Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Breaking Forwards	By : lastcrazyhorn Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > General Views: 13749 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Not mine. J.K. Rowling's fandom. She's makes money off these stories and I do not. Nor will I ever. Harry Potter is all hers. sniffles But the weird twisted shit? Muahahhaa.

Chapter List
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Hermione looked up in surprise at the knock on her door. Pomfrey had been screening all of her visitors; so it wasn't as if someone dangerous was waiting on the other side of the door.

"Come in," she called out softly.

It was Ginny, Neville and—and Harry?

Surprisingly, it was Neville who broke the silence first. "We heard that you were going to be released soon," the boy said tiredly.

Hermione looked at him carefully and was surprised to see dark smudges present under his eyes; as if he had long been fighting some kind of unknown, internal demon.

Slipping from her bed, she laid her book down behind her and stepped closer to her visitors.

"What happened, Neville?" She asked, laying her hand on his shoulder lightly.

"You know, the usual," he grinned. "Classes, Quidditch, nightmare causing slime—all the regular stuff."

Beside him, Ginny burst into hysterical giggles, and she watched silently as Harry drew her into his arms; letting her gasp out her feelings against him.

"Slime?" Was her incredulous question.

"Yeah," Neville snorted softly. "Goo. Sludge."

She stared back in silent mortification.

"Liquid crud?" Harry offered in a soft voice. "Dad and I think it's the same stuff I was cleaning up in my detentions earlier this term."

"Dad?" Hermione squeaked in surprise.

"Oh yeah," Harry answered with a slight grin. "Didn't anyone tell you? Snape adopted me."

. . .

"Dad?" Harry asked, sitting on the edge of Severus' bed in his darkened bedroom.

"How did it go?" Was the wearied response he got. In order to brew the Revelios Familias and teach all of his classes, Severus had pushed himself to the limit and now he was paying the price. Madam Pomfrey had ordered him to bed for no less than three consecutive days, and had put Harry in charge of making sure it actually happened.

That, and she had threatened them both with unpleasant sorts of bodily harm if they disobeyed.

"I talked to Ginny and Neville and then we went and talked to Hermione."

"Did you tell her about—?"

"I may have referred to you as 'Dad' once or twice," Harry said with a grin.

A muffled snort was his answer.

"Dad?" Harry asked, sliding under the warm covers with Severus, his socked feet pressing against the man's shins as he curled up against his adopted father.

"Harry?" Severus murmured in slight surprise at the boy's unusual display of tactile neediness. He wrapped long arms around the teen's narrow frame. It was amazing what just a few months of regular food intake could do for the body of a growing boy. True, Harry was still skinny, but he was no longer gaunt. He no longer seemed brokenand lost.

"Ginny kissed me after we left Hermione's room," Harry confessed in a low, yet troubled voice.

"And this is not a good thing?" Severus answered carefully.

Harry huffed softly, "It was just like kissing Cho. I didn't . . . I didn't feel anything at all. Aren't you supposed to feel something when you get kissed?"

"Only if the person means something to you, Harry."

"Well, that's the thing though," Harry said, pausing as he pulled Severus' arms more securely around himself. "She means a lot to me—more than any other girl, really, but all I could think was, 'Gee, that's wet.'"

Severus congratulated himself silently on not snorting aloud; instead keeping his silence as he thought about what his son had said.

"It's . . . possible that you simply have not found the right girl yet," he said at last.

"Or?" Harry prompted, hearing something else in Severus' words.

"Or, you may simply not prefer the company of women." Severus admitted softly. "You may be, in a word, 'gay.'"

"I've thought about it before," Harry answered in just as quiet a voice.

"Being gay?"

"Yeah," Harry whispered. "I mean, I thought after, well you know with my Uncle and all?" He didn't have to finish his thought; Severus could feel the trembling of his limbs from where they were pressed against him.

"Go on," Severus prompted after pressing a light kiss to the top of his head.

"But you said that love, that sex," the word was whispered hoarsely. "You said that it wasn't about force or taking. You said it was mutual care between two people, right?"

Severus smiled a bit in the dark. Harry had just summed up the point of more than a dozen short conversations they had participated in since the beginning of their familial relationship.

"Correct."

"So if—if I were to like boys instead of girls—."

"Or both," Severus amended.

"Yeah," Harry grinned. "Well, I wouldn't have to like someone like Vernon, right? Does this make any sense?"

