For Valour by Whitetail
Summary: Being an ex-spy makes fatherhood difficult for Severus, and his son Harry knows this. Therefore, Harry has never been surprised that his father has talked so little of what happened during the first Wizarding War, a time when the Ministry of Magic still refused to believe he was acting on Dumbledore’s orders. It is a silence Severus has been able to keep without question, but when Harry discovers an old trunk of his father’s, he finds in it something Severus had never intended to see the light of day - a muggle war medal. No longer can Severus keep his past hidden, and no longer can he shelter his son from the reality of what happens when one war bleeds into another … the truth of where traitors go when Azkaban is full.
Categories: Parental Snape > Biological Father Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Eileen Prince, Lily, Original Character, Tobias Snape
Snape Flavour: Snape is Loving
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst
Media Type: None
Tags: None
Takes Place: 1st Year
Warnings: Suicide Themes, Violence
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 12 Completed: Yes Word count: 54131 Read: 40726 Published: 13 Aug 2013 Updated: 04 Nov 2013
Her Eyes by Whitetail

That night I cannot sleep, and I sit by the box that holds so many memories. So much pain. I hold up the trousers to my army uniform. I finger the frayed material and the hole where the bullet went though. I can find where it entered, and where it left. Just thinking about this makes my knee hurt. There is a dark stain where the blood soaked my trousers, along the left leg. No amount of washing would get it out, but I did not care. I doubted I would finish my service in the army because of my injury, which they had forecasted would take quite a long time to properly heal, and longer still for me to return to the physical condition I was in, if ever. I was just glad that the Ministry found my service sufficient, especially considering that I had to fight in a war.

I reach down to pull out the shirt, and as I shift it I feel something slippery in my fingers. I let go with surprise, for it had felt nothing like my army uniform. I grab the uniform again, and I put it aside. Then, I grope around at the bottom of the box. I feel that sliding feeling between my fingertips again, and to my utter amazement, my hand comes up with an invisibility cloak, dust drifting down from it. I had not put that there. There is a clunk and something falls from it, but for a moment I stare at the invisibility cloak in my fingers, frowning.

Has this always been in here? I know all too well this box has not been opened since the day I dropped my army things into it, shoving it far into the reaches of the attic at Spinner's end. Dumbledore had salvaged only two pieces of furniture that Lily had brought over to James Potter's home in Godric's Hollow, where they hid from the Dark Lord. One was a rocking chair I painstakingly built for her with my father when I first found out she was pregnant. The second thing was this box, which had been Lily's. She used to keep it under her bed at Hogwarts, and she had kept it to throw various things in over the years. I remember filling it with dishes before carting it to our little flat in London. I wondered why Dumbledore bothered to save it. He said it was one of few pieces of furniture Lily had taken to Potter's. I doubted he looked inside it, and I recall opening it and feeling so let down that there was nothing of Lily's inside it, because the box never meant that much to her, and did not remind me of her all that much. Almost everything had been destroyed in the cottage, and I was aching for something of hers, anything. But there was nothing, and I even remember crying a little as I threw my army things in it and shut it for good.

Now, with the cloak no longer concealing it, I see the leather bound book lying on the floor, the source of the clunking. I see the yellowed pages along the sides. My breath catches in my throat as I feel it gently with my fingers. It's a photo album, and I can barely see through the tears as I flip it open to the first page, the invisibility cloak of no concern to me.

There we are, Lily and I. The magical photograph is of our wedding, cradled in the yellow pages that Lily must have concealed with the aid of Potter's cloak. I feel my chest starting to hurt when I realize she must have done this to protect me in case they were discovered. I wipe my eyes and stare down at the pictures of our wedding once more. It was not extravagant in the least, the ceremony. My father had a friend who was able to marry us quietly, with just my parents there. Lily's parents had been dead for some time at that point, after a nasty car crash in her sixth year. But she is happy in this picture. Radiant, in fact, and the photo was snapped exactly at the moment when we kissed. I touch the photograph's edges, careful not to get my fingerprints on it. I wish I could fall through it, and as I close my eyes I can remember the way her lips felt on mine.

