Green Filters by Delphin
Summary: A suspicion leads to a string of events all but one person could never see coming.
Categories: Parental Snape, Teacher Snape > Professor Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Draco, Luna, Neville, Pomfrey
Snape Flavour: None
Genres: Drama, Family, Hurt/Comfort
Media Type: None
Tags: Alternate Universe, Slytherin!Harry, Snape-meets-Dursleys
Takes Place: None
Warnings: Abusive Dursleys, Alcohol Use, Character Bashing, Profanity, Romance/Slash, Self-harm, Suicide Themes
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 14 Completed: Yes Word count: 12110 Read: 118223 Published: 29 Jul 2011 Updated: 05 Nov 2011
Story Notes:

Thanks to dancingkats for not only bringing back these chapters for me, but for also taking the time to beta read and edit each one~!

Go give her cyber hugs and cyber cookies and anything else she oh so desires~

1. Chapter 1 -- Harry by Delphin

2. Chapter 2 -- Severus by Delphin

3. Chapter 3 -- Harry by Delphin

4. Chapter 4 -- Severus by Delphin

5. Chapter 5 -- Harry by Delphin

6. Chapter 6 -- Severus by Delphin

7. Chapter 7 -- Harry by Delphin

8. Chapter 8 -- Severus by Delphin

9. Chapter 9 -- Harry by Delphin

10. Chapter 10 -- Severus by Delphin

11. Chapter 11 -- Harry by Delphin

12. Chapter 12-- Severus by Delphin

13. Chapter 13-- Harry by Delphin

14. Epilogue by Delphin

Chapter 1 -- Harry by Delphin
Author's Notes:
(Thank-you dancingkatz, for bringing back chapters 1-8 for me!)

 

 

Harry shifted under the protection of his invisibility cloak, sitting on the hard wood floor outside the portrait hole of the Gryffindor common room, his common room. He would have gone in, oh, there was no doubt he would have gone in, if not for the harsh words he knew would greet him the second Ron laid eyes upon him--the "sneaking queer snake". He flinched at the remembrance of the words and dragged down another deep breath. He had said nothing out right about being ...homosexual... in fact, no such words had left his mouth in the short but terrifying conversation between himself and the stupid Ronald-git only an hour earlier.

So what if he thought Malfoy had gotten a bit more fit over the Christmas break? He felt no attraction to the slimy monstrosity of a boy.

Harry sighed again, sure that it wouldn’t be safe to go in, not even if he managed to sneak in behind Neville--who was now walking up the stairs down the hall—it was more than likely that everyone knew Harry's slip up by now.

Harry's betrayal.


Harry's--stupid friggin'—compliment to a Slytherin!

With the way the other students had been acting ever since he had spoken to the poor, upset, magic-ed serpent at the Duelling Club meeting, he wouldn't be surprised if they all thought he was going to go and shack up with his "beau" in the Slytherin dormitory. Ugh, his fellow Gryffindors, for all their courage, were a bunch of absolute dunderheads when rumours started.

"Hey, Harry?" Harry started under his cloak and looked at Neville who was looking around. "Um, you know, if it makes you feel any better, I don't care if you are...you know."

Yes, Neville I know what you mean.

"Thank-you, Neville."

Neville jumped in surprise, obviously not expecting Harry to be so close.

Harry bit back another sigh and continued, "The password's Bertie Botts’ Every-Flavoured Beans, by the way."

"Thanks, Harry, if you ever need someone to stand up for you I'll... find someone else." With a pathetic try at a joking, light laugh Neville walked through the opened portrait hole, waving a meek good-bye to the invisible boy.

"Thanks... Neville." Harry whispered into his knees, at least the scared boy tried.




"Look there he is."

"Did you see that!"

"Oh my--eep!" Harry shot a look at the Hufflepuff girl that silenced her faster than a Silencio spell. Maybe deciding he needed supper hadn't been such a good idea. After all, he could go much longer than the 3 days it had been without food. But if he didn’t, the professors would start asking....unwanted… questions.

Just as he was about to step into the Great Hall, he felt a hand softly grip his shoulder.

"Mr. Potter, Madame Pomfrey requires your presence in the Hospital Wing." Snape murmured—almost-- kindly near his ear. Harry sneered and bit back a retort. He guessed that he was to be offered food by the kind Medi-Witch who he had seen--possibly--more than any other Gryffindor in the history of the school. Admittedly, he was unconscious half the time, but...same innards, different skins. Right?

"Yes, Professor." Harry bit out Snape's title and spun away, knowing damned well that his robes had just... billowed. Ha! That was all to the good, he could say he was mocking the Potions Master.

"Oh and, detention, tomorrow evening, 7 o’clock sharp, Mr. Potter,"

Ah, yes. Back to the drawl and sneer. Much. More. Preferable.

Harry entered the Medi-Witch's office upon her beckoning. They had given up such formalities as beds half-way through first year, and gone straight to comfortable chairs in her office—if, of course, his body was in good enough condition. He seemed to do his best healing there, in private, with her soft voice.

"Hello, Harry. please…" She nodded to the soft cushioned chair in front of her, and Harry gladly took it. He glanced around, not much had changed since his last che—visit, four days ago, mere hours before Ron’s... explosion.

"You have new curtains." He observed, slowly, hesitantly.

"Yes, dear, I do. But, Harry, the bush can't take any more of that beating. You know why you are here."

He looked at her soft, kindly face. "Yes, but generally,...you ask."

She gave him one of her comforting smiles. "Harry, how have you been?"

Harry smiled back, a bit wryly. "I called Draco fit... I think." Only here was it safe to use his name; anyone's name was safe to say here. "Ron took it to heart and kind of blew up… well, no. He really exploded. I've been...I've been avoiding the Great Hall, since then. And my common room and the dorm. I've been sleeping in an abandoned class room...near the dungeons ever since. I call it my keep. And, I...," he hesitated, knowing the disappointment he would see in her eyes when he looked up—he hated it when he couldn't please her. "I’ve not been eating either."

"How long, Harry?"

"Um, since my last visit."

"Harry, eat." He looked up and saw a plate containing two sandwiches sitting before him. "Ham, your favourite. But we cannot have you eating too much too fast, for fear of upsetting your stomach, like your first day and night here."

Poppy knew (and Harry knew she knew) about how he was treated at the Dursleys, even though he’d never spoken about it outright. She didn't know it all though, and a part of him was glad she didn’t.

She said it was because of how he acted, most of the time. Harry didn't see where she got that though; he’d never noticed anything out of the usual about how he acted. Nothing. Ever. In his entire life. Had he every acted not normal.

Well,...except maybe that one time when he—NO! he was perfectly normal!

...for the Boy-Who-Lived.




"Thank-you for coming, Harry. I want to see you again on Sunday afternoon."

"Yes, Poppy."

Poppy tsk-ed and shook her head gently; "Harry, outside of the office it is Madame Pomfrey. Now, get along. I'm sure you'll find your hidden keep quite to your liking."

Harry looked at her curiously, but he knew she would say nothing more, and gave up searching her all-knowing eyes for their hidden answers and trotted off, the same spring in his step he was aware was there after every... visit.

He hummed on his way to his keep, knowing he would meet no one. He never really did after his visits with Poppy, unless he wanted to. It was odd. Maybe it was just one of the Medi-Witch’s workings.
Poppy had won his trust long ago, broken through the shell and mask he had so long tried to pretend weren’t there. But only her; even with Hermione and Ron—the git—he’d kept his lips sealed until he wasn’t the only one suggesting or opposing something—something Poppy had long ago stopped scolding him about.

He opened his door and stopped dead, catching his breath in surprise. The formerly empty and dusty room was now furnished with a bed with red and silver drapes, a side table, and a wardrobe. He also spotted a door in the right-hand wall that he was almost positive led to a bathroom.

 

How did that darned Medi-Witch do it?

