As the date drew closer, Harry's jangled nerves crescendoed and he wished that he could halt time because he really wasn't looking forward to this whole Father and Son Day. Granted, Snape had been making an effort to spend time with him, to train him and develop some sort of strategy for the first competition, which was a duelling contest. Yes, Snape was really a very caring, and sensitive man, who between snapping at him to get his bloody head out of his arse and pay attention to his wand movements, from: “Where the hell were you when they were handing out brains boy?”, to “A newt has a higher IQ than you!”, the man was positively dripping with sensitivity and patience. It was such a joy to be spending time bonding with his dear old dad.

Yes... spending every waking moment with a man whose tongue was sharper than a whip and whose gruelling training regiment of insisting Harry wake at five o'clock every morning, run twenty laps around the castle, do one hundred situps, pushups and twisted and turned his limbs like a pretzel till they obeyed his every command. Yes it was pure joy flopping into bed each evening feeling as though someone had turned him inside out.

"You alright mate?" Ron asked concernedly. He'd barely seen his friend at all lately. Snape allowed Harry very little free time outside of his training, and when he wasn't training, Snape insisted that Harry keep up with his schoolwork.

"Yeah, just kind of sore," Harry reassured him. "I thought this whole Father and Son Day was supposed to be fun," Harry complained. "Snape treats it like we're in the bloody army."

Ron chuckled. "Well, better you than me, Harry.” Ron ducked a pillow. "Night mate."

"Night Ron," Harry said sleepily before he fell into an exhausted slumber.

----

The next day in Potions class, Harry and Ron took the first available seats, as they rushed in just as the bell was ringing. Unfortunately, they were seated next to Malfoy and Pansy.

Hermione, who, of course had arrived well in advance of the bell ringing, signaling the beginning of class, gave them a disapproving look, and shook her head.

"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape barked out.

The Slytherins, and especially Malfoy, jeered at him.

Harry glared at Snape. What a git. They weren't even technically late, he thought angrily. The bell had only just rang. He slammed his bag on the desk.

Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry warningly. Even though he thought that they'd been getting along better than usual, Snape noticed that Harry was apt to show off and act defiantly in front of his friends, particularly Weasley. Severus found that the boy seemed more receptive to his efforts at a relationship when his friends weren't around to impress.

"Psst...Potter," Draco whispered at Harry when Snape's back was turned.

Harry scowled. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"I heard a rumour that you and Snape are planning on competing in the father and son duelling contest." He said this as though the idea was presposterous.

"Yeah...so?"

"So, you're wasting your time, that's all." Draco leant in a little closer. "You have no chance in winning because my father and I are participating as well," he said with a sneer, "and we're going to kick your arse, Potter."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"Scared Potter?" Malfoy asked in the same superior tone that he had used in second year when he had asked Hary the same question.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah I'm just quivering with fear," he said sarcastically.

"My father has been training me Potter, and since he's an expert in duelling, you and Snape are going to look like fools." He put on a really irritating fake laugh . "Aw, but I forgot, it's not an act...you really are fools!"

Harry felt his blood boil. Images of Lucius in the Graveyard infiltrated his mind. Of his cruelty and support of a monster who could so ruthlessly kill an innocent boy.

He wasn't quite sure what possessed him, but he couldn't stop himself from retorting, "Yeah well, my father has been training me too Malfoy, and he's ten times the dueller that your Death Eater father is, and if anyone is going to look like a fool, it's you and your father."

With a malicious smile on his face, Malfoy said, "Death Eater father? That's rich. That's like the pot calling the cauldron black. Trust me, Potter, Snape could teach my father a thing or two about being a Death Eater. Why don't you ask him yourself."

Harry narrowed his eyes at Malfoy. "What the hell are you talking about, Malfoy? If you've got something to say, why don't you just say it," he said angrily.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," a silky voice said behind them, making both boys jump, "if you've got something to say, why don't you say it."

Malfoy's face blanched. "Uh...no sir, I've got nothing to say," he stammered.

"I thought not."

"Fifteen points from Slytherin," Snape announced. Oh, how it broke his heart to take points from his own house, but he could not allow Draco to spread rumours; albeit ones that were founded in truth. It made him rather nervous that Draco was hinting at his past. What exactly had Lucius told the boy?

