Chapter 2: What was Lost

Narcissa closed the door to the study and went to the manors potions lap in search of her husband. She needed the comfort only he could give and they had to discuss this new situation. As she entered the lab she smiled despite her worry at her son eagerly helping his father with a potion.

"Draconis…off to bed with you. We are going to Diagon Alley early tomorrow for your school things. Say goodnight to your father." She gently rebuked her son, while giving her husband an un-amused look.

"Go on brat, you heard your mother. Off to bed." Severus said affectionately as he embraced his small blonde son.

"Goodnight Mum, Dad." Draco said giving his mother a kiss on the cheek as he went out the door to his rooms.

Once Draco was out the door, she went into her husband's waiting arms.

"We have to find him Severus and soon. Luc is losing hope and I fear he will try and follow James into death. It took too long to break through the grief this time. 'One way or another' he said." She allowed herself to cry in the safety of his arms. The world might believe her married to Lucius, but there was only one man she called husband. There was only one Severus Snape.

"There is a staff meeting tomorrow Cissa, perhaps he's been enrolled in Hogwarts. I will step up the search. We will make this right love. I promise you."Severus promised his wife and he held her in his arms. He would find his nephew and make the person who cast this heinous spell regret the day they decided to play with the world as if it were a chess board.

Privet Drive

Harry closed his eyes, laying there on the bed in the small guest room that was littered with his cousins broken toys. While his stuff lay neatly in his trunk sitting at the foot of the bed, with his knapsack lying on top of it. He hated spending a month and half here at Number 4 Privet Drive. But his mother always insisted that it was good for him to stay with his relatives for awhile, at least in the summer. She had said that they really liked having him there, and that spending time away from Dublin was good for him. That he should spend time in the country that he was born in, to put everything in perspective, building his character she said. Harry knew at least most of it was a lie. After all, his mother's family hated having him there and was not shy about showing him that. She was right about some of it though…it certainly put everything into perspective. Dublin had never felt like home, but neither did Little Whining. He was not sure what home was supposed to feel like, being away at school had always felt more like home then anywhere with his relatives. He had realized at the age of 6, when he asked questions about his father, that his mother lied to him about everything. In public she was the perfect, doting, loving mother and in private she only ever lied.

The Dursley's were the worst sort of people. They cared only for themselves and his stupid fat oaf of a cousin. Harry knew the only reason that his Aunt and Uncle, Vernon and Petunia, took him during the summer was because his mother paid them. That was one thing the Dursley's loved, money. The money that his mother paid them kept them living a comfortable life and allowed them to keep up their "superior image", as he had overheard them discussing one night. Petunia just hated to think about what the neighbors would say if they knew her sister's good for nothing lazy son was with them all summer with Lily nowhere in sight. Vernon always called him a free loader and insisted that he earn his keep for the time he was there. So he spent his summer doing all the cooking, cleaning, and maintenance that his relatives could not be seen doing but had to be done. His cousin, Dudley hated him because unlike everyone else, his mother included, Harry did not treat him like royalty. Dudley was a bully and Harry was smaller and smarter than him, which was just another reason that he was his cousins favorite target; Harry Hunting being his favorite past time. They didn't speak to him unless they had to, and they never called him by name. Oddly enough this suited him just fine. He hated them just as much as he hated his mother.

The only good thing about coming here was that his mother wasn't here. She never stayed. As soon as he was 6, she'd found a boarding school for him; then spending most of his holiday here, insured that his precious mother had to spend as little time with him as possible. She had never been particularly maternal. With the exception of a few pictures that showed the three of them with happy smiles, and two of him and his mother, every other picture showed his him and his father. The love on his father's face was real and honest, unlike the fake smiles his mother had. After his father died his mother left him with nannies and later had sent him away to boarding school. Like many other well off parents of the children of the schools he attended, she was always too busy to visit him. The simple truth was that she had abandoned him as soon as she could. She'd never shown him love unless there was someone else there. Harry even doubted she'd ever really loved his father. Loved his money and power yes, but loved him, no. He hated her; she had never given him a reason not to. He did not think she ever would.

He could tell he had always been closer to his father. The vague memories he had of the man kept alive by the pictures that he always kept with him. Harry missed his father every day. He wished more than once he had died in the accident with him. Other times he wished that his mother had been the one who died. He used to tell himself that she was not his real mother and that was why she hated him so much. He even sometimes had dreams of another man with a curtain of blonde hair and grey eyes, who showed him love and affection. But this was not a man that he had ever met, so Harry figured it must all be just a dream. He wished desperately that it was true. That there was someone else out there who actually wanted him. But in eleven years he had come to accept that his father James Potter loved him very much before he died and that his mother Lily Potter nee Evans hated him for reasons he could not understand. After all, Lily had carried him for nine months, was there not supposed to be some kind of bond between them.

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