The End.
End Notes:
Thanks once again to dancingkatz...
Ugh, I'm so un-Slytherin today, sorry guys. :/

I got my nose re-pierced, won't bore you with the story as to how it fell out and healed the first time, but DAMN it hurt this time round! D:
Chapter 2 -- Severus by Delphin
Author's Notes:
I've decided to, instead of like before, use Sev's first nae for title's because I refer to him as Severus in the story more often then I refer to him as Snape. :)

 

Severus Snape watched the Potter spawn gasp as he entered the abandoned class room, which was not so abandoned anymore.

He smirked to himself, the boy was pleased, which was what Poppy had wanted, was it not? He was done with his work here—done with any interactions with the Potter boy until tomorrow evening at 7:00 o’clock. Hopefully, the boy would finish the detention without injuring or maiming himself. That’s what the brat got for refusing Severus' rare kindness and then having the audacity to mock him!

The Potions Master strode past the almost closed door, carefully checking to see if his enchantments to keep the true nature of the room hidden had worked. They had. No one but he, the Headmaster, Poppy, and Potter himself would ever again be able to see the room, much less enter it.

Severus quietly pondered his willingness to help the son of the man who had made his youth a living hell. He had noted, as had certain others, Potter’s absence at meals over the past four days. He’d also heard his colleagues in the staff room mention how Potter had begun sitting apart from his friends. In his own class the boy now partnered Neville Longbottom, making that incompetent whelp an outcast as well.

By now all the staff had heard about Potter’s slip up—complimenting one of his Snakes, of course. By the time it had reached their ears it had been blown so wildly out of proportion that Severus doubted the Potter spawn had done more than say Draco had been a bit less than exceptionally crude and lacking to his eye. Who knew what Weasley had translated certain words or phrases to in his brain…if that poor thing he kept trapped in his head could even be called a brain.

Arriving in his office, he looked scornfully at the papers still waiting to be graded on his desk. They could wait for a night, and were definitely not going anywhere, much to Severus’ chagrin. He had fallen behind due to Poppy’s request. Of course, the last thing he would do was hold it over his old friend’s head, but she had sent him back at least a couple hours by having him arrange Potter’s hidey-hole.

He greatly disapproved of the Headmaster and Medi-Witch letting the boy stay there; it was just like the brat to hide in the face of adversity.

What about the first year incidents?, a little voice whispered in the back of his mind. And the magic-ed snake, this year?

Those mattered not! This is a much easier task, all the boy has to do is settle the rumours.

You know how hard that is.

Shut up!


 

 

‘You’ve got a gypsy soul to blame, and you were born for leaving.’

 

Severus jolted awake and found his cheeks wet with tears. How weak had he gotten!

Tears over a simple…memory.

Of her…of Lily.

He clasped his hand over the locket that lay hidden under his nightshirt against his breast, and took several deep, calming breaths. It mattered not how much he wished for her return.

She was dead.

Long dead, gone.

Never to return. Never to smile at him again.

Never… ever.

Severus turned his attention to the clock on the nightstand and shook his head. The one thing he never wanted to keep was still ingrained in him. Even after all these years he still was captive to his father’s damned obsession at getting up well before any reasonable hour—except for perhaps the Muggle military. He snorted with disgust.

5:00 a.m. Even those warring Muggles likely got more rest than he did!

Well, there were always those essays to get graded. He was never loathe to hand the assignments out…because he never really remembered the frustration of grading the chicken-scratch he got handed in to him. Were never these children taught to properly use a quill?

Time for the daily headache to start…and people wondered why I’m so damn approachable,. he thought, with a sour grin.

The End.
End Notes:
Thank to dancingkatz for beta reading and editing, once again. :)
She did this for the eight chapters she retrieved for me.
:)

Love,
Aching Nosed Delphin/Emily

I just really realized how short all these chapters are, I'll try to change that in the future, and keep it in mind for Mothers Love too. :)
Chapter 3 -- Harry by Delphin

 

Harry sat staring over at the Slytherin table.

Be more specific.

Harry sat in his usual spot at the Gryffindor table examining Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy got something on his face, mate?" Ron murmured around a mouthful of food. Harry knew Mrs. Weasley tried, but he couldn't help to hold it against her for never teaching Ron proper table manners. His Aunt had taught him despite her distaste, and even if it had been with fake food, a switch, and threats of a hot stove top, he had learned.

"No, nothing on his face. Ron. I can't even see the ugly ferret’s snout from here anyways." The insults slid easily from Harry tongue; too easily, he felt. It didn't take long to take the same road as Dudley. "He just looks...different."

"Different how, Harry?" Hermione asked from beside him, after swallowing. At least some of the brat-- stop-- at least some of his House mates had proper table manners.

"Just... off. He looks like he got taller." Harry whispered before swallowing a bite of steak, barely aware of the little voice in the back of his head that reminded him that nothing was to be wasted, for food was much too precious.

"Harry, are you trying to say Draco looks... fit!?" Ginny squeaked indignantly from beside him.

"What!? No- I... UGH! Ginny, no!" Ginny recoiled as if stung, and Harry sighed a little on the inside. "Well, I don't know, if it was implied, sure." Harry muttered, trying to comfort the smitten red-head.

"Harry! Did you just-!?" Ron looked at him with wide unbelieving eyes. What had he said? "Did you just call Malfoy... fit?" Ron lowered his voice, yet it still pierced Harry's ears.

Oh, learn to whisper quietly you gi- Ron.

"No, Ronald, Harry didn't, did you Harry?" Hermione, smart and just, Hermione.

"But he implied it!" Ron hissed, drawling out the word he probably didn't understand.

"Well...I might have implied it." Harry murmured, thinking sharply. How could Ginny say that; did she want him skinned alive!? Didn't she know the worst possible Gryffindor rule to break was to compliment a Slytherin!

"Harry, we need to talk!" Ron dragged him from the Great hall, to just outside the entrance doors so no one could hear him hollering.

Boy, did Ron have a bark!

"Gay! Harry how could you be queer!? And not tell me! NOT TELL ANYONE!! And MALFOY!? Why Malfoy? WHY'S HE SO GREAT!? Huh, you turning your back on all of US!?"

Harry looked Ron up and down. The red head was flushed with anger, glaring at him, his stance unsteady and his nostril flaring.

"Ron, I'm not—"

"Don't lie to me, Harry! Of course you're queer! You’re as gay as Lockhart! You... you.. sneaking queer SNAKE!"

Ron charged back into the Great Hall.

What the hell is wrong with the people in my House!?



Harry winced as he woke from the memory/dream, he had them often, about things that stressed him out. And apparently this was the latest instigator...oh, joy. The last thing he needed was to have to dream it over and over again.

Right now Harry would enjoy nothing more than to go and strangle the idiotic git of a Weasley for what he was saying. After all they'd been through together over the past year and a half… from crashing Mr. Weasley’s car, to Ron living with him being a Parselmouth, drinking Polyjuice potion and becoming the oddly Dudders-like Slytherins, sneaking into Slytherin common room, and hiding Hermione.

As far as Harry knew he was not gay, and he didn't care, even if he was. As far as he knew, only the old Pureblood families still stuck to the same belief as Muggles—that being gay was wrong. Harry was sure that most people wouldn’t care... even in his own house. He’d be able to go back if it was only the matter of his sexuality.

Stupid friggin' Slytherin ferret! Stupid friggin' close-minded Weasel. Harry went on to curse anyone who was even remotely involved with the situation, including himself, multiple times.

Harry finally found it appropriate to roll from bed, and cast a quick tempus.

6:00 a.m. Of course, if he were back with the Dursleys he be up by now slicing the fat off Aunt Petunia's bacon, and sizzling it up, just so Uncle Vernon could gorge himself before going to work.

Friggin' whales, the lot of 'em!

Harry kicked the side table and cursed sharply, the bed may have a cushioning charm, but the damn bedside table didn't. He sat back down and examined the aching digit; it looked like it was nothing serious, maybe some bruising. He'd live.