Harry's jaw dropped, as did Draco's. Snape had actually taken points from Slytherin. Harry had never thought that he'd see the day. Before he could gloat, however, Snape ruined his allusions that he would escape punishment.

Snape gave his son a stern glare. "And fifteen points from Gryffindor. And-" He gave both boys a hard look. "-unless both of you would like to spend this evening scrubbing cauldrons, then I suggest you refrain from disturbing my class again with your idle chit-chat. Is that clear, boys?"

Harry looked mutinously at his father. and mumbled, "Yes sir."

"Yes sir," Draco replied grudgingly.

Snape's cold eyes swept over them both once more, and satisfied that the message had been understood, moved on to write the instructions for a complex potion, on the chalkboard.

----

Harry felt quite bad about Neville's situation until he had a brain-storm. The other boy had been avoiding Harry at every turn. When Harry appeared in the Great Hall for a meal, Neville would either abandon his meal altogether, or shove the food in his mouth, make an excuse and flee the Great Hall as quickly as he could.

Upon contemplating the problem and how to repair their friendship, Harry knew that the only way to make things right was to find Neville someone that could fill the role of father to Neville, even if it was only for one day.

The answer came to Harry one day, when, on his way to speak with Dumbledore, he ran into an old friend, literally. Harry wasn't paying attention to where he was going, until he came in contact with a solid object. He was nearly knocked on his arse, until two strong arms steadied him.

“Remus!” Harry exlaimed in delight.

Remus' warm brown eyes crinkled as he smiled at Harry. “Harry, how are you doing?”

“What are you doing here? I thought- uh, you know, that you couldn't be here because of, uh-” Harry stopped awkwardly.

“Yes well, thanks to Sna-uh, your father's improved Wolfsbane Potion, which allows me to stay coherant for much longer, I've been given approval by the Ministry teach on a part-time basis. If things go well, and I can prove that my lycanthropy poses no danger to the student population, well then, possibly next year, I might be considered to assume the post of Defence once more.”

Harry thought to himself that once Snape found out that his improved Potion was actually responsible for Remus' return to Hogwarts, he would be quite pissed off at himself and regret having made an improved formulation. Rather ironic, wasn't it?

Harry shifted uncomfortably under Remus' gaze, as if the man could read his mind.

“So, how are you holding up?” Remus asked kindly. He knew that the boy must be reeling from all the recent changes in his life.

Harry lowered his eyes. “I'm fine, I guess, but you know it's kind of weird, having Snape, for a, uh-father.”

Remus actually chuckled at that, which put Harry at ease. “Yeah, I guess that it would be.” He put his arms around Harry's shoulders, and gently guided him towards Dumbledore's office.

Harry actually left Dumbledore' office feeling quite satisfied, for once. Remus had agreed to act as a surrogate father to Neville for Father and Son Day, Dumbledore had agreed it was a splendid idea, and Harry hoped that Neville would think it was a brilliant idea as well..

----

As Father and Son Day approached, Harry found himself dreading the day more and more. His stomach was in a constant tumultuous state.

Harry and Severus walked into the Great Hall together that morning. The tables were arranged for the Father and Son Breakfast. An earlier breakfast had been served for those students who were not participating in the event.

The first event of the day was the duelling contest, followed by a Father and Son Quidditch Match.

“Well, well, well Severus,” Lucius drawled. “So I guess what I've heard is true. You're playing father to the Boy-Who-Lived.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “I'm not playing father. I would say that's yourrole, Lucius.

Lucius' eyes flashed dangerously, and he whipped out his wand. Before he could utter a word however, Severus had his wand out as well.

“How about we wait till the contest begins, gentlemen,” an amused voice said from behind them.

“Now shall we lower our wands gentlemen. This is not the message you want to send to your young sons, now is it?” Dumbledore asked, hardening his voice considerably.

Severus had the grace to look ashamed, and pocketed his wand. Lucius, however, resently lowered his wand, before reluctantly placing it in his robes pocket.

“Please take your seats gentlemen, Breakfast is about to be served,” Dumbledore said giving Lucius a pointed look.

