In Blood Only by EM Snape
Past Featured StorySummary: Everyone is dismayed to learn Snape is Harry's father. Especially Snape and Harry.
Categories: Parental Snape > Biological Father Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Draco, Dumbledore, Hermione, Lucius, Remus, Ron, Tonks
Snape Flavour: None
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama
Media Type: None
Tags: Snape-meets-Dursleys
Takes Place: None
Warnings: Alcohol Use, Character Death, Torture
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 45 Completed: Yes Word count: 173775 Read: 400908 Published: 29 Jan 2005 Updated: 28 Aug 2006
Responsibility by EM Snape

He's all mine, now.

Once the shock of having completely misread the situation slipped away, Snape was aware of a vicious, possessive pleasure.

The competitor he'd imagined was no competitor at all. Lupin's claim to Harry hung by a thread, one Snape could easily snip.

If loyalty to James Potter motivated Lupin to remain by Harry's side, then Severus could rid himself- rid his son of the Marauders forever. Three words… three little words…

Harry would have no choice once he lost Lupin. Snape would be his only fatherly figure. There would be no more competition with others impeding upon his claim, no more watching his own progeny fix his hopes upon others…

But the thoughts stopped, because Severus was keen enough to recognize them for the delusions they were.

If Harry lost faith in Lupin, he would by no means invest it in someone else. If a figure he depended upon disappeared from his life, he would hardly rest his weight upon the next one, and certainly not upon Snape. Odds were, he would be even less likely to trust in the future.

Not that Severus even wanted the boy to see him that way, but still… it was his prerogative. He was Harry's biological father, after all, and it should be his choice free of outside influence not to be that father to his son-

This was not good.

It rather surprised Snape to realize it, but Lupin's presence was important. Snape loathed the man, but he had to begrudgingly acknowledge that Harry had formed some sort of attachment to the werewolf.

And it would kill the boy if he lost Lupin now.

He could reveal the boy's true parentage to Lupin, but something twisted inside him at the thought of crushing Harry so completely.

The realization didn't sit well with Severus. He appreciated the fine instincts of a Slytherin- that impulse to exploit every last advantage offered him. He didn't know where this consideration for Harry's feelings had come from, but he didn't like it. He didn't like that somehow he didn't want Harry to undergo the devastation that would be sure to arise if he took advantage of this situation to rid them of Lupin.

And for once, he wasn't certain by way of insult or comment just what to say to the damned werewolf.

"I believe it's time I left you to your wallowing," Snape remarked shortly.

Lupin nodded shakily, and Snape whipped around to get out before the man did something abhorrent like thank him, in which case Severus might not restrain his careful hold on his tongue.

He made a quick exit, feeling thrown.

He observed Harry from across the Great Hall that night, unsettled. Now that he thought about it, he rather preferred it when Remus Lupin was a competitor. With his new knowledge that Harry had essentially lost another staple figure in his life, there was this odd weight pressing on Severus's chest, as though there was something he needed to do... He raked furiously through his memory of the last few days, unable to remember any business to which he'd failed to attend.

But something nagged at the back of his thoughts, no matter how he tried to will it away.

* * *

His weekend was productive enough. Snape managed to reserve the Quidditch Pitch for the Slytherins, leaving the Gryffindors with odd hours here and there in which to prepare themselves for the upcoming match. The werewolf knocked over a vial of armadillo bile in the process of retrieving his wolfsbane, and was forced to visit the hospital wing when it spilled over his hands. And although Snape knew that technically he couldn't claim credit for that, he chose to anyway.

He even assigned Harry another bout of detention for hexing Draco in the hallway. Snape was fully aware the perpetrator had actually been Weasley, and it had been Harry who had inexplicably attempted to lift the Bloating Curse from Draco. But he'd been caught with his wand pointed at the rapidly ballooning Malfoy, and Harry was unwilling to let Weasley get into trouble by telling the truth. Weasley, in turn, refused to let Harry take the blame, so Snape took pleasure in assigning detention to them both.

While Weasley reported to Filch on Monday night, Harry unhappily trudged into the Potions classroom, rubbing his scar. Snape was pleased to note that the boy had stopped scratching, but the continued pain was a worrisome sign that the boy was no longer achieving even his middling success in Occlumency.

