to slightly pound and was gently shushed by the person holding him.

“Da-?” he questioned, confused and drowsy.

“I’ve got you, sweet boy,” rumbled the chest he was leaning against. “We are going to go relax in our rooms. I have canceled my classes for the rest of the day.”

Harry felt the man take several large steps to exit the infirmary, which jolted him awake slightly as he remembered something important. He pulled his head away from the man’s chest and turned in his arms to point back the way they had come. “Sheldon,” he said forlornly. The man’s steps paused and a hand started rubbing his back gently, mindful of the bruising still present under his hospital pajamas.

“I believe that your little snail friend has died, sweetheart. I am sorry.” The man truly did sound apologetic, though it was not his fault. But Harry knew that the snail was no longer alive, he just did not want to leave him in the cold infirmary to be thrown away or vanished with magic.

He pointed again in the general direction that he knew the snail had been left in. The man sighed softly before turning around and bringing them back into the infirmary. “Would you like to see baby boy?” the man asked, causing Harry to blush slightly at the term of endearment. Nevertheless, Harry nodded, causing the man to bring him over to the table where the snail still laid.

The sight of the crushed snail caused Harry’s breath to hitch again and the man was quick to start consoling him, murmuring softly to him and patting him on the back. Harry didn’t know why he was so emotionally distraught over the little thing but he was, and for some reason it seemed important to him not to leave the snail behind.

“Bury him?” he asked, turning to look into the face of the potions professor.

“You wish to bury the snail?” the man asked, surprise in his voice. Harry nodded quickly, happy that the man understood what he was asking. The man seemed to look at him for a second before agreeing sweeping the little form into a box that he conjured.

Harry held the box in his good hand as they made their way to the front doors to the school. It was a cold January day and before they even made it outside, Snape cast a warming charm on them both. Something inside Harry warmed further at the forethought and care the man showed him and he leaned his head back against his chest.

“Here should do,” the man said, coming to a stop just out of sight from the front doors. They were beside a small sapling, clearly having just a couple years of growth. Snow was on the ground but the small tree had a grassy area still underneath it. Harry thought that it was perfect. Harry watched as the man used his magic to make a small hole in the soil and then Harry leaned forward to set the box inside. Harry watched in trepidation as the man returned the soil, covering the box in entirety. For some reason, the act of burying the snail seemed important. Maybe it was because Harry had lost so many but had only ever been able to say goodbye at Dumbledore’s funeral. Had left his world and time with so many that were unburied. Maybe it was because for all intents and purposes, Harry was a child again and his emotions seemed much stronger. Harry wasn’t sure the exact reason for why he felt like the snail had to have a final resting place, but he did, and he was grateful to Snape for granting his wish. The man surprised him further by summoning a rock and placing it beside the grave, making a nice headstone for the snail. Harry watched from Snape’s arms as he carefully carved a miniature headstone for the tiny creature he had met in transfiguration.

Sheldon the snail
- A friend

It was a simple thing, but it warmed Harry’s heart and he found himself with a lump in his throat because of how thoughtful the man was. He turned back towards the man and buried his face into his robes, ready to go inside and lay down.

The man carried him back inside and after several minutes they reached the comforting warmth of their rooms. The potions professor swapped out Harry’s hospital pajamas for a pair of Harry’s own, much softer ones and changed into more causal clothes himself before grabbing Harry’s blanket and stuffed dragon and heading back to the living room. Harry held onto the man tightly, hoping to convey that he did not want to be left on the sofa by himself.

He was moderately surprised that instead of even attempting to set him down on his own, the man instead laid back on the sofa himself, bringing Harry to drape across his large chest. He settled in with his left ear above the man’s heart and legs on either side of dark-haired man’s abdomen. Harry sighed in contentment as the man tucked his blanket around both of them. There was no room for his dragon, but the man propped him up on the coffee table in Harry’s line of sight. It was a small gesture but it managed to make Harry even more comfortable. He sagged into the man’s chest, happy to be held and coddled after the morning he had had.

Harry knew he acted like a young child. He knew that he should be embarrassed at how much he craved the love and affection so easily given to him by this man. But at the end of the day, Harry was an 11-year-old boy with the feelings and emotions of a child and the trauma of a child soldier and an abused orphan. He felt like the cracked pieces of his soul were being knit back together with every small act of kindness the man offered to him. He needed the love and affection being offered to him and he had no intention of pushing that away now that he finally had it.

Chapter Text

Chapter 28

The child was quick to fall asleep on Severus’ chest, likely in part to the sleeping draught he recently received. Still, Severus basked slightly in the trust the child continually showed to him. He continued to rub the child’s back well after the boy had fallen asleep, taking his own comfort in the child’s peace. Today had been a very trying day for both of them and Severus allowed himself this moment with his son. It wasn’t even noon and his son had been assaulted, he had demanded a child be expelled, and he had threatened to quit. If Severus was being honest with himself, he was still tempted to quit. He had enough money tucked away to sustain them for several years if need be and he could easily brew and sell potions privately, but there was a part of him that was saddened at the idea of taking Harrison away from Hogwarts.

The child shifted in his sleep slightly and Severus was quick to start rubbing his hand up and down the boy’s back, dropping a kiss to the child’s curly dark hair. The boy settled, face pressing into the front of Severus’ shirt.

Severus pushed his thoughts away, allowing himself to relax in the moment with his child and attempt to allow the stress of the morning to leave him. He had just drifted off to sleep himself when a slight knock at his door jolted him awake. Reaching out with his magic, he opened the door and allowed his oldest friend to enter into his rooms.

The red-haired woman quietly stepped into the living room, eyes quickly scanning the child on his chest. Severus knew the boy’s face was now swollen and slightly bruised. The bruise balm would expedite the healing process, but for the next several days the evidence of the assault would be seen on his child’s face. The woman seemed to pale while staring at the boy, eyes drifting to look at his splinted wrist, before stressed green eyes met his. She fidgeted with her hands for a second before taking a seat in front of them on the coffee table.

“Severus, I-“ the woman seemed to fumble with her thought process for a second and then took a moment to gather herself before continuing, “Severus, I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am that this has happened.” He kept silent, allowing her to speak. He looped his free arm under the child’s bum, pulling him closer into his chest and into the skin of his neck. “I honestly do not understand where all of Harry’s anger and aggression has come from.”

Severus’ eyes narrowed slightly and he opened his mouth to speak but he was quickly cut off, “I know Harry has spent his life looking up to his father and Sirius. He has heard endless tales of their pranks and school shenanigans but I did not think that he would do something like this.” The woman twisted her hands anxiously as she spoke, eyes once again returning to the sleeping form of his child on his chest. “Harrison should never have been hurt and I will make sure that Harry understands that this type of behavior will never be accepted.” Her green eyes seemed to glow slightly and Severus could hear a certain finality in her voice. Severus was sure that the child’s week-long suspension would not be pleasant.

He was about the reply when the child shifted again in his arms. Dazed and tired green eyes blinked several times, his good hand fisting Severus’ shirt as the boy realized they were not alone. Severus knew that the boy was likely to be confused and groggy for the rest of the day due to his concussion and the potions he had received. He was quick to start reassuring the boy as he could feel the boy’s magic become restless and on edge, waiting for an attack despite being in the safety of their rooms.

It took several minutes of quietly talking to the boy and patting his back before his magic settled and Severus let out a sigh of relief. The last thing the child needed right now was to overexert himself with any more accidental magic. The child was slightly more awake now but Severus knew he’d likely sleep most of the day away.

His friend was looking at the boy sadly. “Hello Harrison,” she said softly, mindful of the fact that he would likely have an aversion to loud voices. “I am very sorry that you were hurt today.”

The boy looked at her for a second but the word “hurt” seemed to trigger him slightly and his bottom lip wobbled. “Sheldon,” he said in a watery voice. Severus tightened the blanket around them and continued to pat the boy’s back.

Lily looked at him, puzzled. “Sheldon?” she asked, surprised but confused at the small child’s words.

“It would seem,” Severus said softly, “that the child grew attached to the small garden snail he was supposed to transfigure into a hair pin in Minerva’s class. The little creature was in his hand when he was attacked and did not survive the impact.” The man dropped a light kiss onto the child’s head. “As you can tell,” he continued, “Harrison is quite torn up about it.”

The woman’s lips turned down at both sides for a second and she seemed like she wanted to reach out to soothe the boy but thought better of it. She looked deep in thought for a second before pulling out her wand. Severus did not hear an incantation but the next thing he knew the quill on his coffee table had been transfigured into a stuffed snail. “I know this is not a replacement for your friend,” she said softly as she offered it to the child. “But maybe he can offer some comfort.” The boy seemed to look at her for several long moments before turning his eyes towards the toy. He appeared slightly mesmerized while taking in the sight of the little green snail stuffie but made no move to actually take it from the woman. Severus reached out and gently took it from her before offering it to the boy, who was quick to burry his face into it. He didn’t offer a thanks but no thank you was needed.

“That should stay transfigured for a very long time,” the red-haired woman said softly. “I more than slightly overpowered the spell.”

The child settled once more now that he had a new friend cuddled up with him, tired eyes drifted closed and his breaths evened out. With another whispered apology the woman made her way out of their rooms and Severus and his son once more drifted off, content to nap for the rest of the afternoon.

Chapter Text

Chapter 29

Harry felt hungover the next morning. He had only been hungover a couple of times, specifically after parties in Gryffindor tower. After nights like that he would just make sure to drink a lot of water and would toughen through it until he felt better. This was worse. He was tired, his head was pounding, and he felt like he was going to be sick. Add to the fact that his body was sore. His face, chest, and back all ached and he was still suffering the effects of his accidental magic getting out of control.

He suspected the Snape knew he was feeling poorly, as the man was incredibly gentle with him. He took several extra minutes to apply some sort of cream to his skin, which helped to alleviate some of the pain. Harry laid placidly on the bed while the man maneuvered his arms and legs into his clothes for the day, tired eyes frequently drifting closed. The dark-haired man allowed him to lay in the bed for several more minutes while he got himself ready for the day and Harry curled back up with his blanket and stuffies.

Several minutes later the man lifted him off of the bed and cradled him against his chest. Harry knew he must have looked rough because the man allowed him to bring his blanket and stuffies, which he had a death grip on.

“You are going to keep Daddy company today,” the man told him softly as they left their rooms and started walking to the potions classroom, causing Harry to relax slightly. He had dreaded going to class today with how he felt.

Eventually they made it to the potions classroom and Snape laid him down on the cot that was still in his office from when he was sick. The man tucked his blanket around him before disappearing for a minute, only to return with a potion in hand. “I am sure you have a headache, sweetheart,” the man said gently. “Why don’t you take this for me and then you can return to sleep?”

Harry eyed the potion for a second before complying, gagging slightly at the taste. His headache immediately improved and he sagged back into the bed, eyes already shut. The man said a few more things but Harry was too far gone to hear them.

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When Harry awoke, it must have been a few hours later, though, it was hard to tell as the dungeons were windowless. He startled slightly into the land of the living and looked around confused, forgetting for a moment where he was and why. Through the open-door connecting Snape’s office and the classroom, he could hear the man’s baritone voice as he provided his students with their instructions for the period.

Harry took his time sitting up, feeling slightly dizzy for a moment before this subsided. A spot of color captured his attention and Harry looked to see what appeared to be the magical version of a child’s sippy cup sitting on the floor next to his cot. Harry turned bright red, embarrassed by the very childish item, much more so than he had with any of the toys he currently owned. He had used something similar, though it had a straw, while he was in hospital. But Snape had never given him such an item to use. Perhaps it was because his dominant hand and wrist were still hurt? Now that he thought about it, it would be harder to hold a heavy glass with his injured hand. The sippy cup had little dragons flying around the sides of it and admittedly, it did look very cool. Thirst got the better of him and he picked it up, bringing it to his lips and chugging. Or at least, trying to chug the water. The little holes in the top insured that he could not drink too much too quickly.

Clutching his drink, he scooped up his stuffed dragon in the other arm before climbing out of bed, body stiff at such a long period of inactivity. He teetered on his feet for a second, the room spinning slightly, before he padded towards his father who was now sitting down at his desk. He stepped close to the man and grabbed a fist full of his cloak, silently asking the man to hold him. Dark eyes looked him over for a second and then he was being lifted into the man’s arms and set down on his lap. Harry sighed softly as he curled into the man’s chest, which caught the attention of the students in the room. Harry tensed slightly as dozens of eyes looked at him being cradled against Snape’s chest, cheeks flushing pink. Whispers spread through the sixth-year class at the sight of his bruised and slightly swollen face and Harry knew that the Hogwarts roomer mill would be working overtime this afternoon.

He closed his eyes and took another drink from his cup, hoping to hide slightly from their prying eyes. Snape must have sensed his unease, as he quietly told the class to focus on their work and steadily started patting his back. In the comfort of Snape’s arms, Harry allowed himself to doze.

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Severus’ reputation was going to be thoroughly in tatters by the end of the day, though in the grand scheme of things, it mattered little. His son had gone from being incredibly withdrawn and distant to seeking out his affection and physical contact in the span of several months and he was not going to jeopardize his progress by pushing him away. The boy seemed content enough in his arms and Snape thought he looked fairly adorable with his stuffed dragon and sippy cup, green eyes half lidded and dark curls in disarray from sleep.

He taught the class from his desk, the older students who have passed their OWLs not requiring him to be as vigilant as the younger years. Eventually the period came to an end and his students were quick to bottle and turn in their potions before clearing their work benches and leaving. Their eyes frequently flickered to look at the small boy dozing in his arms and Severus knew it was only a matter of a few minutes for word of his son’s facial injuries to spread across the castle.

