1979
Severus laid on his back, blissfully twirling a strand of Lily’s hair in his hands. Taking a deep, contented breath, he wrapped his arms around his new wife and hugged her close. As expected, and desperately wanted, Lily giggled, her voice a beautiful melody all on its own.
“Sev!” she turned in his arms and smiled up at him. “What are you doing?”
With a soft smile, the wizard kissed the top of his wife’s head, loving how soft her hair was. “Cuddling,” came the comfortable reply.
Giggling again, Lily sat up so that her hair provided a privacy curtain, keeping their intimacy in. Seductively, she leaned down and commandeered Severus’s lips for her own. It was several minutes before they parted again. “And,” her voice was breathy, “do you like cuddling?” she smiled mischievously.
His own lips parted in an roughish grin. “No,” he began twirling her hair once more. “I hate it.”
“Then I’ll just have to keep cuddling, lest you get spoiled,” she gave him a quick peck on the nose.
Severus’s grin became a full-fledged smile, and he laughed softly. “Oh dear, what shall I do!”
The newlyweds laughed softly in the early morning, neither one of them wanting to get up. As the sun slipped into their window, they remained where they were, just simply enjoying the presence of the other. Just holding Lily in his arms was perhaps the greatest thing Severus had ever done. Nothing else mattered.
1994
Peeling open his too heavy eyelids, Severus rolled over on his side with a low groan. What time was it?
He woke with an uncomfortable pressure on his bladder, and although he did not want to get up, he knew he had to get up. Groping for his wand, Severus found it after several minutes on the desk beside him in his cloak. When had be shrugged off the stupid thing? It didn’t matter really.
Sitting up stiffly, the Potions Master stretched his arms before swinging his legs over. As it always did, the cold floor against his bare feet awakened him immediately. But what the wizard could not figure out was how he had managed to sleep so heavily? He never slept in a deep sleep, and when he did, it was always broken by some nightmare or another. Having an acute case of paranoia had also contributed to the fact that he did not like to sleep as well.
But as he stood and tried to take a step, Severus found something lying on the floor. He frowned and illuminated his wand to find that P- Harry was sleeping on the floor. Why in bloody Merlin’s name would the child be sleeping on the floor? Why hadn’t the boy gone to his own bed? Certainly it was not because the boy wanted to keep an eye out for his professor…was it?
Staring down at the boy, who seemed to be in a comfortable dream, the teacher- no, father- could not tear his eyes away. Under all of this glamour of James Potter, there had to be more of Lily in the child than just the eyes. Under all of this secret there had to be some of Severus in him too.
Such thoughts were not productive at the moment and Severus dismissed them. He was feeling better and he would be able to handle everything later today, but right now he was starting to feel quite ill with not having used the restroom since sometime the evening before last. But then yesterday he had been quite preoccupied, and magic had its other uses…
But on to immediate matters. The idea, though noble in intentions, of sleeping on the floor by his bedside was laudable, Severus did not like the thought of the child sleeping on the cold, hard floor. Animals slept on the floor, not his son.
Levitating Harry onto the bed, Severus tucked the boy in, making sure not to wake him. His hands were gentle and soft, almost as though he were not touching the boy at all as he made sure there were no spots left uncovered. Besides, it would not do to have the child catching a chill would it? All of this was just to make sure Dumbledore’s Golden-Boy didn’t get ill.
As he thought of this, a sour bile flooded Severus’s mouth. No, no he could not do it anymore, not ever again. This was not a Potter, this child was his and even though he could strangle the boy at times, the Potions Master knew that he would never again be able to hate the Gryffindor. He did not have the heart to continue hating him.
Severus was determined to leave at that point, but then froze in favor of watching Harry sleep. Merlin, but he forgot how young the boy was! Only fourteen, if he remembered correctly. So young, without parents. But not any longer. Although he did not know why he was willing to accept this change so easily, Severus found himself vowing silently to Lily that he would do more than just look after her child, his child. He would mentor Harry, guide him, and hopefully knock some sense into his unusually thick skull.
With uncertain hands, Severus ran his hands through the boy’s thick black locks. It was so soft. Just like Lily’s…
Turning around, the Potions Master left. But when he came to the door, he found it locked. Frowning in confusion and irritation, Severus easily unlocked it, remembering that he had seen the unusual amount of them the day before. Why were those wretched things on there anyway?
Recalling from a distant memory that there was a bathroom on the upper floor, Severus, by process of elimination, found the restroom quite easily. It really was quite simple, you just ignored the rooms with all the snoring. But once he got there, he quickly locked himself in and was able to relieve himself.
After washing his hands, Severus knew he would never be able to go back to sleep, even though he felt starved for it. He was used to so little sleep, that on the rare occasion that he did manage to get more than his usual four hours, he felt sluggish and grumpy. It really was not a good combination for a man that was said to have a temper like a fuse. Once lit, no one could stop it.
Yet he was determined not to be too… put out today. As he washed his face, Severus mentally made a list of things he had to do that day. He had to first off send a message to the Headmaster, however odious the old man was. As leader of the Order, Dumbledore deserved to know what had happened to his best spy. Perhaps I could let him think I’m dead, see how he likes it. The thought, however appealing, was not practical, and Severus knew it. Despite his knew found hatred for the Headmaster, Dumbledore had to be informed.
