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Of His Own Accord

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“Let me know if you’ve forgotten anything, and I can owl it to you,” Neville said clutching Harry’s broomstick as Harry floated his trunk behind them.

“Thanks, it’s not long until the end of Term, we should meet up, maybe go out for a drink.”

Neville nodded glumly. His parents didn’t like him drinking, and Harry wasn’t sure when he’d see his friend again. In the distance, Ron Weasley was lounging against a tree, watching Harry leave. Usually Weasley would have been scowling at him, or muttering some petty little insult, but now his face was blank. Harry supposed that even Weasley could put aside his jealousy for a while.

“Yeah,” Neville said, stopping as soon as they got to the gates and shuffling awkwardly. “I am sorry, that you have to leave early, and, and for what’s happening.”

Harry nodded and took his broom from Neville. He didn’t feel sorry, he hadn’t felt anything but a dull ache ever since he’d received Remus’ letter, telling him to come home as soon as his NEWTs were over as he had a special dispensation to leave Hogwarts before the end of Term.

It seemed strange to leave the place he’d spent most of the last seven years of his life like this, with so little fanfare. Once he Apparated away he wouldn’t be a student anymore. Neville stuck out his hand for Harry to shake.

“You could owl me, even if you haven’t forgotten anything, if you just want to talk about anything.”

“Thanks, I will,” Harry said releasing his hand and preparing to Apparate. He didn’t think he could talk to Neville though, his home life was too perfect to understand what Harry was going through. “Bye!”

“Bye, Harry!” he heard Neville yell as he Apparated to Potter Parva, a large house in the middle of acres of land that had been been owned by the Potters for hundreds of years. The wards would have let him Apparate directly into the house, but Harry had had it drilled into him that it was good manners for him to arrive just outside the house.

“Masters Harry!” Whimsy the house elf squealed in delight, flinging open the back door and running towards him. “You is home!”

“Hi, Whimsy,” Harry grinned, Whimsy was always pleased to see him.

“They is waiting for you in the kitchen, Master Harry. So sad!” The house elf’s protuberant eyes glazed over with tears, his bottom lip quivering dangerously.

“Er,” Harry began, trying to distract the house elf before he started crying, “Could you take my stuff up to my bedroom?”

“Ooh, yes! Yes, Master Harry!” Whimsy gave him a look of blind adoration and, putting one hand on his trunk, clicked his fingers and disappeared, take Harry’s school luggage with him. Harry’s broomstick was still in his hands though, he’d forgotten to give it to Whimsy.

Going into the kitchen, he was greeted by Peter and Remus.

“Hello, Harry,” Remus said, standing up when he saw Harry come in.

“We expected you hours ago,” Peter added, there was an empty plate in front of Peter with the congealed remains of what might once have been a fried egg. It seemed grotesque that Peter was down here eating his Dad’s food at a time like this. He’d never understood why his Dad liked Peter so much, but then, there was a lot about his father that Harry didn’t understand.

“Hi,” Harry said slowly, leaning his broomstick up against the wall. “I left as soon as Dumbledore gave me permission.”

“That’s fine,” Remus said with a tight smile, “Come on, let me take you upstairs.”

Harry swallowed, he wasn’t sure that he was ready to see his father yet.

Remus put a hand on the small of his back and guided him out of the kitchen and up the main staircase, his hand falling away as they moved.

“I’m glad that you made it back in time, he’s been asking for you constantly. Harry,” Remus, paused, his tone becoming even gentler, “Harry, he doesn’t have much time left. We thought, with potions, we’d be able to hold off the Curse for longer than this but you should say goodbye, do you understand?”

Harry nodded mutely. It had been what he’d been steeling himself to hear ever since he’d got Remus’ letter. He knew he was supposed to be sad, to be grieving, but he couldn’t find it in himself. Instead, he felt guilty that his father was dying and he didn’t feel anything.

Remus opened the double doors of his Dad’s bedroom. The Healer was standing by the bedside and, oddly, a small goblin was perched on a chair near the bed. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Remus shoulders stiffen in surprise at seeing the goblin.

The duvet had been smoothed down, so that the bed looked flat except for the outline of his Dad’s body, his withered head sticking out of the covers and his prematurely aged hands lying limp and grey on the pristine white of the sheet.

“Mooney?” Dad called, “Is that you, old friend?

“Yes,” Remus’s voice cracked, “I’ve brought Harry to see you, like you wanted.”

“Ah,” Dad sighed and Harry could hear disappointment in his father’s voice, an echo of every time that Harry had proven he wasn’t good enough. “Will you leave us, Mooney? I must talk to Harry alone.”

Remus nodded, before realising that his friend might not be able to see him.

“Yes, of course.”

As Remus shut the door, Dad began to cough, great heaving coughs that seemed to rob him of his breath. Finally the Healer put a white handkerchief to his mouth and Dad stopped. Harry saw, as the Healer moved back, that the handkerchief was now stained with blood.

“Come here, Harry.”

Harry came into the room and settled himself down on the bed. He reached out to take Dad’s hand, his fingers curling lightly around Dad’s palm. The hand twitched and moved away. Dad did not want to hold his hand.

“There’s something I should have told you a long time ago. I suppose you will think that I have been unfair to you,” Dad’s voice was quiet but his breath sounded loud even in the large, opulent room. “I have always tried to love you.”

Harry hung his head, and put his outstretched hand on his lap.

“I loved your mother very much and we were engaged almost as soon as we left school.”

Harry nodded slightly. His mum had died when he was a toddler, leaving Dad to raise Harry by himself. Harry had always assumed that his father’s attitude towards him had been caused by resentment - he’d been trapped, forced into playing the role of father at such a young age.

“Just before the wedding, we fought. It was such a silly argument but I was young and wild. I told her the wedding was off. The next day I’d calmed down and begged for her forgiveness. She agreed and we were married within the week. Nine months later you were born, but it was obvious, from the second I saw you, that you were not my son.
“Lily confessed that she had slept with someone else the night that we had argued. She told me how much she regretted it. How sorry she was. And I forgave her. I was as much a father to you as I could be. I adopted you, by blood, so that you would look like me, so that you would be made a Potter.”

The goblin sighed, breaking the spell of Dad’s tale. Harry looked up him numbly and the goblin stared back, his hard eyes glinting.

“Harry,” Dad’s voice was strained, his breath coming in short gasps. “I don’t have much longer and I feel the weight of my ancestors pressing down on me, the burden of the Potter name. I can’t go on, I can’t let you carry on the line. I’m not a cruel man, Harry. I’ll make sure you’re looked after. But I can’t let you take the Potter name.”

