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 32: Haunted





The next few weeks were…tense, more for the withdrawal of hostilities than the renewal of them. The boys, forbidden to play tricks on Severus, didn’t know how to treat him and stayed hidden in their room, mostly. Severus didn’t act like anything was out of the ordinary. He continued to brew and withstood Madam Pomfrey’s occasional visits and Hermione’s chattering presence with tolerance if not grace. He made no mention to Harry about his condition.



Harry didn’t know what to think. He didn’t understand how Severus could be so calm. He was sure if he’d found out he was pregnant, he’d be all kinds of crazy about it.



Had Severus taken the contraceptive and neglected to tell Harry about it? No, Poppy did a diagnosis on him whenever she came and said that both baby and, um, mother were doing fine. Severus glared whenever she used that word but she had pointed out he was the one carrying the baby. What other word fit?



Severus became more demanding as the days passed. The Potions master treated him the way he would a delinquent student undergoing detention. It was on the one hand comforting, as though they had fallen into their old roles of teacher and student. Yet it was unsettling because Harry knew they couldn’t continue that way.



It didn’t help that Harry had his own troubles to bear, not that Severus ever seemed to notice. For someone who was so watchful, he could be damned self-involved.



There were times when Harry could shrug off the man’s tunnel vision. But this morning…



Harry lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. It was inevitable that this day would come around. But he wasn’t prepared. He couldn’t face it. Maybe he could just lie here and hope the hours would fly by without demanding anything of Harry James Potter.



There was an imperious banging on the door. Harry clenched his teeth, hoping Severus would go away. But the man didn’t take the hint. The banging continued and then he felt the man’s magic as he tried to undo the wards.



Harry dragged himself out of bed and got rid of the wards. The door swung open and his bond mate marched in, already immaculately dressed, not a hair out of place.



He clucked his teeth. “Really, Harry. Lying abed so late? You have no excuse. Shouldn’t you be making ready for work?”



“Severus, I really don’t feel—”



Severus ignored him, pulling out a lengthy piece of narrow parchment. “I have a number of items I vitally need. St. Mungo’s informs me there is an unusual bout of Dragon Pox going around. They have found my remedies to be far superior to what is typically used by their staff and asked me to make up more of my vaccine. You will go to Diagon Alley after work and get these items for me.”



Harry ground his teeth. “Why don’t you get them yourself?”



The taller man raised his eyebrow in that insufferable way of his. “I spent several hours last night brewing, which is why I need more supplies today. I could take Pepper-Up potion and make the trip myself. But Poppy advised me from dosing myself too often now that I am ‘up the spout’ as she so delicately put it. I thought I could rely on you to do this. Was I mistaken?”



“No, it’s just—”



“Good. I’ll see you this evening.” Severus tossed the parchment carelessly on the table and exited the bedroom as abruptly as he had entered it.



Harry clenched his fists. He wanted to yell. He wanted to throw something and scream at the walls.



It just wasn’t fair that he had to put up with this shite. Shouldn’t he be allowed to wallow instead of tending to the needs of one selfish, nasty, inconsiderate, former teacher who seemed to think his bond mate was nothing more than an errand boy?



Harry sucked in a dragging breath and his shoulders slumped in defeat. It wasn’t Severus’s fault really. The man was pregnant and he needed help. He couldn’t be expected to understand or feel Harry’s pain.



After all, it had been over a year and he wasn’t a child. But it still hurt and nothing would make it better. Maybe getting out was a good idea, better than lying in bed feeling sorry for himself. It might take his mind off—things.



So here he was in Slugs & Jiggers trying to get those bloody stupid ingredients Severus insisted he needed so badly. Harry squinted and silently cursed the man’s spiky writing. He muttered, “When he gets better, he can get his own feck—”



“Well, look who’s here! Harry Potter!” The shrill voice made him stiffen and Harry barely suppressed a groan as the avid, bespectacled face of Rita Skeeter thrust itself into his vision.



“Mr. Potter, it’s such a surprise seeing you in public these days. That husband of yours keeping you busy at the home fires, I expect?” she purred, fastening her eyes greedily on Harry.



“Great Merlin, woman, hasn’t anybody crushed you yet?” Harry snapped. His rising voice caused other people in the store to turn around and the usual whispers about him started circulating.



Rita’s smile decayed a little. Miraculously, she had managed to keep her Animagus status hidden from the Ministry. But she was aware that she stood in front of someone who was in a perfect position to expose her secret to the Aurors if he so chose.



