1996

Harry grimaced as his neck creaked. His mum’s sofa was obviously not meant to be used as a bed. He waggled his head once more against the pillow that he couldn’t remember putting there. The creased muscles ironed themselves out slowly. Feeling able to move again, though rather weighted down with lead, Harry pushed himself up. The left side of his pillow was damp with drool. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep, or even what time it was.

Harry’s eyebrows lifted in surprise as he twisted his neck to iron out the kinks. His father was sprawled, completely gracelessly, in one of the armchairs facing the sofa. He was sleeping,his chin was pressed into his chest. Harry smiled a little as he peeled the blanket away from his legs and stood. His eyes drifted over to the two empty vials standing on the table in front of his father.

Harry reached down for them, and brought them close to his eyes. He wasn’t wearing his glasses but he could read the words if he squinted. Harry’s gaze darted back over to his father. He had actually taken Pomfrey’s Sleeping Draught, and a Dream Suppressive?

Harry stared at his father, his mind tripping over things that Severus would probably never admit to. He wondered painfully how difficult it had been for his father to sleep, and if he’d had nightmares without the potion. The thought made him feel ill. His dad shouldn’t have to suffer that way.

Moving very quietly so that he wouldn’t disturb him, Harry picked up his blanket and settled it around Severus’ waist and legs. He stepped back, after tucking it in as much as he dared. Severus hadn’t stirred at all. Harry sighed with relief before turning around and searching quickly for his glasses. Once he’d plucked them from the low table in front of the couch, Harry cast a Tempus Charm. It was almost twelve hours since his father had announced his intention to teach him the Contraceptive Charm before he could see Ginny again.

Harry sighed at the thought. He really wanted to talk to her.

“Yes, just talk,” he’d said with a grimace after his father had suggested he stretch out onto the sofa when Harry couldn’t stifle a huge yawn. He’d been trying to explain that he wanted to see Ginny first thing in the morning.

“No matter your intention, Harry, you and I are going to have a lesson on the various charms designed to insure that Ginny does not find herself-”

“All right,” Harry had interrupted hastily, not wanting his father to finish that particular statement.

Harry shook his head as he remembered his father’s calm nod. Why the hell did he have to be so candid about these things? Couldn’t he just stammer and stutter his way over the topic like he was certain most fathers would?

It was well into the afternoon, and though Harry was almost certain he could probably find Ginny, he wouldn’t. Not after Severus had been so understanding about everything that had happened over the past few days. Even if Harry couldn’t really see the problem; it wasn’t as if he had plans to do anything except try to explain to Ginny that Sirius hadn’t taken over his mind. Or Voldemort either, for that matter.

Harry brushed away the faint unease that even thinking about Voldemort brought to his chest. He needed to shower and dress anyway. Musings on Voldemort would have to wait.

Severus was still sleeping soundly when Harry reemerged from his bedroom, dressed in clean clothes, and feeling much better for it. It seemed odd for Severus to be sleeping so well. Harry, after living with his father for the past month, had found that Severus was an extremely light sleeper. He always woke up if Harry left his room in the middle of the night. Concerned, Harry went over to the Floo. Perhaps he’d better have Pomfrey check on him.

The low flames in the grate sprung up as soon as Harry tossed down a fistful of powder. He called for the Infirmary and stuck his head through. Pomfrey looked up from organizing a narrow cupboard near her office door.

“Harry? All you all right?” She dropped her hands from a stack of clean sheets to hurry toward the fireplace.

“Harry?”

The warm, familiar voice made Harry smile, even though Sirius wasn’t supposed to be awake yet. Harry tried to crane his neck, but he couldn’t see anyone except Pomfrey.

“Sirius?”

Pomfrey made a shooing motion off to right as she bent her face to Harry’s, acting as though Harry hadn’t even spoken.

“Is your father all right?” she asked.

Harry nodded, his eyes making a quick dash to Pomfrey’s right. No Sirius. “He’s still asleep. He took some potions, and I wanted to ask you to check on him.”

