Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

A Life Never Lived	By : blade-of-the-shadows Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 15990 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters from Harry Potter, all credit goes to Rowling and I do not make any profit from this fanfic

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Harry stared silently out the slightly grimy window of number twelve Grimmauld Place, trying to figure out what the Black legacy saw that made them move there particularly.
Several months passed since the Great War of Hogwarts, as it was beginning to become a tendency among the people of Wizarding Britain to call, and now they were in the deep of winter. Outside, snow covered everything in a fine layer of crystallized white, making the poor, dirty Muggle neighborhood seem almost magical. The depilated apartment complexes lining the street, the broken toys and wheel-less bikes lying on grassless lawns, the potholed roads and cracked sidewalks people were forced to walk on—no one drove cars as it was too dangerous—all coated in a pretty layer of snow and ice.
In the afternoons, when the sun was at its highest peak and its feeble light at its warmest, the ragamuffin children would rush out in their warmest clothes—usually moth-bitten, oversized coats found buried deep in closets and hats that would hang off their heads by a thread—to build lopsided snowmen and have snowball fights. For at least an hour, the street would be filled with sounds of high pitched laughter followed by equally pitched shrieks, the pitter-patter of small feet contrasting with the heavy thump of large snowballs, and shouts with a loud response as they attempted to build snowmen with what they could find buried under the snow. Then their mother’s would come out, shivering even as they wrapped their worn shawls and threadbare robes closer to their bodies, calling for Simon, or Abigail, or little John to come eat a hot lunch and be tucked in for a quick nap. And at first they would pause in their merriment to complain, pouting at their mothers, and beg for just a few more minutes. But the mothers stayed strong against their child’s pleads and eventually their own exhaustion won over and all would trudge home like mini soldiers from war, to a feeble yet hot meal that would warm their bellies and a thin yet warm blanket that would warm their bodies and soothe them to sleep. A childhood that even the poor was gifted with. A childhood Harry couldn’t say he had without lying.
It was in those afternoons that made Harry want to stay. The Black residence was in no way a fitting place for anyone to live and if it weren’t for Sirius, Harry was quite certain he wouldn’t even be there in the first place. But in honor of his godfather’s name, the raven persevered and acquiesced to the dark décor and dim lighting, the screaming portrait of Walburga Black and the resistant elf named Kreacher that came with number twelve Grimmauld Place.
Due to its gloom-and-doom ambiance, however, Grimmauld Place was usually occupied only by Harry and little Kreacher. Not many came to visit, in turn making Harry a very lonely and bored ‘Savior’. Majority of his time was spent either sleeping or in the library, but Harry always made sure to spend that one hour in the afternoon, watching the brightly smiling children outdoors having their fun. It was his own special way of recuperation after the war.
But today, Harry’s afternoon was cut short, before the children were due to return to their homes. He had visitors today. Some he wished would visit more often, others he would never expect to see again, let alone in his house. One he saw on a weekly basis or otherwise owled back and forth with. Together they sat in one of the many parlors of number twelve, the exception for the particular one they were in being that it had a usable fireplace and lacked any lurking creatures. Harry sat in an armchair close to the fire dancing and roaring from its stone and wood prison, observing his guests with a rather detached expression. He wasn’t too happy that they were interrupting his afternoon. In fact, when the wards let out an alarm and the doorbell rung, he considered ignoring it. Then he figured that if someone actually took the time out of their day to visit him, they were there for something important. Now they were all cluttered into the warm room, a cup of tea in their hands or on the coffee table in front of them.
On one of the couches, the one closest to him in fact, sat Hermione and Ron. The two had been dancing around each other for years until they finally faced each other and now were a rather happy couple. At least, Ron was. Hermione was worried, as she told Harry on their weekly meet, that Ron only wanted her for one thing in particular, as it would seem that it was all he asked her for lately. Something she was finding herself glad that she didn’t give up.