"I've been trying!" Harry objected over his cauldron when Snape confronted him. "It's not working anymore. I even snuck out to one of Filch's storage closets last night, and it's just not happening."

Snape shot him a reproving look, which Harry returned angrily.

"I can't believe you're annoyed about me sneaking out for this. You're the one who said I needed to master Occlumency. I thought it was top priority."

Snape let him off with a nasty look.

"Have you experienced any further visions?" he asked, changing subjects.

"A few," Harry said, leaning over to scrub a particularly tough spot. "I wrote them down and gave them to Dumbledore."

Snape felt a bitter sting of betrayal that Harry hadn't come to him first. He stewed in his anger for several seconds, then with a cruel smirk discreetly cast a charm to double the filth caked over the remaining cauldrons.

"Professor?" Harry said, his attention still locked on his cleaning. "Does, uh, anyone else know about us? The father thing, I mean?"

Snape folded his arms, scrutinizing Harry's carefully neutral expression. He was wary about just what had provoked this inquiry.

"No. Just the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall. And it shall remain that way."

Harry glanced up, a question on his lips.

"You may not tell your friends," Snape said through gritted teeth. "And you most certainly are forbidden to tell Lupin."

"Why?" Harry challenged, draping the rag over the side of the cauldron. "I trust Ron and Hermione, and Lupin's in the Order."

"I do not trust your friends," Snape countered harshly. "And you will not tell Lupin. It would be a mistake."

Harry's green eyes narrowed suspiciously. He was far too perceptive sometimes.

"A mistake? Why?"

Snape stalked away from him and began organizing the papers on his desk, simply to have something to do with his hands.

"The fewer that know about this, the better. Secrets have a way of making themselves known when they're spread too thinly."

"But you seem to think Remus in particular can't be trusted," Harry persisted. Snape heard him abandon the cauldron and cross the room. "Why?" There was a strange urgency in his tone. "Is it just because you hate him, or is it something more?"

"You are in detention, Potter," Snape said coldly, fixing the boy with his dark gaze. "Stop inflicting me with your incessant prattle and get back to work!"

Harry sent him a dirty look before returning to cleaning.

Knowing he needed to nip this in the bud, Snape continued, "I do not think it would be wise to tell Lupin, and you will not do so. Nothing good can come of it."

He saw from the brief flicker of defiance in Harry's downcast eyes that his words were only goading the young fool to do the exact opposite of his advice. Snape nearly growled in frustration. Idiot boy. This was for his own good.

Harry had no way of knowing that the only claim he had left on the blasted werewolf was the fact that he was James Potter's son.

… Or maybe the boy knew more than Severus thought.

There was a hooded look in Harry's eyes. The hand not scrubbing the cauldron began rubbing at his scar; clearly his emotional state had taken a sharp downturn, to render him vulnerable so suddenly.

Snape watched, troubled. He needed to keep the boy ignorant. With everything already weighing upon Harry's mind, it would destroy him to read rejection in Lupin's eyes now.

Severus felt that strange pressure on his chest again, and this time he identified it as a dreadful feeling of responsibility.

Responsibility. For this boy

Why was he feeling this now? It was the Headmaster's job to ensure Harry's welfare. It was his Head of House's job to protect him. It was Lupin who should be looking after him now.

But it was Snape himself who suddenly faced the daunting and decidedly unwanted responsibility of being a father.

And he didn't have a damn clue just what that was.

* * *

Harry's next Quidditch game was against Slytherin. He roundly defeated Draco Malfoy, despite a last minute attempt by the blonde Slytherin to shove Harry from his broomstick. He caught the snitch, and Draco unbalanced and tumbled to the ground.

Harry took one victory loop, simply to spite Snape, then alighted on the grass next to Draco, who was still plopped squarely on his bum, glaring up at his nemesis.

The gray eyes filled with shock when Harry offered his hand. Draco studied his face thoughtfully, grasped the proffered hand…

And yanked Harry onto the ground.

Harry heard Draco's malicious laughter as the blonde Slytherin swept gracefully to his feet, brushing the grass from his robes. Despite his momentary burst of anger, Harry reigned in his emotions and shoved himself upright, meeting the other boy's hateful gaze with a serene one of his own.

