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 Reality/Universe, Sexual Situations, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash, Anal, Language, Humor, possible MPreg, Bonding, Original Characters, Family, non-canon, OOC, WIP



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Chapter 12: Who’s Your Stepdaddy?





Harry packed up his children and went to the Burrow. There was nowhere else for them to go, really. Grimmauld Place had been deeded to him but he had found always it too dreary and depressing. The boys needed something familiar and comfortable to keep them grounded, at least for the moment.



“Thanks for putting us up, Mum. Things at home…” Harry faltered.



“No need to explain, dear. I’m surprised you actually decided to stay there so soon after being shackled to that miserable man,” Molly admonished, albeit with a sympathetic smile.



“We can’t stay here, you know. You just don’t have the room here and it reminds me too much of…” His voice trailed off, grew tight with emotion.



Molly’s eyes teared slightly at his broken words. Her beloved Ginny had been dead for a year but she had been Molly’s youngest child and only daughter. The loss of her bright, lovely Ginevra stung her even more cruelly than it did Harry.



“Stay as long as you need, Harry. As I’ve told you often enough, you’re family. You’re always welcome here.” She leaned against the stairway and a wicked smile creased her lips. “Severus Snape with pink hair. I wish I could have seen that.”



“Yeah, it’s something, all right.”



She chuckled and left and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Much as he loved Molly Weasley, she could be a bit clingy and he wanted to talk to his boys in private.



********************************************************************



Al sat on the opposite bunk and glared at his older brother. “I thought you said he’d leave,” he hissed quietly.



“Of course, he’ll leave. It’s just going to take longer than I thought, is all,” James responded, nibbling at his lower lip.



“You didn’t tell me that!”



“Didja really think he’d leave at the first kick? We just have to come up with other stuff,” James responded. “Don’t tell me you’re backing out now.”



“I’m not backing out. But he was supposed to leave. And we’re the ones who left and are stuck here.”



James shrugged. “Either way, we’re free of His Meanness. So it’s a good thing, yeah?”



“I guess,” Al said sullenly.



The door swung open suddenly and both boys jumped. Their father was standing in the doorway, looking not at all pleased with them. “James, Al. We have to talk.”



“Dad, we’re not undoing it,” Al said, his lips pinching tight.



“You have to. Like it or not, Severus Snape is your new father—”



“He’s not our father. He doesn’t want anything to do with us and we hate him!” James retorted.



Harry sighed and sat beside his eldest. Of the two, James was often the more stubborn; if Harry could sway him, he was sure Albus would follow. “Severus went through—a hard time, boys, much harder than I did.”



“Did he lose someone he loved?” Albus said solemnly.



“Yes, he did.” Harry seized on this at once. Snape hadn’t lost anybody recently, which was what Albus was probably thinking. But he had lost his only friend in Lily Evans, both before and after her death. Perhaps he could play on the boys’ sympathies this way.



“He loved someone, a redheaded girl just like your mother. Voldemort killed her. You remember I told you about him?” When both boys nodded, he continued, “That made him so unhappy. He never made another friend who was like her and that made him bitter and closed off.”



Al sprang off his bed and scrambled over to where Harry sat with his eldest son. He wrapped his arms around his father. “Do you think he’s lonely, Dad?”



Harry seriously didn’t think it was that simple or even true. He’d never known a man more devoted to his solitude and harboring a more intense dislike of other human beings than Severus Snape. Yet how else could he explain the effect of Severus’s twisted history on the man’s character to two young boys? “Yeah, that’s it. He’s lonely, Al.”



Al’s mouth twisted. “So maybe that’s why he wanted to be with you…so he could get his own family.”



Again, that was the last interpretation of Snape’s motives Harry would make. But he wasn’t going to let the children know of his new husband’s intent to punish him and make his life hell. He contented himself with smiling and hugging the two boys nestled on either side.



“But why did you marry him, Dad? You don’t even like him,” James protested.



“Well, the fact is I owe him a lot. If it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t have survived to fight Voldemort.”



“But you don’t love him, do you, Dad? Not the way you loved Mummy?” Al said this anxiously, his green eyes wide.



Harry hugged the boy tightly to him. “No one can ever take the place of your mummy, Albus. Believe that. Your new father is a good man underneath everything. You’ll just have to be patient with him.”



James knew there was a lot his father wasn’t telling them and he didn’t believe the little he’d heard anyway. But here was a chance to glean information on the enemy and he wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip. “I’m sorry about the hair, Dad. But…if he is going to stay with us, I’d like to know what he’s like. Maybe we can get along better then.”



Harry smiled in relief and ruffled his older son’s dark hair. “That’s a fine idea, James. I can only tell you a little.”