Pomfrey looked relieved. “I was there a few hours ago. He was still awake. I took care of that,” she said with scowl.

“What did you do?” Harry asked, feeling mildly alarmed and wondering if Pomfrey could have been irritated enough to put him to sleep for days, or even weeks.

“I threatened to bind him to his bed until Christmas if he didn’t take the Sleeping Draught.”

Harry laughed. It felt good. He wished he had been awake for that. Pomfrey smiled at him.

“He only agreed because I didn’t protest to him sleeping in the chair so that he wouldn’t have to leave your side,” she told him, sounding very fond of Severus in that moment. Harry smiled. He heard a rustle of sheets, followed by a throat, clearing pointedly. Pomfrey turned to the side. “I would have thought that your experience would have granted you a little patience, Mr. Black.”

“I’ve been sitting here for hours, waiting to talk to Harry, haven’t I?” Sirius’ voice floated over to Harry’s ears.

“I thought you were going to wait to wake him,” Harry said, doing his best not to sound upset over it. After all, Pomfrey had taken care of his father. Pomfrey sighed.

“The Headmaster had other ideas, I’m afraid, Mr. Snape.” Harry made a sour face at the mention of Dumbledore’s usual meddling. Pomfrey smiled sympathetically before gesturing for Harry to enter. Harry hesitated before glancing back at his father. Severus was still sleeping soundly. “He will sleep for several more hours,” Pomfrey assured him. Harry turned back to the Infirmary. He nodded.

Pomfrey straightened and moved back. Harry stepped through the flames. His nerves quieted as soon as he saw Sirius. Sirius was sitting up in the bed closest to the fireplace, twisting slightly as he had obviously been trying to get a look at Harry. As soon as Harry turned to him, a grin broke across his face.

“Hey there, kiddo.”

His voice sounded so easy, so relaxed, that Harry could only stare at him. What had happened to the angry, unbalanced man that had raged at Severus half a day ago? Sirius’ lip twisted a little into a wry smile.

“I’ve had a bit of a chance to process.”

“The Calming Draught is helping as well,” Pomfrey put in dryly as she went back to her cupboard. Sirius shrugged, still smiling.

Harry peered at his godfather. Watching carefully for any twitch that might indicate that he was about to start hoping for hell to swallow him up again. Sirius sighed, a loud sound in the otherwise silent room.

“It’s all right, Harry. I’m not going to go mad again.” The words were meant to be reassuring, Harry was sure of it, but somehow he couldn’t stop feeling wary around this man who had always been so easy to be around. “Harry,” Sirius said solemnly as he spread his hands a little in front of him, as though making a peace-offering, “I promise I won’t shout anymore.”

Harry smiled at that, at the way Sirius’ face had taken on such an uncharacteristically grave demeanor. Sirius relaxed as soon as Harry’s nervous frown disappeared. He patted the empty space on the bed, his expression so hopeful, that Harry hoisted himself onto Sirius’ bed without protest. He crossed his legs and slouched tiredly. Twelve hours of sleep obviously hadn’t been enough.

Sirius was gazing at him, carefully watching his movements as Harry settled himself in. Harry was watching Sirius as well. He looked so different than he had sixth months ago. Or least Harry remembered his face more deeply shadowed, the lines more pronounced in his face. But how could Harry even be sure what Sirius had looked like then? It had been so long…and Harry hadn’t even had any pictures of his godfather to remind him what he looked like.

“Shit, Sirius,” he said quietly, suddenly overwhelmed with the sheer impossibility of what he could so clearly see before him.

“Mr. Snape.” Obviously, he hadn’t been as quiet as he thought. He glanced over to the source of the sharp admonishment. Pomfrey was giving him a reproving look. Harry grimaced a little.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he turned back to his godfather. Sirius was grimacing as well. He hastily tried to straighten out his expression though as Harry turned back to him.

But apparently, he wasn’t able to stop himself from asking, “Snape?”

Harry bit back a sigh. He wasn’t going to let himself become irritated…Sirius needed time, just as his dad and Remus had said. It was only fair.

