Dirge of Emerald
Disclaimer: I have red hair, not blonde; I'm American, not British; I'm only fifteen, not...however old Rowling is; I am completely and utterly broke, not rich; although I'm trying my hardest, and editing my novel every day, I am not an author. I am not J.K. Rowling, and unfortunately do not owe the H.P. World. And goodness me, that was long. xD!
Summary: Upon receiving a letter to inform them that Harry Potter will no longer be in their neglectful care, the Dursleys are elated. So is Harry—until he finds out that Severus Snape is to be his new guardian.
Time Frame: This takes place in the summer after Goblet of Fire, and in fifth year. Yes, Umbridge will be there; I'm going to have fun torturing her. I hate the bitch as much as I hate Lockhart.
A/N: This is not something I would usually write. In fact, this is my very first Harry Potter fanfiction. Take it easy on me, eh? Yes, this is a Severitus fanfiction...like, Snape is Harry's dad. It won't seem that way at first, but at maybe about chapter five or six Severus is going to start noticing that Harry is changing. Soon enough, Harry will find out that the guy is his father. I'm not saying how, but it won't be the cliché letter idea, haha. Anyway, enjoy!
Chapter One: Lemon Drop, Severus?
If he had to choose (on the threat of a painful death), Severus Snape would pick Saturday as his favorite day of the week. There were no dunderheads to teach, no atrocious essays to grade, no need to get up at the crack of dawn—and no crazy old headmasters calling you down to their office, just to ask if you wanted a Lemon Drop. He did not want the Muggle sweet, thank you very much, Albus Dumbledore.
Yes, Saturday was indeed the day for relaxation.
Especially during the summer.
Of course, being able to without being lectured by McGonagall, Snape enjoyed a nice lie-in before staggering out of bed at quarter to eleven, which by that time the sun was high and bright in the cloudless, forget-me-not blue sky. After showering and washing his hair at least twice (Dumbledore had informed him, with that infuriating twinkle in his eye, that it was getting greasy again), he dressed in his usual black robes and stalked into his kitchen (he most certainly did not stalk. He billowed) to make himself some breakfast.
Snape ate slowly, trying to take as much time as possible. For, on a gorgeous day like this, there was no telling if one of the teachers would make an attempt to get him outside for once.
No, thank you; he had potions to brew.
So, it was with an uncharacteristically light heart that Severus finished his breakfast of eggs and bacon, and headed down to the dungeons to begin brewing said potions. The day dragged by peacefully, without any sign of something unusual happening. By lunch time, Snape was in the best mood he'd been in for a long time; he'd finished twelve different potions (he wasn't the Potions Master for nothing, after all) and had sent six of them up to Madam Pomfrey, and saved the rest for his private stores. After all, it was nice to have a little bit of truth serum on you, in case a certain Potter boy broke the rules the next school year.
As it was widely known, Severus dislike Harry. No—dislike was too weak a word. Actually, Severus Snape hated Harry Potter.
However, he told himself, he had good reason to. He and Potter's father had not been the best of mates. Quite the contrary.
As quickly as the thoughts of Potter came, Snape banished them. He needed no Harrys to ruin his good mood. Dumbledores and Trelawneys were already quite adept at doing so. Which was why his good mood vanished when, while he was heading back to his private quarters after delivering the potions to Madam Pomfrey, he heard the sound of somebody muttering to themselves.
"Hello, Severus!" Trelawney greeted him in her misty voice. "I was gazing at my crystal ball when I saw—"
"That's nice," Snape said flatly. "Did you need anything, or did you simply come to waste my afternoon with gibberish?"
Looking rather offended, Trelawney shuffled a deck of what seemed to be cards. Why the the hell would she need cards to tell the bloody future? Severus wondered, amazed at the woman's never-ending stupidity. "Actually," she said, this time a bit brusquely, "headmaster Dumbledore wishes for you to go see him."
Snape gritted his teeth. "Let him know that I'm occupied at the moment."
"But, my dear boy, you're merely standing in the—"
"Occupied, you infernal woman. Go tell him to keep away for another hour or two." Pivoting on his heel, the Potion's Master swept down the hallway into the dungeons. He was nearly back to his quarters when Professor McGonagall came over. She looked irritated.
