1996

Severus had nearly flown from the room, leaving Dumbledore’s office without a backward glace. The Headmaster’s enchanted staircase seemed to understand Severus’ need for escape as it spun him in less than a minute back to the ground floor.

The Potions Master stormed through the dark labyrinthine passageways that sloped down toward his dungeon sanctuary, each footstep puncturing the silence forcefully. Severus briefly wished that one of his Slytherins would be wandering about so that he could unleash his rising fury. But the corridors were ruthlessly empty and Severus completed the quick journey to his quarters uninterrupted.

Severus stopped in front of a blank stone wall and pressed his fingertips to one of the ragged stones. A door melted into the wall and opened for him. Severus stepped inside his quarters and the door slammed shut, sensing his mood. With a harsh growl, Severus swung his robes off his shoulders and with a sharp motion from Severus’ hand, the black robes flew onto a peg next to the door.

How dare Albus go on like that, Severus fumed as, with jerky movements, he poured himself a drink from the flask near the Floo. In one swift movement, Severus had downed the entire glass of Firewhisky and he grimaced in satisfaction as the liquid scorched its way down his throat.

Potter and Lupin, especially Lupin, hadn’t needed to know his personal affairs. They hadn’t needed to hear how James Potter had betrayed him 15 years ago. Even after all this time, Severus could find no bile in his heart for Lily. This was Potter’s doing; he was sure the vindictive Gryffindor had seduced his wife…His Lily.

Severus allowed his grief to the front of his mind as a vision of Lily all those years ago filled him; Lily had stared at him with such pain in her beautiful face. Severus hadn’t even felt anger that night as he stared at her, the truth of her words thrashing inside him. He had only stared and then had turned, as if in a daze and walked through the hallways, finding his way somehow into the parlor where Harry had been playing with the house-elf.

The boy had looked up at him, his face lit with a smile and he’d shouted, “Daddy!” as he scrambled toward Severus.

Severus had backed up a step as a sob rose unrecognizable into his throat and he’d stumbled blindly toward the fireplace, haphazardly throwing Floo Powder down as he went. As Severus gasped out a destination, he had glimpsed Lily with her arms around a screaming Harry, trying to console the child who was supposed to be his son.

The delicate glass in Severus’ hand shattered suddenly with the force of the man’s grip. The Potions Master grimaced slightly as the tiny shards of glass pierced his palm. With a vicious wave of his wand, he banished the pieces and with another, healed the cuts.

The momentary pain had brought Severus back to himself and with practiced ease, he began placing each memory of the past into the unreachable parts of his mind. Before he could finish the familiar exercise, Severus was distracted as the Floo fired up and Albus stuck his head through.

“May I come through, dear boy?” Albus asked with a gentle smile.

“No.”

The blue eyes registered surprise but in the next moment they, with the Headmaster attached stepped out into his dungeon quarters anyway. Severus glared at him as Albus rearranged his bright purple robes around him as he sat, unasked, in one of Severus’ chairs.

“It was my impression, Albus that other staff members did not intrude on others’ private space, without an invitation,” Severus said icily.

Dumbledore gazed at him. “Impressions can be misleading, my boy.”

“Much as Headmasters can be officious?” Severus asked with a sneer.

“Much the same, yes,” Albus answered with a polite nod. Severus clenched his jaw at the Headmaster’s cheerful snark and turned away.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes.

Severus finally broke the silence. “You had no right,” he said, pushing deep to keep the tremor from his voice.

“I couldn’t let Harry leave without an explanation,” Albus told him calmly. Severus whirled on him, glaring down at the old man.

“It was nothing to do with him. He-”

Albus chuckled. “Nothing to do with him, Severus?” he asked, his tone suffused with humor.

“There was nothing to be gained from revealing my personal business, Albus. James Potter is still his father.”

“Is he, Severus?” Albus watched him carefully.

“Of course he is!” Severus snapped with impatience, not even bothering to consider the rhetorical question. What was the Headmaster playing at?

“How did Harry find out about you and Lily?” Albus asked casually after another moment.

Severus narrowed his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. “I am not playing your games, Albus.”

“A Pensieve?” Albus guessed and then rubbed his bearded chin in feigned rumination. “Who, I wonder, would create a Pensieved memory of a lie?”

Caught off guard, Severus gaped at him. He had been too tangled up in his own anger and grief to question the memories origins.

“Where did Harry get the Pensieve?” Dumbledore suddenly asked, his eyes intense as he leaned forward to stare at Severus.

“Gringotts” Severus answered automatically.

Dumbledore sat back. “I see,” he said, a satisfied look on his face.