Harry sat back. It almost felt like a relief. It wasn’t his fault that James had never loved him like a father should. He wasn’t really a Potter at all.

The Healer gave a little cough to get his attention and stepped forward to offer Harry a small vial of dark green potion.

“What is this?” Harry asked with a frown.

The Healer opened his mouth but his father’s frail voice spoke first.

“It will undo the blood adoption. You were never supposed to look like this, Harry. This will let you be yourself.”

The Healer nodded and uncorked the vial. Harry looked back at James, as he understood now what James wanted to do and how utterly James was rejecting him.

Harry’s lip curled in a burst of anger: James had never loved him, this was no greater a rejection than the years he’d spent ignoring Harry; refusing to spend time with him; not wanting Harry to come home over the school holidays. He’d spent so long wanting this man to love him and now it just seemed like such a waste. Harry took the vial and swallowed the potion in one gulp.

“There won’t be any immediate tangible effects,” the Healer murmured, “But the physical change should begin tomorrow morning and develop over the next week. Magically, any wards or spells based on the Potter blood will stop affecting you within a few minutes.”

“Mr Potter?” The goblin stepped forward, his stubby grey fingers clutching a scroll. Harry looked at him, but realised that he must be talking to James Potter. Harry wasn’t a Potter anymore. “I need you both to sign this.”

He unrolled the very top few inches of the scroll, revealing two dotted lines and produced a small feather quill. James didn’t move so the goblin had to rest the scroll on the bed, by his hand and stuff the quill between his fingers so that James could scratch a mark onto the parchment.

“What is it?” Harry asked as James signed.

“A contract that guarantees you a monthly stipend in exchange for not contesting the rightful Potter heir's claim,” the goblin said clinically as he put the scroll in front of Harry.

“This,” Harry took the quill, “This is what you want? Everything will go to your cousin.”

James had not spoken to the only other Potter since before Dumbledore had killed Voldemort, almost twenty years ago. James had said he’d never have anything to do with anyone who sympathised with the Death Eater movement.

James closed his eyes. “It’s the lesser of two evils.”

Harry signed, using only his first name. He just wanted to get out of this room and away from this man. He stood up and the Healer stepped back to let him walk away. Harry made it to the door before he turned around.

“Who is my father?”

James took a deep breath and then there was silence. Harry waited, not sure if the man was dead or not.

“Severus Snape,” James rasped with his final breath.

Chapter Text

The little bedsit just off Knockturn Alley felt even smaller now that it was crammed full of the remaining Marauders. Sirius and Peter sat awkwardly on Harry’s lumpy bed, whilst Remus sat stiffly on the only chair. Harry himself hovered in front of the fireplace, his hand resting on the mantelpiece, refusing to conjure another chair for himself.

“Harry,” Peter said in a sugary tone. “You have to come to the funeral.”

Harry gritted his teeth and stood his ground.

“Do you know, when I signed the lease on this place I tried to sign my name but the word Potter kept on dissolving, the ink just slipped away. I had to write Harry Evans instead.”

“Look,” began Sirius with a frown, “I know what it's like to be rejected by your family - ”

“No,” Harry interrupted, “You don’t. You turned away from your family because they were Dark, they loved you.”

“James loved you,” Remus said in his calm voice, always trying to play the peacekeeper. “He was ill, Harry, but don’t let the madness he fell into at the end of his life destroy all your memories of him.”

“You could fight it,” Peter added. “I’m sure the Wizengamot could overturn the contract. Goblin contracts are overruled all the time!”

“I don’t want it overturned,” Harry said heatedly. “I won’t take a knut of James Potter’s. If I’m not good enough to be his son then I won’t take anything else of his.”

“You’re being unreasonable, Harry,” Remus spread his hands over his knees. The bedsit was draughty and his joints were probably sore so soon after the full moon. “He would have wanted to provide for you, no matter what got into his head at the end.”

“Unreasonable?” Harry said bitterly, his lip curled into a snarl and Sirius flinched, “He’d rather leave everything to Ignatius, who is a Pureblood fanatic who may or may not have the Dark Mark!”

Sirius and Remus exchanged a long look that infuriated Harry further.

“Did you ask James about your biological father?” Remus asked quietly. Harry stood up straight, aware of a sudden change in the atmosphere in the room.

Peter giggled, his laugh oddly childlike. “That doesn’t matter, you’ll see. I can go with you to Gringott’s if you like. We’ll register a complaint and make them repeal - ”

“Peter!” Sirius spluttered, elbowing him in the ribs. “Stop it! We all read the contract. There’s nothing we can do about it, stop giving him false hope.”

“I’m not,” Harry began, “I’m not James son, and I won’t take anything from him, or his estate.”

“You know,” Remus was looking down as he spoke. “James really did hate Ignatius.”

Sirius spared him a glance before turning to look appraisingly at Harry.

“Yeah,” he said thoughtfully, “Yeah, he did. Did you ask him who your real father was, Harry?”

Harry didn’t answer, hoping that someone else would jump in and fill the silence. It had been two days since James had died and Harry hadn’t noticed any significant physical changes but he had been doing a lot of thinking. Maybe James hadn’t rejected him just because he wasn’t Harry’s true father, maybe he’d rejected Harry because he thought Severus Snape was even more despicable than cousin Ignatius. If he told James’ friends the name of his real father, then maybe they would reject him just like James had.

“Oh, well, you can always find out later,” Peter said, misinterpreting his silence. “You can always get a familial trace done at the Ministry. I suppose you’ll have to wait to make sure that the potion’s finished working, but that’s just to the end of the week, isn’t it?”

Harry nodded, too busy watching the silent communication between Remus and Sirius. He had a profound sense that they had already guessed who his real father was.

Sirius stood up suddenly. “You should come with us, anyway, the funeral won’t be long. You’ll end up regretting it if you don’t.”

Remus stood too, his knees cracking. “He’s right, Harry. I know that emotions are running high at the moment, but at least say goodbye to James.”

“Oh,” Peter said, looking round in surprise, “Are we leaving now?”

“Yes, Wormtail,” Sirius snapped, offering his hand to his plump friend.

“I’ve already said my goodbye to him,” Harry said, opening his front door to let James’ friends out. Remus put a hand on his shoulder and looked him full in the face, yet somehow didn’t quite look him in the eye, as if he were examining Harry for any signs that his true heritage was revealing itself. He probably was, Harry thought with dismay as he shrugged off Remus’ hand.

“Remember I’m only a few streets away, if you need anything,” Remus said quietly before stepping onto the landing.