Word had already spread that he had pulled the boy from his classes for the foreseeable future, but only the professors had known why. While he waited for his next class to show up, he took a moment to consider what was going to happen next. The boy would stay with him while he taught for the next several days but he knew that this may not be the long-term solution. Now that he was not attending classes with his peers, it opened up a significant amount of time for the child to have appointments with Mr. Tonks. It would take some time for the child to be comfortable with the man, but Severus thought that trying to set up frequent appointments with the man to occur in his office or rooms while he taught would be a good use of time and beneficial for the child in the long run. He would also reach out to Newt to see if the man would be willing to engage more with the child, who obviously had a liking for animals.

A babysitter would also need to be acquired, but there were very few people he would be able to trust with the job, and they would have to be willing to watch the boy at Hogwarts. Cissa was likely the only person willing and able to do this, though, there were a few seventh years he would consider if need be. He could have the child stay with him for part of the day and then see Ted or Newt could work with the boy for a couple of hours and use Cissa as needed. When people said that it took a village to raise a child, they weren’t joking and Severus was very grateful for the help that their growing little family seemed to accumulate.

Chapter Text

Chapter 30

Word traveled fast across Hogwarts. The student body had known by lunch that Potter Jr had been suspended but by the end of the day they had pieced together why. The realization that a Hufflepuff first year had been physically assaulted had caused significant unrest amongst the students, the fact that it had been the small Harrison Snape had many out for blood. The students knew that Harrison Snape was different. He was much smaller than his peers and seemed almost disconnected from reality at times, rather apathetic to what was happening around him. It was an unspoken rule that the small boy would be off limits, and not just because of who his father is, but because they held little doubt that the child would make no move to protect himself.

He had received a letter just after his last class for the day for an urgent meeting with the Board of Governors for later that evening. It appeared that someone had informed a board member of the incident between Potter and his son. It left him in a bit of a tough spot, however, as the child now needed someone to watch him while he attended. There was no way he was brining his son into the same room that Potter Jr. would be present in.

Thankfully, Cissa had been quick to accept when he asked if she was available to watch the boy in his quarters for a couple of hours this evening. While it was quite soon after the incident for Severus to feel comfortable leaving the boy, this would be a good test run to see how he tolerated being left alone with Cissa.

The child himself was currently curled up on the couch with his head in Severus’ lap as he graded. He clearly still felt somewhat unwell from the concussion, but Severus could tell that he felt better than he did this morning. The boy’s face was almost entirely obscured by his blanket and tufts of curly black hair were most of what Severus could see. The boy had been by his side constantly throughout the day, unwilling to be laid down in a different room. He had taught several of his afternoon classes with the child on his lap or on his hip as he was even unwilling to sit at the desk if Severus was not also occupying it. Severus brushed aside any embarrassment the old him would have felt, wanting to provide his son with reassurance that he was safe and cared for. At least his students feared him enough that there were no comments made. Though the lack of comments was likely also in part due to the boy’s obvious injuries and fussiness when he attempted to set him down.

The floo flared to life and the elegant blonde that was Lady Malfoy stepped out into his quarters. “I hope you don’t mind, Severus,” the woman said after removing her overcoat and setting it on the back of a chair. “I invited Draco to come spend time with us this evening. Hopefully the boys can get to know each other.”

Severus was quick to agree with the plan, glad that the boys would have time together. “I am unsure how long the meeting with the board will go,” he said with slight apprehension, starting the process of extracting himself from the child so that he could leave. “I may not be back until well after dinner.”

“It is no problem, Severus,” Cissa said lightly. “I am available all evening and I am excited to spend time with the boys.”

Severus nodded, standing up fully from the couch and drawing the attention of the child. Stressed green eyes peaked out of his cocoon and Severus ran his hands through his tousled curls, murmuring to the child that he would be back in no time and to behave for his Aunt Cissa. No sooner had he said those words he felt the presence of Draco at the door, the child excitedly bursting into the room after his magic granted the boy entrance. Cissa scolded the boy half heartedly but the boy’s arrival had drawn his son’s complete attention, allowing Severus to slip out of their rooms and head to the meeting, praying that his son handled his absence well.

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Harry was sat at the table, staring down at his tomato bisque and making no move to actually eat it. Draco sat beside him at the small kitchenette, chatting away happily to his mother about his various classes. Harry was happy to sit and allow Draco to chat away as it relieved some of the social pressure off of himself.

Snape had left almost an hour ago and he was growing rather impatient at the man’s absence. He shifted in his seat, eyes frequently darting to look at the door and the floo, hoping that the man would return. Harry knew that he was being exceptionally clingy towards the man, and the 17-year-old in him was constantly cringing at his behavior, but the 11-year-old him was desperate for the man’s attention and kindness.

So caught up in his thoughts was he, that he was caught by surprise when he was lifted from the table and propped against Lady Malfoy’s hip. His cheeks burned red but he was quick to grab fistfuls of her robes and clung tightly to her as he was carried through to the master bedroom. He was laid down on the bed and embarrassment turned to mortification as she stripped him bare. Draco, the ever-present chatter box was right beside them, seeming completely unfased by what was occurring. Before Harry could even think about struggling, he found himself being carried into the bathroom and plopped into the tub. He sat slightly shell shocked in the warm water, bubbles coming up and just covering his umbilicus. Thankfully, the soapy water covered his nudity but he was still flushed with embarrassment at the thought of Draco’s mum bathing him.

The lady herself was kneeling beside the tub, looking over the various vials of soaps that Snape was hoarding. Just as Harry was readying himself to make a break for it, Draco plopped down beside the tub as well, effectively blocking his escape route.

“Here Harrison,” the blond boy said with an enthusiastic smile on his face. “I had mum bring over some of my favorite old toys.” Harry watched hesitantly as the boy produced several magical bath toys. To a child raised twice over in the muggle world, Harry was slightly mesmerized to see the magical toys navigate the water. A magical sailboat was placed in the water in front of him and he could see a small captain standing on the deck and shouting orders at his crew.

It was the magical toy creatures that truly captured his attention. Draco placed a large sea creature, which looked like all the renderings he had seen of the Loch Ness Monster, and it was quick to start harassing the miniature sailors on the boat. Nessie was quickly joined by a toy dragon that flew just above the water’s surface, terrorizing the people on the boat from above.

So engrossed in what was occurring in front of him, Harry paid no mind to Lady Malfoy carefully bathing him. Together, the two boys splashed about. Draco sprouted off encouragements to the sailors, attempting to aid in their survival against the fearsome creatures of the sea and sky. Harry found himself squealing in delight when the dragon blew fake flames at the sailors, causing them to curse and shout more orders at each other. It was a far cry from the relaxing baths that Snape always gave him, attempting to help him wind down and sleep peacefully for the evening, but Harry found that he also enjoyed this version of bath time. Being able to play and be silly in the tub was never a luxury he had experienced before and he was enjoying it fully, even if it was with Draco Malfoy.

All too soon Harry found himself being lifted from the tub and wrapped in a towel. The sudden change reminding him of just who was watching him and his cheeks burned red once more at how childish he was behaving. While Draco scooped up the toys from the bath, Harry found himself once more being laid out on his father’s bed. Lady Malfoy gently dried him off, paying half attention to Draco as the boy exited that bathroom and started speaking excitedly about something else. Harry flushed with embarrassment at his state of undress, but the blonde woman was quick to pull a pair of underwear on him. Harry allowed himself to be distracted by the chatty first year Slytherin as the woman applied his bruise balm to his face, chest, and back. The injuries from the attack would likely be visible for the next day or two but Harry knew they would soon fade, healing expedited by the bruise balm.

Harry’s attention was captured when instead of being dressed in his own pajamas, a large grey knitted sweater was pulled over his head. It clearly belonged to Snape and Harry immediately found himself in love with the item, happy to have a reminder of the man with him even if he was not currently there. Lady Malfoy rolled up the sleeves but before she could turn around to grab a pair of Harry’s pajama pants, the boy was off. He squirmed off of the bed and was padding into the living room after Draco, who was excitedly talking about several other toys he had brought.

Lady Malfoy slipped his splint onto his wrist as he watched Draco pull out a complete set of Quidditch figures. Harry watched in amazement as they one by one became magically animated and started flying through the air, dividing up into two separate teams. Harry watched as Draco orchestrated a match, eventually goading two of the players to get into a fistfight, which had Lady Malfoy halfheartedly scolding him, though Harry could hear the amusement in her voice.

On a whim, Harry rushed back to the bathroom, snatching the green dragon out of the bucket of toys beside the tub and made his way back to the living room. He held the toy out towards Draco, not even having to voice his request as the blond boy clearly understood what he wanted if his grin was anything to go by. Within seconds the dragon was harassing the players, stealing the quaffle and burning one man’s broom. The evening flew by as Harry allowed himself to immerse himself fully into their game.

Chapter Text

Chapter 31

Severus paced back and forth before the members of the Board of Governors. They were sat upon a raised platform at a long oak table, which was curved into a semicircular shape. The headmaster was present, though he was not officially a member of the board. Instead, the headmaster traditionally had his or her own seat and position. Behind the area that Severus paced, Lily, her husband, and their son sat. Lily had obviously groomed the Potter heir as he was in a fine set of robes. James Potter had a pinched look on his face, clearly upset about the proceedings.

“I was approached by two first years who are associates of Mr. Potter,” Severus said, hands behind his back as he came to a stop. “They informed me that my son was in trouble and near the library. When I happened upon the scene I found my son cowering and injured.” Severus turned and looked at the Potter heir, who would not meet his eyes. “Mr. Potter had attacked my son from behind and then proceeded to physically assault him.”

He turned back to the members of the board and waved his hand, sending copies of the magical scans Poppy had taken after the assault to sit in front of each of them. “As you can see, my son sustained significant injuries as a result of this attack. The bruising on his torso is consistent with Mr. Potter’s boots.” Severus couldn’t help but let some of his anger leak into his voice as he spoke about his child’s injuries.

He watched as the wizards and witches in front of him scanned the medical documents in front of them, many of them frowning or murmuring out in surprise at the extent of the bruising. The first year Gryffindor sunk even further down in his seat.

“And what has been done as a result of this attack?” Lucius said, voice falsely calm as he gazed down at the Potter family.

“If I may, members of the board,” Dumbledore said, rising to his feet. “While this incident was shocking, Professor Potter, Professor Snape, and myself have decided to suspend the child for the rest of the week. I do not feel that one incident and a single poor choice should rob the child of his future.” The old man turned to look at Severus, “He is but a boy.”

Severus felt his eye twitch but before he could say anything Lucius had cut in, “Be that as it may Headmaster, we must ascertain if this child poses a risk to his peers. I am not confident that he will not exhibit such unforgiveable behaviors again.” Lucius stared down at the young Potter heir, “Hogwarts is not for delinquents and it has protected bullies for far too long,” at this his eyes turned to stare at the boy’s father, whose frown deepened. “We must ensure that the punishment sinks in,” the blond said, lips curling into a slight sneer.

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Harry and Draco had started to wind down, Harry’s energy clearly starting to wane. The two boys were sat upon the sofa beside each other, the dark-haired boy’s blanket spread across their laps, as Lady Malfoy read some children’s stories to them. Harry leaned into Draco’s side, head pillowed on the other boy’s upper arm, and rubbed his eyes, clearly trying to fight sleep as long as possible.

He hadn’t realized he had started to doze until he felt the wards on their rooms shift and suddenly he was being pulled to his feet. Narcissa was saying something but he struggled to pay attention. Seconds later he was being dragged into his father’s room by the first year Slytherin. The blond-haired boy seemed to look around frantically for a second before pushing Harry towards Snape’s wardrobe. Harry found himself being quickly pushed into the piece of furniture, hidden by his father’s cloaks and kneeling on his work shoes. Anxiety had started to fill him and he struggled to take normal breaths, his chest tightening. Before Draco could climb in with him, shouting could be heard from the living room, causing him to whip around. Instead of climbing in with him, Draco shut the door. Harry watched through a small crack as the child took a deep breath and pulled out his wand. The first year stood between the wardrobe and the door. Several blasts were heard before a deafening silence. The first year Slytherin shook slightly but stood his ground as the door was viciously thrown open.

Harry crouched, frozen, staring in fear as a living nightmare from his past/future stepped into the room. Her curly black hair was just as wild as he remembered it. Her black robes hung around her somewhat emaciated frame. Her somewhat curved walnut wand was held tightly in her right hand as she stepped through the doorway. A manic cackle filled the tense silence. Bellatrix Lestrange hadn’t changed at all.

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Severus stood off to the side as the Potter scion gave a clearly halfhearted apology that he suspected Lily had helped him write. It appeared to be enough for Dumbledore, but Severus knew the members of the board would not be so easily swayed by words. They would want to see for themselves that the boy’s behavior had changed.

In the end it was decided that the boy would finish his suspension. He would also be attending detention as planned for the foreseeable future. The child was essentially on probation. Any further violent or bullying behavior would be severely punished. The boy and his parents did not argue, clearly just thankful that the child was not being expelled.

It was just as they were finishing up that Severus felt his wards alert him to an intruder, causing ice cold fear to fill his chest. He swung around in lightening speed, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.
“Severus?” Lucius asked, worry clear in his voice.