He tuned out the dull ache and walked across the room to his new wardrobe. Opening the sliding doors, he pulled out his uniform and winced at the echoing emptiness of the spacious cupboard. It was practically a second room.

He'd fill it up, he promised himself, by the end of the year.

Something occurred to him then... Would his new, hidden keep still be there when he arrived from the Dursleys after the summer hols?

The End.
End Notes:
dancingkatz beta-ed. :)

Love,
Delphin/Emily
Chapter 4 -- Severus by Delphin

Severus slid his hand down across his face, sighing softly, and cursing the brats that stalked the halls of the wretched school. None of them, excluding his Snakes, could seem to manage anything better then scribbles leading across their pages. If not for his years of practice at deciphering the awful print he would have just failed their essays for being such… horrible penmanship. He likely would have gotten fired for that, or at least suspended for a couple months—for which he would have been more than grateful—if not for the Headmaster, who held his love for Lily and his promise to her over his head.

Constantly.

It sickened Severus to the point of wanting to kill the man, even the Dark Lord himself would not hold such a thing over someone’s head, he’d simply kill the person… a much more merciful punishment than being a slave to an insufferable fool who refused to see beyond his own half-moon glasses.

By breakfast time Severus was nearly done grading the essays (thanks to running into a large number written by his Snakes who had learned very quickly that neatness counted). With only three left to complete, he felt he deserved a break. Today, he decided, he would eat in his quarters. Professors were only obliged to spend two meals—praise Merlin—a day in the great hall. Severus thought he might be able to bear eating lunch and supper in the same room as all the brats today—if a reasonable number of Gryffindors were absent.

He called a house elf, ordered a light breakfast to be delivered to his office, and then looked back down at the essay that sat atop the pile. Potters. Oh, joy.

He examined the boy’s chicken scratch excuse for writing and groaned.

If the boy had cheated by letting Granger write it, Severus thought, I’d have only taken away half the grade. But no, he must think enough of himself to scribble out an essay in the worst possible hand writing I have ever had the misfortune to see.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose as a headache develop. This would take a while.

But… it didn’t. Had he really become so used to Potter’s writing that he could read it that well? And much to his surprise, Lily’s son had managed to get it right; everything. The work that lay before him was equivalent to what he expected from his 6th year Snakes, not a imbecilic 2nd year Lion. Severus shook his head, astounded. He was tempted to give the boy his usual P, but he dared not mark it lower because he hated the boy. No… he wouldn’t sink to Minerva’s level. He marked the essay—an O—and then sat back to think. Surely the boy didn’t get his brains from Potter, and Lily had been studious but she was so intelligent that she could do work higher than her year required. Maybe it was just… amplified through the generations. Yes that was it, because there was no way he could be… no, he had counted… and she had said… No!... he wasn’t!… what if he…

What if he was Harry’s father?

z88;

Severus swept into his classroom, and instantly everyone and everything went silent. No one dared to risk his glare and vitriolic tongue. He turned when he reached the front and surveyed his Snakes, all sitting on the left side of the classroom, the separation from Minerva’s Lions delineated perfectly down the centre of the classroom room. He allowed himself a hint of a grin, just a twitch of his lips, the behaviour of the rival Houses was… amusing?

He pointed his wand at the board and his writing from the previous night appeared, as if being written again in his exact scrawl, so much like Har- No, no thinking of that here!

“Begin,” he ordered, and began walking through the aisles. He’d never been one to stay still and seemed to be everywhere at once. His apparent omniscience in the classroom terrified even his Snakes at times.

“Neville, you’re doing it wr-”

“Talking! Potter, do you want another detention?” Seeing the boy’s expression tighten sharply, oddly enough, didn’t give him the satisfaction as it usually would, even as Draco (and company) and a majority of the Gryffindors sniggered.

“No, sir. Sorry, sir.”

Severus snorted and swept away to stand behind Draco and Gregory, close enough to eavesdrop, but far enough away no one could call him on it.

“Sorry, Harry.”

“Don’t be, it’s not your faul- don’t stir so fast!” Severus turned his head at the still taking boys, only slightly, as to not show he really heard, but so he could see them out of the corner of his eye. He was, dare he think it, impressed that the boy had caught Longbottom‘s mistake. “If you stir to fast it’ll fizz, and you do not want it to fizz, Neville.”

“What- what’ll happen?”

“BOOM!” The “Golden boy” said in a voice still surprisingly low, but enough to startle the Longbottom child. “Then, detention.”

“Right… don’t want that.”

“Slow down your stirring then!” Severus grinned, the side effects of stirring as fast as Longbottom had been would not have made an explosion as large as Harry said it would, it would merely make the noise—wait… What if that was what the boy had meant ?—Impossible! Severus snorted softly at even thinking such a thing, the boy might be able to copy into his own words what the text books said, but he certainly couldn’t apply his mock knowledge to reality.

The End.
End Notes:
beta-ed by danchingkatz, you can find her profile from "authors" page. :)

With lots of cynical Slytherin-like love,
Delphin/Emily
Chapter 5 -- Harry by Delphin

 

Harry shifted in his seat next to Neville, smiling softly at the shy boy as he slowed down his stirring. He felt Snape’s stare but thought nothing of it. The professor couldn’t do much worse than his own House already had. Neville sent a small grin back at Harry when his potion stopped bubbling.

“Very good.” Harry praised the boy, knowing that was the best way to help him improve and for information to stick, and then went back to his own simmering potion. It currently sat at the 3 quarter check point and just needed to simmer for about one more minute before Harry could put out the low flame underneath he cauldron and add the ground dragon claw to the mixture.

Neville sat staring at Harry’s potion with squinted eyes, humming softly under his breath, like he always did when he was thinking.

“What is it, Neville?” Harry murmured, keeping a close eye on the Potion Master, as the stern, constantly moving man did another circulation of the classroom.

“Since when are you so good at Potions?”

“Since everyone stopped thinking I was the Golden Boy, and I have had time to myself.” Harry muttered, a soft sneer in his voice. “Neville, just shut up, okay?” Neville nodded slowly, and looked down, hurt. Harry was almost moved to reconcile with him, but didn’t. At this point it was better to distance himself from anyone in his House.

He hoped.

At least if Neville stayed away from him, the other boy wouldn’t be an outcast any longer.

Twitching his wand, he extinguished the flame under the cauldron, then picking up the small bottle of ground dragon claw, he sifted through it to make sure it had not been tampered with and sprinkled it over the top of his potion. The effect was instantaneous, just as the text said it would be. The dark, Gryffindor red and gold of the potion changed to the true colours of Harry’s thoughts and feelings, silver and green.

Chuckling darkly at the irony, he ladled out some of the thin potion into a vial, stoppered it, and swished it around until it was clear. He had done everything right; from choosing the best of the available ingredients to perfect preparation and temperature, it was exactly as it should be. He looked up, no one else was done… Gits, the lot of ‘em! This was simpler than the Polyjuice potion! And even Hermione hadn‘t finished yet!

Harry Evanesco-ed the remaining contents in his cauldron, and put away his supplies. Then pulling out an extra bit of parchment, he wrote:

Potions class: Finished “True Colours” potion (amazingly creative name by the way), 5 foot essay on poisonous properties of dragon claw due to be returned at end of class, ignored professors jabs.

Tonight: Detention- Professor Snape’s office- 7:00 p.m.

Harry had taken to writing down the events of his day, or more precisely, the events of his latest class and what the Professor of that class wanted from him. It kept him occupied, and gave him something to do in History of Magic other than fall asleep. Also, Poppy seemed to enjoy the little notes Harry took on each of his classes. She said it gave her a nice laugh sometimes. Most of the time when he took them he wasn’t attempting to make them funny, even though they did seem that way when he read them over with her. Harry glanced back up to the board and frowned, had the Professors writing always so resembled his?

“Done, Potter?”

When the hell did you get behind me!? “Yes, sir, I am.”


