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: 759716 Published: 14 Dec 2009 Updated: 14 Jan 2010
Keeping up Appearances by GatewayGirl

Detention was horrible. Severus took the cigarettes from Harry, but didn't even bother to lecture him. He walked him to Filch's office and handed him over to the caretaker for his detention, just, Harry thought, so the evening would have no redeeming features. At the end of it, though, Filch, rather than releasing Harry, escorted him back to the Potions master's office.

"How was your detention?" A small smiled played about the edges of Severus's mouth. "Unpleasant, I hope?"

"Very. I had to clean up the mess Peeves made in the third floor boys bathroom." Harry dared a quick smile. "Filch claims he hates Peeves, but I think he'd be lost without him."

"Quite probably." Severus scowled at him. "But I can think up worse. Do this again and I will."

Harry looked at a spot on the wall. So much for being social. "Yes sir."

"Visit me tomorrow."

"What?"

"Visit me. Portkey down. Didn't you want my opinion on your new clothes?"

"Yes." Harry realized he had met his father's eyes in his surprise, and decided to concede gracefully. "I'd like that."


On Tuesday after dinner, Harry stole up to the dormitory to dress. He put on the burgundy trousers and black boots, then tried to decide on a shirt. The crimson was another red, and he thought the green made him look too much like a christmas ornament. He wavered between gold and black before settling on the pale gold. The dark burgundy cape subdued it enough, he decided. He was just crossing the room to get his school bag and the portkey from his bed when the door opened behind him with a faint click.

"What in bloody hell is that?"

Harry turned quickly. The cape swirled out and settled. The light brush across the back of his legs felt strange and rather nice. Ron was standing in the doorway, staring at him.

"New clothes?" Harry tried.

"Has Malfoy invited you home? Is Fudge presenting you to select society girls?"

Harry scowled. "They're just clothes, Ron! Se-- A friend wanted to see what I bought." Harry darted quickly to the bed and scooped up his bag. "I may be out late," he said, sliding it under the cape to his shoulder. "Don't worry."

"Why would I worry? It's just you off being a prat."

Harry winced. "Could we not fight for a few days, at least?"

Ron made an unsuccessful attempt to look conciliatory before resuming his scowl. "Just go. I don't care, and we're still friends, all right? Now get out."

Harry shrugged slightly and nodded. He opened the box, and touched the portkey within it. He felt the terrifying pull at his belly and the world swirled and vanished. When he stumbled forward, it was to catch himself on Severus's green sofa.

"You're right on t-- Oh!"

Harry, nerves still taut from the port, dropped the bag and spun to face the sound, even as he reassured himself that it was Severus's voice, though with an unusually surprised tone.

His father looked him up and down; Harry couldn't pin down his expression.

"Is it wrong?" Harry asked. "Do I look silly?"

"You look," Severus said slowly, still staring at him, "like a rich, well-bred, most likely progressive, but still proper, young wizard." He let out a shaky breath. "It's perfect." He smirked. "Now that's something you can wear when the Minister visits -- he'd be pleased."

"Ron didn't like it."

"I don't suppose he would."

Harry looked down and scuffed the toe of one polished boot along the stone floor. "He looked at me like I was Lockhart."

Severus snorted. "Hardly. Lockhart's boots would be dyed to match the trousers, and his shirt would match them and have a contrasting trim, or contrast with a matching trim, and his cape would be styled to widen the look of his shoulders, and his shirt cut to taper in at the waist, and some significant portion of the lot would glitter."

Harry laughed, half with amusement and half with relief. He could picture the sort of thing Severus meant.

"I suspect the Weasley boy is simply afraid you look too top-drawer for him, and will decide on some more proper companion."

Harry thought about what Ron had actually said. He had mentioned Draco, and "society girls." Perhaps that was the problem. "He ought to know me better," he complained.

Severus shook his head slightly. "In that, you don't look like someone he knows." He raised his eyebrows. "Though I would have expected him to approve of the Gryffindor colors."