Sirius leaned forward again. “You didn’t have to change your name, Harry. James wouldn’t have minded if you’d kept it.”

Harry pressed his palms together. “I know that, Sirius.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t anything to do with James.”

Sirius stiffened. “Is that what Snape told you? James died trying to protect you, Harry.”

Harry flinched, as much from the unnecessary reminder as from Sirius’ unusually harsh tone. Regret instantly morphed Sirius’ face into a frown.

“I know,” Harry whispered, trying not to allow himself to think too much about James. He felt guilty for that too. For needing the man to die for him. He felt guilty for a lot of things to do with James… “That isn’t what I meant,” Harry continued, pushing the image of James below his shield.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

Harry shrugged away the apology. Sirius looked like he wanted to continue, but Harry went on, “I do understand how much he did for me. And I’m very grateful for all of it. Both of us are.”

Sirius nodded, though it looked more like he was humoring Harry than actually believing what Harry was saying.

“It’s complicated, Sirius.” Harry gestured expansively. “All of this is complicated.”

Sirius nodded again, but this time the movement was genuine, as was the look of concern that deepened the lines around his mouth and eyes. “I don’t mean to make this any more difficult than it has to be, Harry.” He frowned as he leaned forward. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m all right, Sirius. I really am,” Harry assured him, leaning forward in an unconscious imitation of his godfather. “And this doesn’t have to be difficult at all-”

“Harry,” Sirius interrupted, “the animosity between Snape and me goes back too far to simply forgive and forget what happened-”

“He and Remus have,” Harry interrupted Sirius this time, though he wished a second later that he hadn’t, even more so as he realized how unintentionally accusatory the comment had sounded. Sirius’ mouth closed slowly. Harry’s throat felt dry as he struggled to figure out how to undo the hurt that was spreading over Sirius’ features.

“Remus doesn’t have anything to forgive.”

“Don’t be angry with Remus, Sirius,” Harry implored softly. Sirius’ eyes snapped.

“He lied to me, Harry. And he took Snape’s side-” Sirius’ lips clamped shut.

Harry’s fingers were beginning to hurt from pressing them so tightly together. “Are you angry with me as well, then?”

Sirius’ lips parted as his face fell. He shook his head rapidly. “No, Harry. Of course I’m not angry that Snape is your father,” he said gently, though his eyes were still heated. Harry narrowed his eyes.

“Just that I don’t mind that he is," he surmised.  He crossed his arms over his chest. Sirius’ sighed.

“How do you expect me to react to this, Harry?” he demanded, though his voice did not rise above his quiet tone. “I come back here to find that not only is Snape your father, but he’s always been your father. He was married to Lily, and for years, James lied to me.” Sirius’ leaned forward again, his eyes intense. “Do you even realize how impossible this seems? How can I not wonder if Snape has confunded you?”

The irritation faded a little. Sirius really didn’t seem angry with him. Confused and hurt perhaps, but not angry. “I haven’t been confunded, Sirius. Remus told you about it. My dad would have had to confund everyone else.”

Sirius grimaced at the mention of Remus. Harry frowned at him, but before he could tell Sirius again that he really shouldn’t be angry with Remus, his godfather was saying, “Dumbledore was here earlier. He showed me some memories.”

Harry stiffened.  “Which memories?” he asked worriedly.

“The same ones he said you saw this summer. Lily’s memories.”

“He had no right to take those!” Harry exploded before he could stop himself. Sirius reared back a little at Harry’s reaction, but Harry barely noticed. He was too busy silently fuming at Dumbledore. And wondering how long he would be able to avoid telling his father about Dumbledore’s sticky fingers. Harry didn’t have to wonder just what his dad would do if he found out.

“I thought you’d want me to see them,” Sirius said, bringing Harry’s attention back to him. Harry sighed.

“The Pensieve isn’t mine,” he explained. Sirius narrowed his eyes.

“And Snape would object to me seeing the truth?”