The lunch break was drawing to a close and as Harry finished the sandwich one of the house elves had provided his thoughts were drawn to what he would do about Herbology. It was necessary that each student worked with a different partner at each class meeting. At the last class Harry had worked with Neville, and the class before that he had worked by himself. He supposed he could see if he would be allowed to work by himself again, but the chances of Professor Sprout permitting that were very slim. Harry sighed. He’d wait and see. If he couldn’t, he could just slip away after role call and get the lecture notes from Neville.

Picking the lettuce from the remains of his sandwich, he nibbled on it and picking up the slice of bread to take to class with him. He’d finish it on the way to the Greenhouses. Dragging his book bag from under his chair he peered out the small, shaded window to make sure no one would see him appearing from his new room. He could just stand being chased from his common room, but to be chased of his only other true home would break him entirely. Seeing the coast was clear he slipped out the door and raced down the hall. Neville was always first to class to help Professor Sprout with setting up; he’d ask her when he got there if he could work alone again before anyone else arrived.

As he pulled around the corner and trotted down the hill to Greenhouse Four he saw a shadow following him. He pretended not to see it, but picked up his pace a little bit as it crept close to the wall near him. He decided that he wouldn’t turn to face whoever was following him. He’d either see a Gryffindor or a Slytherin, and he wanted to see neither at the moment.

“Hey, Potter, slow down a second. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Malfoy, great.

Harry spun around, catching his balance before he could fall, his wand in hand. Malfoy looked him up and down, grinning.

“So what’s this about you thinking I’m fit?”

Cocky, bastard!

Harry calmed himself, there was no point in starting a fight with the git. it’d just give Malfoy the satisfaction that the “great Harry Potter” was as weak as Lucius told him.

“I said no such thing, but… you seem taller. Did you grow over winter holidays?” Harry’s blunt, monotone voice caught the cocky Snake off guard for a few moments before he looked away, blushing.

“Yes, I did. Two inches. No one… No one else noticed.” Malfoy whispered, as if ashamed and hurt.

Harry’s heart suddenly ached to see that look on his—past—enemy’s face that he had seen so many times on his own when he looked in the mirror and saw the scars and mistakes that no one else truly seemed to.

“Look, you need a Herbology partner?” Harry suddenly asked.

“Yeah, but I was... never mind… If you’re really willing to risk your reputation even further. The Gryffs already think you’re already sleeping in my dorm.”

“Let them think what they want.” Harry muttered as he matched his pace with Draco’s towards the Greenhouses. “I was never really one of them anyway.”

He felt Draco’s look, but did not, and would not, elaborate.

The End.
End Notes:
dancingkatz, omg, you're amazing for beta reading all these. I *ugh* I owe ya one. :)

Bitter love,
Delphin/Emily
Chapter 6 -- Severus by Delphin

There was something about the familiar chill of the dungeons that made him relax immensely, un-tensing his shoulders and sighing out all the impossibilities that had floated around him for what seemed like forever. There was no possible way he could be Harry’s father.

The Headmaster had not just confronted Severus about thinking about the first ever re-Sorting- “Just to check, my boy”.

Harry would never be in Slytherin; if anything the Hat would blow some sort of fuse trying to figure out where the boy belonged now.

Yes, that was it. Severus was safe, down in his safe dungeon there would be no possible future of split loyalties; he could appear to hate Potter as long as was necessary.

But Severus knew that was a lie. He’d already slipped up so many times! Just at the possibility of Harry being his son. But even the idea of turning the boy into one of his Snakes, gave Severus the jitters. He had started slipping away regularly in classes when he had Minerva’s Lions. Harry was amongst them and Severus had already seen so many things that further proved his suspisio- No! STOP!

There was no way… and he wasn’t going to get his hopes up about it. Harry was not his son, had never been his son, and would never be his son, there was just no possible way.

It wasn’t possible. The one night he had spent with Lily so long ago hadn’t actually happened. She had not gotten pregnant with his son. She had gone home to Potter the very next morning and they had had made love. Harry James—bloody—Potter was not Severus Snape’s bloody son, and all the gods would have to rampage to change his mind now!

Snape slipped into his classroom behind the final Ravenclaw and strode to the front of the room. Staring out upon his Advanced students he smirked at Daisy Gilt- a Hufflepuff 5th year- and got started on the lesson. He was always so glad he got to teach to at least one set if competent students each year—not that he’d ever let them know it!

The End.
End Notes:
dancingkatz
Dancing cats come form Mars, but this one's from right here on Earth, go show her some love in Review on her story from. :)
*shame* This one is so short, I never realized it. :(
Lobe, Delphin/Emily
Chapter 7 -- Harry by Delphin

 

Herbology was definitely an adventure! From the scandalized looks coming from half way down the workbench, Hermione definitely hadn’t believed that Ron and Harry had had an end-it-all fight. Her eyes widened and then narrowed as she turned to glare at Ron, who instantly started trying to defend himself.

As the argument continued on Draco picked up a berry and grinned at Harry wickedly. It took a moment for Draco’s plan to make its way to Harry’s brain, and by the time he realised what the Slytherin intended, the large juicy berry was already on its way to Ron’s head.

Harry stifled his laughter and continued doing the set class work with Draco, as Ron was rushed off to the hospital wing because he was “allergic” to those particular berries, which Harry highly doubted, since if he was allergic to them, he would have said so at the beginning of class and been excused.

“Harry!” He looked up from patting the soil down in the third planter and turned his gaze from Draco, who was sneering at someone , to Neville who shifted up beside him.

“Hey, Neville. What’s up?” Harry wiped soil from his hands and looked at the quivering boy.

“Not much, but, I was wondering…” Neville trailed off and Harry raised an eyebrow and urged him on, ignoring Draco’s snort of disdain. “Well, I was wondering if you could give me any tips?”

“About…?”

“Well, you see, there’s this person I like, and… well, you’re really the only person that will talk to me… so…anything?” Neville’s voice cracked here and there, but his odd new found confidence made Harry grin.

“Well, it depends what this person is like. But to show any girl.. or guy… that you like them… socialize with them, talk to them, give the your utmost attention when you speak with them. Oh, and if the person likes physical contact, give them plenty, but if not, a touch on the arm once in a while should be enough to start the person receiving your signals.” Harry smiled when Neville thanked him. When the other boy left smiling, he saw that the rest of the greenhouse had cleared out by now and his free period was about to begin.

“How do you know that!?” Draco asked, in an almost scandalized tone as he and Harry started trotting up the small hill up to the castle.

“Well, my Aunt Petunia gave Dudley “the talk” sometime over the past summer, and I listened in a bit when she gave him advice. I tweaked it a bit though, some of the stuff she said was outrageous. You can’t get any sensible person to like you by treating them like scum stuck to the bottom of your runners. Fear isn’t the same as love.”

Draco paused when they got to the Entrance Hall. “I need to go drop my books off.”

Harry nodded and watched the other boy disappear down the stairs to the Slytherin dormitory before sliding up against the wall and opening the secret passage that led to his keep. He backed into the narrow corridor, unaware of the deep blue eyes that watched him.

The End.
End Notes:
One more chapter to upload before I get to start writing them again~~~
Snake-y kisses, Delphin/Emily
Chapter 8 -- Severus by Delphin

Severus watched for a reaction in Dumbledore’s eyes at Draco and Harry’s interaction, but the only notable difference was a dimming of the light that had shone there since Harry had entered the doors to Hogwarts. He grunted and pulled Dumbledore back as Harry slid into his keep.

“Happy, Albus?”

“I’d be lying to you if I said I was, Severus. But what must be done must be done.” Dumbledore’s eyes looked dull now, the eternally bright optimism fading and admitting defeat. “He has detention with you tonight, I believe?”

“Indeed, he does.”

“Bring him up to my office and we shall re-Sort him then.” Dumbledore gloomily swept by the stoic Potions Master who turned to watch the Headmaster vanish up the stairs before grinning, a triumphant chuckle forming in his throat.

