The familiar surroundings of the laboratory formed around them, and Harry jumped quickly to his armchair. An instant later, a black cat curled up against the cushion, head between his paws. Focused on the crackling of the fire and the rapid pounding of his heart, he almost didn't hear the footsteps approaching, then drew back a bit more when he realized that Severus was standing beside him.

There was a rustling of paper, then the steps went away again. "I'll be in my office."

The door closed, and Shadow looked up. His office? He didn't even know that Snape had one. Where, then? His eyes drifted to the little table Severus had transfigured between the two chairs. A bundle of recognizable papers lay there.

The adoption papers. Harry transformed and reverently picked up the documents.

His heart was still pounding wildly, the words seemed to dance in front of his eyes. Adopt. Protect. Legal. Ministry. Child.

He blinked. He had to calm down and read the parchment carefully. This was about his life, after all. Frowning, he immersed himself in reading the various paragraphs before straightening again, stunned.

He'd obviously known this, but to see it in black and white… If Snape decided to go through with this process, Harry would become his son in every sense of the word. Severus would have all the rights of a parent, and all the duties as well. The same for the 'legitimate child', according to this document—he'd become Snape's heir and could even take his name.

Harry Snape? The name almost felt familiar, but did he really want to give up his own? Or maybe Potter-Snape?

Harry shivered violently, and put the papers back on the table as if they'd burned him, before sinking back into the chair. He wasn't going to be able to do it. For Merlin's sake, barely three months ago, he'd considered Snape one of his worst enemies. And what would his father have thought? And what, even more importantly, were his friends going to think? And what if Severus changed over time; what if he ended up like the Dursleys?

It was madness. Sheer madness. Of course he was fond of Snape. Of course the man had proved that he only wanted what was best for him, but it was too much, too soon, too late, too something, and he was about to suffocate.

He should've been happy. Shouting with glee, jumping everywhere, climbing trees.

Actually, yeah, he felt like climbing trees! Frantically, he took the stairs up, four by four, before closing the door to the garden behind him.

It was Shadow who raced into the park, threading through the grass with his ears back, leaping between the tree trunks until finally spotting his favorite tree, then climbing it with his paws as fast as he could.

The Manor! Snape had told him this was his home. It was here that he'd offered, a few weeks before, to take care of him like a parent would. But he'd not believed it, not really. Lily would've wanted it, he was sure, but Sirius and James? Both had helped Snape to save him, but from that to adopting him? That'd surely make them roll over in their graves.

Struck by sudden impulse, he leapt to the foot of the tree, and took off at a run. Far from the Manor, far from Severus. He wanted to be alone. Burrs snagged in the fur of his coat, scratching him along the way, but he paid it no mind. Snape would take care of it anyway…he always did. Took care of him, saved him…but despite all his good intentions, he'd not been able to save Lily, had he? And even now that memory haunted him.

Was that why he looked after Harry so much, why he wanted to adopt him? To keep his promise, to hang on to the memory of Lily?

But no, Harry'd already thought of all this; he knew that wasn't the real reason. Of course Severus would get something out of it, a family he'd never really had either. And a bit of fame maybe? Snape had always sought recognition, as Remus had pointed out to him. Had Severus thought of that when starting the adoption process?

The cat sped up, acutely ashamed and uncomfortable. His thoughts were rather Slytherin today. Why couldn't he just admit that Severus only wanted the best for him? That he just wanted him, and wanted to protect him? Hadn't he done enough to prove it, saving him over and over, putting his own life in danger with that Protego, sacrificing himself like his mother had done?

Merlin, he wanted it; he wanted it so much, but if he were wrong, if things turned out badly, if he lost everything again, after having had it…that would be the worst of all.

But speaking of losing… Shadow stopped suddenly, caught off-guard. Where had he ended up? The little clearing he'd just come into seemed natural enough, but there was also something artificial and disconcerting about it. Maybe the way the plants and shrubbery were arranged? And that strange rock almost in the middle. He took off for it at a gallop.

Up close, the thing seemed even more ostentatious, and he quickly understood why as he made his way around it. Across from a stream and on the remnant of a path that hardly seemed practical, the stone was impressively engraved. Shadow went closer to decipher the inscription, his curiosity making him forget all caution.

Here lies Arthus Desmond Hector Prince, Pureblood and Philanthropist.

1890-1972

R.I.P

Shadow blinked. 1972? So the grave wasn't that old. Was Arthus Prince Severus' grandfather? It was his mother's family name, in any case, he was certain, given what he'd seen in the professor's memories.

Something wasn't right here…Harry instinctively took his human form and sat facing the stone slab as he frowned. Then Snape's words sounded in his memory. This isn't a family dwelling."

No? But then why were his ancestors' graves here on the Manor grounds?

But after all, this was just one grave, Harry reasoned. Maybe a coincidence…maybe Snape had had his grandfather's body brought here after he'd acquired the Manor.

He shook his head as he traced the engraved letters with his fingertips. He had to think clearly… Changing form again, he took off into the woods again, following the beginning of the path that ran along the stream. And his intuition soon proved to be correct. This wasn't a cemetery, strictly speaking, no, but several graves were scattered about the countryside, blending in naturally with the surroundings. Some of them seemed particularly ancient, but he was able to read certain names without difficulty.

The Prince name always appeared, accompanied by that of their spouses. And among those here, certain of them were far from unknown to him. Parkinson. Rosier. Prewett! Bones. And even more troubling, on the most ancient graves: Black. Potter.

Flabbergasted and trembling, Harry fell to his knees in front of the grave. Potter! The Potters and the Princes had been related, then, at some time in their history? Maybe it was one of his ancestors lying there beneath the heather. Then how could his parents be…

The realization struck him like a shock of cold water. His parents! Their graves! Voldemort had tried to kill him there, but he'd also said something that night, something that'd managed to trouble Harry, even in his trance. He'd never been to their graves…he'd never thought about it.