Harry frowned. "Would Augustus have dressed like this?"

The expressiveness faded from his father's face. He was focused on something very far away when he answered. "Too modern for Augustus."

"James?" Harry wondered, slightly, about the people they used as markers. People from the past ... Augustus had become real to him, almost as real as James and Lily, who were as real as Lucius, entombed in Azkaban, as Sirius back from the underworld and gone again. Remus alone was flesh.

Severus snorted. "Too conservative." He thought for a moment. "James might have worn something like that," he admitted, "but to a formal event that demanded dress robes. James was precisely aware of the appropriate attire for any occasion, and would always dress slightly more casually, to show these rules did not concern him."

"I'm all right with that," Harry answered. "I'd like to know when I'm off, though. Fred and George couldn't understand that."

"I am hardly surprised." Severus held out his hand. "The portkey?"

Harry snapped the box shut and handed it over.

"I will modify it later. Unlike the headmaster, I cannot reset portkeys with a half-second's thought." Severus drew open a drawer on his desk and pulled out a chain and rectangular locket, both of copper. He held it so that it caught the light "Another item that Dumbledore suddenly 'remembered' having around -- this one belonged to James." Severus's mouth still curled with contempt around the name, but no longer lingered there, and the spite that would have danced sparks in his black eyes a term earlier never appeared at all. "The headmaster has several rooms throughout the school that can be opened only from the inside. The inside of the cover of this locket will take you to the one nearest Gryffindor. It will work from anywhere, rather than just here, as we discussed."

"What are the rooms for?" Harry asked. For people to hide in?

Severus growled with exasperation. "Tell me."

Harry took a deep breath. "For people to hide in?"

"Exactly." He smirked. "Within the range of your deductive abilities after all, wasn't it?"

To hide his unease, Harry settled down on the sofa. The cape pulled at his neck, and he needed to stand up and arrange it more carefully when he sat back down. He glanced away, along the back of the sofa, and noticed the bookcases behind it. Immediately, he stood up again, and walked around. The books were no longer tight against each other. Here and there were actual gaps, or places where some small item had been added, or some books lain on their sides, as an impromptu bookend.

"Father?" he asked carefully. When there was no response, he turned. Severus had sat in his usual chair, and was placing a glass of amber liquid on the table beside him. He sent Harry a challenging look.

"What?"

"What happened to your books?"

"I realized that I had many things I never intend to read again, and which I do not want you to read at all." His face tightened. "I got rid of them."

"Got rid of! What if we need them? The one I was looking at? The --"

"I have explained to you why we cannot need that. I do not think I was in any way ambiguous."

Harry stared at him in horror. There must be a hundred books missing, and I know he had things not in the library. "You didn't destroy them." He just put them somewhere else. He must have.

His father looked down, then. "No. Destroying something like that only means you no longer have access to it, and thus no clues on how to counter it. The idea still exists somewhere." He shifted in his seat. "I gave them to Dumbledore; I realized he was the only person I trusted with them."

Severus gestured to the sofa, and Harry stumbled mindlessly back. He stood beside it, one hand leaning on the near arm. "I can't believe you did that."

Severus scowled. "I can't believe you were seriously contemplating the study of a practical guide to entrapping, misdirecting, and destroying souls!"

Harry ducked his head. "I hadn't-- I would have asked--"

"If there is something it horrifies me to see you even notice...." Severus looked oddly lost. He rubbed at his forehead as if it hurt. "Why do I have it?" He waved irritably at the bookshelves. "It hadn't mattered before. It was all ... private."

"But--"

"Harry." His father's voice was quite calm, now. "It's all right. I should have done it years ago. I have room for other things, now. Now sit."

Harry sat. He still felt uncomfortable, as if he had accidentally broken something.

"We must have something more interesting to talk about. What has happened with young Malfoy?"

Harry reddened and stammered out an approximation of his conversation with Draco. He volunteered that things were better with Ron -- or at least had been, until Ron had seen him dressed up. The talk moved on to the D.A., which was to finally reconvene the next day.

