The Boy in The Mirror (2/2), for artisticentropy Title: The Boy in the Mirror (2/2) Author: sev1970 Giftee: artisticentropy Word Count: ~17,500 Rating: PG Characters: Severus Snape, Harry Potter Warnings: This fiction is a spoiler for DH. Light swearing - two words to be exact, and they are tame. Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros., etc. Summary: Severitus. Harry has to face a post-Voldemort world, a feat made difficult when Snape shows up in the Gryffindor common room only hours after Voldemort has met his demise, but not as difficult as it will be when Harry finds out his mother had a secret. Canon-compliant through chapter thirty-six. A/N: Written for the snarry_holidays fic exchange. Thanks so much to the mods for running this; it has been such fun! Thank you also to the two C’s who made this fic better - you both are wonderful, amazing, talented, and deserve my thanks and hugs! A/N II: Happy Holidays, artisticentropy! I hope you enjoy what I’ve written for you.
Severus was finishing marking the seventh year essays when Potter entered the room and set his bag down on his desk. Looking up, Severus thought he sensed that the boy was bothered by something. Potter wore his emotions on his sleeve, and as frustrating as that was to Severus, it would serve the boy well in life in most situations.
"Are the times I indicated in my letter satisfactory?"
"Yes, sir."
"Mr. Creevey will be pleased to hear that you are going to help him." Severus caught the small gasp. Yes, Potter would understand that Dennis Creevey would want nothing to do with Severus Snape.
"Sir?"
Severus gave Harry a curt nod, curious as to what he was about to hear.
"I need to talk to you, but it's not about the memories I saw, I promise. It's really important."
"I am rather busy, Potter, can we do this next week?" Harry seemed almost panicked. Severus was intrigued.
"I need to talk to you now, sir. If it weren't so important, I'd not be bothering you."
"Very well. Be at my office half an hour before dinner."
As with all things in Severus's life, something came up and he had to delay their meeting. As where in previous years he would not have cared if Potter seemed distressed, Severus was now curious about what the boy needed to discuss. Yes, Severus knew more than likely the impending meeting between the two was going to be about Potter's mother, and as he had already said to Potter, he would refuse to give him information. Even so, Severus could not help but feel somewhat regretful because it was evident the boy craved any piece of information, no matter how small.
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Why were things so messed up in Harry's life? He had missed dinner, but he would go down to the kitchen later and get something from the house-elves, although he was not looking forward to doing that. He had not seen Kreacher since before he had gone to the Burrow, and he had put off seeing him, not wanting to be reminded of Dobby. However, Harry knew he could only delay the inevitable for so long. Pulling on his robes, Harry ran down the stairs for his lesson with Dennis. Hopefully he would be there, and then just maybe if he was lucky, Snape would be in his office afterwards, because Harry really needed to talk to him and didn't want to give the man another opportunity to brush him aside.
When he entered the room, Dennis was sitting on a stool, looking at a diagram on the wall. He looked so little. According to Snape, Dennis was in fifth year, but he was being supplemented with fourth year lessons as well, since he and Colin had not attended Hogwarts last year due to the stance on non-purebloods.
"Hi, Dennis. Are you ready?"
"Hey, Harry. Yeah, do I need my book?"
Harry pulled up a stool and sat across from Dennis.
"Before you leave, I'll assign you some pages to read because I think it would help you to conceptualize what you are trying to accomplish. But for now, we'll do some practical work. I think Professor Snape said you seem to be hesitant about casting curses at people." No doubt the boy was terrified because it was a curse that had killed his brother.
"Yeah, I did everything else fine, but when it came to casting a curse, I couldn't. I don't want to do that, Harry. I know I have to for lessons, but it scares me."
"You didn't have a practical with Professor Snape, did you?"
"No, Some bloke named Shacklebolt came and tested me."
Harry grinned, but felt somewhat bad for Dennis. Kingsley had been the one who had implemented the new Defence strategies for Defence Against the Dark Arts, saying that every student needed a well-rounded education in Defence. Kingsley was an imposing figure, and Harry imagined Dennis had been more than a bit nervous around him.
"He's an excellent teacher. I'll have to meet with him and find out where you stand." Harry ran his hands through his hair, wondering how best to help his new charge. He stood and walked to the door.
"Follow me." When the two were outdoors, Harry led Dennis to the Quidditch pitch. After lighting the pitch enough so they could both see, Harry Summoned the Quidditch equipment and two broomsticks, opened the case, and removed the Snitch.
"How would you like to see if you can catch the Snitch?"
Harry mounted one of the broomsticks and watched Dennis's eyes light up. He had guessed correctly. Harry really did loathe all the attention he received, but he knew how much Colin had looked up to him, and Dennis was the same way. If Harry could get the boy to open up and trust him, perhaps he would better understand that if Harry Potter used defence, then so could Dennis Creevey. Harry wanted Dennis to realise that defence was not only about doing harm to others. It was likely what Dennis was suffering was a block, and his mind was simply protecting him. Regardless of what was wrong, Harry was confident he and Dennis would solve this problem.