After writing the letter, he and Harry would have to have a long talk. There were so many misconceptions and disagreements that they had to sort through first before they would ever be able to truly stand each other. The Potions Master knew the boy hated him, but he would try to rectify everything, if for nothing else than to appease Lily. She would want them to be a family, even if she was not in it.
But would the boy even want a relationship with him? It surprised Severus that the thought scared him so much. When had he latched on to Harry as his last hope? As his link back into humanity and a world that was made of light? Would Harry consent to coming with his father, or would he prefer to continue living here with the Dursleys?
Harry had been in shock most of the day yesterday, did the boy still doubt there relationship? There was no doubt in Severus’s mind that Harry was his son. After regaining some of his…more pleasurable memories, and after reading Lily’s journal, Severus knew he was the boy’s father. Even with an extra month of pregnancy, the Potions Master still did not doubt Lily’s words in her diary. She had always been quite talented with charms, and with the right ones set into place, a ten month pregnancy was conceivable.
Scowling at his reflection, Severus rubbed his chin when the beginnings of a beard was growing. Lily had always loved his beard, told him it made him look distinguished, but Severus hated it. When he had facial hair, he tended to look like his father. He did not want to look anything like that man! But he had grown one out, just prior to his “death” as he had not minded Lily rubbing her hands and face all over him because he was “soft”.
The smile at the memory quickly fled as Harry came back into his thoughts. Severus was determined to make the boy believe the truth. There was a paternity test, a simple potion made from very common ingredients. If he could make one, then he could show Harry that they were father and son. There would be no doubt. Harry would have to accept him!
With that thought fixed in his mind, the Potions Master decided that he should go look around the house to see if he could find what he needed. He could use Harry’s cauldron and some of his potions ingredients and then look around the garden and kitchen for anything else he might need. Seeing as this was a simple potion to brew, Severus was confident that he remembered the instructions by memory. He had a very good memory, and at one point in time, he had been able to list all of the potions along with their instructions that had been in his potions book in school. However, he had memorized other potions, darker potions, as well, and Filius had once jokingly called him the “human potions encyclopedia.” The half goblin was really not far from the truth.
Shaking his head, trying to focus back on his purpose, Severus left the bathroom and quietly gathered his robes from out of the room Harry was sleeping in. Again, the man found that when he looked down at the child, he had an overwhelming urge to run his hands through the boy’s hair. What was wrong with him? He was supposed to be the terrifying Potions Master, not the hugs and flowers potions teacher.
Glancing at the clock, Severus found that it was only four o’clock in the morning. He noticed that the alarm was on and set to a rather early hour. Teenage boys needed sleep, right? At least that’s what his Slytherins always complained about when he gave them their schedules. In that, Gryffindors could not be much different. So he flipped it off. He would wake the boy later, or his relatives could.
Finding himself before the stairs once again, Severus stopped and looked down. Leaning against the wall for support, the wizard took a deep breath. Silently, he counted each and every step. Thirty-four, there was only thirty-four little steps. Much smaller than Hogwarts. He had been up and down these steps before yesterday, he could climb down.
Taking in another deep breath, but holding it, Severus descended quickly, his hands on the rail and along the wall. Only when he reached the bottom did he exhale. That hadn’t been so bad, right? Hogwarts was much worse, and, spurred on by his reputation, Severus had to journey a lot by those abominable stairs. Here, at least he had time to hold his breath before he took the plunge.
Walking back into the parlor, the wizard glared at it. Lace and frills and disgusting pinks. It looked like Lockhart threw up in here on Valentines day. Why did Petunia like such horrid colors?
But as he was going to ignore it in favor of going to the kitchen, Severus stopped. There were pictures everywhere, he noticed, but they only held three people in them. Spinning back around, the wizard began looking at each photograph. In every one there was Petunia, that fat slob Vernon, and a largely obese boy. Where was Harry in all of these pictures?
The more he looked, the more frantic Severus became at trying to find a picture of Harry. But the more he looked, the more disappointed he was. Nothing. Not one single photo!
A horrible dread filled Severus’s stomach as he recalled the bruise on Harry’s cheek. He had asked the boy about it, and had known the child had been hit by someone, even though the younger wizard had lied about it. He had known Harry was covering for something, that someone close to him had hurt him. But no, it could not be… not in Petunia’s house!
Rushing out of the parlor, the wizard found himself looking everywhere for even a trace that would suggest Harry lived here at all. But he found nothing. Nothing! That room, the room he had slept in, had that been the boy’s bedroom? Was that why he slept on the floor, because there was nowhere else? Was that why the door had so many locks, and the window barred?
Desperate, Severus looked for anything he thought might be Harry's, and as a last resort, he flung open the door to cupboard, hoping to find something of Harry’s that had been stored there. But what he found, horrified the new father more than anything else ever had.
There, hanging on the back of the door, was a single piece of yellowing paper. Drawn in crayon, in a sloppy, childish handwriting, it said, “Harry’s Room.”