My Son One and Only

My Son One and Only

*

Chapter 3

Heal Him

*

Three powdered rattlesnake fangs were mixed with a handful of carefully sliced aloe leaves. After the addition of three drops of unicorn water, the potion turned into a particular hue of light blue. Automatically stirring the potion three times clockwise, Severus then let his hands take care of the work, his mind somewhere entirely else. To be exact, fixed on the boy the potion was meant for.

Nicholas... or Neville. Whatever his name was, the boy was still his son. Of course, he might never know it himself, but he still was Severus's son, his flesh and blood. And he would be damned if he let his son die again -- since this time, it really would be his fault, and nobody else's.

Neville would still need a lot of time to recover, but with the potion, he indeed would do that. It would take a long time enough that it would look like natural recovery instead of him somehow having got the cure that nobody was supposed to be able to successfully brew for him. Severus, of course, would have to admit that he had been wrong, but that was nothing compared with having to let his son die. And, most importantly, nobody would ever know. Nobody but he and Albus.

Severus knew that he would never tell anybody, least of all the boy himself. Nobody would have believed him even if he had told them, and as for Neville, well, he had already made the boy's life a living hell. There was no reason to make it even worse by blowing away everything he had ever believed in. Nothing could force Severus to tell him -- well, except for the change of eye colour. But then again, he wouldn't have to deal with that until the boy turned seventeen, and even then, the chances of it being connected to him were rather slim. After all, who could have thought that Neville might actually be a Snape?

But even if he couldn't tell the truth, he also knew that he wouldn't be able to be as nasty to Neville as before. Whereas he'd earlier seen Nicholas on Neville's face and wanted to punish his student for simply being alive, as well as to get rid of the pain he still felt for losing his son, he now would know that he was truly seeing Nicholas. And there wasn't any might in the world that could make him able to purposefully hurt his precious son. No, he wouldn't be cruel to Neville Longbottom ever again.

Of course, that wouldn't stop him from being cruel to Potter, and from taking out his rage and pain for not being able to have his son and tell everybody that Neville was his and that he was proud of him. No, his behaviour towards that particular brat would certainly not change.

There would still be the Voldemort factor to consider, of course. Even that would alone force him to torment Potter again, and he would at least have to treat Neville like he treated all Gryffindors -- cruelly and unfairly. But not even Voldemort could take away his caring and pride for the boy. Everything he had ever felt for Nicholas was now directed at Neville, and that couldn't be changed.

Stir twice clockwise, stop for five seconds, and stir four times anticlockwise. It was fairly easy, at least to him. Briefly he wondered if Neville had inherited any of his skills in Potions. The boy's performance in class certainly didn't suggest that, but having seen the results of his Potions OWL, Severus had no doubt that most of it was just fear. That and the boy's tendency to hide his full abilities. If he just got rid of those, his general grades would certainly improve. Well, if he only got rid of his bad memory, too, though that was only thanks to the memory charms that prevented him from remembering the Longbottom's torture. The poor boy had been only a year old; without the memory charms, he'd surely been traumatized for life.

Adding a bit of Venderroot, Severus glanced at the potion. It was now just the sky blue colour it was supposed to be, and smelled faintly of vanilla. Soon it would be ready for Neville to drink it.

The thought made him shiver a bit. That meant that he would have to go to the Infirmary and face his son. The fact that Neville wouldn't be even conscious didn't make it any easier. And besides, as soon as he drank the potion, he would regain his consciousness. Whether or not he woke up would depend solely on Severus's luck. Well, if the boy did wake up and saw him next to his bed, he'd most probably think that it was just a dream. Or more likely a nightmare.

Well, that couldn't be helped. Instead, he had to go to cure the boy now. There was no time to waste.

...Then why was it so difficult to get his feet to work?

*

The corridors of Hogwarts were eerily quiet as Severus strode through them. It was past midnight already, and only ghosts moved in the castle at this time. Even the dead, however, moved out of Severus's way as they saw his expression. Nobody in their right mind dared to cross an annoyed Severus Snape.

However, in reality, Severus wasn't annoyed. In fact, he was just deep in thought. But as to that date only one person had been able to tell his annoyed frown from his thoughtful one, and that person had been dead for sixteen years, nobody still dared to face him.

As he came nearer to the Infirmary, however, his pace slowed down considerably. At last, he stopped in front of the door, thinking. Then, drawing a deep breath and hoping to Merlin that Poppy was asleep, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

His eyes soon caught the unconscious boy in the otherwise empty Infirmary, and he tensed. This was the first time he saw his son, really. Of course, he had seen his countless times, but this was the first time he was truly aware of it being Nicholas. And besides, the boy didn't really look like himself anymore. He was thinner due to his illness, and his hair had grown at least an inch. His face was pale, too.

Actually, Severus noticed with a startle, the boy looked a lot like him now. Having lost his overdue baby fat, Neville's features were now recognizable to anybody who knew what to look for. Of course, that only meant that Albus would see the truth; nobody else could even imagine that he was the boy's father.

As he stood there, watching, Neville started to mumble quietly. Of course, Severus was not surprised. Sure, the boy was supposed to be unconscious, but he knew better than well that the Internal Magic Plague caused hallucinations once it got far enough to make the victim lose consciousness. So, he merely sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting for the boy to stop so he could administer the potion.

After some time, however, instead of stopping the murmurs, Neville started to turn and toss around in the bed. As he didn't show any signs of calming down, Severus, against his better judgement, reached out a hand to grasp on his shoulder. He was startled by the immediate response to that. Neville snuggled up to him, clutching on his robes as if to be safe from something that kept agonizing him.

Severus's heart clenched in his chest. Just how many times had he imagined this? How many times had he imagined how, if Nicholas had been allowed to live, he'd have always been there for his son, giving him advice when needed, protecting from nightmares, loving him? And now, the only time he actually could care for his son the way he had always wanted to, the boy wasn't even aware of him being there -- or of him being his father. Oh, the irony of the world.

Then again, that wasn't anything new to him, as he was rather used to being the victim of the world's irony. He'd a long time ago noticed that if there indeed was some divine power looking over the world, it had a personal grudge against him. All this probably amused the bastard to no end.

At last, however, Neville had calmed down enough for him to administer the potion. Steadying the boy's body on his arm, he took the phial from his pocket, uncorking it. Then he raised it to the boy's lips, slowly pouring it into his mouth, at the same time massaging his throat to make him swallow.

At last, he had got the potion down Neville's throat. Putting the now empty phial into his pocket, he carefully lowered the boy onto the bed. The Gryffindor mumbled something in his sleep, but thankfully didn't wake up. Well, so maybe he did have at least some luck after all.

As he looked down at the boy, Severus simply couldn't resist the temptation, but did something he hadn't done in the last sixteen years. Leaning down, he placed a light kiss on his son's forehead, murmuring, "Good night, Nicholas." Then he hastily left the Infirmary, not looking back.

He could not look back.