Blood Magic by GatewayGirl
Summary: Blood magic was supposed to keep Harry safe, but his relatives are expendable. Blood magic was supposed to keep Harry looking like his adoptive father, but it's wearing off. Blood is a bond, but so is the memory of hate -- or love.
Categories: Parental Snape > Biological Father Snape > Severitus Challenge Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Draco, Hermione, Remus
Snape Flavour: None
Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama
Media Type: None
Tags: Slytherin!Harry, Snape-meets-Dursleys
Takes Place: 6th summer
Warnings: Alcohol Use, Drug use, Neglect, Profanity, Romance/Het, Romance/Slash, Torture, Violence
Challenges: None
Series: Blood Magic Universe
Chapters: 84 Completed: Yes Word count: 337748 Read: 759849 Published: 14 Dec 2009 Updated: 14 Jan 2010
Adjustments by GatewayGirl

Ron ignored Harry the next morning. Harry stopped in front of his seat at lunchtime.

"Could we talk?"

"When you were out again, last night? No."

"We have a match coming up."

"You're not getting me with that 'for the good of the team' rot, again."

"It's not rot! Do you want to lose to Ravenclaw because you don't --" Harry caught himself. Everyone in earshot would speculate wildly about any vague thing he said. "We need to discuss this privately."

"No."

"Be at practice fifteen minutes early. Alone."


Harry waited at the pitch, but Ron did not show up early. He came a few minutes late, with both Andrew and Jack. Harry glared and sent everybody into the air without preamble.

They practiced hard and long, and the exertion began to wear the edge of Harry's anger. After an hour, he was starting to feel more optimistic. A half-hour after that, he was enjoying himself. Another half-hour later, after a spectacular play between Iggy and Ginny, he called everyone down.

"That was great. If everyone can play that well on Saturday, we'll have the match. Remember to get enough sleep on Friday night -- it's an earlier start than usual." He glanced over at Ron. "Ron ... having the twins watch won't give you any trouble now, will it?"

Ron reddened. "No," he said angrily.

"Good. Glad to hear it."

"We've got company." Iggy jerked a thumb up at the stands. Harry wondered how he could have missed the gleam of near-white hair in the darkness. It was moving now, in a slight bobbing motion as the body beneath it descended the stairs. Perhaps it had been less noticeable when still.

Harry stepped in front of his teammates as their uninvited audience reached the green.

"Draco." He nodded. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Obviously." Draco flipped his hood up, and Harry understood how he had missed him earlier. The pale face was overshadowed by fine-woven black wool. He didn't look like a Death Eater, Harry told himself -- not quite. "You should be more observant."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Draco smiled slightly. "Good. Talk for a moment, then?"

Harry nodded, and walked beside Draco through the narrow passage off the pitch. He gestured Draco out into the open before him, but nothing was waiting there.

"What is it?"

"Blaise got some firewhiskey, and we're planning to get pissed. Would you like to join us?"

Harry stared. The offer was an odd contrast to Draco's earlier subtly and current courteous tone. "Um ... no."

Draco hesitated. "I was acting like a prat, yesterday," he said lightly.

Which, Harry thought, was probably the closest thing to an apology that Draco could manage.

"It's all right," he said, gesturing behind them with a jerk of his head. "I'm used to it."

Draco looked horrified. "Tell me you didn't just compare me to Weasley."

"I did, actually. But if it makes you feel better, I'll admit you're being more reasonable, in this round." Harry wondered if Ron had overheard that. He wasn't sure whether he wanted him to have heard it or not. "See you in Potions?"

Draco looked up at the stars. The hood slipped off his fair hair. "If I don't stay in bed." He gave Harry a quick, sharp look, and his voice turned mocking. "Good evening, then. Enjoy your virtuous pursuits." He smirked and headed back toward the castle.

Harry, chuckling, turned back to the pitch, only to be nearly knocked over by Ron, who stormed on up the hill.

"Harry?" Teresa said timidly.

"Hm?" Harry was still staring after Ron. He watched him give Draco a wide berth in passing.

"Wasn't that Malfoy? The Slytherin Seeker?"

