1994 

When the sun rose, and light came shyly trickling into the little room, it found Harry already awake, and staring into his mirror. The face that he saw when he stared was a face that was still new to him. The long, lean shape, the straight, black hair, the longer nose, the higher cheekbones…he was not the same person anymore. This person that was looking at him in the mirror was a Snape. This person…did not feel like him.

Harry Potter was dead. The whole world would soon know that there was no more Harry Potter. What would happen then? His whole life, everything he had believed about himself was different. He was not the same person. The person he had been was finally all gone. Everyone he cared about thought he was dead, and there was nothing he could do about it.

When the sun began to rise over the earth, there came a knock at the door. Without looking away from his reflection, Harry answered a soft, “Come in.”

In the back, he could see a black shadow silently slip into the room and walk over to him. Harry suddenly felt cold, as though the shadow of his father was something to be feared. It chilled his heart. But Snape had not been oppressive, and merely sat down quietly at the end of his son’s bed, which had not been slept in.

There was silence before Harry finally began to speak. “You didn’t even tell them that I was alive.” There was accusation and bitterness in his voice, the new voice that still sounded a bit strange to him at times. It had recently begun to change into something deeper.

“I did not,” came the baritone reply.

Scowling, Harry found that he was angry with his reflection for looking so much like Snape. How dare it be so different from the face that he had known, that everyone else had known! “You should have told them that I was alive!”

“What point would that have served?” the Potions Master’s voice was quiet.

Spinning around at last, Harry’s lip curled in disgust. “You want everyone to think I’m dead?” he accused. “You want to keep me hidden away from everyone! You want me to sit here and rot with no company but you!”

There was a moment when the Potions Master’s eyes flashed with a furious light, making Harry flinch and he was truly sorry he had spoken so harshly and disrespectfully, but for some reason, the sharp tongue lashing did not occur. He looked back up to see his father scowling more fiercely than he had been, but otherwise, the master wizard did not make any moves, nor did he say a word. The onyx eyes continued to burn, and Harry found that he was afraid. Severus Snape, former Death Eater, distinguished professor, dueling master, member of the Order of the Phoenix, was something to be feared.

“If that is how you feel,” Severus’s voice rumbled quietly after a moment of silence, “I can always take you back to the Dursleys…or I could send you to the Weasleys, if you prefer.”

Shocked, the offer was the last thing Harry had expected from his father. He would have thought that the older wizard would have yelled at him about how it was not true, or that Harry was being an ungrateful brat. This new Snape, this one that was being kind, was throwing Harry off. He did not know what to expect from the Potions Master anymore. Staring into the black eyes again, the fourteen year old saw something there that he had missed the last time.

Sadness.

Harry began shaking his head, not able to really express what he was feeling. “I will take you anywhere you want, Harry,” Severus went on, surprising the young wizard further. “You do not have to stay here. I can replace your charm and you can go back to being Harry…Potter, again,” his face contorted in disgust at the name of his rival.

It was a sacrifice, and Harry knew it. Despite Harry’s own cruelties, the boy could see that his father was hurt, and he realized that Severus had been trying his very best. It had always been Harry that had lashed out lately, not Snape. It was an eye opening revelation to make since Harry had been used to the other wizard always treating him unfairly and being the offender for the past three years.

“You would give me up?” he asked, his voice constricted.

Looking deep into the green eyes he loved so much, for just a brief moment, Severus saw Lily’s face there, not his son’s. “I would,” he nodded slowly. “If that’s what you wanted. I would do anything…”

Tears blurring his vision, Harry stood up, and without thinking, launched himself into his father’s arms. Taken by surprise, Severus caught the boy and instinctively held him to his chest, just like he had done for Lily years ago when she had been confused and hurt. It was only after a moment that his brain began to think clearly once more and he relaxed, still holding his son close. He closed his eyes as his own emotions were breaking to the surface.

“I’m sorry!” Harry cried. “I didn’t mean to say it; I don’t know why I said it; any of it! Don’t send me away.”