Severus’ temper flared again. What did Albus think he was doing? “You do not see anything, Albus. There is nothing to see.” He fixed Albus with a steely glare. “I will not tolerate any more of your meddling.”

But, infuriatingly, the Headmaster acted as though he had not heard the clearly threatening note in Severus’ voice. “There is a way to be sure, of course,” Albus mused, as if the thought had just occurred to him.

“No.”

Albus simply raised his eyebrows.

“Surely it is best to know the truth, Severus?” Albus asked innocently.

“I know the truth. Lily would not lie to me about something such as this.”

“Indeed. Excepting the first time she lied to you about it, of course.”

Severus stiffened as he forced himself not to grab the Headmaster and shake him violently. “How dare you impugn Lily?” he demanded, trying to keep his voice level. He barely succeeded.

Albus was gazing at him in frank wonder. “Still, after all these years, you harbor no anger toward Lily?” Severus did not answer. “You love her,” Albus stated plainly

Severus turned away from the Headmaster. “Leave me.” He had meant to sound belligerent, but it came out instead beseeching, and Severus cursed himself for his weakness.

Dumbledore went right on, ignoring Severus’ plea, “If Harry were your son, would you find love for him as well, Severus?”

“Get out.”

The menace in the Potions Master’s voice was unmistakable this time and Dumbledore, with a weary sigh, stood. Dumbledore had his answer; there was no need to torture his young friend any further. Besides, the Headmaster had a potion to prepare.

--------------------------------

Harry watched his mum and James, clutching at one another, until the scene dissolved and Harry felt himself floating upward as if her were being dragged by an invisible anchor and he found himself again in Gryffindor tower, listening to the steady snoring of his bunkmates.

There were no violent impulses this time, fighting their way to the surface for release. Harry felt strangely calm…at ease. Of course, there was a vague notion in there somewhere that it would not be as simple as all that…to be Snape’s son. He wasn’t even sure he wanted any such thing.

But it really didn’t matter, Harry decided as he sat there. He had seen the depth of love his mum had for Snape and he knew in his heart that she would want this. She had, after all presumably placed those memories in the Pensieve so that someday Harry might someday know the truth.

Everything made sense now…those feelings of dread he had had after seeing James and his mum in Snape’s Pensieve last year. It had seemed wrong. But this, this idea that Snape and his mum had loved each other, no matter how bizarre it might sound to anyone else, it was just right.

And there was something else beginning to clog up Harry’s chest as he pushed himself up onto his bed, letting his legs dangle over the side. He had been loved, as well, by both of them.

Harry wasn’t daft enough to believe that Snape was about to run up to him with some declaration of a father’s love, in fact the very idea made Harry shudder a little. But Harry was certain that the Potions Master had loved him once, all those years ago.

Maybe, with enough time and very careful steps, maybe Snape could feel something less than hatred for him…maybe. Harry reached a hand to rub his throbbing head, trying to soothe the headache that had been pounding steadily all night and as he massaged his temple lightly, his fingers smoothed over his scar. He stilled.

Voldemort.

All at once, Harry felt as if he was a piece of Drooble’s Best Chewing Gum, popped unceremoniously and deflated. Harry realized now, of course, that Snape was not working for Voldemort, as Harry had suggested to Dumbledore last year, but the Potions Master was still supposed to be acting as spy for the snake-like bastard.

Even if Snape eventually wanted to, he couldn’t claim Harry as his son, could he? Not while Voldemort was alive. Harry groaned and rolled over fully onto his bed and curled his face up against his cool pillow. Well, he decided determinedly as he punched his pillow down to get comfortable, somehow he would solve this. He owed it to his mother, after all.

Harry yawned, as exhaustion finally caught up with him. He would go over all of it with Hermione in the morning, and maybe he’d even make another trip to Dumbledore’s office. Snape’s pain had seemed to bother the Headmaster greatly; surely he would be eager to help Harry. Harry was hesitant to trust the old wizard, but he was determined to do this for his mum.

Harry smiled into his pillow and let his mind wander back to the memory of Snape ruffling his toddler self’s hair affectionately. The image inexplicably warmed him and Harry drifted into a more peaceful sleep than he had experienced in almost a week.

Harry was jolted awake, hours later by a loud thump near his head. He peeled his eyes open groggily, trying to see through the darkness. Ron’s face was much too close, illuminated suddenly by the tip of Ron’s wand.

“Sorry,” Ron said sheepishly as Harry moved hastily backwards, until he bumped into his headboard.

