1979

Out of the gloom of night, a lone figure appeared along the fringes of the Forbidden Forest. He stood tall, robed in black, blacker than the dreary night. Rain poured down in raging rebellion against the earth, but the wizard simply walked up the hill towards his goal; Hogwarts Castle, gliding onward through the oppressive tempest.

Entering the ancient castle, the wizard removed his cowl readily, looking about his surroundings more from habit than any real concern of danger. It truly was a difficult habit to break, one he was not sure he would ever dispel, and one he was grateful for acquiring. It had saved him quite frequently.

Silently, the young wizard walked along the familiar halls of his old school. His thick black cloak billowed behind him like great wings, giving him the illusion of flight. It appeared as though he was some sort of vampire, a giant bat, but others could argue his smooth rapid pace was more graceful than that of a bat. It truly made no difference what anyone thought about him as he did not much care.

Stalking over to the gargoyles that stood watch, he muttered, “Lemon drops.” His deep voice resonated off the stone from his request. He was kept waiting only a moment as the gargoyles leap out of his way to reveal the secret passageway leading to the Headmaster’s office. Without hesitation, the young wizard entered through the doorway and climbed up the moving stairs.

The doors at the top of the opened wide for him and he stepped through into the office of the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Without any further invitation, the younger wizard glided in, and ceased his neck-breaking pace to stand calmly behind one of the Headmaster’s plush chairs, hands firmly clasped behind his back, face relaxed.

“Severus, my dear boy!” the Headmaster cried when he saw the other wizard.

“Professor,” Severus Snape nodded to his former teacher.

The old wizard chuckled lightly as he moved to sit behind his desk. “Now, now Severus, did I not tell you before? You may call me Albus.”

“Yes, Headmaster,” the other replied flatly, yet with a firmness that told of no tolerance to argue the point further.

Chuckling again, Dumbledore sat and motioned for the younger wizard to do the same. Severus remained standing. “So,” Albus began, “what news do you have for me?”

“Very great news indeed,” Snape spoke softly, but with heat, knowing he would be heard.

“Oh?” the Headmaster arched an eyebrow, gesturing once more for the other wizard to be seated. “And what news of Voldemort do you have for me?”

Ignoring the Headmaster’s offer to sit again, Severus merely shook his head. “It is not about the Dark Lord,” his voice remained calm, his face blank.

“Then what is this about?” Dumbledore looked over his spy with slight suspicion. The boy had turn coat once, would he do it again and be, as the Americans called it, a Benedict Arnold?

“I shall not play games with you,” Severus’s voice took on a cold hardness as though accusing the Headmaster of such a crime, which was not far from the truth. “I am afraid I will not be able to spend as much of my time spying and planning with you.”

Shocked by the boy’s complete candor, but unwilling to look weak in the presence of the powerful young wizard, Albus only raised a curious eyebrow at the boy. “Oh?” he asked questioningly. “And you have a reason for this, yes?”

“Indeed,” Severus seemed unfazed by Dumbledore’s sudden change in demeanor. “Lily and I are recently married,” the spy ignored his mentor’s flabbergasted face. “We have been for several months now and I do not believe I should get anymore entangled with the Order than I already am.”

Mouth agape, Albus tried desperately to find his voice. “You’re married to Lily?” he could not help but gawk for the moment. “Are you the one that ruined her relationship with James and broke their engagement?”

Although his expression remained relaxed, it was stretched. Severus’s hands balled into fists at his sides at the accusation. How dare Dumbledore accuse him of such a thing? “No,” he said bitingly. “James ruined his chance with Lily and she was the one that broke off their engagement.”

“Did your help influence her?” the Headmaster eyed the younger man before him suspiciously. It was not beneath Severus to try something of the sort.

“I did not use magic or potion on her if that’s what you mean,” Severus growled, a scowl now clearly written on his features. “I did, however, talk to her about her relationship reguarding James and she was miserable with him. She told me so. She expressed her…interest in me and I in her and then we married.”

“But how?” Albus was unnerved by the fact that Severus had so easily outwitted him and hid all this information from him. “I have spies everywhere and they would have reported-”

“To put your mind at ease,” Snape cut in snidely, “we married in a Muggle church, the same one we both attended in our youth in a Muggle neighborhood.”

The Headmaster stared at the young wizard for a long moment, frown set perfectly in place. “You were sorted into the correct house, no doubt about that,” he muttered under his breath. “But Severus, my boy, I need you.”

“I will still be a spy for you. That is unavoidable, and part of our agreement; however, I do not want to be your disposable commodity,” Severus said seriously, making Dumbledore increasingly uncomfortable. “I want a chance to be able to come out of this war alive, with a wife waiting for me.”

“And what if you don’t?” Dumbledore challenged. “What then? You’ll leave Lily behind, or worse, Lily carrying a child?” The younger wizard blanched.

“You can do nothing to stop me in this,” Severus scowled as he crossed his arms over his chest, trying hard not to show how much the Headmaster‘s words frightened him. “Lily and I are married and God willing, we’re going to start a family when this is over.”

The Headmaster straightened his features into a calm instantly, alerting Snape that the old man was going to try something. “You need to end your marriage, Severus,” he said solemnly.

“I beg your pardon?” the spy blinked several times, unsure of what he had just heard.

Standing up with a great sigh, feeling ever single one of his many years, Albus looked upon the hard, slightly hurt, features of Severus. He hated to do this to the boy, but the needs of the many truly did outweigh the needs of the few… or the one. “I need you Severus,” Dumbledore repeated. “I can’t have you being distracted by anyone or anything.”

“Lily will not distract me,” Severus hissed. “If anything, she’ll keep me focused on what I must-”

“Severus, please!” Dumbledore cut in crossly. “You need to think about everyone’s wellbeing and not just your own.” Severus growled low in his throat and was about to argue when Albus continued. “Think about the Order and the Muggles! Think about what you have put James through!”

Very slowly, as Dumbledore’s words hung in the air, Severus’s face began to contort into a vicious glower. “So,” his voice was quiet, but held icy bitterness that stopped the heart. “This is all about Potter, isn’t it?” he sneered half heartedly. “You’re only angry with me because Potter didn’t get Lily, and she married me instead, that she loves me and not Potter.” He turned away resentfully. “You just can’t stand the fact that your beloved Golden-Gryffindor-Boy lost out to someone else, that someone being me.”

Sighing again, Albus knew he could not completely deny Severus’s claim. He did love James, and he had hoped Lily really would someday fall in love with the Gryffindor, but it never happened. And now she and Severus snuck around his back and married. Alas! Poor James! The man had cried when Lily broke their engagement. How terrible would James feel once he learned that Lily had married the one man he hated more than Voldemort?

“Severus,” Albus tried to reach out. “My boy, I need you. The whole United Kingdom needs you. Don’t turn your back on her.”

“Spare me your patriotic idiocy,” he snapped. “You would have me turn my back on Lily! But the fact remains that Lily and I are married and I will be happy with her, despite your meddling to make me otherwise.” With a flip of his cap, Severus turned on his heels to leave, only to watch as all the doors slammed shut. His stomach flipped.

“I cannot allow you to leave like this,” Dumbledore said as the young wizard turned around to face him.

“Let me go,” Snape hissed threateningly.

“I am sorry my boy,” Albus almost looked sincere as he drew out his wand from his sleeve. “But I have a job for you.”

Panic surged through the young wizard as he realized what Dumbledore, the man that was supposed to be his mentor, his friend, was doing. Responding in kind, Severus tried to pull out his own wand, but did not quite make it. The moment his wand was in his hand, the Headmaster cast a disarming spell so powerful that it knocked Snape against the far wall, his head slamming into a picture, instantly shattering the glass. Blood trickled down steadily from his head and onto his cloak.

Gasping in surprised pain, Severus watched with unfocused eyes as Dumbledore advanced. “I am sorry my boy,” Albus’s voice rang unusually loud. “But I need to do this. For the good of the people.”

As his eyes focused, Severus realized he had slumped to the floor. When he looked up, he watched with horror as the Headmaster’s wand was pointing to his head. “No,” he whispered a soft plea.

“I am sorry,” Albus said once more, but Severus could not believe him.

The Elder Wand shot out a blinding bolt of light, filling the room, affecting everyone and everything within the room with the exception of the caster. Severus simply had no time as his world was swiftly fading into confusion. His last thoughts were those of betrayal, bitterness, and regret.

“Lily!” he cried before he fell to the floor, memory of the past six month completely gone.

*****

The next morning, Lily woke to find herself sprawled out in the middle of the bed. Sitting up rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she looked over at the clock groggily. It was only quarter after five in the morning, much too early for sane people to be awake. But as she looked around the room, she realized that her husband was nowhere to be found. His cloak was still missing.

Jumping out of bed, Lily wrapped her robe securely around her waist before she left the room. “Sev?” she called out once in the hall. There was no answer. Walking into the parlor there was no sign of him, nor was he in the kitchen. “Sev?” panic slipped into her voice. But no one answered her.

Sitting upon the couch where she and Severus had snuggled the night before, Lily wrapped her arms around herself, trying to calm her growing alarm. Sev was fine, he probably had to go to a meeting early and had not wanted to wake her. Yes, that was it. Severus had been gone all night before… just not when they were married… He had told her about it plenty of times.

After taking several moments to collect herself, Lily felt better, or that is at least what she told herself. Yes, everything was alright. Severus was fine. He would be home soon.

Lily jumped a foot in the air when there came a knock at the door. Shaking her head at her own silliness, the young witch smiled stupidly to herself before tucking loose hairs behind her ears. She was such a silly girl sometimes. Sev always called her a “capricious cherub” affectionately whenever she was scared of something stupid.