Lucius sneered at Harry and Severus. “Come Draco, there will be plenty of time to show these two who are superior.”

Harry clamped his lips shut, and kept his arms rigidly by his side. He itched to take out his wand and hex Malfoy and his father; the hell with waiting for the contest.

Harry and Severus took their places next to Arthur and Ron, and Neville and Remus.

Severus again cursed the Headmaster for co-ercing him into participating in this ridiculous contest, as he was forced to exchange pleasantries with Arthur and Lupin.

Harry had mixed feelings about the whole affair. On one hand, he had originally bucked against being forced into the contest, as he really had no desire to spend time with Snape. Harry had to admit though, that the time spent with his father, had not been such a horrible experience after all. Yes, the man's acerbic tongue could cut like a knife at times, and he wasn't the sort of man to sugar-coat the truth, but Harry found the man to be incredibly gifted at Defence and Harry wasn't lying when he boasted to Malfoy that Snape was an expert duellest, and Harry had found that the books that Snape had set him to read and the spells that he had been forced to learn had been fascinating.

Okay, so Snape's bedside manner, left much to be desired, but Harry had to admit grudgingly that he had begun to respect the man. And incredibily, Snape had a sense of humour, if one took the time to understand it. Yes, it was a rather dry, sarcastic humour, hidden in subtle nuances, but Harry had spent so much time with Snape that he'd begun to recognize it.

“Gentlemen,” Dumbledore's booming voice resounded throughout the Great Hall, silencing the chattering fathers and sons. “Welcome to Hogwarts first Father and Son Day. I want to thank all of you for taking the time to participate. The bond between father and son is a very special one,” Dumbledore began. “Whether you have known each other all your life-” His eyes scanned over Ron and Arthur, and Lucius and Draco, “-or have recently discovered each other.” He paused, sending a meaningful look at Harry and Severus. “Whether you are father and son in the biological sense, or -” His eyes twinkled as he looked at Remus and Neville, “or two people who've developed a special bond, my goal this day is to offer you each a chance to spend time together and interact with each other father and sons, and have a little friendly competition.”

Harry looked over to the next table, and wanted to vomit when he saw the arrogant determination on Lucius and Draco's face. Harry couldn't help the rush of fury and indignation either when he saw Crabbe, Goyle and Nott sitting there as though it was a tea party, but all Harry could see was those garish faces behind their Death Eater masks, and those cold, cruel eyes watching as he was being mercilessly tortured by Voldemort.

Dumbledore interrupted his reverie. “Well I bid you all a good day, and I ask you all to keep in mind the friendly spirit of the competition.”

----

Harry and Snape stood on one end of the platform, and Draco and Lucius on the other.

“Gentlemen, Let me remind you of the rules. We don't want any serious injuries here, so Unforgiveables are forbidden, and you will all be expected to follow the rules of accepted good sportsmanship, and decorum.” He gave an extra stern look to Lucius and Draco. “Cheating will not be tolerated.”

“First up will be Harry Potter and Severus Snape competing against Lucius and Draco Malfoy."

Harry took a peek at Snape, and couldn't read the blank expression, but suddenly he nodded to Harry and some of the nervous tension that Harry was feeling relaxed somewhat.

Harry realised that although Snape was not overtly affectionate or expressive, he nevertheless felt comforted by the man's strong presence, and Harry was very surprised by this. He had never thought of Snape as a man who could offer comfort.

“Gentlemen, wands at the ready, and take a bow,” Dumbledore interrupted his reverie.

Well...it's now or never, Harry thought nervously, as his stomach churned anxiously. Harry wasn't sure why a duel against the Malfoys could evoke such strong emotion when he'd fought the Dark Lord with less trepidation, but perhaps it as because Snape was beside him this time and he wanted to make the man proud. Harry suddenly realised the irony of it all. He wanted to make Snape proud. The same git who'd made his life miserable for the past three and a half years. Now he wanted the man's approval? Life was strange sometimes.

Draco threw the first hex before Harry had a chance to catch his breath, but fortunately for Harry, he'd had enough experience in defending himself under the most dire circumstances, that he deflected the Bat Bogey Hex, without batting an eyelid. Harry felt a rush of warmth when Snape nodded his head at him.