Harry let the Snitch go, then took off, and saw Dennis do the same. After he counted to ten, Harry yelled for Dennis to locate it.
An hour later, the two walked back into the Defence room, sweaty, but Dennis was much more at ease than he had been sixty minutes earlier. Catching the Snitch had nothing to do with Defence, but if it had instilled some trust between him and Harry, then Harry knew it had been worth it. Harry told Dennis to read chapter three of Advancing Defence Strategies, then dismissed him. He had gathered his copy of the book he and Dennis were going to use, and was about to leave the room when Snape entered.
"Where is Mr. Creevey?"
"I dismissed him early; I don't think it should take too long to get his confidence up."
"Let us hope you are correct in your assumptions, because if you are not, he will have to be removed from my class. I cannot afford to have inattentive students. If you do not have other pressing obligations, we will now discuss that matter you seem to think is so important."
What an enigma Snape was. There was almost always some credence to what the man said, but did he have to be so mean-spirited about it? Just when he seemed to be the slightest bit cordial, he had to ruin the moment by being a complete and utter git…a git who was probably Harry's father.
"Yeah, we do need to talk," Harry said as he studied the man before him, trying to guage his mood, although that was pointless. Snape could be in the best mood ever…if that was even possible, yet once he found out what Harry was about to tell him, that would change, and Harry didn't know if he wanted to open himself up to ridicule and who knew what else.
Harry had been asked to do so much, and he had done it because it had been the right thing to do, but this -- thinking Snape might be his father, and having to tell the man -- was almost more than Harry could face. But, he was an adult now and, as such, he would face this. What was the worst that could happen? Snape could turn him away, and he could yell at him. Neither thing would be new to Harry, so why was he so concerned?
Harry sat back down on the stool and watched as Snape sat behind his desk. Snape didn't look angry, but neither did he look like he was ready to hear he might be Harry Potter's father.
There was a knock on the door, and Snape pointed his wand and opened it. Professor Slughorn entered and handed Snape a goblet.
"Thank you, Horace."
Harry watched as Slughorn nodded, then as he left the room, closing the door behind him. Slughorn had noticed Harry was there, but he hadn't acknowledged him. Harry had the distinct impression that the man didn't like to be around him, despite the fact that Snape seemed to think the Potions teacher had taken an interest in him.
Watching Snape drink from the goblet, it occurred to Harry that this was probably what Hermione had talked about - the potion he had to drink to prevent the venom from spreading.
"Now, let us talk. There will be no further interruptions," said Snape as he pointed his wand and locked the door.
Snape sounded almost cordial, but his looking at Harry as if he were about to hear some earth-shattering information, was disconcerting. Harry had to stifle a snort. He was about to rock the man's world, and not in a good way, either.
Everything in Harry was screaming for him to get up and leave. How could he do this? But he had to. Reaching into the pocket of his robe, he pulled out the letter from his mother. He felt himself shaking. He had to do this. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed and held out the letter in his hand. He had contemplated reading it aloud, but he knew there was no way he could do that in front of Snape.
"Yo-you should read this." Snape grasped the letter and looked at Harry. Harry nodded, knowing Snape had noticed him shaking. "Just read it." Oh Merlin.
"Are you feeling unwell, Mr. Potter?"
Harry shook his head. What else could he do?
"Please, read it." Never in his life had Harry been so nervous, or so near tears without allowing them. He began to stand, to run out of the room, but instead he shut his eyes, awaiting the inevitable tirade. His hands were clutching the edges of the stool, his knuckles white.
Hearing a gasp, Harry forced his eyes open. Snape was still reading the letter, but his hands were trembling, much worse than usual.
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No, there was no way this could be possible, absolutely not…but, it was Lily's handwriting, and she would never have written such a thing had it been untrue. He had a son? No. Severus begged for this not to be true, pleaded that no one could be this cruel. He of course knew there had been someone this cruel. He had served under him and, at one time, he had even believed in him. Now Severus wished the man was alive again so he could kill him and show him how merciless his former servant could be.
"How did this letter find its way into your possession, Mr. Potter?"
"My mum had it in a vault at Gringotts."
"You look nothing like me, Potter."
"I am aware of that, sir."
"Come with me." Severus saw the confusion on Harry's face, and there was a small part of him that felt bad for the boy. "If this is indeed true, then we shall find out."
Unfortunately, Severus needed to take his potions before he did anything else; his shaking was becoming noticeably worse, and his muscles were beginning to cramp.
"First I must take my potions, and then we shall see about what this letter says."
Severus called a house-elf and had his potions brought to him. Drinking them all, he closed his eyes for a few seconds, and only reopened them when he began to feel better.
"Very well, follow me."
----------
Calm. Snape was sounding much too calm, much too detached, and Harry did not wish to go anywhere with him, but he followed him, and when he realised where they were headed, a chill ran through him. When they stopped, Snape knocked on the door, and when it opened, he turned and beckoned Harry in, then followed him.
