Whelp

*Chapter 14*: Chapter 14

Whelp – Chapter 14

By jharad17

Disclaimer: Why you keep looking at me like that? This isn't mine, I say!

A/N

at end

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Harry screamed in his sleep again that night. And without even realizing, he put up the Silencing spell. But Severus had already put up charms to wake him if Harry's sleep was disturbed at all and so was warned when the boy's nightmares started. In his room across the hall, he rolled over at the incessant buzzing sound, realized what it was after ten or fifteen seconds, and then lunged from his bed to the boy's room. He found Harry flailing around in the bed, caught up in quilts and sheets that had his trapped and practically hyperventilating . . . but silently.

Severus canceled the spell, bracing himself for the screams he now knew would follow, and then gathered the boy in his arms. For another few minutes, he had to fight the boy's fists and feet as Harry struggled to free himself from the one holding him, but when the boy finally wakened, his eyes were round as saucers and Severus knew he could never tell this child he couldn't do accidental magic, no matter how much it troubled him. The boy was rigid with fear in Severus' arms. His skin was flushed and sweaty from his exertions, and Severus spoke softly to him, saying, "Shush, now, Harry. It's all right, now. I have you . . ."

"Daddy," the little boy whispered, his breath hitching, and he sagged bonelessly, burying his face in Severus' shoulder, tiny, stick-thin arms snaking around his neck.

Startled, Severus patted the back of Harry's head rather awkwardly. Daddy? "Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked. "Did you have a bad dream?"

Harry nodded against Severus' shoulder. His breath came in hot gasps. "Was awful. Sh'was screaming."

"Who was screaming, Harry?"

"The lady wiff red hair. An then there was green light and she was dead."

Severus felt cold all over and held the boy more tightly. Lily. He'd dreamed of his mother's death. "It's all right," he murmured.

"S'not all right," the boy argued. "She's dead, and I never got to know her."

"No," Severus said. "No, you never did."

After that, there was some more back patting, and Dappin brought them cocoa, which the boy said he'd never had before in his life but pronounced "Brilliant!" and then tucking in again. Severus left a small ball of light, about the size of a Remembrall on the side table, which Harry could watch as it flowed through various colors, if he wanted.

"Try to sleep again, though," he told his son as he started to shut the door. "Tomorrow will be a busy day."

"Father!" the boy called. "Please . . . leave it open?"

Severus nodded and did so, making sure his own was open a bit, too, when he returned to bed, in case the boy sought him out during the night. The rest of the night passed fairly uneventfully, although Severus got up several more times, just to make sure the boy was all right, one time needing to cover him up properly, as all his bedclothes had been kicked off.

In the morning, he sat on the edge of the bed, still tired, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. How comfortable he'd become in such a very short time with the idea that Harry was his son now. Smiling faintly, he performed his morning ablutions and met the boy as he was coming down the narrow stairs to the sitting room. The boy was in the clothes he'd worn yesterday, though without the robes, and his dress shoes clacked menacingly on the steps.

"Clothes, today," Severus announced, looking the boy up and down. "Directly after breakfast."

Harry's eyes widened, but he said nothing except, "Yes, sir."

Severus' lips thinned, but he nodded once and led the way to the dining room where breakfast was already laid out. Once the child settled himself in a chair, Severus lifted it for him like he'd done before. Instead of looking horrified, this time Harry laughed with glee as the chair shot up, even though his fingers closed spasmodically on the arms of the chair. It was the first time he'd heard the boy laugh, and Severus resolved he wanted to hear the sound more often.

Harry looked over the table, naked hunger in his eyes, but did not reach for a single scrap. Severus picked up the platter of eggs and served a helping to himself, and Harry watched, eyes flicking from platter to spoon to plate and back in nervous anticipation. "Would you like eggs, Harry?"

The boy bit his lip rather than answer right away, and Severus cursed himself immediately. From his invasion of those Muggles' insect-like minds, he knew that same question – if answered in the affirmative, particularly – had almost always been jeered in response, by Harry's relatives. "Too bad, then, that you've been a horrid little boy and aren't getting any," from his aunt, and, "Only if there's any left after I'm done, right Mummy?" from the cousin.

So . . . "Have some eggs, Harry," Severus said, covering the awkward silence, and scooped a generous helping onto the boy's plate.

Harry gazed up at him with such adoration it made his heart lurch. "Thank you, sir."

"And bacon," and he popped three strips onto Harry's plate as well. "Toast, too." Two pieces of buttered toast followed, filling the plate.

"Thank you, sir!" Harry said again. He picked up his fork -- again in his fist, they were going to have to work on table etiquette soon -- but waited patiently for Severus to finish serving himself and lift his own fork.

"It's all right, Harry. You may eat now."