“No son of mine is going to grow up a Gryffindor.”


 

Silence filled the room as the door to the potions store shut and locked. No students would walk the aisles of the Potions lab for two days. Checking the classroom one last time, Severus muttered a quick Nox, closed the door, and began walking through the seemingly endless maze of hallways that made up the dungeons.

Supper had ended only an hour ago, most of students were dozing over homework, and most of the teachers had shut themselves into their quarters for the night. But not him; the job of the Slytherin Head of House was never done.

He slid silently into his Common Room, watching as his Slytherins continued to talk, completely unaware of his presence. He glided along the wall, eavesdropping to see what the students were up to.

“The Weasel twins are planning something.” Gregory muttered to Vincent as they stuffed their faces with candy from their parents.

“Dyed my hair pink, Professor McGonagall transfigured it back though.” Kimbley snorted, crossing his arms with a huff.

“Merlin, I cannot stand the little twit!” Pansy snorted as she picked through a small box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavoured Beans.

Severus smiled gently and continued around perimeter of the room until he had reached the stage. Raised only a single step off the ground, it was just high enough to be able to see the entire room, and all its occupants... and for all the occupants to see him.

Draco was the first to spot him standing there, hands folded behind his back, waiting. He nodded and whispered to Pansy, who looked up and then whispered to Kelly, who blinked, looked once and passed it on to Jackson and Kimbley, who passed it on to Gregory and Vincent, and so on and so forth until the Common Room had quieted and everyone looked to him.

“Good-evening, my Snakes.” He offered them a small smile. “I have two announcements and then I shall leave you to your studying and other pursuits.

“First, un-altered cats within the school are becoming an issue.” He glanced at all the shifting cat owners in the room. “The Headmaster requires that you have your familiar either spayed or neutered as appropriate at the earliest opportunity as we do not need kittens running around the castle.

“Second, a new Slytherin may be joining us tomorrow evening. I expect you to welcome him with open arms. You all know what he has been put through so far this year and he needs no more punishment for being who he is. I suspect you all know to whom I refer.” He watched as his Snakes nodded, and a few even smiled, the prospect of having Harry in their midst somehow exhilarating them.

“That is all, then. Good-night.”

"Good-night, Professor.” They chorused as he walked out the door. He halted outside and smirked when a babble of voices immediately broke out behind the closed door.

His house might not have the best reputation, they weren’t the easiest to handle, and they might not be the nicest of people. But in the end, the seven years of watching them grow and learn made it all worth the pain.

The End.
End Notes:
I get to write now~
I get to write now! :D
Many Argablargs,
Delphin/Emily
Chapter 9 -- Harry by Delphin

Harry continued along the secret passage that would let him out into the dungeon hallway right across from the door to his keep, amused at the fact that even though the passage didn’t slope at all he’d be two levels lower than the castle’s main entrance when he left it. He was about to open the camouflaged door when he heard voices in the main corridor. He didn’t recognise them but their topic of conversation came through loud and clear. They were discussing him—again.

Apparently, his “error”—blown completely out of proportion—was now common knowledge in the entire school.

Lovely.

All the pleasure and peace he’d felt over the past hour and a half drained away and he suddenly felt short of breath and sick. He only waited long enough for the last of the voices to fade away before leaving the secret passage and escaping into his keep, slamming the door behind him.

His gut twisted and Harry leant against his closed door, shivering. Couldn’t he have at least one day where everything went right?

His upset stomach was joined by a headache and chills as his book bag fell unheeded from his shoulder to the floor. He rubbed at his forehead, surprised to find beads of sweat under his fingers. Was he getting sick? Sighing, he slid to the floor and closed his eyes, hearing the snide remarks all over again.

Can’t get a friggin’ break, can I?

Merlin forbid that The-Boy-Who-Lived ever have a completely good day!

He couldn’t even be certain if the feverish feelings racking him were from an actual illness or just stress, and right now, he didn’t really care which it was.

Things were getting to be too much for him to handle. Last year’s events—forgotten by the rest of the students except for his winning Gryffindor the House Cup—still haunted him; especially Quirrell, who had quite literally died at his hands. Then there was summer with the Dursleys, who were the authors of most of the stress in his life since he could remember, which was aggravated by the visit from Dobby the House Elf.

And don’t forget friggin’ Lockheart.

No, the DADA teacher certainly wasn’t helping matters with his insistence on Harry “helping” him in class and his dotingly obnoxious advice on how to handle fame.

Miserable, Harry let the other events of the term wash over his mind.

The attack on Mrs. Norris, for which he received the blame, just because he, Ron and Hermione had been the first people to find her…

Lockheart’s pathetic excuse for a Dueling Club that out-ed him as a Parseltongue.

That poor magic-ed snake…

It wasn’t like he woke up one morning and decided “I’m going to speak Parseltongue.” He hadn’t even known he wasn’t speaking English, but everyone thought the whole incident was his fault.

Just like everything else around this stupid, friggin’ school.

He dropped his hand and opened his eyes to stare wearily at his bed with its invitingly comfortable pillows and blankets. He was so tired of all of this. When he’d come here, he’d thought he’d found a new home. But lately, even though he still loved Hogwarts and magic, it was as bad as at the Dursleys’.

Confusing unwritten rules, people who hate me, being blamed for stuff I can’t. Friggin’. Help!

Is it so wrong to want a place to call home?

Ignoring the fallen book bag, he lurched to his feet and staggered to the bed. He fell onto it, not bothering to take off his school robes, and closed his eyes against the sickness or stress or whatever it was as well as the nagging thought that he would never have a place that was his real home. Ever.


Harry woke up to his clock announcing “It’s quarter to seven, go to detention!” and groaned. He didn’t remember falling asleep.

Hell. I hardly remember coming back here.

He sat up and grimaced as a twinge behind his left eye reminded him of the headache and fever and the wretched thoughts that had accompanied them. He touched his forehead and was cautiously pleased to find it cool and dry.

Good. I doubt that I could find a House Elf to bring me a fever reducer from the Hospital Wing before I have to report to Snape.

A second grimace graced his face at the thought of the detention he had in—ten minutes. At least it was only a two minute walk to the Potions classroom which meant he wouldn’t be late and hack off Snape even more than he already was.

Hastily changing from his rumpled uniform to a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt, he snorted in disgust at his trepidation. No one liked Snape’s detentions, and since the Bloody Bat hated Harry a thousand times more than he hated anyone else it guaranteed that Harry’s detentions were always a thousand times worse than an ordinary detention, but he knew that the man would never, ever raise a hand to him.

So why am I acting like he’s going to hurt me worse than Uncle Vernon’s “presents”, Dudley’s Harry Hunting, and Aunt Petunia starving me for the entire summer hols?

The clock chimed again. “Six fifty-eight, you’ll be late!”

Sighing, Harry left his keep, automatically tugging his fringe over his scar as he ran towards the Potions classroom, wondering where the confidence he’d felt this morning had gone.

The End.
End Notes:
Thanks again to dancingkatz for beta-ing!
I'd be useless without you, I beleive you're the only one to have ever seen the un-beta-ed chapter 9! I'm ashamed of how many mistakes there were!
Please, go check out and send love and thanks to her, if she wasn't willing to beta you'd all be reading horse crap right now!

Much love,
Delphin/Emily
Chapter 10 -- Severus by Delphin

A half an hour had passed since the House meeting had concluded and Severus spent that time in his office grading a Seventh Year term project report. Luckily, the Ravenclaw was one of his few students who actually followed instructions and wrote neatly, unlike the majority of the students in the school but the tediousness of reading and marking comments and corrections made the task irksome. Though he normally didn’t drink when he had students due for detention, he had poured himself a small tumbler of Firewhiskey halfway through the pages. Given the events of the day and knowing that he would be facing yet another meeting with the Headmaster as well as dealing with a probably soon-to-be-upset Harry Potter in a short while he needed the rejuvenating-yet-relaxing properties of the fiery liquor to keep him on an even keel. He absently reminded himself to use a breath freshening potion before the boy arrived for his scheduled detention as his latest sip burned its way down his throat. He didn’t need the trouble that arriving in the Headmaster’s office with alcohol on his breath would be in addition to everything else.

