beyond the heart

8/9/2019 Beyond the Heart

1/41

Prologue

Harry's POV

The hunger is tearing me up inside. I haven't been able to eat for quite a whilenow, as the Dursleys is keeping me at existence minimum. Nothing new there. Therunning point is that my body needs nutrition more now than ever. Not only am Ia growing teenager, but I'm also recovering from my latest joust with Voldemort

. Madame Pomfrey gave me serious orders to eat plentiful and healthily during the holidays. I don't think she counted on my relatives though. There's no doubt I

will survive, but considering I'm well past being able to count my ribs

I live in the cellar now. The Dursleys actually spent some money on installing acot and a toilet down here during the term. Dudley finally convinced them that

he needed the second bedroom I guess. It's not too bad down here, if you consider how people on the street have it. Cold as hell, slightly damp and full of nice

little critters, but habitable. Not that it matters, as I'm too weak to appreciate it any more. I spend most of my time on my cot, buried beneath my quilt.

The Dursleys showed me here as soon as I arrived, telling me that I wouldn't have to do any shores this year, that I instead would stay here for the summer andbe left alone. They even were so kind as to leave me my school things minus my wand in here. Hedwig they let loose at my suggestion, and I guess she is either at Ron's or at Hogwarts. Food is provided once a day, but with Dudley on a diet again, you can guess how much food I get. I quickly started to loose weight and then the hunger kicked in. Now I've gotten so far as to not being able to eat anything without throwing up. I think it's a rather bad sign.

Feeling tired, like I've been feeling for a long while now, I huddle myself intoa ball, hugging the quilt tightly around me. It doesn't help against the hunger

, but at least it keeps to cold out. I can feel my eyes falling together, and Iknow that the hell I live in will soon be replaced by the hell I dream of.Sev's POV

Just for the record, I do hate Potter. The little brat could just stay away fromHogwarts for the rest of his life and hide for all I care. However, Dumbledore

doesn't share my opinion of the annoyance of my life. He thinks I should be niceto spoiled, arrogant Potter with his famous name and family fortune. My only co

mment to that is: 'I would rather be hit by a dozen of Cruciatus curses'. And because of that all too accurate comment, I'm on my way to the Dursley house to pick up the little monster so he can meet his cold-hearted, bastard godfather, whom is even worse than he is.

Still blazing over the unfair mission I've been given, I jump off my broom behin

d a strategically conjured bush and dust off my impeccable black slacks and shirt after leaning the broom against a wall. The reason I chose not to Apparate here, is that I really don't like that way of travelling. It makes me sick, and reminds me of Voldemort. I always have to Apparate to his manor when I'm summoned before him. And that is one of the most unpleasant things you can experience.

I walk over to the plain door and promptly knock on it, wearing an expressionless face. I can hear feet walk over to the door, and then it opens, revealing thefattest boy I've ever seen. He could easily win a weight competition with a rhino, and isn't more than a few inches taller than Potter. Disgusting. Another proof of the spoilage going on in this house. I'm surprised Potter isn't as fat as he is.

"Dudleykins? Who is it?"

The voice belongs to a woman, and as she speaks, 'Dudleykins' glares at me.


2/41

"Some man with yellow skin" he yells back, his voice sounding like a tortured pig.

Yellow skin? I can see where Potter's insolence comes from. A fat man is comingfrom what I deduce to be the living room, an impatient look on his face as he stares at me. This family sure isn't one of the nicest muggle families I've met in

my life. Potter fits right in with them.

"What do you want?" the man bellows at me.

I glare back at him, my best Death Eater expression on my face.

"I'm here to fetch Potter," I curtly answer, not wanting to spend more time thanneeded with Potter and his family.

To my surprise, 'Dudleykins' pales and shrieks, running away while holding his butt possessively. Strange boy. The man just glowers at me though, probably thinking he's intimidating. Personally, I have a rather easy time to not cower before

him."So you're getting the boy early this year," the man snarls, a pompous look on his face, making me wonder for a second if thinking you're above everyone else goes in Potter's family. "Well, take him with you and do feel free to keep him."

Muggles! I glower at him and step into the house while pondering his last sentence. If my skills at interpreting the human language hasn't wilted and died, theman indicated that Potter wasn't much liked by his relatives. But they were hisfamily, and aren't family supposed to love each other?

"Just hand over the boy and his things," I coldly say, somewhat absently I haveto admit though. The situation I've stumbled into puzzles me, I haven't seen a glint of Potter so far C but then again, if Potter's family behaves like this to

him I don't blame him from keeping his distance. Maybe he has a handful of brains in that Gryffindor head after all. "And I may refrain from hexing you."

The man glares at me but waddles over to a locked cupboard, reaching into it totake out Potter's wand. I can't imagine what it's doing in there either. If it is something that Hogwarts teaches, it's to always keep your wand near. You would

think that Potter with his attraction to trouble would have learned that by now. But seemingly not.

Taking the wand the man offers me, I pocket it and follow the very ireful man toPotter's room. To my surprise, he doesn't lead me upstairs, where the bedrooms

must be, but lead me to the kitchen and a door next to the larder. Taken by surprise, I stare at the barred door that obviously lead down to the cellar. Pottercan't be kept and barred into the cellar, can he?

Confirming my suspicions, the man reaches out to heave away the heavy beam blocking the door. They are keeping Potter locked into the cellar. Quickly, I shove the man to the side, ignoring the fact that he falls to his butt and whisper 'alohomora' under my breath, directing the magic to the bar and door before me. Barfalling apart, the door turning into dust due the will behind the spell. And I am angry.

I stare down the dimly lit staircase leading down into the ground. A cellar. They put him in a cellar. Mentally, I try to repress the panicked flashbacks of darkness, of fear, of loneliness and pain from my childhood to concentrate on the now. This is not good, and I truly fear what I will find at the bottom of the stairs. For if they can lock a teenager into a cellar, what else can they do? Potte


3/41

r may not be my favourite person of all time, but no student of mine will ever have to go through something like this. Because I know all too well what it can do to you.

Rapidly descending down into the cellar, I concentrate as much as I can on the now instead of the past memories that keep resurfacing. Shuddering involuntarily,

I murmur a 'lumos' to my wand to light up the staircase further and chase awaythe memories of being alone and scared in the darkness.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I look around, searching for the figure of the boy Harry Potter. His relatives apparently were nice enough to install a toilet down here, and I can see the outline of a small cot on the other side of the room. But even so, it's far below the living standards I consider acceptable. Especially considering the bar upstairs.

Stepping further into the room, I spot him, lying on the cot with a quilt wrapped tightly around him. Judging from his trembling form and the cool air down here, he is cold. If he has been living down here since he returned from Hogwarts, I

wouldn't be surprised if I have to make a coughing cure. He needs to get out of

here.The light I carry seems to wake him up, causing him to sit up and squint at me through the meagre light, staring uncomprehendingly at me for a second before recognizing me.

"Professor Snape?" his voice is quiet as if he hasn't used it for some time andI can barely hear him. Something that is more than possible with those muggles upstairs.

"Yes," I curtly say, my voice somewhat softer than usually.

His face lightens up and he gets to his feet slowly, as if every move he makes is a pain, dropping the blanket in the process. And when I see how he looks, I have to withhold a strangled cry. Potter has never been a very big boy, despite the fact that neither of his parents were what you can call small. Now I understand why. Because if Potter was thin before, he's a skeleton now. I've never seen anyone so thin outside pictures before. There's no doubt about the reason either.

The inhuman worms upstairs haven't been feeding him enough.

"Potter," I carefully say, walking over to the boy, "Listen to me carefully now.How long was it since you got any food?"

He gives me a weak grin as the Gryffindor he is.

"Today," he rasps, pushing a longish strand of black hair from his face. "Some fruit. I couldn't keep it though. I haven't been able to do that for a while now."

Damn. That's it. He's going to Poppy now. And he's not going back here. Ever. Not while I'm still standing. Pointing at him with my wand, I mutter a short spell

intending to put him into a healing rest. Then I lift him into my arms and Apparate. I can come back for the broom later. Right now, I have more important things to do.Harry's POV

End of 5th year

I watch Hedwig as she flies down to me, carrying the last mail I will get in my5th year C the results of the OWLs. Glancing at Hermione, I can see how she almost jumps up and down of anxiousness. As if she has anything to worry about. Ron


4/41

however, is glumly looking at his plate, obviously expecting a not too good result, even though Hermione has tried to prepare us since our first year. I though, just hope for the best. It has been really hard to pass the tests this year.

Much has happened this year. With Voldemort revived, even if not 'officially' due to Fudge's slight denseness, it has been all action and adventure. And pleasenotice the sarcasm. Professors have been coming and going all over the place, out on unofficial missions for the Order of Phoenix. Especially Snape. I think hedidn't even teach half of our lessons this year. And even though it feels strange to say it, our replacement, professor Sicklewing, isn't nearly as good as he.

