Deligo Sanguis

Chapter Seven

Forgiven

ONE

Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly, trying vainly to keep from having to go up to his dorm to sleep. Ron had been getting steadily worse as the weeks passed, and now that the Yule holiday was upon them, Ron was attempting to convince Harry to go with him to the Burrow. The boy simply wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Damn it,” Harry muttered under his breath.

Just when he thought things couldn’t get worse, Hermione plopped down in the armchair next to him. “We need to talk,” she said without preamble.

“I’m not speaking to you,” Harry replied, rubbing his eyes more vigorously. Perhaps he should have gone up to bed after all.

“Well, I don’t care,” Hermione snapped. “This isn’t about you and me, or even Ron.”

Harry finally looked at her, his eyes wary. “What then?” he asked carefully.

“Something’s going on with you, Harry,” Hermione said. “You don’t want to be friends with us anymore. Fine, but I really don’t think that your schoolwork should have to suffer because of whatever’s bothering you.”

Harry stared at her incredulously. His grades were better than they’d ever been. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

“Oh, you think just because you’ve been ignoring me that I don’t still notice what you do and don’t do?”

Harry just watched her silently, waiting for her to go on.

“You haven’t done a stitch of homework all term,” Hermione informed him, crossing her arms over her chest in satisfaction. “You’re going to fail if you don’t start studying. We have N.E.W.T.s next year, you know.”

“Gods, Hermione, get off it,” Harry muttered. “Just because you don’t see me doing my homework doesn’t mean it’s not getting done. If you haven’t noticed, I’m now second in the class. My grades are better than they’ve ever been, and that’s without your wheedling me every moment you get.”

Hermione was silent for a long moment before she did the one thing that could have weakened Harry’s resolve: she burst into tears.

“Hermione?” Harry asked, bewildered. “Oh, come on, don’t do that.”

“I just w-want us t-to be f-f-friends again!” Hermione wailed miserably. “I t-tried to g-get Ron to t-tell you the truth! H-he wouldn’t l-l-listen to me, a-and now you ha-hate us, and I c-c-c-can’t stand it!”

“Hermione, stop crying!” Harry gasped in a panic.

“W-we were afraid of w-what you w-would say!” Hermione went on as though she hadn’t heard his plea. “R-R-Ron thought t-t-that you’d be an-an-angry with us! He d-d-didn’t w-w-want y-y-you to f-f-feel like a third w-w-wheel! And after l-l-l-last year w-w-when you got a-a-angry so easily, w-w-we d-d-didn’t know what to expect!”

Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up and pulled Hermione into his arms, rubbing her back in comforting circles. “Don’t cry, Hermione,” he cooed. “It’ll be all right.”

“I j-j-just c-c-can’t stand you h-h-hating us!” Hermione cried into his shoulder.

“I don’t hate you, Hermione,” Harry assured her. “I only wanted to protect you. Please stop crying.”

Only Hermione didn’t seem to be listening. “I t-t-told Ron y-y-you’d be a-a-angry if w-we didn’t tell you!”

Harry moved Hermione to the couch and sat her down. “Stay there,” he told her as she continued to cry into her hands. “I’ll be right back.” He left Hermione sobbing on the couch as he crept up to his dorm room. Inside everything was dark and he could hear Neville snoring lightly from his bed.

He crept silently to Ron’s bed, pulling back the hangings and shaking Ron gently. “Hey, Ron, wake up,” he whispered.

Ron gave a little moan and turned over, not waking up.

Harry shook more roughly. “Ron, wake up!” he said again.

Ron sat bolt upright and stared around in confusion. “ ’S matter?” he asked groggily.

Harry pulled the covers off of his friend. “Come to the common room,” he muttered. “I need to tell you something.” He crept back out of the room, leaving Ron looking a bit confused behind him. When he reached the common room, he found Hermione sniffling on the couch but no longer crying.

“What’s going on?” Ron asked behind him from the stairs.