Harry considered that briefly. It wasn’t certain that he would object to that, exactly, but those were personal memories and Harry didn’t think his dad would really want Sirius to be part of something so intimate. So he tilted the conversation a bit. “Dumbledore should have asked, that’s all. He had to sneak into our quarters to get it.”

Sirius actually smiled briefly at that image. But then he shook his head. “Are you really living with him?” he asked, his tone changing a bit so that Harry could tell that he was trying very hard not to sound upset over it. Harry nodded. “Why can’t you live in the tower with your friends?”

Harry’s mind wandered back to a very similar conversation he’d had with Ron. Ron hadn’t been any happier with the arrangement. But at least Ron had eventually understood. He didn’t know if Sirius would be able to—he’d missed so much.

“I’ve never had a chance to be-” Harry broke off, realizing how the rest of that sentence would sound to Sirius. After all, he knew that Sirius thought of them as family. And even though he had a father now, Harry still felt the same way about Sirius. Sirius’ brow furrowed.

“A chance to be what, Harry?” Harry didn’t know how to finish without hurting Sirius, so he simply shook his head. Sirius put a hand carefully over one of Harry’s. “It’s all right if you don’t want to live with Snape. You shouldn’t be made to feel it’s your obligation simply because you share your genes with him.”

“I know that, Sirius,” Harry stressed, keeping his hand still beneath Sirius’. “It’s not anything like that.” He paused, trying to order his thoughts…and trying to keep them calm as the memories of Halloween presented themselves. “He was—” he forced his storm to steady to a light gray “—Voldemort hurt him when he found out that he was my father. I stayed with him until he got better, and after that…I can’t explain it, Sirius.” He looked at his godfather imploringly, silently begging for him to understand. “I just—I wanted to live with him. I’ve never had a proper family.”

He’d said it anyway. Harry swore silently and waited for Sirius’ face to crumple again with hurt. But Sirius frowned instead.

“And are you, Harry?” he asked intently. “Are you and Snape a proper family?”

Harry stared at his godfather. “I don’t understand what-”

Sirius gripped Harry’s hand, though not painfully. “Dumbledore told me what Lily’s sister and her husband did to you, Harry.” Harry heart began pounding with alarm. Sirius’ eyes were flashing with renewed hatred. “The people who were supposed to have been your proper family.”

“Don’t kill them, Sirius,” Harry pleaded, leaning forward and gripping Sirius’ hand now. Sirius’ eyebrows rose in quick surprise.

“Is that why you never told me that they were starving you and keeping you prisoner…because you thought I’d kill them?”

Harry shook his head though. “There was nothing you could have done.”

Sirius looked halfway between sadness and outrage at Harry’s claim. “Nothing I could have done? Harry, I would have done anything I had to do to make sure that coward and his family wouldn’t hurt you anymore.”

The words did not surprise Harry at all. But that wasn’t what he had meant; he shook his head, his throat aching. “You couldn’t have made them love me, Sirius.”

Sirius was quiet for a long time. Harry shifted against the bed, wondering what his godfather was thinking about. He was gazing at Harry, though he seemed to be lost in thought, rather than paying attention to his godson’s face. When Sirius spoke again, his voice was very soft. “And you believe Snape…loves you?”

Harry bristled at the question. He felt his mouth twisting into an angry scowl, but Sirius held up a hand, halting Harry’s mild explosion. “Harry, how can you think I won’t ask you that?” he asked, keeping his voice low still, and Harry wondered if he didn’t want Pomfrey to overhear their conversation.

“I don’t want to upset you, Harry, of course I don’t, but do you have any idea how hard this is for me to understand? Leaving aside everything that happened between us, he hated you for five years.” Harry flinched, which made Sirius frown. “What happened, Harry?” He made an agitated motion with his fingers. “And I don’t mean the facts. Remus told me everything while you were sleeping. What happened to make you accept this? To make you believe that Snape, of all people, could love you?”

Harry felt like he was having trouble breathing. How was he supposed to answer that? How could he possibly make Sirius understand everything that had happened? As if somehow each action could be separated and put into neat boxes that were tied with little bows.

