Whelp

By jharad17

A/N at end

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I make no money from this. The characters belong to J. K. Rowling. I only borrow them for a brief while.

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From previous chapter:

Albus held his gaze, and the twinkle in his eyes returned with a vengeance. 'Because, Severus, you could be the child's father.'

Severus stared at him and did not breathe for many long moments; it was almost as if he had forgotten how. Then, 'I am not Harry's father,' he said bitterly. 'I've done the math.'

Albus smiled. 'I did not know you coveted the boy enough to do so.'

'There was merest curiosity about him,' Severus said. 'Not covetousness.'

'Of course.' Albus leaned back in his chair and Severus studied him some more. He did not trust the easy acceptance Albus had for his words, not the smile he saw on the man's lips -- and in his damnably twinkling eyes -- now. Such portents made him uneasy.

'What do you know of it, then? How could I be his father?'

'A blood adoption.'

Ready to make objections, Severus gaped like a school boy. 'That wouldn't be enough, would it? For the wards?'

'Not for anyone else, no. The ward must be based in truest love to continue the protections his mother lent him. But you loved Lily, didn't you, my dear boy?'

'I . . . yes. I loved her.' He didn't wonder how Albus knew, not overmuch, at least. Either Ligilimancy or observant eyes could have told him the truth.

'And you would love the boy?'

'I--' He considered the waif upstairs and his pathetic treatment by his relatives, and his still fierce independence as he tried to feed himself. And he considered the sizable amount of accidental magic the boy had performed in an effort to save his own life, and the Parseltongue he'd overheard when he'd first found the boy, as well as the glassy, dazed look of one who has known too much pain and not enough love, and he knew this child would have a hard life of it in any family. There was too much to overcome. Too much for one small set of shoulders to bear. It would take someone who understood that pain to take care of him, someone who understood what it meant to be different, outcast.

Severus certainly understood those.

But could he open his heart to this boy, truly open it, after all he'd been through, after Lily and her marriage to James, and all of it? Could he look at the boy and not see lost opportunity? Could he even care for the child appropriately? He'd never had siblings or even young cousins to watch over, and he knew very little about rearing children. It was one of the things about beginning to work at Hogwarts that terrified him. He knew how to intimidate people, and had hoped that would be enough. But it wouldn't do for the boy.

Albus stirred in his seat, and Severus looked back at him , breaking his reverie. 'I would hope to, Albus. But it's been a very long time.'

'Yes,' Albus said, and there was a note of regret in his voice. 'I suppose it has.'

'But if I can not do it . . .'

'Then he will need to go back. I'm sorry, Severus.'

That was it, then. Despite how much he loathed being manipulated, he could not abandon the boy to those Muggles. He could tear his own soul like that. He would just need to grow used to the idea, that was all. 'Then he will have to stay here. How soon till we can arrange the ritual?'

Albus' smile was like sunshine after a hurricane. 'Tomorrow. I will bring a Ministry official, someone rather discreet, and we'll get it all squared away.'

After a few minutes of deciding on the time to meet tomorrow, and discussing what would need to be done to prepare, Albus took his leave by the same method he'd come in, and Severus went upstairs to see to his son.

It was late evening, more than 24 hours after he'd rescued the child, before Harry woke again.

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Harry woke feeling more comfortable than he could ever remember being in his life. And there was no pain. He blinked open his eyes and saw the sky again, and clouds, and for one fleeting moment thought he was still outside, still chained to the shed, but then he realized that even though the clouds seemed to be moving, they were actually painted on the ceiling, and he was in a bed. A very soft bed, with a very big pillow cushioning his head.

He rolled over onto his side and looked into two big, bulbous eyes staring back at him. A scream was half way from his mouth before he remembered. The house elf. Dappin. He thrust a fist into his mouth to muffle his scream. ''M'sorry,' he said as soon as he got his breath back. He scrambled from the bed, sure he wasn't supposed to be on it, especially now that he was feeling better. His bare feet hit the floor with a thump, and his ankle twinged, but not too bad, so he ignored it, but he noticed a bandage wrapped tight on his foot, from near to his toes, to halfway toward his knee. He looked at Dappin again. 'I'm real sorry.'

'You wait here, Master Harry,' Dappin said. 'Dappin is going to get Master Snape now.'

'No, please!' Harry held out a hand to her. 'Please don't tell him. I won't do it again.'

Dappin gave him an odd considering stare. 'He is wanting to know, so I will tell him, Master Harry. You stay here.' She disappeared with a POP, just like before.