“Mr. Potter, I mean no disrespect to you,” she tempered. “Your bonding with Severus Snape is old news by now and no one faults you for it. Death Eaters are so very devious…”



“This Death Eater was working for Albus Dumbledore, Skeeter, lest you forget. Without him, the whole wizarding community would now be under Voldemort’s iron fist. So you might want to show a little respect before printing stories about him that neither he nor I have bothered to confirm.”



Her smile returned, sharklike in its intensity. “Since you’re here, Mr. Potter, I’d very much appreciate getting your confirmation and input. How is your marriage to Severus Snape working out? Is he still the cruel taskmaster many students affirm he was in Hogwarts? How does being his husband compare to the loving relationship you had with your dead wife, Ginevra?”



Beside him, he could hear the spectators surrounding them gasp while those nearest wore looks of sheer horror or pity. Only Skeeter remained indifferent to the reaction she had caused…or maybe this was just what she was hoping for.



Resisting his first impulse to hex her, Harry stared her in the eyes and spoke as evenly as possible. “My marriage to Ginny was everything a happy husband could want. There can be no comparisons to any other relationship, no matter how wonderful. If you’d ever gotten married, you’d know that, Ms. Skeeter.”



He smirked. He would probably regret what he said next but he couldn’t resist. “Then again, who’d want to marry you, you little insect?”



With that, he marched to the counter to pay for his purchases.



There was a stunned silence behind him. Then people began laughing and cheering. No doubt many of them were just as offended by Skeeter’s nasty attitude as they were at her articles.



He kept his features as rigid as possible. But inside he was shaking. Most days he didn’t think about Ginny, a realization that suddenly appalled him. Hearing her name said like this, right out of the blue and on this day of all days, struck him so hard he almost fell gasping to the floor.



He couldn’t make a scene like that, not in front of that loathsome woman. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Harry paid for his purchases and walked out as steadily as he could, ignoring the persistent questions from the clinging reporter.



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



The cemetary was very solemn. In spite of the bright sunlight that spread across its grassy acre, Harry somehow felt cold. He shivered, wrapped his arms about himself and marched to the granite stone that still stood upright after only one year.



HERE LIES GINEVRA WEASLEY POTTER

Beloved Daughter, Wife, Mother

Born June 23, 1981 – Died April 24, 2016



Ginny’s final resting place had been set in the Weasley family plot. Arthur and Molly had stated it was perfectly all right if Harry wanted to have Ginny near his parents. But somehow that hadn’t seemed right to Harry. Ginny had been a Weasley long before she ever became a Potter and the Weasleys name was as good as his. He had insisted she be laid to rest among her ancestors.



When he had said that, Molly Weasley had burst into grateful tears that had lasted well over half an hour.



“Hello, Ginny. It’s me.” He paused. “I don’t know if you can hear me. But I just wanted to talk.”



He absentmindedly cast a Cleaning Charm. In moments, the gravestone shone like it had been newly planted. “I’ve been married to Severus Snape.” He snorted. “Yeah, I know. Sounds crazy to me, too, when I say it out loud. ‘Course, it’s more like being an indentured servant than a marriage.” His voice got softer. “It’s nothing like what I had with you.” He rested his hand on the stone.



“Harry? Harry Potter?”



Harry turned around, furtively reaching for his wand. The voice, partially excited, partially timid, belonged to a man who appeared around his age. His expression—eager, open and guileless—made him seem fairly harmless. He stood a little closer to Harry than he liked, however, so he kept a grip on his wand and smiled blandly at the stranger. “Can I help you?”



“Harry, it’s me! Colin Creevey!”



“Colin?” Harry recognized him, now that he was looking carefully. Merlin, it had been years since he’d seen the other boy. Time had done little to Colin, except that he was taller, thinner and somehow more fragile looking than he’d been in Hogwarts. The mousy hair and pale blue eyes remained the same, however.



The man’s face lit up, his puppyish adoration undimmed in spite of all the passing years. Years ago, Harry would have cringed at the sight of it. Today he felt numb to it all. Still, it was nice to see some things didn’t change.



Colin came closer. “It’s good to see you, Harry—though I guess the circumstances aren’t the best, eh?”



“No, they’re not.”



The conversation died for a moment. Colin shuffled his feet, his hands jammed into his robes. “So…I read the news in the Prophet. You know—about your marriage to Severus Snape.”



“Yes?” The whole Wizarding World knew about that; it was old news. What did Colin have to say about it? The monumental unfairness of it? Harry got a lot of that unwelcome sympathy too, usually from heartbroken women who had entertained hopes of becoming the next Mrs. Harry Potter.



“Tough break that. I remember what he was like from school. Vicious bastard,” Colin spat.