I flip to the next page, and then I see a picture of myself, asleep on the sofa and drooling, wearing my Electric Light Orchestra t-shirt as I always did in those days because Lily liked it on me. Lily had snapped a picture of me asleep, thinking it was funny. That had been the day after my first session of training with the military. I was utterly exhausted when I came home.

The next picture is of us sitting in front of the fire at my parents' house on Christmas Eve. You can see the stockings hanging from the mantelpiece, and we are leaning against each other. The shot is taken from the back, and my arm is around Lily. I think it was my father that took the picture on the sly. I flip the page.

I catch myself laughing when I see the photo Lily snapped of me when she told me she was pregnant. I had just gotten home for the day and she told me to come into the kitchen and sit down at the table. She started rambling about the camera, saying she was having trouble with it so I didn't suspect anything, and then she casually slipped in the line about her being pregnant. The magical, moving picture shows that my eyebrows are as high as they can go, and I have a rather bewildered, but delighted look on my face. My mouth is hanging open, utterly shocked, and then I start to grin. Smiling at the memory, I look to the next page and see the picture of Lily with her belly just barely protruding, her short t-shirt lifting slightly to show a small patch of her pale pink skin. She's looking out the window serenely and she's stirring a pot of soup on the stove. Her hair is in a long braid, the way I liked it best.

"Oh Merlin," I say to myself, half in embarrassment, for I had forgotten the existence of this picture as I see the magical photo of both of us singing and dancing by the record player, bursting out into laughter occasionally at our equally bad renditions of our favourite song. I recall Lily putting the camera on the mantle, and charming it to take a picture, so we were both in it. There is one of us slow dancing in the living room too. Lily is quite pregnant in these pictures, as they were taken shortly before I got the news that I would have to go overseas.

I flip through a few more pages of just Lily and I, her getting more pregnant with every shot. I laugh when I see the picture from when I ambushed her with the camera while she was taking a bubble bath, relaxing under fluffy mountains of foam. The picture has captured her mid laugh as she flicks bubbles at the lens, and you can see her lips forming a long "Severus!", as she always did when I acted silly.

When I flip to the next page my laughter fades away, and instead my breath catches in my throat, because I've never seen these pictures. I stare at the page, down at the two people I love the most, watching as their matching green eyes meet for the first time.

 

***

 

The school day has ended at last, and Harry stands quietly outside in the courtyard, Herbology having finished up moments ago. Nobody notices the thoughtful expression on his face, something he is glad for. All of the things that his father has told him are swirling in his head again, and as he and his friends mill about in the nice fall air he is not forced into conversation, for Hermione and Ron are busy arguing over some silly thing. He goes on thinking interrupted, taking in deep breaths of the crisp fall air.

Harry shakes his head slightly, trying to imagine what it must have been like for his father, going through all that. It makes his eyes sting to think of surviving only to find out the love of your life was dead, knowing you weren't there to tell her you loved her one last time. Harry felt strange to think that he had been there when his father hadn't. He'd been with his mum and he'd probably hugged her one last time - or as well as a baby could hug. Yet, somehow, he felt just as distant as his dad had been. Harry did not remember her, at least not truly, for what he did recall were only the fragments of a half-remembered moment that replayed over and over in his nightmares when he was worried and stressed.

Yet, his father spoke with almost as much dread of getting that medal, of earning that Victoria Cross. What could possibly be so bad about being given a hero's medal? His father has always been perfectly happy to have people look up to him, and Harry has known him to gripe from time to time about how the Wizarding World is too stuck up to see past their prejudice and realize that as a spy he brought in information that saved countless lives. It seems to annoy him quite a bit, and yet why on earth would he speak so bitterly of this, a war medal that is given only to the exceptional?

"Hey, Snape!" spits an all too familiar voice, dragging Harry out of his thoughts and causing heads to turn.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry says with a scowl as pronounced as Malfoy's smirk.

"What's with Professor Spook today, huh?" taunts Malfoy. Harry glares at him, knowing exactly what Malfoy is referring to.

