Only A Boy

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Severus Snape had not asked Evans what rumours would be circulating. He had expected some trivial mutterings about favouritism or perhaps – and in his mind even worse – something about how he was going soft. He had never bantered with a student before, not like he had done with Evans. Snape had walked into class with the determination to treat the boy with the same cordiality he regarded all his Slytherins.

He had heard the other professors complain about Evan's less than satisfactory behaviour. He was supposed to mess around, neglect his work, and perform poorly. The whispers had only reinforced Snape's resolve. He would not give Evans any special treatment. As a Slytherin, he was exempt from quite a bit already, but he had been ready to berate the boy if he gave him lip.

And then the boy displayed an aptitude for potions.

Snape had almost forgotten the charm that Evans embodied. He had almost forgotten the way his every word could drip with sarcasm and wit, and how it was somehow both irritating and endearing. The boy had gotten away with more than any student, Slytherin or not. And with that in mind, it was hardly surprising that some rumours would form.

But he had never expected this.

Snape entered the Great Hall for breakfast early on Saturday morning. He slept very little, a trait he had acquired during his years as a double agent. And so, he often stayed up late into the night and woke early in the morning, regardless of the amount of work he needed to do. There were only a handful of students present, as most were taking advantage of the opportunity to sleep in.

"Ah, Severus." Professor Dumbledore waved him over. Other than Professor Sprout, he was the only one present. "How was the first week of classes?"

Snape took McGonagall's usual seat beside him and starting pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice. "The same as they always are," he replied curtly.

"Oh?" There was that damned twinkle in the old man's gaze. "That's not what I hear."

Snape glared at him and started dishing some sausages onto his plate. "Then you've heard wrong."

Dumbledore smiled and glanced down at the house tables. "Ah, young Mr Evans is up early," he said nodding toward the Slytherin table. Too quickly, Snape glanced down. He was sitting near the end, separate from the other Slytherins – three fifth years – and eating a bowl of porridge. He hadn't expected the boy to be an early bird. Dumbledore was looking at him again, but he didn't seem to expect a response because he said, "You know, I've heard the most interesting thing about Mr Evans."

Snape raised an eyebrow and reached for his goblet again.

"Apparently, he is your son—" Snape spat pumpkin juice everywhere, now staring at the headmaster who only smiled and continued, "—have you been holding out on me, Severus?"

"I—" Snape was too angry to speak. This was the rumour?!

"And you aren't to like them at all."

That was putting it mildly. He jerked his head to glare down at the boy, to give him his look of utter loathing but the expression softened when he actually looked at him. Evans was alone. He had come to eat breakfast at an ungodly hour. And now that he actually looked, he was hunching his shoulders, deliberately trying not to look in his direction. Even as he watched, the boy scarfed down his last bite of porridge and darted out of the hall.

"That allegation is utterly ridiculous," Snape said icily, turning back to Dumbledore. "I do not have any children."

Dumbledore blinked, his small pause the only indication that he was taken aback. "Why Severus, if I didn't know that for a fact I might be inclined to believe it." He stroked his beard, staring at the Potions Master. "Might I request a paternity potion?"