Best of Me


Disclaimer: Fanfiction. Fanfiction. Fans don't own jack. Therefore I, as a fanfiction author, own nothing. Especially Harry Potter and Co. See? Simple.

Warning: Um, I'm a huge DracoxHarry shipper so don't be too surprised later if Snape is facing the possibility of his favorite student as his son- in-law. In other words, beware the slash monster. Oh, and I have no idea who to pair Snape up with so suggestions are greatly appreciated and eagerly awaited.

A/N: Did I mention I need someone to pair with Snape? I did? Okay, then, um, I was thinking about submitting this in response to the Severitus Challenge but I have no clue about the rules. Anyone wants help me out? Please?

This chapter isn't really funny as it's just a set up for the rest of the story. In other words, the future chapters shouldn't be quite so...blah. Hopefully.


It's amazing that he'd never needed it before. Of course, I he had than maybe he wouldn't be losing what little mind he had left after his life as Boy Who Survived trying to find on little piece of paper.

Harry Potter ran a dusty hand through glassy wayward locks and sat down with a thud on the grubby attic floor. As a seeker, he could catch a Snitch before the other team had even scored so you'd think that would be quite a bit more difficult than trying to find one's own birth certificate in a small attic. Wrong. The green-eyed Gryffindor gave a self-deprecating smile as his Quiddittch musings brought to mind another Seeker. Draco Malfoy would have an absolute field day with this one; Golden Boy brought low by one bloody muggle document. At least his Slytherin counterpart would never know about this failure as the mere thought of getting his hundred galleon pair of imported dragon hide shoes setting foot in a dirty muggle room would cause the tall blond to shudder in horror. Almost worth it, really.

But, back to the birth certificate. His birth certificate because despite everyone in the wizarding world recognizing him on site, the muggle world demanded documentation of his existence before they agreed to hand over his drivers license although that seemed to be a mixed blessing. Thanks to the broken down unidentifiable car that Aunt Marge had 'gifted' them with (all hopes being that Harry would drive it and immediately expire in a horrific highway accident) the teen had a tiny amount of freedom, transportation that wouldn't get him in trouble with the Ministry, and, unfortunately, a truckload of errands that he could now do for his poor overburdened family. But, if he was away from home then they couldn't use him a punching bag and all around scapegoat.

Still sitting morosely amongst the towering city of unmarked cardboard boxes and shadowy toys of Dudley's childhood, Harry briefly wondered it his Aunt and Uncle had simply burned the precious document. But, no, then they could never be rid of him since he'd have no way to get a job and leave. Confident now that his proof of living was somewhere nearby, the smudge-covered wizarding savior stifled a dust provoked cough and allowed his famed green gaze to sweep over the room once again..

.And stopped as something shimmered from a dark corner near the back. Curious but trying desperately not to get his hopes up, the lanky teen stood slowly and carefully made his way towards the origin of the shimmer, absently brushing off his jeans as he went.

Sure enough, stuck between two boxes full of schoolbooks that his cousin had never really used, his birth certificate came free with a tug that landed him back on that famous arse with a short but heart felt curse. And, once the cloud of debris his fall had given birth too settled, the boy in question grabbed a relatively clean corner of his oversized gray t- shirt and attempted to clear his lenses enough that he could read the document he'd unearthed.

It appeared, for all intents and purposes, quite Muggle and average. Except, of course, for the tell tale gleam that hinted at it's less than mundane beginnings. Curious to see what his Wizard's birth certificate must look like under the careful illusion it bore, the orphan slunk quickly as he could down the stairs and to his room.

A few minutes and one loose floor board later and he was muttering the revealing charm under his breath and tapping the paper, excitement and a strange sensation of foreboding whirling in his stomach as the wizard document slowly emerged from the dreary hospital document.

It was mesmerizing, as most wizarding papers are, the lettering, intricate and the animated seal of authenticity, a phoenix burning and rising, as beautiful as Dumbledore's own. So entranced with the magical parchment, Harry nearly missed the words it bore completely.

Harold James.. Evans? Okay, that's not right. Evan's was his mother and Aunt Petunia's maiden name but she'd been married to his father when she'd given birth to him, hadn't she? Despite himself, his eyes continued on, morbidly curious to see what else this all-important piece of paper would reveal.

And wished he hadn't. Not only did the bloody thing reinforce that his mother had NOT been married to his father at his birth, his father hadn't even been his father.

Vaguely aware that he was in a mild form of shock, dull forest eyes stared at the 'Severus Snape' staring back from where 'James Potter' should have been.

His father was Snape.

His potions Professor had knocked up his mum.

Half his genetic material had been donated by the most abhorrent teacher to ever grace the halls of Hogwarts with his greasy presence.

Once again, Harry James Po-uh, Evans/Snape found himself sitting on the floor of his muggle relations attic, and silently wondering what he had done in a past life to deserve this kind of karma. Out loud, he merely let out a weary, "Bloody hell," and made a wistful wish for one of Madam Pomphrey's headache potions. He could feel a migraine coming on.


A/N. Sorry if it's a little choppy but I had to get the idea down. Eesh, now I don't even know if I should continue.

But, if I do, here's a quick summary of Chappie2:

Harry decides that living with a Deatheater/Spy for Voldemort is preferable to the Dursleys and plots.

The Potions master learns that he knocked up Harry's mum.

We learn that the Potions master has a weird sense of humor as far as house- elf names go.