“As am I!” Sirius said with a rather forced grin, “And I’m your Godfather, so you come to me before going to Mooney, alright?”

“Sure,” Harry tried to smile back, but all he could think about was whether Sirius still counted as his Godfather, now that he was no longer Harry Potter.

Peter patted his arm as he passed and Harry could finally close the door on them.

“Well?” Harry could hear Remus ask as the trio traipsed down the stairs, each floorboard creaking. “Do you think he looks like him?”

Harry opened his door a crack, trying to hear the rest of the conversation.

“I don’t want to think about it,” Sirius snapped, loudly enough that his answer carried clearly, straight to Harry’s ears.

Harry crept out of his bedsit, tip toeing along the hallway so he could continue eavesdropping.

“Who?” Peter asked,

“Snape,” Remus said.

“Snape? But he never mentioned it to me!”

“Why would he saying anything to you?” Sirius asked belligerently. “You weren’t exactly in the same social circles!” And with that the three of them went out into the street and Harry could hear no more.

Chapter Text

“Oooh dearie, big day is it?”

“Huh?” Harry grunted questioningly at his mirror as he leaned forward to look at his face. It was definitely not that same one that he had fallen asleep with the night before.

“Don’t you know Beauty Spells are only skin deep?” the mirror twittered inanely. Harry tilted his head back and forth, trying to pinpoint what exactly was different. His nose was more defined than it had been, his lips redder and his green eyes were larger. His cheekbones, which he’d never been aware of before, had become pronounced. He was, Harry concluded, prettier than he used to be; a rather feminine looking stranger. He carded his hand through his hair, which was still dark, but had lost its normal stiff and brittle texture. No matter how many times Harry put his hand through it, his hair wouldn’t stand up like it usually did.

Giving it up as a bad job, Harry made himself some tea and toast for breakfast and settled down to scanning the Prophet for jobs.

Slug and Jiggers were looking for a new clerk and they wanted someone with an Outstanding in Potions. Slughorn had told Harry that he probably would get an Outstanding, but he didn’t have any of his NEWT results yet. They also wanted someone with experience, and Harry had never had a job before. There were only two jobs that didn’t require any experience:

Quimcock’s Coffee and Muffin Shoppe is expanding! New position opening up for an eager young wizard who is good with his hands!

Manglewurzle farm looking for someone to help around the farm. No experience necessary, but must be willing to learn Harvesting spells, finer points of Exploding Sheep husbandry and not too worried about keeping all of your limbs.

Harry sighed. Neither of the jobs appealed to him. He didn’t really want to risk losing a finger working with Exploding Sheep, not whilst he still had enough of his own savings to pay for a few months rent, as long as he was frugal. The other job was tempting; he didn’t have any of a muggleborn’s squeamishness when it came to sex work, but he did lack experience. The advert hadn’t said it was necessary, but Harry wanted his first experiences to be for his own pleasure, because he liked someone not because he was being paid.

He turned the page, the jobs listed here were for skilled workers looking for professional positions offering ridiculous amounts of money. It would be brilliant if he could get one of these jobs, but he didn’t really have a chance. He was skimming through when he saw it: the name Severus Snape.

He stopped, dead still and re-read the name, memorising the way the it looked, written out like that. The advert was for a lab assistant position in one of the big potions companies.

Tavistock Premium Potions is looking to hire a lab assistant who will have completed at least one degree in Potions, with a heavy emphasis on Crystallisation theory; preferably with a Masters in Potions or Compressible Liquids. The successful candidate will be cognisant of ALL twenty three of the magical measuring systems, able to brew all five thousand and six of Mercher’s Fundamental Potions from memory.
The successful candidate will be working under Director Severus Snape. Long hours are to be expected, weekends off are not. Twenty thousand Galleons a year.

Applicants should send notice to Miss Fotheringay-Phibbs, at the Tavistock Offices, 12 Rosehip Mews, London.

Harry read the notice through a few more times and then cut it out of the newspaper with a spell. He hadn’t even decided that he would go in search of his real father, but he tucked the newspaper scrap into his pocket as he got ready to go out.

Slug and Jiggers was only just opening up when Harry arrived to ask about the job. The manager took him into a cramped little office to interview him.

“You’re a bright looking young lad, and at any other time I’d say the job was yours. The problem is we’ve had a complaint. The director of one of our main suppliers came in last week, and the clerk was, well, he wasn’t as knowledgeable as the director thought he should have been. The poor lad was in floods of tears, he quit on the spot and the director threatened to stop selling to us unless we got a more qualified clerk. So, I really do need someone with more experience.”

The manager took a handkerchief from his sleeve and dabbed at his brow.

“Oh,” Harry slumped, “It’s just, I really do need a job.”

The manager put his hankie away and gave Harry a pitying looking.

“Maybe, in a few weeks, you’ll have your NEWT results and this will have blown over. Come back then and I’ll let you know if I can find anything for you.”

Harry grinned

“Thank you, sir! I’ll be back next week!” He reached out a hand to shake the man’s hand.

The manager smiled slightly and took his hand.

“Make that a fortnight, and I’m not making any promises, mind you.”

It was best news that Harry had had since he’d left Hogwarts three days ago, and at any other time he would have gone to the pub to celebrate with a butterbeer. Nowadays he couldn’t afford to fritter money away like that. He turned to walk back, almost walking straight into a witch.

“Harry?” the woman said, putting a steadying arm on Harry’s elbow. For a second, he didn’t recognise the middle-aged woman in bright Auror robes, but then she smiled at him and he realised that this was Neville’s mum.

“Oh, hello, Mrs Longbottom. Sorry,” Harry said, stepping back a bit.

“Busy morning, Harry?”

Harry shrugged. It wasn’t that he was envious of Neville’s home life, but their lives were similar in so many ways, it was easy to compare them. Both Harry and Neville’s parents had fought against Voldemort, they were born within days of each other and both had been brought up surrounded by Pureblood culture, and yet, Neville’s homelife seemed to be perfect. He always smiled when he spoke about his parents.

“I heard about what you’ve been going through,” Mrs Longbottom said, her smile dropping. “And I’d really like to help you. If there’s anything I can do, you will let me know, won’t you?”

Although he recognised Mrs Longbottom from glimpses at King's Cross station, he’d never had a proper conversation with her before.

“That's, really kind of you, I’m doing alright though.”

“Of course, of course,” Mrs longbottom said in a soothing tone that felt patronising to Harry. “It’s just, there was a time when your mother and I were very close. I’d hate to see anything happen to her son and not do something to help.”