The Order of Phoenix. I still remember when I heard of it last summer, eavesdropping on Dumbledore. Then, I didn't know much about them, now I know much more. I

can't say I like them too much though. But that may have something to do with them using me as beat at the end of the year to catch a bunch of death eaters. Of

course, they managed to botch it up, and I ended up having a little talk with His Silliness Voldemort. Over a fireplace thank lord, after managing to dispose of the death eaters with Ron and Hermione.

Speaking of Hermione, she has gotten her result now and is reading it intently,her eyes wide.

"I made it!" she shrieks. "I have the best grades in our year!"

I smile at her and receive my own letter from Hedwig, waiting with opening it though, seeing as Ron just received his and is opening it with shaking hands. Andas his eyes widen, I know he has succeeded.

"I got more OWLs than Fred and George," he excitedly says. "Three more even. Guess if mom's going to be happy!"

Both Hermione and I laugh with him, clapping him on his shoulders.

"Well done!" I smile, happy for him. "Did you get any in potions, or did Snape drag down your result again?"

Ron shakes his head no, and Hermione looks wonderingly at Snape.

"Is it my imagination, or has Snape been easier on us this year?" she asks. "I can't think of even one occasion he's failed someone without reasons or been unusually hard on us."

Ron Iooks at her as if she's gone mad.

"Are we talking about the same person here?" Ron sceptically asks. "Snape, the slimy git whose only goal in life is to make everyone's life miserable?"

Hermione glares at him, but doesn't mention it again. Instead, she turns to me,looking expectantly at me.

"Well?" she questions. "How did you manage?"

I shake my head and take my letter. Then I break the seal and draw out the paper, scanning the paper and smiling. I managed quite well. I even have three OWLs in Transfiguration, as well as in flying, but I guess that is to be expected. What I didn't expect though, were the two OWLs I got in Potions.

Frowning, I ponder everything that has happened since Snape picked me up from the Dursleys last year. Maybe Snape has changed


5/41

Snape's POV

Watching obtrusively as the three musketeers of Gryffindor open their letters, Ismirk slightly at their expressions, only to frown as I think about the things

I have learned this year. After fetching Harry for Dumbledore, I engaged in a little spy activity in the muggle district Surrey, set on finding the truth aboutHarry Potter. The result wasn't too nice. Apparently the Dursleys are well known

for caring for a 'hopelessly criminal boy' who's not 'quite in possession of his mind'. In short, they consider him a freak of nature.

I shudder at the thought of it. It is hard enough growing up without anyone to love and care about you, but to grow up with constant reminding that you are a freak? Something makes me doubt Harry knows much about the love of a family at all. But that is something I'll do my best to correct. I may not be the ideal person to do it, but I certainly have the motivation. Hopefully, that will be enoughto begin with

Dumbledore's POV

Severus is clearly fretting over the decision he has made, no matter how many times I've told him that he will be just fine. He and Harry will no doubt be goodfor each other. Harry needs a family, and Severus needs to live again. Even if I

can see that having someone to care about is warming him up already

NextChapter One Harry's POV

Looking at the train, I feel uneasy as I think of what will come. Another summerspent in isolation and discomfort at the Dursleys. Faintly, I wonder what will

happen to me this summer. After all, last summer wasn't one of the most pleasantI've had in my life. Even if you cannot call any of them pleasant. That summer,I really wondered if what I was going through was right, if this was truly some

thing I should put up with. At the end of the summer, I was seriously starting to doubt that I could trust the Dursleys anymore. They are family, but what theycaused me to become then isn't easily forgiven.

I have to admit I probably would have come out much worse if not Snape had cometo fetch me to Hogwarts that summer at Dumbledore's request (due to Sirius wanting to visit me). Never had I been so happy to see old nasty Snape in his dramatic black robes and greasy hair as then. But then again, he wasn't nasty at that time. He was actually rather nice. And more worried than I ever would have pegged

him to be about the abhorred Boy Who Lived. When I woke up, I was in the hospital wing, being treated for malnutrition. Dumbledore was not very pleased with the Dursleys right then. Neither was Snape judging from his disgusted look as he t

old the headmaster about it. Needless to say, I stayed with Sirius alternativelythe Weasleys the rest of that summer, recovering.

Anyway, here I am, standing at the station in Hogsmeade and preparing to board the train and go back to Uncle Vernon and the rest of my loving relatives. Feeling tired and not so little negative. I mean, I have just spent another year under

the threat of Voldemort, a revived one at that. One would think that this should be the best part of the year. Instead, this is worse than a face off with Voldemort. At least all he wants to do is kill me and maybe torture me. The Dursleys

seem to think that I don't have the right to exist. Is this what family is supposed to be like?

With a resigned sigh, I heft my trunk onboard the train and try to step onboardmyself. However, that is apparently not my fate as a strong hand with long, slender fingers grabs my arm and holds me back, another hand directing the trunk back onto the station with a wand.


6/41

"And where do you think you're going?" a low, all too dangerous voice asks, belonging to my all too despised potions teacher.

I gulp and turn around, facing the dark and very pissed Death Eater-turned-spy.What have I done wrong now?

"To the Dursleys?" I say with as much courage I can muster. Where else would I be going? It's the only home I have!

One of the dark eyebrows disappears behind the drape of greasy black hair alwayshanging in his face.

"No, you are not" he simply says. "Or do you want to go back to living in the cellar, unloved and uncared for?"

I shake my head furiously. Which sane person would want to live in a cold, dim,isolated and lonely cellar, forgotten by all? Someone maybe, but certainly not I. But it isn't as if I have an alternative.

"Good" Snape nods, grabbing his wand. "Mobiliarbus."

My trunk raise into the air, pulled by invisible strings. Then, Snape starts toguide us both back to Hogwarts. My faithful trunk and I. And we are both thoroughly confused by this new turn of events.

Snape lets go of my trunk and me the moment we are inside Hogwart's walls guiding the latter gently to the ground. The next second, he strides off down one of the many corridors, no doubt heading towards the dungeons, leaving me alone and utterly confused.

"All right" I mutter. "What to do."

I shrug, choosing to simply sit down on my trunk, waiting for something to happen. In normal case, I would've called for Dobby and his friends asking them to get my trunk to my room in Gryffindor's tower, but this isn't a normal case. It is

unheard of to let a student stay at Hogwarts over summer since Riddle's framingof Hagrid, and I don't know what to do.

Bored, I stare at the intricate pattern on the ornate doors leading out. As faras I can tell, there are thirty-nine roses on it. Forty-five minutes later, I also know there are 205 bumblebees hidden on it. I am just about to start counting

the trees scattered all over it when I hear steps closing in on me.

Relieved that someone is finally coming, even as it most probably is Snape, I rise and turn towards the sound. I really don't know what I expect to see, but itcertainly isn't a newly showered Snape with his now non-greasy hair in a ponytail and dressed in muggle pants, a tight, black tee and an open robe. It has to be

an illusion.

"Quit staring, Potter"

On the other hand, maybe it isn't, I conclude. He is carrying a sleek, black broom in one hand and a trunk is trailing behind him, upheld by the magic of his wand. Apparently, he is leaving, only the gods know to where.

"Well, come on, Potter" he irritated says, his voice somewhat annoyed. "We haven't got all day."

And apparently soon me as well. This has to be one of the strangest days ever. T


7/41

aking his lead, I grab my pocketed wand and mumble the appropriate spell to makemy trunk trail after me like a puppy. I am apparently following Snape this summ

er, and I cannot really decide what I think of it.

Well outside, I find that Snape has mounted his broom and is waiting impatientlyfor me. Deciding not to make him grouchier than he already is, I do the same an

d look expectantly at him.

"Sir?" I ask, using as little words as possible, as I still don't know where I have him. It seems to be safer to assume that he, like the Dursleys, prefer whenI'm quiet and out of sight. I mean, this is my grouchy, bad tempered pain-in-the-ass potion professor, but he's also the man who has taken me from the Dursleysand is almost pleasant in his free time. My assumption doesn't seem to suit himwell though, because he frowns, almost glaring at me.

"We are going to my cottage" he enlightens me, a slightly exasperated key to hisvoice. "And school's over for now. You may as well call me Severus like everyon

e else. Or Sev if you prefer that."

Did my ears just hear that? I am beyond baffled. Did Snape just allow me to callhim by his first name? His petname? This world is definitely ending. But I don't get any more time to think about it, as Snape C no, Severus, I'm not about to

risk calling him Sev, it's hard enough to call him Severus C kicks off, forcing me to follow. Still, the thoughts jumble in my mind. Sev? Cottage? I have never seen this side in Snape. Nevertheless, I can already say I like it better than

his usual self.Sev's POV

I'm still raging at the thought of what Harry had to endure last summer. And probably all the other summers and years he spent with the Dursleys. How can one do

such a thing to a child, let alone a relative? But then again, who am I to judge, Death Eater as I am. Or was. I've killed children after all, tortured them, felt pleasure in their pain. Even my own

I shake those thoughts from my head. There's no use in going on a guilt trip right now, everything is hard enough as it is. I mean, look at the present situation! I'm flying a few kilometres above the ground within an anti-muggle bubble. The adolescent I've practically harassed since the first time I met him is following me tight on my heels, probably trying to figure out why I'm so nice to him so

suddenly. Then there's the fact we're going to my cottage, where I haven't brought anyone since that day, after allowing Harry to see me more casual than I'veshown myself in public for a long time. Then we have the fact that Sirius Blackand his werewolf friend Remus is going to go berserk on me when they find out about the situation. Well, maybe not Remus Lupin, he's always been the more sensib

le of them, but can you say 'strange situation'? Add the fact that the boy is targeted by Voldemort, the one I serve, and you have a big mess. Literally.