Harry nodded. "And Captain."

"What did he want?"

"To invite me drinking. Actually, I think just to let me know he's not still angry with me." Harry grinned down at Teresa. "Chances are he would have keeled over if I'd said yes."


At breakfast the next morning, Harry could think of little besides the custody hearing. Logically, he had decided the whole thing was a farce, and the outcome of little importance, but that did not prevent him from wanting it over with. Dumbledore, to his surprise, was at the staff table. Harry had just started on his eggs when something hit him on the head. It was a letter. A striking gold and white barn owl, apparently the carrier, landed in front of him.

"Bacon?" Harry offered. The great eyes watched unblinkingly from the cartoon-like face for a moment. With great deliberation, the bird took the bacon in one claw, then flew away. A flash of light caught it in flight. Colin lowered his camera.

"Whose bird, Harry?" he asked. "It's a pretty one -- especially from below, with all that white. Does it belong to a friend of yours?"

Harry opened the letter. It was a note from Professor Dumbledore.

"Probably a school owl," he said. "It's from the headmaster -- reminding me we have a meeting."

In fact, the note gave him particulars of a meeting:

Harry,

The hearing is scheduled for eleven, and I have additional matters to attend to at the Ministry, whatever the outcome. Please come to my office shortly before dinner, and we will discuss your status.

Regards,

Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster

Harry looked up at the staff table. When he had Dumbledore's attention, he nodded.

Harry was not surprised when Draco wasn't in the Potions classroom before class. Thinking back, Harry thought he had skipped breakfast, as well. Harry set up in his usual place and wondered if the Slytherin would show or not.

Professor Snape glided into the room, and began to survey them all in his usual contemptuous manner. His scan stopped at the empty place next to Harry.

"Bulstrode!"

Millicent jumped. She banged into her scales, which caused them to jangle loudly. "Yes, sir?"

"Is Malfoy ill?"

"I don't know, sir. He wasn't at breakfast."

Snape's attention turned to Harry. Harry sometimes wondered if it was good or bad that he could think of Professor Snape as a separate person from his father.

"And you, Potter?" the Potions Master asked sharply. "I don't suppose you would know what has become of Mr. Malfoy?"

"No, sir."

After a bit of unintelligible, but clearly irritated, muttering, Snape began to lecture on the effects of cauldron material on sensitive potions. Harry pretended to take notes. He judged it to be at least ten minutes later that Draco arrived.

Draco slunk in and slipped into place next to Harry. He looked pale, and had an odd, unpleasant scent to him.

"How kind of you to join us, Malfoy," Snape said bitingly. "I expect you to join me for detention, as well. Directly after supper, tonight."

Draco looked pathetic. "I'm feeling a bit sick, sir."

"I expect so," Snape returned. He stalked toward them. When he was quite close, he snapped, "that does not excuse you!" at a volume that made Draco wince. Apparently satisfied, Snape whirled and returned to the front of the room and his lecture.

"Have a good evening?" Harry whispered.

"Shut up, Potter."


On the way up to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Draco caught at Harry's arm. "Slow down?" At Harry's surprised look, he rolled his eyes. "The stairs are jarring at the speed you take them."

"Ah." Harry couldn't repress a smirk. "I am so glad I turned down your offer."

"I had fun," Draco protested. He looked down. "As far as I recall, that is."

"Why didn't you stay in bed?"

"Radiana Nott threatened to report both of us if we did."

Harry's mouth quirked. "Girls!" he said.

"Really. Even Crabbe wouldn't do that to me." Draco shifted closer. "May I copy your notes from this morning?" His tone was wheedling. "I didn't catch half of that, and Defense will be worse."

"You can have my Defense Against the Dark Arts notes, anyway."

"But Potions?"

"I didn't take any."

"What?"

"I learned all that stuff over the summer. He didn't even get into it today, really."


As Remus's lesson progressed, Harry found his ability to concentrate slipping. Having promised Draco notes, he attempted to take them, but he knew he they were below his usual level of detail. When he left the class, Draco walked silently along with him down to the Entrance Hall. When Harry, on impulse, went outside, Draco followed.