“Someone has broken through the wards on my rooms,” he said, already starting to run. He didn’t stop to see if anyone was hot on his heels as dread continued to fill him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 32

Harry watched, frozen in place with his heart in his throat, as Bellatrix stepped into the room. Draco, his shaking intensifying, stood in between the escaped convict and the wardrobe he was hidden in. The young Slytherin had a death grip on his wand as he raised it to point at his aunt.

“It’s a little baby Lucius!” she cackled happily as she continued to slowly step forward, the heels of her boots loud on the stone floor. “Itty bitty baby Slytherin wants to play?” she asked, her head tilting to one side, making her look even more deranged. Harry wanted to force his body forward, to protect Draco like he knew he should be but he felt like he was frozen in place, stuck kneeling on his father’s work shoes and between his cloaks as one of his worst nightmares stalked further into the room.

“Stay back!” the young blond said, wand hand shaking even more before he sent a weak leg locking curse at the woman, which fizzled out well before making contact.

This seemed to delight the woman, causing her to cackle even more. With a soundless swipe of her wand, she sent the young first year Slytherin flying. As the young Slytherin’s head cracked harshly against the stone wall, Harry burst forth from the wardrobe. He flew towards the woman like a feral cat, moving before she had time to react. Without a wand on him, he resorted to physically attacking her. Harry leapt from the wardrobe, landing on top of the woman. He grabbed fistfuls of her hair and yanked, causing the crazed woman to scream loudly, in pain and in rage. Hands came up to grab him and Harry soon found himself being harshly thrown to the ground; the wind knocked out of him.

He gasped for breath as a dirty black boot flew towards his head. He grunted as it collided with the side of his head, seeing stars for a second before he rolled away. The woman cackled as she followed after him as he continued to roll, winding up underneath the bed. He panted slightly while blinking his eyes, trying to ignore the new head injury. Distantly he heard the yowl of his cat and then a muffled curse before the room was silent once more.

“Itty baby,” Bellatrix sang in her disgustingly fake high-pitched voice. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.” The woman cackled again while stalking forward, clearly toying with him.

Harry frantically looked around him, desperately searching for anything that could possibly be used as a weapon. There wasn’t even a dust bunny under the bed, which really he should have expected given that it was Snape’s room. Helplessness began to fill him and he desperately wished he had his wand on him.

The woman continued to cackle as she moved towards the bed and then around it, coming to a stop just centimeters from his hidden face. The blond Slytherin had yet to make a noise. Harry started to curl into himself, bracing for the woman’s next attack, when he felt something slap into his hand. He caught it on instinct, fingers curling around his blackthorn wand. He didn’t cast any spells, but it didn’t seem that he needed to for the wand seemed to act on a mind of its own. Magic burst forth from the wand, curling around the woman’s legs and causing her to shriek as her legs were burnt. Before Harry could blink the bed had been lifted off of him and thrown against the wall, leaving him exposed. His wand hand was dragged upwards by the eager wand before lightening shot out at the dark-haired woman.

Bellatrix spun into a crouch before jumping out of the way, her magic responding in kind to the threat that Harry now posed. Harry gripped the blackthorn wand with two hands as it continued to spit spells, faster than anything he had cast in his own timeline.

The woman blocked them all with ease now that she was no longer taken by surprise. Unfortunately, Harry’s body in this timeline was not use to casting spells. His magic was not used to being channeled through a focus. The magic of this body was untrained, wild, and explosive. It lacked the discipline and control needed to effectively travel through a wand. He grew tired quickly, magic fizzling out.

The last thing he saw was the bright magic of a stunning spell before the room faded away.

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Severus had never run so fast in his life. He ignored the burning in his legs and lungs as he pushed as hard as he could to reach his quarters before it was too late. In the back of his mind, he registered several pairs of footsteps struggling to keep with his breakneck pace. Unfortunately, the Hogwarts wards made it impossible to apparate and he knew that with his wards tampered with he would be unable to access his rooms via floo. This meant that he would have to run halfway across the castle to the dungeons, a waste of precious time. He just hoped that it wasn’t too late and he dreaded to think about what he would find if it was.

His heart stuttered in his chest as he rounded the last corner before his rooms, finding the portrait that had been guarding his entry way bent at an odd angle on its hinges and smoking. He entered his rooms swiftly, wand drawn, and was quick to see the form of Narcissa crumpled on the ground on the other side of his overturned dining table. Unable to stop to see if she was okay, he continued to move through his rooms, barely daring to breathe.

He entered the master bedroom to find the unconscious form of his godson and his son's cat, which appeared stunned. His eyes locked on the form of his son’s stuffed green dragon, tossed carelessly to the ground beside the overturned bed. His son was nowhere to be seen. Severus’ knees gave out from underneath him. He barely registered the sound of others entering his quarters over the roaring in his ears. His son was gone.

Chapter Text

Chapter 33

Severus sat with his head in his hands. It had been 24 hours since his son had been taken from their room. 24 hours since Bellatrix had somehow bypassed the castle wards and forced her way into his quarters. It had been 24 hours and they had no leads. No clear trail had been left behind that they could follow to find where his son had been taken. Once more, Severus felt like a complete failure of a father. He had failed to protect his son from a monster and now he was unsure if he would ever see his little boy again.

Severus’ self-deprecating thoughts continued as the voices of Lucius and Cissa drifted over him. He was sat in a chair in Malfoy Manor. He had put in a leave of absence at work and was currently staying with them in the manor. He was grateful to not have to face the emptiness of his quarters now that a certain 11-year-old boy was no longer there. Having to be there while the Aurors searched had been terrible enough. To see his son’s possessions every minute that he had been gone would be too much. Staying at the manor was the best option by far, allowing him and the Malfoys to be in close contact to try and find his son. Luckily, Narcissa had sustained injuries that were easily healed with magic and time. Her broken ankle was quickly reset and the burns healed with a readily available burn paste. The concussion she had sustained would likely cause her to be symptomatic for the next few days but overall, her injuries had been minor. Draco had been more distraught than anything else. His head injury was minor and he was set to return to classes tomorrow. The little snake had shown amazing bravery but it was clear that he was slightly traumatized by the attack and kidnapping.

“There must be someplace Bella would have taken the boy,” the stressed voice of Lucius drew Severus’ attention. “Surely there is a place she feels safe enough to hide him away in.”

“All of my sister’s assets were seized when she was arrested,” Cissa responded in a grim voice. “Every last Lestrange property has been seized, as well, given that the last two remaining members have been arrested and sentenced to life in prison.”

“Surely there must be something. Is it possible that she has hidden the boy away in a rarely used Black property?” Lucius questioned, pacing back and forth in front of his wife who was sitting while nursing a steaming cup of tea, attempting to calm her nerves.

“As the current Lord Black, Sirius would have been notified immediately of her presence in any of the Black residences,” she responded. Lucius of course knew this but still had to ask, desperately trying to find anything that may lead them to his missing nephew. It had been 24 hours and they still had next to nothing that would help them in their search. The three adults looked at each other helplessly, despair heavy in the room. They knew that they were running out of time to recover the child at all.

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Harry woke up in an empty room on an aged wood floor. His body was sore from being stunned for so long and his head hurt something terrible. Clearly, suffering from two head injuries in such a short period of time was less than ideal. Every movement of his head caused a wave of nausea to roll through him. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying not to vomit. He knew it would take several hours before the nausea subsided and he had enough strength to attempt an escape.

Several minutes later he was able to open his eyes and survey his surroundings. He really was in a bare room. A single door was opposite him and a single window on the wall he laid against. The only other object in the room was a dusty wardrobe. There was no bed and with one door Harry very much doubted there was a bathroom.

Harry laid still, wanting to listen carefully for any noises within the house and also not wanting to alert his captor of his return to consciousness. All seemed quiet and no amount of straining provided him with any further information.

So, Harry turned his attention inward. Besides being sore and the new head injury, he did not feel that anything was broken. He wiggled his toes, then ankles, then knees. Little by little he moved up his body, making sure everything was okay. He was still only wearing his dad’s sweater, which wasn’t ideal but it could be worse. The room was chilly and he had no pants on but at least he wasn’t naked and the sweater was warm. He curled up, bringing his knees to his chest while laying on his side so that he could pull the sweater over his bare legs. In the silence of the room, he watched the door, waiting for the devil herself to eventually barge in.

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Far away, in the library of the old Black ancestral home, Andromeda Black was furiously searching through a mountain of dusty tomes, desperately searching for anything that would provide them with another lead in their fight against the Dark Lord.

Chapter Text

Chapter 34

A bang roused Harry from the uneasy sleep he had fallen into. He cringed back against the wall behind him as a cloaked figure stepped into the room he was being kept in. He didn’t need to see their face to know who it was. Bellatrix Lestrange stalked forward, her black heels loud against the wooden floor. Harry curled into himself even further, his lack of wand causing icy fear and hopelessness to surge through him.

He must have spaced out for a second because the next thing he knew he was being wrenched into a seated position by his hair. The woman’s long nails bit into his scalp but he refrained from crying out, determined to stay silent. The woman’s lips were moving and Harry attempted to focus on what she was saying, “-miss your mama, Hydrus?”

Harry frowned, not understanding what the crazy witch was saying. She shook him by his hair before tossing him back to the floor. He was able to catch himself with his outstretched hands, his injured wrist screaming from within the confines of the brace that remined on it, but at least he did not sustain another head injury.

A man in the doorway seemed to pause Bellatrix in whatever she was going to do to him next. “Bella,” the man said in a voice that sent terror down Harry’s spine. “Our Lord is requesting you,” the voice of Barty Crouch Jr. sent Harry spiraling. The room tipped sideways as Harry became dizzy and slumped down onto his side where he curled into himself. “Your reintroduction with your brat can wait,” the man said before turning away.

Harry’s mind desperately attempted to make sense of the man’s words. They definitely had something to do with his presence here and kidnapping from Hogwarts. Overshadowing this, however, was the growing horror in his gut at the words ‘Our Lord’. There was only one man that Crouch could be referencing. Harry had to admit that he had paid very little attention to his surroundings since awaking in this world. He had only just started thinking about the war with Voldemort when he was attacked by this world’s Harry Potter. He wracked his brain, attempting to remember if he had seen Professor Quirrell during the last several months he had been at school. With growing horror, he realized that he had not.

This world differed significantly from his own and any hope that he would have the ability to end the war early using his prior knowledge was snuffed out. He shivered in the empty room as he was once again left on his own, his mind racing. If Crouch was here and he had not seen Quirrell at school, it was reasonable to assume that he was in a house with the weakened Dark Lord. And not just Voldemort but also two of his most loyal sycophants.

A rock settled in his stomach and any remaining hope that he may see his dad again started to dwindle.

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Severus paced Lucius’ office. The man himself was seated behind his desk and his wife stood behind him, her hand resting delicately on his shoulder as she spoke quietly into his ear. It had been almost 45 minutes since they had received a patronus from Andy telling them that she had an important lead and would meet them at Malfoy Manor. Severus’ eyes flicked to the large grandfather clock once more, impatient for the woman to appear.

It had been three days since his son had been stolen from him and he knew that their time to find him alive was running short. Severus knew that Bellatrix would not treat him gently, even if he was biologically her son. She was even less likely to treat him well after she inevitably noticed his poor mental state and health. She would not take kindly to any perceived weakness and if she felt that the child was not useful in some way, Severus could see her causing significant bodily harm to the child, or worse.

Before his dark thoughts could spiral further, a flare of green fire from the floo distracted him. Andromeda Tonks stepped into the room and then stepped aside as the floo flared again. Severus had his wand drawn in an instant as Sirius Black stepped uninvited into Lucius’ study. His childhood bully raised his hands in the air, his stormy grey eyes locked on his own.

“I think I have found something that will help us track Bella,” Andy said as she spread a scroll out on the large oak desk. Severus kept Sirius in his line of sight as he stepped forward to peer down at the parchment. In front of him was a detailed ritual, relying on shared blood to track someone. Hope flared in his chest. This might actually work.

“Why is Black here?” he couldn’t help but sneer at the man who had tormented him during their school years.

Grey eyes continued to gaze at him. “The Black family has been fractured long enough,” the man said in a steely voice. “If your son is to be saved, we will need to present a united front and stand together. Cousin Bella cannot be underestimated.”

Severus continued to glare at the man even as his heart recognized that they would need as much help as they could breaching whatever fortress Bellatrix had hidden his son away in. He turned his gaze to Andy, “What do we need to do?”

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Harry was unsure how much time had passed. There was a window in the room he was in, but he had quickly retreated to the empty wardrobe after his encounter with Bellatrix and Crouch. He had shut the door soundlessly behind him and curled into a small ball, taking solace in the much smaller space. His head was feeling slightly better and some of the magical exhaustion had started to wear off. He was still weak, however, as he had yet to be provided with anything to eat or drink. Harry worried more about dehydration than anything, as he knew that even though he was still very skinny, he was able to go at least a week without eating. Going without food for a long period of time was something he had experienced in both lives but the body could only go so long without water. He only hoped that he found a way to escape the warded room or his dad appeared soon, as he was unsure of how long he would be able to hold on.

Chapter Text

Severus paced back and forth as the Black sisters prepared the ritual, writing on the floor with their blood. Lucius stood off to the side, carefully watching his wife for any sign of exhaustion or stress. Sirius Black sat lounging on a settee, somehow exhibiting little of the tension that permeated the room.

Needing to do something, Severus turned to stare out the window. Snow fell hard in the dark of night and the wind blew at a harsh angle. Wherever he was, he just hoped his little boy was warm.

