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 29: He’s What?!





Severus gave the potion another stir and looked at it critically. The hair restorer salve was coming along nicely. It had formed into a glittering purple, with green tints sparkling in the depths of it. The wild juxtaposition of color reminded him of a certain long-dead Headmaster. The thought caused his lips to twitch faintly.



He wondered what Albus would have thought of his arrangement with Harry. Doubtless, the old man would have disapproved of the way he’d gone about maneuvering Harry into this position. But Albus had always tried to get the two of them to cooperate. So what if this wasn’t quite what the ancient wizard had envisioned?



Such justifications hardly helped him sleep at night. Those damnable heads would have considered it new fodder and he didn’t intend to give them the satisfaction by showing up at the cottage now.



Where was Harry anyway? His grand gesture had been three days ago and the man had yet to appear at the Black manor. Harry had courage—no matter how often Severus had sneered at Gryffindor tendencies, he could not fault the man for that. So why would he take so long to show himself after the tentative truce they’d established? Was he waiting for an invitation?



The purple and green concoction shimmered again but this time it wasn’t the potion causing the effect. For an instant, the whole room appeared to waver, the shining instruments blurring, as if the whole of it were underwater. Severus shook his head to clear his vision, but that made the dizziness worse and this time it was occupied with a sudden surge of bile in his throat.



He stumbled to his workbench and collapsed upon it. Bending his head between his knees, he took deep lungfuls of air, letting them surge in and out, until the incipient queasiness subsided. He raised his head cautiously and relaxed when the contents of the room and his stomach seemed content to stay put.



What had just happened? Did he need his potion again? No, it was too soon after the last draught. Besides, the need had never been preceded by vertigo. Perhaps he had simply spent too much time brewing in an enclosed space; the fumes must have risen to his head. A little rest and a meal and he’d be perfectly fit in no time.



“Kreacher! Kreacher!”



The ancient house-elf appeared, complete with that ostentatious gold locket it constantly wore around its neck. Severus didn’t know why Harry allowed a house-elf to sport such a ridiculous and obviously very expensive piece of jewelry and he’d never cared to ask. At this moment, he found it particularly offensive, its Gryffindor gold ridiculously out of place in the sober dungeons.



“Yes? What does Harry’s bond mate need?” Even though he was shorter than Severus by quite a few feet, the gnarly servitor managed to give the impression that he was looking down his nose at him.



Severus also did not miss the inference. Not once had the house-elf ever alluded to him by name or the honorific “Master”. He was “Harry’s bond mate” as though he were nothing more than a possession of the messy-haired Gryffindor. Even house-elves were disgustingly loyal to the Boy Who Lived.



“I require a meal to be prepared. Nothing too heavy—fruit, sandwiches and tea will suffice.”



“Eating alone as usual then? What a disgrace this is, having a filthy Mudblood taking up space in the Black home. Perhaps he will die soon and Master Harry will have his home back,” Kreacher mumbled to himself.



“That is enough. Fix me that meal, bring it here and then take yourself off.”



The elf did not bow or acknowledge his request. It simply Disapparated.



Severus sighed and settled back to wait. No doubt the disrespectful thing would take its good time before fulfilling his command. Since he’d had the Black home to himself, Kreacher always dragged his heels when it came to dealing with Severus’s requests. When he did perform his set tasks, he did so with an ill grace and that constant conspicuous muttering under his breath.



There was another pop and Severus blinked. Had he slept? He didn’t remember closing his eyes and he wondered at the ache he could feel in his joints and the thickness in his head.



Kreacher was staring at him, a sour expression on his face. “Your food,” he muttered and dropped the laden metal tray with a clang on the bench beside Severus. He went with another pop.



Severus glanced at the plate. The fruit was a bizarre mixture of shriveled grapes, bruised overripe peaches, whole unpeeled oranges and withered, dry looking pineapple slices with the pointy skin still adhering to them. The sandwich held strips of fatty bacon, beef tongue and sodden grayish sauce that oozed on to the plate. He picked up the tea and frowned in distaste to find that it was cold.



When he poked the sandwich, the smell of it wafted to his nostrils and he gagged at the wave of nausea that followed it. Before he could move from the spot, he vomited the entire remains of his breakfast on the dungeon floor.



His body clenched in unstoppable waves as more food came up. Finally, he was shuddering in dry heaves. Several unbearable minutes passed before he was able to stop.



Waving his wand, it took him three tries before he could Banish the entire sloppy mess on the floor and even then the dungeon stank evilly. If he didn’t leave right now, he was going to regurgitate his entire digestive tract.



Severus wiped his forehead, dismayed to find it clammy with sweat. This was more than disgust at the food or need of his potion. He’d been feeling out of sorts for a few days now but had attributed it to overwork. Now he was worried it was something else.