Harry sat in a chair Snape pointed to, and stared straight ahead. There was little doubt why they had come to Flitwick's office, and it terrified Harry. He heard Snape and Flitwick speaking, but all he could think about was that he was about to see what he looked like underneath the charm his mother had performed on him. Harry wanted to protest, to say no way was he doing this. What if he couldn't look like himself ever again?
"Harry?"
Harry forced himself to calm down and to look at Flitwick, who was looking at him worriedly, just as Snape had done earlier. All he could do was nod.
"Professor Snape wants to reverse the charm, but this is up to you. I can tell you that what the letter says is the truth, because it was I who helped your mother perform the complicated charm."
It perhaps should have upset Harry to know Flitwick had been in on this secret, but it didn't. What he was surprised about was that the Charms teacher seemed to have no qualms regarding talking about it. It seemed only logical that his mum would have asked Flitwick to keep what they had done a secret. Yes, this was Snape, and the man was his father…probably, but even so, Flitwick could treat the situation with a bit more respect.
"My mum wrote that letter, Professor," Harry said as he turned to look directly into Snape's eyes. "If you don't believe what she wrote, then that is not my fault, just as it is not my fault any of this is happening. My mum wanted me to look like James Potter, so until the charm fades or does whatever it's going to do, you'll just have to take my mum's word for it."
Snape glanced at Flitwick.
"I have a right to know the truth if he is my son."
"As I have already said, the letter is legitimate, and Severus, you are not the only one in this situation. Lily struggled with her decision to implement this complicated charm, because she knew that one day all of this would be discovered, and she knew people would be hurt. I see she was not mistaken in her assumptions."
Standing, Harry gathered his composure and forced himself to look back at Snape.
"It's all about you, isn't it? You want to see what I look like, to see if I look like you. You want to see your son, and you want to disrupt my life. But you refuse to tell me anything about my mother, and you have always acted like you don't think I'm worth the dirt on my trainers, yet you found me that night because you thought I would make certain you were safe. So you seek me out when it's convenient for you. I guess you were only using me; is that it?"
Snape did not respond -- his face impassive as ever. Harry turned towards Flitwick.
"Why haven't I changed, Professor?"
"I don't rightly know, Mr. Potter, but it could be that when Voldemort took some of your blood, it reinforced the properties of the charm your mother and I cast."
Harry nodded. It made sense, or as much sense as any of this made.
----------
Harry went straight to Hermione, asking her if there was any way he could see what he would look like without reversing the charm. It sounded futile, but Harry was desperate. The following day, after hours of looking through every known book on charms that Hogwarts had, Ginny found a possible solution. It was somewhat complicated, but after studying it carefully, Hermione said she could do it. A couple of hours later, the three found themselves in the Prefects' bathroom.
"Are you certain that you want to do this?" asked Hermione.
"Yeah."
----------
Severus sat by the lake, the only light, the moon and stars. Was Harry Potter his son? Severus did not want it to be so, and he had been furious and in complete denial; he could not grasp how Lily had made such a decision, knowing how much she would be hurting him. Hadn't he deserved to know he had a son? Yes, he had all but loathed the boy for seven years, but had he known -- had Lily told him -- then Severus would have known he had a son, and he would have treated him accordingly. He would have never returned to the Dark Lord, and he would have raised Harry with love. No, Severus had not been reared in a loving household, but he would have done the best he could have for his son.
Severus had loathed Harry because the boy had been the eleven-year-old that should have been his son, not James's.
Harry Potter was Severus Snape's son. Harry Potter was his son.
Severus stood and looked towards the castle, shaking his head, his entire body trembling worse than ever.
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Sitting by himself eating breakfast, Harry stabbed at his eggs. This was a nightmare. There was no way he could ignore Snape, and he knew what the man wanted. It was likely Snape cared less that he had a son; he just wanted to see what a son of his would look like.
He looked like Snape.
He was Harry Potter.
Letting his fork fall to the plate, Harry stood and departed the Great Hall. He needed to talk to Ron, but that was not possible. Instead, he settled for a walk to Hagrid's. As always, Hagrid was happy to see him, but Harry could tell that Hagrid was worried about him, probably thinking that he was still upset about Fred, which he was -- now he just had another situation to worry about. Harry really wished he could tell Hagrid what was bothering him, but that was not a conversation the two would be having.
"What's got you all hot and bothered, Harry?"
"Nothing. I just miss Ron, is all." Even to Harry that sounded weak, but thankfully Hagrid did not call him on it.
"He's bein' a good brother and is helpin' George. "'Ow is he doin'?"
"Not too good."
Harry stayed for a while longer. Thankfully the conversation changed to happier subjects, and by the time Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower, he was not feeling as down as he had been.
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Harry sat on the stool in Snape's office, staring at his reflection in the mirror. It was who he was. He was Harry James Potter, son of James and Lily Potter. He wasn't anything wonderful to look at, but he liked being short, and he liked his messy hair. He liked that he wore glasses like his dad had. He liked that Harry Potter was the boy in the mirror.