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The wardrobe being thrown open shocked Harry into awareness. Terrified green eyes flew open and he automatically cringed into the hard wood of the back of the wardrobe as the entrance was obscured by a decidedly male figure. For a moment he was grateful that it wasn’t Bellatrix but those feelings were quickly dashed aside as he recognized the looming figure of Barty Crouch Jr.

Against his will his mind immediately went to his past life, when he was similarly cornered by this man and a small whimper escaped him. A callused hand reached into the wardrobe and grasped the dark grey sweater he wore and Harry was easily pulled from his hiding place.

Harry blinked against the light of the room; his eyes used to the complete darkness of the wardrobe. His eyes immediately flashed to the open door, but he could see the light red sheen of the wards still in place, keeping him in his prison.

The man shook him by the front of the sweater and Harry realized he was saying something. Harry struggled to pay attention, his head pounding and his ears ringing from the head injuries he had sustained in the last several days. Not for the first time, he cursed the Harry Potter of this world for being such an arse.

A harsh slap to his face when he failed to respond to presumably a question posed to him caused him to see stars. Panic started to fill him as the severity of the situation he was in settled in. He was at the mercy of one of Voldemort’s most loyal followers. A man who had tortured the Frank and Alice Longbottom’s of his world into insanity. A wandless, dehydrated, and starving first year Hufflepuff, previous war hero or not, was essentially defenseless against him.

The man shook him again when he continued to fail to respond. But Harry would not have been able to respond to the man if he wanted to, as the fear and stress of the situation cut off his voice, his throat seemingly closing up on him. His bare legs scraped against the floor as the Death Eater manhandled him for a second before he was airborne, the man easily throwing him into the back wall.

His fear increased as the man towered over him in the empty room. “You broken brat?” the man laughed at him. Harry stared up at the man as the icy tendrils of fear clawed up his chest and into his throat, making the room blur and his body shake. Before his mind could catch up with his actions, he jumped the man like he had Bellatrix in Snape’s rooms at Hogwarts. Small, dirty fingernails tore through the man’s face as he yelled out in surprise. Not holding back, Harry bit into the man’s neck, easily tearing through the man’s skin. The man stumbled for a second before Harry was thrown back against the wall, sliding down to the hardwood floor.

He was halfway to jumping the man again when his entire existence dissolved into pain. Every cell in his body screaming, his entire mind consumed in the moment by the feeling. His nerve endings lit on fire as a familiar curse was cast on him. He writhed on the floor as he was held under the cruciatus curse.

The pain continued until he felt something snap in his chest. It felt almost like someone had kicked in his sternum. Suddenly there was an explosion, his magic finally coming to his defense. The man stumbled backwards as his angry magic, appearing like a swarm of angry wasps, descended on him. Crouch’s shout of surprise quickly turned to pain as Harry’s magic tore into him.

The man slashed his wand through the air, attempting to disperse the angry accidental magic protecting his target. Harry huddled against the wall, knees to his chest as the magic continued to leak from him. The man shot off a dark purple spell at him, causing Harry’s angry magic to respond in kind. Crouch was thrown backwards by a blast of pure magic, crashing headfirst into the wall before slumping to the ground, where he stayed. Harry watched in disbelief as blood slowly started to leak from his ears.
He sagged slightly as his magical drain started to hit him. His eyes turned to the door and disappointment flooded him as he realized that the wards still appeared to be in place. Frantically, he cast his eyes around, eventually turning to the window directly above him, knowing that if he did not get out soon he would likely be killed for harming his assailant.

His breath stuttered in his throat as he saw the broken window above him. His magic had not only broken through the dirty and dusty glass, but had blasted through whatever protections had been in place to keep him in. He pushed off of the ground, broken glass piercing the soft skin of his hands, and stumbled to his feet. He looked out of the window into the night. Cold air touched his face and filled his lungs, a stark contrast to the stuffy wardrobe he had resided in for the last couple of days. He looked down at the rosebushes below, his mind already made up without having to look at the bleeding man across from him.

With a silent prayer that he would live to see his dad, Harry jumped.

Chapter Text

Chapter 36

Harry was not unused to the sensation of falling. He had fallen from his broom a couple of times, the worst being in third year when dementors invaded the pitch. He was also well aquatinted with the pain caused by falling down a set of stairs, or rather being pushed down a set of stairs by his cousin. This was different. His freedom jump from the second story window came to a harsh stop in the thorns of the rose bushes below. He stifled his cries of pain as the branches and thorns pierced his skin. The bushes marginally slowed his fall before he hit the ground, his right ankle rolling and snapping beneath him as he landed feet first.

Gasping quietly in pain, Harry rolled to a stop in the snow covering the ground. He laid there for a second, panting, as pain lanced up his leg from his clearly broken ankle. It drowned out all of his smaller injuries, but Harry knew he looked a right mess.
Unfortunately, he was unable to stay still for long. He knew Crouch would wake up or they would notice that he was missing from the room soon. With these thoughts, Harry pushed himself to his feet, attempting to hobble through the snow with his injured ankle. At least the snow acted as an ice pack, but he cursed himself for his state of undress. There was a line of trees up ahead. He hoped he didn’t freeze before he made it to safety.

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They had a location. The ritual had worked and they were led to just outside the wards of an old manor. The windows were all dark and no significant movement from within could be seen from where they all stood, coming up with a game plan while Lucius and Sirius Black took a close look at the wards, attempting to find a weak spot that they could breach.

Someone running from the manor as if the hounds of hell were on their tail drew their attention quickly. The man obviously did not see them, as he tripped over his feet in his rush to escape the mansion. He crossed the wards and just before he could flee Severus had shot ropes at him, easily binding him in place and causing him to drop. The man cursed and thrashed within his bindings before he quickly started to beg to be released. They surrounded the man, Sirius turning the man over so that they could see his face. Cissa and Andy gasped as the pale face of Bartimus Crouch Sr. looked up at them.

“Please,” gasped the man. “Please. I have done a horrible thing.” The man’s eyes were wild, frantically looking around.

“What have you done Barty?” Lucius drawled, his wand tightly held in his hand and pointing at the crazed Ministry official.

“She begged that I save him,” the man cried. “Twas her dying wish to see the boy out of that hell.” Severus stared confusedly at the man, not understanding where this was going and impatient to find his son. “She begged to take his place. I did what she asked and I had kept the boy here. I spelled him to stay put but he escaped. I have been under the Imperius curse for who knows how long!”

Severus’ grip on his wand tightened until his knuckles turned white. “Who?” Lucius demanded.

“My son!” the man cried out, scaring a raven from a nearby tree. “My only son! I snuck him out of Azkaban and my late wife took his place!”

Finally connecting the dots, dread filled Severus as he began to realized just who his son may be sharing a house with. Bartimus Crouch Jr. was a man who had committed some of the most heinous crimes during the war. Severus had been surprised that he had not received the dementor’s kiss for his actions.

“You will enact your power as lord of your house and drop the wards,” Severus hissed, his wand stabbing into the man’s throat. “If you do not, I will gut you here and allow the birds to have you.”

The man thrashed further in his bindings at the threat, tears rolling down his face. “Please!” the man attempted to plead. “Please, you must let me go! They will kill me!”

“You fool,” Severus growled harshly, his wand now drawing a drop of blood from the man’s neck due to the force it was being shoved into the man. “If you do not do as I demand, I will kill you. Except, I will show even less mercy. Did you know that muggles can harvest organs from people while they are still alive? How about I slice you open and make you watch as I cut out your organs one by one?”

The man started to blubber, tears and snot covering his face as he frantically thrashed in his bindings. Despite this, they felt and saw the wards drop. Lucius stunned the man before they turned as one towards the manor.

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Harry had made it to the forest. He had fallen multiple times, tweaking his injured ankle, which was thankfully numbed by the snow. After entering the tree line, he had fallen one last time. Without the strength to stand back up, Harry had crawled on his hands and knees, focusing on putting one hand in front of the other and kept moving, even as his body demanded that he stop to rest. Exhaustion wore on him and he could no longer feel his hands or lower legs as they drug through the snow. Still, he persisted as long as he could, needing to get as far away from the manor as he could.

Eventually, he could go on no longer and he fell to the ground, rolling over so that he could look up into the canopy. Panting, he could see his breath in the frozen air in front of him. Snow continued to fall, covering him in a light dusting.
Harry knew the signs of hypothermia. He had looked them up after being locked outside one cold evening at the Dursley’s. Where Harry had initially been shivering and his teeth chattering from the cold, he was now left with a false sense of warmth. He no longer shivered. His mind slowed and all he wanted to do was sleep. His last conscious thought was of Snape, praying that the man would find his body and be able to move on with his life.

Chapter Text

Chapter 37

The crack of an apparition made the group collectively whip their heads around. Bellatrix was striding quickly towards the manor, causing Severus to grip his wand even more tightly as anger coursed through him at the sight of her.

He made eye contact with Lucius as the man stood with a calming hand on his wife’s shoulder. No words needed to be exchanged as he easily projected his thoughts into his friend’s mind, his friend easily recognizing what he intended and opening his mind to him. He quickly projected his idea to the man and the blond nodded silently before aiding him in putting up anti-apparition wards, ensuring that Bellatrix would be unable to easily flee from the building with the boy.

Once the wards were up, the group moved on magically silenced feet. As one, they blew the front door to the manor off of its hinges. Severus quickly threw up a shield as a nasty bone breaking curse was thrown at them, casting a purple hue to light the dark hallway. As the group moved on the defensive, the witch throwing all manner of curses at them, she shrieked, “Barty! The wards you fool! They have fallen!”

Severus braced himself for Barty Crouch Jr. to enter the fray, but the man never showed. Despite this, the witch never faltered. She continued her ruthless assault, but she was no match for their combined force. And Severus was angry. He allowed his hatred to power his spells. The walls surrounding them were quickly destroyed by spellfire as they advanced into the house, pushing the woman backwards.

Just as they pushed into the parlor, a massive snake lunged out of nowhere, striking Sirius in the shoulder, drawing a shout from the man as its fangs sank into flesh. Terror gripped Severus as he recognized the beast as the Dark Lord’s snake. Sirius stayed on his feet despite his injury and he and Andy immediately diverted their focus into destroying the beast, who’s scales were somehow magically resistant.

“Oh Severus,” the insane woman cackled as she danced just out of reach from the cutting curse he sent at her. “What a way to greet the mother of your child.” Severus sent a bone breaking curse, just missing as the woman once again stepped out of the way.
“Where is the boy?” he hissed, furry clear as he sent a silent blasting curse at the woman, causing the tile under her feet to explode.

He was momentarily distracted as Lucius sent magical flames at the magical snake, which had gained the upper hand on Sirius and Andy. His momentary distraction allowed an opening for the woman to throw a nasty cutting curse, which would have hit him in the neck had Cissa not blocked it at the last minute.

The curse he was going to throw in retaliation died in his throat as an inhumane shriek filled the air around them and a black magical mass rose to the ceiling, seemingly twisting in on itself in agony before disappointing completely. He dodged a bright green killing curse at the last second as Bellatrix howled in anger at the loss of the Dark Lord’s beast.

But her scream was not the only to wrench the air. A high-pitched yell of pure anger had Severus and Lucius gripping their marked forearms and terror anew washed through Severus unlike anything he had ever experienced before. The unmarked members of their goop focused their efforts on Bella, and she was quickly cornered.

“Bella,” a voice hissed from the other side of a tall, wing backed chair. The woman was doing her best to block the mirage of spells being thrown at her while inching towards the source of the voice, the voice that everyone instinctively knew belonged to the supposedly vanquished Dark Lord. “We must retreat. I am not strong enough.”

Just as the Azkaban escapee made to lung towards the chair that most definitely supported her master, Severus sent the strongest cutting hex of his life. The woman’s body and head fell. Separately.

The silence was broken by their heavy breathing. Together, Lucius, Severus, and Sirius formed a half circle around the backside of the chair, wands gripped by pale hands. Severus motioned for Andy and Cissa to find the boy and they were quick to leave the room as Lucius magically turned the chair to face them.

The sight that met them was one of nightmares. A small, deformed body was propped up in the chair. Red scales covered the visible portion of its face and red, reptilian eyes stared out at them. “So, this is what my most faithful have become?” the being said in a hoarse voice. “Traitors to the cause? Lord Voldemort is not known for his forgiveness.”

“Well good for me,” quipped Sirius. “I never bought into your bullshit to begin with.” With that the man sent a jet of blue fire at the vulnerable and weakened form of the Dark Lord. A screamed wrenched the air as the creature was unable to protect itself from the magical flames. From the flames rose a ghastly apparition, similar in appearance to what had come from the Snake. Before it could disappear, Lucius threw a containment spell at it, forcing it to condense into a ball of black magic.

“Severus,” the blond man said. “Find your son. Black and I will contain the Dark Lord, this main piece of his soul may be useful in tracking down any other wayward parts. The Ministry need not be made aware of his presence here today.” Black opened his mouth as if to argue but a look from the blond quickly silenced him.

And then Severus was running from the room. He cast his magic out, easily sensing that the boy was not on the first floor. He took to stairs two at a time and came to a quick stop at an open door. The room would have been empty save for the body crumpled next to the door and the two women inside. Andy knelt next to the form of Barty Crouch Jr., her wand spinning in her hand for a second before she stood. “Dead,” she announced. “Crouch is dead, seemingly from blunt force trauma to the head.”

“The boy?” he gasped. Only to be met with silence and the anxious stares of the two women in front of him.

“He’s not here, Severus.” Cissa said in a quiet voice, causing Severus’ legs to buckle. With that she turned towards the window, causing Severus to follow his gaze through the broken glass and into the dark night sky outside.