Merlin, but this was what he should do, as soon as possible. It was so crystal clear! All these questions, these doubts…he'd find the answer there. And he also should say goodbye to Sirius and the Dursleys. Before signing those adoption papers himself, he had to pay a visit to all those who had in one way or another been his family.

Why hadn't he thought of this sooner? He didn't even know where Sirius and the Dursleys' graves were, but he'd find them. One way or another, he was convinced that the storm inside his head would subside a bit as soon as he'd seen them.

Both relieved and excited, Harry assumed his feline form again and took the shortest course through the underbrush for the Manor, leaving the strange and peaceful Prince cemetery behind him. Without having been able to locate Tobias and Eileen Prince's tomb, though, Harry realized. The most recent graves, however, seemed to also be those closest to the path.

Not giving it another thought, he headed for the Manor, belly to the ground, until he was out of breath. Then, transforming back, he went in search of Severus' office.

Not in the basement, since the professor had gone up the stairs. And as he didn't seem to use the upper story, the room would most likely be on the ground floor. But where?

Hmmm. Probably next to the library, Harry thought; that was the most logical…and he had this strange and nagging impression that the man he was searching for was just behind these walls. He crossed through the library, his footsteps muffled by the thick rug, and stopped in front of a large wooden door.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked.

"Come in."

Right! Snape was there. He pushed open the door with a slight smile on his face. He was getting good at this game. The man was seated at his desk, a quill in his hand, clearly engrossed in his work.

"Are you marking papers?" Harry asked curiously.

Snape looked up in annoyance. "No, Potter, I don't spend my entire life correcting abysmal homework handed in by students. All the more so when I myself didn't set the assignment."

"Oh."

The boy's vaguely dejected tone must've made the professor regret his words, for he went on, grumbling slightly," It's a potions formula. Experiments which I like to share with my colleagues."

"Really? Like with the Wolfsbane Potion?" Harry asked.

The Potions master stiffened. "More or less. You wanted to see me?"

"I…yes. I had something to ask you. I know I have to go back to Hogwarts, and you have to check it's safe and all that, but…do you think we have time to go to Godric's Hollow today?" the boy asked.

Snape lifted a questioning eyebrow. "Godric's Hollow? Is there something in particular you want to do there?"

"I'd like to visit my parents' graves. Other than…well, you know," Harry said, making a face.

Severus tapped his cheek with a finger. "Your memory of the place mustn't be a good one, I imagine. Was that really the first time you were there?"

The boy nodded. "This'll seem stupid, but I'd never thought of it before. Where my parents were buried, I mean. I know this seems a bit weird, but I'd really like to go there now, if you think it's not dangerous. And…where Sirius is too. And the Dursleys."

"Well, we're slightly early for All Saints Day," Severus murmured. "As for Black's grave, that won't be difficult. He's also buried at Godric's Hollow."

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised. "Why? The Black family wasn't from there…right?"

"No," Snape admitted, "but Walburga managed to banish her eldest son from the family tree…and the family burial plot. I doubt he would've wanted to be interred beside them anyway. So Dumbledore arranged for him to be in the cemetery where your parents lie. Probably the most sensible thing to do, given the circumstances."

Harry nodded, suddenly unable to speak because of the huge lump in his throat.

"As for the Dursleys," the professor continued, pretending he'd not noticed anything, "they're buried in the cemetery at Little Whinging."

"You…how do you know that?" Harry croaked out.

Snape stared at him, his face impassive. "You'd already asked to visit their graves, after their deaths, so I sought out that information. I was simply waiting for you to want to go. Of course I'll take you there."

"Thanks," the boy said, swallowing hard.

"Do you have the documents?" Snape asked, waving his thanks away with a hand.

"Um, yes," Harry replied, his eyes carefully fixed on the desk lamp.

"Questions?" Snape asked casually.

"No, I don't think so. Maybe just…"

"Yes?"

Before Harry had the time to hold them back, the words were out. "Can I refuse?"

There was a moment of silence that seemed to last an eternity. Even though the professor's face betrayed nothing, it seemed to Harry that a strong flash of pain and disappointment had just fleeted across it.

"Surely," Severus said at last. "That's one solution amongst many. And whatever you decide, it won't change any of our other…arrangements, as long as they're acceptable to you."

Harry felt both relieved and terribly ungrateful. If the heat he felt creeping up his neck were any indication, he must've been bright red. Snape, though, stood before him as if he'd just simply asked him what was for supper.

"I…I’m sorry. I suppose I just need a bit of time to get used to the idea. No, that's not what I mean either. I want it, I want you to be…well, for it to work, you've no idea how much! But it's so…too much," he finished pitifully.

Severus' eyes softened. "You don't have to justify yourself, Harry. You're the main party involved, so it's up to you to decide what must be done…or not. I can perfectly understand your reservations. I think anyone in your place would want to think twice," Snape said with a slight smile.

But Harry wasn't fooled. "I’m not just anyone," he answered, "and I've already decided…I think. Merlin, I just feel like I'm going nutters. That's why I have to go there, you understand? To the cemetery."

Snape nodded. "Very well. Get your things, eat if you're hungry. I'll alert the Headmaster of our little trip."

"I'm not hungry. My cloak's still upstairs." He hesitated for an instant. "Say…your parents…where are they buried?"

Severus had turned to gather up his papers, and Harry could clearly see his shoulders stiffen before relaxing again. The Potions master turned to focus his black eyes on Harry's.

"Nowhere. They're lying in a common grave somewhere in Surry," he said icily.

Harry gaped at him, horrified. "You mean…you didn't…but they're your parents!"

Snape made a sarcastic and venomous face, his attention once again focused on his papers.

"'Spiteful and vindictive' were my grandfather's final words about me. A particularly sensible and perceptive wizard," he said, his voice oozing a malicious irony.