"Good game," Harry offered neutrally. "You almost caught it when we were by the Ravenclaw stands. It gave me a bit of a scare, for a minute there."

Draco's expression twisted with disdain and hatred. "What the hell's wrong with you lately, Potter?"

It was clear Draco was referring to Harry's attempt to end Ron's Bloating Hex the other day in addition to Harry's current civility.

"Just being polite," Harry said softly.

"We'll see how polite you are when my father tears your throat out," Draco threatened softly, his lips twisted with hurt pride at having lost the match.

Harry was struck with a profound pang of sympathy. This twisted little prat was the product of Lucius Malfoy. Draco had never had a chance to be a decent person.

Their respective teams flocked upon them and bore them off in different directions.

"Why'd you try to help that git Malfoy?" Ron demanded belligerently, hand slung over Harry's shoulder as he steered Harry to the locker room.

Harry shrugged beneath the weight of his arm, ignoring his friend's intense scrutiny. He couldn't tell Ron that his encounter with Lucius had left Harry with an odd feeling of pity whenever he encountered the younger Malfoy. As nasty and petty as Draco was, the old antipathy simply would not stir when he remembered how Lucius had cast the Cruciatus Curse on him simply to get him off the couch.

"Hey," Ron whispered softly in his ear, "Seamus and I have put together a 'Welcome Back to Quidditch' party… so we're sneaking out tonight after curfew."

Harry sent him a curious glance, and Ron grinned.

"Just you, me, and a few of the others. We're trying to keep this small. No telling Hermione."

Harry sighed. "I don't know if I'm up for it, Ron…"

He was a bit sore. His scar ached. But the hurt in his friend's expression made him catch his breath.

"You have to come, mate. It's for you!" Ron whispered. "We've been planning it for a week!"

Damn, Ron really looked upset.

Harry smiled, feeling the stirrings of guilt. He supposed he could muster the energy...

He understood several hours later just why Ron wanted to conceal the little celebration from Hermione, once the redhead had escorted him to the secret passage to Hogsmeade. Seamus and several others from the team awaited, along with a significant portion of the firewhiskey the Irish boy had been actively smuggling from Hogsmeade for the last three months.

"Ron," Harry said in a soft undertone, "is this where you and Seamus were going at nights last term?" At Ron's nod, he prompted in a slightly colder voice, "You showed him the secret passage to Hogsmeade?"

Ron drew in a breath to defend himself, but they were interrupted.

"Relax, Harry!" bellowed Katie Bell, sauntering up to them and shoving a drink into his hand. "Cheers!"

Harry cast a quick glance around at the expectant faces. Friends. They'd done this for him, and he was acting like a right prat about it.

Besides, he could remember Snape's words. "I think you'll one day learn, Potter, that the best way to alleviate peer pressure is to succumb to it."

Here's to you, Snape, Harry thought ironically. With a wry smirk, he downed his drink. It took him only a second to realize his throat was on fire!

The others broke into laughter as he nearly collapsed, coughing furiously, onto the ground. Harry had tears in his eyes when he rose again, but he couldn't help laughing along with them.

* * *

"You know Ron," Harry slurred sometime later, after several of the Gryffindors had already staggered back for the night. He threw his arm over the redhead's shoulder and grasped him tightly. "You're my best friend!"

Ron laughed. "You're pissed, mate."

"Mmm?" Harry released Ron and staggered a few steps, feeling quite pleased with himself for having such wonderful friends. He felt his best buddy catch him as he veered dangerously to the side. "Yeah, maybe just a bit." Laughter bubbled from his lips.

He was only half aware of Ron bidding the others good night before hauling him down the passage.

Ron always looks out for me… Harry thought happily, relishing the fact that his best friend was helping him. No one had done that for him before Hogwarts. No one had cared. If he'd died, the Dursleys would have been delighted. But not Ron. Not Hermione. Not the Gryffindors.

Harry was overcome with a wave of affection for his friend, and he flung his arms around him like Molly Weasley had once done to him.

"Argh, Harry!" Ron cried, the movement sending them both staggering into the wall.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled against his shoulder. "But I mean it. You're my best mate. I love you, Ron."

Oh, but he wasn't just happy about Ron. There were so many other people in his life who were good to him.