It took no more than that for the boy to cram the bacon in his mouth, with his other, forkless, hand, making it disappear faster than Severus would have ever thought possible, as if he were still sure that it would all be taken away. And, from the memories of his relatives, he knew it had been. Still . . . "Slow down, child. The food isn't going to vanish."

Looking chastised, Harry paused briefly with a second forkful of eggs only an inch from his mouth. The fork trembled as the boy eyed Severus, like he was waiting for the signal to start again.

"I just don't want you to be sick, Harry," Severus told him. "If you eat too fast, you will be."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, and ate the eggs, actually managing to chew once before swallowing.

Severus suppressed a sigh. Manners would come better once the child wasn't so afraid of not being able to eat at all, he supposed. Until then, he could just avoid looking at Harry whilst at the table.

After breakfast, Severus showed the boy the rest of the house, including the kitchen, where Harry seemed rather too cheerful looking at where pots and pans and cleaning supplies were kept, much to Severus' dismay. And in the garden, he had to remind the boy that he was not a house elf, again, and would not be expected to do any gardening, but to play.

The image of the boy cocking his head to the side as if Severus had uttered a foreign word when he said "play" would stay with Severus forever. He recalled his own childhood, never a fond recollection at the best of times, which had been almost unremittingly gloomy and forlorn. Almost. This child . . . for him, the word "play" was foreign, but Severus vowed it would not always be so.

Thus, directly after they visited the clothier and had Harry measured and fitted for shirts, trousers, short trousers, pants, socks, sleepwear, shoes and robes, in various colors and levels of decorum, they toured the toy store next door, and Severus told Harry to pick out a few items. He watched the child's face as they went through the establishment, and the look of wonder as Harry took in all the magical toys and their noises and flapping wings and exhortations to "Play with me!" was pure gold.

Harry did not touch anything, but his gaze lingered on several toys that, when Harry tried to select toys that were small and inexpensive -- cheaply made, too, if Severus were to be honest -- with the obvious hope that if he didn't ask for more, that he'd at least get a little, Severus shook his head and led the boy back to their aisles. In no uncertain terms, he told Harry to take the brightly painted, fully functional flaming set of Romanian dragon figurines, the bag of blue and green gobstones, and lastly, the child's starter broom.

He imagined by the end of a week, he'd likely have cause to regret all the purchases, but for the moment, seeing Harry's unadulterated joy was recompense enough.

Like the clothes, he shrunk the toys and put them in his pocket, with a promise to hand them over to the boy as soon as they were home. Then they saw an Optician and had Harry fitted for glasses that had him exclaiming even more excitedly than he had for the toys. At last, they stopped in at the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry held the menu awkwardly in his little hands, up close to his face, but didn't seem to be actually looking at it. He stared at the table and mumbled incoherently when asked what he wanted to eat.

Severus frowned. "You're hungry, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir, er, Father." His new glasses made his eyes brighter, rounder, and he wasn't squinting anymore, which was a definite improvement.

Another thought occurred to him. "Can't you read the menu?"

Red bloomed on the boy's cheeks before he looked away with a one shoulder shrug.

"Harry . . ."

"Sorry, sir!" He put down the menu and folded his hands in his lap, looked down at them miserably.

"Harry, I'm not concerned about your shrugging right now. I'm concerned about your reading. Didn't you learn when you were in school?"

The boy swallowed and shook his head.

"Whyever not?" He didn't seem addlebrained.

Unaccountably, Harry's eyes filled with tears. He swiped at them viciously with tiny fists. "'Cause I'm stupid."

"No. You aren't stupid. Anyone who could remember all the rules in my house is possessed of, at the least, a superlative memory."

"Am," the boy insisted. "Aunt Petunia said . . ."

"I'm sure," Severus said quietly, when Harry didn't finish his sentence, "that your aunt has said many things to you over the years which are simply not true. I've mentioned as much before, correct?"

Harry still didn't look at him, but he jerked his head in a tight nod.

"Just so. Now, were there any subjects you liked at school?"

"Yes, sir. Maths."

"Good. What did you like about it?"

"I can count fast, and numbers're dead easy to write out. There's only ten."

Severus nodded. Tom came to their table to see how they fared, and Severus waved him away irritably. When the man had gone, he said, "See now, that's well done. Why does reading give you trouble? And mind, I won't take the answer you gave before."

Harry's shoulder hitched up. "It's hard to think about."

"The reason is hard?"

Shaking his head, Harry said, "No, sir. In classes, was ofttimes hard to think."

"And why is that?" Severus asked, although he had a couple guesses.

"I'm easily distracted," Harry said, sounding like he was quoting something. "And after morning break, I'm often moody and unpredictable."

"Really. Who told you that?"

