Call It Love 

Completed: January, 2004

Pairing:  HP/LM

Warning: Slash; Mpreg; Rape

Summary:

Author's Note:  I'm sorry.  Before I even begin: I'm sorry.

Chapter One

There was quite a bit that Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, had to regret and even more that he had a right to wish had never happened. There was the death of his parents, the event that gave him his ever-annoying nickname, The-Boy-Who-Lived; he had a right to wish they were alive, and parts of him still did. In his third year he had convinced his godfather not to kill Pettigrew, the man who had betrayed his parents. It was a decision that haunted him for many years, one that had allowed the rise of the Dark Lord and the death of many innocent people, but now it seemed unimportant if not necessary.

Up until five years ago Harry had longed for a different life - he’d wanted to know his parents, he’d wanted Pettigrew dead, he’d wanted the Dark Lord to remain a shadow in some deep forest, alone and helpless. However, five years ago, he had given birth to his son. At the time it was not a joyous occasion, he had not been thrilled and, in fact, had refused to so much as look at it, afraid that it might look like its father and even more afraid that, like everything else in Harry’s life, it would be doomed by association.

During the summer between his fifth and sixth years Voldemort had found a way past the wards guarding the Dursley home and Harry had been taken, listening to the screams of his relatives as he was apparated away. After two weeks of constant torture he had come to fear Voldemort far more than he had ever thought possible, though he still routinely defied the Death Eaters.

Then had come the plan. The magnificent, brilliant plan that had left the Dark Lord beaming down at him in a way far more disturbing than any Harry had seen the previous weeks. The years of dark magic had left Voldemort incapable of producing his own heirs, and using just anyone did not appeal to him, using Harry did. For some reason the two of them looked very much alike and Harry was very powerful. It seemed perfect. Lucius Malfoy had been the one to force the various required potions down his throat and rape him, holding his head into the pillow when he became tired of the ceaseless insults, none of which made much sense. Harry had been desperate to get to him because, despite what Lucius may have told him, he wanted the situation to be as uncomfortable for the older wizard as it was for him.

He had not been closely guarded for the first few days after success had been confirmed. Voldemort was counting on the famous Gryffindor bravery to keep Harry from harming himself, but that bravery, while present, took a very different turn than expected. Harry refused to give birth to something that the Dark Lord had sanctioned, something that was the product of hate and pain, and attempted to kill himself the first chance he got.

He couldn’t even say he regretted having tried. It was the only choice he’d had at the time, the only thing he could do to keep something innocent from falling into the hands of something so evil. Besides even that, had he not done that they would not have chained him to the bed and the chaining, though painfully frustrating and debilitating, had lead Pettigrew to help him escape. Well, help wasn’t the right word; Harry had been beyond asking at that point and, having only been released for short periods throughout the month, he was even further past the point where he could be of assistance.

Throughout his captivity he could claim, proudly, that he had not cried once. He hadn’t begged, though after the first few torture sessions he’d stopped acting up, but the moment Dumbledore wrapped his arms around Harry’s shaking, weak figure he had broken down. He’d sobbed for nearly an hour and only stopped when he had become too tired to continue.

The months of his pregnancy were passed in silence; Harry had refused to return to classes while pregnant and, despite his own reluctance, could not bring himself to abort the child. It was determined by Dumbledore that after it was born Harry would have some time to adjust and then be given the choice to keep it or not.

‘Adjust’ was the kind way of putting it. The child was removed several weeks early due to complications, most of which related to Harry’s decreased appetite, and Harry refused to so much as look at it. Had it not been for the willingness of much of the staff to help, Dumbledore would have had to find the child a home elsewhere.

Much to the surprise of everyone it was Snape who was the most willing. Once Harry had recovered enough to take notice of the people around him he noted that the former Death Eater seemed almost happy when holding the child. There was even a time when Harry caught him smiling at it, nothing large, just a tight little terse smile that seemed unnatural on the Potion Masters' face and succeeded in making the baby cry.

Draco was the one who finally convinced Harry to hold it, to look at it. He’d come in, sat down and picked it up, studying it for nearly half an hour in silence before announcing that other than the eyes, it was most unfortunately a Potter. Later the nose would also take on the unique Malfoy sharpness and the hair, while black would become sleek and silky, but Draco had been correct otherwise. As Harry held the baby for the first time he found himself staring down at a pale child, with a very slight golden tint to its skin, mussy black hair growing out in places, and the chubbiest cheeks Harry had ever seen. The eyes, which had retained the same shape as Harry’s, were a very pale blue-grey. Three years later they would even discover he needed glasses.