Chapter Text

Chapter 38

Few times in Severus’ life had he felt the fear that was currently coursing through him. He had been afraid when he had discovered he had a son. He had been afraid when he saw how damaged his child was. He had been fearful that he was never going to be enough for the boy. He had been terrified during the incident with the troll. The fear he had felt when he discovered his child was missing from his rooms and how he felt now were hopefully something he never experienced again. Terror gripped him and his lungs didn’t want to work properly as he rushed away from the house, knowing that the small first year must have jumped from the window and made his way into the surrounding forest.

He magicked the snow out of his way, as the knee-deep snow made his progress much slower. Behind him, he could hear Andy and Cissa following. As he moved, he desperately cast his magic out in front of him, frantically trying to locate his son. There were no tracks in the snow left behind, proof that his child had likely been outside in the cold for a while.

As he moved further into the forest, he started calling for the child, understanding that the small boy may have hunkered down to hide against the winter storm. Panting breaths notified him that Andy and Cissa had caught up with him.

“Should we spread out?” Cissa asked, blue eyes flickering around the dark forest even as she stepped closer to Severus.

“Not yet,” responded Andy. “I suspect we will find him soon.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth did Cissa spot a small patch of dark curly hair. At her shout, Severus started sprinting towards the child, falling to his knees besides the boy. The child was covered in snow. His hair stuck out of the snow but was still covered in a light dusting. Small blue fingers were the only other visible portion of the boy.

Heart in his throat, he vanished the snow covering the boy as Andy dropped down beside him, her wand spinning in her hand. The boy was unconscious and still only dressed in Severus’ grey knit sweater. His legs were bare and the child was covered in scratches from the rose bush he had clearly fallen into. His right ankle was clearly broken but he had no other obvious signs of trauma.

“We have to get him out of here,” Severus said, reaching for the child. He was stopped, however, by the healer beside him.

“The child is severely hypothermic, Severus,” she said briskly as she magically enlarged a medical bag she had pulled from her robes. “Moving him in this state could cause his heart to go into an abnormal rhythm and potential cardiac arrest. We must first initiate rewarming.”

Severus felt completely helpless as the woman set to work, casting a specialized warming charm on the child that would gently raise his temperature into a normal range. Her words had caused terror anew in his chest as he realized that his child was still very much in danger of death.

Focusing on the child, he allowed Andy to assess the boy and make any medical decisions. He gripped one of his child’s ice cold and blue hands while his other hand ran through the child’s damp locks, whispering softly to him. “It’s going to be okay, sweet boy,” he said with a lump in his throat. “We are going to get you warmed up and to a safe place. No one will hurt you again, I promise.” Not for the first time, guilt was threatening to swallow him. How had he allowed this to happen?

“He’s got a broken ankle,” Andy said, as she magically splinted the limb, wanting to stabilize it for transport to St. Mungo’s. “He has no further injuries that need immediately addressed prior to moving him. Once his temperature has increased into a safe range, we will get him on a stretcher and use my portkey to take him to the hospital.”

The lump in his throat did not allow him to respond as Severus pressed a quivering kiss to the child’s cold forehead. Silently, he once again promised the child that he was going to do better at protecting him, no matter the cost.

Beside them the blue form of a familiar fox patronus, belonging to one Lucius Malfoy, materialized beside them. “The Aurors have been called. They are securing the scene for investigation. His presence will remain a secret while we determine what to do next. If you have found the boy, I recommend getting him to St. Mungo’s before Severus is held for questioning.” The fox faded from existence and silence hung heavy in the air.

Looking at the healer, Severus asked, “Is the child safe to transport?”

The woman renewed the spell monitoring his vitals before nodding and magicking the small first year onto a magical stretcher, which hovered in the air. “The stretcher is the portkey,” the women said as she turned to look at her sister. “Cissa, you may come with or stay here but Severus and I need to leave now.”

The blonde woman took a step back, wanting to reunite with her husband, but she bid them farewell with a solemn nod.

“Okay, Severus,” the dark-haired witch said softly. “Three…two…one.”

And then they were gone, snow still softly falling in the dark and quiet forest.

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Lucius Malfoy stared down at the small photo laying on an old writing desk in the room Bella had clearly been sleeping in. The Aurors were still downstairs and he had stepped away for a second. His wife had been questioned and had returned to their home. Before leaving, Lucius wanted to look for any information the woman may have had on the child. It had not been long before he had stumbled on an old photograph that had caused him to pause. A newborn baby with a shock of dark hair slept peacefully in the photo. Written underneath in Bella’s signature, looping handwriting was a name that he would have expected of a child of the Ancient and Noble House of Black.

Hydrus Polaris Black.

Chapter Text

Chapter 39

Severus sat at his son’s bedside with his head in his hands. It had been a couple of hours since the healers and St. Mungo’s staff left them alone. It had been half an hour since the Aurors finally left after taking his statement. Finally, he was alone with his child. The child that he could not help but feel that he had completely failed to protect. His hand moved to carefully clutch his son’s still fingers as he cast his mind back to the last few hours.

Their arrival to St. Mungo’s had been a whirlwind of activity. Severus had refused to be separated from his son, almost shoving a nurse who had attempted to steer him aside. Andromeda had quickly given the head healer her assessment but as she was now known to be the boy’s maternal aunt, she would no longer be overseeing all of his care, a fact that disappointed Severus significantly.

Severus had paced the side of the room for seemingly forever but he knew their initial assessment likely only lasted for 20 minutes. After that it had been a hustle of commotion as the healer made orders to staff, who rushed to fill them. Then the man had approached him. The healer was a muscular man with carefully styled blond hair, Healer Goldstein he had introduced himself as.

“You are the lad’s father?” the healer questioned, eyes staring directly into Severus’.

“Yes, sir. Is the boy going to be okay?” he asked desperately.

“The child will live,” at these words Severus had almost sagged in relief. “However,” the man continued. “He will have a long road to recovery ahead of him. The child not only has his physical injuries to contend with, but he is also suffering from significant magical exhaustion.” Severus had nodded, knowing from what he had seen at the house to know his son’s magic had likely protected himself against Barty.

“Unfortunately, this level of magical exhaustion will greatly prolong any healing process. As you very well know, potions work in conjunction with an individual’s magic to heal them. When one’s magic is this low, potions and spells are not as effective. His broken ankle will be reset, but I recommend that he be splinted and non-weight bearing for a couple of weeks.”

Seeing Severus nod, the man continued, “Now, the child is also suffering from malnutrition and severe dehydration. We are providing fluid resuscitation with hydration potions and also continuing his prescribed nutrition potions. Most concerning, however, is the signs of spell damage.”

The breath was knocked out of Severus for a second, “Spell damage?” he asked in a strained voice.

The healer nodded solemnly for a second. “I am sorry, Professor Snape,” the blond man said in a compassionate voice. “The boy shows signs of Cruciatus exposure.”

Severus’ legs had buckled and he would have fallen to the ground had the familiar arms of Lucius Malfoy not caught him. He had not even noticed his old friend’s arrival. The healer’s words echoed in his mind and his vision tunneled slightly.

“As you are aware,” the man said after a minute of strained silence. “We will not be sure as to the extent of the damage done by the curse until the child awakens. We will be monitoring him very closely but the long-term effects of Cruciatus exposure in young children is not well understood.”

Lucius had all but carried Severus to a chair beside the boy’s bed and Severus collapsed into it, barely breathing as devastation coursed through him.

He watched numbly as the man quietly reset his son’s broken ankle and a splint was placed. Several more monitoring spells were performed and then the healer murmured a few parting words before leaving Severus and Lucius alone with the child. A manicured hand gripped Severus’ shoulder tightly, providing support for arguably one of the most difficult moments of Severus’ life.

“He will be okay, Severus.” The man said, his voice betraying none of the fear Severus himself felt. “The boy will awaken and we will deal with whatever may come.”

His blond friend had quickly and quietly given him a rundown of what had occurred after he had left in search of his son. He and Sirius Black had managed to trap the spirit of the Dark Lord, who was currently being held within a magical containment box within a secured but empty Black property. No one who was not specifically added to the wards could enter. Apparently, Lucius had sworn an oath to Black that they would not be attempting to resurrect the man, and instead were attempting to go about bringing his final destruction.

A lot of this information, however, simply went in one ear and out the other. Lucius had soon left to check on his wife who had already returned home. It was not soon after that the Aurors had arrived and questioned him about his interaction with Bellatrix, confirming that he had killed her, she had been the one to kidnap the boy, and that he was her biological son. Severus was not shocked to hear that they had quickly dismissed any idea about charging him with murder. In the eyes of the Ministry, she was a wanted criminal and he had custody of the child that she had forcefully kidnapped, even if she was technically the boy’s mother.

Still, Severus was glad to see the Aurors leave. In the silence left behind, Severus focused on his son’s quiet breathing and the rise and fall of his small chest. He ran long fingers through the child’s hair, detangling it gently and vowing to give the boy a bath as soon as possible. Quivering lips pressed silent kisses to the child’s brow and knuckles. In the silence of the room, he also vowed to do everything in his power to never allow his son to come to such harm ever again, even if it meant hiding the child away from the world. No, he would not allow any further harm to befall his son. No matter what.

Chapter Text

Chapter 40

The days that followed were almost as stressful for Severus as the days that his child had been missing. The boy had yet to wake since being brought to the hospital two days prior. The healers assured him that the boy was exhausted and allowing him to sleep was an important part of the healing process. Still, Severus worried endlessly about the still child in the bed. He worried about how the child would react when he woke up. He worried about the long-term side effects of the stress and Cruciatus exposure the child has suffered. Severus worried endlessly that they had taken a massive step back in the child’s progress and ability to trust him. He was not a religious man, but he prayed that the child was able to move on from this experience and he vowed to provide the small child with the care and attention that he would need to do so.

Severus knew that he was being clingy. He had not left the child’s side since his rescue. He knew he looked like an absolute mess, as his self-care had also suffered while the child was missing. He spent each hour either sitting at the child’s bedside or carefully cradling the small boy, attempting to offer comfort even with the child in an unconscious state. Severus ignored the fact that holding the boy also offered a significant amount of comfort to himself.

He was holding the boy now. Even in sleep, the child’s forehead crinkled into a worried expression. This cleared as long as he was being held. Someone had fetched or transfigured a rocking chair, which Severus found himself occupying a lot in the past two days. He cradled the small form to his chest and rocked the boy, who was gently swaddled in his blue blanket. Severus took comfort in the fact that the charms imbued in blanket would keep the boy comfortably warm. For hours at a time, he rocked the boy back and forth, ignoring his own needs to instead provide this small comfort he knew he could provide the boy, even in his sleep.

A soft knock sounded at the door, which Severus ignored, assuming it to be a nurse coming to check on the child. The door cracked open behind him, but it was not a member of hospital staff who spoke. “Severus,” the smooth voice of Lucius said softly, the sound of his cane on the stone floor the only indication of the man advancing on the pair before Severus felt a hand on his shoulder. Still, Severus did not take his eyes off of the bundle in his arms. “Severus,” the man said again, his voice slightly stronger. “You cannot go on like this much longer.” Severus ignored the man, continuing to rock back and forth. The blond man sighed before sitting delicately on the edge of the vacant hospital bed. “They believe that the boy will start to wake in the next day or so. You need to be rested for this, my friend.” Severus raised his exhausted eyes to meet the crystal blue irises of his oldest friend. “You could also do with a shower and change of clothes,” the man said, giving Severus a quick once over.

“I cannot leave the child alone,” Severus said, his hands gripping the boy’s form slightly harder. “He nee-“

“He needs his father to take care of himself so that he can continue to care for him,” the blond man said sternly. Severus, sagged forward in defeat, his torso coming over to shadow the small child. “I will stay with the child,” the man continued. “Go back to the Manor. Bathe, change your clothes, and eat something. Rest if you can but you are not doing yourself or the boy any favors by neglecting yourself so.”

Severus knew that his friend was correct, but the thought of leaving the boy for even a second made his heart race and ice-cold fear to claw his chest. “Severus,” the man said softly, causing Severus to again focus on his friend’s eyes. “I swear on my magic that I will protect the boy with my life in your absence.”

His eyes shut, blocking out the expression in his friend’s blue eyes. Silently, he leaned down and pressed a kiss against the child’s brow, murmuring promises of his return to the slumbering boy. He looked back up at his friend, “The boy sleeps better when held.”

The blond held his arms out in silent reply. Standing, Severus motioned for the blond to sit in the rocking chair before offering him the boy. “Come here, Little Prince,” the man said softly, tucking the still child against his chest and resuming the soft rocking motion Severus had performed almost continuously for the last 48 hours. Severus stared at them silently for a moment before steeling himself and moving towards the door, a soft thank you hanging in the air behind him.

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Harry woke in stages. He floated in and out of consciousness, at times becoming slightly aware of his surroundings. He assumed he was on some sort of potion for pain, as his body and mind felt adrift and cloudy. In his moments of awareness, he attempted to take in what he could by his surroundings. He gathered that he was in a hospital due to the sterile smell. He was warm and at times felt like he was being held. The familiar scent of his dad provided a comfort he did not know he needed and he was always quick to drop back to sleep.

This time was different. He could still feel arms around him and his blanket carefully tucked around him, but the arms were different. Instead of the soft scent of herbs his nose was assaulted with what was likely an expensive cologne. The differences were small, but they were enough to drag him from the exhaustion and potion-induced sleep he had been in. Green eyes fluttered open slightly to see long blond hair. He followed the hair up to gaze at the face of a man whom he had hated in his previous life. “Why hello, Little Prince,” the man said in a very soft voice, so unlike anything Harry had ever expected to hear from his lips. “Your father has stepped out to bathe. The silly man’s scent was enough to insult a pig.”