What would he say?

He couldn’t tell Sirius that his dad hugged him without reservation, that he told him to eat and sleep when he didn’t want to, or that Severus had strong-armed the Minister for him. He couldn’t explain that his dad cared enough about him that he didn’t want him to hurt Ginny. He barely understood it himself. And he certainly wasn’t about to tell Sirius that his father had promised dire consequences if he ever drank firewhisky again. Sirius would take that the wrong way, especially as Harry could admit to himself that there was comfort in the promise. An odd, nervous sort of comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

But Harry finally shook his head, afraid his godfather was literally going to explode if he didn’t say something. Sirius’ eyes felt like they were boring through him. “He does love me, Sirius. If you saw those memories, then you know he does. You must have seen it.”

Sirius closed his eyes, exhaling a slow, gusty hiss. “I did see it, Harry. And that’s exactly why I can’t accept this.” His eyes popped open again; the grey eyes were steel. “If I hadn’t known that was Snape, I would have said without a doubt that he loved you in those memories.”

Harry braced himself for what he thought was coming.

“But he is Snape, and that’s why it doesn’t surprise me that he left you. It’s because of him that you were denied love as a child, Harry. He was horrid to you for years when you finally came to Hogwarts. And then simply because he finds out that Lily lied to him, he decides that it’s okay for you to be his son again? After he threw you aside like rubbish?”

Harry had long since yanked his fingers from Sirius’, and curled them together in his lap, desperately trying to keep them from trembling. But it was pointless; his entire frame was beginning to shake. He felt sick as he watched Sirius’ face flushing toward purple.

“He didn’t even ever bother to check up on you,” Sirius went right on, his strangled tone not changing at all. “He left you at the Dursley’s to rot. Don’t you see Harry?” he implored. “Someone who could do all of that to you, couldn’t love you.”

Harry vision began to cloud and the room was tilting precariously.

“Harry?”

Sirius’ face had shifted in alarm. Harry’s hands were fisted together, his jaw clamped together and his entire body seemed to be shuddering, as though the skin was about to begin tearing itself apart. Harry could feel his storm roiling blackly; he tried to modulate it, but it was very difficult. He could almost picture himself smashing his fist into something solid and hard.

Sirius was moving toward him. “Harry,” he repeated anxiously. “Harry, calm down. You’re shaking the entire bed…Harry?”

Harry could hear Sirius’ voice, and he could feel the bed shaking, in perfect rhythm to the tremors coursing through his own body, but he couldn’t seem to still the violent storm, or the reckless urges that seemed to accompany it.

All he wanted to do was to get away from here.

He straightened his trembling legs and tried to scramble off the bed. But he nearly fell over. Sirius leaned over and caught his arm, his reflexes swift and smooth as Harry felt a wave of dizziness washing over him.

“Harry, please…I didn’t mean to upset you…I’m sorry. Please just wait a minute,” Sirius pleaded with him, his eyes wide and concerned as Harry tried to pull away. His hands felt clammy, and his mouth was dry, but he glared at Sirius all the same, ignoring the need to sit down—or to throw something.

“For what, Sirius?” he demanded. “I know he left me. I know he was complete areshole!And I know he shouldn’t love me, but you never bothered to come for me either. You only ever cared enough to escape when you thought you could capture Pettigrew!” Harry’s ears were ringing with renewed fury over things he’d had no idea he was even angry about. “Or did you think I didn’t notice that?” he demanded bitterly as Sirius stared at him in shock.

“Nobody ever wanted me. Not even you, so don’t act as though you have one up on him.” His voice cracked against his will. “You can just go to hell, Sirius.” Sirius’ fingers had gone slack and Harry wrenched himself away, having no idea where he was intending to go.

But it didn’t matter.

Suddenly, the Infirmary door swooshed open and a new set of footsteps joined Pomfrey’s, who had been alerted by Harry’s furious shouts.

“Harry, thank Merlin!”