"Is something wrong?" Draco drawled. He seemed to have almost recovered. "In case you haven't noticed, this is hardly sunbathing weather."

In fact, it was cold, grey, and spitting thin rain. Harry leaned back against the building to stay out of most of it.

"Worried about tomorrow's game?"

Harry tried to shrug, but the motion turned into a curl of his shoulders that he had to focus to reverse. "Worried who'll have control of my life by sunset."

"Melodramatic, don't you think?"

"Not really. There's a custody hearing on, right at this very moment."

Draco's eyes widened. "Aren't you sixteen?"

"Yes, but the Wizengamot decreed I require a guardian. I'm 'at risk.'"

Draco snorted. "Of a number of things. Who are the contenders? The Weasleys?"

"I wish! No, it's the Ministry versus Professor Dumbledore."

"Oh." Draco stared at him. A fine mist had settled over his pale hair, and glistened like a halo. Harry thought it most inappropriate.

"I'd rather have the headmaster, of course. They both want me for political reasons, but I at least agree with Dumbledore's politics. If I become a ward of the Ministry, Fudge will have control of me, and he's an idiot."

"You think so?" Draco sounded pleased.

"Completely. He doesn't care about anything besides keeping his position. He'll sacrifice anyone for power, but he hasn't any real use for it."

"But he does have a use for it."

"What?"

"Maintaining his power."

Harry sniggered. "Right. Honestly, I have more respect for your father. I think he at least believed in what he was doing."

Draco opened his mouth, as if he intended to ask something further, then closed it again. He turned.

"Potter, looking like a drowned rat won't make the Wizengamot take pity on you. I, at least, have the sense to get in out of the rain. Come to lunch."

They walked in to the Great Hall together. Harry noticed what they had done when the silence rolled like a wave in front of them. Perversely, he stayed at Draco's side, and accepted his light parting nudge -- a mere bumping of shoulders -- when they reached the end of the Slytherin table. A smile possessed him as he continued on to the Gryffindor one. I don't care who's angry with me, as long as it's over something stupid.


**********

Severus did not enjoy the sweeping spiral of rising up to Dumbledore's office. Disorientation had ceased to amuse him before he was of age. He hated the childish passwords and the sedate, yet quirky charm of the office. He entered coolly, and sat obstinately in the least-comfortable chair.

"Make it quick."

"Calm down, dear boy." Dumbledore attempted a merry smile as he extended a plate of biscuits to Severus. The effort did not make it past his lips. "You keep telling me today's outcome is immaterial."

"You lost," Severus interpreted. He ignored the biscuits.

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes." He inclined his silver head. "I lost."

"If Fudge dares --"

"You will endure it," Dumbledore commanded firmly. "This is temporary. Legally, they must publish the decision and allow four weeks' time for any challenges. You will bide your time until the confirmation hearing on the first of November."

Severus scowled. "Thus I am useful through the critical date of Halloween."

"Useful as a spy, yes. Voldemort does have a fondness for dramatic gestures on that date."

"And afterward?"

Dumbledore looked unusually anxious. "In all seriousness, Severus, Harry is of primary importance, here. You have better control over him than I do. I will be more than content to have you as a potions crafter, and keeper of Harry."

"We fight constantly!"

"Yet he loves you." Dumbledore shook his head. "He has not loved me for years. Respected perhaps -- not loved."

"He is romanticizing." Severus forced his voice to coldness. "This will not last."

"Severus! For once in your life will you accept that you have a right to what you are given?"

While Severus was still trying to find a response, Fawkes stretched on his perch and trilled at the door.

"Harry is here, I expect. Open the door, please, Severus, and see."

It was Harry. Severus saw him flinch back, and realized his surge of protectiveness had come out in a glare.

"Come in." Severus found he had reached out a hand to touch the boy, and he snatched it back. "We were -- It's Fudge, I'm afraid."

Harry shrugged. "We expected that." His voice was calm, but he looked shaken. He stepped into the room, and Severus sat again. To his surprise, Harry took the chair closest to his own and tugged it closer. Severus felt a smile pulling at his lips, and contained it as much as he could.