Harry pursed his lips. Where had she been for the last fifteen years?

“That’s,” Harry began. He didn’t want to tell her she was kind again, because if she were really kind, if she had really cared what had happened to Lily’s son then she wouldn’t have left him to be raised by a man that hated him. “I’m fine, really, I just got offered a job!”

“A job?” Mrs longbottom said in surprise. “Neville said you were thinking about joining the Aurors?”

“No,” Harry said stiffly. It had been James’s ambition that Harry become an Auror, “No, I don’t think that’s for me. I’d better get going, but thank you.”

Mrs Longbottom smiled again.

“Goodbye, Harry,” she said softly, raising her hand and turning slightly to wave him on his way.

After walking for a few seconds, Harry looked back and saw that Mrs Longbottom was still watching him. He ducked down a small side street, wanting to avoid her beady eye and overbearing kindness. He’d never been down here before, even though he thought he knew Magical London well. Looking around at the odd little buildings that looked more like stables than offices, Harry spied the street name: Rosehip Mews!

This was the street where his real father worked!

Harry took the newspaper clipping out of his pocket. His hand was shaking so much that it was difficult to unfold the paper. He hadn’t intended to come here, but now that he was here he had to go a little further.

Number Twelve had a large door painted Slytherin green. Harry knocked on the brass door knocker, and there was no answer. Plucking up his courage, he twisted the door handle. It wasn’t locked, the handle turned in his hand and the door swung open.

Inside there was a very expensive waiting room, lined with fashionably uncomfortable chairs. An elderly secretary was looking over her glasses at him, scowling at him from behind her desk. Clearly, she was expecting him to state what exactly he was doing here. Would it be so bad if he met Severus Snape? If he just found out what his real father looked like?

“I’m here to see Severus Snape,” Harry said. He hadn’t said the name out loud before and it felt strange on his tongue. The annoyed looking secretary was slightly mollified.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked him up and down, stopping when she saw the newspaper advert in his hand.

“Applicants were supposed to owl ahead. Mr Snape is a very busy man, you know,” And before Harry could correct the misunderstanding, she lifted her wand to her mouth and spoke into the tip.

“Mr Snape, there's a candidate for the lab assistant position out here, shall I send him through?”

“No,” Harry gasped, “Now? Already?”

The secretary cocked her head at him, “He’s usually free at this time of day,” she winked at him, surprising Harry. “Don’t let him intimidate you!”

“Very well, Miss Fotheringay-Phibbs, send him through,” a low male voice sounded, the voice magically coming out through the secretary’s desk but sounding so clear that the man sounded like he was in the room with them.

Harry balled up the newspaper clipping, he was not prepared for this. He hadn’t even been sure he ever wanted to meet Severus Snape. What if he was just like James? What if he didn’t want to know Harry? What if he turned him away, like James had done?

“Just through that door,” the secretary said encouragingly, pointing to a door in the far corner of the waiting room.

Harry took one step forward and then half turned to look at the front door. He could just run away now and never come back here again. Snape need never know he’d been here today.

“Well? Where is he?” the sharp voice barked; but Harry’s nerves were always strongest when things looked their worst. He didn’t have to tell Severus that he was his father. He could see what sort of man he was first, and then he could decide what to do.

Plucking up his courage, he walked into Snape’s office.

Severus Snape was sitting behind a large desk, his head bent over the parchment he was writing on. Harry couldn’t make out his face at all as it was hidden behind his long dark hair.

Harry shut the door behind him and approached the desk. The scratching noise of the quill on parchment didn’t even slow down. Harry tried to get a glimpse of the man’s face, but it was so hidden that he only got the vague impression of a rather large nose.

Finally, the man stopped writing and looked up.

His nose was large, and not as delicate as Harry’s had become and his lips were thinner. His skin had a paleness that Harry had developed but, on Snape, that same paleness made him look rather sickly.

He raised an impatient eyebrow at Harry.

“I’m not here for the job,” Harry blurted out.

Snape raised his other eyebrow.

“No? Then it seems rather curious that you would invade my office like this,” Snape said, and Harry didn’t miss the way that his father’s wrist flicked slightly as he readied his wand.

“I am looking for a job, but I’ve only just left Hogwarts. I haven’t got my NEWT results, but I know that I did well. I was wondering if you had any other positions.”

Severus studied him for a few seconds before relaxing and slipping his wand back up his sleeve. Now that the atmosphere was more relaxed, Snape looked him up and down, his eyes lingering on Harry’s face. Maybe Snape could see the same similarities between them that Harry could.

“What’s your name, boy?”

“Harry, sir," Harry hesitated, worried that Snape might recognise Evans as his mother’s maiden name. Thinking quickly, he decided to use his muggle relations name - the ones that James had disapproved of and always refused to allow him to visit. “Harry Dursley.”

“Dursley,” Snape muttered. He licked his lips slowly, still eyeing Harry. “Well, boy, I don’t care how many NEWTs you may one day have, you won’t mix a potion for my company without a degree.”

Something twisted in Harry’s gut, a sense of nausea seeping up through his intestines and heading straight for his mouth. This was his father and he was going to send him away for not being good enough; just like James had done.

He hadn’t even wanted this job, but he now didn’t want to leave without having a reason to spend more time with Snape.

“Please, I know I’m not qualified but surely there's something you can find for me to do!” Harry pleaded. He knew that lots of labs employed people to just cut ingredients all day long. It would be the job equivalent of a permanent detention, but Harry would gladly do it in a heartbeat.

Snape leaned back in his chair, smirking slightly, “Oh really? How old are you, Mr Dursley?”

“Eighteen, sir. Please, call me Harry.”

“Well, Harry,” Snape’s voice dropped a little and Harry smiled to hear his dad use his first name. “Perhaps I can find something for you to do, as you’re so eager for employment. But not here.” Snape drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, the heavy leather muting the noise. “Do you live alone? Can you work there?”

“Er,” Harry bit his lip in confusion. He certainly could work in his bedsit, although he wasn’t sure what his father would need him to do there. Maybe there was a lot of paperwork involved with selling potions.

“Yes, sir. If you like.”

“Good,” Snape smiled, his lip twisting in a way that Harry had seen his own, new, face do that very morning. Harry smiled back warmly. This was going so much better than he could have possibly imagined. “Where do you live?”

“The flat above Denise’s Desiccated Nail Emporium, but it’s very quiet up there, I can barely hear the hags at all!”

Snape smiled slightly, and then frowned as a thought seemed to strike him.

“That’s off Knockturn Alley. You haven’t had a job before, have you?”