"And Hermione. I love her, too," he added. "And your mum, and Fred and George, and your dad, and Ginny, and your mum…" Oh, but… "I don't like Percy… he's a git… Sorry about that."

"Don't be sorry. I know you don't like Percy."

"No," Harry snorted. "I'm shorr- sorry your brother's such a git!"

Ron gave up on dragging Harry's stumbling form for a while, and he slumped, breathing heavily, next to him on the floor near the entrance to the school.

"We should be singing something," Harry noted, feeling a little lethargic now. "That's what people always do on the telly when they're drunk."

Ron grinned, and staggered dramatically to his feet.

"God rest ye, Merry Hippogriffs-" he began in a painfully off-key voice.

Harry burst into tears.

Ron fell silent, looking shocked. "I didn't know I was that bad," he said, staring at Harry in dismay.

Harry clamped his hands over his face and curled in on himself, his shoulders heaving with violent sobs.

"Harry?" Ron said a bit helplessly, dropping to a crouch by his side, and shaking him lightly as though hoping to jar the fit of tears into submission.

Harry wept uncontrollably. He couldn't help it. He could remember suddenly Sirius singing that song in the hallway last Christmas, and he was suddenly terribly aware of that gaping hole inside him. He tried to muffle his sobs with his arm, and Ron patted him feebly on the back for lack of a better course of action.

When the tears began to subside, he was aware of Ron speaking. The horrible, choking grief eased somewhat as his confused mind latched onto what he could understand of Ron's discursive speech. "Quidditch again, we're definitely going to show them-"… see that git Malfoy's face when you-"… "that cow knocking Hermione over like she owns the place-"

It was when Ron mentioned that he thought Hermione was far prettier than Pansy Parkinson that Harry opened his eyes and looked at him blearily.

"What?" he said dazedly. "You think Hermione's… pretty?"

Ron face turned as red as his hair. "I'm not saying I like her like that or anything- I mean, she's my friend- but you know, she's, er, she's cute."

A smile stretched across Harry's lips. "You like Hermione."

"I don't-"

"You love Hermione!"

Ron punched him in the arm, and Harry fell back onto the ground, the world spinning, laughter bubbling from his lips.

"It's okay, mate," he told Ron off-handedly. "I won't tell her. It'll be a secret. Like me and Snape."

Ron shot to attention. "You and Snape?" A look of mock horror suffused his features. "You have a crush on Snape?"

"No!" Harry said, laughing even though he was horrified by the suggestion. "No… I mean it's embarrassing to say it, but…"

He laughed again, suddenly wondering why he'd tried so hard to hide this from his best friend. Ron would sympathize!

"Snape's my father," he explained. "My dad. He told me so himself. Dubbledore- Dumbledore knew all along, too. And we did a potion to prove it and I stayed at his house and read his spell books…"

It was so ridiculous suddenly that Harry found it amusing and doubled over with laughter.

Apparently Ron thought it was funny, too, because he grinned as he hoisted Harry back up to his feet.

"You've gone absolutely nutters. You're a terrible drunk."

Harry snorted in agreement.

He leaned his head drowsily against Ron's shoulder as the redhead hauled him along, and only vaguely registered Ron's swearing when he realized they'd left the invisibility cloak back in the passage.

"We'll go back for it tomorrow," Ron promised.

Harry didn't lift his head until Ron abruptly halted in the middle of the third-floor corridor.

"Oh, hell!" he muttered.

Harry felt a sharp poke in the ribs, and abruptly forced his head upright.

"Crap, Harry," Ron said. "It's your dad!"

* * *

Snape had immediately made a beeline towards the two very inebriated students out after curfew. Their identity gave him a surge of glee, but Weasley's words froze him in place.

He sent a look between the two. Harry's eyes were glassy, the majority of his weight supported by the larger boy. Weasley looked on the verge of breaking into hysterical laughter. They were both very drunk. And apparently, Harry had revealed something he should not have.

His dark eyes tore from the redhead to his own son. He could tell immediately that Harry wouldn’t absorb any furious lecture of his in this state, so he swooped forward, wrested him from the startled boy's grasp, and deposited him none-too-gently on the floor against the far wall.