I glance back at the boy riding behind and to my left. He's fifteen years old, yet he is only 5'2" tall, and neither of his parents was very short. My guess isthe lack of a healthy life has inhibited his growing process, especially the events last summer. However, I will certainly fix that. A restore-your-growth potion and a healthy living for the summer will do.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Famous all over the world for the way Voldemortfailed in killing him and lost his powers on the way. Harry lost his parents, a

nd for that, I feel sorry even though I wasn't particularly fond of his parents.No child should have to endure that C I should know.

But the saddest thing is how the family given to him has treated him. Locked away, shouted at, being called an anomaly. And from what I saw last summer, he seem


8/41

s to view that as normal.

He's so pale. Almost sickly so. But then again, who wouldn't be after enduring what he has endured all his life. I would be C if I hadn't inherited the would-be golden skin (if I had more sun that is) from my mother. Instead, I'm pale yellow. It's strange that we're so alike in many ways, yet I haven't realized it until now.

Oh, crap. There's the bloody ravine. One would've thought I would've gotten usedto the abrupt turn by now and not almost crash right into the mountainside ever

y time I go home by now. But no. Severus Snape, potions teacher and ex-chaser inSlytherin's Quidditch team always just manage to stay clear of a solid, 700 fee

t tall cliffside. In addition, as I look back at Harry, I can see he neatly stayed clear of it and is looking like he is trying to conceal his amusement. It isn't working.

Deciding that this is a time as good as another to start the process to gain Harry's trust, I let myself crack, smiling for the first time in years, chuckling softly for the first time in over a decade. And as Harry sees I seem to not care

much about it, he lets a small smile out. It's certainly not much, but it's a beginning. It has to be the first time either of us is at ease with each other.

However, it is getting dark, and even though I would prefer to use the slight opening I've gained, we sure don't have time to hover by the beginning of the ravine leading to my home and smile all evening. Therefore, I start to move again, still smiling slightly. And when Harry follows, I can sense that my little mishap

gained me my first few feet of ground.

My 'cottage', a simple two-story house in a solitary part of Wales' Mountains, has been in my family for centuries. From the beginning, it was a simple huntingcabin now it is my home. Built in natural wood and situated by a small stream, it's a wonderful place to live if you want a peaceful and beautiful home. In thesummer, a wonderful garden with flowers in all possible colours grows around it,

scenting the air with heavenly tastes. And to be honest, I love it.

However, as we land, it's already dusk, and we can't see the beauty of the place. Besides that, both Harry and I are dead on our feet. So, I decide to just getus inside and into bed to get some sleep. Which was a wise decision judging from

the way Harry's stumbling after me, ignorant of all and everything.

Smiling slightly, I whisper a soft 'alohomora' to open the door and step into the warmth of home. And for once, I'm not overcome with pictures of the past, butfeel only concern for the very sleepy fifteen year old staggering after me.

Seeing to that he let his trunk loose, I lead him to one of the bedrooms, the one which once belonged to my beloved Alisha. He promptly falls onto the bed, asleep as soon as he touches the cover, leaving it to me to bed him down, haunted by

the memories of when I did the same thing to another child. A dark blonde little girl with the bluest eyes in the world. My daughter Alisha. The second victimby my hands in my service to Voldemort.

NextChapter Two Harry's POV

When I open my eyes, I first think I'm in heaven. An easy mistake with the moving clouds on the walls and ceiling together with the sunlight beaming into the room from behind me. That, and the fact that the floor around me consists of somesort of fluffy, soft and pleasurably warm material in white. It looks like a mist covers the floor. But then, I sit up and find that I have been lying on a bedcovered with a white down quilt, a gorgeous ferret like creature (just a lot flu


9/41

ffier with a longer tail, like some sort of angora ferret with a three feet tail) cuddled next to me. When it senses that I have moved, it squeaks and runs up my body to perch itself on my shoulder, wrapping its long tail around my thin torso.

I smile at that, and softly pet it while wondering where Snape possibly can be.Moreover, where I am. I seem to remember I made a very believable impression ofa zombie when we got here last night, and didn't see or hear anything. Flying on

a broom for almost thirteen hours tends to do that to you. Especially Snape itseems. It had been priceless seeing his expression after almost running into the

side of the ravine. He had taken it a lot better than I would've thought, evensmiling at himself. It made me loosen up more to him than words ever could havedone.

Then suddenly, I hear a knock and a door opens up in the wall opposite of me, revealing Severus, clad in worn jeans and a black tee sporting the word 'Slytherin' in silver on the chest, a sad smile on his uncharacteristically gentle expression.

"Good morning, Harry" he softly said. "I see you've met Honey."I frown. Honey? Who's Honey?

He must have seen my expression, because he chuckles and points at the creatureon my shoulder. I smile embarrassedly and look down.

"How come you have a creature like her?" I ask, still not trusting this changedSnape completely, but definitely confidant enough to express myself around him.After all, if he's all right with me smiling at him, he can't freak out becauseI'm talking to him, right?

A strange noise sounds and I look up, just in time to catch a sad and ashamed, not to mention guilty, expression flashing over Snape's face. Something is wrong.

"She belonged to me when I was a child" he finally says. "I was going to give him to my child one day, but it's impossible now."

He looks up, not quite managing to smile. The serious expression on his face isclose enough to his teacher one to make me shudder. I am right. Something is wrong. Something has happened here, something bad. I can feel it in my very bones.

"It's breakfast," Snape abruptly says. "Just tap the wall beside the door and you'll find your belongings. Please dress and come down."

I nod, still stunned by Snape's violent reaction to my innocent question, automatically reverting to silent mode again. I'm also pondering the fact he told me he couldn't give Honey to his child. Even as he's ancient for someone in my age (Sirius told me he is thirty-six, the same age as Snape) it's common knowledge that men can still produce children at that age. He should be able to give Honey to his child yet.

I decide to put the matter on the shelf for a while, mostly for the reason thatI'm really hungry. Therefore, I did what Snape asked me to do. Imagine my surprise when I find myself staring at a wardrobe filled with mugglecloths in my size.

A true novelty after only wearing Dudley's cloths for so long. Another side tothe spectrum that is Snape.

Choosing quickly, I grab a pair of jeans and a simple, emerald tee with a dragonto go with them and dress quickly. Then I open the door and step out into the r

eality. Or rather onto a balcony leading around the huge living room below. A li


10/41

ving room, which differently to what one could believe isn't decorated in silverand green, but midnight blue and white. It is inviting and light, furnished wit

h a couch with a matching, small table by an open fireplace and small groups ofcomfortable armchairs and tables scattered over the rest of the room.

Ten feet away from me, I can see a staircase leading down to it, in dark, polished wood. And as Snape told me to come down, I do as he asked. I don't want to irritate him in any way. Irritation leads to anger, and anger leads to consequences I most likely won't like. It doesn't help much though, since Snape isn't in the living room. Deciding to test the doors, I find that the closest door leads outside and so can't lead to Snape. Therefore, I test one to my right and find a spacious office. The third door I try, lead outside too, but to a beautiful inside garden. On the other side though, I can see the kitchen. With Snape inside, preparing something. So, I carefully make my way through the garden and open the door on the other side.

"Severus?" I question, remembering his plea for me to use his given name this summer.

He jumps slightly, whirling around to look at me. The expression in his face shows surprise and not so little confusion.

"And why, Harry, did you come that way" he asks, an amused look now in his face"when there's a staircase leading here?"

Apparently, he's in a good mood again. I look questioningly at him. I didn't seeany staircase leading to the kitchen. Snape sighs and turns to the stove to eas

e the pan off the plate as its contents started to burn. While he does that, a little whirlwind of fur come from nowhere, running up my body. Surprised, I let out a small cry, making Snape jump for the second time this day. But when he turns around, he's smiling.

"There's no use leaving her alone" he tells me, a soft, quiet laughter in his voice. "She'll just find you again. And when it comes to the staircase, you'll have to call out the name of the area you want to descend to. This house is built in two parts, with no inside connection between the two of them, you see. Hence a

magic staircase to keep them connected."

I nod foolishly. I should have seen that a wizard lives in a wizard's cottage. Of course the staircase can move.

"But you couldn't know that" Snape continues to my surprise.

He seems to have seen the face I made, because he smirks at me, but not in the w

ay he used to. This smirk is more, harmless. You couldn't help but see he don'tmean anything with it. Then he gestures to my left, making me aware of the tablelittered with food.