“No, sir,” Harry said in a confused voice.

“Then this,” Snape stood up and, walking around the desk, stopped in front of Harry. He was a lot taller than Harry had been expecting and he had to tilt his head up to continue looking at Snape’s face. “Is for you.”

His father held out a bright gold Galleon.

“But I haven’t even started work yet.”

“Oh,” Snape smiled, “I’ve no doubt that you’ll earn it. Think of this as a retainer to ensure that you don’t sell your services in the meantime.”

“Alright,” Harry reached for the Galleon slowly, he didn’t have a lot of experience with job interviews but he hadn’t realised that he would have this many offers and he felt he should tell Snape that he might be getting a job at Slug and Jiggers. “It’s just that I was talking to the manager of-”

Snape hissed slightly and took another Galleon from his pocket.

“There!” He shoved the Galleons into Harry’s hand, getting so close to Harry that he could feel his father’s hot breath against his forehead.

“Mr Snape,” the secretary's voice chimed quietly from his desk. “Mr Potage is here to see you.”

Snape cursed and lowered his head to speak into his wand, where it was tucked against his wrist. “Not yet, Miss Fotheringay-Phibbs.”

“I’ll, erm, I’ll see you later then,” Harry said, but before he could move he felt his father’s finger under his chin, tilting his head up.

Snape’s face was so close but Harry didn’t care, he was mesmerised, trying to take in all of his father’s features. Then Snape brushed his thumb across Harry’s lips and he frowned in confusion.

“I’ve never had someone on retainer before,” Snape mused, his thumb pressing against Harry and pushing its way into Harry’s mouth, “But you’re the prettiest whore I’ve ever seen.”

Harry froze, his mouth dry and his stomach turned to ice. How could Snape think Harry was a prostitute? It was monstrously wrong. This was his father!

“No!” Harry started, but just then the office door opened and in marched a stout man with Miss Fotheringay-Phibbs trailing after him.

“Mr Potage, if you’ll just wait one more minute, Mr Snape is in a meeting!”

“That’s alright, Miss Fotheringay-Phibbs, Mr Dursley and I have finished,” Snape’s thumb was still on his lips and he only moved it away now, after Mr Potage and Miss Fotheringay-Phibbs had seen what they’d been doing. Harry felt his face burn red with shame. “Come, Mr Potage, I have the specifications through here.”

And with that Snape strode away with Mr Potage hurrying after him as they began to discuss cauldron sizes.

“The interview went well then,” Miss Fotheringay-Phibbs said rather primly. Harry gaped at her, the imprint of his father’s thumb still on his lips.

Chapter Text

His bedsit looked even more squalid than it had that morning as Harry sat on his bed trying to calm down. It had just been a misunderstanding. Harry would explain, calmly and rationally, that although Harry would love to spend more time with Snape, it would not be in that capacity.

Harry stayed up half the night, not daring to get changed into his bed clothes. Until this was all sorted out, he didn’t want to do anything inappropriate, and having Snape come into his tiny flat whilst Harry was in his nightgown would be a disaster. But Snape didn’t come that night. Harry slept alone, waking every time he heard the slightest noise, rousing himself just in case it was Snape walking up the creaky stairs.

The Galleons that Snape had given him were hidden under a loose floorboard, ready to be taken out and given back to him as soon as possible.

It was just after lunch that Harry finally heard the creaking sounds that he’d been listening for all night. He flung open his front door and there was Severus Snape.

“My, my, you are glad to see me!” Snape drawled, pushing his way past Harry and into the bedsit. He looked around the room blankly. “I don’t have long, I’ve got to be back in the lab before those dunderheaded fools ruin my new bases.”

Harry gaped at him.

“Wait, this can’t happen -”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course it can, that’s why I paid you. Now, close the door and get over here.”

Harry jumped slightly at the brisk tone and unthinkingly closed the door.

“I’ve been thinking about your arse, but there's no time for that, so I’ll have your mouth for now.” His father rubbed the front of his trousers, and Harry could see they were already bulging obscenely.

“No!” Harry yelled, “I’ve got your money here, I’ll give it back. It’s not about the money.” He turned and bent to retrieve the coins and instantly realised his mistake, Snape attacked him from behind, forcing him down on to the floor. Harry could feel Snape’s cock, hot and hard against his bum. “No! Get off!”

“Shh,” Snape lay on top of him, his long fingers stroking Harry’s hair softly, “Shh, calm down. It’s my fault.”

Harry felt a lump in his throat. James had always avoided touching him, he’d never had anyone be so gentle with him. He wanted to tell Snape to get off at once, but he didn’t want Snape to stop stroking his hair.

“I paid for a virgin, but i’m not treating you like one, am I?”

Harry felt a burst of disgust. Snape wasn’t touching him out of love at all. He rolled to the side, pushing Snape off him and onto the floor and, with a speed he didn’t know he had, he reached for his wand and cast a spell on his own father.

“Incarcerous!”

The ropes that appeared around Snape bound him so quickly that he had no time to get his wand out and protect himself.

“What is the meaning of this?” Snape bit out, struggling against the ropes, “Release me at once before I have you up before the Wizengamot for false advertising!”

“I never said I was a prostitute!” Harry yelled.

Snape’s face had turned an angry shade of red but he stopped struggling, his dark eyes glinting as he looked up at Harry.

“So what is this? An attempt to frame me? A blackmail attempt? You shall find that I am not so easy to manipulate, Dursley.”

Harry sat down on the floor beside his father. It should be easy to just say the words and end all this confusion, but it was difficult to say something so momentous.

“Dursley is my aunt’s name. My mother’s name was Lily Evans.”

He had Snape’s full attention now and he shifted under the intensity of that gaze, but Snape didn’t speak, so Harry continued awkwardly.

“She married James Potter -”

At the sound of that name Severus let out a small noise.

“He blood adopted me.”

Harry stopped, there wasn’t any need to keep Snape tied up. He was hardly going to keep on trying it on with Harry now he knew the truth. With a word, the ropes dropped off Snape, who was on Harry in an instant, pushing him back onto the floor, this time on his back as Snape straddled his chest. Snape’s wand pressed into Harry’s chin, digging in so that Harry was scared to move for fear of accidentally setting off some wild magic.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Harry looked up at him in surprise. Didn’t Snape know already?

“Because you’re my father. My mum slept with you just before her wedding.”

The wand at his throat relaxed slightly, but Harry couldn’t decipher the look on Snape’s face.

“Why now? Why are you telling me this now?”