Grinning, feeling much better than before, Lily stood and walked to the door. Maybe it was Sev, playing some little prank. He was a sneaky little Slytherin, after all. He always loved to be called that!

Unable to stop herself, the witch giggled softly. Severus was such an imp at times! She loved him so very much, she was lucky he had forgiven her for the past. She did not deserve him, and she did not know what she would do if she lost him.

Opening the door, Lily was surprised to find the Headmaster standing on the stoop. “Professor Dumbledore,” she breathed, tightening her robe self-consciously. “What are you doing here?” she began, feeling ill, although she did not know why. He knows, was all her mind could think about.

“Mrs. Snape,” he inclined his head slowly.

“S-Snape?” she tried to feign shock. “Albus, why would you-?”

“Let us not play games, my dear,” Dumbledore smiled sadly.

Lily’s stomach lurched painfully and she began to pale. She knew that smile of the Headmaster’s. It never boded good tidings. “Alright,” she said quietly, gripping the door until her knuckles whitened with effort. “How did you know I was here?” she asked suspiciously.

“Severus told me where to find you.”

“Really?” her voice shook slightly. “You spoke to Sev recently?”

“I’m afraid I have,” Albus replied solemnly.

The answer, again, frightened the young witch, who began to feel cold. “Oh?” her voice sounded odd to her own ears. “When? Where?” it came out far too much like a plea.

At this, Dumbledore’s valiant smile failed and his face fell. Lily had never felt so scared and utterly ill in all of her life. She began to tremble all over. “Where is Sev?” she demanded desperately.

As though forcing his head up to look into her face, Lily beheld nothing but utter sorrow and regret in the old wizard’s eyes. “I’m afraid that Severus is gone,” he spoke gently.

At that moment, the young wife had become whiter than any snow. Her hair blew about her face in crimson waves, her emerald eyes gone completely dull. Her trembling intensified and for a moment, her legs began to protest and give way. But she caught herself thanks to Dumbledore.

Once sure that she was steady, Albus gave her a folded up, black cloak. She reached out for it with unsteady hands. “He wanted you to have this,” the Headmaster said quietly.

Looking down at the familiar robe, Lily instantly cried out in horror as she saw the dark ruby stains. Falling to her knees, the young widow began to wail in agony. “No!” she screamed. “No! Oh God, please no!” She buried her face within the soft folds of her husband’s cloak. The sweet scent of his sweat mixed with cloves filled her nostrils, causing her to weep harder.

“No, no!” she bawled. “Not my Sev! Please not my Severus!”

And from that day on, a piece of Lily Ann Snape died along with her husband’s good name.

1994

Walking from the Castle of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Severus Snape scowled darkly. He hated his wretched life, he hated his job, and he hated the meetings he had to attend every few weeks. What was there to talk about? The Dark Lord was still not resurrected- and would not be if he had anything to do with it- and Harry Potter, the bloody little brat though he was, was still safely hidden away from the Death Eaters as well as the rest of the wizarding world. What was left to talk about? Perhaps what kind of tea they should serve once the Dark Lord rose?

Lucius probably just wants to show off a new toy or something, Severus thought moodily. Why did he constantly have to be put through such useless assemblies? He had not heard one piece of truly valuable information in his spying assignment in thirteen years. Damn waste of time!

Placing his bone white mask over his naturally pale face, the Potions Master stalked off. He sneered at the mask, wishing he could burn it and everything it stood for. How he wished he could burn all of his dark arts books, his Death Eater robes, anything that could possibly remind him of his past, horrible mistakes, and his years of endless misery. But that was wishful thinking only. There was no way he could carry out his desires as the simple fact of it all was he needed everything he despised so greatly. He still needed to adorn his robe and mask, he still needed his dark books.

What a wretched existence you lead, Severus allowed only the briefest moment of self pity before he appearated away into the night.

&&&&&

Once the world came back into focus, the tired spy stalked off into the forest surrounding Malfoy manner, towards the light. Ironic, he thought with a sneer. Surely that was where Lucius was holding his grand waste of everybody’s time, yes?

Looking up to the moon before he made it under the cover of the trees’ canopy, the professor sighed. He hated being a spy, he hated his life, but most importantly, he hated himself. Why did he have to live with such as unfortunate life? How had his life gotten so out of order? But he knew the answer to that; it had all ready started the moment of his conception…

After joining in the crowd of numerous lunatics, Severus made himself comfortable in the back. He was neither first nor last, as other Death Eaters came filing in after him. Lucius was at the front greeting his “guests”. Snape was glad for the mask or everyone would have seen him scoff at the pureblood. Merlin he hated that blond wizard.

Carefully Occuluding his mind, the Potions Master made sure not to draw any unnecessary attention to himself. Ever since he could remember, Severus had always been good at being invisible without the use of magic. With his customary black he could easily slip in and out without being detected or missed. An unfortunate, but advantageous skill he had acquired over his many years of abuse.

“My brothers!” Lucius called out once everyone seemed to be in attendance. It was only then that Severus realized that there were no women attending the assembly this evening. “We have worked long and hard to raise our master from his grave, and I understand your fatigue. So tonight, I have arranged a little special fun for the gentlemen.”

“Damnit!” Severus hissed almost soundlessly. When it was “fun night” for the men, that meant it would be hell for some women.

What Lucius and the others seemed called amusement was actually classified as rape and murder. This “game” was held every so often to keep members entertained and loyal. Usually a woman was brought out before the ring of Death Eaters, raped by one while his companions cheered him on and sneered at her plight, before they got tired of her and the poor girl was killed on the spot. She was usually a Muggle or Muggle-born, but every once and a while they took a half-blood too. After the “first kill,” the others went out to find their own victims. It was more than barbaric.

In his career of being an actual Death Eater and then as a spy, Severus had never participated in any of the “games” held over the past sixteen years, though of course he heard reports of them from other Death Eaters bragging their sport. As a loyal Death Eater, the Dark Lord always had use of him brewing potions and under Albus he was always spying and keeping his ears open. But even loyal to Voldemort, Severus had never begged to be a part of this game. It was just… far too vicious for his taste. He could only think of Lily when such talk was brought up and he could never bring himself to kill a woman. Not directly anyway…

As the crowd cheered, Severus remained silent, wondering the best course he should take. Would anyone notice that he had gone, or would they think he had not bothered to come at all? What excuse could he make? There was no school for several months and he always used the potions excuse. Perhaps he should just argue that these types of meetings were worthless?

Just then, with a smart crack, Lucius brought forward his prey. The woman was small in stature, only about five feet tall. She was slender, hardly a curve to her body. Severs watched as the mass of curly blond hair lifted her head to reveal frightened, wild blue eyes. The Potions Master’s heart nearly stopped when he realized that it was not a woman at all, but a young girl. A nine or ten year old girl that was trembling so terribly, the professor wondered if she were going to snap from the tension.

With a merciless sneer, Lucius looked down at his kill with satisfied grey eyes. The crowd became wild with excitement as the Death Eater leader removed his cloak with vivid gestures, while all the while keeping his mask firmly in place. Wretched coward! Damned bastard! Severus’s mind screamed as he watched the terrified girl try to shrink away before Lucius grabbed her in a rape-choke hold.

With tears streaming down her eyes, the girl began to weep, eliciting more jeers from the crowd of aroused men. “Please,” she cried softly to Lucius. “Please, let me go!” But her pleas were as useless as Hagrid in potions class. There was no chance in hell that the esteemed Malfoy would even consider pitying a poor Muggle or Muggle-born girl.

“What’s this? Crying are we?” he sneered down at her. “If you’re going to grow up to be a big witch, you shouldn’t have tears? What would the other wizards and witches think?”

“I-I don’t even know you! Any of you!” she begged softly. “Please let me go!” she dissolved into tears.

By this time, Severus had found his way forward and he tried to catch eyes with the girl. He had had enough of this, all of it! If he could just look into the girl’s eyes then he could try and do something! Anything was better than to see Lucius, the sick pervert, have his way with a ten year old girl! But should he? He was usually not to interfere with Death Eater activity; Dumbledore had left clear instructions in such circumstances such as this, and thus far in his life, Severus had followed that rule to the T- but a ten-year-old girl? Damn Lucius, Dumbledore, and the Dark Lord himself!

Realizing that everyone was too busy with watching the cute blond girl and the disgusting blond wizard, Snape took off his mask. The act caught the girl’s terrified gaze and he looked deep into her eyes. At first she was scared, but Severus tried to make her understand that he was not going to hurt her before he even attempted to enter her mind.

As Lucius advanced the girl, a spell was shot out and enveloped the frightened girl. She glowed blue for a moment and whispered, “Thank you!” before she was suddenly gone.

At first the crowd of Death Eaters stood a moment in shocked confusion. But after a moment, furious, Lucius turned and shot the wizard who had his wand up. Everyone, including Snape, who had saved the girl, ducked down and in the confusion, managed to get several feet away and into a different location by the time the other Death Eaters had risen and Lucius began his reign of questioning. “Who did that? Who!” he bellowed.

Although the senior Death Eater was dense at time, Severus knew that Lucius was smart enough to know he had hit his target as he had traced where the beam of magic had come from. Looking down at his bleeding hand, the spy desperately tried to think of something to do to get away. If he was discovered, that would be it. There would be nothing he could do except pray for death quickly. Thoughts of killing himself ran through the wizard’s head, but because of a spell Dumbledore had cast years ago, that would have been impossible. Damned old fool! he cursed to himself.

Although panicked, Severus was able to think rationally, and realized that he was near the Apparate sight. If he could inch a foot away, he could get away! Very quietly, the scout moved away stealthily. Lucius was just about to him and he had several more inches to go. Blood trickled down his hand and onto the bottom of his robes. He dared not heal himself at the moment, drawing his wand and thereby drawing attention to himself.