“Like what?” Al demanded.



“Well, he really likes making potions. He’s brilliant at it, really.”



“What else?” James prodded when his father stopped.



“Um…” Harry was appalled to realize he didn’t really know much of anything about his new mate. He tried frantically to remember what he could of his days spent in detention with his hated Potions professor. “He likes to read. A lot.”



Al visibly perked up at this information. “Will he read to us? The way Mummy used to?”



James snorted at that. Harry gave him a quelling look. “He’ll be very busy, Al. He works as a part-time helper and consultant for St. Mungo’s. So he won’t have time for that.”



“What else?” James persisted. “What’s his favorite color?”



“Well…”



“What’s his favorite food? Mine’s chocolate custard,” Al chimed.



Harry racked his brains. This was becoming more complicated than he’d expected. “He’s a very private man. He likes peace and being alone a lot. That’s why you boys should be quiet whenever he’s working.”



James flicked a glance at his little brother. “We’ll try, Dad. What else?”



“Anything else you need to know about him, you’ll learn in time, just as he will be learning about us. Now go to bed, boys. It’s been a long night.” Having dodged the embarrassing question of Snape’s likes and dislikes, Harry hugged his boys again, kissed them on their heads, and got up from the bed.



James was beginning to think they’d gotten away with their earlier prank. Then his father turned at the door and looked at them sternly. “Remember what I said, boys. You’re reversing whatever you did to him and fixing his hair.”



“We can’t fix his hair, Dad. But it should wear off.”



“When?”



James shrugged. “Soon.”



“Soon?”



“Soon, Dad. I promise,” James added.



Harry sensed he wasn’t going to get anything better and decided to let it go. Severus could always wear a hairnet.



He shut the door and sighed. This had been a really trying few days for everybody although, of course, Snape had gotten the worst of it today.



Pink hair. His Mum was right; it was sorta funny. Allowing himself a chuckle at the mental image, he padded to the room he was sharing with his daughter.



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Severus was brooding over his breakfast. The Draught of Dreamless Sleep had been a mistake, he thought in retrospect. Dreams, even the usual nightmares that woke him screaming and bathed in sweat, would have distracted him from the cacophony that had badgered him all night.



The assault had been constant. The first two heads had fallen silent. But the third head had kept up a barrage of mindless, inane tunes that had lasted the entire night. Snape didn’t recognize any of the songs; they certainly weren’t part of any wizard’s repertoire. They were insufferable, meaningless and agonizing bits of aural torture. The worst part was that now some of the tunes were stuck in his head, replaying themselves like Pensieve memories.



It was a brilliantly conceived torture, worthy of a Slytherin. He wondered if he’d been mistaken about his assessment of the likely housing of the twins at Hogwarts.



The bat-things were unstinting in their critique of what they considered to be his basest follies and crimes. They knew every evil deed he had committed as a Death Eater, going over his participation in Voldemort’s mad rites with ugly relish, pointing out again and again his culpability.



It wasn’t his fault! He’d been misled and, by the time he realized the extent of Voldemort’s madness, it was too late to extricate himself. He’d had a choice between sacrificing others or himself. Good little Slytherin that he was, he had chosen to save his own skin.



Such justification didn’t help when he had to listen to the litany of his crimes. He wasn’t a cold-blooded reprobate like Bellatrix Lestrange, the madwoman who had gladly consigned her own flesh and blood to death. That bitch had been willing to kill her nephew, poor Teddy Lupin, simply because he’d been born with the taint of lycanthropy. Severus had no love for the boy’s deceased father, that cur Remus Lupin. But when he thought of the child, robbed of his parents by the war and left in the care of a relative, something inside him writhed.



How exactly like Potter’s plight it was. The heads had carped on that subject, too, bewailing Potter’s orphaned state and hissing how Severus was responsible for it. He couldn’t deny it and the guilt and shame would have swamped him in tears if he still had it in him to weep.



The verbal abuse had taken its toll. He was now mentally and physically exhausted. He could barely stay awake to eat his breakfast…and the babbling heads were there to keep him company.



“Glad to see you can fix your own breakfast. Good to know that you’re good for something.”



“It’s a small world, after all. It’s a small world, after all. It’s a small world, after all. It’s a small, small world…”



He shuddered, nearly choking on this toast. The only thing worse than the castigating duo was the bizarre song selection the third head warbled. It never seemed to run out of material and each song was more banal and idiotic than the last.



He was in the midst of sipping his tea when he heard the floo activate. Debating whether he should run to confront Potter and his hellspawn, he decided he wasn’t going to interrupt his breakfast just for them. Sure enough, he heard whispering and the tread of stealthy footsteps.



“Boys, be quiet. You remember how he reacted the last time.”



