“Hello, Harry.”
He nodded at her and sat quickly, not knowing what to say. She gestured to where, in all his previous dreams, the coffee table had been between the two sofas. In its place tonight was a shallow puddle, as if someone had spilled a glass of water on the stone floor.
“Are you ready to see?”
He hunched forward, hands braced on the sofa between his knees, and looked at the pool. The surface shimmered, and he saw the corridor outside the Room of Requirement. A pretty girl was leaning agaist the wall there – wait. He looked closer. It was his mother.
Lily.
He stared at her, trying to take in as many details as possible, burn her image into his memory. Her long red-blond hair, her green eyes, her petite figure. He watched her worry her bottom lip in nervousness and wondered what she was anxious about. Her expression turned to apprehension when James Potter arrived.
Messy black hair, Harry’s own facial features. He did look a lot like his foster father, he realised. James’ face mirrored the concern Harry felt over Lily’s fretting.
“James, what will he say?” she whispered, clutching his arm.
“I guess we’ll find out,” he said simply, tapping her nose affectionately. He walked up and down the corridor three times and the door appeared. Just as they were about to enter, Severus Snape walked up to them cautiously.
“Potter,” he acknowledged tersely. “Lily,” he added a little quieter. James guestured for them all to go inside.
When the boys had settled into the sofas opposite each other and Lily was nervously pacing around near the fireplace, James took a breath.
“Snape,” he began, “I know we’ve never been friends, but-” the Slytherin snorted, but James ploughed on, “but Lily and I are best friends, and you two were going out. That connects us.”
Severus rolled his eyes. “Typical Gryffindor logic,” he muttered.
James ignored the comment. “She’s in trouble, and we need to talk to you.”
All the contempt left Snape’s face. “Lily? What’s wrong?” He was fighting not to go to her.
She turned to face him, placing her hands gently, reverently, on her stomach, and Severus understood. He closed his eyes. “Mine?” he whispered.
“Yes.” She had tears on her cheeks, but her radiant smile left no question about her feelings for the child and its father.
He didn’t fight the urge this time. He went to her, his arm around her and his cheek against hers. His hand touched her stomach with awe.
“When will it…?”
James answered softly, not wanting to be too harsh. “That’s what we wanted to talk to you about. Lily, come sit down.” He patted the chair next to him. She sat, but pulled Severus to sit next to her.
“We have thought of something we can do, but we didn’t want to make any decisions without you,” James said respectfully. “No-one else knows about this. The others know that you broke up, but not really why. Lily told me everything. We all know what’s going on outside the castle. We have be careful.”
He paused for Severus to answer. Severus clutched Lily’s hand. “Yes?” he asked, his voice catching. He cleared his throat. “What do you propose, Potter?” he said rather stiffly, though without the usual scorn when addressing his classmate.
“We think we should put the Stasis spell on the baby. Then if things go well in the next few years, you could marry and remove the spell.”
Severus knew how likely that would be. “And in the much more probable event that it doesn’t?”
“She can marry me and I will take care of them both. We’ll charm him to look like my son.”
Snape grit his teeth. The glass he was holding cracked under the pressure he was exerting over it. Lily jumped. He swore, dropping the pieces and extracting a sliver from his palm.
“Do you love her?” Snape asked James, point blank. Lily shook her head as if to say ‘of course not, silly’, but James looked down, caught.
“Yes,” he whispered. Then his head came up, and he said louder, “yes.”
Lily put a hand to her mouth. “James?” she asked incredulously, her other hand still holding Severus’. “You… but why didn’t you…”
“You were happy,” he said simply, gesturing to the two of them, “and it doesn’t change the fact that we’re best friends.”
Overcome, she closed her eyes. James and Severus stared at each other for almost a whole minute before they broke eye contact. After a moment, without looking up, Snape said, “All right.”
“Huh? You agree?” James was surprised, to say the least.
“Are you deaf?!” he cried. “I know as well as you it’s the best option, but I don’t have to like it.”
Potter nodded, serious again. He glanced back at Lily, who was sitting with quiet tears in her eyes, looking at Severus. James looked back again.