“I’m not going to send you away,” Severus said gently. He had only ever been called to comfort a distraught person once, and it broke his heart to think of Lily then when he held her son. “I’d never send you away, not unless you wanted it.”

“I don’t want to go,” the child’s voice was muffled in his father’s chest. “I want to stay with you.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” the father crooned softly.

Harry’s weeping grew after a moment as all of his tension was being released, and his father began rubbing comforting circles on his back. “I don’t want everyone to think I’m dead,” the boy sobbed helplessly.

Closing his eyes against the pain that stabbed his own heart, Severus began to rock back and forth. He tightened his hold around the boy, as though afraid that if he let go or loosened his grip, the boy might vanish. For the first time in years, Severus had hope, hope for himself, hope for a happiness he never dreamed he could ever have. He had thought his life, his happiness, his future had died with Lily, but it lived on in their son. And Severus was determined to protect his child until his dying breath from Death Eaters, the Dark Lord, and even Dumbledore.

“Hush now,” the Potions Master commanded gently.

“But they think I’m dead! They all think I’m dead!” Harry groaned, clinging impossibly closer to his father, as through trying to ring out every ounce of comfort the man could give.

Running a hand through the silky raven hair so very much like his own, Severus did everything he could think of to calm the boy. “Harry, I know you are distressed with the thought, but can you not see that this could be a blessing?”

“What?” the boy detached himself from Severus so fast, that the older wizard had to fight to keep his balance. “How could this be a good thing- a blessing?”

Recomposing his face, while mourning the loss of contact, Severus looked at his son evenly. “Harry, I know this is hard, but think about it; no one’s hunting you. Dumbledore will not come looking for you, will not bother to search, and the Death Eaters will more than likely believe that the Headmaster removed you from the Dursleys himself. It really is perfect. No one is looking for us, son. They will not come.”

“But my friends all think I’m dead!” Harry cried. “I can’t imagine what they must be thinking right now. They’re probably sick right now.”

Recalling Lily’s journal, Severus began to feel ill himself. Lily had been pushed to extremes when she thought he had died. But that was different, was it not? When Lily and Severus had been separated they had had a manipulator plotting their paths. With Harry, there was no one that was going to force him to do anything, no one to separate him from those he loved. With Harry’s death, no one would end up in pain too long…

“Yes, but think of it, Harry,” Severus willed his son to see his side. “There is less than a month before the next school term before you can see them face to face again. And then-”

“Keep them waiting that long!” Harry looked as though he were going to scream again with frustration.

“But listen to me,” Severus held his son’s eyes and, with some light magic that some might claim to be mind control, he was able to calm his son enough so that Harry sat back down to listen. “Anyone who is smart will figure out that you are not dead, Harry.”

Frowning, Harry looked into his father’s eyes again, tears were still sliding out of his eyes, but he did not waver. “How?” he asked.

Knowing that he had been able to grab the boy’s interest, Severus took advantage of the situation and gazed back at his son coolly. “Death Eaters are not known for their subtleties in victory, Harry,” his voice was calming. “If they had managed to kill you, they would have let the Headmaster know by now. The Wizarding world would have known by now. But since they know that you are not dead, they have nothing to boast. If Dumbledore,” he sneered at the name, “would but open his eyes, he would be able to see that something is out of place.”

Calming, even though he really wanted to scream, Harry took several deep breaths. “So…what you’re saying is that Ron and Hermione could still figure out I’m a live?”

“Essentially,” Severus nodded. “Although I must admit I am not sure they would figure it out before the Headmaster.”

“But they still have to think I’m dead,” Harry looked away, the bitterness of the situation still written on his face.

Taking a silent breath, Severus tried to occlude his mind once more. “Harry, in times such as these, heartache is common place. Many people have gone through the pain and horror of losing someone close to them. But they do not scorn that person when it is revealed that they are alive. Think of yourself as missing in action,” the Potions Master knew he was probably not being very comforting, but he willed his son to understand. He had never been particularly good with comforting anyway. “Those that do go missing know that their families and friends will be told that they are dead, but they wait for the day when they can reveal to everyone that they are not and rejoice in that day. Wait, Harry. Have patience and wait.”

