This is what happens when you leave me in a confined area for 12 hours.  I love S/H father/son fics, so I just had to jump on the bandwagon. 

Disclaimers: THEY'RE ALL MINE! MINE I TELL YOU!!



My Password



I simply cannot lie to myself any longer.

The boy grows weak; the serpent stronger.

I only found out short months ago;

The deeper I look, the greater it shows.

I cannot speak the truth; it would pain him to hear.

Death tried to claim him several times last year.

My conscience calls out; it has start to become a bother.

Fine, "Harry, tis I, not James, who's your father."

He shows no reaction, for dead he here lies.

For this boy, my boy, all the world cries.

The Dark Lord has won; Harry is dead.

I can still see the stains on his robes where he bled.

Then an idea, though it was doomed to fail.

It had worked once before, when he was not so frail.

I gather the boy and hold onto him tight.

I give up my essence, as she did that night.

Everything's gone black, but I can hear Harry call.

He's calling me "Father"; he'd heard after all.

I wake to find Harry with his head on my bed,

Slouched in a chair, holding my hand.

He wakes to find my eyes less cold than before.

He lets go of my hand and walks toward the door.

The Headmaster enters with questioning eyes.

"I've always known," was Harry's only reply.

I still don't know how Harry always knew,

But my loathing of the child's become something quite new.

Of course he can't know of my next of kin;

I'd lose him; or worse, he'd be fatherless again.

So we continue on with our hatred and pride,

But I always think back to the night Harry died.

He did, without question or malice or spite,

Call his most hated teacher "Father" that night.

And though we may act as though we do not care,

"I've always known" is my password this year.