Scarred Souls

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Title: Scarred Souls



Author: Misty Moonlight/Co-author: QueenBoadicea



Beta: QueenBoadicea



Pairings: Severus/Harry



Published: 12/10/2008



Summary: A widowed Harry must bond with Snape in order to save his daughter’s life. Sev gains a family, for better or worse, and the hearts of two scarred souls will be changed forever.



Warnings: Romance, Drama, Angst, Alternate Universe, Sexual Situations, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash, Anal, Language, Humor, possible MPreg, Bonding, Original Characters, Family, OOC-ness,

non-canon, WIP



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Chapter 11: Godric’s Hollow





Harry had to clench his jaw hard to keep from bursting into laughter. If he started, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.



The bright pink strands on Snape’s head did nothing for him. The man looked absolutely ridiculous and he felt deeply sorry that his friends couldn’t see this. Fred and George would have been hysterical.



As always, thoughts of Fred were swiftly followed by a twinge of depression and the urge to laugh died. Harry sighed and glared up the shadowy staircase. He couldn’t see them but he heard suspicious giggles from upstairs.



“Snape, don’t make things any worse,” he began.



“Worse? WORSE?!? My hair is a nauseating color thanks to your infantile offspring and these yammering heads will not stop their confounded jabber—WILL YOU BE QUIET?!?” he bellowed.



Harry stared. He didn’t know who or what Snape was yelling at but he hadn’t seen the man this rattled since that dreadful night when he’d killed Dumbledore.



Well, there was a quick solution to this problem. “Albus, James,” he snapped. “I know you’re listening. Get down here and explain yourselves.” When there was no answer but a sudden silence, he yelled, “NOW!”



Moments later, twin pairs of feet staggered down the stairs. The two boys gave exaggerated yawns as if they’d just woken up. James mumbled, “Dad? What is it? What’s wrong?”



Albus blinked at Snape. “Why’s the vampire’s hair pink, dad?” he added with a wide-eyed innocence that fooled no one.



“I think you two know. And don’t call him a vampire. Has Uncle George been giving you any experimental items from the joke shop to test out?”



“No, dad.” Albus looked directly at his father but he was sneaking sidelong glances at Snape. He was barely holding in his giggles and Harry knew he had to nip this in the bud before he himself lost it and drew down Snape’s wrath.



“Don’t lie to me, Albus.”



“I’m not lying, dad!” the boy protested, indignation replacing the false innocence.



“I suspect that he’s not lying but merely concealing the truth.” Snape’s bellowing had been replaced by the silky smooth tones Harry remembered from school. A chill of nervousness inched down his spine.



“That’s not really important. What is important is undoing this mess.” Harry pointed at Snape’s hair. “Fix this, boys.”



“Um, we can’t, dad. We can get the glue out of his hair and hands. But we can’t fix the color. George…I mean, it wasn’t supposed to happen. Did you hit him with some sort of spell or something?” James peered at his father, his freckled face once more exuding that fake innocence.



“The Cleaning Charm. It seems the glue reacted badly to it,” Harry said dryly.



“Really? Well, we didn’t know that would happen,” James murmured. He glanced at Snape only to encounter the man’s ferocious glare. He paled a little and shot his gaze back to his father.



“Potter, I am two seconds away from hexing these firstborn minions of hell…” He flinched and bright spots of red broke out on his cheeks. His eyes flicked to the side and forward again.



This time the boys did break out in sniggers and Harry’s eyes narrowed. Whatever was plaguing Snape aside from the glue and weird hair, the boys were in it up to their eyebrows. “Get rid of that glue, you pair, and undo whatever else you’ve done to him.”



James pursed his lips. Harry recognized the mutiny sparking in the hazel eyes. “Why should we?” he muttered. “He’s been a big ole prat since he moved in here.”



“Language, young man. What would your mother think if she could hear you talking that way?” Harry said, his voice stern with rebuke.



“Well, that’s what George calls him,” James shrugged.



“Yeah, dad. You don’t like him any better than we do! Why should we do anything for him—unless…” Albus’s voice trailed off, a look of calculation settling on his freckled face.



“I am not making any bargains with the likes of you two. You will undo this damage NOW or I will make you both very sorry,” Snape hissed.



The twins glared at Snape. There was no sign of fear now, only a hatred that would have done their paternal grandfather proud. Given the way Snape was acting, Harry could understand the dislike his two boys felt for their new “father”.



“You will not speak to my children that way, Snape,” Harry said coldly. “I told you you weren’t going to bully my family and I meant it. It’s this attitude that has gotten the twins on your back in the first place. When are you going to stop picking on little kids?”