"I would hope that you wouldn't be drawn back to someone like Vernon," Severus answered with just a touch of growl in his voice.

"But, it'd be okay to like a guy, even though it was a guy that, that hurt me?"

Severus shifted in his bed, sitting up with his back against the headboard and gathered the boy back to his chest once more. "Such a thing would be acceptable," he answered, letting the warmth in his voice speak louder than his words.

"So you wouldn't freak out if I thought I was gay?" Harry squeaked, not quite daring to look him in the eye, even after dragging them both through such a long and awkward conversation.

Severus merely shook his head. "Harry, I promised to love you forever when I agreed to be your father. So no, the idea of you loving someone else does not bother me."

"Even if that someone else is a guy?"

"Even if that someone else is a Hufflepuff!" Severus retorted with a bark of laughter.

"What if they're both?" The boy teased.

"As long as they treat you acceptably—and appropriately, I will approve," Severus' eyes were warm and Harry let out a visible breath of relief at the sight.

"I might not be gay, you know," the boy added after some comfortable silence had passed.

"Or you might be after all. It doesn't matter. Either way, you're my son."

Severus could tell that his had been the correct response by the way Harry seemed to melt backwards into him.

"Thanks, Dad."

. . .

Arthur Weasley sat slumped over the table in his kitchen, all of the week's Daily Prophets spread out in front of him. In the other room sat Molly in an armchair; a number of photo albums both in her lap and also on the floor around her. Wizarding pictures of smiling redheads stared up at her, and she smiled back wanly as she looked through each page.

Kingsley had discovered a supply of what turned out to be Arthur's hair at Rodney's house, along with a plentiful supply of polyjuice. It seemed that Rodney had been faking his way into Arthur's bed for years, and yet somehow neither he nor Molly had ever known.

He had known for years that Rodney was . . . unusual, but he had never thought him capable of all that had been discovered thus far. Upon learning that Percy and Ron were really just his nephews, Arthur had expected to feel relief, but instead his grief had only grown. Rodney had stolen so much from him, from them. His mind was still reeling from the complications of the situation, and there was still more being discovered every day.

A knock on the door shattered the uncomfortable silence in the house. Arthur waited a moment to see if the sound had jarred Molly from her grieving, but he heard nothing from that side of the room. The knock sounded again and he found himself stumbling to his feet, moving upon limbs that no longer seemed to work right; bones that no longer seemed to know how to hold him up.

He hobbled to the front door and then without looking, he pulled it open and goggled at the two people who were solemnly waiting there.

"Might we come in?" Severus asked, stepping inside and pulling Harry behind him before he could process their existence.

With a wave of his wand, Snape started tea and started unshrinking a number of small packages from inside his dark robes.

Always black, Arthur's short circuiting mind thought as he watched Severus in motion. Is it because he grieves constantly as well?

"Mr. Weasley, why don't take a seat?" Harry asked, maneuvering him easily back into his recently vacated seat.

He watched in befuddlement as the boy quickly cleaned the table off, removing the many newspapers that had accumulated there over the past endless week. Around them, Severus was moving like a whirling dervish through the Weasley kitchen; washing the dishes, clearing the counters, finding the teakettle and boiling the water for the tea that was slowly appearing before him.

Harry was opening the packages in front of him, keeping a running commentary on what it was they had brought. There were little pink cakes, a wide assortment of scones, chocolate digestibles, peppermint sticks, small dainty sandwiches and more. At one point in the madness, he looked up and realized that one of the two had managed to get Molly in there as well, and although she still wouldn't look at him, it did give him some comfort to have her beside him.

Abruptly the hubbub ceased, and Arthur looked down to see a cup of steaming tea sitting on the table in front of him, fixed just the way he liked. His forehead creased as he tried to remember if he had done it, but just then he felt Harry's hand alight on his arm.

"I've watched you enough times to know how you like it, sir. I hope it's okay?" Harry peered down to watch as he took a careful sip.

"It's lovely, my boy. Just perfect," he answered tremulously, just above a whisper.

The smile that Harry bestowed on him was wide and beaming, and irrationally he felt a tiny sense comfort at seeing it. He could see Molly watching them from across the table, but he knew it was too soon to say anything to her.

"You should have known it wasn't me!" He remembered yelling the last time they had spoken.

His cheeks glowed at the recollection, and he bowed his head over his tea to hide his face from his wife. Rodney had only come to her for sex. Was it possible that their relationship was so bland that someone could impersonate him just like that?