In his previous world, waking to the face of Lucius Malfoy would have been enough to send him spiraling. But this Lucius was different. He relaxed into the man’s strong arms and focused on the sensation of being rocked, ear finding the man’s heart beat as his eyes fluttered shut again.

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Not long after the boy drifted back to sleep, Lucius’ lovely wife stepped soundlessly into the room, a bouquet of flowers from their gardens in her hands. “Severus will be here soon,” she said softly as she conjured a crystal vase, setting the flowers down on the child’s bedside table.

Lucius could feel the woman’s eyes as she watched him cradle the boy. Moments later a soft, manicured hand came to run down his cheek. He allowed himself to lean into the soft touch of his wife for a moment, but his eyes did not leave the little one he had sworn to guard.

“It has been a long time,” the woman whispered, “since I have had the pleasure of seeing you hold a little one.” His eyes raised to meet hers, a wistfulness shining in them that took his breath away. It was true; Draco had passed the age of allowing them to hold him this way. He had cradled his son after the abduction, providing comfort to the traumatized child and assuring himself that the boy was alive, but the child was easily embarrassed now by such displays of affection.

The door opening signaled the arrival of his friend and broke the moment. Severus stepped into the room, his hair much less greasy and wearing a set of clean clothes. “Why don’t you lay down, Severus,” his wife said, motioning for the exhausted man to lay in the empty hospital bed. “If you wish, we can lay the boy down with you but you must sleep.” Lucius watched, somewhat amused, as his wife managed to convince the dour potions professor into lying down in the bed. Decision made, he carefully unwrapped the slumbering child from his warm cocoon, a soft whine escaping the little first year as he was exposed to the cold air of the hospital room. Temporarily handing the blanket to his wife, Lucius stood, arranging the child so that he was lying prone in his arms, the child’s chest and abdomen flat against his forearm. Silently, he lowered the boy onto the potions master’s chest, the boy subconsciously gripping the man’s sweater and ear finding his heart beat in his sleep. His wife draped the blanket over the pair.

“Sleep, Severus,” his wife said, extinguishing the light in the room and magically drawing the curtains closed. “You and the boy are safe here. We will make sure of it.” Lucius watched his friend losing the battle against sleep. He silently transfigured the rocking chair into a love seat and guided his wife to sit beside him.

Several minutes passed in silence as they sat silent guard, watching over their best friend and long-lost nephew. “You know,” his wife whispered, lips almost touching his ear and words barely audible despite the quiet of the room. “You looked terribly sweet holding the child, husband mine.” The woman’s soft hand came up to run down his chest. “It has been so long since we tried for another.”

Lucius’ eyes flew up to stare at his wife’s. “After the last miscarriage, I thought we had decided not to try again.”

It was silent for a second before his wife answered, “I have always wanted to continue trying,” she said softly, laying her head down on his shoulder, “But I worried that the pain of any further losses would push you away.”

His heart in his throat, Lucius brought his hand up to run it through his wife’s soft hair. “We can try for as long as you like, darling,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “Once the situation with the Dark Lord has been figured out.” His wife nodded against his shoulder and pressed a soft kiss to the skin of his mandible before the two continued their silent sentinel over the slumbering father and son.

Chapter Text

Chapter 41

The next time Harry woke, it was to find his drool covered cheek plastered against the potions professor’s sweater, his drool embarrassingly making a circle on the man’s chest. The man himself was sound asleep, dark circles under his eyes and stubble growing on his chin. Harry had never seen the man look so haggard.

Barely moving, he took a second to get his bearings. He was quick to realize, to his severe disappointment, that he was at St. Mungo’s and not Hogwarts Infirmary. Though, he was just relieved to be reunited with his dad, as he had thought that he would surely never see the man again. Movement beside the bed caught his attention and he shifted slightly to gaze at the form of Lucius Malfoy, distractedly looking through the Daily Prophet and completely unaware that Harry was awake. His cheeks reddened at the memory of his earlier awakening, where he had all but clung to the man.

Shying away from his embarrassment, he turned his focus back to the man whose chest he currently occupied. Without thinking he brought his hand up to touch the stubble on the man’s chin. He startled slightly when the man’s dark eyes flew open, blinking rapidly before settling on him. Before Harry could react, the man had sat them up and he was being pulled even more firmly against the man’s chest. One of the man’s hands held him under his bum and the second came up to gently cradle the back of his head, bringing his head into the crook of the man’s neck.

It took him several seconds to register what the man was frantically saying, seemingly attempting to reassure himself just as much as Harry, “-everything is okay, sweetheart. Daddy has you and no one will ever hurt you ever again.”

Harry knew it was not something the man could promise but he allowed himself to melt into the man, soaking up the comfort he had been desperately yearning for since his kidnapping. At some point, Mr. Malfoy slipped out of the room to give the two privacy.

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The boy’s awakening had the unfortunate side effect of drawing the attention of hospital staff, whom where quick to signal his healer to come evaluate him. The boy clung desperately to his front, hands looking white with the force he was gripping Severus’ sweater. The man had asked to examine the child, and Severus had been tempted to tell him no, that he needed to hold the boy a bit longer, but he knew that it was necessary.

Gently, he soothed the boy has he carefully laid the child on his back on the bed between his outstretched legs. The child curled his knees up, making himself look even smaller in the bed. He kept a possessive hand on the small child’s belly as the healer waved his wand over him. Green eyes looked at the healer wearily before focusing back on him, clearly not wanting Severus out of his sight. Now that the child was awake and a bit farther away, Severus allowed his eyes to rake over the small form.

The boy had filled out some since Severus had taken custody of him, though he knew that the boy had only gained a few pounds in that time. His kidnapping had robbed him of this much needed weight and again he was faced with a too thin child with hollow cheeks and sunken stomach. He was also quick to note the tremor, slight though it was. His heart shattered at the reminder of what the child had suffered and he brought one of his hands, trembling due to his emotions, up to gently sooth it through the boy’s hair. Attempting to distract himself, he decided that he would bathe the boy as soon as he could. The boy needed an actual bath and not the refreshening charms that had been used while he was unconscious.

Severus was quick to snatch the boy back up into his arms when Healer Goldstein said that he was done with his assessment, mindful of his injuries and the splint that remained on his lower leg. He cradled the small child to his chest, hand rubbing the child on the back and subconsciously rocking the child back and forth.

It took him a second to realize that the healer was attempting to speak with him, so focused was he on his charge. “-monitor the lad for the next several days and then we can see about getting him home. But I want to see him sitting up on his own and able to eat and drink before we consider it and I want to ensure that there are no other residual signs of damage from the cruciatus.” Severus nodded at the man, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. Since when had he been such an emotional mess? The child had completely altered him as a person. But as a small hand came up to grip his sweater and tired green eyes blinked at him, he was unable to find it within himself to care.

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On the observation side of a ministry interrogation room, the regal form of Lucius Malfoy stood. His pressed, expensive robes not giving away that he had sat in a hospital room for the last 12 hours as his oldest friend slept. Ice blue eyes stared through the magical viewing panel at the sad excuse of man sitting on the other side, slumped over and trembling in fear. He had paid a pretty price to gain attendance to the interrogation of Bartemius Crouch Sr., but it was a price he had been more than happy to pay if it meant that he got to hear firsthand.

The interrogators were taking a short break, stepping out to eat lunch. Lucius stared at the man as he contemplated what they had learned thus far. The man had agreed to allow his wife to take the place of his son in Azkaban, sneaking the convicted murderer out of the prison and leaving his wife to perish in his place. Since then, he had attempted to keep the man under the Imperius curse in the basement, until the man had thrown the curse off. After that, the man had faced a dose of his own medicine, quickly being overtaken by his son and made to act like everything was normal while being a prisoner in his own mind.

The fact that a ministry official had broken a convicted Death Eater out of the most secured wizarding prison in the world would be a scandal the likes that they had never seen before. Fudge had been a sweaty wreck hearing the man speak. But the depths of the man’s corruption had yet to be fully uncovered.

The door banged open loudly, causing the man in the room to flinch away harshly. Lucius paid little mind as he was joined by several other ministry officials, all whispering to each other as they waited for the interrogation to resume.

“Now,” the severe voice of Rufus Scrimgeour demanded as he stood across from the disgraced form of Crouch, ignoring the chair meant for him. “What was your son’s goals holding you hostage? What was he involved in?” the man questioned as he paced back and forth in front of the observation window. When the man failed to do more than stutter he slammed a heavy hand down onto the table the man was sagging against, causing a young Auror standing behind Lucius to jump in surprise. “It is in your best interest, Mr. Crouch to answer all of my questions,” Scrimgeour sneered at the trembling man, his other hand forming a first and Lucius knew the man was barely restraining himself from drawing his wand on the bumbling man in front of him.

The man in question rocked back and forth for a second. Scrimgeour slammed his hand down a second time, slowly advancing around the table threateningly before the man seemed to crack further, “I don’t know!” the man shouted desperately. “I have no idea what my son had planned to do! I don’t know what he and that crazy witch planned to do with the boy or why they were working together!”

Scrimgeour leaned down towards the man, free hand coming up to grip the man’s shoulder and push him down towards the table as his other hand slapped a handful of pictures onto the table. “Why was your son working with Bellatrix Lestrange? Do you know how she came to escape Azkaban as well?”

“No!” the man sobbed out. “I had no part in her escape! All I knew is that she showed up one day and demanded to know about the child! I swear I had no part in her escape!”

Lucius pressed closer to the glass, barely daring to breathe as he focused all of his attention on the two men before him.

“And why did she want to know about the child?” the hardened Auror asked, not letting go of the man’s shoulder, flipping to a picture of the child in question.

“He’s her son, why else?” the man squeaked frantically, shaking intensifying.

Scrimgeour paused slightly before proceeding, “And why would she come to you for this information?”

When the man refused to respond, biting his lip until he bled, Scrimgeour moved his hand to the back of the man’s neck, viciously squeezing and forcing the man’s face centimeters above the picture of the small boy. “You will answer my questions,” he said, venom heavy in his voice.

“She knew I knew where he was!” the balding man cried out desperately. “She knew that I had been charged with the boy during her initial capture!”

Lucius stopped breathing as the weight of the man’s statement settled in his mind and his hand gripped his wand tightly, sparking slightly in his moment of anger.

“What do you mean?” the Auror demanded. “There was no report of a Lestrange child upon her arrest.”

“I-I-“ the man stuttered, tears leaking from his miserable face.

“Answer me!” Scrimgeour shouted, releasing the man’s neck to throw the table over end, sending the photos and the prisoner’s water cup flying dramatically.

As the picture of his nephew fluttered to the floor, Lucius heard the words that would change everything. “The child belongs to that bastard, Snape! Upon her arrest she begged for the boy to be taken to him but that man deserves to be behind bars just as surely as that bitch herself! So, what did I do? I dropped the brat off at some muggle orphanage! Good riddance, I had thought. The world did not need to suffer the disgusting spawn of Bellatrix Lestrange and Severus Snape! I had been hopeful that that disgusting place would destroy the child but clearly the little bastard survived.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 42

If Harry was a cat, he was sure he would be purring. After being held captive in that dusty room and then only having refreshening charms used on him while he slept, a bath had sounded lovely when his dad had suggested one. They were still at St. Mungo’s and Harry was estimated to be released in the next couple of days, which he eagerly anticipated. After seeing his excitement at the idea of a bath, he had found himself being stripped and gently laid down in perfectly warm water. The bathtub was curved like a reclined seat, holding him in a comfortable position and ensuring that he was not at risk of drowning in the event that he fell asleep. It was delightful and Harry allowed himself to melt into the warm water as his father carefully washed him, the cast on his right leg encased in a modified bubble charm to ensure it did not get wet. There were no toys but Harry did not think he would have been awake enough to play with them. He hummed happily as bony fingers scrubbed his scalp, half lidded eyes fully slipping closed.

The dark-haired man had been exceedingly gentle with him since he awoke the day before. Harry constantly found himself cradled against the man’s chest, tucked into his neck, or being rocked. The man seemed to have at least one hand on him at all times, unwilling to step out of arms reach. This had been somewhat embarrassing when it came to Harry needing the toilet, but he doubted he would have been able to sit up straight by himself anyway. He knew that he was being overly accepting of the babying he found himself on the receiving end of, but he had never had an adult who had shown him as much care and attention as Snape had. Sirius had loved him, but the man had looked at him and seen James, not Harry. And because of Harry, Sirius had died before they really got to know each other. Before he had been able to live with him.

But here, he had the chance to live with a man who wanted to be his parent. Snape looked at Harry, saw the brokenness, and took care of him anyway. If you had asked him in his previous life if the dour potions professor would make a good dad, he would have laughed. However, Snape was undeniably a better father than Harry had ever dreamed of having. He found himself desperate to be in the man’s presence. He wanted Snape to hold him, to speak softly to him, to be proud of him. He wanted the dark-haired man for himself. Wanted to allow himself to rely on the man fully, to let the man comfort him and drive away his demons. The small child, locked away in a cupboard and told that no one would ever love such a freak, was desperate for this man to love him. For Harry had grown to love the man in return.

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Severus was not surprised that the boy had fallen asleep in the bath. The child had struggled to stay awake for more than half an hour at a time since awaking the afternoon before. He had yet to speak, but Severus had not expected him to. His healer had advised him that there very well might be some regression in the progress that the child had made over the last several months.