“You don’t know how it feels,” the boy muttered darkly, not thinking of anything but his own pains.

 Severus froze.

Oh, he knew what it was like to have everyone think that you’re dead. He had been “dead” to the world for a very long time. Before he had been married to Lily, half the Wizarding world thought that he was missing, not knowing really what had become of the young man. And after Dumbledore separated him and his wife, everyone believed that he was gone. It had been hard to detach himself from the world, but he had done it. For over a year he had hidden away while the world carried on without him. Lily had had to carry on without him…

“I know more than you might think,” he could not keep the acrimony from leaking into his voice. That’s when Harry looked up, realizing his mistake.

“I-I’m sorry, I-” he stuttered.

“I was dead for over a year,” the wizard looked out into space, seeing a different time and place. “And when I could come out of it, I was dead inside…” he faded out before blinking several times, realizing he had been speaking out loud, and had spoken too much.

Knowing that his father was remembering his mother, Harry could not help but feel sorry for the older wizard. His father had really loved Lily, of that; there was no doubt in Harry’s mind. Carefully, he placed his hand on his father’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologized again, hoping that his apology would reflect his true contrition.  

Looking up at his son’s sad green eyes, Severus felt a strange mix between wanting to cry and wanting to smile. He opted to simply occlude his mind once more. He had never been good at revealing his true emotions, and he had been alone and spying for so long, it was difficult to not simply keep things to himself. In his line of work, both spying and teaching, it was a dangerous thing to show what you really felt.

“There is nothing to be sorry for,” he stood up, straightening his shirt. “Perhaps we can figure something out before school.”

“Really?” Harry’s eyes glittered with hope.

Again, feeling slightly uncomfortable, Severus nodded. “Perhaps,” he relented, “but now I think it’s time for an early breakfast. Would you care to help me?”

Giving a shy grin, Harry nodded and the two wizards left the room. It remained unknown to Harry that his rushed embrace has warmed his father’s hard, cold heart. And he could have never imagined how loathed his father had been to let him go.

*****

The next day was much the same as it had been for the past several, only Harry was getting depressed, knowing that his friends were out there believing that he was dead. Eating breakfast, Severus noted his son’s behavior and frowned. He had thought Harry had gotten better after yesterday’s initial shock had worn off. He had allowed Harry to study only half an hour and had not made him work on any of his essays. The boy had spent most of his time yesterday either in his room or reading, as Severus had thought that he should let the boy adjust to recent events. Maybe he should intervene to make sure that the child did not fall into a deeper depression?

As they washed dishes together, Severus kept an eye on his son. Harry was moving a bit sluggishly and did not seem to be moving quite as gracefully as he usually did.  What could he do to help the boy? Surely Harry saw the need to keep low for a while? He had explained everything so clearly.

When the dishes were all dried and put away, Severus decided that he would spend some time on potion making, as he had done the day before when Harry had decided to stay in his room. That’s when an idea struck him, one that he regretted thinking about, but nevertheless decided to act upon. After all, his son’s mental health was more important than his own sanity. Right?

“I’m going to go down into the basement and work on some potions,” the Potions Master let his voice sound careless and indifferent. As expected, that grabbed his son’s attention.

“Really? You have a potions lab here?” Harry frowned at his father. He had not thought about his father making potions over the summer. But what else would the Potions Master do in his spare time?

“Yes, of course I have a lab,” Snape let a slight sneer grace his face before he quickly banished it, remembering that sneers and harsh words did not go very far with Harry. The boy was so sensitive. He obviously got that from Lily. “I do not think I could go almost a whole month without brewing something. What did you think I did yesterday?”

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged. “I guess I just thought that you were reading or something.”