"Severus," she said tartly, "stop this nonsense and go to Dumbledore. He—"
"Needs a favor, I'm sure," Snape growled, resisting the sudden urge to face-palm. "Did Trelawney send you?"
McGonagall nodded. "She said you called her an 'infernal woman'?"
"Yes," said Snape silkily, "I happened to call her such."
She smiled a bit reluctantly. "Good boy."
"I'm no child, Minerva."
"Sometimes you behave as if you are," she muttered. "Especially when you're grumbling about something somebody did to 'ruin your perfect mood.'"
"I'll let you know that I was occupied—"
"Doing what? Skulking around the school?"
"I do not—"
"Yes, you do, Severus."
"Stop interrupting me, woman!" Snape snarled, and took a deep, calming breath. "All right. Obviously, Dumbledore needs me; otherwise, he would not have sent you. Merlin knows that he'll simply floo himself straight into my living room and ask me if I want a Lemon Drop with that damned twinkle in his eye..."
McGonagall snorted. "Nonsense. In fact, he seemed a bit worried."
Ignoring that last bit, Snape stormed down to Dumbledore's office and let himself in without knocking. "I'm here," he announced darkly. Though I'm not glad about it, he added silently.
Dumbledore looked up at him, that stupid twinkle in his eye. "Severus, my boy," he said pleasantly. "Sit."
My boy. How old did he think Snape was? Ten? Still, he sat, feeling uncomfortable under Dumbledore's happy-go-lucky gaze. "Minerva said you requested my presence," he said, breaking the short silence.
"Lemon Drop, Severus?" Dumbledore asked him with a smile.
"No, thanks," he said, a bit harshly. Dumbledore's smile merely grew.
"I insist, Severus."
"No thank you." Snape glared at him. Someday, just to see the old man's reaction, he was going to have to take him up on the offer of the sweet. Hopefully, the wizard wouldn't go into cardiac arrest. "Dumbledore, tell me why you requested my presence or I'll leave."
Dumbledore sighed. "Always straight to the point," he said quietly, almost to himself, before clearing his throat. "It seems that we've uncovered something...interesting."
"Interesting how?" Severus asked suspiciously. He continued: "Good interesting, or bad interesting?"
"I'm afraid it's a bad interesting," Dumbledore said. Suddenly, he appeared grave. "We have reason to believe that one of the students in our school has been living in unsatisfactory conditions for quite a while now. He's been neglected, and quite possibly beaten by his relatives."
Something dark and deadly was uncoiling in the pit of Snape's stomach. If it was somebody he cared about...(of course, he didn't allow himself to care too much about somebody, but it was the thought that counted).
"It's not somebody too close to you," Dumbledore added, as if he'd read the younger man's thoughts. Snape immediately Occluded his mind. Although the old man always insisted that he never used Legilimency on him, Severus always had the sneaking suspicion that the wizard lied about that.
"I see," he said, feeling a bit more comfortable now. "And who is this young man of whom you speak of...?"
"It may come as a bit of a shock," the headmaster warned him, and his thoughts went immediately to Draco Malfoy. The boy had everything. If he was being abused, Snape would gladly have a heart attack and perhaps even die. Again, he would do it gladly. Wait, no...If it was Malfoy, he would eat every single wretched Lemon Drop Dumbledore had. And then he would be fat, happy, filled with sugar, as round as a pancake, and most likely have the worst case of diarrhea known to man.
Oh, that was a nasty image...I wonder what a fat Albus would look like? Or a fat Minerva...A fat Potter. He had to stifle a snort, and nearly missed Dumbledore's next words.
"A house-elf came to us with his suspicions."
Didn't the Malfoys have a house-elf named Dobby? No, Severus reminded himself, still entertaining himself with the thought of a fat Dumbledore, the insolent Potter boy freed the thing in his second year. Lucius wouldn't shut up about it for weeks.
If not Draco, then who could it be? A few seconds later, watching Snape carefully to make sure the man didn't go into cardiac arrest at the sound of the poor boy's name, Dumbledore gave him the answer to his question.