“Just sit down and I’ll explain,” Harry told him. He began to pace in front of the fire as Ron made himself comfortable on the couch next to Hermione, who leaned her head on his shoulder.

TWO

“What’s going on, Harry?” Ron asked when Harry didn’t speak at once.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in every direction. “I can’t do this anymore,” he said, more to himself than to them. “Not if Hermione’s going to cry. It’s not worth it.” He seemed to be talking himself into something. Hermione, who always had an opinion on everything, remained silent, watching Harry’s progress in front of the fire.

Harry only ever paced this way when something big was going on, so it was no surprise to Ron to find himself worrying about what Harry might say. “Go on, Harry,” he said, trying not to dwell on it. “You can tell us.”

“Okay,” Harry said, running his hand through his hair again. “Okay. So… so, yeah, I’ll just tell you straight out, that’s the best way.”

Ron looked at Hermione to find her eyes on him as well.

“Shit, I didn’t want to do this,” Harry muttered. “I hate this.”

“What is it, Harry?” Hermione asked, sounding very shy.

“Erm,” Harry said, glancing at them briefly before returning his attention to the rug. “Okay, I have something very important and very strange to tell you, but you can’t interrupt or I’ll lose my nerve.”

“Okay, Harry,” Hermione agreed. Ron nodded.

“Okay,” Harry said again. Ron couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen Harry so nervous. “So, this summer, when I was at my aunt and uncle’s house, this woman showed up at the door. She was this strange Irish woman who talks really fast, like she’s auditioning to become an auctioneer, you know?”

Ron chuckled but didn’t say anything.

“So, she said she was my mum’s best friend in school and she needed to talk to me about something,” Harry went on, talking rather quickly himself. “She said she wanted to tell me the truth about Mum and Dad and why they couldn’t stay together—“

“But I thought—“

Harry held a hand up. “Don’t interrupt, Hermione,” he reprimanded, though he didn’t sound upset. “Where was I? Oh yeah, so I told her they did stay together, and she says ‘I’m not talking about James, Harry. I’m talking about Severus. Severus is your da, not James.”

“Who’s that?” Ron asked, confused. He remembered someone saying the name before, but he couldn’t remember who it was.

“Snape,” Harry replied.

“Snape!” Ron exclaimed, jumping a little. “You’re—“

“Can I continue?” Harry asked, fixing a glare on Ron. Ron nodded and Harry went on. “I told her she was crazy and she gives me this great stack of papers showing how I legally became a Potter. My birth certificate was there; apparently I was born Harry Evans and then James adopted me so that I’d be Potter instead.”

“Legal papers?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah,” Harry replied. “All kinds of stuff: adoption papers, and things stripping Snape’s parental rights over me. You wouldn’t believe this stack she handed me. She said Snape wouldn’t believe me without proof.”

“You mean Snape didn’t know?” Hermione asked incredulously, straightening up from her place on Ron’s shoulder.

“Well, it looks like he left Mum to spy before she knew she was pregnant,” Harry said. “Dumbledore asked Snape to join up with the Death Eaters and spy for him, so it would have been dangerous for him to stay with Mum, but he didn’t know about me or he’d never have done it. Mum didn’t really understand, I don’t guess, because when she found out she was pregnant she married James.”

“Because it would have been a disgrace to be an unwed mother,” Hermione murmured as though she hadn’t meant to talk.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “It seems that Dumbledore was part of it, because he signed a few of the papers. I don’t guess they would have been able to discredit Snape as a father without Dumbledore’s input. They never would have had any proof that he was a Death Eater otherwise.”

A very strange feeling began to blossom inside of Ron. It felt very much like rage, only stronger and more centralized. It took him a moment to realize that it was a righteous rage directed at Dumbledore for ruining Harry’s life yet again. He didn’t like Snape, but who was Dumbledore to take away someone’s family? Harry might have had a happy childhood if Dumbledore hadn’t interfered. He realized that Harry was still talking and forced himself to pay attention to his friend.