The pauses between subjects became longer, and the moments of silence comfortable, rather than merely lost. Now that he was over his shock, Harry began to find the spaces on the bookshelves inviting, rather than frightening. Perhaps he could get his father something to put in one of them.

"May I ask you something?" Harry advanced, when one of the pauses seemed long enough to accept a new subject. Severus raised his eyebrows questioningly, and he continued. "How strict is the rule about only one animal? I know my first year letter said only one, but if I wanted to get a pet, could I?"

"Pet?" Severus sounded rather scandalized. "We do not keep pets at school."

"Well, I have an owl."

"That's not a pet, Harry, that's a familiar!"

Harry blinked. "I thought a familiar was something that helped you cast spells, and so on."

"And next year you will be learning a little of that. For now, that she is your familiar means that she is unusually responsive to your needs and wishes."

"Oh."

"If you get another animal, and it is truly a pet, that will not cause problems. However, if you get another animal and bond with it on a magical level, that may disrupt your relationship with ... Hedwig?"

"Yes." Harry frowned. "So, how do I keep from magically bonding with another animal?"

"Well, there are only some creatures that are suitable. What is it?"

Answering directly would be an admission of keeping an animal, Harry suspected. He sighed. "Well, Hermione was looking at ferrets, in Hogsmeade. We were just wondering --"

"Ferrets?"

"Domesticated member of the weasel family?" Harry tried to keep his reply sarcastic.

"Used to hunt rabbits -- yes, I know." Severus sighed. "And why would Granger want a ferret?"

"Because it can get into places."

"What?"

"She wants to use spells on it so she can see what it sees, then send it into places she can't get into. She came up with the idea when she was trying to keep track of me."

"That would be dangerous. Fortunately, most of those spell are too difficult --"

"Dangerous how?"

Severus drew back at Harry's suddenly harsh tone. Slowly, his surprise faded to a slightly superior amusement.

"Just how theoretical is this problem?"

"She's done it, on Sunday night. Seeing and hearing -- she hasn't tried controlling where it goes yet. It's more my pet, though; I've been taking care of it and playing with it, though I don't do any magic with it."

Severus sighed. "You do manage to find trouble, don't you?"

"It's my second-greatest talent."

"After Quidditch?"

"After not dying."

Severus mouth twitched, but he continued to stare. "Astounding." He shook his head. "I wish I could walk you up to the library -- I don't know any appropriate titles, but I could find them. You are probably not in danger of magical bonding, at least not soon. It could happen to her quite quickly. She needs to protect herself before any further contact. She should also take care with her anchor spell."

"Oh, she managed to get back on her own, the second time."

Severus froze.

"I only had to shake her a bit the first one, though it's probably lucky I found her."

"You ignorant, Muggle-raised idiots! Have you the faintest idea what you are playing with?"

Harry kept himself from shrinking away from the shouting. "I guess not. Unless you're over-reacting."

"You're lucky your little girlfriend wasn't soul-lost. Does she actually remember anything?"

"Oh yes. She said everything was very high up. And she answered questions for me, while she was doing it."

Severus hissed out a long breath. Through clenched teeth, he demanded, "Everything. From the beginning."


Harry materialized in a cold, bare room with stone walls and a rough wood floor. It had a shuttered window and a plain door with a simple lift latch. With his hand on the latch, Harry paused. He looked down at his clothes, then glanced automatically at his bag. He didn't bother to look through it. He knew he had not brought his invisibility cloak. He was outside Gryffindor, and he was going to have to walk back in as he was.

For a minute, he considered staying in this bare room until his housemates were all in bed. The problem was, he thought, that a lot of the Gryffindors stayed up late as a matter of course. It was difficult to predict when the common room might be empty, and coming in dressed like this at two in the morning was even more likely to invite comment (and speculative gossip) than doing it now.

"Why don't I ever think of these things beforehand?" he muttered. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, lifted the latch, and strode out into an empty corridor.

