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The Man His Father Was

His face fell in shadow as he crept along the half darkened corridor. It wasn't quite the evening yet, but rain washed down the stained glass windows and clouds darkened the sky outside, making it necessary to light the torches in the castle.

In the distance, he could hear her laughter, light and airy at something the boy had said... no, at something the man had said, for that is what he was, no longer a boy, but a man who had taken on some vast, unending responsibility that was not his to take. Is that what it meant to be a Gryffindor? What did it mean to be a Slytherin then, sharp and cunning, and loyal yes, but cowardly? It was not only that he was being irresponsible... he wanted to take it on, to make it his, but could not for the consequences he should have to pay for even thinking about it, for admitting that the baby was his, that he loved her more than he had ever loved another person.

There was the laughter again, and he paused. She used to laugh when he spoke... used to be holding his hand and kissing his lips, but no more. Now she was there for Potter to take. Why had she said it was his child? Was she embarrassed? No, remember you fool, it was I who failed to respond to her owls. Potter was the safe bet, the one who would take the fall instead of her.

He leaned against a cold wall next to a suit of armor and banged his head, bangs falling forward into his face. Coward, he told himself, that is what you are isn't it? Afraid of being shipped off to some other school, or locked up, or beaten because you got a girl pregnant... not just any girl, but a mudblood. A mudblood that you love. He had watched uneasily at first as Potter stuck up for her, happy that somebody was doing what he wasn't, and then anxiously as they began eating meals together, studying in the library side by side, holding hands... weeks had gone by and the castle was sure now that it was Potter's baby and that he was finally doing right by Susan. Weeks had gone by and she had kept her mouth shut, not told a soul that he, the Slytherin coward was the father.

What a mess he'd gotten himself into now. He could neither eat nor sleep, and his mind strayed from work to her and the baby, and to Potter's grubby hands all over her when he wasn't looking. Who knew what they were doing now that there was no chance she could get pregnant... again. He thought of hexing Potter, or killing him in his sleep in that guest room the Headmaster let him stay in. But no, just more weight on his conscience. What could he do, what could he do? His mind raced as the voices grew softer, moving towards the library. I have to do something, he told himself. But what?

* * *

"What now?"

Susan's voice was soft as they sat on the corridor floor at the end of the hall in a darkened part of the castle, far from prying ears. Harry had just told her that he would take care of her and the baby, and claim them as his own.

"I dunno. I wasn't ready to be a father yet. I have some money in my vault to get by on. I still have a year left in school after this, and you have two. Maybe we could move away and hire a tutor to get us through OWLs and NEWTs."

"You would do that?" Her eyes were big and round, and shiny. Harry couldn't help but be reminded of Ginny's eyes, and his heart throbbed then, a sharp stab as if a knife had been lodged that could not be removed.

"I don't know what else to do. What do your parents think?"

"My mom wants to be supportive, but my dad is mostly angry. He saw the picture of you beat up in the paper and said he wished he could get his hands on you to do what the Prophet said he did."

"Yeah, well let's hope he doesn't get the chance."

She laughed nervously then. "I didn't mean for all of this to happen to you."

"I know," Harry said. "You told me."

"I feel really bad."

"Are you going to tell me why you said it was me then, if you didn't mean for this to happen?"

"Why haven't you asked me that yet?"

"I figured you had your reasons."

"You aren't mad at me?"

"It's a hard situation to be in. I can't blame you. I just want to know why."

She fidgeted with her fingers then, clasped together. "I was... scared. And embarrassed."

"Why were you with somebody if you were embarrassed of them?"

"I love him."

"Still?"

"Yes. I wasn't embarrassed then. I'm embarrassed to say that I got pregnant, because I thought he loved me, and then when I owled to tell him I was pregnant, he ignored me. He hasn't spoken to me since. I thought he cared."

"Who is it?"

She bit her lip in the same way that Ginny and Hermione often did. "I can't Harry, I just can't. He's in your year though, and he's a Slytherin."

"Well that narrows it down... there's only six of them."

He thought it over and said, "I didn't think anybody liked Slytherins except Slytherins."

"Some of them date out of the house."

"So... you're pureblood then?" he was trying to make sense of it.

"No. Maybe that's why he hasn't spoken to me... because I'm... you know. A mudblood."

"That's a dirty word. Don't say it."

"Ok."

Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulder and said, "Don't worry, we'll figure something out."

* * *

"Hem hem."

Harry stopped walking and narrowed his eyes, looking around the dark corridor. He could have sworn he'd just heard Umbridge's fake cough, even though he knew the witch was banned from Hogwarts since the end of the previous year for cruel and unusual punishment of students and staff.