But right before Severus was about to Apparate, someone grabbed his hand. Fear spiked through the spy and cold dread spread through his limbs. His hand was raised slowly and he closed his eyes for a moment, before turning around to face the cold gray eyes of Lucius. Malfoy’s face was twisted into a mask of pure rage.

Without ceremony, the senior Death Eater grabbed Severus’s mask with his other hand and ripped it off the traitor’s face. “You!” Lucius exclaimed upon seeing who he had thought was a loyal member of the Dark Lord’s minions. “Snape!” it seemed he could not get out of the shock.

With his heart pounding in his ears, Severus was able to take advantage of the situation and tear his hand away from the blond. With a disgusted sneer he stumbled backwards an inch before he apparated away, leaving the stunned and enraged crowd of Death Eaters.

&&&&&

The next moment Severus found himself in his house at Spinner’s End. He could not believe that he had gotten away as easily as he had. But he pushed back his over confidence and began Flooing all of this belongings away to his home at Hogwarts as fast as he could. Everything he had, his books, his clothes, but especially the items that he suspected could be horcrux of the Dark Lord. Everything.

After running around through the house, becoming exhausted using so much magic, Severus almost thought he had gotten away when he heard several loud cracks. “Shit!” he hiss as he tried to run out the back door. Unfortunately for him, Lucius and several others were on him like bloodhounds, and the moment they saw him, they began throwing several nasty cruses and hexes his way.

For the most part, the spells were wild and off target, but several hit the spy as he struggled to get away, running at neck-breaking speed down the Muggle street. Pain pulsed through Severus’s body, but then he had been injured like this before. Ignoring the searing pain, Snape’s mind was thinking fast and he knew he had to get away or he would die. Not knowing exactly what he was doing, the desperate wizard simple apparated, telling his mind to take him someplace safe. Anywhere! Somewhere where I can just rest!

In the next instant, Severus fell to the ground with an ungraceful thud. Unable to stifle a groan, the injured wizard rolled over to find himself close to his home, at the playground that he and Lily had always met at in the summer. Closing his eyes again, the Potions Master took several deep breaths before sitting up. He looked around cautiously, but found that the Death Eaters hunting him were gone; had probably taken off a second after their convict had.

Unable to stop a sneer, Severus stood up gingerly, thinking how stupid Death Eaters really were. If they had waited but a moment, they would have heard another crack and realized that he had basically done a round about. They were almost as bad as several of the students that he taught. Longbottom came to mind…

But standing up took a lot more effort than the Potions Master had previously thought. He staggered over to the jungle gym and leaned heavily against it. What would he do now? The Death Eaters would station people around Spinner’s End for sure by the time the night was out. He could not get to Hogwarts as there was no one there in the summer but him and Hagrid, and Hagrid was away for a while this summer! Besides, he could not make the hike up to the castle, and even if he could, he was sure there would be Death Eaters waiting there for him. All seemed hopeless.

Looking down at his ebony wand, the Slytherin began to check himself medically. Unfortunately, his magic reserves were far too stressed, and he knew he should not do much magic anymore or he could risk hurting himself further in the long run. He had no desire of ending up a squib, thank you very much. But what was he to do? He could hardly walk, and he was slowly bleeding to death.

An idea struck him and he took out several potions he always carried about his person. Un-shrinking the vials, he downed three of them; one for slowing blood flow, one for blood replenishing, and the last was Pepper Up Potion to give stamina. That would ensure he would survive the night… he hoped, but he needed to go somewhere to heal himself properly. But where in this blasted Muggle neighborhood could he go?

Frustrated and panicked, the Potions Master let his arms dangle uselessly at his sides. But then he felt something strange in his pocket. Frowning, he could not think about what it could be, as he often organized everything, and always knew where everything was at all times. But as he drew out the offending object, he found himself holding a bottle cap.

“What the hell?” he wondered out loud, and before he knew it, the blasted little thing had him twirling about and carried away.

Landing for the second time that night on his face, Severus groaned again. He stared viciously at the little bottle cap as though it had hurt him on purpose. But with a start, the wizard realized that the stupid little cap had been a portkey. A porkkey! But where exactly was he at?

Sitting up was harder the second time around, but the wizard found himself in a Muggle housing development. All the houses were sickeningly identical, right down to what trees planted where. Although he was an ordered and logical man, Severus could not but be disgusted by the lack of individuality of each home. It was far too disturbing really.

But Snape crawled to his feet and staggered forward towards a little houses, hoping to get some inkling of where in the wide world he was. With his vision darkening further, the wizard cursed, but found the number of the house. Number four Privet Drive.

Severus’s eyes widened with shock. Was number four Privet Drive not supposed to be Potter’s home? That blasted portkey had taken him to the glorious dwelling of the little snot Potter? “I’ll kill you yet, Albus,” Snape vowed venomously, but could not deny- at least to himself- the relief he felt of having a place to go. Surely Potter would help him, if he ordered him to, right? The little toe-rag would not want to have his professor’s death on his hands, right? Right.

Taking out his wand, the Potions Master pointed it at the lock and opened the door. Although it was dark, he could already tell he was in a den of evil. He could see lace and frills everywhere. No wonder the boy was so damn annoying, Petunia probably spoiled him rotten, the little good for nothing!

But before he could dwell on his dislike of Potter and his aunt, Severus’s body began to fail. Protesting under his light weight, Severus’s legs gave out, and he began to fall. His mind too, also began to shut down as he had pushed his body far too hard. There was a moment that as he fell, the wizard was afraid that he might fall to the floor and never get up, or that someone would find him and let him bleed to death. But those thoughts came to nothing as he lost consciousness, never knowing where he fell.

1994

Rolling over with a moan, Harry Potter sat up from bed and rubbed his eyes furiously. Sitting still for several more minutes, he finally opened his brilliant green eyes to look around his tiny bare room. But at least you have a room, a small part of his mind reminded him. After living in a cupboard for almost eleven years, it really brought a new perspective on small blessings.

Casting a sleepy glance over to the corner, Harry smiled stupidly at his owl, who was still sleeping, her face buried under her wing. Looking over at the clock on his tiny light stand, the boy sighed as he read the numbers. Only five after five in the morning; much too early for sane people to be awake, but here he was. Putting up with his relatives’ crap for the past thirteen years, Harry decided that he had to be insane.

Kicking his feet over the bed, the sleepy wizard stood up slowly, stretched, and made his way over to the closet. Opening the door as quietly as he could, lest he wake Hedwig, Harry picked out his outfit for the day. What would it be today? His baggy pants and t-shirt, or perhaps the baggy pants and t-shirt? Or maybe he could wear those baggy pants and t-shirt?

Smiling humorlessly, the young wizard grabbed the first pair of pants and shirt his hands brushed up against before he turned and walked out of his room. Thanks to his godfather, Sirius, Harry had been able to convince his relations not to lock him in his room. Although he forgot just exactly what he had said, he did recall telling them that the man was an escaped convict from Azkaban and highly dangerous. Mentioning he also had a werewolf friend had not hurt either.

But that threat was slowly wearing off. The Dursleys were getting back into the regular swing of things where they abused him, but thus far, they had forgotten about locking him in his room. But pushing all those thoughts back in his mind, Harry walked to the bathroom and closed the door. Locked in and secure, the boy smiled once more before stripping and stepping into the shower.

Harry let the warm water hit him without moving. He let the heat surround him, let it fuse into his skin, and he draw as much comfort as he could from its embrace. A tired sigh escaped the boy’s lips after several minutes when he realized that he had to stop wasting time and actually get on with the fundamentals of showering. Washing his body first, Harry scrubbed himself as clean as he could before moving on to his mess of curly, wavy hair. Even when it was wet, the rebellious mass of locks still refused to be tame.

Turning off the water, after only a seven minute shower, Harry dried himself off and dressed quickly. After years of observation, the young wizard realized that his relatives slept the heaviest in the early morning. So in order to actually take a warm shower, all he had to do was get up before them, make sure everything was exactly as it had been before, and they were none the wiser and he was much cleaner! It was a brilliant plan really, even if he had to suffer the loss of a few hours sleep. But it was worth it to be clean. He hated having greasy hair.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, Harry scowled. His hair was too unruly and his frame too thin. He hated being the lightest and one of the shortest boys in his entire year. If only he could grow! He would be happy with being five foot ten if he could achieve it. The thought of his statue’s less than desired accomplishments thus far only brought bitterness when he realized that part of it was to be blamed on the Dursleys and their abuse. Sighing once more, deciding that it was not worth it to brood, the young wizard carefully opened the bathroom door and returned his sleepwear into his bedroom. After he watered and fed Hedwig her tiny meal, he decided to get a jump on his chores for the day. When Uncle Vernon could not find anything for him to do, it was usually better to be kicked outside in order to walk around the neighborhood rather than having to scrub the floors on his hands and knees.

Walking down the stairs, Harry scowled at the pictures of his cousin on the way down. How could anyone love such a gross child like Dudley? But obviously there was some appeal to him, as Vernon and Petunia utterly dotted on and spoiled the walrus. Harry could not help but wonder how he would have turned out had his mother and father lived. Would he be as spoiled as Dudley or, heaven forbid, Draco? Or would he be more along the lines of a child like Hermione? His parents did have a lot more money than the Weasleys, but would they have raised him with the same affection and discipline as Arthur and Molly? Unfortunately, he would never know.

When he was walking to the kitchen, something flopped onto the couch in the parlor caught Harry’s attention. Stopping, the boy frowned when he saw a large black… something. It looked like some sort of black blanket that someone had thrown unceremoniously aside while walking by. But who could have done that? He was never so careless of being messy-at least not in the Dursleys house- and Aunt Petunia would rather die than have anything out of place. But what was it?