“What are you doing, Ron?” Harry groused, rubbing at his head. Ron straightened, chanting “Nox,” as he did so. Harry struggled to adjust to the absence of light again. He felt his bed shifting slightly and he pulled his legs out of the way before Ron could sit on them. “Well?” he demanded, completely agitated at having been woken up.

“I was downstairs with Hermione,” Ron said in a rush. Harry stared at the spot where he figured Ron’s face had to be.

“Why?” he asked stupidly.

The bed shifted again. “Hermione had an idea…about the Pensieve. But, she didn’t want to wake you up.” Ron’s disgust was obvious and Harry laughed.

“So you woke me up instead?”

“I didn’t mean to!” Ron told him in an indignant whisper. Harry’s covers rustled. “Listen, Harry, I think Hermione’s really lost it this time. She made me promise to tell you, but….” He trailed off uncertainly and Harry shook his head. He’d told Ron and Hermione what had happened in Dumbledore’s office as soon as he’d returned and they had been frankly stunned; even Hermione had had nothing to offer. Though apparently, she hadn’t stopped thinking about it.

“Say a Lumos, will you? This is ridiculous.” Ron chanted the Charm quickly and Harry smiled at the subdued look on his friend’s face.

“It’s all right, Ron. I figured it out on my own. I went back into the Pensieve and it’s all sorted out…Snape’s my father.”

Ron gaped at him. “How?” Harry explained briefly and when he’d finished, Ron was nodding thoughtfully. “It just didn’t make sense,” Ron mused.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, appreciating his friend’s support. Of course, he hadn’t mentioned his tacit plans to make Snape see the truth. Harry plucked at his blanket nervously for a minute, remembering fourth year when Ron had ignored him for all those weeks and thought maybe it would be better not to tell the redhead. But, Harry didn’t want to underestimate his friend, so he took a breath and said quickly. “I’m going to tell him.”

Ron, after a beat, nodded. “Your mum would like that,” he said quietly and Harry grinned.

“Thanks, Ron.”

Ron nodded again and slid off Harry’s bed. “Better get to sleep, mate.” He chanted another “Nox,” and the room slipped into black again. Harry listened as Ron padded over to his own bed and hopped up.

“Night,” Harry told him, rolling back over to his side.

“Night, Harry.”

--------------------------------------

Ron and Harry met an extremely agitated Hermione, accompanied by a calmer Ginny the next morning as they made their slow way to the common room. Hermione turned abruptly to Ron.

“Did you tell him?” she asked tersely.

“Hermione,” Harry interjected before Ron could frame a reply. “I figured it out myself last night.”

Hermione looked at Harry in surprise, but then she brushed aside a few strands of stray hair, asking, “And?” very impatiently.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’ll explain on the way to breakfast,” and he turned. Ron and Ginny followed him while Hermione huffed in frustration before falling in step as well. As they made their way to the Great Hall, Harry explained. His news, especially the part about making sure Snape knew the truth had both girls practically giddy with excitement.

Hermione, it proved, was absolutely useless for ideas on what to do about the ‘Voldemort situation’ as Ron termed it.

Harry tried to shrug it off though as he spotted Dumbledore seated at the head table. Snape was missing, Harry noticed as well. The man was probably still livid about last night. Harry grimaced at the thought. How was he supposed to tell him anything if Snape was going to go about breaking furniture and disappearing into thin air? Harry groaned loudly and buried his face in his elbow. This was going to be impossible.

Harry raised his head again as the Owl Post arrived and Harry looked up automatically for Hedwig, as he always did. With a jolt of surprise, he spotted his snowy white friend among the other owls and watched as she glided toward him.

Hedwig landed gracefully in front of his plate and Harry plucked a smooth envelope from her beak. Hedwig hooted happily at him. Harry stroked her white fur and in return, Hedwig nipped his finger affectionately. Then, she snatched up a bit of Harry’s bacon from his plate before hooting once again and taking to the air

Harry tore the envelope open eagerly and unfolded the parchment. Harry closed his eyes briefly after he’d read the short missive. Dumbledore again! For the third day in a row, the Headmaster was summoning him to his office.

Harry looked up at the head table again. Dumbledore was staring right at him. As Harry caught his eye, the Headmaster winked. Damn the man. How had he known Harry would want to see him today? Harry nodded briefly at Dumbledore, then turned away again, shaking his head resignedly.

Harry only realized after he’d crumpled Dumbledore’s letter that he had Potions after lunch. His gut rippled in nervous anticipation as he thought about it. He had no idea how to act around the Professor. Snape was sure to be as irascible as ever and Harry felt the familiar tug of resentment toward him. He couldn’t help it and Harry wondered if he’d ever be able to get past his learned dislike of Snape.