“I didn’t know! James Potter died four days ago. He, he,” Harry stuttered, tears suddenly welling up in his eyes. “He undid the adoption. I hadn’t known about it until then, and he told me your name.”

“A deathbed confession,” Snape snorted, “How maudlin.”

Harry gasped at Snape’s callousness, “Don’t you care? Don’t you want me?”

Snape smiled, darkly and without a trace of amusement .

He leaned forward, the angle of his body changing so that Harry could feel his cock pressing against Harry’s stomach. He was still hard. This close he could smell the pungent tang of rosemary and Chizpurfle that Snape must have using in the potions he’d been making that morning.

“If you’re lying, have no doubt that I will kill you. There will be nowhere that you can hide from me and, when I find you, I will make you suffer in ways that you cannot imagine. I will feed you potions that will make you live out your greatest fears, your nightmares themselves will become real for you, and it will feel like an eternity before you perish.”

Harry opened his mouth to explain that he was only repeating the name that James had told him but, before he could say a word, Snape moved forward, his eyes locked with Harry’s as he put his lips over Harry’s mouth and kissed him.

Harry squirmed, trying to turn away but Snape pushed his tongue into Harry; his eyes still open, still peering down at Harry.

“Mmmh,” Harry mumbled, trying to get him to stop, but Snape’s tongue was too forceful, too insistent. Harry closed his eyes.

Snape pulled back, leaving Harry with his mouth hanging open and breathing heavily. He opened his eyes when he felt a sudden jab of pain as Snape pulled at his hair. Snape had taken a clump of hair from him, which Harry assumed he was going to use in a paternity potion.

“You have Lily’s eyes,” Snape said, still sitting on top of him. “I wonder if you’ll still have them by the end of the week.”

He stood up, stepping over Harry as he walked away. Harry watched him go as he sat up slowly, shuffling slightly to lean back against the bed. He assumed that Snape was referring to fact that the potion that had ended the blood adoption would take a week until it finished his physical transformation.

“I’m not sure,” Snape said, sneering slightly as he looked down at Harry, “Which I’d rather see as I fuck you, my eyes or Lily’s.”

Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sneered back at him.

“That’s sick!”

Snape cocked his head, so that his hair flicked back.

“Didn’t you wonder just why it was that Potter didn’t want you? Quite how tainted you must be if even a blood adoption couldn’t clean you of the stain of your sire?” And with a laugh, low and jeering, he stalked from the bedsit, leaving the door open behind him.

The Galleons were still on the floor where they’d fallen during the struggle.

Chapter Text

“I thought you liked that place,” Remus said, handing him a cup of tea. There was a black armband around the sleeve of his worn jacket. Harry hadn’t even spared a thought for how James’ friends must be grieving him.

“Yeah, no,” Harry dithered, “It was just really busy.”

Remus chuckled.

“Really?”

“Well, people kept on knocking on my door… And the hags downstairs were pretty noisy.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Remus nodded sagely as he took a seat on his ratty sofa.

“Yeah, I’m thinking about leaving London, going somewhere in the country. I was thinking about laying low for a while, just have some time to think, you know?”

“A little perspective is always useful.”

“Yeah,” Harry took a sip of his tea, forgetting that he hadn’t put any sugar in yet. “You know, the other day, you were asking about my biological dad?”

“I do,” said Remus, in his infuriatingly calm tone.

“James did tell me who it was.”

“Ah, I gathered as much,” Remus pushed the sugar bowl towards Harry, who began spooning sugar into his cup automatically.

“You know who it is too, don’t you?”

Remus took a sip of his tea and turned to watch the little fire burning in the grate.

“I suspected, after I learnt that you’d been blood-adopted. Lily had a dear friend, a childhood friend. They learnt about magic together and they came to Hogwarts together. He was, I suspect, very much in love with Lily. He was a cruel man, a possessive man, and I believe that Lily loved him, in her way, but she realised the dangers of being a possession rather than a person. Even though we were only teenagers, he was always greedy for her affection, always trying to keep her from her friends and housemates. She chose James instead. I suppose, with hindsight, it may not have been that much better a choice.

“Harry, I know the way that James treated you was wrong, but he never really recovered from the War. The other man that Lily loved, he was Marked, Harry, do you understand? He was a Death Eater. He’d be in Azkaban now if Dumbledore hadn’t pleaded for amnesty for all Death Eaters who hadn’t cast an Unforgivable.

“It must be so tempting to seek him out, to make up for what James did, to have a chance with another father but,” he leaned forward, gripping Harry’s wrist, “But I urge you not to do so.”

“The war was a long time ago,” Harry muttered, he could feel himself blushing, he’d never been good at keeping secrets from Remus, who always seemed able to read his face. “Do the others know who my real father is?” Harry asked as Remus released him, “Does Sirius?”

“Sirius,” Remus leaned back, “Sirius and James, you know what they are like, always so impetuous.”

Harry felt his hand tremble and clutched at his tea cup.

“He knows, that’s what you’re saying, he knows and he doesn’t want to see me. That’s why he’s not here now, isn’t it?”

Remus was silent for too long before answering.

“You know what Sirius’ temper is like, Harry, give him a few days to calm down and it’ll be fine.”

“Like James was fine?”

“Your appearance the other day was a surprise. I’m not sure that any of us truly believed that you would look different at all, that maybe somehow James had been mistaken about the whole thing and the potion wouldn’t work.”

Harry sipped his tea, thinking about what Remus had told him about Snape. He hadn’t taken Snape’s threats very seriously; the man had threatened to kill him, but he’d also just learnt he had a son, so Harry could understand he might have been overwrought. It had upset Harry enough that he had fled his new home, but now that he knew Snape had been a Death Eater, Harry would have to take the threat even more seriously.

“I don’t think I will stay here tonight,” Harry said.

“There’s no need to leave, it will be a pleasure to have you here! Don’t let Sirius’ behaviour get to you.”

Harry plastered a fake smile on his face and tried to look reassuring.

“No, I know, it’s just, it’s sort of liberating, being able to travel wherever I want. I think I’ll go to York this evening. I only went there once, and James could only stay five minutes so I barely saw the place. I’d like to go back.”

Remus smiled indulgently.

“Alright, as long as you’re happy. You don’t deserve any of this Harry, truly.”

Harry grinned, Remus’ kind words making him duck his head shyly.

“So, erm, tell me about this new Wolfsbane potion you’ve been taking.”

Remus chuckled, “First, go and get the biscuits from the kitchen. You’re a thoughtful young man to remember me mentioning that.”

Harry fetched the biscuits, arranging some of them on one of Remus’ chipped plates.

