Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, JKRowling does. I am not making any money out of this, and my only reward is the reviews I get...
Author Note: Here it is, the last chapter of this story. I'm sorry it took so long, I've been busy, what with work and all... I don't know yet if I'll write a sequel. Enjoy!
Everything hurt. He felt drained, tired, as if he hadn't slept in days. Empty. At first, he didn't remember why. But the truth of what must have happened hit him hard. The spell he had cast had backfired. Of course it had, and if he had stopped five minutes to think about it he could have prevented it. The spell was supposed to make him trade places with his biological son, someone made of his own blood. But Harry and him didn't share the same blood, because of the Heir Potion.
So the spell must have caused his magic to look all over the world for his lost son, or even worse, to fight the Heir potion, thus causing him to fall unconscious. A potion was in any case stronger than any spells, that's part of why he liked them so much. Nothing could counter a well-made potion.
So the only reason he could still be alive and conscious was because his magic had stopped looking for his son before it was entirely drained, and it could only mean one thing. There was nothing left to look for. Harry was dead.
A terrible feeling of emptiness overwhelmed him. He was alone again. His son was gone, forever. He would never brew potions again, never fly on his damn broomstick, never graduate from Hogwarts. He would never know his father was alive.
He blinked and shook his head, trying to chase away the tears menacing to come down his cheeks. But as he opened his eyes for a second, he saw the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore, and couldn't hold them anymore. Everything was this fool's fault. If it wasn't for him, his son wouldn't have had to play hero again, wouldn't have had to die for their cause. The old wizard he always thought of as a mentor had betrayed him in the most terrible way: he had taken his son from him.
"Go away, Albus" he heard himself say in a pathetically weak voice.
"Of course my boy! I'll leave you two alone. You need to talk."
Before Severus could ask what the old man meant, he was gone, whistling. He heard someone put a chair by his bed and sit on it. Hope began to worm its way into his heart, and he finally opened his eyes.
Next to his bed sat a teenager he had never seen before, but whom he recognised instantly. Lily's eyes, of course, the only thing the Heir potion couldn't have altered. Pale brown hair, soft like Lily's, straight like his. Not taller than before, for lack of enough food growing up…
His son smiled, his concerned eyes shining as he nodded.
"The Headmaster gave me Sirius' real letter."
If his son noticed the growl who almost escaped his lips at the mention of the mutt's name, he didn't say anything about it.
"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you earlier."
"It's alright, I understand why you had to keep it secret."
"Are you okay? With me being your father, I mean?"
"I'm not sure yet. Are you?"
"I've had more time to adjust… Do you want to talk about it?"
"I think you should rest, for now."
Severus wanted to protest. He had been waiting months for this moment, the moment when he could finally talk to Harry as his son and not just some student he despised, and to postpone it any longer was frustrating. But as much as he would like to pretend otherwise, this little talk had taken most of his energy and he had to fight to keep his eyes open.
There would be time to talk, later. His son was there, and safe. They would have all the time in the world to talk about it. For now, knowing that they could be together was enough.
Reluctantly, he nodded and drifted off almost immediately to sleep. The last thing he felt was his son's hand on his forehead, gently brushing the hair away.