A Father's Sin

Chapter 10 ----Face to Face

The doors to the Hospital Wing creaked softly as Severus pushed them open, stepping cautiously through the doors. Struggling to steel his nerves, he ran a hand back through his hair, clenching his teeth in determination. For a moment he stayed perfectly still, standing just inside the room with his hand still on the door. He wanted to turn back around, maybe come back tomorrow instead. A soft sound came from somewhere in the room, and he paused, half-way turned back out the door. Off in a far corner, Poppy had fallen asleep in a chair, near a bed where a dozing Neville Longbottom lay, half-hidden by the bed curtains. And nearer, on the opposite side of the room, lay the only other occupied bed in the Wing, almost completely hidden by the curtains.

Almost in a daze, he found himself approaching slowly, eyes focused on the curtains as if he were headed toward a dragon's lair rather than a sick child. Then again, Severus was quite sure that he'd rather walk wand-less into some dark cavern than be here. At least he would've known what to expect from a dragon. But underneath all of his fear and anxiety, there was an undeniable curiosity. Albeit, it was the same sort of curiosity that urged adventurers toward the jagged maw of a hungry dragon, but it was there nonetheless. Would the boy be terrified? Angry? Lost in a pit of despair? And what about the glamourie...would he see Lily's eyes staring back at him in fear and hatred yet again? He cringed, hoping desperately that he wouldn't find terror there. Hatred he could deal with, he even expected it. But...fear? Normally that wouldn't be a problem either, but...now that the glamourie spell had been removed, the boy probably looked more like Lily than ever before. And there was another thought tainted with fear and curiosity that was taunting him...the fact that he'd be seeing something of himself in the boy as well. He didn't know what to think of that...whether it would send him off on another tangent of self-loathing for forcing Lily to create a life with him, or if he'd rage at the boy that had no choice in the matter.

Another sound, almost like a whimper came from inside the curtains, and Severus stalled his thoughts. Taking a deep breath and fixing his face into a blank expression, he stepped forward and quietly pulled aside the curtain. The instant he sighted the figure within, his expression faltered, sliding into one of awe and slight fear. The boy was curled beneath the sheets, an old book sprawled open on the bed beside him. He was twitching slightly, face shifting back and forth between sleep, fear, and pain. Severus was frozen, hand still clutching the edge of the curtain. He stared unblinkingly, watching the fine-featured face as it changed in uneasy sleep. There was some sort of strange emotion rising deep in his chest as he studied the face, recognizing his own features blended with Lily's. He felt his lips twitching slightly, almost managing to curl into a slight smile. Was that pride he was feeling? He wondered, was he actually proud to see himself reflected, to know that this boy was his? Grimacing, he narrowed his eyes, he could not allow himself to think like that. He had no right to feel proud for anything that came of the sin he'd committed, even considering who the boy was. This boy had defeated the Dark Lord, had been the youngest Quidditch player in over a century, this boy was a hero...and he was his. His son...not James'. Severus struggled desperately to banish the smug pride that arose at the thought, but he couldn't stop it. For the first time, he was staring at his son....

"No..." a muffled cry rose from the bed, and Severus instantly whirled behind the curtains, daring to spy from around the edge. The boy sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a grimace. Eyes slanted just like his own.... Almost absently the boy reached out toward the bedside table, then seemed to freeze in the motion, drawing his hand back again. Instead, he idly propped the pillows behind himself and sat back against them, opening the ragged old book in his lap. Severus watched as he read a page or two, still battling his own rampant thoughts. The Serpent's Mark stood out clearly on his pale flesh, a blatant reminder of how he'd been conceived. Severus struggled to cast aside the wave of guilt that rose at the sight of the Mark, unconsciously reaching out to clutch a hand around his own forearm. He'd chosen to bear a similar mark that tied him to the Dark Lord, but his son hadn't been given the choice. Then, he clenched his jaw and stepped cautiously forward, standing completely unnoticed from his place at the foot of the bed.