"Breakfast" he says, grinning slightly. "And if you eat enough, you'll get to ask all those questions I can see you want to ask."

Needless to say, I dive onto the table. As I am both hungry and curious about this whole situation, this is great. Snape follows me too, but not as quickly. Hesits down across of me, watching while I eat and sipping on some strange liquid,

which is neither tea nor coffee.

It's easily the strangest breakfast I've ever eaten. Meat, bread and butter weremixed with carrots, salad and apples, making up a very balanced meal if I ever

got the human body's need for nutrition down right. If I hadn't eaten it, I would never even have guessed that Snape knew how to eat healthy. But I can't eat fo


11/41

r all eternity, and when I finally put down my glass, Severus gives me a slightly amused grin, one of the things that make these two days so strange.

"A promise is a promise," he says. "Ask away, Harry."

I smile nervously. Even though I'm not sure about this new Snape, I want, no need answers.

"Well," I say, hesitant to ask. "Why are you so nice to me? I mean "

I trail off. Snape sighs and put down his cup to look me squarely in the eyes.

"To do that, boy, to answer that question" he seriously says "I have to bring upsome not too nice memories for both you and me."

I silently nod.

"I think I need to know," I carefully say, trying to look less desperate than Iam.

"So do I," is his only response.

Sev's POV

It feels bizarre, sitting in my kitchen, watching a boy like Harry watching me,my old pet Honey on his shoulder. And it feels strange to smile without feelingguilty for it, to let the self I've buried deep inside as a punishment show itself. Because here in my home, the shadow of the old Severus Snape remains to watch me from the past. The Death Eater and one of Voldemort's closest men, one of the most vicious men at that time. Not to mention it feels strange being the person I am and not the shielded act I do at Hogwarts, especially together with someone like Harry.

He knows what he needs answers to, I have to give him that. But I don't know howto answer. Because when I do that, I will have to reveal things. Things that ne

ither Harry nor I want to examine closer.

"I'm an orphan, and I have been one since I was a small child."

That isn't the prelude I had planned to use. Judging from the startled look on Harry's face though, it is as good as any.

"My parents, Duncan and Zahrah Snape, died when I was six months old, or so people tell me. Apparently, they had gone to visit an old friend, Riddle, leaving me

with a babysitter. They never returned. However, differently from you, I didn'tgrow up with relatives. I grew up at an orphanage. The same orphanage that onceheld Tom Riddle. And they treated me and everyone else there, just about the sa

me way as the Dursleys treats you. Like a freak that didn't deserve to exist."

It hurt thinking about it, even as it is long past, long forgotten in history. But at the same time, it feels nice having someone to talk to. And Harry listens.

I can see it in his eyes, read it in his posture. He cares. And now, he also starts to understand.

"I think that's a big part of why I hated you. The fact that I disliked James has really nothing to do with it. It was the fact that while you was fostered by rich relatives in a beautiful house, I was fostered at a terrible orphanage withno one to love me, even though our lives had been so similar until then."

And within his eyes, I can finally see what I should have seen from the beginnin


12/41

g. Resentment over how his relatives treated him. Realization that he was no freak and that no one had the right to call him that. And last but not least, understanding of the situation, his history and me. It makes me think it was worth bringing all this pain to the surface again.

"The Dursleys didn't love me," he says suddenly, his voice tight and controlled;yet shaking with emotions. "They hated me, still hates me."

"I know" I silently reply. "Now. I finally understood that last summer when I came to fetch you. You lived in hell, not the paradise I placed you in. And that was the beginning to the change. I couldn't just leave you there, facing those appalling people. Already when I got back to Hogwarts I made a deal with Dumbledore to take care of you this summer."

"Thank you" Harry softly replies. "It means more than you know."

And I can read in his voice that he realizes what I do for him. I nod slightly,startled to find tears rolling down my cheeks, just as they do on his. With a swift movement, I move towards Harry and am met in the middle, meeting him in a wa

rm hug, so much needed for both of us. I have managed to break down another walland in this moment, nothing is between us.

His thin body feels so fragile against mine, and I am not bulky by any means. Now I know why, but he doesn't really know why I am so thin, why I steadily looseweight. But he doesn't need to know. Even if he wonders. Maybe I'll tell him some day, about my family. Not today though. I'm not ready yet. For he is not the only one with past ghosts.

Instead, I let myself relish in the hug, finding the comfort I so badly need. And in that moment, I know that I might still have a chance to have a family again. Maybe

Harry's POV

I understand why he disliked me so much now. I really do. Nevertheless, I wish Ihad known earlier, maybe then, I could've helped him, made him understand. Beca

use I feel that this is the first time, he lets himself grieve. As it is the first time, I do the same. But because of a whole other reason. This is the first time I realize I have the right to grieve.

To loose one's parents is a horrible thing. Probably even more so when you knewthem. So, in that way, both Severus and I have it easier, if you can call it that. Yet, both of us grew up under horrible circumstances. Him at the orphanage, me with the Dursleys. I would wish neither to no one.

He is thinner than I thought. But maybe it isn't so strange. I would get sick tomy stomach too if I had to meet Voldemort so often as this man do. Yet, I can s

ense there's something else behind it. Something he isn't telling me. I don't blame him for it. This revelation is only one step of many, but an important such.

I feel him hugging me closer and I do the same, wetting his shirt with my tears.Somehow, I feel close to him in a way I don't even feel with Sirius. Maybe, it

is because I've known him longer, but I don't think so. My thought is that it'srather the similarities between our upbringings. We understand how it feels growing up without love and it makes us closer.

With that, I don't mean I don't love Sirius, because I do. And I don't mean I love Severus either. I do not completely trust the man yet after all. I just meanwe understand each other in a way Sirius and I never can. But it would be even greater if Sirius could be a part of this too.


13/41

Living with the Dursleys constantly reminding me about my parents' demise, I grew accustomed to thinking that my chance at having a family was lost forever. Now, I know it's not. But I still wish Severus would tell me what's really bothering him However, this is not something I have the right to worry about yet. Because even as we are beginning to get closer, to trust each other, there's still a

long road before us. But I could come to love this man, to trust him. And I truly hope I will.Chapter Three

Sev's POV

After that genuine scene in the kitchen, I bring him outside. Moreover, if my plans go right, he will be just there the most of the summer. He needs sunlight, and that very badly. However, I do not want him to be in any danger because of that. And the home of a Death Eater isn't the least dangerous place you can hide in, even if a spell warning you of people Apparating in, flying in or flooing in,

is woven around the house. People visit, and not only when you are expecting them. Voldemort himself has been here on surprise visits.

"Harry?"

He stops in his path before me, turning around in the sunlight, a questioning look on his face.

"Yes, Severus?" he replies.

Severus. Now he calls me Severus. The first time he does so. I don't know quitewhat it will mean for our relationship, but. I would never have thought that such a small thing could make me so happy. Nevertheless, it does, filling me with a

contentment I haven't felt since the time I finally managed to betray Voldemortand turn to good again. However, I'm not sure I deserve it. Not after what I ha

ve done.

I reach into my pocket, grabbing the thin chain with a clear crystal hanging from it. When it dangles in the air, reflecting the sunlight, it looks like the most precious of diamonds. And it is precious C at least to me. It's the only thing I have left from my family, the only thing they have given me but this house and Honey.

"Wear this."

I'm surprised at the roughness my voice holds. It sounds like I'm just about tocry. But I am not, am I? This piece of rock means a lot to me, and for me, the a

ct of leaving it to another being is very serious. Nevertheless, it has to be done.

"It will protect you" I can hear my voice explain. "It looks after you, even when you doesn't want it to. Even if you don't know you're in danger. And not always in life threatening situations, but in small matters you will easily ignore. Wear it always."

I hold it out to him, surprised when he doesn't take it immediately. Instead, hescans my face, as if watching for something. Damn, this kid is too perceptive f

or his own good.

"Are you sure about this?"

His voice is soft, almost not audible, but filled with hesitation. Somehow, he has once again noticed my feelings. Because I don't think it's about lack of trus


14/41

t. Harry has always had good instincts.

"I can take care of myself," he continues. "I don't need this to stay alive."

I can't help but snort at this. Maybe he wouldn't need it facing Voldemort (he always seems to get away unscathed from him), but he would need it in every other

situation. That boy could stumble into trouble even if he is just walking downto his common room. But instead of trying to argue with him, I close the distance between us, yank him closer and hang the crystal around his neck while muttering a locking charm C and a very complicated such too.

"There" I say, true satisfaction in my voice. "Now you're caught."

His eyes widens a little, but not in panic or fright as I would've thought. I mean, if I just had a necklace put on me with an unbreakable locking spell by my nasty, ex-evil teacher turned nice, I would freak out. But Harry just showed hisindividuality by looking surprised and slightly thankful. And suddenly, I find myself shuffling his hair and smiling. I'm definitively abandoning the shield I usually carry.