Beside them, on another armchair, was McGonagall. After the death of Dumbledore, the Scottish woman became Headmistress by default, as was one of the many responsibilities of the Deputy Headmistress. Still grieving over their lost Headmaster, McGonagall seemed to have a hard time figuring about what exactly to do with Hogwarts. Reparations had to be paid, repairs needed to be made, schedules had yet to be designated. Rumors were being passed around that Hogwarts wouldn’t be ready in time for next year’s first years. Parents were questioning on their child’s lost year during the war. Would they have to repeat it? It was very straining and stressful on the newly appointed Headmistress and Harry was more than willing to assist. If the woman would ask of his help, that is. Today was in fact the first he heard or saw of McGonagall in many months. She could have died and he probably wouldn’t have known.
The couch beside McGonagall was occupied by two people Harry hadn’t seen since the trail cases for Death Eaters after the war. Lady Narcissa Malfoy and the newly made Lord Draco Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy was currently in a cell in Azkaban after being tried and found guilty by the Wizengamot. The two innocent Malfoys took it rather hard. Neither could find it in themselves to live in Malfoy Manor, not with the horrid memories imprinted on the innocent looking mansion. Instead, they opted to live in one of their many villas, this one located on a small, private island they owned off the coast of some country or the other. The two Malfoys tried very hard to stay out of the limelight and seemed to be doing very well in doing so; the last Harry saw of them in the Daily Prophet was when they moved to their villa, hence how he knew.
Sitting in a conjured chair was in fact the one and only Severus Snape. Harry was torn between relief and fear to know the man had survived Nagini’s attack. Relieved, because he knew that Snape sacrificed himself to save Harry’s hide and the young raven would never be able to forgive himself if Snape died for him. Fear, because he was certain Snape remembered the memories he’d shown to Harry and the youth was positive one day Snape would come banging on his door, demanding that Harry allowed him to Oblivate the memories. Harry didn’t want him to do that—no matter what type of light it put his parents in—and planned to fight tooth and nail to keep the memories. As of yet, Snape hadn’t done so, but Harry was waiting.
Last but not least, sitting in another conjured chair, though a considerably smaller one, sat Harry’s very own personal accountant for Gringotts, Griphook. Due to the whole breaking in and stealing a dragon thing, Harry and Gringotts weren’t exactly on the best of terms at the moment, but according to Griphook, this meeting was too important to allow silly goblin pride to obstruct it. The goblin had just actually finished explaining something to Harry that he had not been quite expecting, and in turn did not know how to react. So he kept his expression blank and chose to stay silent, even as everyone else in the room sat on pins-n-needles awaiting his response.
Ron was first to break the silence, turning to look at Griphook with a bewildered, yet angry expression. “Wait, what was that?”
Clearing his throat, Griphook glanced back down at his papers. “Lord Harry J. Potter bar Black is not the child of the late Lord James R. Potter and the equally late Lady Lily R. Potter ne Evans. His actual heritage, in fact, is that of the currently incarcerated Lord Lucius S. Malfoy and the late Lady Lily R. Potter ne Evans.” His voice was the cold and smooth one of a professional at work. He looked up at Harry. “You, Lord Potter bar Black, are the youngest heir of the Malfoy estate.”
“Impossible.” Narcissa Malfoy’s icy tone whipped through the room like icy lightening, calling attention to her. “I am Lucius’ wife. We have been promised to each other since our days at Hogwarts. Since the announcement of our engagement, he has bedded no other than me.”
Griphook only raised a scaly eyebrow, unaffected by her apparent temperament. “I apologize if this inconveniences you, Lady Malfoy. Your husband, however, had been in a long term affair with Lady Potter up to the day of her death. Lord Potter is indeed their offspring, the result of their copulation.”
The temperature of the room decreased several degrees as Lady Malfoy stood, despite the constant heat given off from the flames confined in the fireplace. “You dare tell me that my husband not only committed adultery, with a Mudblood no less, but that he had the audacity to produce a halfling spawn in the process?!”
Harry’s face stayed impassive during the proceedings in front of him, which included ignoring Lady Malfoy’s comment on his mother. His emotions, however, were in dark turmoil. He wasn’t James’ son? How was that even possible? It…was utterly preposterous. Impossible. His mother…Lily…she would never cheat on James…Would she?