Once the bond was formed, urged on again by Draco who insisted his little brother liked nothing more than to be held by Harry, there was the matter of names. Malfoy refused to call it James and even Harry admitted it was too cliché, but he did like it and eventually went with Evan James Potter, the first name being a form of his dead mother’s maiden name.

It had been at that point, the first time he’d been alone with the baby after naming it, looking down at the small, round face, his eyes scrunched up and a thumb stuck firmly in his mouth, (he refused to accept pacifiers) that it struck Harry he couldn’t find it within himself to regret anything. Had his parents been alive, if he hadn’t let Pettigrew go free, if Voldemort hadn’t risen, if he hadn’t been captured, if any number of things hadn’t happened in the exact way they had Harry would not have been sitting in the window seat at two in the morning holding the small child that he was suddenly so proud of. His son, his Evan.

____________________

Five years later:


Severus Snape stood in the hallway of Hogwarts, glaring down at a small child that barely reached his waist, a small child with silk-fine black hair, lightly tanned skin, and unusually light blue-grey eyes framed in silver glasses. He scowled slightly and watched the cherub face grin back at him, entirely unafraid. “What are you doing running around the school unattended, Potter?”

The five-year-old swayed slightly, his bright purple robe, a gift to him from the headmaster, swayed around his calves. He’d grown too large for it some time ago and his red and gold snitch socks clashed horribly, but he refused to stop wearing it, much to his father’s dismay. “Hiding.”

“From what?” The grin turned impish and the boy shook his head, ignoring the strands of black hair falling in his eyes. “There are rules about wandering these halls unattended, you know. Or are you, like your father, above the rules?”

Despite how it might have sounded to others, the words did not seem to affect the boy who put a finger up to his lips and motioned for the professor to kneel down. After a moment of looking up and down the hall, as though he were looking for something he knew was there, but could not see, Severus kneeled.

The boy cupped his mouth in his hands and whispered, rather loudly, “I’m playing hide and seek with Father.”

Raising a skeptical eyebrow, his eyes suddenly focusing very certainly on a spot that he had seen shimmering in the hall the boy had come from. “And where, exactly, do you intend to hide? You are aware that this part of the castle is forbidden to you.” The child had been heading towards the dungeons, a place that was most definitely out of bounds unless he were being escorted.

The little grin split the face wider and he lowered his voice so that only the professor could hear, “That was the point.”

Severus raised the eyebrow further and watched as the shape of a 22-year-old Harry Potter emerged from under an invisible cloak. “Evan James Potter, what are you doing sneaking around down here?”

Evan turned to face his father, his eyes wide and innocent as only the Potter child could do. “What do you mean, Father?”

“You know exactly what I mean. You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“I’m not?” He tilted his head to the side, his smile dropping into a frown and his lower lip pouting out. “I’m sorry; I thought this was the way to the Hufflepuff common room. I was gonna hide in there.”

Severus bit back laughter. He had seen this act far too many times to fall for it and so had Harry, however, five years had taught them that no amount of lecturing could change Evan’s Slytherin nature and Harry simply ruffled the carefully combed hair and snickered at his son’s disgruntled face. “Hey, I need to talk to Uncle Severus. Think you could go down to the kitchen with Winky? I’ll be down to join you for lunch in just a little while.”

He nodded and almost immediately the house elf Winky popped up, looking flustered. “Master Evan, what is you doing down here without your Winky?”

Evan allowed himself to be led away, turning back only long enough to stick his tongue out at his Uncle Severus while his father’s back was turned.

Harry sighed as he listened to the footsteps receding down the hall. “God, he is a handful.”

Severus chuckled, the smiles that had looked so forced all those years back, came naturally now. “As you yourself were, I’m sure.”

“Me? Trouble? Severus, as you well know, trouble was not even part of my vocabulary. I was locked in a cupboard for not answering ‘yes uncle’ to every question. I promise you, getting into trouble was the last thing on my mind.”

Severus turned to catch Harry’s bright green eyes, now staring off in the direction his son had left. “Yes, I’m sure you were a saint at home, but that does not account for your behavior here.”

Harry chuckled and turned around to face his colleague again; he had taken the DADA position shortly after graduation. “When I was here trouble found me, but I won’t say it was unwelcome. Although, thank god for Winky or he might have already driven me insane.”

Shortly after his decision to keep Evan, the house elf had approached him, offering her services. It had been Dumbledore’s idea, but Draco had, once again, been the one to talk Harry into it. There was no way that he could make up a year over the summer and then attend school without some form of help. A house elf was ideal and Winky was very much in need of an honorable position or she was likely to drink herself to death. Hermione had thrown a fit for all of ten minutes, right up until she saw how happy Winky was, walking around, rocking the little bundle in her arms while they studied.