“Yeah, we know.” The sullen retort made Severus’s lip curl. Doubtless the little rapscallions wanted to run wild, shrieking their lungs out. But it seemed that Potter was keeping them in line, at least for the moment.



Deciding it was time to make an appearance, he strode from the kitchen and down the hall. He hoped to sneak up on Potter unaware, giving the man a shock. But he was thwarted by the youngest twin, Albus. The boy was casting nervous looks all around him and he stiffened when he saw Severus.



“Dad. The vam—I mean, he’s here.”



Potter turned around. He was holding the little baby girl in his arms; the child was sound asleep by her slumped posture. “Oh, hello, Snape.” He squinted at the man. “You look terrible.”



“Trust you to state the obvious, Potter. Have you managed to wring some measure of discipline out of your ill-behaved progeny or am I going to have to do it for you?”



The anger gleaming from those green eyes was gratifying—for about two seconds. Then they shifted to a kind of pity that made him grind his teeth.



“I see our little side trip yesterday didn’t have any impact.” Potter shook his head. “Never mind. I spoke to James and Albus about your hair. They said the color should wear off in time.”



“And how long would that be? I want a timetable not a vague guess, Potter,” he snarled when his bond mate hesitated.



Potter glanced helplessly at the boys. They shrugged almost in unison, an odd sight. “We don’t know, Dad,” Al mumbled.



“I think about a week,” James offered, his nose scrunching.



“That’s not good enough!” His raised voice caused the sleeping girl to stir with a soft whine. Potter shushed and petted her until she settled down again.



“It’ll have to be. Maybe you could try a glamour,” he offered.



“What an inspired notion! Why didn’t I think of that? Ah, wait, I did,” Severus sneered. “Don’t you think I would try such an obvious solution, Potter? The foul magic your little imps used on me can’t be covered with a glamour, it appears.”



“Oh. Sorry about that.” The brat didn’t sound the least bit contrite and Severus resolved to berate him when the heads started their litany again.



“If you’re so damned smart, why haven’t you gotten rid of us yet?”



The insufferable travesty with Black’s voice had a point. But he wasn’t about to voice it in front of Potter. He would find a way to divest himself of these troublesome haunts without his help. And he certainly wasn’t going to apologize to two impudent little dunderheads to accomplish it!



The third head switched to a shrill falsetto. “Just a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down….”



He gave both boys menacing stares and silently promised them untold agonies for this indignity. Although he’d made grown men cower with that look, neither of them so much as flinched. Instead, they both gave him sly little smiles and turned back to their father.



It was intolerable to be disrespected like this. Well, he couldn’t be bothered to waste time agonizing over the feelings of little children. He had business to discuss with their father.



“I’ve decided that the basement is adequate for my needs, Potter. However, there are certain tools, equipment and supplies that I require. Here is a list.” He shoved a piece of paper at Potter. “You will go to Diagon Alley and have these delivered to the house.”



Potter didn’t take the paper. “I’m not your errand boy, Snape.”



“Do you propose that I go, instead? I’ve done my level best to keep the Wizarding world from learning of my continued existence. Hard to remain anonymous and dead to my enemies if I show my face in public, now isn’t it?” Also, there was no way Severus Snape would be caught dead with pink hair in public.



The brat’s jaw twitched. Clearly, he didn’t care to be sent on tasks for his new husband. But he snatched the paper and scanned the items. “Fine. I’ll go this afternoon.”



“What’s wrong with right now?” Severus asked with a nasty smile.



“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s morning. I’d like to have breakfast with my children if that’s all right with you,” Potter snapped back.



“Do you seriously expect me to believe Molly Weasley let all of you go without a hearty meal?” He made tut tutting noises. “The woman is getting lax in her old age.”



“Whatever. I’m still getting breakfast for the boys just as soon as I put Lily to bed.” Potter turned away from Severus and marched up the stairs. The boys trailed behind him, shooting Severus sidelong glances. There were disturbing smiles on their faces and the chattering from the voices, momentarily thrust into the background by his conversation with his husband, reminded him that the little demons had performed a spell on him that he had yet to lift.



How had they managed such a spell anyway? They were underage and didn’t possess wands. He had scoured the Dark Arts books he’d brought from his home in Spinner’s End but hadn’t seen anything of this nature listed in their places.



He needed to access a larger library than what was available on hand. There was one at the Black manor; the Slytherins there had been devotees of the Dark Arts. But he couldn’t go to Grimmauld Place. He was fairly sure it was warded against him. Then again, now that he was Harry Potter’s husband, the magical wards might allow him entry.



Grinning to himself, he prepared for his trip. He didn’t bother to let his irksome bond mate know he was going.





TBC