With an inaudible sigh, he turned completely toward Harry. "I've never claimed to be a good person, Harry, and you're aware of my past, probably better than anyone. I've no real appreciation of sacrosanct family loyalty, and pledge no allegiance to my bloodline. I choose my friends, my allies, and now my family. I'll harbor no ill will at all if you reject this dubious privilege, believe me."

His eyes closed, the boy shook his head. "No. I understand. At least I think I understand. It's just that…" It was his turn to sigh. "I took a walk in the park, and I found the graves. Your ancestors'. They are your ancestors, aren't they?"

This time the blow seemed to fall even more heavily, and Severus fell into his armchair. Seeming resigned, he Summoned another armchair closer with an Accio, then motioned for Harry to sit down at the other side of the desk.

"I suppose it had to come down to this sooner or later," he said bitterly. "And since we've now come to unpleasant revelations, just as well to finish it. Yes, those are my family's graves, on my mother's side. Ask your questions."

Harry felt his stomach ball up in a knot. He would've gladly taken a pass on this conversation, but Severus was right. He had to know. If he wanted to agree to the adoption, with full knowledge of whatever had happened, he had to get to the bottom of things. After all, whatever Snape had done, it wouldn't change anything between them, would it?

"If you have a family cemetery, then why aren't your parents there?" he asked at last. Snape lifted an eyebrow, obviously surprised by the question.

"Because I hated them," he said curtly, sinking deeper into his chair. "Next question?"

Harry uncomfortably cleared his throat. All of a sudden, he didn't much want to know anymore. Severus seemed to understand his discomfiture and, taking a deep breath, leant in over his desk with his hands clasped in front of him.

"I'm sorry. That was rather inappropriate of me. Even though at heart it's actually truthful. As you were able to see for yourself, my relationship with my parents was always devoid of love and affection. I suppose I tried to love them when I was a child, but it was not destined to last. They did all they could to make me miserable, and at the time of their deaths, I believed I owed them nothing. I still believe that now. Be that as it may, I didn't want them here. I liked this place, and my grandfather would've hated the idea of a Muggle being interred here. He'd also disowned my mother, although I doubt her standing with him was ever very strong. When they died, I simply refused to take care of their funerals, and they were buried in the nearest common grave, without a ceremony of any sort. I doubt anyone mourned them, apart from the owner of the corner pub," Snape finished, a small, bitter smile on his face.

"I understand," Harry murmured once again. "It's just…sad."

Snape nodded. "I suppose I should've accepted the idea that death wipes away wrongs done, but I've never been one to practice forgiveness, and I was even less so at that time. I went to your grandparents' funeral, though."

"And what did my mother think about all this?" Harry asked.

Severus looked away. "I told her they'd been buried elsewhere. She didn't question it. I think she suspected something, but preferred not to know."

"Do you think she would've disapproved?"

"Certainly. Lily, in contrast to myself, forgave everyone. Well, almost…she would've certainly persuaded me to bury them with dignity, if only so I wouldn't have regrets about it one day," Snape replied.

"But you haven't regretted it, have you?" Harry asked.

"Not for an instant," Severus said with a measure of venom in his voice.

The boy shuddered and closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. "Your grandfather was named Arthus, wasn't he?"

"Yes," the Potions master agreed. "You must've seen his grave; it's one of the most recent in the cemetery."

"You knew him?"

"A bit. Enough. One of those fanatical purebloods. He would've surely appreciated my initiative in taking the Mark if he'd lived to see it. As it happened, he'd been dead for years and the small amount of time I spent in his company was sufficient for me to never think of putting flowers at his grave," Severus said from between his teeth. "He was an arrogant and merciless man. Incidentally, he was very close to his father."

"Not really a recommendation," Harry said as he made a knowing face.

"No," Snape admitted, he eyes lost in thought. "He never missed an opportunity to humiliate me. The half-blood who'd dishonored his noble family…but despite it all, still the only heir to his line, whether he accepted it or not."

"And he never changed his mind, given that? I’m sure if things had turned out that way for him, Malfoy would've simply changed his stance. He would've decided that half-bloods were the wave of the future, or something of the sort," Harry said.

"Most likely indeed," Snape agreed. "But not Arthus. One doesn't descend from the royal line of the famous King Arthur, only to lower oneself by halves. Bastard I was, bastard I remained, even after my uncle's death, the last hope of preserving the line." He allowed himself a small, sly smile. "In his time, there were stables in the park, as the Prince family traditionally raised race horses. My grandfather insisted I learn to ride when I came here to spend holidays. But it was unacceptable that I sully his precious purebreds. No, to that end he bought a mixed breed horse, a vicious and vindictive beast. A parallel that was in no way accidental," he laughed shortly. "During the entire time of the lessons, he repeatedly pointed out how perfectly the horse suited me. But in the end, he hadn't been wrong. We had much in common, including a certain desire to prove we were both worth more than the others. The day we bested Arthus and his favorite purebred, he shot my horse down. 'Spiteful and vindictive'… I wonder a great deal whom I owe that to," he gritted out.

On the other side of the desk, Harry sat speechless for a moment.

"What was his name?" he suddenly asked.

"Who? The horse? His name was Fiasco. Obviously," Snape said with one of his mirthless smiles.

"Obviously," Harry murmured. "It's not very polite, but…your family was nutters, you know? I mean, between him, your mother, your father…wasn't there anyone out of all of them that you loved? You said you liked to come here; I doubt it was for the family atmosphere."

"Actually, yes," Severus confessed. "It wasn't for my grandfather, nor even my grandmother, but my great grandfather lived as long as his son, and he was very different. We got on very well. His name was Mordred, but you mustn't have seen his grave; it's directly across from Arthus'."

"Arthus. Mordred," Harry said pensively. "You family really descends from King Arthur? The one from the legend?"

"That's what the Princes claimed, in any case," Snape said scornfully. "I don't know if it's true. I never looked into those files."

"But maybe it's not too late!" the boy exclaimed enthusiastically. "Did you keep the records?"