Harry glanced back to see what the door looked like from the outside. Quite simply, it was not visible at all. The wall appeared to be bare stone. He looked up and down the corridor, trying to get his bearings, and recognized the crossed battleaxes hanging above a particular arched alcove. He was on the highest floor of the castle that abutted Gryffindor's tower -- just around the corner, he would find the stairs. Determined to look confident, Harry marched off to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

When he climbed in the portrait hole, conversations began to falter. By the time he was halfway across the room, moving with a relaxed but purposeful stride that he was working very hard to believe in, they been replaced by clusters of high-pitched giggles and quick whispers.

"Harry," Hermione chided, "you are out of uniform."

Harry paused. Over his shoulder, he called, "sorry. Portkey accident." He continued up the stairs. The delay had lessened his embarrassment, as it had given him time to recognize the sort of giggle that had been coming from the girls. He would be willing to bet most of them didn't think he looked silly, at all.


Ron barged into the dormitory a minute behind him. "Portkey accident?"

"Wait." Harry pulled out his wand. He cast a sound barrier and warded the doors and windows against casual entry.

"Well?"

"I expected to be able to Floo back, late. But Dumbledore decided it would be safer for me to have a portkey to a room just outside Gryffindor, and Father wanted me back at a decent hour --"

"Father wanted," Ron mimicked sourly. "You sound like Malfoy."

"Well, I --" Harry stopped. "I call him Severus, sometimes, but 'Dad' is just too -- light, or something. And too ... James." He swallowed. "That would still mean James."

The anger fled Ron's face as quickly as it had come. He sat down on his bed. "It must be complicated."

"Yes." Harry sat down too. "Yes, it's complicated."

"You look like such a toff! You wore that to meet -- him?"

"Well, to show him. Because of what Fred and George said, I'd tried to describe what I bought, and wanted to know if it sounded right. He wanted to see it, and he's suggested it for when Fudge comes."

"You shouldn't dress up for Fudge!"

"I think I should." Harry had been evaluating this idea. "I should impress on him how well I'm socializing here, so he doesn't pull me out and put me someplace else."

"He wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, he would! He's afraid of Professor Dumbledore, remember, and he wants to use me, I'm certain. If I'm away from everyone who might support me, he has more control."

"But wouldn't --"

"He sent me a letter. Said he was coming to 'evaluate my educational situation.' That sounds like he plans to find fault, to me."

"Arsehole!" Ron glowered, but the insult was clearly directed towards the absent Cornelius Fudge. Ron snapped a hand towards Harry. "Change. I can't talk to someone who looks like that."

Harry decided to go straight into pajamas. He had taken off his boots and cape when inspiration struck.

"Come here a moment, Ron."

"What?"

Ron stood and took an uncertain step towards him. With a deft flick, Harry settled the cape on his friend's shoulders. Ron froze.

"Hm. Clashes with your hair, I think. Blue would suit you better."

Ron yanked the cape off and threw it angrily onto Harry's bed. "Don't you dare! I don't need your damn presents."

Harry refused to back down. "I'm the sole heir of two very rich families, Ron -- Potter and Black. What do you want me to do with all this money? Buy art? Buy jewelry? Buy a few Wizengamot members?" Ron snorted with barely repressed laughter. Harry grinned. "Besides, I may lose it all, when people find out. I should spend a decent amount of it, first."

Ron's jaw dropped. "They can't!"

"Well, possibly some distant cousin could challenge, at least for the Potter fortune. No one's found a will." Harry shrugged. "It seems I'll get the Black one, eventually, because Sirius did leave a will -- and a formal declaration of innocence. Both 'mysteriously' showed up at the Ministry, on Shacklebolt's desk." He shot Ron a conspiratorial grin. "So -- help me spend a bit of my current fortune, next Hogsmeade weekend?"

Ron's mouth contorted as it tried to decide on an expression.

"Come on," Harry urged. "It'll be brilliant, really."

Ron settled on a dazed smile. "All right, then. A bit."

The End.


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