How could he do this? How could he give up whom he had known for his entire life? But he was going to lose this identity sooner or later, regardless of what he wanted, so was it better to do it now and not have to wait? No, it wasn't.
Snape walked into the office. Harry stared ahead at his reflection, watching as Snape retrieved several phials, then as he downed the contents before turning to look at Harry, an unreadable expression on his face.
"Harry?"
Harry sighed. So he was Harry now, and no longer Potter. It was unsurprising, but it made him angry to think that as Harry Potter, he had been someone Snape hated not so long ago. Now he was Snape's son, and Snape's feelings had changed. Yes, Harry knew that was expected, but it seemed unfair. What had Harry ever done to the man? It had been his mother who had hurt him, not Harry. It was almost comical how a few days earlier, Harry could have cared less that Snape hated him and had treated him so harshly. Now that the man appeared to be his father, everything had changed, and no matter how much he had always wanted his father to be alive, he hadn't envisioned this outcome, and he didn't know if he could ever accept it. He belonged to James Potter, not Severus Snape.
"Do you want to see who I look like?" Harry watched through the mirror as Snape stared at him, his mouth slightly open, his usual blank or dour expression absent.
"You do not need to do this, Harry. I need no proof. You mother composed that letter and she would not lie."
Snape looked withdrawn and his hands were still trembling rather badly, but his voice sounded very different - it was soft and sad. Harry didn't know what to do.
"This is who I am. If I am your son, then I am your son, but this is who I am, Professor. I'm gonna change one day, but I want to be the me I know for as long as I can. Can you understand?" Harry was terrified, but not for himself, oddly enough. He was petrified of hurting Snape, and that was such a weird feeling to have. But Snape had been through so much. Harry was going to hurt him, but he couldn't help it.
Closing his eyes, Harry concentrated, probably more than he ever had before, and repeated the words Hermione had given him. When he opened his eyes and looked down, he was still himself, but when he looked in the mirror, he was a younger version of Severus Snape and Lily Potter combined. His hair and eyes were as black as Snape's, but his nose and mouth were his mother's. His hair was short, and he was the same height as Snape. When he smiled, it was his mother's smile that Harry remembered from the Mirror of Erised. Looking at Snape in the mirror, Harry said nothing, just watched as the man looked into the mirror, seeing his son for the very first time. It was such a private moment and Harry felt as if he was invading Snape's privacy.
Feeling his strength weakening, Harry withdrew the magic and his reflection as Harry Potter returned. Snape was still staring at him.
"I have a son."
"Yeah, I guess you do."
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Severus sat on his bed, staring ahead at nothing. He had done so many horrible things in his life, and he had deserved to die when Nagini bit him. There were so many sins he needed to atone for, and the biggest one of all was the way he had treated Harry. Even if Harry was not his son, which he was, there had been no provocation for such childish treatment on Severus's part. He was the adult, yet he had acted worse than a child. He had hated his own son for almost seven years.
Getting out of bed, Severus walked to the bathroom and washed his face. Looking into the mirror, he looked at himself, and loathing for himself crept up. How would he feel if someone else were asking him to change his identity? Snarky, hateful, withdrawn and ugly -- those attributes were the person that Severus Snape was. If he woke up tomorrow morning and saw another person staring back at him when he looked into his mirror, he would miss the reflection that was staring back at him tonight.
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Harry started to walk into the classroom, but stopped when he heard voices. Snape and Dennis were sitting on Snape's desk, talking. Harry almost did a double take. Backing out of the room, he shook his head.
When Harry walked in ten minutes later, Dennis was seated in his usual desk, and Snape was at his desk, marking papers.
"Ready for a game of Exploding Snap, Dennis?" Harry asked. Dennis shook his head.
"Professor Snape told me he thinks I am ready for practical lessons now; he says I've improved."
"I think my exact words, Mr. Creevey, were: if you applied yourself in your practical work, you would improve, but if you continue to appease Mr. Potter's need to flaunt his talents, then I daresay you will never improve."
And it had been said in all seriousness. Harry glared at the man, and then looked at Dennis.
"I think we'll wait until tomorrow evening to begin your practical exercises. We could meet at the same time. Is that okay?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, tomorrow night at seven then. Why don't you read chapter twelve and write me a foot-long essay on the benefits of defence, and how the lack of defence can hurt us."
When Dennis left, Harry sat in the recently vacated desk and looked at Snape, wishing the man was easier to talk to.
"You are an open-book, Harry. You have questions? As you can see from the volume of essays that await marking, I am not going anywhere for the next few hours. What is on your mind?"
"Will you please tell me about my mother?"
"No."
"But--"
"But nothing, Harry. I said this was off-limits, and I meant it. Son of mine or not, your mother is not something I wish to discuss."
Harry stood and felt himself shaking. "My mother was not a something. She was my mother, and she loved me. Voldemort killed her because you told your master about the prophecy. She didn't deserve to die. She deserved to raise me and see what I turned out to be. Whether I was your son or James's, it didn't matter. She would have loved me no matter what. It's not fair that you got to know her, and I never did. It's just not fair."
