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Volatile	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4926 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am not making any money from this story.

Chapter List
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Thanks for all the reviews! It looks like this story will need to be three parts instead of two, as I wasn’t able to resolve it all in one chapter.

Chapter Two—Like Father, Like Son

            Harry could feel Snape looking at him that evening at dinner in the Great Hall. He kept his head down, making sure he never glanced at the Head Table even by accident, and picked his way steadily through his food.

            “Are you all right?” Hermione put her hand on his arm and leaned towards him. Harry smiled wanly at her. His best friends had somewhat ignored him earlier in the year, since they were so involved in their own dating problems. Now they went out of their way to make sure that he didn’t need help or support.

            “An argument with Snape,” Harry said quietly. Everyone knew that he and Snape were related now, since they’d chosen to announce it, but Harry still didn’t like gossip spreading around the school. “He wanted me to talk to him about things that I’m not ready to talk about.”

            Hermione frowned and shot a glance at Snape. Or Harry thought so, anyway. He kept his eyes determinedly on his food and didn’t turn to follow her look.

            “He looks upset,” Hermione whispered. “Whatever it was, it must not have gone the way he wanted.”

            Harry appreciated the fact that she wouldn’t pry until he chose to tell her. “It was,” he said bitterly. “Enough to make him assign me a detention tonight and tomorrow.”

            Hermione winced, but Ron, who had heard Harry’s words, looked outraged. “He can’t do that,” he said indignantly. “He can’t punish you like a teacher when he’s your dad.”

            Harry had to smile, because he could remember when making an admission like that would have caused Ron to choke and splutter for half an hour. “I don’t know how dads punish kids,” he admitted, and took a swallow of pumpkin juice. Plus, most of those probably don’t apply to me, since they’re for little kids and I’m going to be of age in eight months.

            “Well, my dad would make us sit by ourselves in our rooms sometimes, with all the toys out of the way.” Ron paused to take a gulp of his juice. “Or we had to apologize to everyone we’d hurt. That could take all day, with the twins.” He rolled his eyes, and Harry smiled again. “Or we had to go to bed without food.”

            Harry hunched his shoulders and didn’t respond. If Snape used that last punishment, Harry would stop speaking to him. No, he didn’t know everything that had happened at the Dursleys’ house, and Harry saw no reason to tell him, but he knew enough to realize how horrible a punishment that would be.

            Maybe that would be the reason he’d use it, then.

            But a minute later, Harry shook his head irritably. He didn’t need Hermione or Draco to tell him he was being unfair to Snape. Snape was sometimes still stupid, with the way he acted around Harry, but he wasn’t deliberately cruel, the way he had been when he didn’t know Harry was his son. So he would do something else.

            But anyway, it didn’t matter, since he had chosen to punish Harry like a teacher. And the detention would probably begin soon, so Harry pushed back his plate, stood, nodded to his best friends, and went stalking out of the Great Hall like a martyr.

            He didn’t get very far before warm arms wrapped around him and a voice murmured in his ear, “You look like you’re walking to your death. Care for some company?”

            Harry tilted his head back to kiss Draco and then continued on, his heart lighter than before even though he was trying to maintain his scowl. “Yes,” he said. “Even if you can’t talk Snape out of this ridiculous detention.”

            “Did you talk back to him?” Draco asked, matching his steps to Harry’s without a pause. He hadn’t asked what Harry’s “offense” was earlier, and Harry found himself absurdly grateful for that. He didn’t want to go into lots of details, he thought, not all the time. He had believed that he’d have to spend less and less time talking about details the further he got from his defeat of Voldemort. He’d already gone through the hard confessions with Snape and Draco—telling them he was Snape’s son, that he was Voldemort’s Horcrux, that Dumbledore had intended for him to die so that the Horcrux in him could be destroyed, and that he wanted them both to be a part of his life. It should be easier after that.

            But it didn’t get any easier, and Harry was slowly starting to figure out that that was because now he had to be a boyfriend and a son, instead of only talking about being.

