Entry tags:

ficlet, ivylady, rating: pg

Prompt Fic--Our Child
Title - Our Child
Author - ivylady
Rating - PG
Word Count - 1,560
Characters/Pairings - Harry/Severus
Warnings - none

Disclaimer - I only own the plot. I do not own the character, places, names, or anything else associated with Harry Potter. I make no money off this story and mean no offense.
Summary - Written in response to prompt #4 from faynia: While on her deathbed, a mother tells her son that his real father is a famous celebrity.

“Is Harry Potter here?” the young boy asked.

Severus stared at the child—he’d never seen him before. He looked to be about eight years old, yet he stood with hunched shoulders and haunted eyes that made him look much older than his years.

“Yes he is. How may I help you?” Severus wondered.

“I need to see him,” the child whispered. “It’s important.”

Severus gazed at the child for a moment before stepping back and opening the door, “Very well then.”

The little boy walked into the house and waited for Severus to close the door and show him where to go. Severus inclined his head and the boy followed after him. The Potions Master contemplated sitting the child in the living room, but thought better of it. The little boy’s sad expression and disheveled appearance told him that the child could do with some comforting. With that idea in mind, Severus led him to the kitchen.

“Sit here,” Severus instructed, pulling out a chair.

The little boy looked confused at his surroundings—he wasn’t used to being in anyone’s kitchen other than his own and the sheer amount of food overwhelmed him. The cupboards and pantry were overflowing with all manner of dried, canned, refrigerated, and frozen food. He couldn’t stop his eyes from bulging.

“Would you like some hot chocolate and biscuits?” Severus asked quietly, taking in the boy’s reaction to the kitchen.

The child thought about it for a minute, and seemed ready to reject the offer, so Severus interjected, “It will be a moment before Harry comes downstairs. I would be a poor host if you were to wait without refreshment.”

“Yes, please,” the boy said after studying Severus for a minute.

“What’s your name?” Severus asked as he prepared the boy’s snack.

“Michael. Michael Stuart, sir,” the boy replied.

“Well Michael, I’m Mr. Snape,” Severus responded, plating the biscuits.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Snape,” the child said with a hesitant smile.

“Likewise,” Severus told him.

Severus gave the boy his hot chocolate and biscuits then patted him on the head, “Wait here—I’ll be right back.”

The child shook his head then tore into his food with relish. Severus smiled and left the kitchen.

Severus peeked into his bedroom and saw the relaxed form of Harry Potter sleeping on the bed. He knew that his partner had been tired the past few weeks, as the younger man was working on a particularly difficult case. Master Healer Harry Potter was in high demand, and not just for his exploits against Voldemort. Harry was a truly gifted healer, curing ailments that others had designated incurable. No case was ever too difficult, but this latest patient might prove to be his undoing. Even with the specialty potions Severus supplied him, he could not improve the young woman’s health. It had caused much anguish and many sleepless nights on Harry’s part.

Severus had done all he could to ease his husband’s burden—cooking, cleaning, child-rearing—but Harry liked to help at home as well and he couldn’t get his lover to rest. Finally, with the children off at the zoo with the Granger-Weasley brats, Severus had convinced Harry to take a nap. Now it seemed he had to wake the man from his much-needed rest.

“Harry,” Severus called quietly; Harry didn’t move.

“Harry,” Severus said again, louder.

Harry heard Severus’s voice and turned toward his husband, “Severus? What is it?”

“There’s a young boy in our kitchen asking for you,” Severus told him.

“What?” Harry wondered, sleepily wiping his eyes. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Severus told him. “He says his name is Michael Stuart. He looks to be seven or eight years old. He seems rather poor, as his clothes are frayed and he appears underfed.”

“Damn. Well I’d better go down and see him,” Harry stated.

“Fix up yourself first,” Severus recommended. “I’ll keep him company while he waits.”

Severus descended the stairs to check on their young guest.



“Harry will be down shortly,” Severus told Michael.

“Thank you, sir,” the little boy said, staring at his empty plate.

“Can you tell me why you need to see Harry?” Severus asked, fixing the young boy another plate of biscuits and another cup of hot chocolate.