Severus turned around and started to walk back towards the dungeons. He’d had an alarm set up to warn him if Evan were headed down any unapproved of halls. Despite what he might tell Harry to his face the child had gotten to him, he adored him, and if anything happened to the pint sized Potter he’d be devastated. “Winky may have been a great help, but I’m beginning to think she’s color blind. Every time I see the boy he’s wearing those socks and they match nothing he owns, not even his shoes.”

“Oh, those.” Harry rolled his eyes, speeding up to match the taller man’s stride. “Dobby knitted them for him at Christmas and he won’t take them off, not even to wash them. I’ve managed to get them away from him a few times, but he just cries himself blue in the face until I give them back. He thinks they’ll make him a Gryffindor.”

They stepped into the Snape’s office and Harry took a seat in a chair while Severus began sifting through the ingredients on his desk. “Why would he want to be a Gryffindor?”

“Sirius told him I was one, and that my father was one, so he’s decided he has to be one. I’ve told him it doesn’t matter, but he insists.”

Snape found what he was looking for and handed it to Harry. It was a plant used to lure and capture certain smaller dark creatures in the forest. “That child is more Slytherin than any student I have at the moment; probably more so than even me. He takes manipulation to new levels.”

“That he does.” Harry stuffed the plant in his pocket and grinned. “Want to hear his latest?”

“What has he done now?”

“He’s been asking me for months about my father and I’ve been evading it...”

“Potter, hasn’t Dumbledore taught you avoidance is never the answer?”

“Quite. So, I gave in and told him what happened, well, the PG version, anyway.”

“PG?”

“A muggle rating system, now shut up, Severus, you’re ruining the story.” Harry ignored the glare. “Then he asks me, ‘if your father’s dead, does that mean I have no grandfather?’ I have no clue where he got that, but I told him yes, because lying wouldn’t do any good. So, he gets quiet, thinking really hard, and then he looks up and asks ‘but you said Uncle Sirius was like a father to you.’ I told him yes again, because I had, although not to him. He must have overheard me talking to Sirius.”

“He doesn’t say a word about it for days and then, yesterday, we went to see Sirius and Remus and he threw his arms around Sirius, yelling ‘Grandpa Sirius’.”

Snape’s mouth did a very uncharacteristic thing and fell open. “He didn’t?”

Harry nodded slowly, holding in his laughter as he remembered the look on Sirius' face, “That’s not the worst of it. Someone, I can’t imagine who,” he took a moment to stare pointedly at Severus, “told him they live together, so while Remus was trying not to laugh, Evan looked over at him and said 'Grandma Moony.' When I asked him, he said ‘Uncle Severus says they're married, so if Sirius is my grandpa that makes Moony my grandma, right?’”

Severus stared for nearly a minute before his face took on a very controlled look. “I have no idea where he would have gotten the idea that the two of them were in a relationship.”

“Really? Harry leaned forward, obvious amusement on his face. “He couldn’t possibly have overheard you ranting about ‘the mutt and his mate?’ Possibly when you were babysitting last week?”

The look on the professor’s face went from stoic to guilty, something Harry would have died to have seen when he was a student. “Oh fine, he overheard, but it wasn’t like it came to him as a huge shock, not with Draco Malfoy hanging off your every moon.”

Harry blushed slightly. “Severus, my relationship with Draco has nothing to do with this. We are just friends right now and the few advances Draco has made have been very subtle.”

“And, as you have so bluntly pointed out to me on countless occasions, your son is not stupid, nor is he blind. He’s asked me about you two more than once. I just didn’t feel you needed that added burden. How, may I ask, are things going with you and Malfoy?”

Harry winced. It had always been a sensitive topic. Draco had been interested in Harry since Evan’s first birthday, but Harry hadn’t felt ready for any kind of relationship. Much to his disbelief, Draco had said he would wait as long as it took, and he had. Four years later the blonde still seemed content to just take walks with Harry, or occasionally try holding his hand, but he never pushed. “Things are going… better. He’s been infinitely patient, although, he says that’s just the Malfoy in him, willing to do anything to get what it wants. It bothered me at first, when he said that, but it doesn’t anymore. I’m thinking,” Harry blushed deeply, “that I might see if he wants to go on a date.”

Severus smirked, “Patience preservers.” He chuckled as Harry’s face reddened further, “Don’t worry, Draco will be thrilled.”

“Where is he, anyway? I haven’t seen him in days.”

“He’s on a mission for Dumbledore, very routine, he should be back either today or tomorrow.”

Harry nodded and stood from his seat, stretching. “I will see you at dinner, Professor Snape.”

“Indeed, Professor,” Snape winced slightly, “Potter.”

-tbc-

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