            “He wanted me to talk about the Dursleys,” Harry said. “I wouldn’t. And he wanted me to promise to give this spellbook back that I’d learned a lot from, including how to brew better potions.”

            Draco was silent. Harry looked at him and surprised a thoughtful expression on his face—not that Draco was never thoughtful, but Harry would have expected to see something simpler, less complex, there at the moment.

            “Neither of those sounds like an unreasonable demand,” Draco said cautiously.

            “I told him that I didn’t want to talk about the Dursleys right now,” Harry said, his anger growing hot again as he remembered the way Snape had reacted to that. Like I’m a child. Like I don’t know what’s best for me, and I’ll just explode in a pile of stress one fine morning. “He said that he thought I never would, and I should, and on he went, sounding like he knew best, like he already knew everything about me.”

            Draco’s hand closed around Harry’s wrist, fingers delicately stroking the skin above his pulse. “He doesn’t,” he whispered softly. “And he wants to. You know how impatient he gets when he doesn’t have all the details of something yet, whether it be a battle plan or a Potions recipe.”

            “But he needs to let me make the decisions about that!” Harry came to a stop in the middle of the corridor, ignoring the fact that he might be late for the detention, and scowled at Draco. “He’s been patient so far. Why is he pushing now?”

            “Because he’s been so patient so far.” Draco stared at Harry and then rolled his eyes. “Because he’s getting impatient. Why is that so hard to understand?”

            Harry scowled at the floor in turn. It sounded so simple to everyone else, but it was hard for him, because—

            Because it was hard to talk about. But he didn’t think Snape or Draco or anyone else realized that, at least how hard it was, because he’d kept silent so far.

            Harry sighed and worked his hand gently back and forth in Draco’s, leaning in to lick at his lips. “Why are you the only one who understands both of us?” he whispered.

            Draco’s laugh was breathless, and his hand worked its way down Harry’s back, heading for his arse. “I hope I understand you better than I understand Professor Snape,” he breathed against Harry’s lips. “It would be rather disturbing if I didn’t.”

            The reminder of Snape made Harry pull back from Draco’s lips with a sigh, though he really would have liked to stay and forget the detention. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said, and stroked one lock of Draco’s hair into a curl.

            Draco caught his hand before he could break away. “Just give him a chance, will you?” he asked.

            “I’ll try,” Harry said, squeezed back one more time, and then broke away and began to run.

*

            Draco watched Harry go, and shook his head, running one finger over his lips. He hoped that things would work out between Professor Snape and Harry, but they were both so stubborn it would be a miracle if they did it smoothly.

            Then he remembered the advice he had given Harry, and his smile widened and became smug. Yes, it would have been a miracle if they’d had to do it on their own, without help. But Draco had given Harry his advice, and he knew that Harry usually followed his advice now unless he had an excellent reason to do otherwise.

            They would get there. They wouldn’t ever be the perfect father and son, Draco thought wisely, but they would be better off than they were now.

            Because of him.

            It didn’t matter—almost—that no one would probably ever know that, either. Draco had enough reason to feel proud of himself without that. There had been bets in the Slytherin common room about how long he’d manage to hold Harry Potter’s attention.

            Draco was winning most of them, thanks to the Galleons he had secretly bet on himself, and the rumors he had spread about supposed “rows” between him and Harry.

            In fact, he thought as he started back to Slytherin, I should start thinking of a new one.

*

            Severus kept his head down when Harry entered his office. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to look up and see contempt and anger in his face this evening. Albus would certainly have done so, but Severus was not a Gryffindor and would carefully disclaim all Gryffindor attachments should someone ask him to do so.

            Save for one boy who had been Sorted there largely because Severus had not had the raising of him.

            I must do something to ensure that he trusts me and speaks to someone about his childhood, if not me. Severus looked up at last when he realized that he had given Harry no instructions and Harry would simply stand in front of his desk and wait for them for as long as necessary.