Harry had meant every word, but he knew he shouldn't have said what he had about the prophecy; he could see that his words had affected Snape because the pale injured hand was trembling worse than ever. But, Harry was so mad, and he wanted to hurt Snape. Turning towards the door and away from the piercing stare of Snape, Harry walked out of the room and slammed the door, then made his way up to Gryffindor Tower and his room. Not five minutes later, Ginny entered and sat on his bed.
"Want to talk about it?"
"He won't talk about my mum with me, Gin. It's not like I want to know a lot, I just want to know about her, is that so bad?" Harry felt the soft fingers as they were placed under his chin, and his head turned to meet Ginny's eyes.
"Professor Snape loved your mum, Harry, and I think it hurts him to talk about her."
"Yeah, she was my mum, and it is hard for me to think that I never got to know her and other people did. He's my father, for Merlin's sake. Why won't he talk to me? Why, Gin?"
"You told me that you saw memories of Snape crying, yeah?"
"Yeah. So?"
"Tell me, Harry, what is your absolute worst memory?"
Harry thought about this for a few minutes. There were several that came to mind, but there was one that haunted him.
"Fred dying." Harry watched as a tear began to fall down Ginny's face.
"When you are alone, and when you think about that night and what happened to Fred, don't you cry? And don't say you don't because boys aren't supposed to cry. Remember, I've seen you cry."
Harry nodded.
"Harry, it's so recent for you. Snape lost your mum a long time ago. Don't you think it eats away at him that she died and he had something to do with it? Snape would do anything for you, and don't laugh. He is your father, and anything you asked of him now, if it were in his power, he would probably do it, but this one thing, sweetie, I don't think he can talk about your mum with you. I think it would be the undoing of him."
"He can cry in front of me, Gin. I wouldn't think anything of it. I just want to know what she was like. Is that so bad?" Ginny pulled him into a hug, and Harry held on as if Ginny were his lifeline.
"When Snape is ready, he'll talk to you. Don't push him, Harry."
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It was the first Hogsmeade weekend. Harry, Hermione and Ron sat in the Three Broomsticks, sipping on butterbeers, talking about the joke shop and what Hogwarts was like post-Voldemort. It was so nice talking; it was like old times.
When Harry told Ron about Snape being his father, Ron merely shrugged his shoulders, telling Harry how sorry he was, joking with him, and agreeing with Hermione and Ginny, who had come over to their table, that Snape would talk to Harry when he was ready. Harry had an idea that Hermione had already told Ron, but he was happy she had because Harry didn't think he could have dealt with Ron reacting any other way than he had.
Later that evening when Harry entered his room after returning from Hogsmeade, there was a letter on his bed. Harry opened it and saw Snape's scrawl. Lying across the bed, he began to read.
Harry, your mother was my best friend for five years. We loved each other and told one another our darkest and deepest secrets. She was beautiful and outgoing, yet she chose me -- Severus Snape. I would have done anything for Lily, Harry, but I failed her. When she did ask me to do something for her, I failed and it cost me her friendship, and later, your parents, their lives. Your mother never treated me less than wonderful and I repaid her by having her killed. Harry, I killed your mother. The one person I loved, I killed. I want you to know her as I did. I want to tell you about her dreams and what she thought about children. There is so much I want to tell you, but it hurts. Please understand. I am trying. I have a son with Lily Potter! I am so sorry that the Dark Lord did such a horrific thing to your parents, but I have a son. That scares me, Harry, but I do want to get to know you, and I would like you to know me. I just do not know if that can ever happen. Please understand. - SS
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Three months into term found Harry sitting on Snape's desk, watching Dennis as he produced his first Patronus, which was a lamb, a profoundly perfect representation of the fifth year. It was currently making its way around the room, and Dennis was grinning from ear to ear. Harry could hardly blame him, remembering the first time he had produced his Patronus - it had been such an overwhelming feeling.
"Well done, Dennis. I knew you could do it."
"Bloody brilliant, that was. And they can really protect you from Dementors?"
"Yep, they can. They are also used to send messages. That useful bit of information is not usually taught until seventh year." Harry wondered if he had been taught about using Patronus's for sending messages in a normal setting during lessons, if there would have been Patronus's running rampant around Hogwarts; it was certainly an amusing image.
"Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"I think I understand now. Thanks for helping me."
Harry smiled and stood, picking up the book beside him. Dennis would probably never excel in Defence, but Harry thought the younger boy had probably taught him more than Harry had taught Dennis. Trust was important in all aspects of life, and instilling trust and belief in others was important. Through helping Dennis, Harry had also discovered that his returning to Hogwarts had not been a mistake. He had made a difference in someone else's life. Oh and yes, he had also discovered that Severus Snape was his father.
After Dennis left, there was a knock at the door. Opening it. Harry found Slughorn standing there with a goblet -- Snape's.
"Is Professor Snape here?"