He made a final notation to the report before leaning back in his chair, his hands cradling the almost empty glass. There was still about a half an hour before the boy would arrive at the Potions classroom, more than enough time to decide how he was going to present the news that the erstwhile Gryffindor was going to be Re-Sorted.

He frowned at the number of possible reactions—most of them negative, and decided with his usual Slytherin cunning to let Dumbledore tell the boy. Potter would be upset and the Headmaster may as well be the focus of the yelling and tantrums.

He smiled thinly as he slowly finished off the whiskey, and opened the desk drawer to get the breath freshening potion. The tumbler and bottle were secured, the mouthful of the mint-flavoured potion almost but not quite soothing the stinging in the back of his throat, and the last of the grading stupor vanished.

Just as the clock on the office wall struck seven, he heard the sound of knocking on the classroom door. Though the door connecting his office and the classroom was closed, the sound carried from the other room courtesy of a charm he’d created when he was a Sixth Year. He coughed softly into the back of his hand and donned his best scowl as he went to answer the classroom door.

He unlocked the door and pulled it open with a dramatic flare of his robes. He made sure to hide his amusement as the boy automatically cringed. A moment later, the boy dropped the hand that was apparently rubbing at his scar and met Severus’ scowl with one of his own.

“On time for once, I see, Mr. Potter.” Severus drawled as he produced a vial of headache reliever. Harry’s surprise was evident and the Potions Master smirked.

I suppose he thinks he managed to hide it. He’ll soon learn that I see everything… even the things he doesn’t want me to see.

“Take this. We are going to the Headmaster office.” He frowned as the boy hesitated before accepting the vial but nodded with approval as Harry read the label and sniffed the contents before swallowing it in two quick gulps.

“Thank you, sir.”

Severus noted that the boy’s voice was quiet for once, as he handed the empty vial back. “Why are we going to the Headmasters office—um, sir?”

“You shall find out when we get there. Now, come.” Severus turned Harry about and urged him down the corridor towards the stairs, and when he hesitated rested his handed on the boy’s shoulder, guiding him up to the Headmasters office.


 

Dollop Danish.“ The password sourly slid off his tongue like acid rain. Severus would never understand the Headmaster’s need to use the names of sweets for his passwords. It was undignified, anyone who had ever met the Headmaster could probably figure out the password in a few minutes and it certainly ruined the mood and destroyed a carefully orchestrated sense of fear and tension when a misbehaving student was sent up to the Headmaster’s office for disciplining.

He heard the soon-to-be-Re-Sorted boy try to stifle a snicker as the gargoyle leapt away, providing access to the stairs. Glancing down he saw that Harry was attempting to muffle his laughter behind his hand. Was his hatred of the password really that obvious or was it just that the child found the password itself hilarious?

I’ve always thought the Headmaster’s passwords to be stupid, But Harry is very different than I was at his age. Who knows what he finds amusing?

He pulled his attention back to the reason they were standing there in the first place and sent an admonishing frown towards Harry. “Come now, Potter.”

“Yes, sir.”

As he followed the boy up the stair Severus made certain that his Occlumency shields were in place. He had a feeling that he would need them if he was going to get through the next hour with his sanity intact.

The End.
End Notes:
Omgods, dancingkatz, you're my guardian angel~
This chapter went for being a piece of trash to something readable~! :)
Thanks, C~~
~~Emily~~
Chapter 11 -- Harry by Delphin

Harry took a shaky breath and nervously brushed imaginary lint off his robes in a futile attempt to compose himself as Snape raised his hand to knock on the Headmaster’s door. His nervous giggling down at the gargoyle had earned him a slight reprimand, and he had only just been able to stave off hysterical laughter by biting his palm. The whole situation was like a dream—a bad one; time had seemed to slow down the instant that Snape had announced they were going to see the Headmaster—every hallway had seemed longer, and it had become harder and harder to keep his breathing steady as his emotions rollercoaster-ed. As they’d gotten closer to the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster’s office, he grew more certain that he was going to get expelled; it was like one of his nightmares—he couldn’t even remember what he had done wrong that was an expellable offense… or any wrong at all that the Headmaster and Teachers had known about. He’d hurried to follow the Potion Master’s long strides, attempting to hide his dread at the idea of being thrown back to his relatives’ not-so-tender mercies.

He raised his hand to his mouth once more, as hysteria threatened and bit into his palm again. He settled a bit at the answering pain. The pain was uncomfortable but at least it was one thing he was in control of. His breathing evened out and his rapid heartbeat slowed a bit and he was able to enter the office with a semblance of calm when the headmaster called for them to come in.

Alright, this is it. I wonder if they’ll kick me out tonight or let me stay over till morning. The train won’t be leaving till 11 o’clock..

Harry slid his hand into his pocket and grasped his wand as he glanced at the elderly wizard who sat behind the ornate desk, seeking a clue as to why he was here instead of down in the dungeons scrubbing cauldrons or dissecting some slimy and disgusting potions ingredients. The man didn’t look angry in the least.

“I assume that Professor Snape hasn’t told you why you are here, has he, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry kept his mouth shut and shook his head, reluctant to speak aloud.

There’s no way I’m going to say anything until I know what’s going on.

“And I am correct in assuming that you have managed to convince yourself you are going to get expelled, right, my boy?”

Harry nodded again but kept silent. He cast a glance towards his teacher but the man’s stance and expression told him nothing.

Dumbledore smiled widely, his blue eyes twinkling and gestured at the two chairs placed in front of his desk indicating that Harry and Snape were to sit down. Once they were settled he continued. “I can assure you, my dear boy, that is not at all the reason. Lemon drop?”

Harry blinked, his eyes suddenly as wide as an owl’s, and found himself overwhelmed by relief. He wasn’t going to get expelled!

Thank, Merlin! I won’t have to worry about the Dursleys until the end of the year..

He sighed with relief and took the offered lemon drop.

“Then why, Headmaster?” Harry asked, remembering at the last second to add the honorific, knowing he’d receive get that look he hated from Snape if he called Dumbledore by anything but his title. He’d always hated that scathing look Snape gave him; it hurt for some reason.

Dumbledore met Harry’s confused eyes and his expression grew serious.

“You are here to be re-Sorted.”

WHAT!?No! There’s no friggin’ way!

His utter shock must have obvious but Dumbledore Acio-ed the Sorting Hat from its shelf and went on with his explanation.

“It has come to my attention, Harry, that you no longer reside in the Gryffindor dormitories. Am I correct?”

Yes. Oh, no! What am I going to do?

“I also understand that you no longer feel at home there.”

Well, that’s true but I’m still a Gryffindor!

“If Gryffindor is where you really belong, you shall stay there, but if not… well that’s the whole point of a re-Sorting.” Dumbledore’s smile never left his face as he spoke His words were spoken softly, as if he were speaking to a frightened or injured child.

Why should I be surprised he’s acting like I’m going to bolt at any minute? It’s got to be obvious I’m about ready to bolt.

As Dumbledore placed the Sorting Hat on Harry’s head he spoke again. “If you stay in Gryffindor, McGonagall requires that you return to your proper dormitory and common room. If you are Sorted into any other House, it’s Head will decide whether you may stay in your keep or not.”

Harry nodded automatically, but to be honest, he was concentrating on what the Hat was muttering instead of the Headmaster or the Potions Master.