Here was a dilemma. He didn’t dare take his potion; it might exacerbate his mysterious illness. But he couldn’t go too long without it lest he fall into convulsions.



He could take the floo to St. Mungo’s or Apparate. But he didn’t trust himself to wind up at the proper destination, given his shakiness. Who knew where he might land? He might even Splinch himself and that hadn’t happened since he’d first learned to Apparate as a teenager.



Perhaps all he really needed was rest. If he could get himself upstairs and into bed, then he would recover and put this ghastly episode behind him.



But the brew simmering in his cauldron…it needed decanting and it couldn’t wait. He needed to test it (perhaps he’d try pouring it on the head of that damned house-elf) and for that it had to be placed properly within its containers.



Painstakingly, stopping every few minutes in order for the aching and nausea to subside, Severus managed to fill several bottles, even though his hands shook, slopping the potion back into the cauldron repeatedly. Making sure to lock and ward the dungeon, he staggered up the stairs. Feeling too weak to make the journey to his upstairs chamber, he managed to get to the couch in the copious living room.



He collapsed on it and swung his feet up. Without even bothering to remove his boots, he sank into an exhausted slumber.



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Harry opened the front door cautiously, wand at the ready. There had been no responses to his owls and he had no idea what kind of mood Snape would be in. The man had seemed in a good mood at their last encounter in the orphanage. But that had been days ago and, after Hermione’s theory behind Snape’s Jekyll-and-Hyde act, he wasn’t about to take any chances.



There was nothing, not even the appearance of Kreacher. There was no sound and his grip tightened. Snape was a superb spy and Harry was certain his old habits hadn’t failed him. The Slytherin could be lurking in the shadows, ready to fire off a hex at him. Harry silently strengthened his Shields and advanced farther into the house.



Still nothing, not a whisper or flicker of movement. Not for the first time, he was glad that he’d gotten rid of that portrait of Walburga Black. The madwoman’s picture would have doubtless given away his arrival by now if he hadn’t.



Deciding to risk possible hexing, Harry called, “Snape? Snape, where are you? We have to talk.”



Still nothing and now Harry was getting decidedly nervous. Was the man brewing? He’d hate to disturb him if that was the case. But they had let the silence drag on far too long. Whatever lingering ill feeling between them could wait until Harry saw that Severus was taken care of properly.



“Snape?” It looked like he’d have to search for the man. Given the size of the Black manor, that simply wasn’t practical. “Kreacher? Kreacher!”



The wrinkled house-elf appeared in the blink of an eye. It made Harry wonder why the elf was so slow at other times. “Master Harry calls? It is good to see Master Harry. You have not been here—”



“Yes, yes, Kreacher, I know.” The house-elf had a tendency to ramble. It was a good idea to cut him off right at the start. “I’m looking for Severus Snape. Do you know where he is?”



A brief crafty expression came and went on the creased visage. “Kreacher has not seen Harry’s bond mate since Kreacher took him a small luncheon in the dungeon.”



That sounded like truth. But what was Kreacher not telling him? The house-elf might not be able to lie to him but he could hide valuable information. “How did he seem when you saw him? Was he well?”



Kreacher tilted his head as he considered. “He had just finished brewing something in a cauldron. He was likely in good spirits. But he did not tell me the state of his health.”



That wasn’t good enough. He reached out and grabbed a bony shoulder, albeit as gently as he could manage. “Kreacher, take me to Severus Snape,” he commanded.



They appeared in the capacious living room. It took Harry a moment to find his bond mate, stretched out apparently sleeping on the living room couch. “Snape?” he said softly. He approached him and laid a hand on his arm.



The man did not stir. That did it. Something must be wrong if he was able to creep up on a man with such catlike reflexes. “Kreacher, when did you last see Snape?”



“That was some hours ago, Master Harry.”



Why would Snape be sleeping down here instead of in his room and so still? His chest barely rose and fell and, when Harry felt his hand, he was alarmed at how moist the older man’s skin felt.



“Kreacher, Severus Snape is ill. I’m going to floo and get some help for him. Wait here in case she needs help,” he added sternly.



The house-elf retreated to a corner, sat down on the floor and gave Harry a cool look. He never once looked at Snape.



It was late in the evening. He wondered if Madam Pomfrey would be at her post. Then again, students got injured at all hours of the day. He threw the powder in the fireplace and called out, “Hogwarts, Infirmary!”



The fire turned green and he stuck his head in it. Peering around, he didn’t see anyone at first. “Hello? Madam Pomfrey? Are you there?”



The plump woman came bustling into sight, her wimple and gown as spotlessly white as ever. In spite of the years that had passed since he left Hogwarts, the woman seemed no older than ever and a warm surge of affection bloomed in Harry’s chest to see her trustworthy smiling face. “Hello? Oh, Harry! Is that you? It’s wonderful to see you, my dear. It’s been simply ages!”