Somebody had dropped a textbook in class this morning, while his father was underlining a few things on the chalkboard. He had jumped rather suddenly, and the chalk fell on the floor and broke. Harry had watched closely, worried as his father turned back around to pick up the pieces, waving his wand to fix the chalk, it being the last piece. His hand had been shaking very slightly, and Harry was scared that telling the story last night had gotten to him. He had wanted to stop to ask if his dad was doing alright, but Malfoy and his crowd had been hanging around, and his dad was busy sorting through the ingredient cupboard.

"Nothing, Malfoy," Harry says coolly, rolling his eyes, forcing himself to stay calm.

"He seemed pretty ... jumpy," Malfoy takes a step forward quite suddenly, but Harry doesn't flinch. The other students in the courtyard watch intently, mostly just first years that have come out to enjoy the particularly fine day before going to put their books away. A gaggle of Hufflepuffs ogle.

"You look pretty jumpy yourself, Malfoy," Harry retorts.

"I stand by what I said before," is the cool reply. "He's gone mad. Something's wrong with him."

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy," Ron says suddenly, he and Hermione having noticed what is going on when everyone falls silent at Malfoy's accusation.

"Why bother defending him, Weasel? You know just as well as I that Professor Spook is a basket case." A few people nod in agreement with Malfoy's statement, and a handful of laughs rise in the wintry air.

"You're the crazy one, Malfoy," Ron says to Harry's relief, cracking his knuckles.

"Crazy? I'll wait to get my opinion from Snape," Malfoy says nodding his head towards Harry. "He would know."

"What, and your father is so much better, is he?" Harry bites back, his nerves fraying. "Buying all his friends?"

Malfoy flushes slightly. "Don't you dare say that about my father."

"Then don't insult mine!" Harry replies.

Malfoy scoffs, then, seeing that his friends are watching with grins on their faces, continues.

"Come on, everyone is thinking it," he adds. "Besides, he's a terrible professor and a total nut-case. I mean, come on, nobody actually likes Professor Snape." He waits a moment for it to sink in, then, with relish, he says, "If he wasn't such a coward, I'd say old Spook should just off himself and be done with it."

Harry lunges forward to hit Malfoy, but to his amazement someone beats him to it. It is one of the Hufflepuff first years, and upon Malfoy's last statement she lets out a wild scream and launches herself on him, punching every inch she can reach, her blonde braids flying.

"YOU STUPID, IGNORANT -" she is bellowing, but Crabbe is dragging her off Malfoy as Harry leaps on top of him, fury in his blood as he thinks of all the things Malfoy knows nothing of.

The girl is still shouting with all her might, and struggling, but overtop her cries Harry hears another voice.

"STOP THIS INSTANT!" bellows Professor McGonagall, and as Ron drags him back by the collar Harry feels his stomach drop to his toes.

He clutches his bleeding nose, and Malfoy gets to his feet after a moment, seeming a little stunned. The girl falls silent, the fury still written on her face. Crabbe releases her hastily and she stomps on his foot before walking away and standing with her arms crossed and her face mutinous.

"What in heaven's name is going on here?" Professor McGonagall cries in exasperation.

"Malfoy started it!" Ron says.

"I do not care who started it, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall says stiffly, "but I am ending it!"

Just then, Percy Weasley comes rushing into the courtyard.

"What is going on?" he cries indignantly. "Ah, Professor! Has Ron gotten himself in trouble?"

A few people snicker, and Ron tells Percy to do something highly impolite.

"No, but that mouth just lost you ten points, Mr. Weasley," she says to Ron. Ron grumbles, but remains silent. "Percy, please escort Mr. Malfoy to the hospital wing so that he may have his injuries healed before the matter is discussed. He is to wait for me there so that I may hear his side of the story."

Percy does as he is told and helps a limping and bleeding Malfoy (whose injuries are much worse than his or the Hufflepuff girl's, much to Harry's satisfaction) away from the scene.

"Miss Crandall, Mr. Snape, are you alright? Can you manage for a few minutes?"