‘Mmm-hmm. Why hello again, Mr. Potter. I understand that things haven’t been going too well for you in the House of the Lion, How unfortunate, how sad indeed, that the House you chose for yourself didn’t work out.’ The Hat’s tone seemed extremely mocking to Harry and he fought the inclination to pull it off his head and trample it underfoot. ‘I assure you I will do my job correctly and promise that you will be put where you truly belong. I’m certain that you will be welcomed by your House-mates, no worries about that since you are not making the decision this time!’

The Hat mumbled to itself periodically as it Sorted through Harry’s mind, taking its time. While Harry was consumed with worry about what the Hat would announce, Snape remained seated next to him, his blank expression belying his tension and concern. Dumbledore stood still in front of the seated boy, his hand extended as if to snatch the Hat from Harry’s head, unable to hide his own worry about the re-Sorting’s outcome. Though distracted, Harry could see the Headmaster and wondered at the man’s expression

‘Well of course he is worried, Mr. Potter. He wants you back in the Lion’s Den, where he is able to keep an eye on your every move.’

Harry blinked in surprise as the Hat returned to its musing. Was that why Dumbledore always seems to know what I’m doing?

The Hat chuckled cynically ‘Yes. The Head of the Lions allowed him to set his own special wards around the House. I believe she’s the only Head that let him do so...”

Harry caught himself as he began to twist his face into a scowl that looked remarkably like Professor Snape’s. His first reaction was anger; he hated being spied upon! It was immediately followed by a sick horror. That meant that Dumbledore knew everything--every one of Harry’s escapades, every “adventure”, and every time he snuck from the common room to get away from the other Lions.

That’s… that’s… despicable.

‘He has a tendency to meddle, but he really did do it for the safety of his old House, not just to keep an eye on you. Slytherins tend to wander, too, and if one of them met up with a Gryffindor and there were no teachers around to mitigate things, one of them might not make back to their dormitory.’

Doesn’t Snape keep them from wandering?

‘Yes, he generally does, Mr. Potter.. But he also understands the need to wander at night.”

Really?

‘Yes.’ Suddenly, the Hat’s mental voice took on a tone that made Harry think it must be smiling and opened the crease that formed its mouth.

“Why, I believe the young Lion has turned into a Snake. So Slytherin it is, Headmaster!”

Dumbledore sighed and lifted it from Harry’s head. Harry couldn’t help but meet his eyes, to discover that they had lost their twinkle. The Headmaster looked sad and resigned as he turn to look at the Head of Slytherin House.

“Very well. Severus, I suppose you ought to take Harry to gather his things since he’s one of your Snakes now.” Dumbledore’s smile was feeble and even to Harry seemed fake and forced.

“Of course, Headmaster.” Snape stood, his expression unchanged and looked and turning to Harry, gestured towards the door. “Come, Mr. Potter, I believe you still have some things to gather from your old House?”

Harry gulped, the last thing he wanted to do was go there now.

Oh, Merlin. They’re all going to kill me!

The End.
End Notes:
Thanks once again to dancingkatz!
Chapter 12-- Severus by Delphin

“McGonagall,” Severus said shortly, nodding at her in appreciation as she handed a fidgeting Harry the last of his belongings. “I’m sure Mr. Potter is very appreciative.”

“Oh, um-er. Yes, thank-you, Professor.” The boy stammered, his nervous silence breaking at the reminder. The Transfigurations mistress gave Severus a questioning look that was tinged with worry, but brushed off Harry’s thanks with a wave of her hand.

“No need for that, Mr. Potter. I do not want to be the one responsible for one of my-” She cut herself off and settled for giving the boy an awkward and sad smile as her colleague turned towards the office door. “Well…Have a good evening then, Mr. Potter. And you as well, Severus.”

Opening the door, he granted her another nod before ushering his newest Snake out into the corridor and closing behind them. “Mr. Potter, there are things we must discuss. Take your things to wherever you’ve managed to hole yourself up these past weeks and report to my office at half-past-nine. I’m certain you know where it is located?”

The still stunned boy looked up at him with a blank expression, but nodded before starting off down the corridor away from what Severus privately called Lion territory.

You hide so much beneath that blank face, my son. I wish to know you, wish to correct my wrongs. Will you let me? Severus shook himself and checked the Muggle watch he had managed to smuggle past the castles anti-Muggle wards. It was so much more useful than the overly complicated and illogically designed wizard timepieces. He’d given the boy nearly an hour; hopefully, the time taken to put his things away would allow the change in his situation to sink in. That was really the only reason he’d sent the boy off. He himself had no particular task requiring the delay. Musing he located a vial of calming draught in one of his robe’s many hidden pockets, and spent a few moments examining the liquid in the flickering torchlight. Both he and Harry would likely need a dose before the night was through. As much as he disliked the idea of opening himself up to the upcoming emotional ordeal, he knew that keeping his shields up would only be harmful. The draught would help keep things at a safe remove until both of them had time to deal with events. He tucked the vial away; perhaps he should get a second one from his stores, just in case the boy was more distraught than he thought.

Of course, the boy is distraught. No child wants to learn that his least favourite professor is, in fact, his father, a voice in the back of his mind sneered.

And how would you know? he snarled back at himself without thinking. He found himself waiting for a response but none came. Pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation—he wasn’t sure if it was towards himself, the boy, or just the situation in general—he closed his eyes and sighed before striding off in the direction of his office. It would not do for his son to arrive at his office to find him not there.


Carefully extinguishing the flame from under the small cauldron that sat on the workbench at one side of his office, Severus kept a wary eye on his son. Harry waited in the corner nearest the door as if torn between the need to protect his back and the desire to flee. His nervousness was obvious from the way his fingers plucked at the fraying hem of his jumper. Only minutes had passed since the child had arrived and it was clear that the boy was convinced that he was either going to be potions ingredients in a short time or Severus had some other dire fate in store for him. Though if the looks that he was giving the resting potion were anything to go by, it appeared that Harry seemed to have an idea of what it was.

“Harry,” the boy jumped in surprise at hearing his given name come from his Potions Professor’s lips and the green eyes darted a glance at Severus before returning his gaze to the cauldron, only to send it back to the man obviously wishing to ask what it was. “You may not want to believe that what you are about to learn is true.” He ladled out a portion of the cauldron’s contents into a dosing cup, the colour shifting, just as it ought when it touched the glass. Hell, I’m not even sure if what I suspect is true. I don’t really want to be doing this but— he forcibly stopped this train of thought and turned his attention back towards his son, whose gaze had once more settled on the potion and gestured for the boy to come forward from the corner where he lurked.

“Can you tell me what this potion is?” he snapped out, his nerves getting the better of his intention to make this as easy as possible.

Hands now stuffed into his pockets, and green eyes locked on the vial in Severus’ hand, Harry frowned as he hesitantly approached the workbench. Severus waited patiently as the boy examined the vial’s contents.

“It’s the Paternitas potion, isn’t it? Sort of like a Muggle paternity test, only it’s never incorrect.” The boy seemed even more wary now, chewing his lower lip for a few moments before adding, “It also tells the names of the parents to the child being tested.”

“Correct.” Severus attempted to hide his grimace and his surprise that Harry had correctly identified the rarely made potion. Why had he ever thought the boy was a dunce in his class? It was all his fault after all, no child did well under constant scrutiny. “However, at present the potion is inactive. I assume that since you correctly identified it, that you know what the activation catalyst is?” You are aware of the last ingredient then?”

Harry didn’t speak but held out his left hand palm up and fingers extended in answer. Either the boy was ready to accept what the potion would divulge, or the calming draught Severus had given him the moment he’d arrived in the office had finally taken hold.

Picking up the slender silver knife that sat on a piece of green silk to the side of the cauldron, Severus guided the boy’s finger tips over the mouth of the waiting vial. It was only a moment’s work to prick the boy’s forefinger and guide the resulting drop of blood into the thickening, grey potion. The potion immediately changed to a deep rich red, the single carmine drop staining the liquid in seconds. He held his breath as a silvery haze rose from the surface of the potion and wafted towards Harry. Wrought with both fear and some dread , he held his breath as the haze wreathed the boy’s head and the potion whispered Harry’s true parentage into his ears in the otherwise silent room.