Shyly creeping forward, Harry inspected the offending object with curiosity. But as he got closer, something else caught his eye… A boot! “Holy shit!” the boy hissed, reeling backwards. This wasn’t some sort of blanket at all, it was a person!

Gathering up his Gryffindor courage, Harry crept forward once more, carefully watching for any signs of life. Whoever this was, definitely was not one of the Dursleys as he was far too thin to be Vernon or Dudley, but far too tall to be Petunia; not to mention that the shoe size looked far too big for any of his relatives. But then that meant this was a complete stranger!

Looking around frantically, Harry backed away slowly, afraid of getting attacked. Without really thinking of what he was doing, the boy went and grabbed an umbrella from the rack before entering the parlor once more. Now armed, he decided that he could handle the intruder. But what if this man simply over powered him and took the umbrella? Shrugging, Harry decided that he’d just run to the fireplace and get something else. The idea of chucking all of his aunt’s glass baskets held a very great appeal on the thirteen year old.

Whoever this was had to have had a key to get in. Or a wand, Harry thought grimly. But then if this was a wizard, then he had had no intent upon coming here to harm Harry as the wards would not have let him in otherwise. Or had this wizard been able to take down all the wards surrounding the house and had collapsed from exhaustion? Or was this simply some average drunk that had wondered off the street last night looking for his house and had somehow gotten in?

Whoever this guy was, Harry had no intent upon letting him stay. As much as he hated this place, this was still his house and no one was going to chase him out! If only I had my wand!

Taking a deep breath while tightening the grip on the umbrella, Harry got within several feet of the intruder. Cautiously he kicked the booted foot. Said foot merely swayed a bit before settling; nothing else. The teenager kicked it again, but received the same response: nothing. Frowning, Harry leaned forward, determined to unmask, so to speak, the blob of black, when a hand shot out from the black monster and latched securely onto Harry’s wrist.

Caught unprepared, Harry let out a surprised cry as he frantically tried to shake the intruder off his hand. “Get off! Get off!” the boy cried, and prepared to strike his attacker when he looked down to see blaring obsidian eyes glaring up at him. “Professor Snape?” Harry gasped in surprise.

The older wizard stared at his student for a moment before his face scrunched up into a mix between agony and confusion. While his hand never loosened its grip, the professor began to slouch back into the sofa once more, as though his surprise attack had taken more out of him than he had first thought possible. Unbalanced, Harry found that he was going down with the Potions Master.

“Professor Snape,” he whispered urgently. “Professor, get off my arm!” he pleaded.

But Snape did not seem to hear the boy. When Harry looked down at his hated teacher once more, he found the man looking much paler than the last time they had seen each other. In fact, the man looked dead. He seemed to be fighting unconsciousness and illness. Dear Merlin he’s drunk! was Harry’s first thought. And when he was about to tell his professor to get up and go be drunk somewhere else, he noticed dark smudges on the couch. As his green eyes swept over the older wizard once more, Harry was shocked to see darkening stains all over the man’s robes. Blood. 

Dear God!

“Lily,” the raspy voice caught Harry by surprise and he jumped. “Lily, I’m bleeding,” Snape’s voice was unnatural in the young wizard’s ears. “I’m hurt,” the man pleaded on. “Help me!”

Harry blanched. He stared down at his teacher who was looking intently into his green eyes expectantly. “P-Professor?” Harry’s voice shook far too much for his own liking. “Professor, it’s me, Harry. Harry Potter? What are you doing here?”

Slowly, Harry watched as the vulnerable, pleading face of the dungeon bat contorted into a mask of angry confusion. “What are you doing here, Potter?” he spat, but in his weakened state, it paled in comparison to when he was in full health. “You shouldn’t be wandering the castle at this time of night.”

“P-professor?” Harry frowned.

“You’ll get yourself killed,” Snape went on. “And I’ll have to clean it all up. I always have to clean it all up, never you.”

“Sir, I think you’re delusional. What’s wrong with you?” Harry’s alarm grew the more the man spoke. And why had Snape said Harry’s mother’s name? Had Snape know Lily Potter? It was a possibility since the Potions Master had known and loathed James Potter.

“Potter!” the professor looked at his student for the first time with clear recognition blazing in his cold eyes. “W-where am I?” he asked quietly.

“You’re in my house, sir,” the boy eyed the wizard carefully. “What’s going on? What happened to you? Why are you here?”

“I’m hurt,” the Potions Master said bluntly. “I need medical attention immediately.”

“Where are you hurt?” Despite having hated the man for three years, Harry found he could not deny the man help, even as a little part of his mind screamed that he should let the bastard bleed out.

“It’s my torso,” Snape grimaced in pain. “It’s bleeding. It bleed last night.”

Frowning, not knowing exactly what to do, Harry helped his teacher sit up straight. The man was tall, and Harry found that although Snape had almost been dead weight, Snape did not seem like he weighed all that much, as helping him had not been nearly as hard as Harry had thought it would. Snape began to shrug off his cloak, and the teenager found himself helping.

Merlin! The absolute last thing in the world Harry thought he would ever do was help Snape get undressed! But here he was throwing the cloak to the side and unbuttoning the man’s custom shirt. Disgust coursed through Harry’s body as he thought about what he was doing. He had absolutely no desire to see his professor’s exposed chest and he had no desire to touch this man. But catching his thoughts, the teenager chastised himself thoroughly for his grudges. Snape saved my life before, and now I’m just returning the favor.

As Harry began to peel the shirt away from Snape’s body, the man let out a startled cry of pain. Paling, the thirteen year old began to shake in fright. When he had pulled the shirt away, it seemed that the blood had dried and had begun to scab over the wounds. Essentially he had just ripped off a very big scab. “P-professor, I-” he began, feeling ill.

With wide, horrified eyes, Snape looked into the bright green eyes, his own dark seeming to glaze over once more. “You…you hurt me.”

The statement was like a knife in the heart. There was no heat behind those words, no bite. Gone was the dreaded and feared Potions Master, and in his place seemed to be a frightened child. Snape’s voice had no malice, no sneer. He looked at Harry as though the younger wizard had utterly and totally betrayed him.

“I-I’m sorry!” Harry whispered through tears in his eyes. Merlin, why did he feel so terrible? Hadn’t he and Ron plotted ways to hurt the greasy old bat a million times? Hadn’t everyone in the school plotted some sort of way to hurt the dungeon master someway? So why then, when he had the chance, did Harry feel so utterly horrible about doing the necessary?

The two wizards continued to stare at each other for a moment before Snape’s eyes rolled back into his head and he lost consciousness again. For about the fourth time that morning, Harry’s face lost all color. What was he to do? He was usually the one hurt, he had never healed anyone before. What was he to do? What was he to do!

A creak of the stairs brought Harry back into awareness and his head shot up to look over his shoulder. Oh no!

“Harry James Potter!” he heard his aunt’s whiny voice hiss. “What the hell do you think…” her furious tirade ended abruptly when she saw the scene before her. “Dear sweet Mary!” she gasped.

“I-I can explain!” Harry tried desperately to think of something. Oh no, oh no, oh no! She’s gunna kill me and then she’s gunna leave Snape to die!

Her face set in a mask of outrage, Petunia stormed forward and Harry tried to think of a way to protect the injured wizard. After all, Snape had saved his life once, the least Harry could do was make sure his aunt did not kill the Potions Master. But just as the boy was about to block his aunt’s way, she stopped promptly once more, her face turning bone white before taking on a green color. She stifled a scream by shoving her fist in her mouth and just stared down at Snape with wide blue eyes. Her whole body began to shake violently and for a moment, Harry thought his aunt would faint.

“I-I-is h-he real?” her voice was whisper.

Harry looked from his aunt’s white face to Snape’s and back confusedly. “Yes,” he did not know what to say.

“How-?” Petunia seemed to have forgotten her nephew’s presence all together as she stared down into the unconscious man’s face. “It’s not possible,” her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she studied his face.

“Please, Aunt Petunia!” Harry pleaded, bringing the woman out of her thoughts. “He’s hurt. Really badly. I think he’s got a fever and I… I don’t know what to do,” he admitted.

For a sickening moment, Harry thought his aunt was going to deny the professor aid when she sat down next to the injured man and felt his forehead. She winced slightly as her hand brushed up against the wizard’s skin. But after a moment, she mover her hand over to the man’s long black hair. Almost tenderly, she brushed the locks out of Snape’s eyes before dropping her hand again.

“Go get some towels and the first aid kit out of the bathroom,” she instructed. “Now! I’ll get a bowl of water to clean out his wounds.”

Shocked, Harry stood staring at his aunt as though she had grown a horn in the middle of her head. She was willing to help? Why the hell was Petunia Dursley helping a man she did not even know? But not wanting her to change her mind, Harry nodded once before he sped off to do as his aunt had bid him, for the first time in his life, not cursing her under his breath as he normally did.

Running into the bathroom, Harry began collecting several towels that he thought could get bloodied without leaving stains and grabbing the first aid kit and the extra bandages. No telling how big Snape’s injuries were, but if Harry had to judge, he would say they were pretty extensive. He did not think a few scraps and bruises would lead the stern Potions Master to hallucinate. Besides, the man had a fever, and that was never a good sign.

Rushing back down, Harry found that his aunt had managed to take Snape’s shirt completely off and was tenderly rinsing off the clots of blood. Seeing the man’s exposed torso, Harry sucked in a sympathetic hiss. The wizard had a long, nasty looking cut from the bottom of his left hip to the top of his right shoulder. His hand also looked crippled and broken. What had happened to the man?

“Get over here!” Petunia growled, instantly snapping Harry out of his observations.