“… to Snape and he believes it. He says he proved the papers are real somehow, but he didn’t tell me exactly how he did that.”

“That’s what it was about, isn’t it?” Hermione asked quietly. “That day in Potions. This is why you did it.”

Harry nodded absently. “Yeah, we needed a reason for me to go see him everyday. He wanted to get to know me, but it would seem fishy if I went there to see my least favorite teacher on a regular basis for no reason. Detention was a perfect excuse.”

“And that’s why you don’t seem to do homework anymore,” Hermione said. “Because you do it when you’re at ‘detention’.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed.

“But, Harry,” Ron said. “You don’t look anything like Snape. Even Mum says you look just like James Potter. How’d that happen if you’re Snape’s son?”

Harry stared at him for a long moment. “You’re not angry?” he asked sounding very surprised.

Ron raised his eyebrows. “Why should I be? You can’t help who your dad is.”

Harry swallowed and when he spoke his voice sounded a bit tight. “Thanks,” he said.

Ron nodded encouragingly.

“Erm, yeah. I don’t look like Snape because of this spell called Dëlîgo Sanguis.”

Hermione gasped. “I’ve heard of that!” she exclaimed enthusiastically. “It’s supposed to be really difficult to cast!”

“Yeah, that’s what Arêthüsa said,” Harry agreed. “That’s the Irish lady,” he explained at his two friends’ confused look. “She said that Transfiguration and Charms were Mum’s best subjects. She helped Mum to cast the spell, actually, that’s how she knows about all of this. If it weren’t for that, Dumbledore would be the only person that would’ve been able to tell me about all of this, and I’m not sure he would have.”

“Don’t you believe it, though?” Hermione asked hesitantly.

Harry sighed again, running his hand through his hair once more. “I believe it,” he muttered. “I’m just having a bit of trouble accepting it. I mean I’ve spent the last five years hating Snape. It’s hard to think of him as my dad.”

“Er, sorry to interrupt,” Ron said. “But, what’s that spell? Deli-what’s it?”

Harry chuckled lightly. “Dëlîgo Sanguis,” he supplied.

“Yeah, that. What is it?”

“Well, it makes a baby look like a man other than its biological father,” Hermione explained promptly. “It only cancels when the child either accepts his natural father or if the child dies.”

“Okay, thanks,” Ron said. He looked back to Harry expectantly.

“How are things going with Snape then?” Hermione asked when Harry remained silent.

Harry shrugged. “Okay. He’s not so bad once you get to know him, but…” He trailed off uncertainly.

“He just doesn’t feel like your dad,” Hermione said for him.

Harry nodded, looking as though he was trying to keep himself from weeping.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said, and moved to engulf him in a hug. “Why did you wait so long to tell us?”

“I didn’t want to believe it at first,” Harry replied, his voice slightly muffled by Hermione’s shoulder. “And then I decided not to talk to you anymore.”

“About that,” Ron said. “Why did you decide that? And why are you talking to us now?”

Harry stepped away from Hermione with a nod of thanks. “I didn’t want to put you guys in danger,” he said. “After last June—“

“Did you really believe that just because you weren’t talking to us we’d be out of danger?” Hermione interrupted. “Harry, even without you as our friend, we’d still be targets.”

“What d’you mean?” Harry asked. Ron was wondering the same thing.

“I’m a Muggleborn,” Hermione explained. “Sooner or later, they’d want me dead. Ron here is a Weasley. His whole family does nothing but piss Death Eaters off. Besides, even if you’d never spoken to us again, we’d still help you if you were in danger.”

Ron nodded his agreement with that. “Yeah, mate,” he said. “We’re not that easy to get rid of.”

Harry looked like he was about to lose the battle with his emotions.

“Ron and I love you, Harry,” Hermione went on. Ron thought it best not to disagree with that, even if it seemed a little girly to say he loved Harry. He couldn’t deny it was true though; Harry was like his brother. “We’d never let anything happen to you. Why d’you think we go along with your hair-brained schemes? We can’t let you go out there alone.” She gestured vaguely toward the window.