"No, sir. He's in a meeting with Professor McGonagall."
"He must drink all of this as soon as he returns."
"Yes, sir."
Slughorn gone, Harry set the goblet on Snape's desk and sat in the desk he had adopted as his own. He had planned on reading the latest essay Dennis had written, but instead his thoughts were on Snape, and his health. How sick was he? Was the poisonous venom going to slowly kill him as the curse and poison had done to Dumbledore?
Hearing the door open, Harry looked up and watched as Snape made his way to his desk, picked up the goblet and drank the potion.
"Why are you staring at me, Harry?"
"Sorry, sir."
"It is not pleasant-tasting, but along with my other potions, it allows me to maintain some semblance of a life, so I can hardly complain."
Snape was about to mark papers because he had just put on his glasses. Harry thought this was probably his cue to leave.
"Sir?"
"Severus, Harry," said an exasperated-sounding Snape.
And the man sounded as if this wasn't the first time he had asked Harry to address him as such. Harry withheld the remark he wanted to make.
"Severus?"
"Yes?"
"Will you have to drink that potion for the rest of your life?"
Snape looked up and removed his glasses, setting them on the desk.
"Nagini's venom has filled my blood with an agent that renders my oxygen levels low. Without the potion, I would die, Harry."
"So if you take it, you'll be okay?"
"I have lived this long, so it is probable you won't be able to get rid of me that easily."
Harry frowned. His worrying about Snape was still such an odd sensation, but the man was his father, so Harry knew this was not something that was going to change - he didn't want anything bad to happen to the man who had already been through so much.
"Harry, I don't plan on going anywhere, but I refuse to sit here and tell you I am going to live for a long time, when I have no idea when my time to die will come."
Who knew Snape cared?
"I'm gonna go meet Ginny; see you tomorrow." Harry turned and walked to the door.
"Harry?"
Harry turned around.
"Yes?"
"I plan on being around for a long time. As disagreeable as I am, and as much as I would have been an ill-prepared father, I rather think I'd very much like the opportunity to be a grandfather, no matter my current disposition regarding this new revelation."
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Severus stood at the door, watching Harry write his essay for Charms. On the desk next to Harry's, Severus saw a stack of parchment, and smiled. Harry really did want to be an Auror, and he had not complained about all the extra work he had been given. Severus almost felt bad that everyone had given Harry such a heavy work-load, but he knew Harry was one of those people who needed to be busy. So much had happened, and although time was a salve, it wasn't a healer. Harry still fixated on Fred's death, and Severus had yet to find a way to help Harry deal with the latest loss he had suffered.
For obvious reasons, Severus had been hesitant to bring up Fred with Harry; it had been Severus who had cursed George's ear off and, even though the curse had been sent to prevent Lupin's death, it was still a permanent condition, and Severus felt remorse for what he had done. Regardless of his own guilt and shame, he would force himself to talk to Harry about Fred; it was his duty to do so.
It was still difficult, realising that he had a son, but Severus had come to terms with the fact that he had to change, for Harry. He was trying, but he did not know the first thing about how he needed to act or what he needed to do. Fortunately, his son was an adult, but still, Severus did feel as if he should try to be there for Harry. One thing he had decided was that he did not need to see the boy Lily had given birth to. Harry was the boy sitting a few feet from him, and Severus was fine with that. He knew that at some point, his son would change, but he was not looking forward to that so much anymore, because the boy he would change into was not who Harry wanted to be.
Walking in, Severus sat down across from Harry and cleared his throat.
"I thought you could use a break; I brought you something." Severus reached into his cloak and took out the photograph he had gone to retrieve. "I think this belongs to you." When he handed it to Harry, the change in Harry's face was immediate, and Severus saw the sadness in those green eyes, even as a grin spread across his face.
"Thank you, but you should keep it."
"No, it's yours, Harry. I have memorized it." And Severus had. All he needed to do was close his eyes and he saw Lily, and he could even hear her laughing and speaking to James and Harry. He knew she had been happy. He had always wanted her to be happy.
"Thank you for always looking out for me."
Severus nodded, allowing the thanks Harry had given him to wash over him. A promise he had made long ago had seemed senseless after Lily had died, but now Severus thanked Merlin that he had continued his protection of Harry. He allowed a small smile as he watched his son study the picture.
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Harry sat by the lake, looking at the smiling face of his mother. She was looking at something -- something which Harry knew was him and his dad because he had the other half of the photograph in his room, still in the pouch that Hagrid had given him last year. Harry could not take his eyes off of the picture. His mum was so pretty, and she looked so happy. The three of them had been happy, Harry had no doubt about that, and he was sad that he had no memories of those days. He had no memories of his mum or dad, but he had a father now, and as confusing as it all was, Harry wanted to believe that he and Severus would be okay.
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Christmas was three days away, and Harry and Ginny were helping Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen. It was so nice being at the Burrow for Christmas, but it was bittersweet because Fred wasn't there. George and Ron had arrived a few hours earlier, and seeing George without Fred was so sad. Seeing George made Harry forget about his minor problems.