"Nightmare?" he asked suddenly, surprised that he'd been able to keep his voice calm and clear. He was sure the boy jumped nearly six inches then, the book flying to lay sprawled near his feet.

"Professor?!" Harry asked in shock, his eyes wide and panicked as he struggled to calm himself. His eyes fixed on the dark, towering figure at the end of the bed, he leaned forward slightly and snatched up the book, absently stuffing the few loose pages back within the covers.

"Do you have them often?" Snape asked, and Harry stopped, the book clutched protectively to his chest. It seemed as if the tension in the room had escalated the moment Snape had said the very first word, and now it hung plainly between them. The air practically vibrated with it, nearly visible in tiny lightening bolts.

"Er...yes, actually...since last year," Harry managed, quickly swallowing the lump in his throat. He looked down at his hands, unable to meet the cool, black gaze and blank expression fixed on him attentively. Snape didn't reply, but turned away slightly, walking a few steps to the side. Looking up, Harry watched him curiously, hoping that he'd just come to ask about the Serpent's Children...or even to demand overdue homework. Snape's face remained perfectly blank, but after a moment of inspection, Harry discovered that the man certainly wasn't calm. His skin was more pale than sallow, and there was a light sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. 'He's nervous!' Harry realized, taking comfort in the fact that at least he wasn't the only one who wanted desperately to bolt out the door.

"I want to apologize," Snape said suddenly, shattering the silence, and Harry jerked in surprise. "For yesterday. I should not have yelled," he continued, and nervously ran a hand back through his hair. At least he'd said something, he thought, and at least the boy hadn't run away screaming. He did have his mother's eyes though, he could feel them fixed on his face even then. That discovery somehow made him even more uneasy, the apology even harder to make.

"Don't worry about it," Harry managed quietly, looking down at the bed. "I shouldn't have said anything..." he added quietly, and shrunk back in surprise when Snape whirled around suddenly, eyes wide with mild shock.

"And why do you believe you should not have said anything?!" Severus asked sharply, instantly regretting the tone of his voice. Harry froze, lowering his head even further.

"Because you hate me, and knowing that I'm you're son...well..." he said quietly, and with surprising calm, as if he'd completely accepted the fact that his father hated him. Severus stared at him wide eyed, disbelieving his ears. The boy was afraid that he'd ruined his life?! That he'd be ashamed to have him as a son? He'd expected it to be somewhat the opposite...with P--no, Harry ranting and raving about how his own life was ruined, not the other way around. Sighing deeply, he wandered over to one of the chairs and sat down heavily, staring down at the floor just as Harry was staring at the bed.

"I don't hate you, Harry," he said finally, and the boy looked up abruptly.

"But..." he began, and Severus silenced him by looking up suddenly and meeting his gaze.

"I hate what you remind me of, what seeing you forces me to remember," he finished, and the boy continued staring at him in disbelief. After a moment, he lowered his eyes to the bed again, gaze unfocused.

"You really didn't want to hurt her, did you...?" Harry said, allowing the idea to slowly sink in. He couldn't seem to be angry at Snape for it now, not like he had been after their 'talk' down in the dungeons. Now, he was simply too afraid.

"She was a friend, Harry. Would you be willing to hurt Granger or Weasley?" he said, and Harry blanched, finally understanding just what kind of pain Snape had been going through for the past fifteen, and especially the past four years. He couldn't imagine ever hurting his friends, ever being put in a position between that and death. But then it had probably been even more complex than that.... After all, Snape didn't just have his own life to worry about, he'd been a spy at the time. The man had been forced to choose between continuing his invaluable role against Voldemort, dying, or violating a childhood friend. No wonder he'd yelled at him the other night....