“Hello, Madam Pomfrey. I have a favor to ask.”



She looked mildly surprised. “A favor? What can I do for you? Are you sick or injured?”



“Not me. It’s Snape. He’s fallen ill and I don’t know what’s wrong with him. I was hoping you could help.”



Her face creased in grim lines. She didn’t appear surprised. “What exactly is his condition?”



“I’m not sure. He’s been taking some kind of potion for his snakebites. I think it’s made him really sick. He’s lying on the couch and he won’t wake up.”



She clucked her tongue. “This was bound to happen. The man would insist on dosing himself!”



“You knew?”



“Of course I knew! I was here when they brought him in from the Shrieking Shack. His wounds were worryingly slow to heal but once he grew strong enough to get out of his bed he insisted on taking off. I suspected he was treating himself after he left my care. I just knew no one could suffer that type of injury and stay on his feet without some kind of artificial aid.”



“Well, he’s unconscious on the sofa. I didn’t want to rouse him without your being here first. If you’re around, he won’t be so quick to dismiss any help.”



“Good thinking. Step aside, Harry.”



She emerged from the floo and spelled herself free of the soot. She peered at the still figure and began running diagnostic scans over the prone body with her wand. “Hmm. Hmmm. Oh dear.”



“What? What is it?” Harry asked in alarm.



“Um, I’m not quite sure. Actually, I’m reasonably sure but I’ve seen this so rarely…” She resumed humming and performing more tests. As her wand hovered over Snape’s abdomen, Harry saw a pale yellowish ball of light forming in the air. The light appeared to pulse faintly like a heartbeat. He’d never seen anything like it.



“What’s that thing? What’s wrong with him?”



She turned and gave him a very odd look. “Harry, you know that I’m not really inclined to believe anything I see printed in the Prophet.”



“That’s…good.” What did that rag of a paper have to do with anything?



“That was the first I’d read that you and Severus were…married.”



“And?” Harry was practically grinding his teeth. He was in an agony of worry. Why was she dragging this out?



She took a deep breath and made a visible effort to order her next sentence. “Knowing how poorly the two of you got on in school, I was rather shocked at the news that you were bonded. Reading how Severus employed a dirty trick to get you to agree to it was less surprising, sad to say. I’ve known how difficult he could be, though I never thought he would stoop to such depths.”



“It near flattened me too, just knowing that he was alive,” Harry responded. He still didn’t know what this had to do with Snape’s illness.



“There was no responding article in the paper from you refuting those claims and, based on my memories of the two of you, I remained convinced that your relationship was one of mutual dislike.”



“Is there a point to this?” Harry nearly shouted.



“Given your feelings toward each other, I’d like to know how Severus wound up pregnant.”



Harry didn’t think he’d heard aright. Pomfrey had said Snape was…what? “Did you say he’s…?”



“Pregnant, yes. About two weeks’ gone by the state of that glow.” She waggled her wand and the floating sphere brightened in intensity to a fiery flare for a moment before subsiding to the butter yellow glow he’d seen previously.



Harry knew he was gaping foolishly but he couldn’t help it. Snape had demanded that he love any child produced of their marriage. But Harry still thought in Muggle terms. In his mind, it didn’t seem possible for a male wizard to give birth. Yet here was Madam Pomfrey claiming Snape was two weeks up the spout!



“But…how…I mean…how can a male wizard…?” he spluttered. “How can he have a baby? He doesn’t exactly have the right equipment, does he?” The heat flared up his skin. That had come out a bit blunter than he liked.



Poppy didn’t seem to mind. “Magic enables him to gestate the baby. As his time approaches, a vagina will manifest itself, enabling him to give birth to the child.”



Harry sat down hard in a chair. “Oh. Merlin. He is going to go spare when he hears that,” he whispered.



“Perhaps I should make up another room as a nursery, Master Potter.” Both Harry and Pomfrey jumped. Harry had quite forgotten that Kreacher was sitting in the room, still as a statue. The house-elf was grinning from ear to ear, the malicious expression from fifth year one that Harry had hoped never to see again.



The older woman apparently hadn’t seen him at all. “Goodness, that’s the oldest house-elf I’ve ever seen,” she said, staring at the feeble looking elf.



“He’s all right. And he’ll help with my bond mate, won’t he?” Harry stressed. Kreacher sniffed in disdain but subsided.



“Harry, you still haven’t answered my question.”



“Well, um, it’s kinda personal. Snape and I had dinner one night, we came home and…” He trailed off, smiling, and made a vague gesture with his hands, implying the rest.



He really didn’t want to go over the wild night that had followed. Let Pomfrey think that he’d lost his head or he and Snape had buried their differences. She didn’t need to know about the drugging.



Harry only prayed that the truth never came out to her. She’d be furious with Snape and that was one scene he wanted to avoid.





TBC