jharad17 - Whelp II The Wrath of Snape

"I still wouldn't hurt him," Black protested. "I'd never . . . even if he's not . . . not even if . . . Albus! You must know! You know me! I held him in my arms when he was just a baby. I changed his diapers. I'd never ever hurt him."

Albus turned to Severus. "Perhaps it would be best to take Harry home now."

Severus wanted to protest, but he knew it would do him no good. Albus already knew his assumptions and fears about Black with regards to Harry, and he would make whatever decisions he wanted, whether or not for Harry's sake. He drew a deep breath, knowing, too, that Albus was right about needing to take Harry away from here. "Very well. Just . . . please don't release him, Albus, if nothing else I say can sway you. I can't worry about him more this night, and neither can Harry."

"I understand. Take Harry to Hogwarts if you prefer. You can Floo to my office from here."

Severus agreed, and stepped to the fireplace. Harry's Kneazle kit darted over to them and he lifted it by the nape to give to Harry to hold. Instead of casting the spell of green light, he took up Floo powder in his right hand. Before he threw the powder down, he told Harry to hold his breath, and the three of them whirled their way to Hogwarts.

After a change of night clothes and a quick cleaning spell, Harry was so tired Severus put him straight to bed, and Severus sat in the chair by his bedside, watching him sleep.

--HPSSHPSSHPSS--

Unsurprisingly, when Harry woke, it was with nightmares. Severus soothed him, rocking him in his arms and whispering that everything was all right, that he was safe from harm and from Black and the Dursleys and everyone. The nightmares were almost the worst they'd ever been, and Severus had to stop Harry from biting into his hand again, but the boy kept moaning, "Sorry; didn't mean to tell, didn't mean to tell, please, I'm sorry, I'll be good . . ."

All Severus could do was remind him where he was, and with whom, and make sure Harry didn't hurt himself, and tell his son he could tell his Daddy anything. Anything at all.

Harry finally drifted off again, but Severus kept him in his lap, resting his cheek atop the boy's halo of soft, black hair, continually whispering to him that he was safe and home.

Later in the morning, when Harry woke for good, Severus pushed him to talk about his nightmare a little, to expel the poison, as it were, and to tell him what Black had done to him as well.

"I had to make him listen ," Harry said. "He kept not listening, Daddy."

Severus noted, once more, that Harry had not stopped calling him Daddy since the night before. Not that he minded -- he preferred it to "Father," actually, since that was what he had needed to call his own father. Or else. But he also realized that Harry had only called him "Daddy" when he was frightened or waking from a nightmare. Thus, he was still scared and probably would be, for quite a while, from this newest trauma.

"That has long been a fault of his," Severus acknowledged. They were sitting together on the chair they often used for story time, since Severus figured Harry would be most comfortable there, and Harry seemed to want to be in constant physical contact with him. He cupped Harry's cheek. "What did you tell him?"

Harry looked away, his whole body trembling. "What I'm not s'posed to. What they tol' me not to."

"The Dursleys?"

Harry nodded, still refusing to look at him. He appeared braced for a blow. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to tell him, but he wouldn't listen. I couldn't let him send me back there, back to them. They'd kill me for sure this time, I bet."

Horrified that Harry might think he would ever have to go back to those people, Severus instantly said, "No, Harry. Never. They'll never have another chance to touch you. Nor will Black." He kissed Harry's forehead. "I'm not angry with you. Not at all." He swallowed hard, hating to say this, but he would, for Harry's sake. "I'm pleased you told . . . someone what they did to you, even if it was Black."

"Really, Daddy?"

"Yes, Harry. I want you to feel safe enough to tell me anything, any time you need to. Remember how our rules here are different from theirs? You must forget their rule about not telling when you're hurt or scared, or when you remember something bad that happened to you. My rule is to share things like that. Remember?"

Harry nodded and relaxed into his arms. His eyes closed briefly. Then, after biting his lip for a moment, he said, "He's sorry, Daddy. I think he's real sorry. And I . . . I don't think he hurt my Mum and James."

For a brief instant, Severus believed it. He could just see Potter and Black, thinking they were so clever to make Pettigrew the Secret Keeper, picking the one man of their foursome whom no one would suspect could trusted with the whereabouts of the Potters and Harry. He recalled, too, the swiftness with which Black was incarcerated, without benefit of a trial and only the forefinger of Pettigrew as evidence the fourth Marauder was dead.

At the time, Black's treatment was the only ray of sunshine in the agonizing horror of the darkest place in which Severus had ever been, with his only love dead, at least partially due to his own actions. He wanted someone to blame. As did everyone in the Wizard community. They had called for blood, and went after Black with a sanguinary fury.

But the moment passed. Severus could never trust Black with Harry, could never trust him to be near his son. He would ward Spinner's End, and ward everywhere else he could against scrying and against Black in every form he could imagine: Grim, human, invisible, everything. He would--

He was interrupted by the voice of Dumbledore, coming from his fireplace.

Naturally.

After he had invited the elderly wizard into his home, and served him tea -- Oh, the irony! -- he pressed Dumbledore for news.

"I have been able to secure Sirius Black at St. Mungo's," Dumbledore said, in far to calm a voice.

"What?!" Severus snarled, then immediately lowered his voice so as not to frighten Harry more; he had wanted Harry to stay in his room whilst he spoke to the Headmaster, but Harry did not want to leave his side, and in fact was still sitting in his lap. He could not blame the boy for clinging to him. "He's not at Azkaban? He did kidnap Harry, recall."

Dumbledore's mouth turned down. "His placement is pending a trial, my boy. He will have a chance, this time, to defend himself -- if he is able -- perhaps with the help of my pensieve in addition to Veritaserum." Dumbledore raised his hand to stave off another of Severus' rants. "I understand your fears, Severus. And, too, I understand the ill will you bear for Sirius, but--"

"He bears even more for me," Severus interrupted, but Dumbledore did not stop speaking, just raised his eyebrows in silent admonishment.

"But he has already spent six years in Azkaban for a crime he may not have committed, an imprisonment which I, for one, pressed for greatly amongst my fellows at the Wizengamot. Please allow an old man to rectify his mistakes."

That took the bite out of Severus' retort. Dumbledore admitting a mistake happened with the frequency of Halley's Comet passing earth. Still, he had a few arguments left. He put a protective arm around Harry's waist, but Harry was already tense. "I don't want him near my son."

"Now, do not be too hasty, my boy."

"Hasty? Are you attempting a joke, Albus? I tell you, I am not in the mood for levity."

"Not at all. I simply think that perhaps Harry should have some say in whether he wants to see his godfather."

"Black is not Harry's godfather!"

"That may not be the truth. Please understand--"

"There is nothing to understand," Severus hissed. "James had no right to assign Black to that role."

"But he did," Albus said, folding his hands together on his lap. There were high points of color on his cheeks, a rarity all its own. He nodded toward Harry. "Though he is your son, Harry was born into an existing marriage. Technically--"