Weasley's eyes shot to him with some alarm, alarm that rapidly blossomed into terror when Snape grasped his collar and backed him into the wall, brandishing his wand.

"Are you the only one he told?" Snape said gruffly.

"What?" Weasley yelped.

Snape pressed against the boy's throat, and Weasley was now breathing quite rapidly, fear swiftly piercing the glazed look in his eyes.

"ARE YOU THE ONLY ONE, WEASLEY?" he bellowed, his fingernails tightening on the redhead's shoulder.

"Yes- yes!" Weasley cried, openly terrified. "I'm- it's just me and Harry. Just us!"

"Now you listen here, boy," said Snape in a soft, menacing voice, pressing his wand into the boy's jugular. "I would obliviate you myself at this very moment instead of waiting for the Headmaster to do so, if I weren't certain I would irreparably damage your mind… Something you can ill afford, given your current lack of intellectual prowess. However," his grip tightened on the boy's collar, and Snape drew his lips up next to the boy's ear, "if I find out you have communicated this information to anyone, and I mean ANYONE, I may just forget that you dearly require both of your brain-cells!"

He shoved back away from Weasley, and glared menacingly into those frightened eyes. "Understand me, boy?" Snape hissed.

Ronald Weasley blinked up at him, wide-eyed and disbelieving. It seemed to take him a moment of thought to realize what Snape had been talking about, and his features lit with fierce denial.

"But, it was a joke!" he said weakly.

Snape felt his stomach plunge.

"You greasy git! You're lying! It's a joke, isn't it?" Weasley almost pleaded, shooting his gaze to Harry, now sleeping comfortably on the floor. "Harry was just kidding. You're not his- you can't possible be his-"

As though he'd just witnessed some cataclysmic event, his eyes traveled slowly to the prone boy on the floor, then to Snape. Horrified comprehension seeped into his features.

"But why else would you- Oh, Merlin!" he breathed, then shook his head in disbelief. "I don't believe it. It can't be true! That's- that's impossible! LIAR!"

That proves it, Snape thought fiercely, angry with himself. Stupidity is contagious.

Weasley was too stunned to say more. Snape would demand the Headmaster obliviate the boy… as soon as he ensured his wayward son, now passed out on the floor, was not about to die of alcohol poisoning before Snape had a chance to punish him.

"I would deduct several thousand points from Gryffindor," Snape informed Weasley fiercely, "But then I would have to explain them after you no longer remember this night. Let me assure you, Mr. Weasley, that I will take this out on your hide for the rest of the year! You will go directly to the headmaster's office! I'll be there shortly."

Weasley looked too devastated and shocked to object. It was only when Snape reached down to collect Harry that the redhead cried out in protest.

"What are you going to do to him?" He sounded slightly panicked.

"Nothing fatal," Snape replied menacingly. "Now, GO!"

Without a second look at the idiotic boy, Snape hauled Harry up and bundled him off down the corridor. The other Gryffindor stared after them, paralyzed with shock.

* * *

Harry awoke, feeling dreadfully thirsty. He noticed dimly the glass of water set on the nightstand by this bed, but he knocked it over when he made to grab it.

"Idiot boy!"

He flinched at the sound of Snape's angry voice and curled into a ball, trying to reign in the sick feeling in his stomach.

"I could give you something for the excruciating hangover you are about to endure," Snape said, grasping him by the back of the neck and hauling him upright to stare into glittering black eyes. "But I prefer to see you suffer."

Huge surprise there, Harry thought bitterly, wincing as Snape's grip on the back of his neck tightened. He raised his arms clumsily to shove Snape away, but then he felt a cool glass shoved against his lips.

Surprised, Harry gulped the water down thirstily. When Snape spelled it to refill, Harry blocked its path to his mouth.

"No more," he whispered hoarsely, trying to escape Snape's grip and lie back down.

"I think not, Potter," Snape said gruffly, shoving the glass to his lips again. "Drink. You must remain hydrated."

"I think I'm going to be sick."

Snape smiled darkly. "Then we shall simply have to repeat this process again."

With a groan, Harry drank the water. It actually went down pretty easily; he was thirstier than he thought. Snape at last released him and let him slump gratefully back to the mattress.

