jharad17 - Whelp

A friend, at Hogwarts! And with no silver canes around at all. He still needed to watch out for Mister Filch, but with Draco here, he would have someone to play dragons with, and they could watch out for the mean man together. "Yes, sir. I'd like that."

"All right then. I'll send a note round tomorrow, and we'll see if he can join us next week for a couple of days."

Harry leaned back and looked into his father's face. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome. Now, go get changed into something suitable for outdoors, get your broom, and I'll take you out flying, all right?"

Squeezing his father in a excited hug, he shouted, "Yes, sir!" and ran into his room to do just that.

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TBC . . .with more Hogwarts, more Draco, and more . . . trouble?

A/N:For anyone who was confused about the punishment Filch met with – and whose questions I've not already answered in response to reviews – Severus cursed him by removing his arms. The spell has a month-long duration, unless Snape reverses it, which he has intention of doing at this time.

I hope this chapter answered most concerns about why Snape would divulge to the Malfoys that he's adopted Harry Potter. If not, let me know and I'll try to make it clearer in the future.

Once again, I want to thank the reviewers who give of their time to let me know how much they're enjoying this story. I try to respond to everyone, especially if you have specific questions that haven't been addressed adequately in the text, or things that need correcting (like what kinds of snakes are in Britain thing, or how to spell Narcissa's nickname; D'oh!). Also, if there's something you want to see that I haven't covered, or plot bunnies I might be able to tackle in the future, please let me know. This story is pretty open wide to future ideas! And thanks, too, to all other readers, even if you don't have the time or inclination to review. Hits (now at over 60,000) are very cool, too!

*Chapter 18*: Chapter 18

Whelp -- Chapter 18

By jharad17

Disclaimer: I'm not blond, nor rich. 'Nuff said.

A/Nat end.

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Over the remainder of the weekend, Harry must have asked Severus at least twenty times if he had yet sent the request for Draco to come and stay. Whilst he was very glad that Harry was starting to feel comfortable asking him for things, especially things for himself, by the time he finally got around to sending the thank you note for tea, along with the request, on Sunday afternoon, he was quite ready to tear his hair out. But then, Harry just had a new thing to ask about: had the Malfoys responded yet?

In between these questions, the boy chattered on about the game of Wizard chess and Draco's broom and how funny his new friend was, and Severus was too grateful to see him more animated than he'd been since being taken from the Dursleys, to mind overmuch. Still, he was more than weary when bedtime rolled around Sunday night.

As had become their ritual, Severus tucked Harry in after he'd had his shower, dressed in clean pajamas, and brushed his teeth. He brushed the boy's hair off his forehead, briefly exposing the lightning scar. Harry caught his hand, and held it still, while his bright green eyes searched Severus' face.

"What is it, child?"

"I love you, Daddy," Harry whispered.

Severus caught his breath as bands of steel wrapped around his chest. How could he feel so much for this child, in such a short time? He felt his lips curve up in a smile, and he curled his hand to cup the boy's face. "I love you, too, Harry. Time to sleep, now. Tomorrow will be busy."

Harry smiled back. "You always say that."

"It's always true."

"Tell me a story about Hogwarts tonight, Father. Please?"

"All right, then. Settle in." He waited while Harry curled into his customary position on his side, knees drawn up to protect his belly. "Ready?" At Harry's nod, he started, "When I first came to Hogwarts, I was met at the train, like all first years, by a giant of a man named Hagrid, with a bellowing voice but as genial a disposition as you'll ever find . . ."

"What's geenal?" Harry interrupted softly.

"Genial. It means kind, Harry. Hagrid is a very kind man."

By the time he'd finished a particularly poignant -- in his opinion -- tale of the dangers of Hagrid's obsession with dangerous beasts when mixed with the curiosity of young new students, Harry had already drifted off. Severus smoothed the dark hair out of his face again, and briefly touched his lips to the child's forehead. Never mind his own feelings, how in the world had Harry decided that he, Severus Snape, was worthy of trust. Of love ?

It made his heart ache for Lily, and for her son. His son, now. After spelling on the ball of light on the bedside table, he set the charm that would let him know if the boy woke or suffered any bad dreams, then rose and quietly made his way to the door. There, he turned back and watched Harry in his tangle of covers. As he'd told Albus, Harry did not look much different to his eyes than before the blood ritual that bound them, father and son.

But what, then, had caused the pain that had woken the boy from sleep that day? In the dim shadow cast by the nightlight, Severus watched his son sleep, and considered his slim nose and lips, and the arch of his brows, and Albus' enigmatic words, "He could be your son."

Turning from the room before he drove himself madder still with questions, Severus went back to the well appointed sitting room, selected one of the books he had already unpacked and settled in to read. These were questions that he was sure Albus had the answers to, and he would get them from the Old Codger, and sooner, rather than later. Without even thinking, he summoned a glass half filled with Ogden's finest brandy and took a long swallow. The rest of the glass he sipped at slowly as he paged through his book.

Harry managed almost two hours before the alarm went off, and Severus upset the glass of brandy as he jumped out of the chair. Not stopping to clean, he tossed the book down and rushed to his son's room to wake him from his newest night terror, ready to give him the comfort and reassurance of his arms.

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The woman's cries cut off with the flash of light, and Harry screamed, "Mum!" but it was too late; she was dead, one arm outstretched on the floor, reaching for him, always reaching for him.

Red eyes bored into his, and a man laughed jabbing his wand in Harry's face. He tried to bat it away, but the man spat horrible words, and there was more green light and pain and screaming, except this time it was his own voice, and his head was exploding into pieces all covered with blood that got all over the telly, which had a fashion program on. Blood spattered the pink and yellow dresses, white shoes and clean white faces of the models, and one of them was Aunt Petunia and she was shouting, "Not on my nice clean rug!"

The telly grew bigger and wider until it was Uncle Vernon, and the Silencing must not have worked since Uncle Vernon was yelling at him to, "SHUT UP!" and he tried to, he did, by biting his own hand. But his head hurt, everything hurt so bad, and he knew he was still making sounds, so to stop them, he bit down until his mouth was filled with blood. But Uncle Vernon was there, grabbing him and yanking on his arm, and he'd been drinking, Harry could smell it all over him, and he knew he was in for it now, and he curled into the smallest ball he could and protected his head and waited for the hurt to be over.

Some time later, he realized he wasn't hurting so much, really, except for his head and his hand, and someone was holding him, rocking him, and saying his name softly, almost a whisper. He couldn't smell the drink anymore so maybe Uncle Vernon was gone.