Whelp II The Wrath of Snape

'I also think,' Poppy continued, when he did not respond to her earlier remarks, 'that you might consider contacting Molly Weasley again, and see if she has any insights for you.'

Molly Weasley. Yes, actually, that might be for the best. The thought, the idea, nearly made him laugh, that he would seriously consider asking the matriarch of the Weasley clan for advice. But Poppy was right. And Molly did already know Harry, and know about him. 'I will, Poppy,' he promised.

'See that you do. Now go see your son, Severus,' she said again. 'He really does need you.'

Severus nodded and she stepped out of his way. He had some planning to do, and a Weasley to contact, but first he had his apologies to make.

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A/N: Thanks for all the enthusiastic reviews and encouragement for this story! I should have a new chapter out in a couple of days. Harry Hugs for everyone!

*Chapter 7*: Chapter 7

Whelp II -- The Wrath of Snape

By jharad17

Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: None of this is mine. Honest. She's rich, blond and British. I'm not.

A/N: If you haven't read 'Whelp' before reading this story . . . well, why not? Really, you should, 'cause otherwise, you're gonna be plenty lost.

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Previously:

Severus nodded and she stepped out of his way. He had some planning to do, and a Weasley to contact, but first he had his apologies to make.

The first thing Severus noticed when he opened the door to Harry's room was that the boy was staring down at his lap. There, the kneazle kit, Treacle Tart, lay on her belly, all her legs splayed in the air, except for one, which was curled around Harry's hand, holding it to her belly so he could rub it.

They made quite a picture of contentment, actually, and the scene would have made Severus feel less horrible and inadequate as a father, if he hadn't noticed the boy's eyes were red and puffy from crying, and that he did not look up at Severus when he came in, as he almost always did nowadays. Clearly, Harry did think he was less than deserving of Severus' care and interest, and all that was left to Severus now was to figure out how to make it up to his son.

He crossed the room quietly and eased down on the edge of the bed. 'Harry?' he said softly.

Harry had tensed when Severus came in, and tensed even further when he sat down. His little hands were curled into fists, and he was holding his body so stiffly that tremors ran through it. He did not look up, but his voice came in a whisper, 'Yes, sir?'

Severus did not address the 'sir' Harry used, since he only did so when he was very nervous, and Severus did not want to make it worse for him. Instead, he said slowly, 'Harry, I am very, very sorry for what happened at lunch time.' There was a lump in his throat that he had to swallow past. To see his son so obviously afraid and needing reassurance, but unable to accept it, was heartbreaking. And he didn't know what to do to make it better.

'I was wrong, Harry. I should never have yelled at you. I was the one who told you to stay on the couch, and I wasn't even thinking about . . . You're such a good boy, and you listened very well to what I said, and I didn't even consider that you might listen too well, and that you might not use the toilet if you had to, because I'd told you one thing and then expected another.' He shook his head, aware he was babbling, for goodness sake, but not sure if his words were getting through, not sure if his words of earlier had been too harsh for him to ever be forgiven. He could but try and repair the damage, before everything was lost.

'I'm really very sorry, Harry,' he said again, his voice no louder than Harry's own whisper now, though still tinged with desperation. It had taken so long for Harry to trust him, if he ever had, really, and Severus had crushed that burgeoning trust, manhandled it without considering how fragile it was, like the finest spun glass. Would he ever be truly worthy of the boy's trust? Would he ever be able to regain it? 'I love you, Harry. You're my son, and I was very wrong. Can you ever forgive me?'

For the first time, Harry looked at him, one of the little, darting glances as had been his wont before Severus helped him realize he could look people in the face, and that Severus preferred it, in fact. But he looked, and that was a start. Then his teeth gripped his lower lip, and Severus wanted to ease the abuse bit of flesh from between them, but he was sure Harry would flinch away and did not want that to happen.

Another little glance, this time through his fringe, and Harry seemed to be considering something. Severus could only hope for the best.

''M'sorry, Daddy.' Harry's voice was thick with unshed tears. And he had called Severus 'Daddy,' which Severus had noticed the boy did only very occasionally. He'd wondered about that, once or twice, but then realized he had told Harry that he could call Severus 'Father,' which the boy generally stuck to, except in times of great stress, when he reverted to the more casual name, one he probably recalled from living with his relatives; Severus could not imagine the great lump Dudley calling his own sire 'Father,' after all. ''M'sorry f'r bein' a freak.'