"Aunt Petunia."

Severus had mentally said the words along with the boy. He shook his head. "When did she tell you that you were moody and unpredictable?"

"When my marks came in, first year. She said the teacher told her so. And her Dudders was such a good student, 'twas a shame he had to go to school with the likes of me."

"Was . . . Dudders in your class?" He almost choked over the nickname. Merlin's drawers.

"Yes, sir.

"And when he was in class with you, did he ever distract you from your work?"

Harry finally looked at him, expression quizzical. "Sorry, sir?"

"Was he ever loud and obnoxious in your presence, to the point of keeping you from concentrating on your work?" He knew damn right well Dudders had been, but wanted Harry to see for himself. "Did he ever deliberately take your work and ruin it, or goad others into doing so?"

Very quietly, Harry said, "Yes, sir. Sometimes."

Severus nodded. "And during your morning break, after which you were so moody and unpredictable, did your cousin ever attack you or goad others into doing so?"

"Sometimes, sir." The boy looked completely miserable, and Severus finally relented.

"Do you think, if you were not being hounded by that oaf of a cousin every minute of the school day, that you might be able to concentrate on learning to read? And maybe even get better at maths?"

"Maybe," the boy admitted.

"Mm," Severus agreed and gestured for Tom to come over now, that they were ready to order. "We shall have to see."

---

The next couple days passed in a whirlwind for Harry. He tagged after Dappin and helped her with chores, and even though she said she didn't need him to, she always squeaked happily when she saw him. In the garden, he learned the names of all the flowers and plants, and recited them back to his father at dinner, and made his father give that light twitch of the lips that said he was pleased. During the day, Father was often busy with his own school work, he said, and so Harry played either in the garden or in his room, with the new toys his father had given him, especially the broom!

He loved flying, and only wished he could go higher than the kid's broom let him. He was only allowed a few feet off the ground, but his father said that when he was older, he could ride a bigger broom that went all the way into the sky. He'd see them, Father said, at Hogwarts, where they were going to stay during school.

Father had a lot to say about Hogwarts.

The best times were after dinner, when Father would sit Harry in his lap, in a comfy chair in the library and they looked at books together. Father made a game out of learning letters and sounding them out into words, and every evening before bed, he said Harry was very bright and would be reading on his own in no time. At bedtime, Father would tell Harry a story about the Wizarding world, sometimes about Hogwarts and the kinds of things he could expect there -- like real ghosts! -- and sometimes they were like fairy tales that Miss Egglestrom sometimes read to them in day school, with dragons and giants and monsters in.

He still had nightmares, though, awful ones with the red-eyed snake man and the green light that killed the lady. And others, where he still had the collar on his neck, and then Dudley put him in a cage and poked him with sticks while Piers chanted, "Dog breath, dog breath," at him and Uncle Vernon pulled the leash tighter and tighter until he couldn't breathe.

Harry's father never said again that he shouldn't put up the Silencing, and even though Harry did put it up, 'cause he couldn't hardly help it, as it was accident when he was asleep and all, Father always woke him from the terrible dreams and held him close, saying soft things, until he was ready to go back to sleep. Sometimes, he even stayed, sitting on the bed, when Harry'd laid back down, and his hands were gentle as they rubbed circles into his back, or carded through his hair. Harry hardly flinched at all anymore when he did that.

Harry even found a friend, in the garden. A red-banded snake had slithered near him when he was playing Dragon Battle! and its tongue tickled his ankle. He'd asked Father about snakes, and why their tongues flicked out like that, and he'd said they were tasting, so Harry said to the snake, "What do I taste like?"

The snake's head rose a little bit, and it regarded him with surprise, like the other snake had, back at the Dursleys. "You sssspeak?" it asked.

Harry didn't take offence this time, and just replied, "Yes. Aren't there any others who can?"

"Not any more," the snake said.

"Sorry. Um, my name is Harry. What's yours?"

"Name? That isss a man-thing." The snake slipped over his new plimsoll that he was only supposed to wear when playing outside, and touched his bare ankle again with its tongue. "But you may call me Hasssseth."

"Pleased to meet you, Hasseth," Harry said, remembering the manners Father had taught him about how to greet people.

"And I, you, Harry." The snake climbed into a cuff of his new trousers and coiled around his leg. "You are warm, Harry. And taste of ripe summer."

Harry didn't know if that was a good thing, or not, but decided if Hasseth liked it, it must be okay. "You can stay there if you want, and keep warm," he told the snake. "But I don't know if I can take you inside."

"I would not want to be inssside the man-place, Harry. But yesss, you are warm. Thankssss."

Grinning, Harry went back to his game, occasionally chatting with Hasseth and telling it all about Hogwarts, too.

Faster than he expected, it was time to go to the school.