Harry's POV

One month has gone by since I first arrived now, and I find myself having one ofthe best times of my life. Severus and I are beginning to really like each othe

r (still platonic, folks), finding ourselves enjoying each other's company at most times. Sometimes, he seems to have a relapse though, snapping at me. And always in reference to his past. He can see a simple article, just step into the room he gave neither or me. It's spooky. I want to help him so much, but I cannot do that, as he won't tell me. Nevertheless, the still tightening bond between usmakes me hurt too.

At first, I had problems accepting the new him, but those doubts were put asidewhen he needed help. I am not one to refuse to help anyone, even if they do notask for my help, and that day in the kitchen, he needed my help. If he admits it

or not. You don't need to be a genius to see that Severus still carries a lot of weight from his past. And you certainly don't have to look very hard to see that he thinks he deserves it.

Severus is a whole other person here in his home, compared to who he is at Hogwarts. In addition, I get the feeling it isn't just the fact that he can't make Voldemort suspicious. He don't want to be seen, he don't want to be approached. He

cloaks himself in loneliness, and thinks its just fair for him to be alone andmiserable after having done whatever horrible deeds he did as a Death Eater. I think the only ones who have managed to break through that fa?ade are Dumbledore

and I really. Nevertheless, if I can, I will help others to do the same. No oneneeds to be lonely. No one should be. Voldemort may not even have turned out theway he did, if he hadn't been forced to grow up in an orphanage. But then again

, it's not an excuse. You can make a turn for the better or be good from the beginning. Just look at Severus and me.

Once a week, approximately, he leaves by Apparating. Always after gripping his arm in blinding pain. I don't know if he knows that I know, but it's obvious he goes to Voldemort at those occasions. It's his luck I know he does it for Dumbledore, because when he gets back, he's usually shaking and completely gone. One of

the backsides to the Cruciatus curse. I make a point of waiting up for him, incompany of Honey, having a healing potion on the stove for his return. He certainly needs it. When he has drunken it, I get him into bed and hug him goodnight.Then I spend the night in a chair beside him, listening to his every breath andwaking him up every other hour to give him more of the potion.


15/41

He never talks of these nights, but I know he's thankful. After the first night,he even decided to tutor me in potions. Outside of course. He seems to have a t

hing for keeping me outside. Personally, I think he believes I'm too pale. Or was, at least. I've acquired a tan these days and not even one sunburn. That crystal he gave me sure can nag sometimes.

Today is the day after one of the nights with Voldemort. We're sitting outside in the sun, him reading while I am preparing a potion by the name of 'Calaesumbora', supposedly meant to be spilled on your skin to reveal if you've had an Unforgivable curse put on you the last two days. He hasn't told me, but I have the feeling this isn't potion making suitable for someone my age, but someone much older. Same old Severus. I can't help but smile for myself while slowly stirring the potion. He still has troubles acknowledging when I've done something right.

Then, suddenly, a bell tolls from somewhere within the house, startling Severusand sending Honey off into hiding. Severus jumps to his feet and gives me a sharp look.

"Hide" is his only word, and lead by the crystal, I run into a shrubbery, throwi

ng myself to my stomach on the ground. And in the next second, I can see two dark robed figures practically storming out of the house.

At least one of them is. The other one has a tight grasp on the first one, trying to slow him down. When they come closer, I almost jump up from sheer surprise,

but subdue myself. It is Sirius, in a black mood suiting his surname, and a much calmer Remus Lupin, who has a slightly apologetic expression on his face.

Severus is standing proudly in the middle of the flower-decorated lawn, and differently from them; he wears a white tee and a pair of slacks. It has to be saidthat he don't even flinch as Sirius grabs him by his neck, a murderous look on his face.

"Where is he?" he roars. "If you have hurt him any way "

Severus roughly takes his hands from his neck and steps backwards.

"In safety, Black" he coldly says. "Unlike what he would be with you."

Sirius' face gets even redder, and his knuckles whiten as he tries to keep frompunching the man in front of him. I tense, desperately trying to keep Sirius from flaring up more. However, I didn't need to worry, as Remus steps between them,

hindering every chance at a fistfight.

"Calm down, Sirius" he harshly says before turning to Severus, speaking in a sof

ter tone. "We just came to visit Harry. Dumbledore told us that he would be here."

Severus nods, a slight smirk on his face.

"Of course" he says, and then turns away, facing me.

Now, I can see that he has a slightly pained expression on his face, undoubtedly; one of his wounds has gone up, together with a strange sense of worry. I can't

get why though, as I know that he certainly does not fear either Sirius or Remus. Unasked, I get up, dusting some dirt off my tee and cut jeans, walking over to the three of them, grabbing the cup with the healing potion I have waiting bymy cauldron.

The expressions on Remus' and Sirius' faces are hilarious. Especially Sirius'. Did they really expect me to be beaten and tired or something? Well, I am tired,


16/41

but that's not the point, is it?

I stop as I come to Severus, silently handing him the cup. He gives me a slightsmile and a faint 'thank you', which causes some strangled noises to come from Sirius. I touch his arm in a reassuring way, and then turn to Sirius and Remus, a

bright smile on my face.

"Sirius!" I exclaim, hugging my godfather warmly.

"Harry" he affectionately replies, hugging me back.

Then he holds me at an arm's length, looking squarely at me.

"How is he" he nods towards Severus "treating you? Are you alright?"

I look at Severus, shooting him a smile. He looks much better now, talking slightly with Remus.

"Severus' treating me great" I carefully assure him. "He's been helping me with

potions."Sirius lets me go, a relieved look on his face. He has cut his hair off into a shoulder length cut now and has gained some much needed weight. In my opinion, Ithink he doesn't even look like the Sirius Black whom fled from Azkaban.

"You have resolved your issues then?" he asks.

I nod. That we certainly have. It was awkward in the beginning, but now we havereached a state where we live as family. The trust and affection is still fragile between us, but it's growing stronger every day.

"Yeah, why?" I reply.

Sirius glance at Severus and Remus, then takes me outside their hearing range.

"I think it's time you know why Severus Snape and I detest each other so much" he softly says. "You will need to know it, believe me, if you're going to spend the summer with him."

Then he smirks.

"Does he still run into that ravine when coming here?" he asks.

"Yes" I grin. "It looks hilarious. How did you know?"

Sirius sobers up, looking at me, a sad look in his dark eyes, so much like Severus'.

"My mother, was the sister of Snape's mother," he slowly says. "As we were hidden by the Fidelius Charm when my aunt and her husband died, we could not take care of Severus. That's the reason he despises me. The reason I despise him, is that he was the one who betrayed my parents by finding out who was their secret keeper. Like some sort of revenge."

I stare at him, perplexed by what he has revealed. Severus and Sirius, cousins?But somehow, it makes sense. And it sure explains, the hostility they hold against each other.

"You know he has changed" I say looking into Sirius eyes. "I know you has changed. Can't you two just see beyond the mutual loathing you created so long ago, an


17/41

d settle this? None of you could do anything about the situation back then."

"I know" Sirius says, dragging his hands through his hair in a very Severus-ishway. "But forgiveness has to go both ways."

You can see they're cousins. In some ways, they're remarkably alike.

"What?" Sirius asks, as he catches me smiling.

I shake my head, still smirking slightly.

"Severus does that all the time," I tell him.

Sirius gives me a strange look.

"You really like him now, don't you?" he frankly says. "Now when you have seen past the animosity you held against each other."

Sev's POV

That boy is an angel. I don't know how to tell him, how much I appreciate whathe does for me, after my meetings with Voldemort. Not only him watching over me

, and making the healing potion I need (I'm still wondering where he found the recipe), but also the feel of being human, he gives me through a simple hug.

I quickly swallow the pleasantly cool potion in the summer heat, feeling it running through my body, taking away the after-effects of the Cruciatus curse. He has seasoned it with mint and blueberry this time, giving it a winterish flavour.

"Severus?"

It is Remus of course. Who else would talk to me of their free will?

"Yes, Remus?"

I'm surprised, how tired my voice sounds. But then again, I am very tired. And if I am tired, I don't want to think about how tired Harry must be, after havingwatched over me all night.

"Why would you need a potion, meant to heal the after-effects from the Cruciatuscurse?"

Damn the werewolf and his knowledge of potions!

"Voldemort wasn't too pleased with me yesterday" I pleasantly reply, hoping to get a reaction out of the imperturbable Remus.

"Why?" is his only response though.

Sigh. I guess Dumbledore told him.

"Because I hadn't found out why Harry isn't with the Dursleys this year, and where he is," I simply say.

Remus just arches his eyebrows.

"That wouldn't make him too happy, no," he agrees. "Do you think Sirius is finished with Harry yet?"

I glance at the pair, standing quite a bit away, Harry having an amused look on


18/41

his face as Sirius talks. Undoubtedly, Sirius has told him about our relation. He didn't seem to have anything against it though.

"Yes" I decide and start to walk over to them, arriving just as Sirius asks Harry a question.

"You really like him now, don't you?" he says, an understanding tone to his voice. "Now when you have seen past the animosity you held against each other."

Harry has already seen me approaching, and is looking into my eyes, as if he cansee my soul.