“I promise I’ll look after them. She’s my best friend.” He left the room, letting the two say their goodbyes. If Snape was going to escape Malfoy, he would have to leave Britain altogether.
The image rippled and then Harry could see the stone floor again. He sat back. His brain had not really managed to get past seeing his mother and fath– James again for the significance of the scene to register.
“So,” she began, “this is the turning point, the crucial moment. Because this never happened…” she trailed off. “Harry?”
He jerked his head back up. He had seen James’ fierce protection of his mother. He’d seen a smile on her face, however fleeting. And Snape hadn’t been so bad-looking, he realised with some surprise, although still rather tetchy.
But he hadn’t a clue what they’d said. “Er…”
“Do you want to watch it again?”
Sheepishly, he nodded. After the second viewing, he nodded his understanding. He looked at her, wondering what was next.
“So Snape leaves the country for safety. Then nothing else changes until the night the Potters were killed,” she said as the pool shimmered again.
Grey smoke choked the air, but failed to hide the Dark Mark, hovering like a sentinel over the remains of a house. It looked as if it could have been called cosy. A man dressed in black stumbled up the path unsteadily towards the destroyed cottage. “You promised!” he yelled, his voice raw with emotion. “You promised you’d look after them!” he screeched, falling to his knees in the debris, swollen eyes taking in the blackened remains of his Lily’s home. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he wrenched away, staggering up to his feet. He saw Black, tears falling freely down his face, a deadened look in his eyes. It was the first time he’d seen the mutt not bouncing off the bloody walls. “Snape. You should know,” he said, getting the words out one by one, concentrating on giving the message. “Harry survived.” “Harry?” Severus stepped closer. “Where is he? Where is he?!” “Dumbledore has him. Wait, Snape!” But Snape had Apparated away. Sirius Black was still looking at the house, distracted, when the Aurors Apparated in behind him.
Harry sat back on the sofa, scrubbing his eyes. It had been a very short scene, but it was hard to see even Snape with such powerful grief. Knowing the house was his parents’, and that Sirius would not be free for long hadn’t helped.
“What happened after that?” he asked quietly.
“He took you back to Prince Manor. A mediwizard’s charm and the Potters’ wills proved you to be his son and the papers were signed. After seeing Sirius at Godric’s Hollow that night, Severus believed he was innocent, and, with Remus Lupin, searched tirelessly for Pettigrew. For your sake he hunted the rat down and turned him over to the Aurors within a year. All charges against your godfather were dropped, so he and Remus returned to live close to you.
“Sirius’ cousin, Narcissa Malfoy, also had her life turned upside down by this event. Or perhaps, right-side-up. Pettigrew incriminated many Death Eaters, including Lucius, with solid proof, and Malfoy was sentenced to the Kiss. Narcissa was glad to be rid of him and his influence over their son.”
Draco.
“So do I meet Malfoy before Hogwarts?” he asked.
“You’re practically brothers.”
He screwed up his features in distaste. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
“I want to show you a few short episodes from your life that could have been, Harry. Tell me, what are the things you feel the most strongly about not having at the Dursleys’?”
He didn’t have to think hard. “Friends, family, birthdays and not knowing who I was.”
“Let’s look at these then,” she nodded, gesturing to the water.
A child’s bedroom at night, with the soft glow of a nightlight. A dark-haired figure was sitting upright next to a small lump in the covers, telling a story. Another person could just be seen, hovering in the hall.
“Once, there was a little boy. He was a very special boy, because he was like an angel. A very bad wizard came to the little boy’s house, because he didn’t like the little boy or his mummy and daddy. But the little boy made the bad man go away, so everyone called the little boy an Angel. The little boy grew up with his other Daddy and his friends. Then he started learning all sorts of things about magic ...”
“Like me, Daddy?”
“Yes, Harry, just like you. You see, everyone knew the bad man might come back one day, so everyone needed the Angel to protect them. So the Boy Angel learnt lots of things that would help him send the bad man away so he would never come back. One day, the boy went to school and made lots of new friends who were witches and wizards like him. Older witches and wizards taught him how to do many things, until he was better than anyone else. When the bad wizard came to the school, he didn’t expect that the Angel Boy would be very good at magic. The bad wizard tried to hurt the students but the Angel made him go away forever.”