The End.
End Notes:
Ohmygosh, I'm so sorry this took so long!
So is my editor but she's moving so SHE has a valid excuse I don't.... unless by some miracle the internet can forgive me for forgetting me and dancingkats converse by two different e-mails at times. /faceplam
Well, I'll try to find this stories muse and get back to work....
Soooorrrrrryyyy~
With lovies,
Emily/Delphin
Chapter 13-- Harry by Delphin

Harry gasped as his parents’ names unfurled themselves in his mind, and the dosing cup fell from his fingers. He didn’t hear it hit the floor, his entire world having been reduced to the two identities that had taken over his brain and the man who stood before him. Sick with shock, he couldn’t help locking his anxious gaze on his Potions Professor, visibly trembling as he tried to shape words—hell, even one single word would do!—but…

…what was he supposed to say? What could he say? Everything he was certain about had been upended with those two names that still reverberated through his head.

“W-w-why?” The single-syllable finally escaped his throat, just as he felt that he had been rendered mute. “Why!” It was all he could manage to say, a distillation of all the questions that he suddenly needed to be answered.

Overwhelmed—later he would wonder if this was the way Adam and Eve might have felt after eating the Apple; had their world shifted on its axis as alarmingly as his just did—he couldn’t help but collapse; shivering, the word falling repeatedly from his mouth as he rocked, hyperventilating, his eyes now squeezed shut and his fingers tightly gripping his hair, trying to stop his world from shattering.

Why? Why? Why!? WHY?!!!!!

He vaguely noticed something… someone… a presence standing over him; heard what might have been a voice uttering soothing words… urging him to calm down… to take a deep breath for Merlin’s sake! He couldn’t comprehend the words and so ignored them, continuing to hysterically choke out his question. He wanted to scream it but the attempt proved fruitless. Gasping, the whywhywhywhywhywhywhy kept pouring from him as a dark fog began to smother his mind. Unaware of anything else, not even the tears that poured from his eyes to soak his face, he gladly took refuge in it. He no longer felt the presence of anyone or anything else, there was only the darkness, a nice safe darkness, a refuge where he didn’t have to listen to himself sob and scream at the man that had shared the room with him—.

His father.


“..you knew!?”

He could recognize that the voice he heard was angry but not what it was saying. He wasn’t quite ready to step out of his mental refuge just yet, so the ability to distinguish meaning wasn’t quite available yet, the words not yet fully registering.

“I knew… She told me… —rus! She… —rusted m—!” He was vaguely pleased that he knew the second voice was female and somehow comfortingly familiar but he wasn’t capable of attaching an identity to it, that part of his mind still reluctant to give up its comfortable warm blanket of not-knowing.

“Why… not tell me!?” The first voice crescendo-ed, ringing through what seemed to be a large space. His curiosity lifted its head wanting to know—where was he?

“She.. me with her secret, Severus! I couldn’t betray her!” The second voice was insistent but remained soft. He was able to put a name to it this time. Ah, Madame Pomfrey… Poppy... always a voice of reason. Now that he’d identified her, he could smell the sharp, yet oddly comforting, disinfectant odor of the Infirmary… a scent that was remarkably similar to its mistress’ personality.

“Why not tell my boy, then? He had a right to know, and you kept it from him!” Harry winced at the angry tone, recognizing the speaker at last. Five words repeated themselves in his mind as the Infirmary fell silent. …my boy… right to know…?

His mind clearing with each passing moment, yet unwilling to open his eyes and make everything real, Harry couldn’t help silently asking: What about you, Snape? I’m your son; shouldn’t you have known all along? The silence deepened, growing more uncomfortable with each passing second. Finally he heard the sound of rustling robes followed by the creaking of a chair.

“Check to see if he’s all right.” Snape’s tone sounded… defeated?

Madame Pomfrey complied, putting her gentle palm against Harry’s forehead. He relaxed as he smelt her signature scent. She never wore perfume—he’d asked her once, during one of their meetings—but she always managed to smell like lavender and mint. He thought it an odd combination, but on her it seemed right. He inhaled deeply, letting the cool scents wrap themselves soothingly around his psyche.

“You smell nice.” Harry’s throat was dry but it didn’t prevent him from whispering the words as he finally pried his eyes open. Squinting in the light of the lamp over his bed, he had never been happier to see the Medi-Witch—not after the fight with Ron, not after each and every incident of self-harm, not even after each of his confrontations with the Dark Lord’s visions and other attacks. He had never thought that he should be this happy to see the Medi-Witch but he was and as he glanced over at his Potions Professor—his Father—he knew why.

He wanted her advice, but he didn’t need it.

He wanted her to talk to, but she wasn’t the only adult available to listen.

He wanted her shoulder to cry on, her office to sit in, her voice to listen to, but he didn’t need them now. He only wanted them.

The End.
End Notes:
Sorry that this has taken so long, and that this may in fact be the last of the series.
Thank you to all that held on through-out the up and downs of this being deleted and than making a come-back thanks to my amazing friend and editor DancingKats.
Now I'll cut it short here with one last thank-you! I appreciate all the support and love this story has gotten.
Love,
Emily
GREAT news for everyone who wanted to continue reading this story!! I've taken my editors advice and written a EPILOUGE! To ya know wrap up things with Draco and such. ;)
That is all. :)
Epilogue by Delphin
Author's Notes:
So it's not over?
No it isn't. :D
*un-betaed*
The sun was heavy for the winter day, Harry trudged heavily along the edge of the forbidden forest his eyes scanning the ground for any trace of the plant the shivered in the wizard photograph held tightly in the hand that clung the green scarf tight around his neck. The only noise that broke the air was his own panted breath and the occasional cheap of a bird (or some other animal) deep in the woods.
“Why did I agree to this?” He snapped to himself shuffling impatiently as he looked at the photo in his hand then down at a plant he had just spotted shivering off the snow that had gathered on it minuscule leaves.
“Ya know, legend says they move like that because the souls of banished fae are trapped in them.” Harry yelped and nearly trampled the tiny plant as he spun around to face a pink cheeked Draco. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, I... didn’t hear you coming.” Harry blushed and moved his hands down from their defensive position in front of his chest, shoving them deep into the pockets of his fathers old traveling cloak he had insisted on Harry borrowing.
“Flew.” Draco murmured shortly, blushing too. Every time they were together they were expected to be talking to other and had hardly gotten a second alone since then, the sudden silence of being together on a cold winters day was startling. “So... you think I’m fit?” Draco grinned a grin that made Harry’s heart tense that un-tense into a fluttering mess inside his chest.
“Extremely, you’ve grown a couple inches too.” Draco moved closer to Harry touching his cheek gently.
“As have you.”
“For that you can thank my father.” Draco’s eye knit down together and his head tilted, giving him the look of a confused animal. “You look adorable when you do that.” The air in front of Harry’s face fogged up and he realized his scarf had fallen from his mouth when Draco smoothed a hand across his cheek and leaned in.
“You have an amazing talent for letting secrets slip, Harry.”  Draco and Harry jumped three feet back from each other when they heard Severus’s voice behind them. “Now if you’d do the poor plant the favor of getting off it, son."
Draco looked closely at Harry as he came to stand beside him his father kneelled in front of the small plant; "I always knew there was a reason you were so stubborn, genetics."
"I can hear you Mr. Malfoy." Severus chuckled as he pulled a jar from inside his coat. "Also,l please refrain from grabbing my son's arse behind me." The two boys yelped and jumped apart from each other once again, but passed a look to one another. There'd be a time when the Professor wasn't around...
The End.
End Notes:
Does anyone know if something has happened to Dancingkatz? I can't get a hold of her and I'm worried. ;.;
Anyways... here it is... the Epilogue I wasn't supposed to write. Eheh... Hope you like it. .///.
Love you and thanks for sticking with me,
Emily/Delphin


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