Harry focused on Dumbledore. "So," he said.

"So," Dumbledore repeated. He managed to make the mimicry a shared confidence, rather than an insult.

"Fudge." Harry made a face.

"At least you will have no mixed feelings," Dumbledore observed. His voice was kind, but the words caused a flash of guilt to cross Harry's face. Severus intervened.

"And my fate, of course, is linked to yours."

"I hope, Severus," Dumbledore said quickly, "that I will be able to adequately shield you --"

"If I stay in or near the castle."

"Unfortunately, my sphere is limited --"

"Do you think the Minister will try to move me?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore frowned. Severus thought it quite refreshing. The old man stroked his white beard. "Not immediately."

Severus thought that should be made more explicit. "He probably plans to do so after the confirmation hearing."

Harry's eyes never left the headmaster. "Are you sure Fath-- Severus will be able to get custody?"

"I have no objection to you calling Severus 'Father,'" the headmaster said calmly. "I am pleased."

Harry reddened. "The question?"

"He will. Wizarding law is inflexible on this. It has bothered me before, but I am content, this time."

Harry, for the first time since he had entered, looked over to meet Severus's eyes. Severus smirked at him, and Harry seemed encouraged by this.

"Good then," he said bravely. "How are the spy devices going?"

Severus looked at Dumbledore, who glanced away. "Not well," the headmaster said.

"Flitwick," Severus said dryly, "is not part of the old crowd. The information we give him is limited -- as are his results."

"Why not ask Fred and George?" Harry asked.

"Fred and --"

"They're coming tomorrow. You know they're brilliant sneaks, and however much trouble they may be, they are loyal."

"Coming tomorrow?" Severus asked.

"For the game."

Dumbledore nodded and stroked his beard. "Yes," he murmured. "I've given them permission to stay the night."

"They are too young!" Severus snapped.

"Old enough," Dumbledore countered.

"Irresponsible."

"Yet dedicated."

"To making trouble!"

"To a number of things," Harry cut in.

"I will talk with them," Dumbledore decided. "From there ... We shall see. Now...." He opened a drawer in his desk, and pulled out a drawstring pouch, which he opened flat to show a quantity of gold. "Are any of these the one, Severus?"

Severus made out the shape of a griffin passant among the clutter, and moved swiftly forward. The matter of the Weasley twins melted away at the sight. With a trembling hand, he spread out the brooches. "Had enough of them, did he?" he growled. And most of gold, he thought, but he could not summon any resentment. He found it easily enough -- a gold griffin with one foreleg raised and its long tail weaving in and out of its legs in a Celtic style. The eye was an inset emerald. "The contract was in this," he said. His voice trembled.

"I expect you would like privacy?"

Unwilling to trust his voice again, Severus answered with a jerky nod. Dumbledore's hand came briefly to his shoulder.

"Very well. Harry, please leave now. Severus, I'll get you the pensieve, then leave you to your viewing."


**********

The corridor was quiet. Harry wandered in a daze. He found himself looking down the stairs to the dungeons and forced his path up, again. On one of the back stairways, he heard footsteps, and whirled in mindless panic.

"Harry?"

It was Hermione. Harry released a breath he had not known he was holding.

Hermione came closer and stood for a moment, studying him as if he were a new magical creature. "Shall we go to your lounge?" she suggested. Harry nodded. It always seemed easier to talk there, somehow. Perhaps, he thought, because it's my own. He looked around for a moment, and recognized where he was -- only a floor down from the Room of Requirement, and not too far over. He led the way.

There was only one couch, today. Harry supposed that made sense. He cast himself down on it, and she sat more sedately, just within reach.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Harry sighed. "I am now a ward of the Ministry."

"What?"

"Dumbledore lost the custody bid. I'm under the direct supervision of the Ministry of Magic, which means that, for all practical purposes, Fudge is my guardian."

"Oh, Harry!"

Harry waved off her dismay. "It's no big deal. We expected it really, and it's just temporary. Severus is to claim me at the confirmation hearing, on the first of November -- provided he doesn't get himself killed, first."

"You're obviously upset...."