“The Angel Boy made the bad wizard go away forever?” little Harry repeated, drowsy. He was almost alseep, so didn’t hear Severus say very quietly, “I hope so, Harry. I hope you can.”
Snape closed the door carefully after kissing the boy’s cheek. Sirius was waiting for him in the hallway. “Angel Boy?” he asked with a grin.
“He has to know, he’ll need to know. All the other children are being told nearly the same story. I’ll gradually tell him more details as he gets older.”
Sirius waved a hand to stop him. “I know why you’re doing it, but really – ‘Angel Boy’?”
Severus sneered. “I can hardly tell him it’s him, can I? He’s three – too young yet. I have to ease the idea into his mind slowly, have some sense. And I am not about to call him ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived’ like the rest of the world. How common.” He glared at the Animagus. Sirius didn’t back down. “All right,” he sighed. “It was Draco, the silly boy,” he complained with affection. “Narcissa got it into her head to make it a real fairytale. She called him an Angel once and Draco latched onto it immediately. He’s always asking her to tell him the ‘Angel Boy’ story.”
Sirius just chuckled. “Angel Boy,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he walked away.
The puddle rippled, but stilled again almost straight away. It showed a series of images from what was obviously a child’s birthday party. Harry saw himself, happily blowing out four candles; a blonde boy trying to sneak a bit of icing before he was given his piece of cake; a magical game he could not identify involving colourful bubbles that the children were chasing; himself unwrapping presents with unequaled joy; Padfoot tearing around in the wrapping paper with various children on his back; finally himself sitting in a corner with a toy, but it wasn’t working, or little Harry couldn’t figure it out.
He grunted in distress, yanking at the box again, and looking around for someone. In a language that only passes between a parent and their child, Severus sensed the little boy’s frustration, and disengaged himself from his conversation, kneeling next to his son. “Harry?” he asked softly. “What’s the matter?” Unable to describe his torment, Harry apparently decided it wasn’t worth it, discarded the box, and lifted both arms to his father, whimpering a vague request. “Yes, yes,” Severus mumbled soothingly in his ear as he swept him off the floor, “you’re very tired, aren’t you?” Harry buried his face into Severus’ shoulder and stuck a thumb in his mouth. Severus knew that Harry, quiet at the best of times except when alone with Draco, wouldn’t say anything at all for the rest of the party. He settled himself in the most comfortable sofa in the room and let Harry burrow into him. Putting the birthday boy down for a nap would be useless, he knew, with so many people in the house. Any distance or unfamiliar people between them would make him uneasy, he would be much calmer in his father’s arms. Without conscious thought, Snape lowered his cheek onto the top of his son’s feathery black hair and crooned nonsense to soothe him. With many of the other children becoming tired, restless and grouchy, (Harry’s party had been going for over two hours), the guests started to depart. With a cursory exchanged glance with their host in way of thanks and a parting guesture, they Flooed away. Soon only Draco, asleep in the pile of torn and discarded gift wrap, his mother, and Sirius remained. "I’ll put him in the second bedroom,” she told Severus quietly, gently lifting her son with a spell, so as not to jostle him awake as she moved him. Sirius sighed and flopped gracelessly onto the other couch. “Really, Black,” Snape smirked, while trying to keep his voice low, “you’d think that a Marauder would have no trouble keeping track of merely six children. Though whether you’re their equal in mental capacity…” “Sod off,” Sirius said with spirit. “I notice you played the perfect host and didn’t deign to get your hands dirty in sacrifice for their amusement.” “No, we already have enough animals in this house. I can only thank providence you didn’t give them all fleas.” Sirius only snorted, resting his head back and closing his eyes. Narcissa reappeared, as did Dobby with a tea service, popping back out once his duty was complete. She sipped her tea daintily. “I noticed a few little things today,” she began, looking from her cousin to her friend, her tone all business. Sirius roused himself and sat up, all attention. “As did I,” Severus answered. “Dobby, take Harry and put him to bed,” he instructed the house-elf, who popped