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Things my father said

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Things my father said.

'Lily, after all this time?'
'Always'

The final words resonated through Harry's head; his teacher, his mentor.. his real father. Harry had discovered the revelation during their occlumacy lessons; the truth Snape had painfully been keeping to himself all this time. A fateful night with Lily, the pregnancy, James.. all the pictures flashing through the older mans head as Harry delved into the depths of his mind. When Snape had finally been able to remove Harry from his thoughts the pair of them were heaving deep breaths, raw emotion spilling from them both.


There in that room they vowed to keep it a secret from the world, knowing full well the impact it would have and the trouble it would cause for not just them, but everyone around them, however there had been a notable shift in their relationship. Harry had so many questions though; how could you let me go to them, to the Dursleys? You had to know what they were like, what they were doing? Why do you hate me?
Why didn't you tell me sooner?

They had spent hours in that room, talking and clearing the air between them.


From there on there had been an understanding between the pair; they kept up appearances when others were around, but often met in the evenings or at weekends when everyone else was otherwise distracted, building a relationship, a bond formed between teacher and student, father and son.
The pain Harry felt when he walked into that boathouse, Snape slumped against the wall, was unlike any he had felt before. Sure Lily and James had passed, leaving a huge hole in his life where his parents - or at least his parents as the world knew them - had left him behind, but when it came down to it, he was too young when that happened. There was no real bond, no relationship or firm memories made; just blurred images and questionable dream like recollections that could either be fact or fiction, he wasn't sure.


No, Snape was different; he'd had time to build an understanding, he knew the man well, even before the truth had come out he had been a big part of his life, and now it had, he knew the intensity of what was happening. First James and Lily, then Sirius.. then Snape. He would never have his name, the world wouldn't understand, but he would always be his son.

4 months had passed since Snape's death; that has been an interesting time as the truth nearly came out. He had left all he owned to Harry, and that alone had been a mean feat to keep quiet. Then had come the burial, the choosing of the headstone..
Harry reached out a hand and stroked the smooth marble of the stone before him.

Here lies Severus Snape
Well respected and fearless to the end.
Missed dearly

He felt he had done a good job, that Snape would be proud. It was a smart resting place; the stone a deep, midnight black marble laced with streaks of silver and green, the inscription a cursive silver font. He waved his wand, at which a small wreath of white and deep green dyed roses appearing in front of him.
They had won the war, but he had lost so much; a wide number of his friends, all of his family, all gone.. but he had gained something in the process. Whilst he had continued to keep the true nature of their relationship a secret from those who had always been closest to him, there was one person he had confided in. Someone he never thought he'd be close to. Someone he never thought he would give his life.

Going through the collection of items Snape had left to him the intensity of the pain had been so real that raw magic had flowed all around him. Draco had walked in at that moment, a firewhisky in hand ready for him. "Here love, take a break and drink this. We need to leave in an hour to go to the bank, why don't you leave this for now?" The blondes voice filtered through the air and settled with Harry as he nodded silently, gratefully taking the drink from Draco as he led him from the room.


They had gone to Gringotts that afternoon, making it official that the contents of Snapes vault be transferred to Harry's, and had been given some time to go through his treasures. Draco had been disowned following the war and had quickly emptied his vault into Harry's as well, save it being cut off from him by his parents; it had been an action of trust, as well as an action of necessity.


They had become serious at that point, but there were still questions in the few days after the war, and so Harry had vowed that if Draco wanted to leave he would give him all he had put in there and they would get him his own, new vault. Instead, Draco had vowed that without Harry nothing else he owned was worth anything.


A glint of green and red in his peripheral vision caught Harry's attention. A small ornate ring box, green and red stone flecked with gold and silver. He knew what was inside without even looking, yet opening it he was still taken aback at the beauty of it. Laying against the black fabric there was a smaller silver ring with small ambers and rubies sitting in a neat row through the band. Beneath it a chunkier wider band, a similar array of stones, this time emeralds and diamonds. He knew where they were from; Severus had bought them for him and Lily when she told him she was pregnant, however she never got to see them - James made sure to prevent that.
Looking over at the blonde behind him he pocketed the box, making sure to keep it concealed before motioning for the pair to leave.


"I'm going to marry him dad, I'm going to give Draco your ring." He whispered, his hand lingering on the cold stone as a tears began to fall down his face; he'd held it together for so long, but as he felt something touch his shoulder, the ghost of a hand that was not truly there, he let it all go. It wasn't long however before he stood, feeling the box in his pocket. Looking down at the grave before him he opened the box; he had gotten the band on Lily's ring widened, thicker to suit a male hand more. "She may never have gotten to wear it, but I will."


Closing the box and putting it back into his pocket, he swallowed once, taking a deep breath before nodding at the grave and turning to walk away; he couldn't bring himself to say anything else, for it wasn't goodbye, not really.