Miserable, and sure he was in for some serious trouble now, Harry sank to the floor and clutched his knees to his chest. He suddenly had to pee really, really bad, but he wasn't allowed to go anywhere, so he held it in like he had to do sometimes when he'd been in the cupboard. It made his stomach cramp, but he ignored that pain, too. From his vantage point, he could see under the small table next to the bed, and under the bed itself, and he noticed it was dusty. Not terrible, but more than Aunt Petunia would have allowed. He climbed to his feet again, and looked around the room for the first time, having to squint like before he got his glasses.
A wardrobe like Dudley had was on one wall, and there was a small fireplace on the wall opposite the door that probably led to the hallway. There were some clean cloths on the little table next to the enormous bed, and he picked one up. He'd just wriggled his way under the bed to catch up as much dust as he could when the door opened behind him.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
Harry jerked up so fast that he smacked his head on the underside of the bed. He tried to scoot back quick, but not fast enough, it seemed, because next thing he knew, his legs had been grabbed, and he was hauled out from under the bed. Master Snape set him on his feet, and Harry clutched the cloth to his chest like a shield.
On trembling legs, he gazed at the floor. "I'm sorry, Master Snape, sir. I wasn't fast enough."
Silence met his declaration, and Harry chanced a peek at the man through his bangs. Master Snape was wearing a dark blue dressing gown that came almost all the way to his feet, and his hair looked slept on. Oh, no. Dappin had woken him up. He knew he was in for it now. But he couldn't show fear, and he couldn't cry. He knew that would just make it worse. So he steeled himself, but bit his lip, the only outward show of his nervousness. His gaze rested on the floor once more.
"Fast enough for what?" Master Snape asked, and his voice was very quiet. Not as gentle as it had been when he was making Harry drink the potion, but much quieter than shouting.
"With cleaning, sir." He swallowed. "I wasn't sure where to start."
Silence again, and Harry braced himself for the blow he knew was coming. But it was a long, long wait, and finally his muscles were practically vibrating due to tension, and he had to relax them. Maybe that's what he was waiting for?
But all he said was, "You shouldn't be out of bed, Harry. You're still recovering. Do you want me to help you up?"
"Sir?" He glanced up, and Master Snape was staring down at him, with a hard to read expression. Then Harry looked at the bed. It was kind of tall, but he could get up there on his own. "No sir. Thank you, Master Snape, sir."
"Go on then," the man said, and Harry clambered up on the bed, and even, after Master Snape gave him another look, went under the covers. Master Snape sat on the edge of the bed, then turned away for a moment. When he turned back to Harry, he had a glass of milk in his hand. Harry was surprised -- where had the glass come from? -- but he didn't reach out for it until Master Snape had taken a sip first.
"Drink it down, there's a good boy."
Harry's hands were not shaking as much this time, and he could hold the glass much better. Master Snape let him hold it by himself most of the way, after the first few sips made it lighter and easier to manage. When he was done, and feeling almost giddy with the idea of having milk two days in a row, he handed back the glass. His stomach tightened, and he remembered he had to pee. "Thank you, Master Snape, sir."
That odd look was back in his eyes. "Harry, you don't need to call me Master Snape. You are not a house elf."
Sucking in a quick breath, Harry shook his head. He wasn't good enough. He hadn't cleaned fast enough, and now Master Snape would send him away. "I'm sorry," he pleaded. "I can do better, I promise! Please let me stay!"
"What? No, Harry, you're not going anywhere. This is your home now, but you don't need to clean anything. You're not a house elf. You're . . . " Master Snape sighed, and looked at his own hands, before he lifted his gaze to meet Harry's. "You're going to be my son."
Confused, Harry frowned at him, not sure what he'd heard was right. "But I . . . my father's dead, sir. He died in a car accident. Mum, too."
Something dangerous flashed in Master Snape's eyes. "Who told you that?"
"M-m-my Uncle Vernon, sir." He swallowed again. "And Aunt Petunia. Th-th-they said they were freaks and g-got what they d-deserved."
"Well, they lied!" Master Snape rose from the bed and paced the length of the room. Harry watched him steadily, not knowing for certain what he'd done this time, but expecting the consequences nonetheless.
"Car accident," Master Snape muttered. "As if they could be killed in so Mugglish a fashion. I'll car accident them."
Harry sat quite still while Master Snape ranted, and waited. He was very used to waiting. Finally, the man ran himself out, and turned back to the bed. He waved a hand as if banishing his words, and strode to Harry's side. "Well?"
"Sir?"
"Do you consent to becoming my son? It's an adoption ceremony, to take place tomorrow if you're amenable. If not . . ."
"I'm sorry, sir, I don't . . . what's amen bowl mean?"
A small twitch of a smile ghosted over Master Snape's lips. "Amenable," he said slowly. "It means, do you want to stay here with me? Or would you rather go back to your aunt and uncle?"
A bright bubble of feeling swelled in his chest. "Oh, I'll stay, sir! Please! But how'll I earn my keep?"
Master's Snape's face smoothed out and he looked younger, more relaxed. "There's no question of earning anything. As my son, you will be given what you need, and though I will expect you to be obedient and polite, I will not have you call me Master."
"But . . ." What would he call him then?
Master Snape must have read the question in his eyes, because he said quietly, "If you like, you may call me Father."
TBC
Next chapter: Snape and Harry get to know each other a little better before and after the ceremony.
A/N: I've finished Deathly Hallows, and I very much liked it. Both my stories are now irredeemably AU, obviously, but I can live with that. Next chapter will be done in a day or two.
*Chapter 9*: Chapter 9
Whelp -- Chapter 9
By jharad17
A/N at end
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I make no money from this. The characters belong to J. K. Rowling. I only borrow them for a brief while.
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"Is that all right?" Severus asked the boy. Harry was so quiet, and his face so shuttered off, that Severus wasn't sure. "Do you want to call me Father?"
"I . . . I never . . ." Giving it up, Harry shrugged a little, then gave him a look of horror. "Sorry, sir!"
Concerned, Severus leaned forward, but did not move to touch the boy. He was still berating himself for taking such a harsh tone when he'd first seen the child scrabbling around under the bed, getting who knew what germs and dirt into recently healed lungs. "For what?"
"Shrugging, sir. Shrugging's not allowed."
"One of the rules at your old home?"
The boy looked miserable, and was refusing to meet his eyes. "Yes, sir."
Severus sighed. "I won't hit you if you shrug, but I don't care for it either. It's the sign of a weak mind. You should be able to form proper thoughts and voice them, not rely on such a primitive mode of communication."
"Yes, sir."
Suppressing another sigh, Severus forbore to correct the constant two word answer. It was obvious the boy was uncomfortable, and it would take some time before he realized he was not going to be punished here as he had with his relatives. Not that Severus would let him get away with disrespect, impertinence or vandalous behavior; he did not intend to relax his standards, but with this boy . . . he had to be careful.