"No...I wouldn't," Harry answered, letting the book slowly slide from his white knuckled grasp. It was so strange to be sitting there with Snape without either one of them seething with anger. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about it all yet, how he felt about his father. He didn't really like him, that much he knew, but it wasn't a persistent sort of dislike. Instead it was more of a fear of being humiliated, yelled at, or accused of some imagined trespass. Now however, his feelings were mostly blank, excepting his mild terror, nervousness, and an odd, desperate sort of feeling. He believed Snape when he said he didn't hate him, knew it was the truth, but he still feared it. He didn't want to be hated by his father, have the man be ashamed of him. And while he knew he needn't fear the former any more, he still wasn't sure about the later.

"You do realize, Harry...that I have absolutely no idea what to do about this," Snape said suddenly, finally allowing a bit of his unease to show in his expression.

"Neither do I," Harry replied, drawing his knees up to his chest. "I don't mind if you just want to ignore it," he added, though his voice betrayed the fact that he most certainly did care. Severus stared at him out of the corner of his eye, unable to explain the slight pain the words caused. He didn't hide it from his face when he turned his head, staring after the averted face. He'd never bothered to learn much about the boy before, and he was surprised to find out just how much he'd missed. The boy was selfless, almost painfully so. Harry was willing to sacrifice his own feeling just so that he, Severus Snape, wouldn't have to deal with being a father. How was it possible that this boy was his son?

"I most certainly will not ignore it," Severus said sharply, purposely preserving the pain in his expression. Harry looked up, his expression torn between surprise and fear. Then it softened, slowly bleeding into one of confusion. "You're my son, boy. You don't honestly expect me to simply pretend otherwise?"

"Well...it's just that...I didn't think you'd want one...and nobody really knows about it...." Harry stammered, struggling to understand the flash of pain he'd earlier seen across Snape's face.

"What does it matter if I wanted a son or not? I have one now, don't I?" Snape continued, crossing his arms firmly across his chest.

"Yeah..." Harry replied, brows knitting in confusion. Where was this going?

"I won't fool myself by believing you're the least bit happy about discovering that I am your father...but it is the truth. And as such, I will try to be one...if you're not too horrified by the idea," Severus said quickly, and ran a hand back through his hair again nervously. He couldn't truthfully ignore it after all, even if he didn't happen to have any idea on how to be a father. He owed it to Lily, at the very least, to give her--their son something of what he'd been denied. He didn't imagine he'd be very good at it, he'd snapped at the boy already and they'd only been talking for a few minutes. But he would try, and he'd suggested nothing more.

Harry was staring at him as if he'd grown a second head, but didn't immediately reply. Lowering his head, Harry looked back down at the linen bed sheets, completely shocked and confused. Snape wanted to be a father? He didn't want to ignore it all? He couldn't believe it...Snape was offering to try and be a father, he didn't appear to be disgusted by the idea in the least. In fact, he seemed almost...hopeful....

"I'd like that," Harry finally replied, allowing a small smile. "I've never had one before..." he added, and smiled wider. So what if it was the mean old Potions Master? He wasn't an orphan anymore, and his father was willing...not desperate to throw him in a dark cupboard and lock him away. At least he hoped not....But no matter the case, Harry couldn't ignore the almost giddy feeling rising in his chest. He wasn't going to be ignored...he wasn't going to be shunned....When he looked back up, Snape had his head cocked to the side curiously, as if something he'd said had confused him.

"What about those muggles you supposedly live with?" he asked, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. Surely the boy had had at least some sort of father-type figure....

"The Dursley's?! They really do hate me, Professor. Ron can vouch for me on that. It wasn't their decision to take me in, and they haven't missed a chance to remind me it," Harry said, instantly cringing at the very thought of them.

"Oh," was all Severus said in reply, startled as yet another assumption about the boy was thrown out the window.

"So....what now?" Harry asked, fidgeting nervously with the edge of the bed sheet. Severus shrugged slightly, leaning his chin on his knuckles.