They took a Floo -- which Father said was not the same as "Flew, like on your broom," even if it sounded the same -- like they had when they went to Diagon Alley, the Wizard shopping place. Harry hadn't liked it much when they went through the fireplace, fearing to be burned like had happened a couple times when Aunt Petunia punished him for dropping things in the kitchen. But Father said the fire wasn't hot when the magic powder was thrown in it, and that it was one of the fastest ways for wizards to travel.

Harry didn't tell him that he wasn't really a wizard, and couldn't really do magic, because he didn't want to see the crinkle-eyed look that let him know his father was upset or sad. So he took Father's hand and Floo'd to Hogwarts. He got a mouthful of soot, like he had the last time, and his father waved away the dirt from his clothes with the stick he usually kept up his sleeve, which he called a wand.

They stood in a big room, with all kinds of shiny, spinning things in them, and behind a desk sat Headmaster Dumbledore. Harry hid behind his father's leg, but Father didn't let him do that for long, but put a hand on his shoulder and brought him out to stand in front of him.

"Good morning, Harry," the Headmaster said.

Harry's father squeezed his shoulder a little, so he looked up at the old man with the funny robe and pointy hat and answered, "Good morning, Headmaster Dumbledore, sir."

The man smiled and his bright blue eyes sparkled like twin diamonds and held out a tin with candies in it. "Sherbet lemon, Harry?"

Harry bit his lip and glanced at his father, who inclined his head, so Harry reached out to take one of the candies. "Thank you, sir," he said and popped the treat in his mouth. It was very sweet and fizzed on his tongue. He grinned.

The Headmaster looked over his spectacles at Father and his smile deepened. "You have a very fine young man there."

"Of course," Father said, and his hand patted Harry's shoulder. "He's my son."

Harry felt his chest glow with happiness and sucked merrily on his candy while the two men talked.

"Let me have one of the house elves show you to your quarters. We've had to expand them, somewhat, to accommodate your changed circumstances. I've taken the liberty of assigning an elf to assist you with child care, during class times, if you are amenable."

Harry perked up, knowing what "amenable" meant, but he stayed quiet, like he was supposed to. Father looked over at him. "That seems wise," he said. "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it, Severus. We've had parent teachers here before and I daresay we will again." He looked at Harry again, and Harry couldn't help but squirm under his penetrating gaze. "He looks a great deal like his father, doesn't he?"

Now Father was staring, and Harry tried hard to keep his head up, but it was very difficult, when he wanted to be small and invisible. "He does," Father murmured. "And so soon."

The Headmaster chuckled, and Father's head snapped toward him. He looked angry, and Harry ducked his head quick. But Father didn't say anything mean, and didn't hit or throw anything, but his grip on Harry's shoulder tightened, just a bit. "It's all right, Harry," he said softly. "I'm not angry."

Harry gave him a quick glance, not really believing him, and Father amended, "I'm not angry with you."

Only then could Harry relax.

A few minutes later, they were riding stairs that moved! Down to a long, corridor with a high ceiling and shiny wooden floors that Harry thought he might like to try flying his broom around in. Two ugly statues were at the bottom of the stairs, and someone who looked like Dappin, only shorter and with yellowish eyes instead of green.

"I is Nelli, sirs," the house elf said. "And I is showing youse to your chambers, Master Snape, Master Harry."

"Thank you, Nelli," Father said, and Harry echoed him.

The house elf bowed, smiling happily, and led them down the corridor to a wide set of stone stairs with banisters that would be just brilliant for sliding down. Above their heads, more stairs jutted from walls and even as Harry watched, several of them moved, swinging away from one connection and creating a new one.

"Father, did you see?" Harry asked, pointing.

"Yes, Harry. I told you about the stairs."

It was true, he had, but Harry hadn't been sure what he meant. Stairs just didn't move. "Yes, sir, but did you see it?!"

Father's lips twitched in his half-way smile and he nodded, taking hold of Harry's hand and following the house elf around the back of the grand staircase to a narrower corridor that slanted downwards. They followed the long hallway down to another set of stairs, and past many doors until they came to a blank wall.

Nelli stopped and pointed. "Here is being youse rooms, Master Snape and Master Harry. Master Dumbledore is saying the password is for your changing to whatevers you want. Now the passwords is Chocolate Frog."

At her words, the wall moved, like the stairs, swinging inward. A secret door! Harry clapped his hands together. "Father, did you--"

"I see it, Harry," Father said, but he sounded happy, not irritated, and led the way into their new home.

----

TBC . . .

A/N: Next chappie will have more Hogwarts, some visitors, and some Harry magic. Thanks for all my reviewers. Over 400! How's that for awesome? I should have a new chapter out on Monday or Tuesday, at the latest.