"No," Severus said curtly. "Besides, I lost all interest in those stories long ago. Everything was lost in the destruction of the old Manor."

"The old Manor?" It seemed to Harry that Snape tensed again. "Oh. You said the Manor was recent, didn't you? That it wasn't a family dwelling?"

"Indeed," the wizard said evasively, "the old structure was destroyed not long after the deaths of Arthus and Mordred."

"They…died at the same time?" Harry asked, all the while fearing the answer.

"As perfect Princes and faithful to the legend, they killed each other. I suppose one might consider this anecdote as the pinnacle of the worthy line of Princes. Aside from a few similar details, like the fact that the kingdom wasn't plunged into chaos. They only succeeded in destroying part of the old Manor, even though it was more a matter of a partially ruined cottage than anything else."

"They weren't rich? Like the Malfoys, I mean?"

"No, they were penniless nobles. The lived principally off horse-raising, a venture that's not very profitable these days, I'm afraid," Snape replied.

"But you said the old Manor was destroyed, so, this one...?" Harry began, sensing this was the burning question. And, in confirmation, Snape's eyes darkened.

"Very well," he said, "let's start this story at the beginning. In 1972, Mordred and Arthus Prince killed each other in a remarkable duel. The property should've gone to Eileen Snape, but Arthus had disinherited her by the book. To his great regret, he couldn't do the same with me, being the last of the line. The estate thus came to me. Despite all her efforts, my mother was never able to step across the boundaries of the park, even after her father's death. Out of spite, she refused that I set a foot here either, which I accepted until 1975 thereabouts, when Lily and I decided we'd like to spend a bit of time alone in the countryside during the holidays. After my parents' deaths, I returned here several times alone, preferring to live in what remained of the old Manor, rather than Spinner's End."

He took a deep breath.

"When I officially entered into…Voldemort's service, Prince Hall was my official residence. As much as one could call it that. The horses for the most part had turned wild; I gave some of them to breeders, and I granted the house-elves their freedom, as I was weary of their complaining. But I liked this place, the park, the slightly gloomy atmosphere of the old cottage. It was, after all, what seemed most like a family home to me. Voldemort had already come to inspect the place and he approved of my choice, concerning the estate at least. The cottage, though…" He cleared his throat. "Well, one day, I brought my master some information—valuable information that could change everything. By way of a reward, he offered to build me a residence 'befitting my station.' One like every Death Eater should have. So he had the rest of the cottage destroyed, and had the Manor built a short distance away. He even christened it, in my name. At the time, I saw that as a certain mark of acknowledgement—my Muggle father's name set above that of an old pureblood family. The real reasons were clearly otherwise."

"This information," Harry said hoarsely, "it was the prophecy, wasn't it?"

Snape's eyes became pained. "Yes," he breathed out. "The price of this Manor was your parents' lives. Betrayal. You understand now why it belongs more to you than it could ever belong to me."

Harry clenched his teeth. "I don't want it."

He watched Snape's face tense. "I understand."

"No," Harry forced himself to go on. "I'm not talking about you. Or about this place. I like the Manor, honestly, and all the rest of it. I don't want it at that price. I don't want all this guilt, all these horrors, all of its past. Couldn't we just take things as they are, leave all the rest of it behind? They're dead, you didn't want that, and none of that can be changed. It's enough, now. If need be, you've already paid enough in my eyes. I don't want to live here, thinking about how you were a Death Eater, how the Manor was built by Voldemort, that it was all built on ruins. I want to start something, build something, not…harp on the rest of it. I know my parents forgave you, and if even I don't hold things against you…well, let it drop, all right? I've had enough ghosts and nightmares. It'll never work like that."

On the other side of the desk, Severus had stilled, an expression of pure stupefaction on his face. Harry was almost tempted to smile. He'd managed to make Snape drop that mask of impassivity.

The professor blinked and quickly regained his composure.

"Well, Mr. Potter, this is a game that two can play," he said slowly. "I understand why you wish to visit your family's graves, and I approve. But I've not forgotten, either, how Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort attacked your mind and managed to make you believe you were responsible for certain deaths. I'm not the only one here who needs to leave the past where it belongs."

Harry laughed sheepishly. "I suppose we'll need some good family therapy," he said. Then, seeing Snape lift an eyebrow, he added, "I know. Easy to say, but not so easy to do. Will you go with me to see the graves?"

"Of course, stupid child," Severus answered gently.

Harry smiled outright this time. How was it that when things seemed the most complicated, they suddenly became simple again?

Seized by a sudden impulse, he changed into a black ball of fur and in a single leap was on Snape's lap, curling up as he waited for the familiar hand to begin to pet his fur. Which it did, after an instant of hesitation.

"You're truly incredible," the man sighed, the relief audible in his voice. The comforting hand lingered for a long and blissful moment. "Ready for the grand tour?"

The cat meowed, then climbed to perch on his master's shoulder.

"No, Harry, not like that," the professor said, taking him by the scruff of his neck before setting him on the floor. "You'll go to see your family on your own two feet, and with dignity. Take a shower, change clothes, and meet me in the laboratory."

The cat blinked and took off at a run, leaving behind a pensive Snape, who was suddenly overtaken by exhaustion. He'd always known he'd have to explain the Manor to Harry one day, but he'd sincerely believed that the explanation would mark the boy's definitive departure from the house, if not from his life. But no. If the boy still had some reservations on being adopted, he seemed on the other hand to have adopted his professor.

Snape let out a low groan as he rubbed his forearm. The sensation certainly wasn't an unfamiliar one, this gnawing pain that radiated persistently from the Mark to spread through his body, demanding its due. His master was exercising his rights to his person.

But this wasn't a tyrannical summons of Voldemort either; it was clearly a mark of possessiveness, but stamped with affection and insecurity.

Harry.

Harry who especially must not become aware of what was happening before everything was sorted out. Merlin, he only hoped the boy would learn to control his powers quickly, before these demonstrations of affection truly became uncomfortable.