Quickly scooting over to his aunt, he began to open the first aid kit and handed her all of the bandages. Petunia looked over the supplies and took out the rubbing alcohol and several cotton swabs. “This big cut’s the worst,” her voice was flat. “It’ll need stitches I think. And he has several nasty looking things on his back that need cleaned as well.”

Harry nodded absently. What had happed to Snape to leave him in such a state? “What can I do?” the teenager found himself asking.

“Hold him while I lean him forward,” his aunt commanded. “You’ll have to be careful with him. He’s in pretty bad shape. I don’t think he’s seen a doctor for any of these.”

Nodding, the boy did as he was told and readied himself as his aunt pushed the professor forward. Snape’s head flopped onto Harry’s shoulder, and the boy had to bite his tongue to keep from groaning. This was far too close to the man he hated most, but he could find no anger with his professor while he was in a state of helpless unconsciousness. Besides, Snape probably did not want to be this close to him either. After all, it would all be over in a minute.

Once Petunia started cleaning out the wounds, Snape’s head shot up and he hissed in misery, his eyes tightly clamped shut. But the teacher tried nothing else. He simply sagged against Harry once more and let the woman accomplish her task, all the while biting his bottom lip, as though trying no to cry out. For a moment, Harry even thought he heard his professor whimper. But that was ridicules. Severus Snape whimpering? Please, the man probably did not even know how to cry.

After the cleaning was done, they wrapped the wounds securely before Harry was finally able to lean Snape back up against the couch. He looked over to his aunt to find that she was still shaken pretty bad. “He’ll need medicine,” she said candidly. “Does he have any potions with him?”

Blinking in surprise, Harry stared up at his aunt. How would his aunt, the woman that hated the magical world and anything attached to it, know about healing potions? And why had she helped a man, and more importantly, a wizard, she did not even know? What was going on here? Was the world finally at an end? Or was this some kind of dream? Was he about to wake up any moment to find himself upstairs in bed?

“I don’t know,” the boy admitted. “But I think I have a few in my trunk.”

“Stay here with him,” she instructed, her voice sounding weak. “I’ll go get the key to the cupboard.”

Openly gawking, Harry watched as his aunt walked away. She was going to let him in his truck? The world really was coming to an end! Or he was in some sort of alternant universe where professors randomly appeared out of nowhere and his aunt was being civil to him. What was next? Was someone going to come and inform him that Dumbledore was his father? That would just be the icing on the cake!

Looking down at the wounded wizard, Harry found that he could not sneer. While not awake, the teenager found his professor quite agreeable. In fact, the closer that he looked into Snape’s face, Harry realized just how young his professor really was. Thinking back to his own parents, the young wizard remembered that James and Lily had married almost right out of Hogwarts, which meant that they were both twenty when he was born, which made Professor Snape only thirty-four years old. Cocking his head thoughtfully, Harry found that he could believe it looking at the man when his infamous sneer was not in place.

Only thirty-four…

Petunia came back into the room and handed Harry a little silver key. “Go on,” she jerked her head over to the cupboard.

Nodding, the boy went and felt a strange sense of power at being able to open what had been his prison for ten years on his own. It was odd how such a little and insignificant act of opening a door made Harry feel as though he were more powerful than Albus Dumbledore himself. Snorting at his own stupidity, the Boy-Who-Lived decided that sooner he got the professor his potions, the sooner the man would get better, meaning the sooner Snape would be able to leave.

Rummaging through his things, at last Harry found the potions he had been looking for. The Headmaster had given them to him at the end of the term, say that they were there if he needed them. As uncomfortable as it had made him feel then, the Gryffindor was glad he had accepted them. Although Dumbledore knew that the Dursleys were not particularly… nice to Harry, the old wizard could never have known that his act of kindness would have been so appreciated as it was now. The Headmaster did not know that Snape would end up here wounded this summer… did he?

Shaking his head of all thoughts not directly linked to the sick man in the parlor, Harry grabbed the potions he thought he would need before shutting the lid of his trunk and walking back. Despite their abhorrence for one another, the young wizard could not help but feel that things would change between he and the Potions Master after this. After all, the man was in his student’s debt. Maybe he would remember this when the school year rolled around again.

“Here,” Petunia held out her hands for the vials. “Which one is which?” she asked.

Looking at the labels, Harry read them each carefully before handing them over to his aunt. “The blue one’s for disinfections. The green one’s blood replenisher. The pink one’s for the fever.”

There was no mistaking Petunia’s revulsion of what she was doing now handling magical potions, but she seemed to be biting her tongue. “How much do I give him of each?” she asked, her voice loosing confidence.

“Um… all of the green, a swallow of the blue, and… um, all of the pink,” Harry thought back to all the times he had been in the hospital wing at school and was confident that he was right. But what if he wasn’t? Would Snape die? Don’t second guess yourself, Potter, Harry told himself sternly. Always go with your gut.

Harry watched in fascination as his aunt held Snape’s head up and pressed the vial to his pale lips. Instantly, the professor’s eyes flew open. “Poison!” he gasped.

Both Petunia and Harry were startled by the outburst, but were able to gather their wits back quickly. Harry came and gently held his professor’s shoulders while Petunia spoke quietly to him. “Severus?” she said, her voice more gentle than her nephew had ever heard it before, even to Dudley. “Severus, it’s Petunia. You’re sick and you need to take your medicine.”

The Potions Master seemed to be confused at first as he looked up at the woman before him. His eyes were glazed over and glassy, and for a moment, he really looked dead until he shivered. “Don’t send me home,” he whispered.

The statement was dismal and imploring, and for just a moment, it was as though the frightening Potions Master was nothing but a child. Indeed, for a brief moment, Harry saw nothing but a little black haired boy, scared and alone. How was he supposed to hate this man if after every passing moment he felt more and more sorry for him?

Petunia also looked deeply affected by the man’s overture, and Harry thought he even saw tears in his aunt‘s eyes. “I’m not going to send you home,” she said tenderly. “But you need to drink these.”

The obsidian eyes looked at the vials before him distrustfully and then at the people before him. In his fevered state, Snape did not seem to fully understand the situation or the fact that anyone was trying to help him. He was stuck in the dreadful bridge between awareness and dream. As soon as the Muggle and the young wizard figured that the Potions Master did not understand, his eyes sparked with some recognition and reached for the potions.

Snape’s hands trembled awfully, but Petunia kept her hands on the glass as the wizard grabbed them and tossed back one after the other. “Harry,” the boy’s aunt said quietly, as though afraid to dismay the professor, “please go get Severus something to drink.”

Nodding, Harry scuttled off to the kitchen. Only when he was filling the glass did he realize one very important thing: he had not told his aunt who Snape was! Nowhere in his memories did Harry ever recall telling his aunt about Snape, nor had he introduced him this morning. But that would have to mean that his aunt had known the Slytherin before Harry had!

Coming back out, the young Gryffindor listened as his aunt cooed the distressed looking man down. When the boy was near enough, his aunt snatched the water away and helped the shaking man drink it down. “Harry,” Petunia’s voice was still low. “We need to get Severus upstairs and away from view. Vernon will be waking in half an hour.”

Snapping his head towards the clock, Harry’s jaw dropped when he did indeed behold it was already six thirty in the morning. Where had all the time gone? What seemed to have only taken ten minutes had truly taken over an hour! “Where are we going to put him?” he asked his aunt, making sure he too kept his voice soft.

“For now?” the woman bit her upper lip. “For now I think we should keep him in your room. Vernon goes in every other room, and I don’t want him finding Severus. We’ll keep him there until he can leave. I’ll make up a cot for you to sleep on until then.”

Nodding, agreeing with the plan, Harry went on the other side of the professor and he and his aunt lifted the man to his feet. Snape once again did not seem to understand that they needed him to walk and tried to twist out of their grasps. “I’m not going back!” the wizard’s trembling got so bad that he almost shook out of Harry’s hands.

“You’re not going back, Severus,” Petunia winced, while trying to keep her peer upright. “We’re going to put you to bed and need you to climb the stairs.”

“I’m not going back,” Snape glowered at the woman, but it was a pathetic attempt due to his condition.

Sighing in frustration, the Muggle woman seemed to look around for an idea to use. Her face brighten when she came up with one. “Lily’s upstairs,” she said sweetly. “She’s waiting for you.”

At this, the man’s face relaxed, and his eyes brightened. “Lily? She…she’s waiting for me?”

“Yes, Severus. Come along upstairs.”

Although it was slow goings, the trio made their way out of the parlor and up the stairs. A few times Harry worried that the wizard was going to collapse, but he seemed determined not to fail. The idea that the man was so very much wanting to see Harry’s mother really confused and unnerved the boy. And how did Petunia know that would work? How did Petunia know Snape?!

Once in Harry’s room, Harry and his aunt laid Snape down in bed. As Petunia covered the man up, the boy took off his professor’s boots and set them beside the bed. The two of them huffed and puffed for a moment as they looked down at their charge who had already passed out, his raven hair falling in his face, sweat covering his body.

Petunia looked over at her nephew thoughtfully for a moment before looking back down at the sleeping wizard. “Come on Harry,” she said quietly. “Let’s make breakfast.”

1994

Numbly, Harry followed his aunt down the stairs and into the kitchen. As they sat down, neither one spoke for several minutes before his aunt’s head fell into her hands and she began to sob. Her shoulders shook more violently as the moments past.

Harry watched detachedly as the woman wept. He did not know what he should feel for his mother’s sister. For almost thirteen full years Petunia had tortured her nephew, never standing up for him when he was blamed and never caring when he was hurting. Why then did she suddenly break down crying for a man that had broken into her house? The idea of it actually offended Harry as he knew his aunt would not have done half the things for him that she had done for Snape. Was his own life so insignificant compared to someone else’s, even a wizard his family did not even know?