“When are you going to grow a brain, Potter?” Severus snarled at him. “I have no intention of being kind to you or lax in discipline to your ill-bred children. If you can’t get them to behave, rest assured I will.”



Harry glared at him. “How? They’re too young to be in Hogwarts. So what are you going to do? Give detention? Take points? I’m not going to let you cast hexes or curses on my children, Snape.” He gripped his wand threateningly.



“Careful, Potter. You don’t want to set a bad example for the children by having them see you attack your bond mate, hm?” He turned back to the children. “Undo this. Now.”



“Say please,” Albus retorted.



“I most certainly will not!”



“Dad is always telling us to show good manners. If you don’t, why should we do anything you say?” James pointed out. He spoke with a child’s infuriating reasonableness. It didn’t help Severus’s temper to see Potter’s lips twitch.



“I’ve had enough.” He whipped out his wand and began the curse for the Itching Hex.



A couple of things happened.



Harry darted in front of his children. His wand moved, faster than Severus would have believed, and set up a shield between himself and the Potters. The shield was so dense Severus couldn’t see through it, only a bright white circle shimmering in the air.



Harry couldn’t believe it. In spite of his demand, Snape had actually tried to hex his children. Barely containing his rage, he dropped the shield, leaped forward and grabbed the startled Potions Master. Before Snape could pull free, he had jerked them both in Side-Along Apparition.



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Severus twisted himself out of Harry’s grip the moment they landed. He sprang away, wand out, prepared to blast Potter to hell. He’d told that miserable wretch not to touch him without his permission and the man had disobeyed.



“Do you recognize this place, Snape?”



This was a trick. Potter was trying to get him to drop his guard. Severus Snape wasn’t born yesterday and he wasn’t going to fall…



“This is Godric’s Hollow. This is where I lived with my parents.”



“I’m not staying here to listen to any sentimental gibb—”



Green eyes flared with the intensity of the Killing Curse. Severus felt his vocal cords seize up and he fell to the floor toppled by an unspoken Petrifying Hex.



“I got nightmares about my mum dying. But there were never any details. Just the sound of a woman screaming and a flash of bright green light.” Calm settled over Potter’s voice like a stifling blanket. He continued as if they were at tea, without seeming to care that Severus lay on the floor like a rolled-up carpet. Severus silently swore he would get even with his wretched bond mate for this.



Potter continued talking. Severus desperately tried to think of something to drown out his voice. But the floating heads were absent now and he was forced to listen to the Gryffindor’s prattling monologue.



“Then, after my sixth year in Hogwarts, when I was hunting Horcruxes, I saw a memory of Voldemort. He was striding down the street,” Harry waved vaguely towards the front of the house.



“It was Halloween and kids in costumes were running around everywhere. One kid saw—something of his face and nearly wet himself. Voldemort thought about hexing or killing him. But he was on a mission and couldn’t be bothered.



“He walked up the drive and blew open the door of the house. My father jumped up and yelled for my mother to run, that he’d hold Voldemort off. But he didn’t have his wand.”



Naturally, Severus thought maliciously. The stupid Gryffindor thought he could hold off the Dark Lord with a measly show of bravado. I always knew James Potter was a fool.



“He hit my father with the Killing Curse and then walked upstairs. My mother was there in this very room.” Harry paused. “Did he ever tell you that? About how he killed her?”



Potter was being deliberately cruel and the sheer unexpectedness of it was nearly enough to rob him of breath. But he wasn’t going to be tricked into any maudlin displays of grief or remorse.



The Gryffindor went over to the empty crib, leaning on the bars and peering into it as if confronting his baby self. “She begged him to spare me. He ordered her to stand aside. He was doing that as a favor to you, I guess. So you were still special to him back then…his very favorite Death Eater.



“I never told anybody about that. It was too painful. I wonder if he ever told you…you know, after he came back from the dead.” Harry paused as if waiting for an answer.



He shrugged when nothing was forthcoming. “No, probably not. It wasn’t his finest moment. He killed my parents only to get blasted into a floating shell by a little toddler. Must have been humiliating.



“I’m telling you all this, Snape, because I wonder if you want to follow in his footsteps. Hurting Potters, I mean. My mom died to protect me and she would have wanted to know her grandchildren are safe. So if you can’t keep from harming them for my sake, do it for hers.”



His hand twisted in a vague gesture and Severus felt the spell on him dissipate. He scrambled to his feet, ready to hex the brat into oblivion. But Harry was already on the move and Disapparated with a pop, leaving Severus alone in the house.



Severus wasn’t going to stay here. He’d done his wretched tour of the house after Lily had died. He had ripped her signature off a letter and torn her image from a photograph that held her cherished face and the insipid mugs of her husband and child. There was nothing left for him here except this horrible memory Potter had thrust upon him.