Without waiting any longer, he strode toward his room. If he had to pay Lily a visit, it would be in suitable attire, and after all, wasn't he supposed to set a good example?

When the boy joined him a half-hour later in the laboratory, he was surprisingly solemn and exceptionally well-groomed. He was wearing clean robes that Severus recognized as one of those purchased a few days before in Diagon Alley.

Satisfied, Snape nodded. "Where would you like to start?"

"My parents," the boy quickly replied. "Does Dumbledore think there's any risk in going to Godric's Hollow?"

"Albus himself has taken charge of the village's surveillance since that night. There's nothing to fear there," Snape answered.

"All right. My clothes…are they all right?" Harry asked with a hesitant look.

Snape went to him to adjust his collar. "They're perfect," he said seriously. Harry smiled timidly. "Are you ready?"

"Ready," the boy replied. Snape placed his hands on Harry's shoulders, and the two of them Disapparated with a loud crack.

The cemetery at Godric's Hollow had hardly changed since the last time they'd been there, and the Potions master held back a shudder. Beside him, Harry seemed frozen in place, and moved a bit closer to him.

Sliding an arm around Harry's shoulders, Snape stepped forward, pulling the boy along with him.

"Have you come here before?" Harry breathed out. "Besides that day, I mean."

"Yes, once," Severus said. "A long time ago."

"For the funeral?"

"That would've hardly been appropriate. No, I came later, alone," Snape explained.

Harry glanced around them. They were now at the entrance to the cemetery, the one they'd had so much trouble getting through on that infamous night.

"The house is close by, isn't it?" he asked.

"It's nearby on the outskirts of the village, yes. At least what's left of it."

"Could I take a look at it?"

"Of course," Snape said. Without hesitation, he led the boy toward the remnants of the cottage. Merlin, he knew the way only too well…and the ruins seemed even more decrepit now than when he'd seen them several weeks before. They stepped over the threshold together this time, however.

"I sense magic," Harry murmured. "My parents', I suppose. It's still here…is that possible?"

"Of course. That's what allowed us to flee, the night when Voldemort decided to enact that macabre little scene. His own magic wasn't enough, up against what protected this house…its remains."

"You…you'd already been here, before it was destroyed?" the boy asked with a shiver.

"Yes," Snape admitted reluctantly. "It was a beautiful place."

Now, though, all that was left was a pile of stones, a few charred beams, and brambles growing from between the russet floor tiles.

"I suppose everything was destroyed in the explosion," Harry said. "It's a shame; I would've liked to have had some souvenirs. A painting, or something like that…" He shrugged as Snape thoughtfully looked at the cottage walls.

"Actually, it's rather strange…I came here the night your parents were killed," he said with an apologetic look, "and even though the roof and walls had buckled from the explosion, I recall that the furniture and most of the other things were still intact. I wonder what could've become of them. Albus might be able to answer that question."

Harry shook his head. "I guess I was happy here. I'd really like to remember that. Do you know where my room was?"

"Upstairs," Snape said as he pointed to what remained of the charred staircase.

"It's weird, but I feel good here," Harry murmured. "I shouldn't. It's where they died."

Severus squeezed his shoulder. "There was much love in this place. Some believe that walls remember…even when nothing much is left."

"Does all this, the ruins…still belong to me?" the boy asked.

"Yes, I assume so."

"That's good." He brushed away some wooden debris with his foot, and then bent down when he saw the reflection of something sliver. A fork, he noted, as he picked up the object—an old silver fork. He let out a long breath as he realized he was unable to leave the damaged and tarnished utensil behind. The same way Neville had kept that sweet wrapper his mother had given him.

Snape took it gently from his hand, before giving it back to him again—a few spells later—straightened and polished. Harry thanked him with a pitiful smile.

"Come," the professor said as he pushed him toward the door. "We'll come back later if you like."

Without a word, they headed for the little cemetery, the cold wind whipping at their cloaks and faces. Like a robot, Harry let Severus guide him among the graves, reading without really seeing the names along the way. Most included a short epitaph, and nothing really set this cemetery apart from any of the Muggle ones he might've seen.

Snape stopped suddenly, and Harry blinked, dreading to look down at the gravestone in front of him.

James Potter—1960-1981

Lily Evans Potter—1960-1981

Omnia vincit amor

Twenty-one, he realized. His parents had been twenty-one when they'd died. Born the same year, died the same day. Snape had been their age, and Harry was all of a sudden certain that the man would've liked to have been able to read his own name and dates on this gravestone, to have died that day himself. Harry turned to face him and saw that he'd closed his eyes. Was he praying? Probably not. But he didn't like the overwhelming sadness rolling off of him, and went to stand at his side, his shoulder touching Snape's arm. Snape opened his eyes again, seeming suddenly old and tired.

Harry swallowed. "Omnia vincit amor…is that Latin?" I understand Amor…" he said.

"Love conquers all," Severus translated.

"Oh." Harry frowned. Because that wasn't true, was it? They'd loved, and here they were, dead and buried. But he'd survived, of course. That was probably all that was important, even if at that moment he wasn't convinced of it. All this suffering, and for what? He didn't even have any memory of them, outside of photos and stories, and their recent ghostly apparitions. He couldn't even remember having ever been really happy over the course of his short life. He certainly hadn't been at the Dursleys', and although Hogwarts had changed his life, the years that had just passed had known their share of tragedy.

And now Sirius. If he'd not had Severus and these recent months with him, Harry wasn't sure he could've stood being here in front of his parents' graves. He shook his head, trying to rouse himself. He'd come here for a precise reason…he'd dressed and groomed himself well. All that he really lacked were flowers.

Beside him, Snape seemed to read his mind. Lifting his wand, he murmured an incantation, and in the next instant dozens of lilies sprang from the ground and encircled the graves.

"Thanks," Harry murmured, his stomach knotted. Taking a deep breath, he cleared his throat, then stepped toward the graves.