With a sigh, Harry stood with his friends as they began to gather their bags. He waved to Ginny as she joined the other fifth years and then he followed Hermione and Ron toward the Transfiguration classroom.

Harry noted the assessing look McGonagall favored him with and he tried to give her a reassuring smile. McGonagall raised her eyebrow a fraction before turning her attention to the start of class.

Thankfully, the class went by swiftly and afterwards Harry and Ron spent lunch talking Quidditch with Dean and Seamus, while Hermione practically did a re-enactment of Transfiguration class for a less than captive Neville.

It was with a rapidly beating heart that Harry made his way to the dungeons after lunch. His barely eaten sandwich gurgled unhappily in his stomach as he sat at the same table he had shared with Malfoy two days before; he didn’t want to begin class with Snape snapping at him to ‘use his brain for once’ followed by a snapped demand that he move.

Malfoy came in while Harry was arranging his Potions supplies. The Slytherin didn’t register any surprise at finding Harry at Malfoy’s usual table. He sat without a word and began taking out his own ingredients. Harry sneaked a quick look around the classroom; everyone else it seemed, had had the same idea as they were all paired up according to the new partnering system.

Harry fidgeted in his seat after he’d put out all of his supplies and he winced as he heard the classroom door slam open with a resounding thud. Damn. Snape’s mood had obviously not improved since last night.

“Silence,” Snape barked as he thundered toward the front of the classroom. When he reached his destination, Snape pivoted on his heel, his black robes swirling in an angry arc behind him. As the fabric settled gracefully around his legs, he narrowed his eyes and glared around the classroom.

“You will find today’s Potion on page 154. You will complete the Potion in silence. Begin,” he commanded and with a rustle of parchment and some scraping of stools, the students complied.

Great, Harry thought, annoyed. Just how were he and Malfoy supposed to make a Potion together without even talking? Hermione, it seemed had the same question as she was whispering out the side of her mouth at Nott, who was staring straight ahead, pretending not to hear her.

“I said silence, Miss Granger. Ten points from Gryffindor.” Snape’s harsh voice echoed off the dungeon walls and Harry glanced back at Hermione, who was now staring down at her Potions book, presumably trying not to cry. Harry clenched his jaw in anger and tried to stifle it as he found the right page in his book.

Malfoy had already found the correct page. He had lit a fire under his cauldron and was slicing an eel’s heart into neat quarter inch pieces. He put the bits into the cauldron and turned to Harry, his eyes raised expectantly. Harry stared at him.

Malfoy’s eyes flashed downward, toward his book and then back up to Harry. Harry wanted to laugh. Malfoy was planning to mime his way through the assignment? Well, at least that way, Harry concluding, he wouldn’t lose any points, so he quickly read the second ingredient listed and set to work measuring out a spoonful of powdered Toenail of Sheep.

Harry didn’t hear one more word from any of the students. In fact, for the next two hours, the classroom was devoid of almost any noise, save the chopping and slicing of various Potions ingredients. Harry was therefore startled when Snape’s voice cracked against the silence like a whip as he and Malfoy were finishing their potion.

“Dreadful, Weasley.” When Parkinson blinked up at Snape in confusion, he continued in a haughty voice. “Ten points to Miss Parkinson for having to put up with your idiocy.”

The sharp intake of breath from the other Gryffindors had the Potions Master saying casually, “I believe I asked for silence. Another ten points from Gryffindor seems to be in order.” Harry wanted to throttle the man. He glared at him as Snape glided over to he and Malfoy’s table. Snape ignored Harry completely and turned to Malfoy expectantly.

“I trust you were able to make a decent Potion, Mr. Malfoy, in spite of whatever interference Mr. Potter may have created?” Harry’s hands began to quiver in rising anger at Snape’s attack.

Malfoy had the gall to nod smartly at Snape’s question.

“Excellent, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape approved and he put his nose toward Malfoy’s cauldron. Harry wished he could shove Snape’s sneering face into the boiling liquid. Snape sniffed the Potion before announcing, “Twenty points to Slytherin.”

And then, with a piercing glance at Harry, he said, “And, twenty points from Gryffindor for your interference.”

Harry understood immediately that Snape wasn’t referring to today’s Potion at all.

“That’s not fair!” Parvati Patil’s voice rang out indignantly. Snape turned smoothly toward her.

“Fair, Miss Patil? Oh, I believe Mr. Potter is quite adequately acquainted with life’s inequities. And that will be another 10 points from Gryffindor for ignoring my instructions.”

Parvati spluttered but lapsed into silence. The man was unbelievable, Harry fumed, but Snape wasn’t finished.