He was not going to let a pathetic attempt at instilling guilt stop him from teaching those two little brats the lesson they deserved. Since Potter had already thwarted his initial attempt, he would have to find a subtler means of retaliation.



He Apparated back to the cottage, his wand up, all senses alert for lurking enemies. The house was eerily still and he frowned. He found his boots still intact where he’d left them and tugged them on with angry jerks. Suitably shod, he silently crept up the stairs, his wand out and at the ready to hex whoever crossed his sights.



But Potter was nowhere to be seen. He was unable to get through the barrier again and didn’t attempt to force it.



To hell with it. If the man was sulking, that was his problem. If he was hiding, well, he’d have to emerge sooner or later and, when he did, Severus Snape would be waiting for him.



But there was an abnormal hush that spoke of more than people huddling behind closed doors. Severus frowned and cast several spells to reveal hidden humans. There was nothing but he cast more spells to see through Harry’s door and those of his offspring. The rooms all appeared to be deserted.



“Looks like he’s done a bunk,” head number two said. The sudden talk after many minutes of silence caused him to start. But otherwise he gave no sign that he’d heard.



“It’s just you and us then, Cyranose,” added head number one with an asinine giggle like a mental patient of St. Mungo’s.



“Well, I for one certainly enjoyed that bit of nostalgia on Harry’s part, didn’t you? Maybe he can tell us what it was like growing up with the Dursleys! Other than the little peeks you got of his charming home life during Occlumency, he’s never discussed that with you, has he? That was another thing you didn’t save him from, you incompetent clown.”



Snape refused to look at the things, refused to respond to their caterwauling torment. He was going to take a long, hot shower; hopefully, the noise would drown out their incessant chatter. Then he was going to take as much Dreamless Sleep as he dared and go to bed. With any luck, the voices would not follow him into his slumber.



He had a pretty good idea where that cowardly Potter and his wretched offspring had flown. But he was damned if he’d show up in front of the Weasleys with his hair in the state it was in. There was no way he was giving that overbearing matriarch of theirs that satisfaction.



“Down at an English fair, one evening I was there…”The third head had found a new song, one it burbled in a high falsetto that felt like fingernails being scraped down a Hogwarts chalkboard.



“Did you see how sexy Potter looked, half dressed like that?” This came from the first head, the dreamy tone quite incongruous with its whiny stridency.



“Who could miss it? Certainly, not this lonely, miserable queer.”



“When I heard a showman shouting underneath the flair…”



“What a lucky lady that Ginny was. Too bad Harry’s stuck with this washed up, bony-legged, knobby-kneed, scrawny scarecrow with a caricature of a face.”



“I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts, see them standing there in the road…”



“Too bad the scarecrow is stuck with only his right hand for company tonight.”



At this last feeble sally, all three heads burst into loud braying guffaws.



Severus wanted to scream. This was what he was being subjected to? An unending barrage of moronic crudeness designed to pass for wit? Those little hellions may have the sneakiness of Slytherins but their tastes were solely that of crass Gryffindors. There was no doubt what house they’d be sorted into once they were old enough to be admitted to Hogwarts.



The heads began a dizzying, disorienting dance in front of him. Swatting his hands had no effect on them; they simply passed through his flailing arms and continued bouncing around in the air in front of him.



“Greasy haired…”



“Wait! Not so greasy now!”



“Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head…”



“Over the hill, dirty old man, marrying somebody young enough to be his son!”



“What, he couldn’t get the whores of Knockturn Alley?”



He showered, the roar of the water enough to stifle the voices for the moment. Scrubbing at his hair reduced the gluey stickiness somewhat although it did nothing to fix the color.



Clad in his nightgown he grimly swallowed the draught as the bat-creatures hovered above his bed, each ceaselessly yammering in their distinctive tones.



“You wear black silk pajamas to bed? Why? Who do you think is going to see it?”



“I’m a little teapot, short and stout; this is my handle, this is my spout…”



“You know what’s the saddest thing in the world?”



“That hair on top of that scarred, hideous face?”



He would endure this. He had suffered far worse at the hands of Voldemort for far too long to be brought to his knees by the antics of a pair of juvenile delinquents. The Marauders hadn’t broken him. Albus Dumbledore’s requests hadn’t destroyed him. Albus Remus and James Sirius would get their comeuppance.



No one messed with Professor Snape.





TBC





Author’s notes: The songs are taken in part from the Keeper of Lists, May 1, 2003, “Top 220 Most Annoying Songs to Get Stuck in Your Head”. The copyrights are the property of the various owners (if any). The bat constructs are based on a suggestion from the “magical grab bag” in the Fantasy section of the National Novel Writing Month website.