He still had the photo album Hagrid gave him, but he didn’t really need it. The picture of James and Lily was burned into his mind. They looked so happy together, with the infant him right in between. If Lily had been cheating on James, then that would mean that she wasn’t happy right? They certainly looked happy. And he’s even heard stories of Lily and James from Sirius. All of them were stories of how in love they were with each other and how they were joined at the hip. Were they lies? Or maybe they were true, just warped from Sirius’ point of view as their friend, making him unable to see any tension that would be between them? It couldn’t possibly be true; they were Harry’s parents. Besides, Harry certainly did look like a carbon copy of James, only with Lily’s eyes.
Just as the thought formed in his head, Ron jumped up and pointed a finger at him. “That can’t be right. Harry looks just like his dad—like James. How can Malfoy be his father when he looks like that?”
Hermione sighed and rolled his eyes at him. “Honestly, Ron. Sometimes I wonder if you’re really a wizard or not. Obviously, a spell was placed on Harry to make him look just like James, more than likely to prevent any raised suspensions. A very complex and more than likely dark spell. Probably placed on him while he was still an embryo.”
Ron’s cheeks had been reddening with anger and embarrassment, making his freckles stand out, but now his brow dropped and his cheeks paled in confusion. “Embry—wha’?”
"An embryo. That's what you call a baby still in its developmental stages inside of the womb." Hermione said exasperatedly, sighing softly.
Griphook looked at Hermione approvingly. "That's quite right, Ms. Granger. Lord Potter does indeed have a spell placed on him, done so right after he was conceived, by Lucius Malfoy himself—."
Lady Malfoy made herself known once again, still standing. Beside her, Malfoy was trying to get her to sit down. Before she spoke, he had been quietly murmuring to her, more than likely trying to placate her. His pale face had slowly lost its look of horror and was now as impassive as Harry’s, no doubt from many years spent perfecting control over his emotions and facial expression. Something Harry was slowly beginning to learn to do himself.
“Then you’re implying that my husband intended to make a child with that vile woman?”
The goblin shot her a glare. “Not precisely. Lord Potter’s conception was not exactly planned, but neither parents were inclined to…indisposing him. It was in need to be kept in secret that they were having an affair, therefore the spell used.”
Three people kept silently throughout this whole ordeal. Harry, who was trying extremely hard to stay calm so that he didn’t accidentally break something and wake Walburga Black from her portrait; McGonagall, who simply looked lost for words; and Snape, whose expression was rather thoughtful. It was actually him who broke the unsaid pact of silence between the triad.
“My only concern at the moment is over how exactly this information came into your possession, goblin.” Griphook’s eyebrow twitched, but he stayed silent as Snape spoke. “I am not inclined to believe Lily Potter entrusted you with her admissions.”
Griphook cleared his throat picked up a black, leather bound book. “You are partially correct. For many generations, my family has personally oversaw the assets of the Potter vaults and estates. As is, during her first stages of pregnancy, Lady Potter approached me with the mind of setting up a private account for Lord Potter, and also handling the prepayment of his tuition for Hogwarts. Both processes take much guidance and paperwork, and within that time Lady Potter did in fact develop a sense trust with me. It was only after the paperwork was completely did she approach with the topic we are now discussing. There was something she wanted to leave Lord Potter—this book. It explains everything for you, Lord Potter; a diary of sorts. It was originally supposed to be given to you on your seventeenth name day, but due to circumstance, that was unable to happen. She did, however, want you to know the truth. It was to be given to you by me, should something happen to her that prevented her from doing so. Also, she requested a letter written by her to be read by me, again should she not be available.”
The goblin paused, waiting for Harry’s approval to read the letter. Harry drew in a deep breath, his expression finally switching to one of contemplation.
“Griphook?”
“Yes, sir?”
“You said…something about a spell? One that…apparently forced my features to grow in such a way that I resembled James?” The goblin nodded. “Is there…a counter spell?”
“Actually, yes. There is a counter spell. A very painful counter spell, as it rebuilds your entire DNA structuring. Not to mention it will also release the bindings on your creature inheritance, doubling the pain.”
Hermione looked up with a frown. “Creature inheritance? I thought the Malfoys were purebloods?”
Griphook raised one bushy eyebrow. "Not quite, Ms. Granger. A very old ancestor of the Malfoys consorted with a veela. In his time, such things as your back round were not an important thing to most. Only few people of the time believed such admonitions as today's society."
The sound in the room was deafening as everyone—save Harry, Griphook, and Snape—stood and began shouting.