Severus magically drained the tub before wrapping the small child in a fluffy towel and carrying him back into his room, lying him down on hospital bed. He dried the child’s body magically but manually dried his hair, not wanting it to frizz, which often times occurred when he attempted to magically dry the child’s hair. He was gentle, not wanting to wake the boy. Once his curls had been suitably dried, Severus set to work applying the child’s various topical potions, geared towards improving the appearance of the scars on his skin. The child stretched his arms and legs, arms coming up above his head before he adorably rubbed his eyes with his fists. Still the child did not fully wake.

Severus had just pulled on a pair of pants on the child when the door opened and a grim face of Lucius greeted him. The blond man silently walked over to the window and stared out, waiting for Severus to settle the child into the bed before speaking. “Much has come to light in the last several hours,” the regal man said, his voice grim sounding.

Severus tucked his son’s arm around his stuffed dragon and pulled his blanket up to his chin before looking up at his friend, “And that would be…” he drawled.

“Bartemius Crouch Sr. was present when Bellatrix and her husband were arrested.”

The man’s words caused Severus to sit up straighter, hand stilling where it was gently petting the child’s curls. Silently, he cast a silencing charm over the child, preventing him from waking and hearing their conversation, before motioning for the blond to continue.

“He is responsible for the child ending up in that dreadful muggle orphanage,” the man said, anger seeping into his voice. Severus jerked back in surprise before the reality of the man’s words set in and hot, fiery hatred crawled up his chest and into his throat. His hands clawed the bedding he sat on before he stood and began pacing.

“It appears,” the blond aristocrat continued, “that he dropped the child off as some sort of underhanded attempt to punish you and Bella for being Death Eaters. He confessed to hoping that those muggles destroyed the child, whom he has deemed less than for his parentage.”

At his words, Severus’ control on his anger got away for him and the lamp beside the boy’s bed exploded. Turning away, he took a second to occlude, forcing himself to calm down. “Anything else I should know?” Severus asked in an icy tone.

“The boy’s name was not originally Harrison Jai Snape,” the blond man said softly, causing the potions master to turn to him. “This was the name assigned to him by the orphanage staff. It appears that Crouch provided them your surname and the first initial of the boy’s name but nothing else. The orphanage staff must have come up with the rest.”

“And what was the boy’s birth name?” Severus asked.

In answer, Lucius walked towards the man, the only sound in the room the sound of his cane against the wood floor. Silently, Lucius held out the small photograph. Severus gripped the old photo desperately, staring down at the picture of his son as an innocent newborn, memorizing every detail of a baby that he should have had in his custody since the very beginning. A name was quick to draw his attention. “Hydrus Polaris Black,” he read aloud in a quiet voice.

“It makes since that she would provide the child the last name of Black, given that the child did not belong to her husband,” Lucius said softly. “This photo was found on a desk at the Crouch Manor, amongst other things belonging to Bella. Most of her possessions have been confiscated by the Ministry but now that she has an underage heir, whom the Ministry has personally wronged with Crouch’s interference with his custody, there will be the matter of his inheritance to deal with.”

Severus nodded along, though he cared little about any money to be gained from Bellatrix’s vaults. There was something much more important, “And of Crouch?” he hissed. “What will become of the man?” He wanted the man to suffer for what he had done. He wanted to make the man bleed for all of the pain and suffering he had put his innocent son through. The man deserved nothing less than a painful, prolonged death for his crimes.

“He will go to trial,” the blond said, striding back towards the window and looking out into the snowy courtyard below. “We will sue for reparations and he will likely go to Azkaban for his crimes. Fudge is sweating at how this will appear to the public; it is unprecedented and will draw a lot of questions about any further mishandlings at the end of the war. Do not worry Severus, we will not allow the man to go unpunished.”

“We?” Severus asked.

“Why, the man has personally harmed The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, which I myself have married into and the child belongs to. You and the child will have the complete support of the Black name. I am more than happy to represent the boy as his lawyer. We will secure his financial future and ensure that he never needs to work, even without any inheritance he may be entitled to. Crouch will rue the day he decided to harm our family.” Severus did not doubt it for a second as he heard the finality in the man’s words. One did not want to get on Lucius Malfoy’s bad side.

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The child grumpily turned his head into Severus’ shoulder, ignoring the healer trying to engage with him. He bounced the child slightly in his arms, attempting to calm and reassure him. But the boy wasn’t having it. He was clearly tired of being poked and prodded by these people.

“Would you say that he is acting like himself, Severus?” the blond-haired healer asked in a kind voice. “No major changes in behavior?”

“Yes,” Severus said, bringing a hand up to cradle the back of his head. “He has never been keen to interact with anyone.”

“I cannot say I blame him,” the man responded, bringing his wand to gently tap against the boy’s back, causing him to let out a whine and grip onto Severus’ robe. The man shushed him gently, attempting to soothe him as the healer cast diagnostic charms.

“Well Mr. Snape,” the man said after several minutes. “I see no reason to hold the boy here much longer if he is able to prove that he is able to eat and drink by mouth. I know this is an issue he has struggled with but I do know that you had made some progress before his kidnapping. I would like to see him hold something down before we release him. He still has a mild tremor but he has otherwise recovered well.”

Something inside Severus relaxed at the words. Until now he had not realized how much stress that he still carried and the worry he had that some other side effect of the child’s captivity would rear its head and they would never be able to leave.

Though, getting the child to eat or drink would be difficult, as the boy was once again refusing to take anything by mouth. He had caved and attempted to feed the boy treacle tart this afternoon, but still the child had turned away from it.

“We will give it our best shot,” he said softly, swaying the boy slightly from side to side. “Though, he is even less likely to take something with an audience.”

The man nodded his head in agreeance. “Well then,” he said, a smile curling his lips. “I will just leave you two to it. If he does well we will go through discharge instructions and outpatient treatment.”

And then Severus was alone with the boy. He continued swaying the boy for a moment before moving towards the rocking chair, reclining the child in his arms. Stressed green eyes met his and he started gently patting the boy’s back as they rocked. “You are okay, sweet boy,” he murmured to the child softly. “Everything will be fine, you will see.”

They rocked for a while and the child’s eyes frequently fluttered closed, but Severus did not want the boy to fall asleep just yet. He summoned the boy’s sippy from his bedside table and for probably the tenth time in the hour brushed it against the child’s lips, attempting to encourage him to drink. This action earned him nothing but a tired whine from the small child and Severus increased the rate that he was rocking the child.

“Just a few sips, baby boy.” the man softly tried to coax the boy. “Then you and daddy can get out of here.” It seemed that thought of leaving the hospital was enough to coax the boy into latching onto the spout and he took a couple short sips before he picked up speed, clearly Severus had been correct in picking pumpkin juice for the child, his sweet tooth driving him to drink almost all of it. The child unlatched abruptly and coughed a couple times, prompting Severus to sit the child up and pat his back.

It seemed to do the trick and the child’s eyes were once again quick to drift shut. Severus continued rocking the boy for long after he had fallen off to sleep, allowing his own emotions to settle and for a sense of peace to fill him. They were leaving.

Chapter Text

Chapter 43

Severus struggled to pay attention as he was provided with return precautions and information for their next appointment with his son’s healer. Lucius’ hand on his shoulder kept his exhausted brain somewhat present. He cradled the boy to his chest as he impatiently thought of escaping St. Mungo’s. Words between Lucius and the healer were exchanged and then he was being guided through St. Mungo’s by the steady hand on his shoulder.

“We have to exit through the main lobby to use the floo,” his old friend said softly, continuing to propel him through the hospital. “We shall floo to the Manor and then again to your destination. Cissa has arranged everything.” Severus nodded silently, his eyes flickering down to look at the child in his arms. The boy was fast asleep, faithful dragon plushie held in his arms, and wrapped gently in his blanket. Severus pulled the blanket up slightly, attempting to help shield the child’s face from view and hoped that he continued to sleep through their travel through the floo system. This hope heightened as they entered the lobby and were met with the flashes of multiple cameras and questions were shouted at them from numerous journalists. Severus cringed as the child jerked in his arms and Lucius propelled them even faster through the floo, spinning away as the camera flashes continued.

Severus paid little attention as they stepped out into the entry hall of Malfoy Manor, Lucius and Cissa speaking softly to each other as he soothed his son back into a peaceful slumber. The news that the boy was the son of Bellatrix had rocked the wizarding world. The news that a Ministry official was being charged with horrific crimes concerning the child had polarized the public. The extremists on the side of the light had been unconcerned, feeling that the child of one of the Dark Lord’s most feared Death Eaters should have been drowned at birth to spare the general public. The majority of the wizarding world was up in arms, however, horrified at the treatment of the child, which had also ended up being leaked to the press. The general public was disgusted that any magical child, especially one with a living and nonincarcerated parent, had been dumped at a muggle orphanage where he faced horrific treatment at the hands of his caregivers. Multiple investigations had been launched but as of now, no further arrests had been made.

“Severus,” Cissa said, drawing his attention back to the present. “Lucius and I have decided to have you and Harrison stay at our safe house. Yes, Bellatrix and Barty are dead but with the current political climate we feel that you and the child could stand to get away for a bit.” Severus couldn’t argue with her reasoning. He also couldn’t even argue that he needed to work. When his son had been taken, Horace Slughorn had agreed to come out of retirement and to teach through the rest of the school year. Severus nodded and was then once again ushered through the floo.

He stepped out into a small but open sitting area, decorated in a costal fashion. His shoulders relaxed minutely as he took in his surroundings, and he stepped out of the way just in time for Lucius to follow him through the floo. The man was saying something to him, but Severus struggled to focus on his words. Every part of him was exhausted and the relief of being able to remove his son from the hospital only added to it.
He allowed the blond man to guide him towards the master bedroom, “You and Harrison may stay here as long as you like,” he said in a smooth voice. “Narcissa has instructed the Malfoy elves to respond to your call, so feel free to order meals. They already clean the house and will continue to do so during your stay.”

Severus could only nod his thanks before his friend gave his shoulder a squeeze and left the son and father duo truly alone for the first time since before the kidnapping. He heaved a relieved sigh before placing his slumbering child down on the bed, moving away only slightly to grab a pair of the boy’s own pajamas so that he could get the hospital provided ones off of him. He moved quickly, stripping the boy with practiced ease, shushing the boy gently when he whined slightly. Once the child was comfortable, Severus quickly slipped into a pair of sleep pants and a shirt, picked up his son, and crawled into the massive bed. He sunk into the cloud like pillow top mattress with a relieved sign, pulling his son into the crook of his arm. The child subconsciously buried himself into Severus’ underarm, small hands leaving his dragon to twist into the warn fabric of Severus’ shirt. He dropped a kiss onto the child’s brow, a bony hand coming up to soothe down the child’s hair and back. For the first time since his son was taken, Severus let himself drift off into a deep sleep.

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The days that followed were difficult. The child was clingier than he had ever been, oftentimes refusing to be put down and panicking if Severus attempted to leave him alone for any reason. Severus did his best to accommodate his son’s increased need for physical contact and company. At the advice of Ted, he begun to do something the man called “skin to skin”. He and the boy both had initially been incredibly embarrassed at being shirtless on the couch with the boy laid across his chest, but the child had immediately been soothed, relaxing into Severus’ chest with a quiet sigh. It had been the most relaxed while awake that he had seen the child in a long time. So, they made a habit of it and Severus made sure to make time for “skin to skin” daily with the boy, which often turned into family nap time as they both struggled to stay awake during the sessions.

Slowly but surely, Severus began to see hints of his son’s personality before the kidnapping shine through. The boy began to play with his cat again (who had been relocated from Malfoy Manor, where he had resided since the kidnapping) and had taken an interest in staring out of the window, which was pointed towards the stormy beach. The child took great enjoyment in watching storms roll in, oftentimes falling asleep while pressed up against the glass of the windows.

The boy’s leg was still in a cast, and would be for another week or two, depending on how well his magic aided in the healing process. Severus could tell that the boy was eager to walk independently and while he hoped that the cast would be removed soon, he could not lie and say that he did not enjoy carrying the boy around. The boy not being able to get around independently gave him the excuse to continue coddling the child and he himself enjoyed the closeness this resulted in.

They had also made progress in the child’s diet. Over the last couple of days, the boy had eaten a variety of fruits, including bananas, strawberries, oranges, and pears. It was a massive step in the right direction and he and Ted were exceptionally happy with the little variety that had been added to the boy’s list of acceptable foods, which until now had primarily consisted of treacle tart.

Severus was hopeful that they would continue to see improvements in the next few months. In a couple of weeks, the boy would be joining Ted for weekly sessions and he would be spending time with Newt, helping him care for his creatures. They felt that giving the child a job, even if it was just feeding kneazles, would give the child a purpose and help him gain confidence in himself as well as increase his interpersonal skills. The child had thus far seemed to take well to animals, and it was an angle they were fulling planning to lean into. The next several months would be fully dedicated to his son’s healing and for the first time in a long time, Severus felt optimistic that they were headed in the right direction.

Chapter Text

Chapter 44

Harry allowed Snape to manipulate his body into a pair of underwear and a set of yellow pajamas. The man was speaking softly to him but Harry wasn’t able to focus on the words. For the first time since they moved into the house by the sea, Harry had woken up screaming, drenched in sweat and to his mortification and horror, urine. Harry had nearly choked on his embarrassment. To his confusion, Snape had no snide remark, no sneer, or unkind word. The man had ignored the mess in order to comfort Harry before drawing him a bath. Harry had laid in the tub, trying to swallow any further tears as the man attempted to reassure and calm him, telling him that it was okay and that it had been an accident. His reassurances did little to cure his embarrassment and Harry continued to shutter with stifled sobs.