“My mother,” the boy choked up, “my mother, she said he’s my father.”

The boy dissolved in tears and Severus stared at him bewildered. He knew for a fact that Harry wasn’t this child’s father as they had been together for twelve years, but he couldn’t tell the distraught child that. Putting the food down on the table, Severus rubbed the boy’s back and patted his head.

“It is all right, child,” he murmured, knowing that whatever was wrong with the boy would come out in time.

“No it isn’t!” the child cried. “My mother’s dead and I’m all alone. She told me that Harry Potter is my father so he’s got to be! He’s just got to be.”

At that moment, Harry walked into the kitchen. Severus could tell from the expression on his face that his husband had heard everything. Harry looked grim but determined, and Severus resigned himself to adopting another child. The little boy finished crying and wiped his face with a napkin. When he looked up at Severus, he saw Harry standing behind him.

“Hi Michael,” Harry said as crouched to the boy’s level. “I’m Harry Potter.”

“Are you,” the boy stuttered, “are you my dad?”

Harry hated that he couldn’t be what the boy wanted. The hope in his eyes was apparent, and he would have to dash his dreams. He didn’t know why the child’s mother had told him that Harry was his father, but he knew he couldn’t let the poor boy hold onto a dream. Steeling himself, Harry took a deep breath before answering him.

“I’m sorry Michael, but I’m not,” Harry told him in as gentle a voice as he could.

“You’re lying! My mother said you were,” Michael argued.

“She must have been confused, Michael. I’m, well, I don’t like girls, so I would have never done anything with a girl to create you,” Harry tried to explain.

“So you’re not my father,” Michael whispered, eyes bloodshot.

“No Michael, I’m not. Would you like to tell me what happened to your mother?” Harry asked him.

Michael sat and told Harry and Severus all about his mother’s—Artemis Stuart—illness. He told how she started feeling tired all the time, then developed a terrible cough. He said she coughed all the time and sometimes blood came up. At this information, Severus and Harry exchanged sad looks. Artemis sounded like she had tuberculosis, a particularly nasty ailment for a witch or wizard to acquire as it attacked the magical core as well as the lungs. If she’d contacted them, they might have been able to help her. Michael continued his story, telling them how his mother didn’t go to the healer because they didn’t have the money for it. The spouses looked at each other over his head, silently conferring. With a nod, Harry accepted Severus’s decision and decided to talk to Michael.

“Michael, do you know of anyone else who might be your father?” Harry asked.

“No, Mr. Potter. My mom only told me you were my father right before she died,” Michael told them.

“Does she have your birth papers somewhere at your house?” Harry wondered.

“She gave me an envelope with some stuff,” the boy said, pulling the packet of papers from his tattered cloak.

Harry looked over the information, finding the birth certificate. Under the father section, it had listed “Unknown” so Harry knew that there was little hope of finding Michael’s birth father. At least it would make the adoption easier.

“Would you like to live with us, me and Severus?” asked Harry.

“Really? I can?” the boy exclaimed incredulously. “But you said you aren’t my father. Why would you want to keep me?”

“Why wouldn’t we? You’re a smart lad, Michael, and Harry and I have the resources to care for you,” Severus said.

“We like you and don’t want you to be alone,” Harry added.

“I can stay?” the poor boy couldn’t believe that someone other than his mother wanted him; no one wanted to be his friend back home.

“You can stay,” Severus proclaimed most assuredly. “We have three other children, Michael, and they would love to have you as a brother.”

“Wow! Thanks, Mr. Snape,” Michael tightly hugged Severus.

“You’re most welcome, Michael,” Severus smiled.

Harry grinned at his husband. A decade ago, no one would believe him if he told them that Severus Snape smiled and hugged children. His friends were concerned when he decided to adopt children with his husband, but Harry had no such qualms. He knew his Severus was a loving soul, he just decided not to show it to most people.

Harry looked at Michael. The boy would fit into their family just fine. Their oldest, Adrian was ten and their twin daughters were six. Michael was right between them in age, and Adrian would be delighted to have another boy in the house. They would work out the logistics later, but seeing the joy on Michael’s face, Harry knew that he and Severus had made the right decision to make Michael one of their children.