Whelp II The Wrath of Snape

his son anything like, 'the package,' or 'the item,' even if it would hide his identity; it was too drab, too inconsequential. His son meant more than that! Still, he had hesitated only a heartbeat before Dumbledore rescued him from that one decision.

'Move aside,' Albus said, and in the next moment he was standing beside Severus in Harry's bedroom, looking at the rucked up bedclothes and the shattered sconce. 'What happened?'

'That's what I'd like to know,' Severus snarled. His much vaunted self-control was all but gone. He was taking sharp, short breaths, as if his heart was being squeezed inside his chest. He put his fists in his hair and pulled, unable to simply think. He made himself recite the events, however, knowing he had to pull himself together, for Harry's sake. 'I woke to Harry's screams. I thought it to be a nightmare, but when I came in here, Black had grabbed him and had my son's arms pinned, and he Disapparated before I could get a spell off. What am I going to do? I'm going to kill that bastard! Where has he taken my son!?'

'Severus, dear boy,' the Headmaster soothed, his hands folded together in front of him, 'calm down, please. And breathe. You won't do Harry any good if you collapse for not breathing, you know--'

'Of course I know that,' Severus snapped, unequipped to deal with a soothing Albus, when he had never required soothing before. Not even facing the Dark Lord had made him this frantic, this upset. He paced back and forth in front of the Headmaster, aware that he was babbling, yet unable to stop. 'Where could Black have taken him? Where would he go with Harry? I have to get him back. He'll be so frightened; I told him he was safe here, that he'd nothing to fear, that I'd always protect him. Merlin, he'll think I lied to him, and I promised never to lie to him; Merlin, my son, now he'll never know--'

'Severus!' Dumbledore shouted this time, to get his attention. His blue eyes flashed like lightning as he grabbed Severus by both arms for good measure and gave him a sturdy shake. 'Calm yourself! You won't do your son any good this way.'

Severus nodded dumbly. His fists clenched again, and in a whisper, he asked, 'What will I do?'

'Find him.'

'Find him.'

'Of course. I can imagine only one or two places that Black might have Apparated to without a wand, assuming, of course, he still does not have a wand. We shall go there and retrieve your son.'

Severus stared. Of course. He had called on Albus, hoping for just this, but . . . he had not truly dared to hope. 'You know where he is?'

'Perhaps.' Dumbledore looked him up and down. 'Get dressed, Severus,' he said gently, 'and I shall see what I can find.'

--HPSSHPSS--

Mouth hanging open, Sirius Black watched Harry sob himself out. He had no idea what to do. It wasn't supposed to be like this. The boy was supposed to be happy to be rescued, not bawling his eyes out. Not crying for James, who was dead and had been dead for six long and impossibly hard years.

'Stop that now,' Sirius said. He sat on the edge of his childhood bed in the home of his ancestors, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. His room was still festooned with red and gold hangings and banners and rugs, as it had been when he was at Hogwarts and one of the Marauders. That was so very long ago now, though sometimes it seemed like yesterday. He wrung his hands together and leaned forward toward the boy, who was crouching in the corner. 'Stop crying, Harry.' Please.

The boy had his hands over his face. He was scrunched up into about the smallest boy-shaped ball Sirius had ever seen. The fuzzy white she-devil of a kneazle rubbed against Harry's leg, consoling him, giving him the comfort that Sirius wanted to give him. 'Want . . . (sob) my . . . (sob) Daddy!'

'Harry,' Sirius tried to tell him, ever so gently. 'Your Daddy died when you were a baby.'

'No, he didn't! He's at . . . (sob) my home . . . now! I . . . (sob) . . . I wanna go home!'

'This is your home now.' Even as he said it, he knew it could not be so. Not yet. The Aurors would know to look for him here, not to mention the Dementors, and he should be well away before the Minister or Dumbledore came looking. But it had been the only place he could think of in that moment of panic, the only place he knew he could Apparate to without splinching either himself or the pup.

But Harry didn't want his comfort. 'No! Want my Sev'rus! Want my Daddy!'

Sirius growled. He couldn't help it. He had to nip this one in the bud, right now. It galled him that the boy believed that liar. 'That greasy, grimy, nasty, Death Eating git is NOT your FATHER! Get that out of your thick head right now, boy! He kidnapped you--'

'YOU kidnapped me!'

'--and he was treating you like a House Elf. He hated your father, worse than anything.'

'You killed them!' the boy shouted. 'He told me you killed them!'

That stopped Sirius cold. He could only shake his head, even though there was a nugget of truth to Harry's words. He knew it, and James would have known it, too. The words came out hoarse when he admitted, 'I suggested Peter be their Secret Keeper. Peter told You Know Who where they were. Where you all were. But I didn't. I wasn't Secret Keeper.'

'You're lying,' Harry said, but this time he didn't scream, at least.

'I'm not.'

Harry scrubbed dirty, snotty hands over his face. 'I'm not either, you know. Severus Snape is my Dad. We're blood adopted.'

And if that wasn't a kick in the teeth, nothing else was. Technically, according to Wizard Law, a blood adoption would make Harry Snivellus' son. Except for one little thing: Snape didn't have the right to adopt Harry, so long as Sirius was alive. Sirius had not given his permission. So he told the kid, 'Doesn't matter. I didn't give him permission to adopt you, so it wasn't legal. You are my godson, and James was, and always will be, your father.