“Hm,” Snape said before turning around and heading for the stairs that led to the basement. He scowled at the steps before stopping. “I will be working for several hours at least,” Severus called back, but lingered, hoping he knew his son’s Gryffindor side well enough. If Harry was really like Lily…

“Hours?” the boy frowned. “Well…um…have fun with that, I guess.” Snape waited patiently for another moment. “But, uh, sir?”

Got you, Severus grinned slyly.

“Yes, Harry?” he turned back around, his face almost completely blank, with the exception of a faint frown of annoyance. He had to play his part, after all. He had to make sure Harry thought he had thought of this idea himself.

“I was just wondering…” the boy trailed off. “Do you…do you want any help? Sir?”

Pausing, as though really thinking about the request, Severus nodded. “I suppose you may help,” he said evenly. “As long as you do not interfere with my work.”

Harry said nothing about this, but grinned and ran over to his father and looked up at the older man with shining eyes. “I won’t,” he declared boldly before turning to run down the stairs.

“Don’t you dare fall!” Severus barked, gripping the stair railing tightly. How could anyone just simply run down the stairs like that? Did the boy want to break his neck? “Merlin, give me strength,” Severus mumbled under his breath.

Once down as well, he noticed that Harry gave him an odd look, but he ignored it in pursuit of sweeping past the boy and over to his simmering cauldron. He looked into the pinkish liquid and smelled it. It seemed as though it was all going well. From his notes from his experiments, he thought it was all going fairly well. But, unfortunately, the only way that he would know would be to test it to make sure.

Just then, he heard a loud crash come from behind him. Spinning around, Severus saw a very surprised looking Harry, with his hands reaching out into the open air, and a large quantity of potion bottles and vials lying smashed on the floor. The two sets of eyes locked.

“Clumsy boy!” Snape spat as he looked at all of his expensive equipment lying in shards on the floor. How could he have forgotten that Harry was bad with potions? Merlin, the kid was almost as bad as Longbottom! Not in the lab a minute, and already Harry had managed to break something. Why had he even thought to bring Harry along down here? The boy was like a bull in a china shop! Harry was still getting use to his longer limbs and body structure, after all. Not a good combination with breakables and potential explosives.

“I’m sorry!” Harry’s eyes were wide as he stared at his father, who was charging forward to inspect the mess. “I-I really don’t know how that just happened.”

Scowling blackly, Severus pushed the boy out of his way and took out his wand. He waved it over the broken glass and within seconds, the beakers and vials were repaired and up on the counter once more. “Be careful!” he hissed, watching as the child shrank in fear.

“I’m sorry,” Harry shrank back in fear and misery.  

His anger having been deflated, Severus stared down at the black head before him. Wasn’t the whole reason for bringing Harry down here to make him feel better? Merlin, and here Severus had made him feel worse! What was wrong with him? Why did he have to be born with such a short temper? It really was inconvenient at times. Taking a deep breath, Severus counted backwards from ten.

“It’s alright, Harry,” he said, but was unable to keep all the exasperation out of his voice. “Everything is fixed now. Just be more careful.”

Looking up in surprise, Harry was actually shocked that that was the end of it. A moment ago he had seen the old Snape, the Potions Master, the man that he had hated and dreaded for three years. But now it was over, and Snape was no longer the Snape he had been so use to, but his father again. A man with a surprisingly calm veneer.

But honestly; that was it? Had they been at school, the man probably would have been screaming and yelling at him about his clumsiness and then taken points from his house or something. But since they were not at school, Harry waited for the older wizard to start sneering at him and telling him that he had to go scrub out some cauldrons or something terrible like that. He just knew this all had to be fake, and now Snape was going to snap out of whatever dream he’d been in and was going to be the mean wizard Harry had known before.

Luckily for Harry, that was not the case at all. Severus really had no intention of punishing his son. At least not for this. He could just hear Lily’s voice inside his mind, “Accidents happen.” She was always the calm one despite her fiery red hair. How he missed running his hands through the soft waves of crimson…

“Harry,” Severus snapped himself out of his musing. They hurt after thinking on them too long. “Come over here.”

