Severus looked right in his mentor's eyes, knowing he would probably be Legilimized himself, and not giving a whit. "Six years, I suspect. As that's how long they've had the care of him. They won't die of it, but they might wish they had."
"Very well." Albus put the tin of lemon drops away in a drawer. "Is there anything else, Severus?"
"Yes, a trifling matter," he said, rather stiffly. For all Severus was grateful to the Headmaster and the help he'd provided on Severus' "legal troubles" with the Ministry, Albus could be a right pill sometimes. "Harry woke from his nap this afternoon, screaming. I could find nothing wrong with him, but he said everything hurt, down to his bones. But his appearance is unchanged, and anyway, I thought the blood ritual took months to work itself out."
"It does," Albus agreed.
"Another thing, he cast a perfect Silencing charm around himself, while still sleeping! Says he had to do it with the Dursleys because he wasn't allowed to make noise, even in his dreams."
"Quite talented, then, at his age."
Severus glared at him. "You're not even listening, are you? The boy has taught himself magic as protection from those bloody creatures, and won't even tell me when he's in pain! I want to know what the hell went wrong with the ritual. What fresh pain can I expect for my son, since he won't tell me about it himself?"
"None, I would suspect," Albus said serenely. His eyes had somehow regained their twinkle, and Severus didn't trust that a bit. "At least, not from any external magic. He will certainly have an adjustment period, living with an actual parent for the first time."
"You know something," Severus bit out. He didn't like the twinkle, nor the fond tone Albus had taken with him. "What are you hiding?"
"Me? Severus, you should know me better than that."
"I know you better than to expect a straight answer, you mean." Severus unclenched his fists and wondered for the hundredth time if he was doing the right thing by putting himself under the old codger's aegis. But what choice did he have, really?
"I always tell you everything you need to know."
"And not a tenth of what I want to know," Severus muttered. He grabbed the container of Floo powder, and wrenched off the lid.
"See you on Friday, then. With the boy."
With a barely civil nod, Severus flung powder into the flames and headed home.
TBC . . .
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A/N: Alas, no Hogwarts yet. Next chapter, though, I promise. Thank you to all who read and review!
*Chapter 14*: Chapter 14
Whelp – Chapter 14
By jharad17
Disclaimer: Why you keep looking at me like that? This isn't mine, I say!
A/N
at end
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Harry screamed in his sleep again that night. And without even realizing, he put up the Silencing spell. But Severus had already put up charms to wake him if Harry's sleep was disturbed at all and so was warned when the boy's nightmares started. In his room across the hall, he rolled over at the incessant buzzing sound, realized what it was after ten or fifteen seconds, and then lunged from his bed to the boy's room. He found Harry flailing around in the bed, caught up in quilts and sheets that had his trapped and practically hyperventilating . . . but silently.
Severus canceled the spell, bracing himself for the screams he now knew would follow, and then gathered the boy in his arms. For another few minutes, he had to fight the boy's fists and feet as Harry struggled to free himself from the one holding him, but when the boy finally wakened, his eyes were round as saucers and Severus knew he could never tell this child he couldn't do accidental magic, no matter how much it troubled him. The boy was rigid with fear in Severus' arms. His skin was flushed and sweaty from his exertions, and Severus spoke softly to him, saying, "Shush, now, Harry. It's all right, now. I have you . . ."
"Daddy," the little boy whispered, his breath hitching, and he sagged bonelessly, burying his face in Severus' shoulder, tiny, stick-thin arms snaking around his neck.
Startled, Severus patted the back of Harry's head rather awkwardly. Daddy? "Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked. "Did you have a bad dream?"
Harry nodded against Severus' shoulder. His breath came in hot gasps. "Was awful. Sh'was screaming."
"Who was screaming, Harry?"
"The lady wiff red hair. An then there was green light and she was dead."
Severus felt cold all over and held the boy more tightly. Lily. He'd dreamed of his mother's death. "It's all right," he murmured.
"S'not all right," the boy argued. "She's dead, and I never got to know her."
"No," Severus said. "No, you never did."
After that, there was some more back patting, and Dappin brought them cocoa, which the boy said he'd never had before in his life but pronounced "Brilliant!" and then tucking in again. Severus left a small ball of light, about the size of a Remembrall on the side table, which Harry could watch as it flowed through various colors, if he wanted.
"Try to sleep again, though," he told his son as he started to shut the door. "Tomorrow will be a busy day."
"Father!" the boy called. "Please . . . leave it open?"
Severus nodded and did so, making sure his own was open a bit, too, when he returned to bed, in case the boy sought him out during the night. The rest of the night passed fairly uneventfully, although Severus got up several more times, just to make sure the boy was all right, one time needing to cover him up properly, as all his bedclothes had been kicked off.
In the morning, he sat on the edge of the bed, still tired, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. How comfortable he'd become in such a very short time with the idea that Harry was his son now. Smiling faintly, he performed his morning ablutions and met the boy as he was coming down the narrow stairs to the sitting room. The boy was in the clothes he'd worn yesterday, though without the robes, and his dress shoes clacked menacingly on the steps.
"Clothes, today," Severus announced, looking the boy up and down. "Directly after breakfast."
Harry's eyes widened, but he said nothing except, "Yes, sir."
Severus' lips thinned, but he nodded once and led the way to the dining room where breakfast was already laid out. Once the child settled himself in a chair, Severus lifted it for him like he'd done before. Instead of looking horrified, this time Harry laughed with glee as the chair shot up, even though his fingers closed spasmodically on the arms of the chair. It was the first time he'd heard the boy laugh, and Severus resolved he wanted to hear the sound more often.
Harry looked over the table, naked hunger in his eyes, but did not reach for a single scrap. Severus picked up the platter of eggs and served a helping to himself, and Harry watched, eyes flicking from platter to spoon to plate and back in nervous anticipation. "Would you like eggs, Harry?"
The boy bit his lip rather than answer right away, and Severus cursed himself immediately. From his invasion of those Muggles' insect-like minds, he knew that same question – if answered in the affirmative, particularly – had almost always been jeered in response, by Harry's relatives. "Too bad, then, that you've been a horrid little boy and aren't getting any," from his aunt, and, "Only if there's any left after I'm done, right Mummy?" from the cousin.
So . . . "Have some eggs, Harry," Severus said, covering the awkward silence, and scooped a generous helping onto the boy's plate.
Harry gazed up at him with such adoration it made his heart lurch. "Thank you, sir."
"And bacon," and he popped three strips onto Harry's plate as well. "Toast, too." Two pieces of buttered toast followed, filling the plate.