            The anger and the contempt were not there. Instead, Harry was studying him closely, the way he used to do in Potions when he especially wanted to avoid detention. Severus hardened his heart against the tumult that those memories sometimes stirred and nodded to a stack of cauldrons that Slughorn’s first-year class had managed to thoroughly dirty. Despite Severus’s responsibility for Defense now, he still preferred to have the cleaning of the cauldrons and vials to himself. There was no telling what disasters Slughorn would create otherwise.

            “Your task is to scrub those,” he said.

            Harry looked at the cauldrons and nodded once. Then he turned back to Severus. “What else, sir?” His voice was perfectly neutral.

            Severus placed his fingertips together and wished he knew whether this was a peace offering or whether Harry was struggling hard to control his emotions so that he would not explode. “Did you wish for other work?”

            “No,” Harry said, and for a moment his face jerked. There was the hard struggle to control his emotions, Severus decided. “I just—expected you to assign me more. Never mind,” he added hastily, in a more familiar tone, and turned away to the cauldrons.

            Severus watched him out of the corner of one eye. He hadn’t said that Harry couldn’t use his wand. He wondered if that meant Harry would take advantage of the lapse. But Harry picked up a wire brush and a sponge with only a small grimace of distaste, and turned to the bucket of soapy water that Severus had standing ready.

            In the past, Severus had rarely troubled to watch the students he set to doing chores, other than to make sure they were not breaking the rules. This time, he found himself glancing up time after time to watch Harry’s experienced movements as he peeled and poured and scraped and scrubbed. It was hard to see his face from this angle, but whenever Severus caught a glimpse, he saw that same neutral expression.

            How often has he done this, or something like this, in search of the approval of his guardians, which would never come?

            Severus took a deep breath. He could not yet punish the Dursleys, particularly when he didn’t yet know how much punishment the Dursleys deserved.

            And might not ever know.

            That was the most maddening thing, Severus considered, rolling a quill back and forth between his palms as Harry stooped to wet the sponge again. Harry had admitted to enough abuse to make spells Severus had forsaken, or sworn to forsake when he stopped being a Death Eater, rise out of the depths of his mind. But there might be more. Those spells might not be enough. As long as Harry’s lips remained closed, however, he could not prove it.

            Harry had finished the cauldrons long before Severus was ready to face him again. There hadn’t been many; Severus had stood still for a long time before he chose them, unsure whether he should give Harry many or not, and finally had erred on the side of caution. Harry dried them, stacked them, and then turned around to face him. “Was there anything else, sir?”

            Severus stared at his son, and wondered what in the world he could say. They were still locked apart from each other—by the argument, by his decision to punish Harry with detentions, by Harry’s distrust. He could attempt to smash those barriers again tonight, but that might get him locked out with all the more force.

            He had to press his son, for his own good. But he would hurt him if he did.

            Finally, Severus shook his head.

            “Good,” Harry said, and then he stepped towards Severus’s desk. Severus leaned back, mouth filled with too much saliva, and clasped his hands in front of him. It seemed as though Harry was approaching him, for the reasons and in the way he had yearned for, but he had learned long since not to make too much of his hopes before they became real. Hopes died more easily than anything else Severus knew.

            “Look,” Harry said. “I’m sorry for being—unreasonable.” It seemed as though he had to force the word out. “I didn’t really mean to be.”

            Severus thought of many things he could say, including an accusation that Harry had been more than unreasonable, but to give in to his emotions at the moment would destroy this unexpected progress. He simply nodded instead, and maintained his silence, and watched. That tactic had often served him well when he was a spy or listening to Albus’s odd, rambling, seemingly pointless points.

            “But I think you know enough already.” Harry cocked his head at Severus. “Why do you need to know more? It’s hard for me to talk about, and it’s hard for you to hear, and all it does is get you angry.”

            Severus at least had an answer for that. Perhaps it was not the best answer, because it would not give his son the best perception of him, but he suspected Harry would prefer harsh honesty to silken lies. Enough adults had lied to him in his lifetime.