Harry nodded, wrapping his arms around his waist. “I love you guys too,” he whispered. Hermione pulled him into another hug, and Ron threw his pride to the wind and joined them.

“Harry, you prat,” he said. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Harry laughed. “I won’t,” he said.

“So you coming with us tomorrow then?” Ron asked, pulling away to stand awkwardly back from his two friends.

“Nah,” Harry replied. “I thought I’d spend the time getting to know Snape a little better.”

“That’s a good idea, Harry,” Hermione approved. “Your first Christmas with your real father. It’ll be good for both of you.”

Harry smiled his thanks. “You guys are leaving early tomorrow. You should get some sleep.”

“You’re the one who pulled me out of bed,” Ron teased. He and Harry said goodnight to Hermione and went up to their dorm to sleep.

THREE

Harry waved as the train pulled away from the platform in Hogsmeade. After he couldn’t see it anymore, he turned and slowly made his way back up to the school. He frowned as he walked. He was fully aware that Hermione had gotten just what she’d wanted by breaking down in front of him. He’d just have to keep his eyes open for any dangers to them, that was all. He felt that he should have gone with them, but he’d already told Snape he was going to stay at the school. He couldn’t very well blow off his father to spend time with his friends. Blood was thicker than water, after all. He scowled deeply at that thought. Someone needed to remind Percy Weasley of that little fact.

When Harry entered the school, he was pulled into a little niche behind the marble staircase.

“Hey, sexy,” Malfoy said, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist.

“Malfoy?” Harry asked, feeling very thrown off. “What are you doing?” He couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t struggling to get out of Malfoy’s grasp; in fact, he’d placed his arms around the Slytherin’s shoulders.

“What?” Malfoy asked with a smirk. “The school’s practically empty. No one will notice.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked, still not removing himself from the blonde’s embrace. “The teachers are still around, if you didn’t notice.”

“Ah, don’t be such a spoil sport,” Malfoy said lightly. “I thought the danger might appeal to your Gryffindor stupidity.”

“You’re a bastard, you know that?” Harry asked.

“Thank you,” Malfoy replied.

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“I know, but I’m going to take it as one anyway.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Was there something you wanted?”

“Many things, actually,” Malfoy said suggestively, pulling Harry tight to his body.

“Something specific right now?” Harry clarified.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Malfoy replied.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

Malfoy sighed in exasperation. “About getting to know each other?”

“Yeah?”

“So, it sounds like a good idea. You’re something of a mystery, after all. I think the only people alive who know anything about you are Weasel and the Mudblood.”

Harry growled low in his throat threateningly.

“Okay, Granger and Weasley,” Malfoy corrected promptly. “Sure, there’s plenty of rumors about you, but I doubt any of them are true. If I got to know you, I’d be one of a select few who do. I’d be part of the elite , so to speak.”

“You’re mad.”

“I know. What do you think? Still want to know me?”

“Yeah. You’re pretty much a mystery yourself. Unless you really are as much of an asshole as you pretend to be.”

“Oh, I’m an arsehole all right,” Malfoy said. “But I’m also many other things.”

“I’m expected in Snape’s office just now,” Harry informed the blonde. “However, if you’d like to pick up this conversation later, I’d be willing to meet you in the usual place.”

Malfoy gave a very put upon sigh. “I suppose that’s acceptable. Wouldn’t want you to get double detentions from Snape, would I?”

“I don’t know, would you?”

Malfoy chuckled. “While it would be amusing, I imagine it would cut into our shagging time, so I would have to say no.”

“I was wrong,” Harry said. “You’re not a bastard, you’re a horny bastard.”

“Too right, I am,” Malfoy agreed.

Harry stepped out of Malfoy’s arms. “I’m going to be late. I’ll see you around.”

FOUR

Severus had been going to walk Harry back from the platform, or at least part of the way, when he heard whispering under the stairs in the Entrance Hall.