back in when summoned and placed his hands on the young boy, who was now fast asleep, and they both disappeared. “You’ll have to start training him,” Narcissa said. The things she was referring to had not escaped the notice of any of Harry’s family. He was at the incidental magic stage – making something happen simply because he wanted it to. Unlike other wizarding children, these events were not in the same vein as summoning a toy, or replenishing a glass of juice. Harry never liked being in a crowd, but society was Draco’s element. Twice, Harry had gently ‘pushed’ the children in the playing area away from himself to secure a comfort zone, or to clear a visible path to his ‘brother’, from whom he drew comfort. The children and other adults had barely noticed this, but soon these incidents would most likely become more obvious and more creative. His family was conscious of teaching him control before he became dangerous. “Dammit,” Sirius swore, “Can’t he be a kid for a bit longer?” “I will not be treating him as any age but his own, Black. He will not be pushed beyond his limits.” “But he’ll be pushed to them, for sure,” Sirius grumbled. “Sirius,” Narcissa said gently, “we can make this like any other game we play. Our sons will begin learning how to use their magic. Draco will never reach Harry’s strength, but that does not mean we will treat them any differently from each other. They won’t know the difference between playing on toy brooms to using actual spells. To them it will be natural. Just as any child learns to grow up.”
The puddle rippled again, and when it stilled, showed lots of grass, with two figures rolling in it.
“Argh! Not fair, Drake, I had it first!” “Didn’t!” “Did!” “Didn’t!” the five-year-old blond shrieked. Draco brandished the stick they were using as a wand at Harry, giving it a very pompous and over-articulated flourish before announcing, “Pettiff’cus Total-sus!” and then, “Hey! You’re s’posed to fall down flat!” But Harry had other ideas. He ignored the way they usually played their game, he just wanted to get the wand back. “Mine!” he yelled, reaching his hand out to it. The stick leapt out of Draco’s hand and sailed over to Harry. Triumphant, he poked his tongue out at the other boy. Screeching in indignation, Draco tackled Harry and pulled at the stick. The battle continued for some mintues, until Narcissa walked out onto the grass. “Draco, Harry, it’s bathtime.” They groaned together, and, immediately united against a common enemy, quit the struggle and turned their cherubic faces and wide eyes towards their mother and godmother respectively. “Honestly, that only works on Sirius. In! Dobby will bathe you.” Any further attempts to dodge this completely unfair part of their daily routine were halted by a quiet, “Boys,” from an upstairs window. Harry’s daddy was much scarier than Draco’s mummy, so they scampered inside on the double.
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Malfoy and Snape. For the life of him, despite a very strong inclination, he couldn’t summon the hatred, disgust, or even contempt that he usually felt for the pair.
Malfoy was just a normal little boy. Severus looked like a capable, caring father, and he was friends with Sirius! They chose to be in each other’s company. That was …good, wasn’t it?
If he was honest with himself, he’d admit to feeling a few pangs of… not jealousy, there was no-one to be jealous of… but a sort of wistful longing. He had once told Ron, quite seriously, that anything would have been better than the Dursleys; now that he was shown an alternative, he was unwilling to dismiss it instantly simply because of who it featured.
Maybe, given an alternate set of circumstances, both Malfoy and Snape would be quite different. Oh, he was sure they’d still be arrogant, elitist Slytherins, but they would be his family. Narcissa didn’t constantly look like something had died under her nose. Which could have been from the absence of her husband, he supposed.
Was this reality even possible? The presence of a recognisable Sirius helped a lot, he realised. He could tell that Padfoot was still the Marauder he’d known, and was happier, given many less years in Azkaban. He longed to see his godfather again, remembering the wonderful but far too brief relationship they had shared. To imagine growing up with him as a constant presence made his heart ache.
He looked to Parcae, ready for the next installment. He was now prepared to accept this as a better alternative, deciding to swallow his pride where the Slytherins were concerned. If Sirius could get over Snape, then why couldn’t he?