Before Harry had a chance to appreciate the support however, another curse came hurtling towards him. And this one he was not quite so lucky as to deflect. Harry legs suddenly felt like jello as they caved beneath him. Aw crap, he thought. His face flamed; he couldn't believe that he'd allowed himself to be hit with a jelly-legs curse.

Draco smirked at him. “Not so confident now, are we, Potter?”

Before Draco could gloat, however, Harry yelled out with a swish of his wand, “Recumptsemptra”, and Draco dropped to the floor, convulsing with laughter, and tears rolling down his pale cheeks.

It was Harry's turn to smirk at Draco. “What were you saying?”

“Pu-lee-ee-ze Po-po-tt-ter,” make it stopped the blond boy begged.

“Only if you cancel this,” Harry said as he poked at his rubber-like leg.

Draco clutched at his stomach, which was beginning to ache as he writhed and jerked on the duelling platform.

“F-fi-fine,” he spurt out between rolls of laughter. He flicked his wand jerkily, and stuttered a, “Fininte incantatum.”

When the bones in his legs grew solid once more, Harry whispered the counter spell as well, and Malfoy wiped the tears from his flushed face with the sleeve of his arm.

Before Harry had a chance to recover his equilibrium, Malfoy yelled an Expelliarmus, and knocked Harry's wand from his hand. Harry searched for his wand while trying to duck the steady stream of curses that Malfoy was sending his way.

Damn, there it is, thought Harry. It was right behind Snape who was busy dodging his own spells from Lucius. Harry was a bit disoncerted to realise that they were pretty evenly matched, although he still had faith that Snape would prevail. Just as Harry went to grab for his wand, however, two things happened at once. Snape jerked backwards to avoid a bolt of red light coming from the elder Malfoy's wand, tripped backwards onto Harry as he was grappling for his wand, which was right behind Snape's boot by this point. As Snape fell backwards onto Harry, he felt the air squeezed out of him like an accordian.

Harry must have passed out for a few seconds, because when he reopened his eyes, he and Snape were tied together with long silver ropes, and both Malfoys were standing over them, arms crossed, with twin smirks on their faces.

“Well, it would seem that we have our winners,” Dumbledore announced cheerily.

He held out a hand to Lucius, who snubbed him, and said haughtily, “There was no competition afterall.”

“Yes, how disappointing Father,” Draco drawled.

Harry huffed in frustration. Snape glared at him, as if to say, this is all your fault.

It was so humiliating to sit there hog-tied, while Lucius and Draco received their medals, and sauntered off to hob-nob with the other Death Eaters, looking back at Harry and Severus with gloating smiles. Suddenly, Harry panicked. Hey! What the hell? Wasn't anyone going to untie them?

Luckily Dumbledore took pity on them and removed the ropes.

Severus picked himself up on the ground, and immediately rounded on Harry.

“What the hell were you thinking, you idiot-boy?” he bellowed so loudly that his voice resounded throughout the Great Hall. Everyone turned to look at them.

Harry flushed in embarassment. “I'm sorry, I-”

“You're sorry?” Snape asked incredulously. “Why the hell did you throw yourself in back of me like that, you imbecile.”

Harry bristled at the insult. It was like the hands of time had been turned back, and Snape had turned back into the slimy git of the dungeons again.

Harry clenched his fists. “Draco knocked my wand out of my hand, I was trying to get it back,” he explained angrily.

Snape arched an eyebrow. “So you threw yourself in back of me. Where the hell is your brain boy? You've cost us the contest by your utter stupidity!”

Harry had had enough. “Go to hell, Snape. You can shove your damned contest up your arse, for all I care. I quit!” Harry stomped off towards the Tower, intending to get as far away as possible from his father.

Severus flinched under the disapproving look that Albus sent his way.

“Don't look at me that way Albus,” Severus said in exasperation.

Albus narrowed his eyes. “I didn't say a word, Severus. Perhaps it is your own conscience that speaks to you,” he said knowingly.

Severus rolled his eyes. “Of course it is Albus.”

----

As he entered the Gryffindor Common Room, Severus shuddered at the Gryffindor colours that assaulted his senses. Trust him to end up with a son who was Gryffindor!