The bath had not been a long one and he quickly found himself being bundled into a new set of pajamas and wrapped up in a fresh blanket. Instead of returning to the bed, which had already been cleaned by the Malfoy elf watching over them, Harry found himself being cradled against the tired man’s chest in the rocking chair brought over from their rooms at Hogwarts. Harry buried his face into the man’s warn out sleep shirt, desperately hoping to also burry his shame. The man just patted his back in a steady rhythm in time with the slow soothing motion of the rocking chair. Against his better judgement, Harry felt himself drift back off to sleep, soothed by the grounding presence of his potions professor turned dad.

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Harry grumpily glared at Ted Tonks from his position in Snape’s arms, his hands fisted into the man’s robe hopefully communicating his refusal to be put down. The grey-haired man had come over for what Snape had called “therapy” and Harry was having no part in it. The man had tried introducing himself to Harry, but Harry refused to acknowledge him. Harry had continued to ignore him when the man had sat down and pulled out a variety of magical and muggle toys and set them on the rug. Or he tried. He couldn’t help but stare at the toys from his position in Snape’s lap but he had no intention of allowing the dour potions professor to set him down. For all he knew this was some ploy for Snape to leave him with a babysitter and Harry was not taking the risk that the man may disappear if he were to let go of him.

Since his kidnapping, he had been overwhelmed by terror every time the man left his line of sight, as if the man disappeared forever if he stepped out of the room. To his eternal embarrassment, this had led to him having multiple breakdowns if the man made the mistake of leaving him alone, even for a second. As a result, the man had begun to humor him, carrying him around on his hip as he went around taking care of his own needs. Harry knew he was acting like a baby, but he couldn’t help it. The cold sweat and chest tightening terror he felt every time he even thought of the man leaving him was enough for him to throw his pride out the window and demand that the man cart him around everywhere that he went.

This behavior had apparently inspired his “therapy” session today with Ted. Thankfully, it appeared that his refusal to take part in whatever the grey-haired man had planned seemed to be accepted by the pair of men and Snape eventually repositioned, reclining further on the couch and draping Harry across his chest. He was quick to place his ear over the man’s heart and sighed in relief, though his hands did not detach himself from the man’s now wrinkled robes, part of him still scared that he would be snatched from the man’s arms.

A large hand soothed him up and down his back and an occasional kiss was dropped on his brow as the two men talked. “It is not unexpected, Severus,” the grey-haired man said in a kind voice. “The magnitude of the trauma he has gone through is almost inconceivable. We knew there would be set backs. I am actually quite pleased in his progress and his attachment to you is a testament to how well you have cared for him.”

The dark-haired man responded something that sounded similar to a “not well enough” but the therapist did not seem to have heard him. The man’s long fingers came up to soothe down his tense knuckles, still tightly gripping the front of the man’s robes.

“We will continue to plow on ahead, providing the boy with what he needs in the moment. We will go at his pace. Right now, he’s telling us that he is not comfortable being away from you. That is perfectly natural, given the circumstances.”

Harry was very much done with listening to this conversation, so he tuned them out, focusing instead on the dark-haired man’s heartbeat and attempted to match the man’s breathing. He was quick to relax further into the man’s chest and his eyelids started to droop. The two men continued to talk over his head, but he was too far gone to decipher what they were saying.

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Lucius’ black dragonhide boots were loud as he stepped into courtroom nine, a smaller court primarily used for preliminary or bond hearings and other small matters that did not require the full Wizengamot, which met in courtroom ten.

Today marked the first of many pretrial conferences centered around his nephew and Bartemius Crouch Sr., who was currently in a Ministry holding cell awaiting his trial. His treatment of Harrison and his misdeeds at the end of the war were not enough to send the man to Azkaban, but his smuggling of his Death Eater son out of the prison certainly was. The man’s crimes against the House of Black were considered a civil issue and would be a separate trial from the man’s criminal trial, which would occur in a month in front of the full Wizengamot.

Lucius would be spearheading the case against him from the Black family and would be representing the child in court. He would be pushing for significant financial compensation to the tune of most of the man’s sizable estate. In order for this to occur, he had had to do a significant amount of digging into the boy’s past as he needed to demonstrate to the court the amount of suffering the boy had gone through. Muggle records were not something he had a lot of experience navigating but his magic gave him the ultimate advantage. After much digging, he had found a lead. The matron of the orphanage had been the only one to die in the fire that destroyed the orphanage, but there had been a caretaker. An older woman in her late 80’s who was incredibly superstitious. Questioning her formally under veritaserum with the proper officials present had been simple enough, as the Ministry was highly motivated to see the proper parties punished for the roles in the kidnapping of a scion of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

What he had learned thus far was enough to turn any reasonable person’s stomach, but as the father of another eleven-year-old boy, it was enough to cause nightmares. While the old muggle woman had not directly harmed the boy, she certainly encouraged the matron’s treatment of him and had not attempted to help the child at any time. She had been able to detail a significant amount of the maltreatment the child had suffered, from being kept full time in a small cupboard in the orphanage basement, the beatings and attempted exorcisms, and to the prolonged periods of starvation. Truly, Lucius was sure the child would have died at a young age if not for his magic.

The atrocities the child faced were detailed in a seventy-foot report, which would be used as evidence against Crouch and to demonstrate the alleged damages his actions had caused. Lucius took the kidnapping and abuse of his nephew very seriously and he was going to do everything in his power to see to it that justice was obtained for the small boy.

Chapter Text

Chapter 45

Severus held the child securely in his lap as Healer Goldstein carefully used his wand to cut through the boy’s cast, revealing the pale skin of his leg for the first time in weeks. The boy watched the healer somewhat suspiciously, green eyes adorably narrowed as he watched the man like a hawk. Once the cast was removed, the healer manipulated the child’s ankle, moving it through full flexion and extension, seeming pleased with whatever he was seeing.

“He should be good to begin walking on it, Severus” the man said, stepping back to give the child some space. “However, he may tire out fast and I recommend taking things slowly.” Severus nodded, bringing the boy deeper into the circle of his arms. The boy was quick to turn his face into Severus’ shoulder, but if the amusement in Healer Goldstein’s eyes was any indication, he'd guess that the child still had one eye on the man.

“Now, for the less fun topics that need to be discussed,” the healer said, stepping away for a second to the counter behind him to grab his son’s ridiculously thick medical file. Severus gently began running one hand up and down the small boy’s back as the man continued, “How has Harrison been faring since his discharge?”

“We have had some setbacks but we have also made some progress,” Severus said honestly. “He is now eating a small variety of fresh fruits but he is yet to eat an actual meal.”

“You are still spelling nutrition potions into him several times a day?” the healer asked, briefly glancing up at the potions master. At Severus’ confirmation, the man nodded once and continued to look through the file in his hands. “Good,” the healer said, glancing up briefly again to look at his patient. “Harrison has gained a little over a pound since I last saw him. It is not as much as I would like, but every little bit is important. I would recommend trying to encourage him to drink more of his calories. Smoothies with healthy fats may be worth trying if you have not done so already.”

Severus was quick to agree and the conversation moved on, going over the child’s sleeping habits, his increased anxiety, and unsuccessful counseling sessions with Ted Tonks. The healer advised him to stay consistent with the child and their routine, and reassured him that it may take a while for the child to fully come out of his shell, especially in light of his most recent trauma.

The slight mention of the child’s recent kidnapping had Severus tucking the boy even more securely into his arms. He occluded against the dark thoughts of that time and what he knew his child had suffered, clearing his mind to help him remain in the present and pay attention to the man in front of him.

“You are doing well, Severus,” the man said with any easy conviction that Severus wished he himself could also feel. He didn’t think he would ever feel fully confident in his ability to care for his son.

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The small beach house that he had grown to love was bustling with activity. For the first time since he and his son had sought refuge here, they had more than a single visitor. It was late and his son was already tucked into bed, faithful dragon under one arm. Severus had been very tempted to spell the floo shut against visitors and tuck himself into bed beside the boy. Instead, he put a spell on the door that would allow the child to sleep in peace but he would still hear him if the boy needed him.

Placing one more kiss on the boy’s brow, he exited the master bedroom just as several people stepped through the floo. Andromeda Tonks ushered in a man he had hoped would not show, Sirius Black. The man was already involved in the Dark Lord’s capture and had demanded to be of further aid. They had acquiesced on the condition that what he learned did not reach any further ears. Severus ignored the man, instead focusing on his friend as Lucius Malfoy and his wife stepped through afterwards. Lady Malfoy was quick to her sister’s side and the two exchanged soft greetings, clearly still trying to get comfortable in their renewed relationship. Pleasantries were exchanged as a Malfoy elf provided tea to his visitors and set out a variety of finger foods before an anticipatory silence descended on the small gathering, the ladies and Black sitting down while Lucius leaned on his cane and Severus began to pace in front of the floo.

The silence stretched for a few seconds longer before Lucius tightened his grip on his cane, “The Dark Lord’s spirit remains contained in a deserted Black residence,” he said, his voice quiet but carrying across the room with ease. “The journal remains in my custody in our manor under heavy wards. I refuse to hold them in the same location, as I suspect that they will be able to interact and I worry about the Dark Lord drawing power from the soul fragment contained in the diary.” Uneasy looks were exchanged amongst those present. “Thus far, the Dark Lord has been too weak to truly attempt to breach the wards containing him. I worry that over time he will be able to regain his strength. We need to move swiftly with the collection of any further horcruxes.”

“We have no way of knowing how many he may have made!” Severus said, continuing to pace around the room.

“The Dark Lord would not have stopped at one,” said Lucius. “He will have wanted multiple safeguards in place and his ego would not have allowed him to only have one.” His statement was met with nods from around the room. “The creation of multiple horcruxes would help to explain the insanity he exhibited towards the end of the war.”

From his vantage point, Severus could see a frown on Andromeda’s face. “With the soul fragment contained in the diary and the main piece of the Dark Lord’s soul -”

Her voice was cut off by a dull thud from the master bedroom. Severus’ head whipped towards the sound and he waited for a second but it was the quiet “Da-” that had him striding across the sitting room towards the open door of the bedroom.

He quietly stepped into the room and his eyes were quick to find the small form of his son, who was on the floor with his legs twisted into his blanket. He strode towards the child quickly and kneeled down beside him. The boy reached for him and Severus was quick to oblige the child, lifting him into his arms and setting him on his hip. With one hand, he assessed the child for any injury to his head or extremities. “Are you hurt, sweet boy?” he asked softly. He did not receive an answer. Finding nothing, he attempted to tuck the child back into bed but small fists clung to the front of his robe. Green eyes pleaded up at him.

Knowing a lost battle when he saw one, Severus handed the boy his dragon and snagged his blanket off of the floor. The child tucked himself into the shoulder of his robe and his eyes threatened to drift closed as he carried the boy into the sitting room. The conversation that had resumed in his absence again paused and more than one person cooed quietly at the adorable sight his son no doubtably made in his arms. He quickly strode to the empty rocking chair, arranging the child so that his ear was over his breastbone and tucking his blanket around him. The boy relaxed further into his embrace and he slowly began to rock back and forth. Green eyes closed and Severus allowed himself to look up at those around him. Several sets of amused eyes met his, causing him to huff slightly. “You were saying…” he prompted Andromeda, hoping to distract those present from the absolute tatters that was his reputation.

The woman stared blankly at him for several long moments before she seemed to remember where she had left off, “Yes,” she said. “As I was saying, with at least two fragments of the Dark Lord’s soul, there has to be a ritual that we can find to help either locate or summon the remaining fragments.”

“But would this work if the remaining pieces are behind wards?” questioned Severus. “We know that the Dark Lord would not have left pieces of his soul without significant protections in place. The diary was protected by the wards of Malfoy Manor. The remaining pieces may very well be hidden behind the wards of other Ancient and Noble Houses.”

His proclamation was met with a tense silence. Lucius stepped forward, cane gripped tightly in his pale hands and braced against the ground in front of him. “There were very few families that the Dark Lord had such close ties to during and before the war. My father was exceptionally close with the man and then me when I was made to join his forces as a Hogwarts graduate. There are few other Death Eaters that I can think of that he may have trusted enough with his horcruxes.” Those present exchanged uneasy looks. The blond man sighed softly, turning to pace in the spot where Severus had previously vacated to retrieve his son. “I will make a list. Many members of Ancient and Noble Houses went without punishment after the war due to their connections and blood status.”

Black’s muttered, “Well gee, imagine that,” went largely ignored as the blond continued.

“But I will enquire where I can without arousing suspicion.” Lucius finished, his pacing coming to a stop. “In the meantime, Andromeda can you continue your perusal of the Black family library for any and all information regarding soul magic and horcruxes? We need to ensure that we have a way to dispose of them in addition to tracking down the remaining ones. I believe this is the best use of your talents.” The dark haired woman was quick to agree and Sirius made no ejection to the woman coming and going as she pleased at the Black family residence, which he despised anyway.

The conversation dissolved from there and a blanket of tension seemed to settle upon the shoulders of those gathered as the weight of what lay before them and the uncertainty of the future was truly felt for the first time. Instead of forcing himself to engage in smalltalk, Severus placed a soft kiss on his son’s brow and focused on rocking the child. The task in front of them was insurmountable but they had no choice but to succeed. They had to, for if they didn’t Severus dreaded to think of what the future may hold.