"Dad, Mum, I'm sorry I haven't come before now," he began. "I don't know if you know about things…I think you do, but life hasn't been all that easy lately. Not since you died, in fact. I have so many things to tell you, but it seems a bit stupid to do it here like this."

"It isn't," Snape said softly from behind him. "Take your time, Harry, I won't be far off."

Then with one last look at the grave, he quietly left. Behind him, he could see that Harry had sat and was speaking again. Merlin, it was so pathetic…how was it that that old fool Albus had never thought to bring Harry here? Had he thought the boy would break in two if he saw the marble headstone? Ridiculous.

Even if he had to confess that coming here was making him more uncomfortable than he would've thought. He'd only come here twice before: the first time, a few months after Lily's funeral, to ask her forgiveness, and then a few weeks ago, when he'd had to force his way through the gravestones and Death Eaters. Merlin, he even noticed the impact of those recent spells he'd avoided on certain of the headstones. Strangely, Harry didn't seem to be drawn into that past event. But upon consideration, he'd been so weakened that day that he mustn't have had much memory of it.

Which wasn't the case with Severus. And those names on the gravestone, James Potter, Lily Evans Potter…what a sacrilege. And that quote. Virgil. Lily's favorite poet. Who had been responsible for putting it there? Bloody hell, if only Lily hadn't married Potter, they wouldn't have trusted that stupid rat; if she'd listened to Severus, he and Harry wouldn't be here now, he and her orphan son, coming to visit their graves….

He groaned in frustration. It would be a better use of his time to find the final resting place of that imbecile Black, who'd decided it worthwhile to distinguish himself, once again, by playing with a lethal artifact in the middle of the Ministry of Magic. That animal had never had the least bit of a survival instinct, and he'd earned his fate. All that was left was his death weighing on the soul of his young protégé, and Snape felt cruelly bitter about that.

Lost in his thoughts, an eye on Harry still sitting cross-legged in front of his parents' graves, he almost didn't see the huge white dog hurtle into his legs. Snape swore and brandished his wand before changing his mind. No, not necessary…this dog wouldn't do him any harm. The translucent form had stopped in front of him, its tongue hanging out, clearly amused and satisfied with itself.

"Black," he hissed, "always in the wrong place at the wrong time! I see there are habits that not even death can change."

"That's not what you said the last time you were here, Snivellus!" the animal answered, in that typical voice that never failed to irritate Snape, whatever was said. And the dog hadn't even seemed to open its mouth.

Severus crossed his arms on his chest. "And to what do I owe this honor?" he said icily. "If it's for a thank you…"

"No," growled the dog, "even miracles have their limits. I came to see you about Harry. No need to waste time with sarcastic remarks; I'd adore having a little verbal duel, but I won't be able to stay long."

"In that case, best go straight to see Harry," Severus said, jerking his chin toward the boy.

"Well, no," the dog sighed. Could dogs sigh? It didn't matter. Black had come to talk to him, and he had to listen. "I can't do that…it would upset him too much. He didn't take my death too well, right?" Black asked.

"The death of the only person he thought of as a real father figure, Merlin forgive me?" Snape gritted out. "Cleary not. But he's coming to terms with his loss. Slowly. Given the circumstances, that in itself is a miracle."

"So no need to upset him any more," Black said, his eyes filled with regret for the small figure with its back to them. "Anyway, he's not the one I came to see. I know about the adoption. We all do."

"Merlin, even dead, you can't stop being a perfect nuisance, can you?" Severus hissed. "But that's of no importance. None. I don't need your blessing to do what I have to do, and given your lack of a certain…consistency, I doubt you're able to sign any papers, whether it be in my favor or disfavor. Go to hell, Black, and stay there."

The dog bared its teeth, but the Potions master didn't bat an eyelid.

"Stop with the big talk, Sni…Severus," he said. "I didn't come here to threaten you or convince you not to do it…quite the opposite, in fact."

Raising an eyebrow, Snape looked the dog up and down. "Have you lost your mind?"

"No, just my life. What do you need, a signed confession?" the dog barked. "Impossible, as you've just pointed out. All three of us have followed Harry since his birthday, as much as we could…from near and far, like that night in the cemetery. He needs you, Snape. And even if it costs me to admit it, you're the best one for it. But try to take good care of him, you hear? If anything happens to him…"

"What, the mutt will bite?" Severus sneered. "Has it escaped your notice that I've been working to keep the boy safe and sound for two months now? It's not the easiest of tasks, even if I must acknowledge that your help was more than appreciated," he confessed at last. The dog hung its head, obviously satisfied.

"Excellent timing, wasn't it? But I don't have much time. There's something else. You have to take care of it, Snape, with all you've got, since I couldn't. As hard as it is to admit, Harry loves you. I don't know why, but it's true. The problem…is that he loves us too."

"Jealous?" Severus said with a slight smile.

"And to think Albus never stopped talking about how intelligent you were…Merlin. I wonder if all of this isn't a waste of time. No, you ex-Death Eater, I'm not jealous. Harry needs someone, and if it has to be you…" The dog looked away. "So be it. You're better at it than I ever was. I was never able to stop seeing James in him, and believe me, I muddled things up a bit. I always knew I'd be a bad father…godfather, yeah, that suited me, but…"

"Very astute of you, Black!" Snape hissed.

"Yes, yes, exactly," Sirius went on. "Harry. He wants you to be his father, all right?"

Severus stiffened, but nodded.

"Well, be it. Go on with it. You have my bloody blessing, and that of Lily and James," Black growled.

"Wonderful," Severus said between his teeth. "Brightens my day. And it's the dog who's been sent with the news."

"Lily and James can't come here right now. They're over there with Harry, but not…like this. I'm the one who passed through the Veil, after all."

"Coherent as usual, Black," Snape said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Am I being given a bloody revelation, or just hearing the ravings of a ghost?"