Not knowing what to do, but feeling compelled to do something, Harry raised his hand, almost placing it one his aunt’s shoulder for comfort. But the boy watched as his own hand fell uselessly to his side. What was he thinking? Petunia would probably slap his hand away in revulsion. She had never wanted her nephew to touch her in any way before, why would she want to now?

But not wanting to see the woman in such a state, the young wizard twisted his hands in his shirt. “Aunt Petunia?” his voice was small. “Are…are you alright?” worry leaked into his tone.

Very slow, Petunia’s face looked up, tears still streaming down her eyes. Shaking and pale, the Muggle woman stared into the face of her nephew as though looking for something hidden. There was a frown set firmly in place as though she could not find what she was looking for until she came to his green eyes. It was then that she gasped. “Heavens, you look some much like Potter,” she wheezed.

Scowling, Harry stared at his aunt indignantly. What was that supposed to mean? Was it such a bad thing to look like your father? Merlin, she praised Dudley more and more as he ‘filled out like his dad.’ So what if he looked like a Potter? Harry wanted to look like a Potter. They had been the only family he had ever had, and they were all dead. Looking like James made the young wizard proud. Anything he did that reminded someone of his father made Harry proud.

Harry bit back his temper and decided that it was not worth it to get into a fight, not after his aunt had helped him and agreed to hide his professor. Besides, what would Uncle Vernon do to him if he found the ‘freak’ shouting at his wife? The boy shuddered at the thought. He could almost feel the belt…

“Help me with breakfast,” Petunia said after a moment. With stilling hands, she wiped her eyes, sniffled, but put out a stiff upper lip. For just a moment, Harry thought he could see his mother in his aunt’s stead. The image of Lily Potter standing up straight, her emerald eyes flaring, as she built up her Gryffindor courage struck her son profoundly. How he wished he could have known her!

Sighing tiredly, the young wizard stood with his aunt. The two worked together for a few moments in silence, before Petunia’s eyes widened. “Severus bled all over the parlor!” her voice hitched in her throat. “I’ll go cover up the spots, you stay in here and carry on with breakfast.”

What had gotten into that woman? She was acting… like a real human being. Petunia hadn’t yelled all morning, except when she walked down the stairs to see a half dead man slumped on her couch. And she had not slapped him, which was even more impressive. Why did having Snape in the house make his aunt act so…weird?

A minute later, Petunia returned looking very put out. Although she did not deserve it, Harry handed her a hot cup of tea he had made. She took it gratefully, gulping it down as though it were something much stronger. But then, Harry could not blame her. It had been a rather nasty shock this morning. How many times did it happen that you woke up to find a bleeding man in the parlor? Honestly?

“A-Aunt Petunia?” he spoke up, all of his questions rushed into his mind in a great flood. Only when she looked at him, with weary eyes, did he continue. “How…how do you know Professor Snape?”

The woman turned an interesting shade of green before looking down at her hands helplessly. “How long have you known?” she asked quietly.

“Known what?” Harry frowned. “Professor Snape? I’ve known him since my first year at Hogwarts. How long have you known him?”

Not a second past before her head snapped back up as she openly gawked at her nephew. “You mean…you mean that you don’t… he doesn’t…know?”

An uneasiness spread throughout Harry’s body. His stomach flipped, and there was a second when the boy thought he would throw up. Why did he feel like this? His aunt had not said anything particularly disturbing, but the way she said it made Harry feel…uneasy-at best.

“Known?” he found himself sitting down.

Instantly, Petunia’s head fell back into her hands. “Forget it! Forget it!” she mumbled. Once collecting herself again, she looked up and stared at a spot on the table. “I…I knew Severus when he was a child,” her voice was a whisper. “He lived several houses down from us.”

Snape, living in a Muggle neighborhood? What the hell was that about? Did that mean that the Slytherin was not a pureblood? That was an interesting thought, especially since his little brood of raciest back at school adored him so.

“He…he would come over to play with Lily,” Petunia went on. “He…sometimes… they were… they were good friends.”

“Snape and my mum?” Harry could not help the outburst.

Petunia’s face took on a very odd look when she finally met her nephew’s eyes again. “Yes,” she nodded slowly. “Tell me,” she leaned forward, her eyes craving information. “Why is he here? He has to be here for you.”

Still thinking on the fact that his mum and the greasy git used to be friends, Harry did not think much on his answer as he blurted, “He wouldn’t be here for me.” Why had his voice been so bitter? “He hates me.”

This declaration sent Petunia reeling back in her chair as though Harry had slapped her across the face. The usually pinched, scowling face went into a display of disbelief, horror, anger, and confusion in rapid succession. Although, in the past, she had always fostered the idea that everyone had to hate Harry, it seemed now that she could not grasp the idea of someone else in the house disliking her nephew.

“Hate you?” scorn dripped from her voice. “He can’t hate you!”

“Well he does!” Harry shot back. “He hates me because I’m ‘just a bloody clone and goony of the James the Gryffindor-Golden-Git Potter Club’.” The thought of Snape’s taunts left a bad taste in his mouth. Why was he helping the bastard again?

After this proclamation, Petunia seemed far too stunned to speak. After several fruitless attempts, she seemed to shake off her initial shock enough to get up and pour herself some more tea. She shook her head as though trying to shake Harry’s words out of her ears. “He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know,” she muttered softly, almost too quietly for the young wizard to hear. “He can’t know, but why else would he be here?”

When she turned back around, Petunia saw her nephew staring at her perplexed. Averting her eyes, she looked back down at the tea rocking unsteadily in her hands until she sat back down. Although Harry was not sure, this seemed to be the biggest shock of his aunts life, but for the life of him, he could not figure out why. Wouldn’t the news of your sister and brother-in-law’s death by a man comparable to Hitler be more unsettling than an old neighbor appearing in your parlor?

“We’ll have to watch over him when your uncle and Dudley leave,” she went on, eyes firmly fixed on her cup. “Severus will need a lot more attention.”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia,” Harry responded automatically, while his thoughts were else where.

The two fell into an uneasy silence once more, both pensively staring at their tea. What they were thinking, they kept to themselves. Both parties were unwilling to break the silence now that it settled thickly around them. Whether it was out of fear or apprehension that they kept their mouths shut, neither one would let on, though it was plain on their faces.

“He’s…he’s really alive?”

Harry jumped when the quell was shattered. The question was so absurd, so unexpected that for a moment, the boy thought he had imagined it. But when he looked over and saw his aunt’s expectant face, he knew that he had heard correctly. “He was when we put him to bed,” Harry answered, brows furrowing in confusion.

That did not seem to be the answer that the Muggle woman wanted, but she did not comment further. Instead, she stood up and began preparing breakfast once more. Still puzzled, Harry followed suit and they worked together soundlessly. That is, until Vernon woke.

As always, they heard the man as he got up out of bed, hearing the springs groan in protest, before he stomped off to the bathroom. Petunia began shaking once again, afraid of what her husband would do if he found the wizard in Harry’s room. Harry too began to sweat, his stomach knotting sickeningly. Vernon probably would kill Snape as he had a hard time realizing that wizards were actually people too.

After twenty minutes, the fat man came charging down the stairs, each step creaking rebelliously. Both the woman and the young wizard stiffened as Vernon Dursley entered into the kitchen. He sat down, his chair looking as though it would break at any minute, without really looking up at his wife and nephew. As far as the man was concerned, this was just another day like any other. He had no idea that there was someone ill in the room he had graciously given his nephew.

“Get the paper boy!” Vernon snapped.

Ducking his head, Harry turned to do his hated uncle’s bidding, but not before chancing a glance at his aunt. Petunia kept her eyes stubbornly on the eggs she was frying. So with a sigh, the boy did as he was told, ignoring the death glares he was receiving form his elder.

Once outside, the wizard looked around, trying to see if there were any clues as to what had happened to his professor the night before. But it was really no surprise when he saw nothing. The only thing laying on the ground was the Monday paper.

Disappointed, Harry picked up the paper and started to make his way in when something reflective caught his eye. Curious, he walked into the lawn and picked up a bottle cap. Turning it over in his hands, the boy could not figure to what the cap had come from. There was nothing special about it, so in his frustration with the day, he threw it away into the bushes. Let the animals have it then!

Stocking back inside, the boy carefully put on a neutral face and hoped that his uncle would not have anything particularly nasty to do today. That would just be wonderful, having to do a whole list of chores while worrying about Snape upstairs. Greasy git! Did he have to come here and ruin Harry’s summer, as wretched as it was, too?

But he can’t be that bad. He was friends with mum, he thought placidly. Petunia had said that they had been friends. In his fevered state, Snape had wanted to see Lily. The man could not be as bad as he made himself out to be. Hagrid and Dumbledore had both told Harry how wonderful his mum was and how she was able to find the good in people and could read a person’s character.

Pushing back those thoughts, Harry set the paper on the table for his uncle, who griped at him as he walked by, but made no other move, before returning to his aunt’s side. She still looked sick, but it seemed Vernon had not noticed. Petunia sat down and waited to be served, like usual, and the wizard found himself acting the role of house elf once more, as though nothing had changed. Nothing has, the boy reminded himself rigidly.

When Dudley came thundering down the stairs was when Harry thought he would pass out from tension. His cousin was so loud, it could wake the dead. For a terrifying moment, Harry could see Snape standing there, his wand pointed at his cousin, and hexing him with curses that were borderline Unforgivable. No one at Hogwarts would put it past the Potions Master to do something of the sort. Well, except maybe Dumbledore, but then Harry did not have to worry about that. Snape was likely to be out for some time thanks to the fever reduce potion. Hopefully he was contently sweating it out.