Both nodded that their injuries are minor, although Harry's nose is bleeding just a little. It is not crooked, however, and does not seem to be broken. It is throbbing a little, but Harry is too angry to care.

"Good. You two come with me. I want an explanation."

Miserable, the two follow her, a few steps behind and heads bowed.

"Here," whispers the girl, who is pale, but mainly unhurt. Her knuckles are bleeding on one hand, but she hands Harry a lacy handkerchief, which he takes gratefully. Her accent is strange to him. Harry remembers his classmates saying that she just moved here from Canada.

"Thanks," Harry mutters, taking it numbly and pressing it against his nose, feeling too ill at the turn of events to ask her why she got so mad at Malfoy too.

Professor McGonagall informs them quite curtly that their heads of house are responsible for dealing with fighting. Harry tells her what Malfoy was doing, but she just says that even though the words were horrible, they should have come to her before resorting to fists. She says no more of the matter.

He and the girl share a miserable glance before Professor McGonagall knocks on Professor Sprout's office door. Apparently fighting is an offence that earns you a trip to your head of house. Miss Crandall looks ready to cry as Professor Sprout shakes her head and takes her inside. The door shuts, and right now, Harry's extraordinarily grateful that he's not in Slytherin.

"I wouldn't look relieved just yet, Harry Severus Snape," snaps Professor McGonagall when she sees his expression. "I know just what I am doing with you!"

Harry swallows.

 

***

 

When the end of the day comes I am happier than I have been in a long time, and not long after I end up sitting in the staff room reading a book. The thunder of students walking through the halls to wherever they wish now that the day is done, and so I do not hear Minerva come in. After a moment I see her. I drop my book immediately when I realize that she's leading Harry in by his shoulder, looking murderous. His nose is bleeding very slightly, and he's holding a handkerchief up to it. He's got a black eye coming too now. I leap out of my chair and kneel down to him.

"Harry, what happened, are you alright?" I ask, panicked.

"'M okay," he says meekly through the blood. "'Snot broken. Just a cut."

"Harry got into a fight," Minerva says sternly, arms crossed in disappointment as I mop the blood off my son's face. The few staff in the room look concerned, as Harry is like family to most of them.

"What?" I ask, shocked and angry.

"Dad," he begins, but falters, his eyes brimming.

Minerva looks tired, and says, "I gave him a talking to on our way down here, but I thought you might want the final word."

"All the other kids' parents aren't told about this sort of stuff," Harry mutters, looking down ashamedly.

"Their parents do not live here," I say to Harry firmly. "You should have considered that before you got into a fight, young man. Now hold still, I am going to do a spell to heal the cut in your nose." I'm grateful Minerva left the healing spells to me - that is one area I can certainly beat her at.

Harry obeys me, and I wave my wand. The bloods stops, and I hand him a clean handkerchief with a bit of water on it to mop up the rest of the blood. Splotches of red can still be seen on the collar of his white school shirt, protruding from his robes. He'll need a salve for the bruise.

I thank Minerva, and for a moment when Harry is not looking we share a weary look.

"We shall go to my office," I say to him sternly after a moment, and I beckon him to my side. He plods along beside me in the corridor, and I can tell that he doesn't like the other kids staring. Some of the older ones look mouth ‘what happened?' to him, but he just shakes his head.

He seems to wilt under their gazes, because the older students mostly look at him like a little brother, on account of the fact that many have known him for years, when he was still young enough to hide his face in my cloak out of shyness as we walked through the corridors.

I am so disappointed in him. I hate to have to give him a talking to, but what on earth was he thinking? I have always made it perfectly clear that if he gets into trouble Minerva has the right to bring him down to see me. A lot of it she has planned to deal with, which we agreed some time ago, but we also agreed that something like brawling in the corridors is not something that I am to be left out of.

Harry hangs his head as I guide him into my office by his shoulder.

"Sit," I say sharply, pointing to the chair in front of my desk.

I remain standing, and I tower over him, arms crossed. I force myself to remain stern, even when he hangs his head and tears drip off his nose.