"I'm not a ghost," the dog barked. "Not really anyway, and that's the problem! Voldemort, what happened with his powers, Harry…something didn't turn out right."

"Oh, really?" Severus said sarcastically.

"…and now, he's holding us here. Harry!" Sirius finished, suddenly frantic. "All three of us passed through the Veil, but we weren't supposed to stay. We just wanted to assure ourselves that everything would go well for Harry, that's all. But now, we're stuck here. I mean, not necessarily in the cemetery, but…doesn't matter. You have to do something, Snape."

"Like what?" the Potions master said, perplexed. He'd expected anything but this…

"He has to feel safe. At least that's what Lily thinks."

"I'm doing my best, but things haven't been quite that simple lately, between Voldemort, Loki, Malfoy, and even Dumbledore's genius ideas…"

"Snape, Snape, you can talk your nonsense later!" the dog barked. "Take care of Harry, and while we're on the subject, the Great Nutter knows about it."

"The Great… Voldemort? Knows about it? Knows about what?" Severus asked.

"The adoption. And about the Mark as well."

Snape reflexively brought his hand up to his forearm, and swore beneath his breath as he cast a furtive look at Harry, who hadn't budged. "That's not good," he breathed out.

"Of course it's not good. But it's better for you to be ready."

"I'm already prepared for anything," Snape sighed, "but this change in master isn't going to make things easier for me."

"Don't worry about that, Snape," Sirius said soothingly, which made the professor lift an eyebrow. "He'll understand. And he won't take advantage of it, he's a good boy."

"That's not what concerns me…" Severus began. "And since when do you have a semi-relevant opinion on everything, Black?"

"When you're dead, you have time to think about things," Sirius said philosophically. "Including the stupid things you've done. A few months ago, I would've never imagined saying that, but…I’m sorry, Snape. About Hogwarts, the trap with Remus, and all the rest of it. It was rotten of us, considering how Lily…well, Lily… Well, I’m not particularly proud of myself, and James neither. And listen, about Remus…forget that, would you? Clear the slate. He didn't have anything to do with it."

Snape felt his temper begin to rise. "Lupin never has anything to do with it, which is fine with him. And I've no need of your regrets, your apologies, or your blessing anymore. I never had the slightest interest in you, such as you all were, and you certainly aren't going to change now. You're dead, and I agree with you on one point: it's high time that you all go back to the right side of the Veil. Harry must live, and live in the present. You have my complete gratitude for your help, past and future, if it comes to that. But don't ask me to revere you. You know my position, and it won't change."

He read a flash of regret in the dog's eyes. "Makes no difference," he said at last. "Remus is just a victim. He deserves another chance."

"He and his son do nothing but threaten the life of mine!" Snape growled.

The dog hung its head, seeming amused and sad at once. "It all ends much too fast, Snape. You find yourself much too quickly on the other side of the Veil. So, take care of him…just keep doing that, Slytherin. It's a good job for a such a bloody bat."

He took a few steps away, turning his back to Harry. "Oh, and one of these days, think about changing shampoos. It's important for kids to be proud of their…parents. Use me for an example!"

Without waiting for the string of invective, he disappeared between two graves, leaving a furious but bewildered Snape.

He'd never been afraid of ghosts nor apparitions, and he'd had time to get used to the idea that Lily and the Marauders hadn't had their final say. But this?

He turned toward Harry. Clearly the boy must've sensed something, because he was watching Snape, his expression intrigued. Plastering a mask of indifference on his face, Snape walked toward him.

By the time he got there, Harry had stood and gestured for him to join him. Snape obeyed, a vague anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

"Dad, Mum," Harry began, "Here's Severus. What I meant was that he's my new father. I know you would be happy for me and that you'd approve. You can't imagine how important this is to me…but that doesn't change that you'll always be my parents. I hope you rest in peace and that you don't regret…anything."

This time it was the boy who put an arm around Severus' waist and leant against him, as if looking for comfort. At that moment, Snape felt like Harry was only ten, and in desperate need of making up for a lost childhood—something that didn't bother Snape at all. Once again, he placed an arm around the boy's shoulders and pulled him against himself.

Despite everything, Lily, he thought. I'm terribly sorry, James Potter.

"Black's grave isn't very far," he murmured. Harry nodded.

"Goodbye," he said to Lily and James' graves. "I'll come back."

Coincidence or not, a gust of wind blew just then, surrounding them in a swirl of dead leaves, gently ruffling their hair. Harry smiled and, without a word, they headed for the corner of the cemetery that Snape had just left.

Black's grave, in front of which the dog had found Snape, was one of the most recent and also the most somber.

"Hey, Sirius," the boy began. Severus could hear the tears in his voice and clenched his teeth. If the mutt decided to show himself now... "I guess you already know about things too," Harry continued, "after all that's happened here. I miss you. Do you remember the day you offered for me to come live with you? I think that was the best day of my life. Things didn't turn out that way, though, but now…I have a new father. I suppose you wouldn't be totally happy to know who…" He directed a wan smile at Severus. "…but I'm happy. And I know that's what counted the most to you. So even if it's not with you, know that I have a family now, and a home. Besides Grimmauld Place, I mean. I hope you've forgiven me for what happened at the Ministry. I was really stupid…and the mirror, well…."

He pulled an object from his pocket and handed it to Snape. "That one was Sirius'," he explained. "Mine is broken, but it still works. They're two-way mirrors. They could've been useful if I'd realized what they were before…." He sighed and turned to the grave again.

"Is that all right, Sirius? That way, if I have a problem, I'll be able to call Severus."

Snape would've found the monologue decidedly childish if he hadn't just spoken to the mutt only minutes before. Merlin, the boy had such a need to feel forgiven, for the approval of those he loved, dead though they were. Nothing surprising about his refusal to let them go. He inspected the mirror Harry'd given him. A good thing, this artifact; it would certainly be useful to them. He should see to repairing Harry's, though, so he didn't hurt himself.