“Oh, I always loved getting your letters, Remus, they were a brilliant distraction from the stress of revising for NEWTs,” Harry said, trying not to show how much Remus’ praise affected him.

They chatted for awhile, but Harry couldn’t stay. He felt an itch under his skin. He didn’t know how Snape would react once he’d finished brewing a paternity potion and learnt the truth. Remus’ description of Snape’s character was alarming and Harry hoped Snape wouldn’t make good on his threat to track Harry down. It wasn’t worth staying in one place to find out. He’d keep moving for the next few weeks, until he was certain that Snape would leave him alone.

It was just starting to get dark when Harry stood up with a sigh of regret and slung his bag over his shoulder.

“Keep in touch, Harry, remember you don’t have to be alone!”

Harry smiled and waved goodbye as he wondered if Remus would still be so kind to him if he found out that Snape had kissed him. He didn’t Apparate to York, instead he went to Wales. He’d once seen a picture of his mum, when she’d been a teenager and on holiday with her muggle family, standing outside a remote cottage that they’d rented up in the mountains. He’d been fascinated by it at the time. The photo had been so still, and his mother and her sister had looked so happy. He Apparated to a spot just in front the cottage, not sure exactly what he would find there. The little stone cottage was still there, and a quick spell revealed that no-one was inside. Harry unlocked the front door with his wand. No-one had been here for awhile; there was a layer of dust on everything, although the furniture was still intact and there was canned food in the cupboards. It would be a good place to hide out.

As dusk faded to the utter darkness of the countryside, he started a fire in the grate, set the muggle lamps magically alight and opened a can of baked beans; settling down on the muggle sofa he ate his supper straight out of the magically warmed can. The place was almost cosy.

Suddenly, there was an almighty bang as someone Apparated right outside the cottage. Harry leapt up, he didn’t need to look outside the window, or cast any revealing spells; he knew this was Snape and he knew he had to get away. He turned, trying to Apparate, but it was like running into a brick wall. He just couldn’t get away.

The front door opened and there was Snape, a dark hood obscuring his face and his wand pointed at Harry.

“Mr Snape, I presume,” Snape drawled mockingly.

Harry reached for his wand, but it was spinning away from him before he could even touch it. Snape’s non-verbal magic was strong.

“What are you doing here? What do you want?” Harry yelled, his anger rising as Snape seemed so calm, so clearly in control of the situation.

“I want what I’ve wanted since the first moment I saw you,” Snape kicked the door closed behind him as he came into the cottage, and took off his heavy travelling cape. “I want to fuck you, Harry.”

Harry clenched his fists, preparing himself to attack. He had to escape the Anti-Apparition wards that Snape had put up.

“At first, I thought I could simply buy you, but now,” Snape sighed and Harry could see the look of naked hunger on his father’s face, “But now I know that you’re mine. You were always meant to be mine.”

“Don’t do this. I want you as my father. Not like this.”

“Then why,” Snape asked tauntingly, “Why did you present yourself in my office as a whore?”

“I didn’t mean to! I was always going to tell you,” Harry said, suddenly relieved, this was just a misunderstanding that was about to be cleared up, “I just wanted to meet you first.”

“Your eyes have darkened,” Snape said, lifting a hand to Harry’s face. He didn’t push him away. It was so difficult to walk away from physical affection and, now that Snape seemed calmer, it would be alright.

“How did you find me?”

Snape smiled, his thin lips twisting to reveal crooked teeth. “I told you, Harry, that I could find you. It was even easier once I learnt you really are my flesh. I’ll always know where you are now.”

It should have sounded like a threat, but Snape’s tone was so gentle that Harry didn’t care.

“But,” Snape’s hand suddenly gripped Harry chin and it was too harsh, his fingers were digging into him. “You’ve been a bad boy, haven't you, Harry Snape? Running off to hide with your pet werewolf. Do you know, he once tried to eat me?”

Harry yanked his head out of Snape’s grasp.

“Remus? He’d never do something like that, he’s harmless.”

“He’s harmless because he’s dosed up with Wolfsbane at the full moon, but without it he’s nothing more than a slathering beast. You should remember, Harry, where your loyalties lie.”

Harry stepped backwards, trying to put more space between them.

“Remus told me that you were a Death Eater.”

Snape’s lip curled. “Did he?”

“Is it, is it true?”

Wordlessly Snape began to slowly unbuttoning his frock coat. There were so many buttons to undo and Harry couldn’t do anything but watch Snape’s hand slowly work its way down his chest. Snape took off the coat to reveal a waistcoat and a white shirt with loose sleeves, pulling up his left sleeve, he bared his forearm for Harry.

There, seared into Snape’s flesh, was the blackened remains of the Dark Mark.

“But, but what about my mum?” Harry asked in confusion. How could a Death Eater have ever cared about muggleborn? Maybe their relationship had not been as loving as James and Remus had both implied.

“Your mother,” Snape began tersely, breaking off when Harry shrank back. “It is true that your mother was muggleborn, she was still an amazing witch, beautiful and kind. I joined Voldemort, but I was never prejudiced against her.” Harry could hear the longing in Snape’s voice. Harry blinked, wishing that Snape would tell him more about his mum; James always hated talking about her.

Snape smirked, as if he could read Harry’s thoughts.

“She was a brilliant witch, Harry. I could tell you about her, if you like. We grew up together, no-one knew her as well as I did. The three of us would have been very happy together, but she left me... I won’t ever leave you, Harry. The two of us can be a family, that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

He stepped closer so that the two of them were sharing the same warm breaths, Snape’s hand settled on his hip, warm and heavy and grounding.

“Not like this,” Harry whispered.

“No?” Snape lowered his head, but instead of trying to kiss Harry, he nuzzled into his neck, pressing soft kisses into Harry’s sensitive skin. He shivered, Snape was all around him, keeping him in place and holding him together.

“What’s my name, Harry?”

“S-severus?” Harry stammered, distracted as Snape’s other hand fell onto the small of his back.

Snape bit his neck sharply and then soothed the flesh with a kiss.

“No, Harry. What are you to call me?”

His hand lowered, skimming over the cleft of Harry’s arse, distracting him from Snape’s question.

“Don’t,” Harry pushed him away, but Severus’ hands were in the front of his trousers, undoing his flies and pulling at his clothes.

“You’re mine, my flesh, my blood. Isn’t that what you want, Harry? Someone who will always love you, more than anyone else in the world.”

