Electric Avenue by DesertPlanet
Summary: Following the disasterous Third Task, Harry begins to notice two things about himself. First: his appearence has begun to change. Second: something is very very wrong. The Cruciatus shouldn't continue to be causing him pain this far out from having received it, should it?
Categories: Parental Snape > Biological Father Snape > Severitus Challenge Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Draco, Remus
Snape Flavour: Snape is Kind
Genres: Angst, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery
Media Type: None
Tags: Disguised!Harry, Injured!Harry, New Identity!Harry, Physical Impairment
Takes Place: 5th summer, 5th Year
Warnings: Neglect, Out of Character
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 47 Completed: No Word count: 206126 Read: 296922 Published: 08 Jan 2021 Updated: 13 Jan 2023
Story Notes:
This entire story was spawned from one single mental image of a disguised Harry laying on a couch in Snape's house with Draco trying to figure out how to deal with this random teen he's never met. I do hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I have writing it.
Chapter 1 by DesertPlanet
Two letters, both alike in size and shape and signed with a flourish of green ink were shakily placed into the ‘Delayed Deliveries’ box of the local Owl Post Office. The instructions printed on the envelopes were that they were to be sent fifteen years from July 20th, 1980. With any luck, the recipients would be more understanding by that time and this horrible war would be over. Maybe she would be alive to tell them both and cancel the letter. Maybe the war would be over next week. Maybe she was wrong in her calculations.

Maybe. Just maybe.

The young woman who placed them there shakily wiped her eyes and sniffled before turning and walking calmly and resolutely towards the door. Soon enough, she would no longer be able to walk easily; her center of gravity having changed and hips having widened to accommodate the growing child within her. Her robes were already beginning to require more frequent resizing in order to continue to feel comfortable, but soon she would have to break down and purchase new ones. Soon her feet would begin to swell and her back begin to ache with the burden placed upon it. Soon she would be a mother to one of the ‘most light’ children in Magical Britain.

Or so everyone would be made to think.

They had to think so, for the baby’s sake. They had to believe that Lily and James were expecting and that the baby was theirs. No one could know the truth about who the baby belonged to. At least not until this terrible war was over, and even then it would be debatable if the baby would want to know who the father was or if it’s father would be able to have contact with the child.

He was a Death Eater after all.

Striding back towards her house, she sent a silent prayer out that she would be able to go back to the post office in a few months and pick up the letters, destroy them, and move on with her life. Only six more months to go until she could know for certain who the father was. Six long months of waiting and fighting. Soon enough, she would no longer be able to take part in the battles themselves and the truly terrifying part of her pregnancy would begin: going into hiding.

A battlefield was no place for a pregnant woman after all.

It had been a mistake. The entire thing was a mistake, but she couldn’t bear the idea of aborting this baby. It was conceived out of love, after all. Love long lost and unrequited, but love none the less. However, it was extremely unexpected. A few too many drinks with some old friends from her childhood, friends she had grown apart from when she went to Hogwarts, but who were her connection to a more simple time. A time before dark wizards, unforgivable curses, and magically induced war wounds.

And in the corner, far from the crowds in the pub yet equally drunk, was her oldest and dearest magical friend. Or former friend.

At her muggle friends’ urging, she went and sat next to him and listened as he drunkenly poured his heart out to her. She listened as he told her of how frightened he was, how he wasn’t sure he was on the right side, how he did not want to partake in the raids or torture anymore. How he missed her and wished they could be together.

For hours they spoke and drank, then flirted as though nothing had happened, then…

She didn’t really remember what happened next, only that she woke up in his bed with him still very much unconscious next to her and the stench of alcohol permeating the room. She quickly snuck out and made her way back to her parent’s house for a shower. As quickly as she could, she fled back to her husband with the hope that nothing would come of this.

A little over a month later and feeling sick as a dog, she realized her hope was for naught. But there was still a chance that the baby she carried was her husband’s. Maybe she and her friend hadn’t actually done anything that night? It wouldn’t have been the first time they had slept innocently in the same bed, though admittedly the last time they had done that they had both been nine years old. There was still a chance the baby was her husband’s. A small chance, but a chance.

Hormones led her to write the letters. Anxiety led her to send them. Yet there were still months left to go before the paternity test could be performed and she would know once and for all. Her husband was as supportive as he could be, already loving on the unborn child and excited for it’s arrival. She could only hope this excitement would continue on once the baby arrived and brought with it many sleepless nights. And she hoped he would accept the child no matter if he were the father or not, though she would understand if he were angry should the baby turn out to not be his. As sad as she would be at his anger, she would understand if he chose to leave. This was her cross; her burden to bear.

Only time would tell what would become of it.
To be continued...


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