            “If I do not know how much they hurt you,” he said, “I do not know how angry I should be, and how much harm I should wish upon them.”

            Harry blinked. For a minute, he tapped his lips with one finger, and as he often did, Severus tried to remember whether that was a gesture of his own or Lily’s. The only thing he could remember that it resembled, though, was one of James’s, and he cut that thought off so as not to bring resentment into the conversation.

            “I reckon I understand,” Harry said slowly. “But what if anger and vengeance aren’t what I need from you? What if I need something else?”

            “Then I will endeavor to provide it.” Severus judged that he could lean forwards, a bit, and Harry would not immediately back away in wariness. “But my anger, my desire for vengeance, are natural parts of my reaction. I cannot imagine that they are foreign to you, either, from the way you killed Bellatrix.”

            Harry stared at him, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “But her crimes were recent. The Dursleys haven’t done anything severe to me for years. Doesn’t that mean you’d go after them in cold blood?”



            “The heat of my blood does not matter so much to me as the heat of theirs,” Severus said, before he could consider or measure his words.

            Harry blinked again. His smile wasn’t so far behind. “I really appreciate that,” he said. “I think there’s a part of me that’ll be five years old forever who really appreciates it.” He sighed. “But I can’t let you hurt them now.”

            “Why not?” Severus asked, unsure if he should be more angry that Harry was giving him an ultimatum or comforted that he had managed to touch a child-like part of Harry, the part that was the age Severus would have liked to make more comfortable for him.

            “Because that would make it too real for me,” Harry said. “I know I can’t ignore it, and maybe someday soon I’ll talk to you about it. But I don’t want to deal with it right now. And—this sounds horrible to say, but I really did get used to what they did. I wanted them to hurt when they were mistreating me for the first time, the first time I was really hungry or the time Aunt Petunia locked me up when I turned my primary teacher’s hair blue. But it would seem like overkill now. Do you understand?” He looked anxiously at Severus.

            Severus took a deep, slow breath. Perhaps he did. At least Harry was acting as though Severus’s opinions mattered, giving him small details that would substitute for the larger ones, or could, if he was wise enough to let them. And Harry had said that he might discuss it someday, when he was more comfortable.

            It would be more comfortable for Severus, of course, if he spoke of it now. But if he could arrange both their lives so that they would be most comfortable for him, then Lily would never have died, and Severus would have known she was carrying his child soon after their drunken night together, and she would have divorced James and married him. None of that had happened. It was worthless to imagine it had.

            “Very well,” he said, and Harry’s face shone with disproportionate gratitude. Severus was reminded, again, that Harry had grown up thinking adults the enemy, especially as the ones he trusted died around him. He leaned forwards. “But there are other things we have to discuss.”

            “How you punish me?” Harry asked.

            Severus nodded. Harry hunched his shoulders and looked away with some of the same sullen expression that he had shown the other day.

            “I will not take food from you,” Severus said. The litany made him grind his teeth, but it was necessary, and he knew Harry would be reassured by hearing it spoken aloud. Severus had often relied on silent understandings with those important to him, especially Lily, who he sometimes irritated or drove away by speaking. But Harry needed the words. “I will not lock you up in a small dark cupboard for hours. I will not ask you to pretend that you don’t have magic, or don’t exist. I will not beat you.”

            “They didn’t beat me,” Harry muttered, but dipped his head in a short nod of acceptance. “I don’t like you punishing me with detentions, either.”

            “The other professors will do that,” Severus said. “I cannot ask them to stop. And if you do something in Defense class or in the corridors that affects me in my capacity as a professor, then I will do the same.”

            Harry eyed him over one still-raised shoulder. “I didn’t say that I minded the others doing it. Just you doing it.”

            Severus raised his eyebrows. “And what kind of punishment would you suggest when you speak to me disrespectfully in class or hex one of your classmates?”

            “How about no punishment?” Harry asked.