"Arthur?"

He looked up, blinking away his tears, and stared into Severus' face. The man was now seated beside him, and as he looked around surreptitiously, he saw that Harry was now beside Molly.

"Why are you here?" He whispered. He watched in surprise as the man shifted and actually squirmed in discomfort from his question.

"You have always claimed Harry as part of your brood, yes?" Severus pointed out and then forged ahead quickly before Arthur could argue the sensibility of such a thing now. "Since I adopted him as my son earlier this term, I suppose that . . ." Severus shifted once more, setting his mouth in something close to a grimace. "I suppose that this makes us family."

"Surely you must be joking!" Molly spat out in response. Unknowingly, Arthur was nodding along with her.

"I can understand why you wouldn't want to have yourselves aligned with a former Death Eater . . ." Severus began, only to be cut off by another outburst from Molly.

"If you are only here to poke fun at this household, then I must insist that you leave immediately!" Molly screeched, rising unsteadily to her feet. At her side, Harry rose too, catching her arm when she began to sway dangerously.

"It was my idea that we came here today!" Harry cried out, practically forcing Molly to sit down and then adding something that looked suspiciously like a sticking charm to her backside. "You're my family," he added, wide green eyes blinking back at them both imploringly. "And family should stick together. Especially now," he added in a shaky voice.

. . .

After making it back to Hogwarts' Infirmary, Colin Creevey had been moved to the memory damaged ward at St. Mungo's. Dennis had continued to visit him since then, trying desperately to get his brother to remember something-anything-about his former existence.

Although Colin now could call him by name, it was only by the value of enforced repetition that allowed him to do so. Weeks had gone by, and the best response that Dennis had gotten from his brother was the occasional flicker of remembrance that sometimes lit Colin's eyes when they were talking.

At times, Colin was severely depressed, and the healers had assured him and Professor McGonagall-who had accompanied Dennis on every visit thus far-that such a thing was perfectly normal in amnesiac patients. Unfortunately, that day was one of those bad days, and after a few minutes of talking and getting no response, Dennis sighed in defeat and got up to leave.

Just as he was about to close the door behind him, Colin called out to him. "Den'?"

Dennis froze in his tracks. Colin had only called him 'Dennis' since losing his memory.

Cautiously he turned and looked across the room to where his brother was still seated at his writing desk. "Yeah Col'?" He asked hoarsely.

There were tears in Colin's eyes, and wet tracks on his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Den. Oh god, I'm so sorry," Colin cried out, looking horribly young and vulnerable in his hospital issued pyjamas.

Dennis took a step back into the room and closed the door once more. "For what, Col'?" He prompted, not yet ready to completely hope that his brother was back in his right mind.

"For not telling you why we ran; for not talking to you when I needed you. I'm sorry," Colin cried as he talked, and Dennis hesitantly took another step forwards. "But mostly I'm sorry that I tried to attack you, that-that I tried to d-d-do," he stuttered, slumping in on himself in the process. "That I almost became Ron, that I almost hurt you," he gasped out, tilting forwards bonelessly in his anguish.

"Why Colin? Why did you do that?" Dennis stood only a few feet from his brother, fists clenched at his sides; blinking furiously as he tried to keep his tears at bay for just a little longer.

"I had to keep you safe," Colin was bawling now, arms wrapped around his middle, his voice muffled from his head being slumped against his chest. "Mum told me to keep you safe. Mum told me, and I couldn't any other way and I just wanted to protect you."

A knock on the door and Dennis pivoted around to see his head of house staring worriedly down at them both. "Are you boys okay?" McGonagall asked him.

Dennis felt his head nodding, as though something else were controlling his body and he was just a passive observer floating above it all.

"If you're sure . . ."

Abruptly his consciousness reasserted itself back in his mind, and he smiled bravely back at the older woman. "Yeah, I think we're getting there," he answered softly, licking his lips and realizing for the first time that they were trembling.

"I'm just outside if you need me."

"Thank you," Dennis answered, glad when the door closed again. Despite only being thirteen, he felt a thousand years old just then. Carefully he stumbled over to one of the free chairs next to his still weeping brother.

"Okay," Dennis nodded to himself, reaching out a tentative arm and grabbing his brother by the shoulders in a one harmed hug. "It's gonna be okay," he whispered again. He was no longer sure exactly whom he was trying to reassure with his words.
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Breaking Forwards