"Harry, dear, what is Professor Snape doing for Christmas?"
"Erm, I don't know. Probably staying at Hogwarts."
"Why don't you invite him to have Christmas dinner with us? We are going to have plenty and I want to let him know that he will always be welcome here."
Harry's heart swelled; they were doing this because of him. Severus Snape was a difficult man who found it nearly impossible to get along with anyone, but the Weasleys were going to overlook that fact because Harry was the man's son. It had been less than four months, and Severus certainly had continued his snarky ways that drove Harry mad, but Harry was beginning to think that having the man in his life might not be as horrible as he had once thought.
That evening, Harry used Pig to owl Severus, and asked him to spend Christmas day with them. Much to Harry's surprise, Severus accepted. Harry wanted everything to go well.
For the next two days, everyone cleaned and prepared, Harry and George cleaning out the attic where the ghoul had reestablished residence. Harry never mentioned Fred, but George did, often. Ron had written Harry a few months earlier, telling him that George talked about his dead twin constantly. It bothered Harry, but he tried his best to listen. He knew that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley did not speak of Fred much at all, and that was not healthy either, but it was difficult, hearing George talk about his twin in the past tense -- it made it all too real for Harry.
Christmas Eve found all of the kids around the table, talking, when George began reminiscing about Fred, and how last Christmas had been so tense because Ron, Harry and Hermione had been away. Harry was close to breaking for so many reasons, so he left, not being able to face it any longer. He left the Burrow and found a secluded spot where he could think. He watched the sun set and the moon become brighter.
"Harry?"
"I want to be alone." Harry watched as Severus sat beside him.
"Harry, Fred is gone, just as Lupin is gone, just as Nymphadora is gone, just as Colin is gone. We lost some really fine people that night, and the losses will be felt until we die. It is normal to feel sad that they are gone, and it is also normal to talk about them; it helps to keep them alive in our memories."
Harry glared.
"Like you do with my mum?" Harry was not playing fair, but he was upset and angry. Severus walked away and left Harry to his thoughts.
When Harry walked into the house a few hours later, Severus was seated at the kitchen table, talking to Molly. She was telling him something about how everything would work out. Harry doubted that. He entered the kitchen and looked at Severus.
"I'm sorry. I didn't have any right to say that. It was unfair of me."
"Harry, please sit down; we need to talk," said Severus, his voice sounding resigned.
Harry watched as Mrs. Weasley left the room, and then he sat across from Severus.
"I'm listening." Harry wiped at his eyes and cleared his throat.
"Your mum's dream was to open a book shop in Diagon Alley. We would spend hours talking about it. She was passionate about reading, and no one could dissect a book or a poem like your mother. I've not met anyone to match her passion, and I doubt I ever will."
Harry nodded. He didn't like to read so much. It was somewhat disconcerting, since both his mum and Snape loved reading.
"I don't like to read much. Pathetic, yeah?"
"With your Muggle family treating you as they did, it is unsurprising you do not enjoy reading, Harry. It is never too late to start."
Harry didn't miss the look in Snape's eyes -- it was a suggestion, one Snape would no doubt nurture.
"Thanks for telling me this. It helps to know what my mum liked to do. Don't know why, but it does."
"You don't need a reason for wanting to know more about your mother; she was an amazing woman. I'll tell you more later. For now, Mr. Weasley appears to be trying to get your attention."
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"Severus, Harry is like a son to us and we want what is best for him. We know what really happened last year, and Arthur and I are firmly in your corner. We wish you all the happiness, but if you hurt Harry, you will have eight people standing in line to make certain you pay for making him sad. He has been through so much."
"Molly and Arthur, I have no idea what is going to happen. Harry and I seem to be doing fine at the moment, but as was just proved to me, we have a long way to go. Harry is an adult and can make his own choices now. Whether he allows me to be a part of his life is his decision, and I will not influence that. You are his family; you have been there for him, and I know you will continue to do so in future. You have my word that I will never hurt him."
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Harry sat on the camp bed in Ron's room and looked through a book as Ron continued to ask him questions about Hogwarts. This -- the two of them talking about nothing important -- was what Harry had missed the most. For the majority of term, Harry had kept to himself or hung around with Hermione and Ginny. It had been more difficult than Harry had thought it would be, being back in the castle, and the memories had plagued his sleep. He and Ron together again was like old times, and Harry didn't think anything would ever match the fun he had with Ron. No matter that Severus Snape was his father, and no matter that Harry was confused about so many different things, sitting here with Ron made it all seem bearable.
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"Happy Christmas, Harry."
Opening his eyes, Harry blinked a few times and rolled over and pulled the duvet over his head, but the cover was yanked off him.
"Wake up and open your presents."
"Gah, Ron, you sound like a little kid." Harry sat up and yawned, looking at the end of his bed at his pile of presents.
"On Christmas morning, I am a kid."
Harry grinned. So was he.