Being the stealthy spy he was, he didn’t find it difficult to find out what the two students were up to. He recognized Malfoy’s drawl at once.

“Ah, don’t be such a spoil sport,” he was saying. He sounded like he thought something was funny. “I thought the danger might appeal to your Gryffindor stupidity.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. Malfoy was meeting with a Gryffindor? Malfoy hated Gryffindors; he made it a point to say so several times every day. Half the time when he came to speak with Severus it was to complain about some Gryffindor or another.

“You’re a bastard, you know that?” another boy asked, and Severus was more than shocked to recognize Harry’s unusual tenor. What did that idiot child think he was doing?

“Thank you,” Malfoy said. Severus could practically hear the smirk he knew was on the boy’s face.

“That wasn’t a compliment,” Harry muttered, but he sounded amused, not upset.

“I know, but I’m going to take it as one anyway.”

“Was there something you wanted?”

“Many things, actually.”

“Something specific right now?”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

There was a short silence, and then, “About getting to know each other?”

Severus frowned deeply. Harry wanted to get to know Draco Malfoy?

“Yeah?” Harry asked, answering Severus’ question without knowing it.

“So, it sounds like a good idea. You’re something of a mystery, after all. I think the only people alive who know anything about you are Weasel and the Mudblood.”

Severus had to forcibly keep himself from chuckling when he heard Harry’s growling response to that. He had to try even harder when Malfoy spoke again with slight fear in his voice.

“Okay, Granger and Weasley. Sure, there’s plenty of rumors about you, but I doubt any of them are true. If I got to know you, I’d be one of the select few who do. I’d be part of the elite , so to speak.”

“You’re mad.”

“I know. What do you think? Still want to know me?”

“Yeah. You’re pretty much a mystery yourself. Unless you really are as much of an asshole as you pretend to be.”

“Oh, I’m an arsehole all right, but I’m also many other things.” Severus found the subtle difference in the way the two boys pronounced ‘asshole’ fascinating. Their accents weren’t totally different, but sometimes it was obvious that they grew up in different parts of the country.

“I’m expected in Snape’s office just now,” Harry said, changing the topic abruptly. Severus felt he should probably depart before he was caught, but his curiosity kept him in place. “However, if you’d like to pick up this conversation later, I’d be willing to meet you in the usual place.”

The usual place? The usual place? How long had this been going on that they had a usual place!

Severus then heard a very deep sigh. “I suppose that’s acceptable,” Malfoy said. “Wouldn’t want you to get double detentions from Snape, would I?”

“I don’t know, would you?” Harry asked, but it didn’t sound suspicious, it sounded playful.

“While it would be amusing, I imagine it would cut into our shagging time, so I would have to say no.”

At that, Severus felt it was best to hasten to his office. Shagging time? Had Malfoy been joking about that, or were he and Harry actually shagging? If they were together, then Harry had lied to him about not wanting to date. If Harry had lied about that, then that meant he didn’t trust Severus. If he didn’t trust Severus that meant that they weren’t as close to building a healthy relationship as Severus thought. Severus’ temper began to flare when he thought of Harry lying to him. He slammed the door behind him once he’d entered his office and grabbed the nearest thing he could reach (a pickled slug in a glass jar) hurling it at the wall, where it burst with a loud crash.

A tentative knock caught his attention.

“Come in!” he barked angrily, pacing back and forth in an attempt to ease his temper.

Harry slowly pushed the door open and shuffled into the office. He looked a tad nervous. “Is something wrong, sir?” he asked, eyeing the smashed jar on the floor.

Sir! SIR! There he goes calling me ‘sir’ again! Severus thought angrily. “I’ve told you to use my name!” he snapped. He noticed Harry swallow.

“Sorry, Severus,” he said. “I’m sorry, have I done something wrong?”

“What’s going on between you and Draco Malfoy?” Severus asked, stopping his pacing to glare at his son angrily.

Harry’s eyes widened with surprise. “Erm,” he said.

“Don’t play dumb with me, boy!” Severus yelled. “I heard you speaking with him! What’s going on?”