"Well...we'll have to change you back, at least temporarily...." he began, dark eyes swirling with thought. "Beyond that...I don't know. I can't promise that I will change my attitude toward you in class, if you were wondering about that."

"I know. Not with Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle in there, anyway," Harry replied, lips curling in disgust at the names. With their parents being loyal Death Eaters, it would be, of course, impossible for Snape to change his attitude toward him in any fashion. Snape nodded in reply, his expression faintly amused.

"Yes, it would not be...pleasant if Voldemort suspected anything at all," he replied, and Harry saw him cringe slightly. He was tempted to ask what would happen, what had possibly happened over the summer with the Dark Lord, but it didn't seem like a good idea. Not yet, anyway. Suddenly, the curtains at the end of the bed were pushed aside, and both Harry and Snape jumped in surprise.

"Professor Snape?!" Madam Pomfrey muttered in surprise, a tiny bottle of healing potion held in one hand and a clipboard in the other. She paused, her gaze drifting from Harry to Snape and back again, some sort of understanding begin to dawn.

"Are you two...related?" she asked tentatively, and Harry simply stared at her. Snape rolled his eyes and cast her an annoyed glare.

"Yes, he happens to be my son. Now, do you mind?" he growled, clearly hinting that she turn right back around and leave if she valued her health. Being a nurse, she probably did, but instead of paying any immediate heed to the glare she snatched a quill from her pocket and began scribbling happily on the clipboard.

"I had no idea, Professor...at least now I have something to write down under 'name.' Honestly, all this secrecy Dumbledore's been insisting on..." she muttered quickly. "Now, there wouldn't happen to be a first name to go with that, would there?" she asked, and then froze when she finally looked up. Both Snape and his son were glaring at her in precisely the same, very annoyed fashion. "Right then...'Snape, comma, question mark' it is, then," she muttered, and then deftly slipped back out the way she came, muttering something about how on earth she'd survive two of them.

"Finally," Snape growled, rising from his chair, "Now that the distractions are over..." he began, purposely saying the one word louder than the rest, "I have to go prepare for tomorrow's classes."

"Um...Professor?" Harry asked quietly, and Snape turned to watch him, his hand on the edge of the curtain. "Could I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead," Snape said, turning to face him again.

"Um...I've been wondering...since I'm one of the Serpent's Children, does that mean Voldemort will have some sort of power over me if he finds out?" he asked, struggling to hide the slight fear in his eyes.

"I don't know for sure, but we'll find out soon enough undoubtedly," Snape replied tiredly, and Harry sighed, reaching a hand up to touch the marked flesh between his eyes.

"Yeah," Harry muttered, leaning heavily back against the pillows.

"Goodnight, Harry. We'll talk again," Snape said, then turned back toward the curtains and slipped silently through, ignoring the look the nurse was giving him from across the room.

"Okay," Harry replied to the empty room, turning his head to stare up at the ceiling. 'Well...that was certainly strange,' he thought to himself, 'and I'm still alive, that's a good sign,' he added with a smile. Staring at the softly rustling curtain, he sighed deeply, listening as the last echoes of the closing door reverberated through the room. While it was undoubtedly going to be a very rocky, and possibly chaotic year, Harry didn't find himself fearing it anymore. He was almost curious to see what would happen, if Snape really would try and change, and if so, if it would a good thing or not. He was still terrified, he realized that much, and there were far too many questions than there were answers, but he didn't really care at the moment. All that mattered was Snape's promise. The curtain suddenly slid open again, revealing Madam Pomfrey for the second time, and Harry looked up with a slight, apologetic smile.

"Time for you to take another healing potion, Mr. Snape," she said, wielding the telltale bottle and enunciating the name. Harry cringed, lips curling in surprise and disgust. Mr. Snape? Hell, he hadn't even thought about that....How horrible....He took the proffered bottle from her hand, and when he didn't down it immediately, she said;

"Well, come on now. We don't have all day, Mr. Snape."

Ick....