Harry turned away, surprised when Snape let him go. He wished he had the strength to fight Snape, to walk away and go back to his lonely, dreary bedsit. Back to longing for whatever scraps of affection Remus might offer him, back to hoping that Sirius was in a good mood and would let Harry spend time with him.

“It’s wrong, people will know!” Harry argued, his voice getting higher in his frustration.

Snape smiled, his eyes gleaming and he came closer, his hands already working on pulling Harry’s trousers down.

“They won’t know. I’ll acknowledge you as my son, my heir, my business partner. It’s only natural that you would move into my home, and what we do in private will be none of their business.”

“I’ve never - ahhh,” Harry broke off as Snape’s large hand wrapped itself around Harry’s hardening cock. The hand released him just as quickly and started pulling at his shirt, until he was almost entirely naked, apart from his shoes; his trousers bunched up around his ankles as Snape didn’t seem interested in taking them off completely.

“That’s because you’re a good boy, Harry.” Snape whispered in his ear. Harry shut his eyes, trying to stop the feeling of being completely overwhelmed. “You’d never let anyone but your father touch you, would you?”

Harry couldn’t answer because Snape was turning him around and bending him over the back of the sofa. He suddenly understood what was happening and he tried to jump out of Snape’s grasp. He stumbled, his trousers keeping him from moving properly and then Snape’s hand was on the back of his neck, pushing his head further and further down until his arse was sticking straight up. Snape’s hand released him, and Harry tried to stand upright, but Snape must have put a non-verbal sticking charm on his skin because he couldn’t do anything more than wiggle on top of the sofa in a vain bid for freedom.

Cool hands stroked down his sides, making his skin pebble. Harry didn’t mean to make a noise, but it felt so good that he couldn’t stop the soft moan.

“You’re so beautiful, Harry, just like your mother. But she was never really mine, not like you.”

One of Snape’s hand grabbed his arse, pinching him and Harry screamed but he wasn’t sure if it was in pain or pleasure. Snape’s fingertips traced down the cleft of his arse and come to a stop on the sensitive skin of his arsehole.

“I swear to you, my son,” Snape began, and he must have bent over too, because Harry could feel the heat of his breath against his hole. “I’ll make you happy for the rest of your life, you’ll never be alone again. Lubricus. Your father will always love you.”

At Snape’s spell, Harry’s arse became instantly wet. He recognised the spell from a book that had been passed around the Gryffindor Common Room last year. He’d read the words, and he knew what the spell would do, but no-one had ever told him it would feel so good.

There was the sound of shuffling clothes and then something hot and hard poked at his bum.

“This is what you want, isn’t it? Tell me!”

Harry let out an undignified noise but he couldn’t say the words; this was too wrong. Snape’s cock dragged across his hole, torturing him with the promise of more pleasure to come.

“Tell me that you want me to love you,” Severus’ dark voice cajoled and Harry couldn’t help himself. It was what he wanted.

“Love me, please.”

And, with a deep grunt, Snape thrust inside. Harry screamed as he felt himself opening up on his father’s cock.

“Yes! This is what you need,” Snape’s voice rang out as he pulled out and pushed back in again. It stung, but Snape didn’t seem to care. He kept on doing it until he struck a point inside Harry that made him gasp.

“There you are,” Snape said, his hands tightening around Harry’s hips as he sped up, his cock stabbing at Harry with more and more force. “I’m inside you. I’m so far that you can never get rid of me, not even by blood adoption. I’m inside you, in your bones, in your soul and in your arse.”

Harry cried out, he was so hard and his cock was rubbing painfully against the rough material of the sofa. His arms were still stuck to the sofa, but he needed to wank.Why wasn’t Snape touching him?

“Please,” Harry panted, barely able to get out the word as Snape’s thrusts battered him.

“What’s my name, Harry?”

“S-sev -”

Snape slapped his arse hard and Harry yelped. His father had spanked him!

“No, use my name, and ask if you can come!”

Harry’s whole body was on fire and he just wanted to come, he’d do anything. It felt so wrong to say it, but he wanted to be good.

“Daddy!” Harry yelled, overcome by his sudden, blinding orgasm.

Harry’s whole body was taut and he could feel Snape’s cock, not slowing down, still shoving into him as Snape fucked him through his climax.

“Yes,” Snape changed his angle, bending over Harry’s back so that he could speak straight into Harry’s ear. “Good boys come on Daddy’s cock. I’m going to come inside you now, Harry. Just like I did to your mother. The same seed that made you,” Snape was incoherent with lust, as he pounded into Harry.

There was a low grunt and Harry could feel his Daddy’s cock spasming as he came: was this what his mother had felt like? Harry’s cock twitched, hardening again.

Snape pulled out of him, Harry’s arse making an indecent slurping noise as if it couldn’t bear to part with his father’s cock. For a second, Dad rested on top of him, his hands stroking Harry soothingly.

“Come,” his Dad said, standing up. Harry realised he must have removed the Sticking Charm because he was free to move now. He turned to face his father but his eyes fell naturally to the cock that had just taken his virginity. “There must be a bed in this place.”

Harry pulled off his shoes and trousers, not sure if he was supposed to follow his Dad or not.

“Come on,” Snape said, grabbing his hand, “Tomorrow is going to be ridiculously busy, we should try to get at least some sleep.”

Harry followed him with a smile. They found a double bed, lit a fire in the grate and settled down for the night.

Snape’s naked body curled around Harry, his father’s long fingers constantly caressing him.

“You’re going to make me your business partner?” Harry asked, remembering what Dad had said earlier. “I don’t even know what business you’re in, not exactly.”

Dad’s finger teased around his nipple, drawing idle circles.

“I make potions,” he pinched Harry’s nipple roughly, “These are more Lily’s than mine.”

Harry didn’t like to be compared to either Snape or Lily. His body was his own, but he supposed Snape would stop soon, after they’d got to know each other better. He thought about asking Dad to stop now, but decided not to. It was nice to have all of his father’s attention.

“What sort of potions?”

Snape’s long finger trailed down his side, tickling him slightly.

“In the past, I used to make all sorts of potions. Nowadays, I have assistants to do that, I spend my time working on experimental potions. “

Harry watched the shadows from the firelight dance across his father’s face as Dad watched the progress of his own finger along Harry’s body.

“What are you trying to make?”

His finger lapped around Harry’s belly button once and then he lay his entire hand flat against Harry’s belly, as if he were protecting it from some unseen foe.

“Male pregnancy potions,” Dad said with a wistful smile.

Harry laughed.

“What a strange thing to want to create!”

His Daddy’s hand clutched at his abdomen, clawing at him, but then he kissed Harry’s cheek, soothing away the pain.