"The Malfoys aren't purebloods?" Asked Ron rather gleefully.
“It makes sense! The Malfoys are related to veelas!” Hermione, her eyes lighting up.
"How dare you give away our information like that?!" Lady Malfoy, tone angry and voice icy.
“Wa—wait! Don’t—.” Malfoy, unable to get a word in as he scrambled for something to say.
"Why, oh why did this have to happen to Harry, now of all times?" McGonagall.
"SHUT UP!" Harry roared, voice amplified by his uncontrolled magic.
Silence washed through the room as everyone turned to stare at Harry, who was now standing. The paintings in the room crashed to the ground and tea cups cracked open, spilling their contents. It was only by luck that Walburga’s portrait had not awakened. His glare swept across everyone in the room, scorching everyone in its wake—except maybe Snape, who was the only person known to make someone cry/wet their pants with one look.
Harry's voice was deadly quiet. "Griphook." The goblin arched a brow at him. "The letter from my mother. Read it, please."
"Yes of course Mr. Potter."
The goblin reached down to grab a thin sheet of paper with flowing, loopy handwriting from the table. Clearing his voice, Griphook tapped his wand twice on the paper, reciting a quiet spell in garbled Goobledygook. A pale apparition arose, taking the form of one Lily Potter. A quiet gasp forced its way from Harry’s throat as his eyes widened perceptibly. The apparition’s mouth opened and Lily’s lilting voice filled the silent room:
Dear everyone,
I know what you must think of me. I know my actions are inexcusable and I know sorry is no way exception but I must say it: I am sorry. Especially to you Harry, and to you too Sev'. This type of betrayal is the worst and I am really truly sorry. But, alas, I do not regret my actions. The things I felt for Lucius were indeed my own and probably really untoward.
A wry, bitter grin twisted Lily’s nearly flawless features. She continued:
Harry, if Sirius and Remus aren't dead, I'm sure they have told you many stories about me and James and I hope they were wonderful tales. But, the truth is that James and I fell out soon after our marriage. Dating was fine, since we both could end it whenever we felt the need. But once married—as we had a wizard's wedding—we realized we were bonded forever and neither of us truthfully wanted that. I began to see other people and so did James. Please, Harry, don't believe I cheated on James—it was a mutual agreement discussed by the both of us. And don't think badly of your actual father, Lucius, please.
Sev'. Oh, Severus I am so sorry. You don't know. Tears fall down my face as I write this.
Indeed, her face was now awash with tears, her voice becoming slightly warped. She took a moment to wipe away the tears and compose herself.
You were my best friend and I messed up, thinking you changed just because you were in Slytherin. But in truth, it was I who changed. I grew infatuated with James. I admit, I also felt for Lucius at the time, though then I refused to acknowledge it. You were right the whole time, and I was too stupid and blind to listen to you. I thought of you all the time, however, Sev' and I regret breaking our friendship.
Draco—
Here, she paused and bit her lip.
Even though I am not your mother, I kindly ask you to treat Harry nicely—he is your brother. And if you won't do it for me, do it for your own pride. If you're anything like your father, you know what I'm talking about.
Professor McGonagall and Harry’s friends, please treat Harry the way you always have. He is no more or no less the person he was the minute before you found out he was a Malfoy. I ask you to give him the support I'm sure he needs, if he's anything like me.
Pertaining to the spell on Harry, only a very strong Legillimens master can properly perform the counter curse on him. And there just happens to be a Potions Master present strong enough for it, or at least he better be there. Griphook has been informed of the counter curse. Harry, love, I apologize beforehand, but the process to reveal your original self is a very much painful, due to your father's veela background.
A bright smile lit up her face and she began to wave.
I wish you all well, and again I apologize,
Lily Potter ne Evans
The apparition slowly dissipated. Silence once again filled the room, almost deafening. All of a sudden Harry’s façade broke, breaking the silence and capturing everyone’s attention.
He sat in his chair once again, with his head down. A sudden shudder shook his whole body and he began to sob quietly, only noticeable by the shaking of his shoulders. Immediately, Hermione rushed forward to rub his back and whisper reassuring nonsense in his ear. Both Narcissa and Malfoy looked impossibly paler than usual. Snape, stoic as usual, was also sitting; eyes closed, lips a tight thin line. McGonagall face had fallen and she seemed deep in thought.