"But I shouldn't be! I mean, it's not as if he's adopting me, or anything. I don't need to treat him as my father; I just need to be polite and obedient --" Harry ignored Hermione's derisive snort -- "whatever few times he sees fit to visit, just for a few weeks -- and pretend I do think it's permanent."

"It sounds hard to me."

Harry groaned. "I can't stand him; really I can't. I just keep reminding myself how the Hat wanted me in Slytherin...."

"So?" Hermione asked sharply.

"So I ought to be able to do this. It's just a little convenient duplicity -- it ought to come naturally."

Hermione giggled. Harry sighed and sunk back into the cushions. He realized they smelled slightly of dog, like Hagrid's sofa, or Sirius's. It was comforting. When he glanced up, Hermione was regarding him speculatively.

"I remember when you told me about your Sorting. Have you ever told Ron?"

"No. He wouldn't understand."

"You said Dumbledore decided it was because of your link to Voldemort --"

"Well, I've decided he's wrong. It's just me."

When Hermione spoke again, after a long silence, her voice was hesitant. "Do you think you should have ...?"

"No way!" Harry grinned at her. "And miss five years of the two best friends a bloke could have? And the other Weasleys? And the Gryffindor Quidditch team? And the tower? Forget that!" He rolled his eyes. "Besides, I'd be horrible, don't you think? All the worst influences for me."

"Probably." Hermione edged a little closer and Harry tugged her closer yet. She submitted briefly to a kiss, then shifted slightly back. "Is anything good happening?"

"Besides you?"

She gave an impatient little snort. Harry suspected that sort of response would work better with most other girls. He resigned himself to a substantive answer.

"I had a wonderful time with my father, for a change. We didn't go too deep into our problem areas -- Remus and Draco, at the moment -- and we actually had fun talking about Fred and George, and ... other things." He grinned. "Tomorrow is the match, and I think we can win, if Ron's not a total prat. And Fred and George are coming. And it's a Hogsmeade weekend. So, basically, yeah, everything is going to plan, and if I wasn't worried about Fudge yanking me out of here, or something equally awful, I'd be happy."

She leaned against him. "So prepare to channel your inner sneak."

Harry laughed. "Oh, I will."


**********

The cold ground burned against Severus's knees, feet, and hands, but he remained in obeisance, his only impropriety to keep his forehead slightly above the ground. He fervently hoped the adaptation went unnoticed.

"I have been patient with you, my most inefficient servant," hissed a cold, high, voice, "but a month should be time enough for even such an incompetent investigator as yourself. " The voice paused, leaving the implied threat of punishment hanging for several long seconds. When it continued, each word was painfully precise. "How has Dumbledore guarded the boy?"

"I know what he says he has done, master," Severus said silkily. His eyes were still less than an inch above the frosty ground. "I do not believe him."

"What does he say?"

"He says that Sirius's death now guards the boy --"

"Lies! That was not a sacrifice!"

"Indeed," Severus agreed dryly, "the cur tripped. However, I think this lie may hold a grain of truth."

"How so?"

"I think his mother's protection has been replaced by that of another. Still, I must puzzle out who. Not Black, certainly, or Dumbledore would not have been so foolish as to name him." Remus, Severus thought. I could turn my lord's suspicions to Remus. He remained silent. He told himself, belatedly, that it would not be wise to remind his master of Lily's school entanglements.

The Dark Lord hissed, and an almost pleasant terror shuddered through Severus's body. He heard the whisper of Nagini slithering past, and let his devotion and fear overlay the surface of his mind.

"How long do you expect your puzzlement to last, servant?"

"I will have your answer by Christmas."

"Halloween, or you are of no use to me."

Severus repressed a shudder. "Yes, master." He bent low enough to brush the icy dirt with his forehead and nose. "I am grateful for your patience, master."

"Do not overtax it," the Dark Lord hissed. About them, people shifted in anticipation, but no Unforgivables hit Severus, this night. Someone else would fall screaming, no doubt. In relief, Severus eased to his knees, and then to his feet. He met Crabbe's disappointed look with a glare. The idiot turned away.

On the far side of the room, someone began to shriek.

The End.


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