After serving Dudley his twelve fried eggs, twenty link sausages, half a loaf of bread for toast, and a gallon of orange juice, Harry decided that he did not much feel up to eating. How could anyone stand to eat at the same table as Dudley? The boy was absolutely disgusting! No one on the Hogwarts staff would be so tolerant of such behavior, least of all McGonagall and Snape. Those two were sticklers for manners.

“What are you staring at, Potty?” Dudley demanded, mouth full.

Sneering, Harry glared at his cousin. “Nothing. Just watching to see when your heart would stop and you’d fall over dead.”

“Potter!” to everyone’s surprise, it was Petunia who stood up and screamed. Everyone turned wide eyes upon the woman. “I will not tolerate such insolence from you today! Up to your room!”

Unable to speak for a few moments, all Harry could do was stare. Wasn’t Uncle Vernon supposed to be the one that got angry with him and scream? What had gotten into Petunia today? Well, besides Snape being in the house…

And that’s when it hit him. His aunt was taking control of the situation and now had an excuse for sending Harry upstairs to watch over the wounded wizard without it looking suspicious. Very clever! Harry could not help but applaud his aunt’s manipulative ways.

“But Aunt Petunia-!” he foreigned a fight.

“No!” she screeched predictably. “Up to your room! Now! I don’t want to have to look at you the rest of this morning!”

Hanging his head in mock-anger, Harry left the room quietly as he heard Vernon ask what had forced his wife to loose her temper. The wizard smiled once out of the room. Although his aunt had never been particularly kind to him, she had been better than the other two, and ever since seeing her this morning, he could not help but have a grudging respect for her after everything she had done.

Once at the top of the stairs, Harry stopped outside his door. What would he find in there? Would Snape have woken with all the yelling, or would he still be sleeping? If he was awake, would he remember anything about the night before, or would he still be chattering nonsense?

Only one way to find out, Harry thought, and opened the door.

1969

Severus looked down at his hands and scowled darkly. “Why am I so small?” he muttered to himself. If there was anything worse than being a twerp, the boy could not think of any at the moment.

Looking around his bare room, the child sighed, hoping that no one was awake yet. When his father was awake - or pretty much any time- he was nasty. And Severus would be damned before he got caught by his father again. He did not want to see Lily sporting a new bruise on his face. She had already started asking questions.

Hustling out of the attic room, the little black haired boy peeked around the corner of the stairs, praying that he would hear his father snoring. Waiting with ever tense muscles, Severus held his breath as he waited patiently. It was still fairly early in the morning, his father should still be sleeping after being in his drunken stupor last night. The boy winced as the pain in his backside came back to him.

But Severus was thrust from his thoughts when he heard the all too familiar sound of his father’s heavy breathing. Smirking, the little Snape crept down the stairs carefully, making sure he would not hit any of the squeaky boards. Despite being drunk almost constantly, his father was not the normal drunk as even the slightest noise could rouse him. In the back of his mind, Severus wondered why it had to be his drunken father that could not just be dead to the world, like every other bum when passed out.

Ignoring the growling in his stomach and pressing on, the bright obsidian eyes glanced around the room once more before he walked silently to the door. That hadn’t been so bad! For the first time ever, Severus had managed to sneak out of the house without getting caught. That was quite an accomplishment! He’d have to tell Lily th-

“What you doin’ up, eh?” The little color the child did possess drained from his face instantly. Turning around slowly, the small boy looked up to see the furious, haggard face of Tobias Snape. “I asked you a God damn question brat!” the older man shook the child senseless.

“I-I-I w-was j-just gunna g-go out s-side,” Severus shook with terror as he tried to fight off the headache his father had given him.

“What the fuck did I tell you ‘bout bein’ useless, boy!” he father shrieked. “Stuttering like some God damn pussy!”

Severus’s eyes grew wide in horror as he watched his father take off his belt. “P-please sir!” the nine year old pleaded. “I-I didn’t m-mean to be worthless! I-I was just gunna get out of your w-way! Honest!”

“Lying little bastard!” Tobias roared. “I’ll teach you to run away, you fucking little coward!”

Covering his head as best as he could, Severus fell to the floor as his father’s belt rained down from above. He cursed himself for not being braver. He really was a sniveling little coward...

Harry walked into his bedroom to find his professor thrashing about weakly. Rushing over, the young wizard tried to calm the older man, but it seemed that he was lost in some sort of dream, or rather, nightmare. From the looks of it, the terror had to be pretty bad as Harry could not ever remember seeing the hated teacher look so horrified.

A muffled moan escaped the ill man’s lips as his head lulled over to the side. But after a few minutes, the professor calmed again, and Harry was left staring into the hated face of the Head of Slytherin. Why did the bastard have to look so vulnerable? Severus Snape and vulnerable were hardly synonyms that came to mind when speaking of the great and terrible dungeon bat. But then Snape and hurting hardly registered either.

Sighing dramatically, Harry looked over to find Hedwig awake and watching the scene before her. She did not seem to appreciate her master paying more attention to the wizard she had always believed he hated. Smiling unhappily, the Boy-Who-Lived walked up to the cage and stroked the top of the owl’s soft head. “Don’t worry girl,” he cooed. “He’ll be gone soon. I promise. But right now, he needs our help. No matter how disgusting he is,” he muttered the last part under his breath. It truly was a difficult thing to keep up, hatred was.

Deciding that he should check the man’s temperature, Harry walked back over to the still form and placed his small hand upon the white forehead. As expected, the man still had a fairly high fever, but Harry was confident it would break soon. After all, the potions fed to the invalid Snape had made himself, and although it was painful to admit, Snape was a damn good Potions Master.

Frowning in thought, Harry decided that the professor needed some help with keeping the fever at bay. Peeking his head out the door, Harry waited and listened to discover where exactly in the house his relatives where. Not surprisingly, the boy tracked them into the kitchen. Grinning, he left the safety of his room and snuck into the hall, closing the door soundlessly behind him.

The trip to the bathroom was much longer than the young wizard would have liked, but once there, he set to work. He found an old bowl under the sink that had been given to Petunia by her mother and filled it with water as he grabbed several washrags. Let him call me a foolish boy now! Harry thought in triumph as he left the bathroom and started his journey back to safe waters.

There were a several instances when his ill thought out plan had Harry cursing under his breath. The first being when he heard Dudley get up from the table and announce that he was going to go out with friends, but first needed to get a couple things from his room. The second when the full bowl of water sloshed around until some spilled on the floor outside of his room. And the third when he was so distracted about the water mark that he forgot to keep moving and heard Dudley pound up the staircase.

Unable to think of anything to do, the only thought that came across the young Gryffindor’s mind was HIDE! As fast as he could, Harry opened the door of his room with his foot and immediately went for his desk where he set down the bowl of water before running back over to the door and shutting it swiftly. He leaned against the door and waited with baited breath.

The thudding up the stairs evened out and turned into the normal thudding of Dudley’s mass as it moved along the hallway. Harry stood stone still as he hoped his cousin would just thunder past and march right back down the stairs. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

The loud foot steps ceased and Harry stifled a groan. “MUM! DAD! Harry made a mess out here!” came Dudley’s vindictive call.

“Shit,” the green eyed boy sagged against the door.

There came another sound of a chair scrapping against the tile in the kitchen before more booming came. Aw shit! It’s Vernon! Harry panicked.

Uncle Vernon could not come into the room, not with Snape lying there in all of his pale glory! But Harry was supposed to be in his room, and the Muggle would want answers and would therefore barge in. But he simply could not come in! Where was Aunt Petunia when you needed her?

“He spilled something on the floor, daddy,” Dudley’s voice brought Harry back from his panic. Not entirely sure what he was really doing, the young wizard opened the door, stepped out, and closed it again in a blink of an eye.

Both Dursleys seemed surprised at first, but Vernon got over that soon enough. “What’s this then?” he growled pointing to the water mark.

“Water, sir,” Harry answered swiftly.

“What the bloody hell were you doing with water?” the fat man’s face turned purple.

“I was…I was getting my owl some water,” the boy lied well enough.

True to character, Vernon did not seem to like that answer much at all. Before Harry could have done anything to protect himself, the big man swung and caught his nephew with his fist in the side of the face. “Stupid freak!” he spat. “What did I tell you about talking about your unnatural, freaky things?”

“Not to,” the raven haired boy replied quietly, holding the side of his face in pain.

“That’s right!” it seemed Vernon thought he had covered a lot of ground with that declaration. “Now get back into your room! Your aunt doesn’t want to see you, and neither do the rest of us, so get!”

Harry scrambled to get back into the safety of his room. He opened the door only big enough to allow him in before he slammed it closed behind him. He waited, panting, until he heard the unmistakable sound of his uncle locking him in, the first time that summer. One lock, two lock, then three, then four, until the man was satisfied and walked away. Outside, Dudley laughed, as though there was something terribly funny about being belittled and hit.

Unlike all of the other times when Harry had a run in with his uncle, this time the young wizard found that he was not in the least bit angry. In fact, he was totally and utterly relieved! That was it? A quick chastisement followed by a single hit? He’d take that kind of punishment any day! Vernon must have been in a real hurry today or Harry was sure the man would’ve done much more… and much worse.

Closing his eyes and taking a moment just to stand there and breath, Harry calmed his shaking nerves before walking over to the passed out professor. Why was it that Snape could make his life a living hell and not even be awake for it? The man had to have had all of this planned. How else could he so neatly devastate everything in Harry’s path?

Realizing that he was only trying to find excuses to hate the man, Harry sighed once more before pulling up a chair beside the bed and soaked a cloth into the bowl of water. As gently as he could, the boy began dabbing the face of the ill wizard, hoping that cold water would feel good against his inflamed skin. It was actually the first time the boy had seen the Potions Master flush without a murderous glint in his eyes. Truly, the man was just down right scary!