Severus heard sniffling behind the maroon curtains of the four-poster bed in front of him. He took a deep breath and slowly pulled the curtains back to reveal Harry lying with his back to Severus, his fragile frame trembling. Severus gently turned him over. Harry's face was wet with tears. Severus pulled out a handerkerchief from his robes pocket. He handed it to Harry.

Harry threw it back at him, and wiped his snotty nose with his sleeve. Severus grimaced.

“Harry,” he murmered softly.

Harry looked up at him through watery eyes. “What do you want?” he muttered.

Severus took a deep breath. He really wasn't good at this sort of thing. He didn't know how to apologise. Frankly, he wasn't accustomed to admitting he was wrong. Actually, he very rarely was wrong, he thought arrogantly.

Severus cleared his throat. “I'm so-so-sorry,” he finally spit out.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. Snape was admitting he was wrong? Snape was saying that he was sorry? Harry had the urge to take a peek outside to see if there were any pigs flying around.

“I realise that I may have been a little over zealous, and over-reacted somewhat,” Severus admitted grudgingly.

Harry raised his eyebrows as if to say You think?

“Harry, what I'm trying to say is that perhaps I took this contest a little too seriously, and lost sight of what is really important,” Severus said slowly.

“And what is really important?” Harry asked in a small voice, afraid, yet hopeful to hear the answer.

Oh Merlin, this was harder than Severus had imagined. He took a deep breath. “No one is more important to me than you are Harry.”

Harry's jaw dropped.

“I regret my earlier outburst, and if you will forgive me (Oh there was that word again), I would be honoured if you would return downstairs with me.”

Severus smirked. “After all, we still have an opportunity to put Lucius and Draco in their place. If I do recall,” he put his finger to his temple, “ there are still several competitions left today, including a father and son Quidditch match.”

Harry quirked his lips. “You play Quidditch?”

“I'll have you know that I was no slouch on the Quidditch pitch, young man,” he said in mock sternness.

“Really?” Harry asked disbelievingly. “What position did you play?

Severus smirked. “I was a pretty mean seeker in my day.”

Harry's eye grew wide. “You were a seeker too?” Harry shook his head. He'd always thought that he had inherited his Quidditch talent from James, and then when he had discovered his true parentage, he had wondered just where his interest in Quidditch had come from. Harry had suffered a great identity crisis since he had found out that Snape was his father. He'd felt lost, as if he didn't feel like he'd known who he was anymore. At Snape's words though, he felt a sudden sense of belonging and soothed at the thought that he'd inherited his love of Quidditch from Snape.

On the other hand, he also liked the thought that his adopted father who had laid his life down for him, had also loved the game. Harry felt incredibly fortunate that he had so many people in his life that cared about him. Sirius had taken the news that he was Snape's son hard at first, but he had made it very clear that he cared about Harry for who he was and not about whose son he was. And although Harry knew that Snape and Sirius would never be friends, and probably neither would forgive the other, he hoped that one day, that two of the most important people that he cared about, could possibly at least tolerate each other, if nothing else.

Harry still felt a stab of disappointment that he had not been allowed to get to know Sirius better, and that he'd had to go back to the Dursleys, even for a short time, but the revelation of finding out that Snape was his father, had turned out better than Harry had ever imagined. The man may be prickley and cold at times, but Harry was glad that he'd given Snape a chance, and taken the time to get to know the man beneath the hard exterior, because now Harry had a father, had a family.

“Well, I actually played several positions, but I was most proficient as seeker, and to be honest, it was my preferred position,” he admitted.

“So,” Harry said playfully, “We're gonna kick the Malfoy's arses?”

“Language!” Severus reprimanded.

Despite Snape's sudden return to sternness, Harry couldn't help but smile. He felt like everything was right with the world. He had a father; okay, so a father who could be a right git at times, but still...he had a father!

Severus patted Harry’s leg. “Enough wallowing in self-pity, Potter; we have a Quidditch game to win. Go wash up, and meet me downstairs.” He pulled out his stopwatch. “You have exactly fifteen minutes, or I will come back and levitate you downstairs,” he said with a small smirk.

Harry, having no doubt that his father would follow through on his threat, immediately jumped off the bed, replying: “Yes sir.”