Right, that was a bit rum. Colin suddenly reeked of hostility and unease skittered across Harry’s nerves. “Things are a little better now. He’s not quite as bad as he was in Hogwarts. Teaching didn’t really agree with him.” Harry cleared his throat. “Well, it was nice talking to you, Colin…”



The younger man blurted, “I know this isn’t a great time, but I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind having a pint—with me. Just for old times sake.” Blue-gray eyes peeked up from behind a fringe of fair strands.



“I’m sorry, Colin. Thanks for the offer and all but I really have to get going home.”



A flash of anger sparked in Colin’s eyes. It was gone so quickly, Harry wondered if he’d imagined it. The younger Gryffindor’s face creased in a tight smile. “Sure. No worries. See you around, Harry.”



“‘Bye, Colin.” Harry walked to the gate. He didn’t hear Colin behind him but he felt the man’s gaze trained between his shoulder blades the entire walk.



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



He left the packages on a long shelf in the corridor for Severus to find. Then Harry ran to his room.



He threw himself on to the bed, laid his head in his hands and soundlessly began to cry. He wanted to wail but wouldn’t let himself. If he did that, he’d break down completely.



Finally, the tears ceased. He’d probably do a lot more crying before this day was through but for now he was calmer.



Harry stared at the dresser near his bed. Standing on a small easel was a miniature portrait of Ginny. The youngest Weasley daughter was vibrant and shining with health with her twin babies held in her arms. The image smiled at her former husband.



“God, Ginny, won’t it ever get any easier?” he murmured.



Her smile faded until her expression matched his. He reached out his hand to touch the picture. Behind his eyes, he could feel tears stinging again.



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



Severus studied the various items carefully. Why Harry hadn’t bothered to bring them to the dungeon was a mystery. He could have at least sent the house-elf and spared Severus the trek up the long winding stairs.



Most of the items were there. He frowned when he saw the Manticore venom was missing. Severus had written out a very clear list. Was the brat illiterate along with his other deficiencies?



He shook his head wearily. Perhaps Slug & Jiggers had been out of the item. It was certainly possible. He should give Harry the benefit of the doubt before assuming the worst of him.



Feeling a bite of conscience (really, a most disagreeable sensation these days), he marched up the stairs. He rolled his eyes to find Harry’s door unwarded. Again, the man seemed to have no sense to protect his own skin. He took the lack of wards to be an invitation to enter and swung open the door—



—To find Harry hiding his face in his hands. The man lifted his head when Severus entered but seemed to stare through him blankly. His eyes were suspiciously red. What was bothering him now?



“Severus? How are you feeling?” Harry asked dully, breaking the silence.



“I’m quite well, Harry,” he stated stiffly. His feelings of magnanimity flew out the window. “You neglected to pick up Manticore venom.”



Harry eyed him steadily. “No, I didn’t. The store didn’t have any. I sent out an order to have it delivered by owl as soon as possible.”



“Ah, well, that’s good then. It’s very gratifying that you’re thinking for once.”



An awkward silence fell. “Are you—are you in need yet of your potion?” Harry asked quietly.



“Not yet. Thanks to the help of your friend, Mrs. Granger-Weasley, I have been working on a milder form of analgesic. If anything goes wrong, I’m certain you will be able to get me swiftly to safety.”



“That’s good.” The blank stare resumed. Harry seemed about to say something. Then he apparently thought better of it. “I’m sorry about the Manticore venom, Severus. It should be arriving in a few days. Do you really need Hermione’s help? I could assist in the lab if you’d like.”



“Certainly not, Potter. I remember your ineptitude from school.”



“Fine,” Harry said flatly. “Guess you’re on your own, then. Hermione’s busy at her job; she can’t always take time off to take care of your problems.” His expression had turned sullen. Green eyes wandered over to his bedside table.



A picture of Ginevra Potter sat there. She blinked at Severus but didn’t speak. After a moment, she moved out of the frame, leaving an empty space behind her.



Severus looked back just in time to see the wistful, tender spark in Harry’s eyes vanish. His bond mate seemed to curl in on himself, lose all the vitality he had manifested just moments before.



“Harry, I’ve wondered…why do none of your pictures of your wife ever speak?”



“Ginny and I said all we needed to when she was alive. I don’t need to have her talk to me now,” Harry murmured. “And it wouldn’t be her, anyway.”



Harry had so much love to give, but not to him, it seemed, unless he were under the thrall of a potion. It wasn’t fair that people like the Weasleys, his old school friends, his children, even the oafish Hagrid, should come in for so much of the Gryffindor’s affection yet Harry had none to spare his own bond mate.