"This is becoming an unpleasant routine, Potter. I do not care to play nursemaid to you every time your stupidity renders you incompetent."

"Then why don't you just send me to Madame Pomfrey?" Harry complained.

Snape didn't answer him. Harry let his eyes close and tried to sleep.

"You should be expelled for this," Snape said bitterly across the room. "You imbecilic boy"

Even through his haze of inebriation, the words somehow reached the part of him that could still reason. Harry forced his head upright, feeling a thrill of fear.

What was he doing here? How had Snape found out?

Oh no, Snape knew he'd been drinking.

His thoughts danced to half-forgotten images. Sprawled on the floor of the passage, in the hallway with Ron…

Shit shit shit.

He'd told Ron.

Snape KNEW he'd told Ron!

He clamped his hand over his mouth in horror at what he'd done. He felt Snape's eyes, heavy on him, and shuddered under his gaze. Snape had to be angry, and in this case, he had every reason to be.

Oh, he'd been so stupid!

He was horrified at what he'd done. It must have showed.

"Oh, never fear, Potter," Snape said, sounding disgusted. "You won't be sent back to those Muggles anytime soon."

Harry barely dared to look at Snape.

"Even at the height of your deviance, I doubt the Headmaster would expel our resident celebrity."

Harry watched him warily. It was strange that Snape had attributed his horror to anticipation of the Dursleys. He couldn't quite understand why this seemed odd- his brain was barely working right now- but it surprised him Snape had bothered analyzing his reaction at all.

"Go to sleep, Harry," Snape ordered, voice softer this time.

He used my name, Harry thought inanely.

"I pray you have several debilitating nightmares about the nature of the detentions you've earned yourself tonight," Snape added maliciously before spelling the lights off.

Well, that rather nullified the name thing, he decided, as sleep once again claimed him.

* * *

Damn Albus Dumbledore. Damn him!

"This may be a fortuitous event, Severus," the Headmaster had responded gently to Snape's demand for Weasley's memory erasure. "Harry needs a friend right now, and Mr. Weasley is a great source of strength and support…"

Forget protecting the precious true identity of the Boy-Who-Lived. Forget protecting his only spy in the Dark Lord's inner circle. Sod it all! Harry needed someone to talk to!

Bitter thoughts raged through his head as he selected the perfect counter-agent to nullify the remaining alcohol and leave the hangover. He was still actively plotting many methods of punishing Harry for sheer stupidity when he heard the tentative knock on his door.

He opened it to reveal the unwelcome sight of an exhausted-looking Ronald Weasley.

"Er, Professor Dumbledore sent me down here to bring Harry back to Gryffindor before anyone misses him," Weasley said, looking as though he were trying to summon his usual contempt for Snape's authority, and simply couldn't muster the energy for it.

Snape glared at him. "I have much to discuss with Mr. Potter."

There was that familiar foolhardy defiance. "Dumbledore sent me," Weasley insisted. With an exasperated breath, he burst out, "Look, he's going to feel like crap today anyway, so why don't you yell at him later?"

"Harry needs a friend right now…"

Snape snorted in contempt at the memory of the Headmaster's words, yet for some inexplicable reason found himself standing aside for Weasley to enter his chamber and rouse the still disoriented Harry from his sleep.

"Come on," Ron said quietly, casting a furtive, suspicious glance in Snape's direction. "We're going back."

Harry murmured something unintelligible, but accepted Ron's help nevertheless, still half-conscious and mostly inebriated.

Ron sent Snape a dubious glance before helping Harry walk clumsily out the door.

Severus wasn't certain why he'd acceded to the Headmaster's ridiculous order to let Harry escape with Weasley, but somehow he found, that afternoon, as he noticed Lupin enter the Great Hall, that the horrible weight on his chest had lifted somewhat.

Snape remembered Weasley's reaction, when he'd started to take Harry away after their confrontation in the hall. The boy had been worried Snape would harm Harry

It seemed Harry had at least one stalwart ally. Weasley's contemptuous, defiant behavior towards himself on Harry's behalf should have infuriated him, especially because Weasley was undermining his own authority considerably with every insubordinate word that passed his lips.

For some reason, though, it didn't. And that unsettled Snape more than even the realization his life now depended upon Ronald Weasley's discretion.

The End.


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