"No, Sirius" he softly says, almost too low for me to hear.

That little word crushes me for some reason I can't understand. It feels as if asmall knife is stabbed through my heart, causing an allergic reaction. But then

, he continued.

"I love him like a dad. He may not be my father, but in these weeks, he has been

my dad in every way possible."NextChapter Four

Harry's POV

Now I know what the word 'scared' means. Not 'frightened' or 'petrified', but 'scared'. As in the lesser component in fear. And I can't say I like it very much.

I can't believe I just burst it out. I mean, I just said it right out, 'I loveyou like my dad, Severus'. Not exactly in those words, but the essence was the same.

A few hours have gone by since then, but we haven't gotten the chance to talk since then, as Sirius and Remus are still here. They are in the library for the moment, talking with Severus. Probably about Voldemort or something else they think I shouldn't hear about. But I'm fifteen darn it, soon sixteen. I won't die because I heard the word 'kill'. But do they listen to me? No.

So here I am, sitting in the cloud room, which is mine, reading a book Severus recommended me. 'The potions of Karol Mikerskij'. It lists a bunch of really weird potions you can make from very simple and common ingredients. And despite what

one may think, it's actually interesting. I think I will test one at Malfoy when I have arrived back at Hogwarts, maybe the one that makes your skin glow witha sickish green colour. It could be fun to see his reaction.

Suddenly, I hear the faint sound of bells, signalling that Remus and Sirius haveApparated away. Driven by an urge to stall the talk with Severus I know is comi

ng, I dive under the covers and start pretending to be asleep. Not far afterwards, Severus opens the door and looks at me.

"Harry?" he whispers. "You're awake?"

Trying to breath easily, I neglect to answer. Severus sighs and patters into theroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Strangely gently, he pushes my bangsout of my face, lingering on my cheek.

"What shall I do with you, Harry?" he whispers dejectedly. "I can't be a dad foranyone, I don't deserve it. Especially not to you. You're the Boy Who Lived, yo

u deserve someone better than I."


19/41

A faint whisper suggests that he shakes his head, and then the weight next to mediminishes as he raises and walks back to the door. But before he closes it beh

ind him, he utters one more sentence, the one I so badly want to hear.

"I love you too, Harry," he whispers. "And I truly wish that you were my son."

Sev's POV

It is well past midnight, and I still sit in my living room, watching the flamesplay in the open fire. My mind still can't get off that wave of bliss it's ridi

ng, hearing that Harry loves me and him calling me 'dad'. A word I thought no one would say to me after that fateful day seventeen years ago. And I sure as hell

don't deserve it. Not after what I did.

A log falls down, drowning the sound of bare feet on the floor. So, I am surprised when a warm hand, rough from the work it has been forced to do in such a young age, is placed on my shoulder.

"Want to talk about it?"

He knows. But how can he? No one but Dumbledore knows, and he won't betray my trust like this. I must have looked nervous, because Harry hugs me from behind, sliding down next to me in the white couch.

"No one has told me" he softly assures me. "But I can sense there's something you're not telling me. Something important, something you feel strongly about. Your eyes get so guilty, so ashamed sometimes, so burdened with sorrow."

This adolescent is really smart. There's no use denying it. There's no use not telling him. He has to know, he has the right to know.

"It all began seventeen years ago."

My voice seems lifeless to me, unemotional. But I certainly don't feel that way.It hurt talking, hurt thinking. I don't want to.

"Four years after graduation, I had married another witch from Beauxbaton, NiamhLind. The most beautiful blonde with the sunniest smile on earth. We had two ch

ildren together, four year old Alisha with the blue eyes and a baby boy, Donal.We lived together in just this cottage, and we were happy. Niamh wrote books about gardening here at home, and I had a well-paid job at Hogwarts, teaching DADA.

But then, everything changed.

"I guess you can say I fell into the wrong crowd, but that wouldn't be completel

y true. Instead, I would rather say that I was curious about Voldemort, who wasa great wizard according to my good friend Lucius, the potions teacher. Becauseat that time, I didn't know that Tom Riddle and Voldemort was the same man.

"I was young then, I was power hungry as most are at that age. So I couldn't seeanything wrong in wanting to be one of Voldemort's accomplices. And it was duri

ng this time, I told Lucius that I knew who was Sirius Black's and his parents'secret keeper. Because I knew Voldemort wanted to get a hold of them C or as Iknow nowC kill them. That information became my ticket into Voldemort's closest

circle.

"I became a Death Eater. Seduced by the power Voldemort had shown me, I didn't want anything but it. I stopped caring about other people, about my family. My wife was a 'mudblood' after all, a 'weak' wizard. But I allowed her to live; she had bore me children after all.


20/41

"That peace was shattered the day I came home to find the wife of an Auror, Arabella Figg, talking to my wife. I freaked out, killing my wife with the Avada Kedavra. Then I placed the Cruciatus curse on my daughter who'd been with me and turned to take care of Figg. But she had evidently grabbed my baby and disappeared, because she was gone. In rage, I increased the strength of the curse until blood poured out of her. She died shortly after that, her last words being 'daddy'.

But I didn't care. I just left the bodies where they were, and went back to mylord.

"My service with him didn't end until he one day confided in me that his name once had been Tom Riddle. I managed to keep my fa?ade up, but as soon as I was out

of there, I broke down, Apparated to the only father's figure I've ever had, Dumbledore, and told him everything."

I know my face is stony, I know it seems like I don't feel anything about it. But still, I am very much aware of the fact that Harry has grasped my hand, lending me the strength I need to finish my tale. And inside, I am a hurricane of feelings. Guilt, shame, self-blaming, hate. I can't let them out; I've kept them inside for so long. It's like I have been petrified emotionally, like I can feel bu

t not show."You're not the person you were then, Severus"

His voice managed to penetrate my misted in brain.

"And who you were before you met Voldemort, isn't whom you were when you saw your family for the last time."

I know he means well, but his words do not help. He don't know how it feels to have killed your family, killed them and taken pleasure it.

"I understand that you really can't take this right now. I know you believe thatthis is something you can't be forgiven."

Damn right I can't!

"But then again, you are pigheaded. Yes, it was you who killed your wife and tortured your daughter to death. Yes, it is your fault. But only a minor part of you. When you did that deed, you 'were seduced by the dark powers'. The dark artsare poisonous, you know. If you haven't got a truly strong mind, they will slowly take you over. Submitting you to their will."

How does this boy know so much? Because I know no one has told him. Yet, somehow, he takes what I'm feeling inside, grinding it into dust, and shredding it into

pieces small enough to live with."You are still responsible for what you did in the matter that you chose to join

Voldemort. You chose to submit into the dark side of magic. But you can't be made responsible for killing your family intentionally. You had as much to say about the matter as one under the Imperius curse."

How can he know this? I can't just stop asking myself this question as he slowly, piece by piece, takes apart my defence. He is almost sixteen, yet emotionallyhe is much older. Older than me, maybe even Dumbledore.

"I do understand the guilt you're feeling won't leave you alone. I can see thatyou want to make up for what you have done under Voldemort's influence. But youand I both know that you will never really get away from that guilt. But you can, and you will learn how to live with it, and do the best with the life you have

created for yourself after cutting your bonds with Voldemort. Your past is no r


21/41

eason to push people who care for you away. You can make amends by letting thosewho wants to love you in, so making them content by being content."

I turn to him, staring at him. Now, I can see the tears falling down his cheeks;hear the desperate tone in his voice, begging me to see what he is trying to sh

ow me. That he is shaking, fighting for a family which has been promised him these last weeks. Consciously on my part. And frankly, I can't stand seeing anyonego through the hell I did.

Gently, I draw him into my embrace as he cries. Harry Potter may be the Boy WhoLived, but he's also a human being. He may be more adult than most, but he's also a very young orphan. But somehow, I think many people forget to see this fact.

Instead, they only choose to see the smart, strong boy who has the ability to fight Voldemort and even defeat him. They neglect to see the human with feelingsbehind.

In some ways, we are just too much alike. But where his choices are chosen for him, I did mine by myself. As I absently stroke his messy hair, I can't help butthink about what he has been telling me. He is right of course, which he almost

always has, and I will try to put my past behind me, yet learn from it. It won'tbe easy, but I will try, for him, but mostly for me. We both need closure in our lives, and I think we are the right persons to give it to each other.

Harry's POV

I can't describe the feeling of having a pair of comforting arms around you after being without it for fifteen long years. It's simply heaven, to be held, to be

comforted when you haven't had anyone but your fugitive godfather to be there for you before. Even if it is mutual this time. I think Severus needs this just as much I do.

My mind wanders as we sit together, me hugged to his chest, staring into the fire, letting ourselves comfort and be comforted. And for some reason, I keep coming back to one little part of the story he told me.

"Severus?" I softly ask.

He grunts in response, tightening his hold on me.

"What happened with your son? I mean, that lady took him away, didn't she?"

Severus nods behind me, tensing up slightly.