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Severus sat at the table, looking at everyone around him. Sitting in the Weasleys' dining room, eating Christmas dinner with them was very different from what Severus had thought he would be doing for Christmas. He knew it was because of Harry, and that made him prouder than anything. He had no illusions about what people thought of him, but knowing that these people loved Harry enough to invite Severus to their home to share Christmas dinner with them made Severus smile, something he was not known to do often.
Harry seemed happy, talking to George as he passed the mashed potatoes to Arthur, and Severus marveled at how seamlessly Harry fit in with the Weasleys. It was easy to discern the love they had for his son. It was difficult to think that Harry had been through so much in his eighteen years, but Severus knew Harry was a better person for it, and he was so happy that the Weasleys had been there to help him through much of it.
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Harry was having more fun than he had had in a long time. He and George were playing Exploding Snap, and Ginny and Ron were playing wizard chess, all of them telling jokes and trying to figure out what new invention George and Ron should make.
"So, you still plan on becoming an Auror, Harry?" Ron asked.
"Yeah, if my marks are good enough. I seem to be doing okay. Slughorn is a bit odd this year. I don't think he likes me so much now. I don't know, maybe he blames me for Dumbledore dying. It is odd, but Severus has helped me more with Potions than Slughorn. Last month he even bought me a set of research books that have helped a lot."
"So you're okay with him being your dad?" George asked.
"He's not my dad, George. I only have one dad, and that was James Potter. Severus is my father, and yes, I am more than okay with it." And it was the truth. There were so many things wrong in the world that were so much more important than what he was facing, so why should Harry be upset with something that he had no control over? He had accepted Severus into his life, and earlier when everyone had been eating Christmas dinner, Harry knew that Severus and he would be fine. They would probably never be as close as most fathers and sons were, but they would be as close as Severus and Harry could be.
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As soon as he awoke, Harry knew there was something different. Taking a deep breath, he stood and looked down at his body, and then looked over at Ron's bed, thankful he was still asleep; this was one of those moments Harry wanted to experience alone.
He was going to be okay. Whatever he looked like, he was going to be the same as he was before. Walking into the bathroom, he looked into the mirror and saw the boy he had been born to be, staring back at him. It was not the person Harry knew himself to be, but it was him -- it was Harry.
He would always be Harry Potter, no matter what he looked like.
Epilogue
Harry stood back and looked at the tree.
"There's something missing. What could it be?" Harry asked in an exaggerated voice.
"I know, Daddy. The star -- the star needs to go on top."
"Right you are, Colin. Why don't you let Avum* help you place it where it goes?" Harry smiled as Severus picked up his grandson and handed the star to him.
There was still a noticeable tremor in Severus's hands as he held the star, but it was nothing near as bad as it had been in the months following Severus's attack. For the most part, Severus was now able to function as he had before Nagini bit him, but Harry could tell that fatigue plagued Severus more each year; it had not stopped Severus from leading a normal life, however, and it never would.
Harry grinned at Severus, and then at his son, who was looking expectantly at his grandfather, one of his little hands playing with Severus's hair, the other, holding the star.
"Now Colin Potter will place the star on top, and our Christmas tree will be complete," said Severus as he lifted Colin so he could reach the top.
When his son was back on the ground, Harry picked him up and looked at the tree, then at Severus. "The two of you did very well; it's the best tree we've ever had."
"Daddy, the tree is green, just like my eyes."
"That they are, and you have the most beautiful eyes in the world, you do. You look so like your grandmother Lily."
"Do I, Avum?"
"You do. Your eyes are exactly as hers were -- they are the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. Your grandmother also had red hair just like you. Your nose is almost exactly as hers was. Oh, and you have the most amazing smile, the same one she had -- brightens the room."
Setting his son down, Harry turned to Severus, and there was a moment that passed between them. Nothing was said, but Harry knew what Severus was thinking. Once upon a time, not so long ago, Harry had been the one with those eyes, and they had been the last thing Severus had requested to see before he died. Those eyes were no longer green, but black, and as much as he and Severus had needed them to be green then, now those same eyes being black seemed so much more important.
Returning from his thoughts, Harry looked from his father to his son, and marveled at how much his life had changed in the past ten years. He had been through a lot in his life, but it had all been worth it. His family no longer consisted of James, Lily and Harry, but he did have a family. He had married the most wonderful person in the world, he had a son who was everything Harry had ever wanted, and he had a father who loved him. It was this last member who continued to show Harry how love and acceptance could change a person.
When Harry looked into the mirror these days, he was a younger version of Severus Snape and Lily Potter combined, and he was happy. To be sure, there were days he lamented his lost messy black hair and his need for glasses, but what he had learned and was still learning was that appearances were not everything. It really was what was within that mattered, and inside Harry was that little boy who had been riding a broomstick a few inches off the floor, his mum and dad looking on, proud; he was the eleven year old boy who had arrived at Hogwarts with no idea what was to come; he was the seventeen-year-old who had faced death and survived; he was the eighteen-year-old who had found out Severus Snape was his father.