Harry’s head came up jerkily to stare in confusion at Remus. Remus was breathing heavily, as though he had just run up the many stairs that led to the Infirmary. His mouth opened, but then snapped shut again as he looked between Harry and Sirius.

“What’s going on?” he asked slowly, the worry angling his voice to a higher octave.

“Perhaps you should ask Mr. Black,” Pomfrey’s prickly voice suggested, even as she waved her wand over Harry.

Remus turned abruptly to Sirius, whose face was ashen by now as well.

“What the hell happened, Sirius?” Remus’ sharp voice cut through what was left of Harry’s tide of fury. He needed to get away from both of them. From all of this.

“Nothing happened,” he asserted tersely as he spun back toward the Floo.

“Harry-”

The rest of Remus’ words were cut off as the Floo flared angrily and a disheveled Severus stumbled out. His eyes were wild with fear. As soon as they landed on Harry however, they shifted immediately to stark relief, his breath coming in harsh gulps. He didn’t even bother to mask the emotion overwhelming his features.

His face shifted again, to irritation this time, but that was immediately squashed as he stepped forward, pulling in a long steadying breath. Harry wasn’t fooled though by the suddenly still features; his father’s jaw was taut, but he wasn’t given the chance to speak.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” Pomfrey admonished as she came over to join them by the Floo. “I gave you enough of that draught to keep you asleep well into the evening.”

Severus didn’t take his eyes off his son. “I did not take all of it."

“Severus Snape!”

Severus’ black eyes flicked toward her, and Harry could tell his father’s emotions were barely under control, just like his own. “This is not the time for a lecture, Poppy,” he said in a low voice. Pomfrey glared at him, apparently unimpressed with his warning. She did, however, seem to realize he was irritated.

“I told Harry you would be asleep for several more hours when he asked me to check on you.”

Severus’ eyes were on Harry again. His voice was carefully stiff when he spoke. “Your housemates were very surprised to find the Head of Slytherin House in their common room for the second day in a row…your friends will no doubt be looking for you as well now,” he added, some of the irritation slipping through now. “Perhaps a note would have been appropriate.”

“Sorry,” Harry murmured, not looking at his father anymore. He couldn’t stand to look at any of them. He had to get away. From all of them.

The irritation drained from Severus’ face. His eyes narrowed in concern as he studied his son’s guarded stance, his pale features. “Are you all right?”

Harry nodded sharply, not particularly caring that it was a complete lie.

Before Severus had a chance to say anything more, the Floo roared again and Harry’s friends tumbled out into the Infirmary.

“For pity’s sake, this is not a train station,” Pomfrey snapped, though she was already moving to help them to their feet. Before they could even open their mouths, Severus stepped in front of them and snapped his palm outward.

“Harry’s Floo powder,” he said tersely when the three Gryffindors only stared at him. With a look, that was both startled and guilty, Ginny wiggled her first two fingers into her pocket and withdrew the little box. She handed it over to Severus without a word. Severus tucked it into his robe pocket. “I believe all of you know how to use a door. I suggest you do so from now on.”

The Gryffindors were silent at Severus’ curt directive. No one else seemed to be keen on speaking either. Severus’ eyes roamed the room, his face still as he took in Black, on his bed, clutching the bedclothes as though he was afraid he was going to topple over and onto the floor. He caught Remus’ guilty gaze next.

Severus pinched his lips together and turned back to Harry. His son seemed to be shivering slightly. Severus reached out and cupped his palm against Harry’s forehead. His skin was clammy, though there was a light flush to his cheeks and Severus could feel Harry’s wisp vibrating with fury amongst his flames.

“What happened?” he asked quietly as he withdrew his hand, deciding to ignore the stares he felt from everyone else in the room.

“Nothing,” Harry whispered, keeping his eyes averted. But Severus could see the pain dashed across his son’s face. He could not imagine that Remus would ever cause Harry that kind of pain. But Black—Severus knew that Black had said something…he had done something to hurt Harry.

Momentarily swallowing his own ire, Severus carefully shadowed Harry’s wisp so that his son would not feel the rage boiling upward, threatening to explode.