"Arabella Figg" he says. "When I had turned my back on Voldemort, I tried to fin

d him, but failed. Arabella Figg had disappeared off the face of the earth, andwith her, my son. I gave up hope of seeing him a long time ago now."

I frown. I know that name. A Mrs Figg used to watch me when I lived with the Dursleys. What if Arabella Figg and Mrs Figg is the same person? My thoughts are interrupted as Severus hesitantly starts to talk to me.

"About what you said before "

He trails off, seemingly uncertain about the whole thing. I smile a little, deciding to help him onto the right track.

"That I love you and would love to call you my dad'?"

I'm pretty sure he blushed. Or at least it felt that way.


22/41

"Yes" he insecurely says. "It would be nice if I mean "

I turn around and give him my best smirk.

"Just spit it out already" I tease. "You won't die of it."

Severus laughs and shakes his head.

"Why should I do that when you already know what I'm going to say?" he teases right back.

I pout, hitting him on his shoulder. He gave me a sour look.

"If that's what you want "

I glare at him.

"Stop teasing me!" I complain.

Severus smirks back at me."You started it" he points out, then gets serious. "Potter, I would be proud tocall you my son."

I smile back.

"Well, I would be proud to be called you son" I reply, and then give him a mischievous smile. "Sev."Chapter Five

Harry's POV

I can't stop thinking about it. Even though I am dead tired after being up withSev these two last nights, I can't sleep. And it is all because what he said tome. Arabella Figg C Mrs. Figg. Donal, his son whom was lost as a baby. Giving up hope, disappearing off the face of the earth. And hadn't Mrs Figg once mentioned that she had an adopted son?

As I feel the sun rise, I give up on my much-needed sleep. Knowing that Sev is alight sleeper, I can't stay in my room, so I silently sneak out of it, inching

past Sev's door. He needs his sleep even if I can't get mine.

When I get to the staircase, I whisper 'the living room' and do what I learnt how to do after the first days here if I didn't want to be heard by everyone withi

n a three miles circumference due to the very loud creaks C slide down the banisters. This way, I get to the bottom floor relatively silently and sneak away into Sev's office. I know he has an owl here, in case he has to send letters (Hedwig I left at Hogwarts when I thought I was going to the Dursleys) and I had decided to send Mrs Figg a letter. If she is the Figg Sev talked about, she will know what to do with the owl. If not, well, nothing's lost here.

I sit down by Sev's desk and look around for parchment and a quill. As the neatfreak he is with his work, he has hidden it away somewhere. After some snoopingaround, I manage to find what I need put away on a shelf behind a silver green drape on the wall. Sigh. One would think he would've stored it on the desk, close

to use, but no. He puts it in on a shelf behind a drape.

Still a little annoyed, I sit down and start to brush off my best letter writingskills.


23/41

"Mrs Arabella Figg!

It has come to my attention that you held an important part in an event many years ago. As this event concerns a dear friend of mine, I write to ask of you a meeting to discuss this event. I would greatly appreciate if you could take some of your precious time to send a response to me by owl at your earliest convenience.

Most reverent, Harry Potter."

I stare at the letter. Not the best ever written, but it would have to do. Nervously, I stare at the huge eagle owl sitting at its perch, watching me unnervingly.

"Can you take this to Mrs Figg at Privet Drive in Surrey?" I ask, not sure whatto expect from the unusually big bird.

But it seems to be non-violent, because it just chirps and hold out its leg forme. I exhale, relieved, and attach the letter. Then I silently watch as the owl

flies away, only to be attacked by a very noisy little Honey."Calm down!" I whisper furiously at her. "Sev's asleep you know!"

"Not anymore."

I whirl around, finding myself eye to eye with a bleary-eyed, very annoyed Severus Snape.

"Sev!" I exclaim. "You're awake!"

"How clever of you to notice the obvious" his voice is still sarcastic, but hisface softened remarkably at the name 'Sev'. "Now, may I ask why you're still up?"

I hang my head.

"I can't sleep," I admit. "So much has happened today. I decided to just write Ron to get my mind cleared up."

Sev smiles at me and put his arm around my free shoulder.

"Then let's try now" he says. "Because I'm sure you are tired. I know I am. If you still can't sleep, you should know how to make a sleeping potion by now."

I nod and let my newly acquired dad lead me up the stairs to my room. Because Iknow I will sleep now when I've done what I can to find Donal.

The owl arrives three days later when I am busy picking herbs for my potions inthe forest. It is a small tawny owl and so, the bright red parchment it carriesstands out well. Landing on my shoulder, it nips my ear as it waits for me to take my letter.

Obeying, I put down my basket and unattach it, intending to seat myself on a nearby sunny stone, but the crystal Sev gave me immediately starts to tell me to look out for vipers. Apparently, he has forgotten to tell it I'm a parselmouth. So, mostly to get it to stop talking, I hiss to any potential snake to keep away.Then I open my letter.

"Harry!


24/41

Why so formal? I've known you since you were a toddler after all. You sound likesome old buffer who went to Oxford or something. Write normally the next time.

About your friend, of course we can meet. Just write and tell me where to find you and I'll Apparate there within an hour. My owl Copper here is bred especially

for fast delivery.

Mrs Figg (Arabella)"

I've gotten the right lady. No use of denying that. Arabella Figg has always been very frank. Scribbling down my answer with a conveniently attached quill, I send Copper away again, then resume my herb collecting, keeping close to the ruins

Sev calls 'the Gingerbread House', as it were the location I had given her.

I am just carefully digging up the roots of some sort of orchid when I hear a well-known voice calling my name.

"Harry, where are you?"

I look up in the general direction of the ruins, but can't see her because of the great pine next to me.

"I'm here, behind the big pine!" I yell back as I reach for the brush I use to get rid of the dirt.

Soon, I hear soft steps coming towards me, and within minutes, I can see the slim and fitted Mrs Figg weave her way towards me through the thick vegetation. I look up briefly from my work and smile at her.

"I'll just finish this," I tell her.

Mrs Figg grins at me, studying the herbs I have already collected.

"What in the world are you making?" she wonderingly asks. "I can't remember making any potion with these herbs ever in school."

"You shouldn't have" I reply, carefully picking the thin threads off the main root to the newly picked orchid. "I think it's advanced extra study for 7th years.

I'm not sure though, Sev just gives me the recipe, goes over it with me and then leaves me to be. This one's supposed to heal you C not like the normal healing potions though, but by mixing with your blood stream, speeding up your heart for a few seconds and heal all damaged tissue it passes by congealing and becoming a part of your body. It's just specifically for damage made by extensive amounts of the Cruciatus. This is the first time I've picked the ingredients myself,

but I've done the potion so many times I can do it blindfolded."Mrs Figg is staring at me, a pensive look on her face.

"You're living with Severus," she states.

I rise after putting down my root in the basket and look squarely at her.

"Yes" I calmly admit. "He told me of his life. From that, you should see the reason you're here by yourself."

Mrs Figg sighs and sits down on a stone, a very weary look on her face.

"Donal" she simply says. "You know where I was, differently from Severus."

I nod.


25/41

"Why didn't you answer his owls?" I gently wonder, sitting down in the sun-driedmoss, looking at her.

She shook her head.

"I wasn't sure about which side he belonged to," she slowly says. "Sure, I heardrumours that he was now a spy for our side from my good friend Minerva McGonaga

ll, but I had no way of making sure of it. And I won't leave Donal with a DeathEater. As I haven't been able to keep updated with the wizard's world."

It is explainable. Knowing the inhabitants of Privet Drive, it isn't hard to seethat she wouldn't have been trusted the way she had if owls had been circling h

er house every day.

"How can I convince you?" I simply say.

The old lady shakes her head.

"No need to "she tells me. "I know Dumbledore wouldn't trust you to anyone questionable in any way."

I smile inwardly at that. That sentence certainly is wrong in some ways. The Dursleys isn't exactly what you would call an exemplary foster family. If you weren't a supporter of slavery of course.

"Does he know about his father?"

A very important question. I, if anyone, should know that. And Mrs Figg nods.

"I've told him everything," she admits. "And even though he can't remember Severus, he wants to meet the man who fathered him so he can have a chance to be with

his birth family. He seems to understand that the Severus who murdered his mother and sister wasn't really his father. He is far trustier than I am, already when Severus started teaching again, he wanted to meet him. I held him back though."

Maybe if she hadn't, a lot would've been different now. But then again, maybe not for good. You shall not play with history. One of the main things I've learned

about tampering with time.

"He's eighteen now, isn't he?" I casually ask, even if I am terribly curious about the boy Sev had fathered. "Is he a wizard, has he gone to any wizard school?"

Mrs Figg chuckles at my sudden outburst of questions."Yes, he's eighteen" she tells me. "And he graduated from Durmstrang this spring."

I raise my eyebrows. Durmstrang? The poor guy had to be half frozen to death. But then again, Durmstrang is famous for its successful DADA teaching (or rather the opposite) and it is understandable as his father had been a Death Eater.

"That's good," I simply say. "He should know how to take care of himself that way."

I move to take my basket.

"Do I have your blessing then, to speak with Donal about reuniting with his father?"