"Dad," he croaks, "I'm sorry! It's just ... Draco Malfoy ..."

"Is he in bad shape as well?" I ask sharply. "Who threw the first punch? Was it you?"

"Well this other girl sort of leaped on him too, and then I did, and I think he's gonna have a black eye," Harry mutters. "I know I shouldn't have done it."

"Then why did you?" I say in exasperation.

"He started making fun of you," Harry whispers, still not looking at me. "He kept saying bad stuff about you, and I didn't tell you but on the train he was saying the same things and what his father thought of you. It was awful."

"Really," I say, not surprised in the least. "Well, I am sure that whatever he had to say was not nice in the least, but no matter what anyone - not just Draco or Lucius - says about you or I, I forbid you to fight them, unless you are in physical danger and there is no other option. Is that clear?"

Harry nods. "But Dad, he said you were a c-coward!"

I uncross my arms, and I feel my heart sinking, because the way he's looking at me I can tell this is bothering him a great deal. I drag my desk chair around the side of the desk and place it in front of Harry, then sit down so I am facing him.

"And what about that statement bothered you so much?" I ask him quietly.

"Everything!" Harry says, his voice cracking a little bit. "Y-You're so brave. It was a total lie. You risked your life to spy for Dumbledore, and you went to war, a-and you have nightmares but you don't tell Grandma about them ‘cause they'll hurt her more ... you're the bravest person I know! And you won a medal for it, even. I wanted to tell Malfoy about your medal in front of everyone, b-but I knew I couldn't."

"So you hit him instead," I say, sighing. "I am flattered that you think I am brave, Harry, and very grateful you kept the medal a secret, but that still does not make what you did right."

"I know," he mutters to me. "I just wish he'd lay off you."

"Are you going to be alright?" I ask Harry. "It looks like you took a hit or two as well."

"I'll be okay," Harry says to me, meeting my eyes and forgetting to think before speaking as he adds the second part. "I've met girls that hit better than Malfoy."

"I am going to ignore that last comment," I say under my breath, and he blushes. "Now, of course, there's the matter of your punishment."

Harry frowns, but he does not argue.

"There are three things I want you to do," I say.

Harry looks worried, and I start to list them off.

"One," I begin, "you will apologize to Draco Malfoy for hitting him."

"But -"

"No complaints," I say. "The second thing is that you will apologize to Minerva for failing to show decorum, and thus casting Gryffindor House in a bad light. Lastly, you will ask her what she thinks is a fit punishment - most likely detention - and you will obey her wishes. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," mutters Harry.

"I'm sorry Mr. Malfoy upset you," I say to him quietly. "It is sometimes easier to hear yourself made fun of, rather than someone you care about, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

I get up, and so does Harry.

"I am glad you are alright," I say, giving him a hug, feeling my heart clench because I do not feel deserving of his insistence that I am brave. If he only knew. There are too many times that I have acted as a coward.

"Dad, are you going to tell me the rest of your story?" Harry asks, wrenching me out of my thoughts as he looks up at me.

"Tomorrow," I tell him.

He looks disappointed, but I think he will live.

"Now, run along," I say, "No doubt you have homework - ."

"Dad," Harry blurts out in exasperation immediately after he hears the word homework. "Do you ever think of anything besides homework?"

"Sometimes," I say with a smirk.

"Well, my classmates think you don't," Harry tells me matter-of-factly. "I think they're right."

"Do you?" I say with a chuckle.

"Yeah, you're way too uptight. Bye Dad."

He shuts the door to my office with a snap, and I shake my head slightly.

"That boy is so much like you it hurts," Salazar says, stating the obvious and rolling his eyes in his frame. "I recall a certain small Slytherin that also had very little filter between his brain and his mouth. Harry is a bit more ... Gryffindor-ish, but other than that, he's your carbon copy. ."

"Except for the eyes," I say under my breath.

"Except for the eyes," agrees Salazar.

The End.
End Notes:
A little break from the action of Severus' story. Hopefully it was still interesting despite that. I wanted to show a bit more of the father son dynamic, and toss in the photo album too!


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