            Severus shook his head. “I must at least remove points, if you will not allow me to assign you detentions. I cannot have the other students alleging that I treat you differently than I treat them, or Minerva will try to interfere. I doubt that either of us wants that.”

            Harry shuddered. “No, thanks. I like her well enough, and I’m glad she supports us, but I don’t want the Headmistress of the school calling me in for a chat on how to get along with my father.” Severus forbade himself to smile at Harry’s casual use of the word. “I—well, points would be all right, I reckon. And you could have me write lines. I don’t mind that so much.”

            “Very well.” Severus would have been horrified at himself half a year ago, letting his most hated student dictate the terms of his punishments given, but he was not that man any longer and Harry had long since ceased to be that boy. “And as a parent? I will try not to do things that frighten you or hurt you. However, I must have some means of keeping order in our house.”

            Harry shot him a baffled glance. “I just—I don’t think you have to talk like that. About keeping order, like I’m some kind of little kid. I won’t run around the place eating Potions ingredients or breaking your vials.” He still sounded faintly disbelieving, as if he thought that he and Severus would never live in a house together.

            “Really.” Severus stared at him evenly. “And do you think your friends Weasley or Granger are never punished?”

            “I can’t imagine Hermione doing something that would make her parents angry enough to punish her,” Harry said. “If they had to, they probably just took her books away. She’d hate that.” He smiled faintly.

            Severus ignored the temptation to return the smile. “Stop avoiding the question, Harry.”

            That dark scowl Severus had dreaded seeing took possession of Harry’s face again. “I don’t know, all right? I’ve never had normal punishments, and we don’t have a normal relationship. I don’t see why we can’t just go along and wait until something bad enough happens to warrant a punishment. After all, maybe I’ll never do anything and you’d just waste a decision if you made one now.”

            Severus sighed. Harry had been abused, but he had also been indulged, and that was the side of him speaking now—the boy who thought nothing of running around the school after curfew or risking his life if it would help someone or solve a mystery. “Even after you are of age,” he said, “I am still your father. I think I have shown that I know how to take care of you when you are injured, to fight for you, to defend you against those who would wish subtle harm on you, and to keep you from the unfair assaults of classmates disgusted by your parentage. But I must learn the other tasks of a parent. I am asking you to help me.”

            Harry looked so utterly mulish that Severus knew they would get no further tonight. He held out his hands in a gesture of peace. “Think on it. And think, too, that it will be Christmas soon, and we will spend the holiday together.”

            Harry gave him a startled look, and then nodded. “All right,” he muttered. “But I still say that I won’t do anything wrong.”

            Severus chose to ignore this and rise to his feet for the first time during the conversation, moving forwards. Harry stood where he was and accepted the embrace Severus offered stoically, although he leaned forwards at the end with a little sigh and tightened his own arms briefly.

            “Thank you for coming to me and being as reasonable as you were,” Severus said. “I appreciate the concession.”

            “Thanks for listening,” Harry said, and slipped away from Severus with an embarrassed smile. “I reckon we aren’t horrible at being father and son, are we?”

            “No, we aren’t,” Severus said softly, and told himself to remember that smile the next time Harry did something that irritated him.

*

            paigeey07: Thank you!

            SP777: Harry honestly doesn’t see anything wrong with the possession of the book, for the same reason that he doesn’t see anything wrong with keeping silent on his childhood: Snape has been content to leave them alone until now, and it isn’t a problem that’s hurting anything.

            polka dot: Yes. They announced it in the last story.

            yaoiObsessed: Luckily, Snape is starting to understand Harry better now, too.

            thrnbrooke: Thank you!

            kate: I did end up making it longer, since I think it would be rushed to resolve the problems in just one chapter.

            Snape is trying to make up for his past mistakes, and Harry knows that. Snape also did a lot for him in the last story that Harry hasn’t forgotten. But when he tries to strong-arm Harry into doing something, then Harry will very much resist that.
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Volatile