"Thanks for everything, Sirius," the boy said at last. "I promise to do my best. And if I come across Bellatrix…"

Severus squeezed the boy's shoulder, but as a warning this time.

"If you come across Lestrange, you promise not to play games sidestepping her curses," he said sternly.

"That too," Harry agreed. "Bye, Sirius. Don't forget me…"

Snape held back a grimace. The crux of the matter…it remained to be seen how the young wizard, in spite of himself, could utilize his powers to control the ghosts of the ones he loved around him. Merlin, could the situation be any more complicated?

"Would you like to go straight to the Dursleys' graves, or do you prefer to wait?" he asked.

"Might as well do it now," the boy replied. "Though I'd like to come back here later to meet people. Some of them must've known my parents when we lived here."

"Probably, but it most likely wouldn't be very safe to question them, given the times," Severus pointed out. "You're going to have much to do this year, Harry, but if you're set on it, we can come back here next summer, if things have calmed down, and stay in the village for a while."

Harry nodded. "I just hope it won't be the same sort of neighborhood as Privet Drive."

"I doubt it," Snape answered. "Ready?"

The boy held onto him firmly in answer. "You know what? I don't think I'll ever learn to Apparate. I feel like I'm going to leave my skin behind every time."

"Is it better in your feline form?"

"Um, yeah, I think so," Harry replied after thinking for an instant. "But I doubt that's a good idea in the middle of a Muggle cemetery."

"I'm going to Apparate us into a safe place, in any case."

"That'll work," the boy said with a shrug. "Shows you're learning."

Satisfied, Snape agreed. A second later, they appeared in the most remote corner of a little local cemetery with rows of neatly lined-up graves.

"Merlin," Harry murmured as he stepped forward, "it's like a dead version of Privet Drive. You could almost say someone comes every Sunday and hoovers the aisles."

"Not very picturesque, I agree," Severus said. By chance, the place was empty and he remembered the placement of the graves precisely. They wouldn't have to spend more than a few minutes here, but he hardly found the place pleasant…the absence of magic, perhaps…

As they headed for the row where the Dursleys lay, Snape felt his uneasiness deepen. Something wasn't right here, and it wasn't just the man-made aspect of the graves or the plastic flowers; it was something else. It wasn't until they reached the Dursleys' graves that he finally figured it out: it wasn't the absence of magic that disturbed him, but its presence, infinitesimal at first, but which grew more pronounced the farther along they went.

"Harry, about-face, get away from there!" he shouted to the boy who'd gone ahead of him by several dozen feet.

But he knew right away that he was too late. The spell awaiting the boy had just activated and alerted the one who'd placed it there. The answer wasn't long in coming: a crack rang out, then a figure appeared that made the hair on the back of Snape's neck bristle.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

She didn't even waste time screaming out a hideous laugh; she rushed for Harry, teeth bared, a greedy and triumphant gleam in her eyes. Severus had just enough time to pull out his wand before the witch grabbed the stunned boy by the arm. Her victory, though, was short-lived. It seemed to Snape that Harry suddenly began to glow with a strange green light, and Bellatrix was thrown backwards with a cry of rage. The green didn't disappear, though: it detached itself from the boy to form a protective aura around him, leaving Severus flabbergasted.

He knew that color, and he knew the spell that had caused it.

Protego. His Protego, to be exact. But he hadn't done anything; he hadn't had the time! Bellatrix turned a hate-filled look toward him, before lifting her wand as she recovered from her surprise.

This time Severus didn't give her the chance. Closing the distance between himself and his son with a single leap, he was the one to grab Harry this time, and without an instant's hesitation, Apparated to the Manor.

For a moment, he was afraid that the shield would repel him too, but nothing came of it, and with bitter satisfaction he saw Harry appear at his side in the laboratory.

To his great surprise, however, the boy didn't seem happy to have been pulled away.

"No!" he shouted at once. "Back, we have to go back, it was Bellatrix!"

"Yes, I noticed that, stupid child," Snape growled, trying to push away the boy, who was frantically holding on to him, waiting to Apparate again.

"You don't understand, it's Bellatrix; she killed Sirius, I have to do something! Not…not kill her, but capture her at least! Please, you know I'm right, what're you waiting for?"

"She'll already be gone, Harry," Severus said calmly, refusing to meet his eyes.

Realizing he was right, the boy took a step backward, his jaw clenched. "Why did you do that?" he asked, the reproach clear in his voice. "I'm not made out of glass, she couldn't do anything to me; we should've put her out of action!"

"Sometimes, one must know how to make a choice," the professor said soberly.

"What choice? I don't understand!"

"Myself fighting Bellatrix, or Apparating here with you! Do you think I don't regret not being able to do something to that fanatic, one against one…" He shook his head. "It was one or the other, Harry. In case you've not yet understood, my magic no longer allows me to use my power in an unlimited fashion. Something you should perhaps consider before deciding if you should sign those papers," he said as he gestured toward the parchments.

"Severus, I can do it, I'm convinced of it! Just let me try—take me by the arm!" Harry cried, beside himself.

For a few long moments, Snape scrutinized him, more fatigued by these repeated Apparations than he wanted to admit. Yes, perhaps: if Bellatrix had still been there, if the boy had better mastered his powers, if he'd been better prepared at dueling…but even in that case, Severus would've been unable to Side-Along Apparate him, his reserves depleted for the day.

He turned wearily for the stairs, feeling more useless and disheartened than he had in a long while. "Go rest," he said to the boy. "It's been a long day."

"Wait, don't go!" Harry cried. "I have to do it! Please! If you love me, if you really want me to be your son, then take me back there. That's all I ask."

Severus almost literally froze. For several seconds, the threat hung between them as neither made a move. Then, without turning back, Snape continued on his way.

"Go back to Hogwarts. Explain to Dumbledore what happened. I'll join you later."

And without a backward look, he closed the door behind him.