Harry had no other choice than to believe it. There was the hard evidence, in his mother’s on handwriting, her magic signature so similar to his own that he knew deep within that she wrote the letter. Lucius Malfoy was his father. The man his mother apparently loved. He sucked in a gasp as another shudder wrecked his body. The others stayed silent, with the exception of Hermione, who was offering her own comfort with murmured assurances and a warm hand on his back.
This time, it was Draco Malfoy who broke the silence. He cleared his throat awkwardly, ignoring his mother’s hushed protests. The others looked at him, but he waited until Harry’s head lifted and red-rimmed green eyes locked with his own silvery blue. He licked his lips, a nervous habit he was trying his damnedness to break, as he attempted to speak.
“I believe…it is time for us to overcome our differences, Pot—.” Harry flinched and Malfoy’s face paled, growing almost translucent. “I—I mean…Ha-Harry.”
Harry’s name sounded weird coming from his long time arch enemy. The last time the blonde ever said his first name was all the way back in their first year. But Harry attempted to smile, though he was sure it was a rather pitiful one.
“I think you’re right…Draco.”
That was going to take some getting used to, Harry thought silently. The blonde’s name felt weird rolling off his tongue without the accompanying ‘Malfoy’ to dull the effect. Draco himself jerked back a bit in surprise, before composing his features and shooting Harry a playfully haughty glare. The look was so well done that Harry almost believed that Draco was glaring at him until he caught the teasing light in those silver eyes. Everyone else certainly thought it was real, except maybe Snape.
“Of course I am right. Malfoy’s are always right, even when we are in actual fact wrong. And sit up straight. How dare you slouch? Every dead Malfoy in existence must be turning in their graves from your improper mannerisms.”
“Well, every dead Malfoy in existence needs to mind their own damn business—they’re dead.” Harry scoffed out, but straightened in his seat nonetheless. It was an ingrained habit of his to follow orders, something he did if he didn’t pay conscience attention to what he was doing. His mood lightened without his noticing, a fact Hermione did not fail to miss.
She looked up sharply at Draco, whose lips tilted in a satisfied smirk as he too caught on to Harry’s brighter mood. Taking on the responsibility of a big brother already, Malfoy, she thought with a smirk of her own. With Harry no longer needing her support, she rather reluctantly returned to the couch beside Ron. The tall red head wrapped a possessive arm around her waist. Draco noticed from his peripheral, frowning slightly with disapproval—and maybe a bit of jealously—but otherwise returning his attention to Harry.
“Touché, Harry, touché.”
Everyone looked at this in silence, many eyebrows rising past hairlines. Lady Malfoy was frozen with shock, her face screwed with anger and her eyes full of wrath. McGonagall said nothing, watching the exchange with a sigh; her thoughts were on her poor Gryffindor who was about to be victimized to the manipulations of the Slytherins. Snape arched a brow, and anyone could see the approval in his eyes if they took the chance and had the bravery to look closely enough. Griphook was more obvious with his approval, nodding at the two with encouraging noises. The bantering was nonetheless strange in the somber mood, especially between the two ex-nemeses, but no one wanted to stop them and risk Harry’s mood dropping again. That is, until Ron interrupted.
The redhead shoved Hermione away from him to stand, his furious blue gaze flicking back and forth from Harry to Draco and back again. “So that’s it then? You two are just going to get all buddy-buddy now?”
“Ron, things change—.” Harry tried.
“You can’t just get rid of eight years of hate, Harry!”
"As much as I loathe to say it, Weasel, yes there is eight years of unresolved resentment between us. Po—…Harry and I are brothers now, however, and I will treat him accordingly, as is what is only right." Malfoy said, with a glance at his mother. Narcissa Malfoy remained silent, an unreadable expression on her face.
"Yeah, Ron. 'S kind of different now. I'm sure even if we weren't brothers, we would have worked out our differences eventually." Harry said, sending a grin at Malfoy, who returned it with a lighthearted sneer.
Ron looked stricken, "Harry, it’s bad enough being a Malfoy now. You don't have to pretend to actually like one. Especially that git."