"Hem hem." There it was again. Deciding that there was no one in the corridor ahead of him, he backtracked a dozen paces and came to the short corridor with the entrance to Gryffindor. It was empty aside from the portrait of the fat lady. Harry had frequently considered burning her portrait for what she'd done, not letting him into the common room... it wasn't like she couldn't flee to another picture, but he had decided against it in the end.

"Mr. Potter."

"Yeah?" He was cautious and uncertain.

"Would you like to come in?"

Harry frowned. Had he heard right? He was fairly tired and was perhaps hearing things. "Excuse me?"

"Would you like to enter the common room?"

"You're inviting me in?"

"Yes."

Harry stood up straighter and scratched his head. "Without a password?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You are a worthy Gryffindor now."

Harry walked up to her and stopped a few feet short. "What are you talking about?"

"You are finally the man your father was."

"I don't understand."

"You have done the right thing."

At the risk of being denounced as a Gryffindor again, Harry cleared his throat and said, "Even though I wasn't the one responsible in the first place?"

"Despite of the fact that you weren't the culprit, you still stepped up and took responsibility. And that is a noble pursuit, worthy of entrance to Gryffindor tower."

Harry paused, thinking about it. He felt out of place in the guest room, as if he didn't belong anywhere, but he had moved out of the tower for a reason. "No one will accept me if I move back in," he said.

"They will have to deal with me should they refuse to treat you as a Gryffindor would."

"So... I tattle?"

"Do I look like the bare patch of wall that guards Slytherin?" She had her hands on her hips now. Harry shook his head, and she said, "There are portraits in the common room and stairwells, are there not? Go in Mr. Potter, and sleep well."

He felt anxious all of a sudden and he wasn't sure why. Here he had just been proclaimed a Gryffindor again, and he felt too cowardly to go in.

"Go on. Off to bed with you before you're caught out and lose house points."

She swung open and Harry hedged forward, unaware that a tall, dark haired Potion's Master lurked in the shadows around a corner, heart gripped tight as if he'd just seen a ghost.

Inside, the common room was mostly empty aside from a few younger students playing a game by the fire, a seventh year studying for owls in the corner, and red head reading quietly on the couch.

"Harry?"

"Ginny."

"What are you doing here?"

"I think I still live here."

"I thought Lady Justice wasn't letting you in."

"She called to me in the hall and told me to go inside."

"Oh." Ginny looked to the ground. "I've seen you around with Susan."

"Yeah."

"Are you dating now?"

"I don't know. My friends disowned me and my girlfriend dumped me even though I told them all I was innocent. And the only other person in the castle being singled out is Susan. She needs me."

"So that's a yes?"

"So that's an I don't know what we are. Friends helping each other." He rubbed his eyes then. "I'm tired and I have a test in Potion's tomorrow. I'm going up to bed."

"Cast a de-jinxing spell first," she warned him as he moved off. "I think Seamus hexed the bed in case you came back."

Harry turned. "To do what? Or do I want to know?"

"Probably better if you don't. Just run the standard counter jinxes over it before you climb in."

"Thanks." He turned and went up the stairs, feeling as though he were in a foreign place, somewhere he was unwelcome and didn't belong.

When he opened the dormitory door, he found his dorm mates lounging on Dean's bed playing some Muggle board game Harry hadn't yet seen. They all looked up at him and Neville exclaimed happily, "Harry! You're back!"

Ron scoffed and said, "Forget something?"

"Yeah, my bed." Harry pulled out his wand and ran through several counter jinxes and hexes, satisfied when the spells turned blue several times proclaiming the bed clean. The other boys, aside from Neville, narrowed their eyes, and Harry climbed in. When nothing happened to him, he closed the curtain, cast a silencing charm so they couldn't hear him, but he could hear them, and then cast a protective barrier to keep himself safe. Finally feeling secure, Harry lay back and stared at the hangings. He hadn't quite had time to think about it yet, but something was bothering him. It was what the portrait had said about finally being the man his father was. What did that mean?

When Harry hadn't claimed Susan, he fell short of his father. But then when he had taken responsibility for her, even though she wasn't his responsibility, he suddenly met the standard? He lay for a long time thinking about it, far longer than the other boys stayed up. And as he drifted off to sleep, his mind somehow became more alert to his subconscious thoughts and worries. When he woke up, he knew that his perceptions of his parentage were mislead. Someone, not James Potter, had gotten his mother pregnant. And then, Gryffindor that he was, James claimed Lily and they covered it up. But if James wasn't his father, who was?

Chapter End Notes:
Comments? By the way, Harry's thoughts about setting the fat lady on fire came straight from a reviewer... I laughed so hard when I read it. Great idea! I love to hear all reviews!

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