This was is, his father was going to punish him, say something scathing. But his father had been very good to him for over a week. Snape had been surprisingly patient, kind, caring, respectful, he had given Harry a home, a room, new clothes, and even spent time with Harry. Why then was it so easy for Harry to assume the worst in his father? Was it really that simple? He began to feel guilty for thinking so terribly of his father.

“If you’re going to stay down here, you might as well be useful,” Severus tried hard not to sigh. He did not know how this was going to work exactly since Harry was not so good with potions. But that made Severus all the more determined. It would simply not do to have the boy be inadequate in potions. Both Severus and Lily had been very good at it, and the new father was determined that his son would at least pass the class with decent marks.

Sitting down on a stool close to where his father was standing, Harry waited for instructions. It was not that he did not like potions per say, it was that he did not like making potions in front of Snape. The Potions Master was actually quite intimidating, even if he did not mean to be…but Harry thought that his father meant to be almost all the time. The man was just brilliant at intimidation.

“Hand me that jar,” Severus ordered as he slipped into his ‘potions making mode’ as Lily use to call it. She always said he acted a little bit differently while brewing, but honestly, Severus never did see it. All he knew was that making potions was very calming and relaxing for him.

As Severus began his brewing, Harry watched his father in jealous awe. His father moved so gracefully around the cauldron. There was a rhythm to the way he chopped or diced or mashed each ingredient masterfully. It seemed as though the man could not make an error even if he would try. Why was it that he could be so good at this, and Harry could barely master a simple calming draught? It really wasn’t fair.

After about ten minutes of working, Severus came out of the fog of potions making to remember that Harry was still in the room, sitting on the stool before him. If he had been much younger and less trained, Severus might have blushed, but after hard years of concealing everything that he really felt, the Potions Master, instead, cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. “Would you stir this for me while I begin another potions?” he asked, trying to think of something that the boy wouldn’t mess up too badly. This particular potion did not have to be stirred as precisely as some others did.

Immediately, Severus knew he had done right when his son’s eyes glowed in pleasure. “Sure,” Harry hopped off the stool. “How do I do it?”

“The instructions are to stir left five times then right five, repeat and then stir twelve times to the left before you go through the cycle again,” the Potions Master said. It really was not all that difficult.

“Um…okay,” Harry said, frowning slightly. “Where’s the book, just so I can look at it.”

Severus’s eyebrow shot up in question, but he managed to bit back the sarcasm that threatened to spew out of his mouth. “I do not use books for simple potions such as this,” he stated flatly, as he was sure he’d regret his tone later if he tried to use any emotion whatsoever.

Blushing, Harry looked down at the boiling potion. “Right,” he said quietly. “Sorry. Five left, five right, repeat, twelve left, and then repeat the whole thing?” he asked.

“I don’t see why you wanted a book, Harry, you seem to have understood me perfectly,” Severus stated as he swept off to another table to begin working.

As he began chopping, Severus caught the shy smile that lit his son’s face.  He really wondered at it. It was too bad he did not understand what his small compliment meant to his son. But Harry took his father’s confidence and worked hard to keep a steady stirring rhythm and not disappoint the older man.

From that day on, the two Snape’s worked together in the lab. Severus instructed his son in the ways of potion making, critiquing his style and his methods, usually without too much snark, while Harry did his best to learn and accept his father’s help without getting too frustrated.

It was odd at first, but soon Harry fell into a sort of rhythm, working on chores, homework, and potion making with his father. It was strange to think that he actually enjoyed and looked forward to his potions lesson each day with his father, and likewise, Severus also seemed to enjoy his time with his son…most of the time, although there were a few cases where he got frustrated. But it became apparent that Harry was learning the finer points of potion making, and soon, his talent showed through. Just thinking about it made Severus grin. Harry was a potions man, he had just not taken the time to focus on it.

Severus watched his son one night as Harry was making a rather difficult potion on his own, being as precise and as careful as he could with each ingredient and tool. A proud smile formed on the Potions Master’s face. “He’s one of us, Lily, he’s one of us.”