26/41

Mrs Figg seems to be taken with my sudden use of formal language but ignore it.

"Of course, Harry" she says. "If you can floo to my house tomorrow, I'll see toyou meet."

I nod and start to walk towards my summer home.

"See you tomorrow then"

I talk to Sev this evening about it. Or rather I ask for permission to visit a wizard friend the next day over a magically created and disgustingly healthy dinner. I swear, Sev's trying to turn me into some athlete with all the health food,

outdoors exercise and Quidditch training he's been giving me since I arrived.

Anyway, Sev gives his permission. I mean, why wouldn't he? Especially as he hasto go to another meeting with Voldemort too. Now, that part, I don't like. It is

tearing me up inside having to watch him return from those meetings with Voldemort as a wreck. Suddenly, I am very thankful that I have been out picking the in

gredients for his healing potion.Next morning, I can't help myself, but hug him before he leaves for the meeting.

Because I know how hard this is for him. Especially as I've heard his story. So, I take my time to spend time with him before he leaves, trying to lend him some of my strength.

I'm standing by the open fire, groping around in the urn on the shelf next to the fire for some floo powder. Then I throw it into the fire, watching the flamesflicker and change colour. And so, after taking a calming breath, I step into the fire.

"Arabella Figg's home, Privet Drive!" I call out as clearly as I can.

So, the nauseating and very bumpy ride begins. I close my eyes and try to thinkabout something else. I truly hate travelling this way. Hate it, hate it, hate it The floo powder kicks me out of the network, making me stumble into the catsmelling living room of Mrs Arabella Figg. And so, I find myself eye to eye to a

tall, black-haired and green-eyed adolescent waiting for me on the couch. He doesn't look a bit like me though. His hair is longer, his eyes paler and his skin

more golden. Then, there is the fact that he isn't as skinny as I am (even as the diet Sev has put me on is starting to show some results, I think). He ratherlooked like his father.

"Harry Potter"

His voice is not like Sev's though. It's more melodic. He doesn't hold the sameability to speak quietly and yet being heard through the highest screams his father has. Well, I have it too. Mainly because I'm a parselmouth. Snakes can't scream after all. They hiss.

"It's great to finally meet you"

He's smiling mischievously at me. And he's not staring at my scar. Which I'm very thankful for.

"Thank you" I smile back. "You must be Donal."

"Yes" Donal replies, a confused look on his face. "And thank you for what?"

That made me grin. It is hard for people to understand how it feels having every


27/41

one staring at you all the time.

"For not staring" I clarify. "It's very annoying. I can't see why everyone's trying to idolize me because of something I didn't even rule over."

He shrugs and grins.

"You're welcome then" he grins. "And I can see you point. Personally, I'm more impressed of how you manage to take everything life throws at you without getting

snotty. And by the way you handle a broom. I saw you at the Triwizard's Championships. Viktor actually said you're as talented as he, maybe more."

I frown.

"Krum's one of your friends?" I ask. "He has to be one or two years older than you."

Donal nods.

"Yes" he answers. "I'm in the Quidditch team as well."Quidditch. There's a word for sore eyes.

"Which position?" I curiously ask.

"Beater" he answers with a grin just as infatuated as mine. "I've been in the team since I was twelve."

"Eleven" I tell him. "Our deputy headmistress McGonagall caught me as I fetcheda sphere a rival of mine, Draco Malfoy, had thrown away after taking it from a friend of mine on our first flying lesson."

Donal raise his eyebrows.

"You're lucky" he comments.

I shiver.

"I would rather not be," I tell him. "Maybe then, I'd stop running into troubleall the time."

Then I get serious.

"Maybe we should talk about what I came for now" I grimly suggests. "I have to b

e back in a few hours to start preparing a potion."Donal nods, and I am very thankful for him not asking why I have to prepare a potion. I certainly shouldn't be the one to tell him about that. And as he leads me through the house to something I suspect is his rooms, I ponder where to start.Chapter Six

Harry's POV

We find ourselves seated in his bedroom, Donal in an armchair, with me on the bed. A silence has settled in the room, as neither of us knows how to start. How do I breech the subject of reuniting with a father he has never known and whom killed and tortured his mother and sister anyway?

"You know my father" Donal finally starts, curiosity tinting his voice. "And bef


28/41

ore you ask, I know about what he did. I understand that he isn't the person hewas when he did those things. Though I have to admit it's is easier to accept, as I've never known my mother or sister. What I want to know is: what's he like now?"

I look seriously at him. It is a hard question for someone who has seen both hisbad and good sides intimately. But I will try to answer that, even as it's hardto find words to describe someone like Sev.

"He's intelligent" I slowly start. "Extremely so. He can see through every lie you can think of, sense if something is wrong. Lethal in both mind and temper. On

the outside, he's sarcastic, cool, and ruthless and he can be surprisingly nasty to the ones he holds grudges against. And that, he can do for a long time, even long after the person in question are dead. Amongst the dead, my father. Amongst the living, not long ago, myself.

"This is part of his personality, but he also has another side he never shows anyone, a side he tries to deny. Because inside, he's human. He can be both scared

and nervous, even if he's imperturbable for those looking at him. He's loyal to

the end if you are loyal to him. Quick minded, careful and silent, he prefers to watch and protect from afar, and keep out of the spotlight, even if he deserves it. This is mostly because of the shame he holds inside for having been a Death Eater. All the self-hatred, all the disgust. It's only recently, he's begun to

come to terms with it at all."

I do not mention the talk I had with him about that. It's too precious, too personal for me to share, even with his son by blood. Donal's listening to me though, I can see it. He's practically soaking up my every word. The way I do when someone talks about my parents. The only difference is that his father is alive and

mine are not.

A silent tear fall from my eye. I don't think Donal noticed it though. And for that, I'm happy. I have never really grieved over my parents; let myself accept their absence. Because even as I have two father figures now, in my godfather, in

Sev, no one can really take a parent's place. I may not have known them, but Istill love them. Just as I love Sirius and Sev.

Too keep from starting to cry, I start talking again.

"We have made our peace offerings now" I say, my voice thick and heavy under thepressure of my tears. "I have had the privilege to meet the Sev who once was. Ahumorous, kind and patient man who's a very good cook (AU: don't you dare laugh

) and adores his work as a potions teacher, even as he can't help but yearn forthe position which was once his."

I will say it now, even though I'm starting to realize what this will mean to our relationship. But I'm doing it for Sev, my 'dad'. For Donal, his son.

"You should meet him," I softly say. "I think you will like each other. And he will be very happy to see you, Donal. He spent years searching for you."

Donal has tears in his eyes, and I can see that he yearns to meet the only parent he has left.

"I want to meet my father," he chokingly says. "As soon as possible. I've wantedto do that for a long time, and now when I'm finally able to "

I understand the feeling all too well. The tears are becoming stronger now, I have to get away.


29/41

"Come to the cottage tomorrow afternoon" I suggest. "He'll be there then."

And he'll recover from the meeting. Donal nods and follows me back to the fireplace. We don't say a word and as I'm once again whirling through the floo network, I let the tears loose, feeling them stream down my cheeks. As I crash into the

living room, I don't even bother to try keep my legs upright, but collapse on the floor. I just curl into a ball letting the pain get the best of me. The painof never knowing my parents, the pain of having my first father's figure on therun. The pain coming from the fear of loosing my second to his real son. And why

wouldn't I? Any family I've ever had has either been lost to me or never was afamily at all.

Honey has found me now and is trying to console me by cuddling her soft, furry body to mine. It's not helping much, but I'm thankful for the company as the pain

I'm feeling just wreaks havoc inside. But even pain has an end. As I sit up, stroking Honey absently while the crystal nags about how I should go to bed and sleep, I glance at the clock Sev has in his living room la Muggles. I have to begin making the potion now. Emotional pain is nothing to the pain coming from the word 'crucio'. Even as Donal will probably be the one to make the potion in th

e future, I will not let Sev hurt now. I will do my best for him the time I haveleft until Donal arrive.

Some time during my crying fit, I have decided what to do. I will make it easierfor both Sev and me by leaving as he meets Donal. Sirius will welcome me if I c

ome to visit for the rest of the summer, I know that. And this way, no one but me will be hurt. Next summer, I'll go back to the Dursleys, and I will be forever

thankful for the summer I had.

I'm almost asleep when Sev arrives, potion next to me, ready and flavoured withstrawberry and raspberry. But as soon as he Apparates into the room, I jerk awake and walk over to him. This time, Voldemort seems to have gone easy at him, hewill not need more than one cup of the potion. He's even fit enough to stand onhis own as I greet him with a hug and the potion. But something is different and

I can feel his eyes watching me all the time.

When we're finally upstairs, I get to know why, as he follows me into my room and look at me as I scramble under the covers. Then he sits down on the edge and look into my eyes with his expressive black ones.

"I can see that you've been crying," he simply says.

Oh no. I haven't thought of that. Stop looking at me like that. If he continuesdoing this, I know I'm going

beyond the heart

Documents