Draco stood quickly, glaring down at Ron. "What's wrong with being a Malfoy, Weasel? It is not like your rodent family could compare to us."
Harry sucked in a sharp gas, sharing a look with Hermione. They both knew what was going to happen next. Ron stood, forcing Draco to look up. While Draco was tall, Ron nearly dwarfed him. He pushed Draco back, the element of surprise and Draco’s slight build providing no resistance against the force, and he fell flat on his ass.
"Don't. Ever. Insult. My family. Again." Ron shouted, red-faced.
Malfoy looked up at Ron incredulously. Slowly, his face began to flush in dark anger and he stood quick and graceful, pulling out his wand in one single fluid motion and pointing it at Ron.
"You will regret ever doing that, Weasel." He gritted out.
Worried for his friend’s health, Harry jumped up. "Wait, Draco! Don't hurt him."
Harry knew better than anyone how powerful Draco was. Years of flying hexes and trips to the infirmary made sure of that. He also knew that back then Draco was holding back so that he wouldn’t get suspended; something Harry himself did. Ron had not pulled out his wand; from his expression it was most likely because he was afraid of what Draco would do if he did. Draco still had his wand trained on Ron. Hermione made no move to help, her expression easily revealing that she believed that Ron needed a good ass kicking to lower his pride a few notches.
The raven tried again, taking a few steps forward. "Draco, please."
A moment of silence passed. The tension in the room was palpable, making it almost hard to breath. No one stood to help, other than Harry. Everyone was fed up with Ron’s attitude and the only reason why Harry was helping was because he still believed Ron was the friend he knew from their first year. Slowly, Draco's wand lowered until it pointed at the floor. The blonde sighed and sent a weak glare at Harry, who grinned at him. With the wand lowered, Ron's confidence—or rather arrogance as everyone in the room believed—returned.
"Giving up so easily, are you Malfoy? Cowardly as always, all you Slytherins are—." Draco's fist connected with Ron's nose in a punch so fast, no one but Harry—with his quick, seeker eyes—could see it.
A collective gasp went throughout the room as blood spurted from Ron's nose and this time it was he who fell on his ass. Hermione covered her snicker with a cough behind her hand, though Snape was a lot more obvious with his amused snort. Ron looked up at Draco disbelievingly and Harry felt a sudden sense of pride swell up for his brother. It was not easy knocking over Ron with one punch. Then Ron turned to Harry, who recoiled at the nasty sight of slightly mucus-y blood covering the lower half of Ron’s face. The bright red blood contrasted horribly with his hair and freckles.
“Habry, dis git jus’ punshed meb!” Ron spluttered out, waving one hand comically around as his other hand occupied itself with holding his nose.
Draco snorted. “Astute observation, Weasel.”
Harry swallowed his own chuckle and raised an eyebrow at his friend. “So he did, Ron.”
Ron stared incredulously at him. Hermione was no longer able to hold in her giggles, a delicate snort coming from her throat as she fell on her side in laughter. She was ignored, only for the reason that everyone was focused at Harry and Ron. More blood gushed down Ron’s face as his anger grew, his increasing heartbeat causing his blood to flow faster. It looked broken to Harry.
“Habry…he punshed meb an’ yer no’ goin’ tah do nobing?”
“Well…” Harry shrugged. “You did kind of deserve it.”
"Habry, dis git punched meb an’ ya tell meb I deserbed it?” Ron scrambled up, his face dark with anger…though that might have been the blood. “Wha's happened tah ya? Ya're becombing more like dem a’reaby!"
"What?” Harry glared at him incredulously. “Ron, everyone in this room knows you deserved it! First, you insult the Malfoy name for no reason. Then, after Draco already spared you from a hex that would have sent you to hell and back, and then right back to hell again, you insult him straight in the face!” He snorted. “Technically, you deserve more than a punch to the face! And what do you mean I'm becoming more like them? Like who? All I know is that I'm no one but Harry. J. Pot—." Suddenly, Harry's face crumpled and he sagged back into his chair. A sob escaped his throat and his body shook violently.