“Erm,” Harry said again. “We just decided to try to be friends.”

“Friends!” Severus exploded. One part of him knew that he was being irrational, but he strongly disliked being lied to. “Do you shag your other friends, or is it just him?”

The blood drained from Harry’s face. “Shag?” he asked.

“I don’t want you seeing that boy again!” Severus demanded, ignoring Harry’s feigned ignorance. “Do you hear me?”

The blood rushed back to Harry’s face, giving him an angry flush. “Who do you think you are, telling me who I can and can’t see?” he asked.

“I AM YOUR FATHER!” Severus screamed.

“YOU THINK JUST BECAUSE YOU KNOW A LITTLE BIT ABOUT ME, YOU’RE MY FATHER!” Harry screamed back, equally as angry as Severus now. “I’LL SEE WHOEVER I BLOODY WELL PLEASE!”

“HE CANNOT BE TRUSTED! I WON’T HAVE HIM CORRUPTING YOU WITH HIS PUREBLOODED STUPIDITY! I WON’T HAVE HIM TURNING YOU AWAY FROM ME!”

Harry seemed to deflate somehow. “Is that what this is about?” he asked quietly. “You think he’s going to turn me into a Death Eater?”

“I think he’ll bloody well try,” Severus groused. “I don’t want you to make the mistakes I did!”

“Stop shouting!” Harry exclaimed, grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

Severus took a deep breath to calm himself. “How long have you been with him?”

“I’m not really ‘with’ him, per say,” Harry replied, throwing himself unceremoniously into one of the chairs. “We’ve been having sex for a while now, though.”

“You’re not with him, but you’re having sex with him,” Severus muttered, sitting down as well albeit more gracefully. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Harry shrugged. “I haven’t told anyone,” he said.

“I thought you were starting to trust me.”

“It’s not that.”

“What then?”

“I dunno. We were just using each other for mutual pleasure. It’s not like we have feelings for each other or anything. It didn’t seem important.”

“You don’t think I’d find who my son is shagging in his spare time important?”

Harry swallowed again. “Well, it was more I thought you’d overreact about it. I mean, it is Malfoy and you know him better than I do.” He shrugged.

“What else?”

“What d’you mean, ‘what else’?”

“What is the other reason you did not inform me that you were carrying on an affair with Draco Malfoy?” Severus felt his patience starting to wane again.

“Erm,” he said. Severus was getting very tired of that non-word. “Well, I, erm, didn’t know if you’d be, you know, okay with me, erm, sleeping with-with a, ah, boy, actually.”

That had to be the most disjointed sentence Severus had ever heard. “You thought I’d be angry that you’re fey?” he asked incredulously.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Well, I’m not really fey,” he said. “I like girls too. It doesn’t really matter to me, to tell you the truth.”

Severus sat back in his chair. “So you’re telling me that you’re bisexual.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I hadn’t really thought about it until I started shagging Malfoy.”

“I see.” They sat in silence for a long time, Severus observing his son fidgeting across from him. Harry seemed to be expecting something bad to happen to him. “Promise me something,” Severus said at last.

“If I can,” Harry replied.

“Promise that you won’t keep important things like this from me,” Severus said. “If he was trying to lure you into something, and I didn’t know about the two of you, it would make it more difficult for me to keep you safe.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “I’ll tell you the important stuff. I promise.”

Severus nodded. “There’s not much I can do about your… relationship with Mr. Malfoy, so I’m not going to try. I will caution you, however, to remain on your guard around him. I do not trust him.”

“I will, Severus,” Harry replied.

“You may go.”

“Thanks.” Harry stood up and moved to the door. Just as he was about to open it, Severus spoke.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” he said.

“Yeah, me too,” Harry replied. He gave Severus a small grin before disappearing into the corridor.

Severus sat back with a heavy sigh and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Being Harry Potter’s father was an exhausting job.



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Author’s Note: Many thanks to my beta, Katy, for her hard work on this fic.