He knew Harry hadn’t quite forgiven him for his recent trespass, though some might consider it minor compared to his older crimes. What could he do to rectify matters?



He cleared his throat. “Harry…I was wondering whether I could join you and your children this evening for supper.”



“You want…you want to eat with my family?” Harry gaped. To his credit, he composed himself quickly before Severus could make some withering comment about his moronic look. “Of course. That would be great. I’ll…tell the twins.”



Warn them, you mean. Severus merely smiled, the action oddly tight on his face. Harry didn’t appear to notice.



Harry was staying and he would tend to Severus’s needs. But Severus realized he wanted more than arid duty from his bond mate. He wanted those green eyes to shine on him as they had before. He wanted to take a place in Harry’s affections, not be merely an obligation.



He was leaving the room, deep in thought, when Harry spoke again. “Um, you can leave off your glamour, you know. I don’t mind the scars and it’s about time the children knew what you really look like.”



“That is good advice. I’ll see you at the table,” Severus murmured and eased himself from the room. Once outside the shut door, tension he hadn’t been aware of easing from his shoulders. He didn’t know why but this small concession felt like a victory.



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



“Daddy?”



Harry scraped at his plate, ignoring Albus. Whatever the malaise was that plagued him, it still persisted, casting a gloom over the entire repast.



He had been distant throughout the meal. His children were affected by his palpable misery and were uncharacteristically mute. Even little Lily seemed to divine Harry’s mood. She threw her food, fussed and whined. Harry fed her but with sad smiles that seemed to hover on the verge of tears. This was one of the most depressing repasts Severus had ever known and he could recall Death Eater meetings where someone wound up dead at the end of the meal.



“Daddy? Aren’t we having cake?”



Harry’s eyes slowly came into focus. “Cake?”



“The choc’late cake. For dessert.”



“Not today.” The man’s voice was harsh, so much so that the boys flinched.



“But—”



“Drop it, James. Not today. Maybe…you can have cake tomorrow.”



James’s mouth turned down. “I wanted cake,” he muttered. “Ouch!” He glared at Albus. “Daddy! Albus kicked me!”



“Don’t kick your brother, Al,” Harry said automatically.



Albus leaned towards his brother and whispered furiously in his ear. The hazel eyes went wide. James darted a fearful look at his father and they twins returned to their meal in uncharacteristic silence.



Severus thought hard, his eyes digging into Harry’s face, as he probed the mystery behind Harry’s maudlin mood. He wanted to ask but the closed expression on Harry’s face and the lowering tension at the table forbade it. He desperately wanted to lighten the mood but couldn’t think of a thing to say.



At times like this, Severus truly felt the weight of his inadequacy when dealing with others. How was he to bridge the gap between himself and the Gryffindor whom he had made his mate?



Much as he was loath to do so, it seemed he would have to ask—the twins. How to get them alone without alerting their father was the trick.



Well, there was only one way Severus knew to get children quiet and still in one place. “How would you boys care to come down to the dungeon tonight? You can help me while I brew.”



The twins froze. Harry appeared to come out of his stupor because he turned a bewildered stare on Severus. “What? You want them to help you?”



“Nothing too taxing. But they can handle a few light chores while I prepare the base for the Dragon Pox.”



“Well…” Harry turned towards the twins who were still staring wide-eyed at their stepdaddy. “What do you say, boys? Want to help your father with his potion?”



The two gazed at Severus uncertainly. He didn’t smile; he wasn’t certain he could fake the expression without scaring the two witless. But he managed an innocuous expression—he hoped.



Then James and Albus looked at each other. Clearly they were weighing the disadvantages of working with smelly potions and their strange new daddy with the clear benefits of finally seeing what he did when he was hidden away so mysteriously for most of the day.



They appeared to reach a silent conclusion. “We’ll go!” James cried.



“Can I help stir?” Albus demanded.



“You’re too short to reach the cauldron lip,” Severus drawled. When Albus’s face fell, he added, “But you may help me measure.”



They both grinned. The expression was so much like their father’s; Severus thought it quite…nice.



Harry remained unmoved. He merely nodded his approval and went back to his meal.



Severus had expected more of a response than that. Harry had no idea what Severus meant to do to his children. The man must be more distraught than he realized to be so indifferent to their probable fate at the hand of his awful former Potions master.



All too soon, Harry finished his meal and moved to pick up Lily. Severus would have liked to take her with him, too. But a scampering toddler around his potions and volatile concoctions was a recipe for trouble.



Severus drew away the boys. He was arrested by a whisper so soft, he was certain the twins hadn’t heard it.



“Come on, Lily. Let’s go talk to Mummy.”





TBC