Draco scowled. Just when he got Harry into a better mood, the stupid Weasel had to go and ruin it. Said Weasel stared at Harry for a brief moment, no guilt on his face or in his eyes, before muttering 'wimp' and running out. Draco sent a quick and nasty hex after him—smirking slightly as he heard a yelp—and hurried over to Harry. Staring hesitantly down at his brother, Draco did not know what to do. His hands hovered anxiously over Harry's back, twitching with the need to help him. Growing up in a very household that abided by the creed of every man to himself left Draco a not very consoling type person.
He jumped slightly as warm hands laid over his, gently pushing them down out Harry's back. He looked up into the understanding, warm brown eyes of Hermione Granger. She smiled at Draco encouragingly, amking his heart thump loudly. He swallowed and began to tentatively rub soothing circles in Harry's back, mimicking her actions earlier. Hermione's smile grew and she bent over to speak softly into the melancholy raven’s ear.
All of a sudden, Lady Malfoy cleared her throat loudly, effectively catching the attention of everyone but Harry, who was still unresponsive. She sniffed daintily at him and then turned to Griphook. The goblin arched a brow at her haughty expression.
"I do not believe words on a silly paper, no matter who wrote it.” She fluttered her hands at Griphook. “Is there a way to prove these claims, goblin?"
Griphook’s scaly, lipless mouth thinned and he glared at Lady Malfoy. Snape snorted and muttered something about the tempers of goblins. Draco and Hermione focused on reviving Harry, who was steadily going in a downward spiral of depression. As he wasn’t well versed on mastering his expressions, Harry couldn’t just recall his blank look from earlier after it broke the first time.
"Actually, I was just about to get to that, Lady Malfoy. Lady Potter requested beforehand to prepare a Blood Tree parchment for those exact reasons." He turned to Harry, who looked dully at the goblin, his awareness briefly restored by Draco and Hermione's combined efforts. Griphook hesitantly pushed a parchment towards him, not wanting to trigger a bad reaction from the star-crossed youth.
The parchment itself was unusual. Deep black in color, it curled slightly at the edges; giving an almost sinister look to it. But what surprised most was not the parchment but the blood quill that lay atop it. It was dark red in color, the vein in the middle of the feather pale and empty, the dark magic behind the utensil restricting it to only write in the blood of the holder. Blood quills were very rare and forbidden unless in ultimately necessary circumstances. The only way to get one was through the Ministry or through Gringotts.
Griphook spoke carefully. "Lord Potter. If you would please sign your full name on the parchment with the blood quill. At the bottom, please"
Nodding mechanically, Harry reached for the quill, gripping it tightly. He was not unfamiliar with blood quills. Umbridge, the evil bitch, forced it on him as punishment years ago. Harry looked down at the black paper, suddenly dreading the results. It's not that he didn't believe his mother, but to see it, for there to be valid proof….Harry didn't think he could do it.
Snape sent a half-hearted, weary glare at him. "Just do it already, dammit."
Harry stared at his old professor in surprise. The brooding man never cursed unless pushed to the edge, preferring to insult others using complex words that nearly meant the same thing and made the victim feel stupid at the same time. Harry felt ready to just explode with a curse of his own. Feeling a sudden bond with the distressed Potions Master, Harry hurriedly wrote his name across the bottom of the parchment.
Slight pain shot through from Harry’s fingers, into his hand and up his arm as his name appeared on the back his hand, exactly as he wrote it on the parchment. But the pain was disregarded as flowing red lines appeared on the parchment above Harry's name as soon as he finished the last letter in Black.
The lines began to form words, a separate line connecting Harry's name to them. Faster and faster, the words—no, names—appeared till the whole page was filled. Indeed, Harry's blood line was extensive, from both sides of his family. But it was only three names, ones above Harry's own, that everyone could not tear their eyes from.
Below it read:
James Remulus Potter (pureblood descent)=Lily Rose Potter (squib-born and pureblood descent)—Lucius Scorpius Malfoy (veela and pureblood descent)
*Imagine a line right here going down*
Harry J. Potter bar Black (veela and pureblood descent)
The slightly lighter red names of Lily and James indicated that they were dead, given that Lucius' and Harry's were a darker shade and both were currently alive. Between James and Lily's names was a red double hash mark, representing their marriage. Between Lily and Lucius' names was a red single hash mark…their affair apparently. And straight under that single hash mark, a single red line led to Harry's name.