“Fifty points in one class session…even for Gryffindor, that is quite a feat,” the Potions Master drawled. “I suppose for you though, Potter, it was merely a desire to follow your father’s shining example.”

Harry finally snapped and he said recklessly, “I don’t think my father is ready to be an example to anyone…not yet.”

Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry.

“Class Dismissed,” he snapped out. Harry rose. “Sit, Potter,” Snape spat and then after watching to make sure all the students had left the classroom, Snape used his wand to slam the door shut. He whirled toward Harry and slapping his hands abruptly onto Harry’s table, he leaned toward the boy menacingly so that they were nose to nose. Harry didn’t move away.

“I did not realize even you were incapable of logical reasoning, Potter, so let me put it in words you can understand. You saw a memory of a lie. I am not your father. And, you will not allude to such a thing again, not to me…not to anyone. Do you understand?” Snape’s voice had started out levelly and then risen at the end so that the man was very nearly screeching into Harry’s face.

This is it, Harry decided and steadied himself as Snape continued to breathe in his face as he waited, the scent of cloves heavy on the man’s breath.

“Ah. I’ve found the two of you together…wonderful.” Snape and Harry snapped their heads around. Dumbledore was rocking on his heels, his hands folded sedately in front of him, smiling serenely.

Much as if he were one of Fred and George’s fireworks, Snape shot up from where he was bent over Harry’s desk to glare at the Headmaster.

“What do you want, Albus?” he bit out and Harry almost smiled at the way Snape was clenching his jaw. Well, he knew where he had gotten his temper from anyway.

“I think it might be best to have this issue settled before I leave,” Dumbledore said matter-of-factly.

“Where are you going?” Harry blurted out without thinking.

Dumbledore turned his smile on Harry, his eyes twinkling. “I have some business to take care of, my boy.” Harry tilted his head, his mind already beginning to turn over the many scenarios, which might take the Headmaster away from the castle. All of them involved Voldemort.

“As I will not be back for some time,” Dumbledore continued, “It would put my mind at ease if I knew there were no more questions.” He held up a flask of something that looked like bluish-grey water and shook it gently.

Snape folded his arms across his chest. “I will not contribute,” he growled.

“What is it?” Harry asked curiously and Snape shot him a disgusted glare.

“Filial Potion,” Dumbledore answered before Snape could belittle Harry for knowing less than a fourth year.

“Like a Muggle paternity test,” Harry concluded and Dumbledore nodded while Snape sneered at the inexact parallel. “What do we need to do?” Harry asked, thinking it would probably be easier than having to share the Pensieve memories with the Potions Master.

The Headmaster smiled. “All things in order, Harry. Didn’t you have something to say to Professor Snape first?” Harry scowled at the Headmaster.

How did he do that? But, since he did have something to say and since Dumbledore was not likely to tell him any more about the Filial Potion until he did so, Harry nodded, feeling all of sudden, lightheaded.

“I-I went back into the Pensieve last night. There were…more memories,” he stammered. Harry was staring intensely at Snape as he spoke and he thought he saw something spark in the dark eyes, but then they were unreadable black again and Harry looked away.

“Yes, Harry?” The Headmaster asked gently.

Harry swallowed. “There was a woman…in a pub, I think. She was talking to my mum and James. She was threatening my mum.”

Snape grew very still. Harry looked up again. Snape was staring at him, his face filled with some emotion that Harry didn’t recognize. Harry held his gaze, trying to find a way to make Snape see what he had seen in the Pensieve.

Harry brought the memories from last night to the front of his mind and he focused on the images as his gaze continued to bore into Snape’s. Harry became slowly aware of other memories, other images that he at once recognized as Snape’s. All the images began to twist and flow together and as they began to sharpen in their intensity, Harry was no longer able to separate Snape’s thoughts from his own.

Lily’s eyes filled with love. Severus rumpling Harry’s hair. Lily clutching Harry as Snape Flooed away. Lily sobbing into James’ chest. Severus slumped on the floor, an upturned picture by his feet. Eileen in the pub.

“I will kill them both.”

“No.” Snape growled as he pulled himself from Harry’s thoughts. Harry stumbled into Dumbledore, staring at the Potions Master, his eyes wide.

Then in deepest rage, Snape began to tremble. There was such hatred, such loathing in his face as he stared at Harry that both Harry and Dumbledore cringed with the force of it. With a murderous roar, Snape flung himself into his classroom Floo and screamed in course fury as he pelted the fireplace with Floo Powder and then the great green flames swallowed him up.

Harry stared at the place where Snape had been as the flames died down again. Rejection washed through him as he slumped against the Headmaster.