Draco broke the stunned silence. "Well, there is your answer, mother. Harry is indeed my half-brother.”
Lady Malfoy’s face was sallow, her eyes flickering with anger and something…else. It sent shivers down Harry’s back. Something dark. She whirled around, exiting the room. A moment later, the front door of number twelve slammed, the tremor from the strength behind it finally waking Walburga and the portraited woman began to scream about ‘dirty, filthy Mudbloods being her home, desecrating the Black legacy and whatnot’. Harry sighed, ignoring the screaming woman in turn to address the others in the room.
“Thank you, Griphook, for coming to tell me this. And everyone else—thanks for coming to, even though you could’ve have rejected. I—.” He shuddered and a haunted look appeared in his eyes. “I think I need to be alone for a little while.”
Hermione stepped forward to rest a concerned hand on Harry’s arm. “Are you sure you need to be alone, Harry?”
Harry paused, before nodding his head firmly. “Yeah. I need to…think. Wrap my head around this, and figure out what I’m going to do.”
She eyed him for a moment before sighing, knowing that she would not be able to change his mind. “Alright, Harry. Firecall me if you need anything—I finally convinced my parents to let me register our fireplace to the Floo network. The address is Tooth Fairy.”
Harry grinned lightly. “Okay.”
The two hugged and Hermione kissed Harry on the cheek before leaving. Griphook came forward and shook his hand.
“Your mother was a good woman, Lord Potter. I recommend that you do not look down on her for what she did. She loved Lucius Malfoy and she loved you as well.”
Harry took a deep breath. “I know…thank you, Griphook.”
“You are most welcome, Lord Potter.” Then the goblin was gone.
A slightly awkward silence permitted the room. Snape was now standing, regarding Harry with his black, unreadable eyes. The look made Harry fidget with the need to straighten his clothing and fix his bird’s nest atop his head. Draco also fidgeted, but with the nervousness of someone who knew not how to show affection but wanting sorely to do so. He swallowed hard and stepped towards Harry.
“Harry…this will probably sound a bit strange but you are welcome to come with me. I…you are my brother now, Harry, and I will take care of you. I can promise you that.”
Harry’s grin was wobbly and his eyes glistened with tears. “Thank you, Draco.”
Before Draco lost his nerve, he leaned forward and pulled Harry into a hug. The raven stiffened for a moment, in surprise, before he relaxed and returned Draco’s hug. To Harry, the blonde smelled like lavender, rain, and home. He didn’t know how to describe what ‘home’ smelled like exactly, but he knew that where ever Draco was, that was where ‘home’ would be. He took in a deep breath and tightened his grip around Draco. The blonde blinked, but also tightened his own hold and buried his face in Harry’s hair.
From his position at the side of the embracing brothers, Snape’s eyebrows were risen in shock. His expression stayed otherwise impassive. It was, however, amusing to see the two hugging with their contrasting heights; Draco a good head and shoulders taller with his height of over six feet. Then the two separated and Harry nonchalantly brushed the tears from his eyes before they could fall. He smiled up at Draco, who returned it and looked over at Snape.
“Let’s go, Severus.”
Snape sighed softly through his nose, before glancing at Harry. “Boy…”
“Professor.” Harry’s gaze flickered down Snape’s physique. “I see you are doing much better. That’s good.”
“Yes…” Snape snorted. “That infernal phoenix was great help. The tears of a phoenix—.”
“Negate the poison of basilisk venom.” Harry said softly, brushing his fingers across his arm where a small, silvery scar was all that was left from his adventuring in his second year. “I am well aware.”
“Hn. Do not give into your sorrow, boy, it will not do anyone well if you do. Draco.” With a snap of his cloak, Snape was out of the room.
Draco shot Harry a grin, snickering at the raven’s bewildered expression. “Welcome to the family, Harry.”
And the blonde was gone. Harry was left slightly confused, but with a warm feeling in his chest. He now had a family. Not one he would have expected, but a family no less.
Walburga, who had quieted briefly, gave a particularly loud screech. Harry jumped, his heart thumping painfully against his ribs, and scowled in the general direction of the portrait.
“Damned woman…” He stomped off to try to close her curtains.
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A Life Never Lived