But in an unconscious state, Snape was nowhere near being as big of bastard as he was when he was awake. True, the events this morning were not really the professor’s fault- as far as Harry knew- but Harry could not dismiss the feeling that this was all some big, sinister plot to make him miserable. Something was not right here, and the Gryffindor was determined to find out what it was.

Pulling back the covers some, to dap the neck, Harry’s eyes caught on what looked like a scar on the man’s neck. Unable to stop himself, the boy peeled the blanket down farther until it was resting at the master wizard’s hip. Green eyes went wide in astonishment.

There, on the pale wizard’s neck, was a long, jagged scar that twisted down until it ended in the center of his chest. But that was not all. There were similar scars all over the Potions Master’s body; on his torso, on his arms. What kind of torture had the man been through to earn such stripes? But what really caught Harry’s attention, was the fading tattoo of a skull with a snake coming out of it on the man’s left arm. The Dark Mark.

Horrified, Harry pulled his hand away as though Snape’s skin were made of acid. Snape? Snape was a Death Eater? Sure the Potions Master seemed to fit the stereotype, but still! Was the Slytherin running from the Ministry and that was why he was hurt? Was he, Harry, right now housing a man that would truly kill him once he was well? Did Dumbledore know about this?

Of course Dumbledore would know about this, Harry tried to compose himself and still his racing heart. Yes. Yes, Dumbledore knew about this. The old man knew everything. There was no way that Snape would have been able to hide being a Death Eater for all these years from the Headmaster. Dumbledore had ears everywhere, and seemed to know, even when the Ministry didn’t, just who was to be trusted and who you should keep an eye on.

Wise words, Harry realized. Yes, the Headmaster had been speaking of Snape’s Dark Mark, the old man knew. Snape was almost constantly within Dumbledore’s inner circle and was always called when the old wizard needed help or advice. Perhaps, as crazy as it sounded, that the professor was a spy? It was a thought anyway. A quite plausible thought once you thought about it. Snape was a single, young wizard with an extraordinary gift for potions and the dark arts. He was the perfect fit for the Death Eater mold, but he was also the perfect spy, having no family, as far as Harry knew, and having no close friends to get in the way.

No friends…

A painful jolt in his heart caused Harry to look down at his professor with a new light. The man really did not have any friends did he? The closest that the Gryffindor had come to see was Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster. But then they were co-workers too, which always made such friendships sticky; at least to Harry it would. And with Snape’s prickly manners and sarcastic demeanor, it would not surprise the boy a bit if the Potions Master did not have any friends outside of the Hogwarts staff.

And yet, Harry felt sorry for him. He knew what it was like not to have any friends. Dudley had kept everyone away from him when they were little and had eventually had the whole class calling him a freak or something of the sort. He knew what it was like to be lonely, but why then did Snape not at least try to be civil? Why did he hold everyone had arms length with his sharp tongue and glares? Was there something else there that Harry was just not seeing?

Harry jumped a foot in the air when all of a sudden, Snape sat up with a laud gasp. Large emerald eyes watched as the white of Snape’s eyes turned into a fathomless black pits, and he began to sway in a eerie rhythm.

“The Serpent’s child will shed his skin, the Head of Snakes shall conquer. Where once was light shall be light again, the darkness looses its menace. The hidden face shall be destroyed, the masks will slowly slip away. The forgotten shall be recalled, and hidden secrets all exposed. Betrayal and treachery shall be the road, but loyalty and love shall endure. Only when the crescent moon is high, and the stars are bright is the hour of unveiling. Where once was light, light shall prevail.”

The great baritone voice seemed to shake the room, bouncing off the wall. It was an unearthly sound, Snape’s silky voice, as it thundered in his throat. It pierced the young wizard still against his chair and he was helpless to do anything but listen and stare.

Dumbledore frowned at the boy that was sitting across from him. True, it had been several weeks after Severus Snape had come and begged for the Headmaster’s help to turn him from the path of darkness, but the old wizard still had his misgivings about the Death Eater. The boy fit the mold perfectly for a Death Eater, and his acting was not all that bad.

“What is it now, Severus?” Albus asked curtly, finding he did not have much patience with the boy.

“Sir,” the boy’s deep voice still startled the Headmaster. “The Dark Lord is on the move again. I fear that he is planning an attack in a Muggle neighborhood soon. Where at, I cannot say, as I do not know.”

“Hmm,” the ancient wizard stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Could it be because Voldemort suspects you as a traitor?”

Blue eyes watched intently as the boy flinched at the name. “No, sir. He does not suspect me.”

“Why not?”

At the question, the young wizard’s head snapped up and his usually masked features betrayed insult and fear. “Because of my Occlumency,” he snapped. “He cannot penetrate my shields.”

“Are you so sure?” the Headmaster raised an stern eyebrow. “He is a powerful wizard, Severus, don’t become too overconfident just because you are good, because the chances are that he is better than you. Do not look at me like that,” Dumbledore scowled. “It is not an insult, but it may very well be true.”

“I am not being arrogant,” the raven haired wizard growled. “I am being truthful. I know the Dark Lord cannot penetrate my shields. He has tried on more than one occasion, and I am good enough that he believes me utterly loyal to him. Even before I came to you,” here Snape pinned the older wizard with a powerful glare, “I still have my own secrets I do not want the Dark Lord to find out.”

A thick tension filled the room as the two wizards stubbornly remained quiet. Albus stroked his beard thoughtfully as he watched the angry teenager seethe. So young, so full of hatred. “What secrets?” Dumbledore said at last.

“Damnit old man!” Severus shot up and glared down at the Headmaster. “Things about my childhood, things about people I’ve cared about! Why don’t you trust me?”

“Because you are a Death Eater!” Albus lost his temper and stood up imposingly. “You expect me to trust you when I do not even fully know the reason you’ve decided to suddenly betray your master?”

The boy positively shook with rage as his obsidian eyes glistened dangerously. “You want to know why?” it came out as a quiet hiss, sounding much more menacing than his shouts. “It’s because I can’t kill people anymore. I can’t burn down anymore homes. I can’t watch children plead for their parents’ lives and I can’t watch parents cradling the bodies of their children. I can’t do this anymore, this isn’t what I thought it would be. I can’t keep going around killing people just because they’re Muggle-born! I can’t do it! I won’t hurt Lily!”

The speech was met with silence. Dumbledore stared at the boy in front of him with twinkling blue eyes as Severus realized that he had shared more information than he had planned to. “So,” the Headmaster’s voice softened. “It’s because of Miss Evans that you realized your error.”

“No!” the boy snapped, but then paused. “Not just because of her,” his voice lost its venom.

Sitting down, the curtain of black hair covered the lost and confused face of Snape. Dumbledore followed suit, and sat in his chair, eyes scanning over the child. “Headmaster?” came the quiet plea. “Please believe me when I say I’m sorry.”

That was it. Those words, that tone, that expression was enough to wipe away anymore of Albus’s distrust. Severus was trying, he was really trying. The boy had realized his mistake early and was trying to make amends for his sins. The Slytherin had even accepted the role of spy just so he could help bring an end to Voldemort’s power.

“I believe you, Severus,” Dumbledore said quietly. “But we will need something to go on if we are to win the war.”

Just then, the boy’s eyes turned completely black and he slumped forward. Panicked, Albus, with much greater speed than anyone would have thought, ran to the front of his desk to catch the boy. He’s poisoned! He’s poisoned! Tom knew he was a spy and has killed him! But before these thoughts could solidify into real fear, the boy sat back up.

“A child will be born of the maiden of fire, her emerald flames burning to defy. The child, whose face must be hidden, will thrive. The enemy shall wail, the wrong name he’ll understand, Slytherin’s heir will be lost. The child will hide, a mask he’ll adorn, until the day of the black one’s returning.” With that, Severus fell into the arms of the startled Headmaster, leaving Albus in an uncomfortable position.

The boy had a vision? The boy was a Seer? Why hadn’t he known this?

Waving the boy back into the chair comfortably, Albus ran to his desk and took out a very large, very old tome. It was a book of every prophecy ever uttered in Europe since the first century. The Headmaster had taken it from the Ministry of Magic in the event that Voldemort took over the Ministry, as he had gotten very close to doing.

Flipping the pages until the very last, Albus searched the page, trying to find the words that Severus had uttered only a moment before. When it appeared that it had not been a true prophecy, the page suddenly started to glow and, in green letters, words began to write themselves upon the paper. Staring in amazement, Dumbledore reread through the words Severus had spoken again and again.

Glancing up at the unconscious boy, the Headmaster smiled sadly. “I trust you now,” he whispered gently. “But how ironic that you prophecy about the child of James and Lily.”

Closing the book, Dumbledore transfigured a couch into a bed and laid the tired young wizard upon it, taking off his boots. Severus would never remember his predictions, nor would Dumbledore know that he would unwittingly destroy four young lives in the near future. But such was the way the sight of the Seer worked.

1994

In a panicked frenzy, Harry realized that his professor was sprouting out some kind of prophecy. Someway or another, the boy was able to think clearly enough to grab a pen and paper to write it down. Lucky for him, Snape repeated his litany two more times before his dark eyes cleared into their normal black. Lucky indeed he was, as he had managed to get every word down.

The professor sat still, panting, as he slowly looked about the room. When his shocked eyes fell upon Harry, the boy froze, his insides churning. “Water,” the man croaked, his voice soft, no where near as powerful or as commanding as it had been a moment ago.

Water! the boy’s mind raced as he grabbed for a glass of water only to find, that he had no glass. The man was thirsty! How could he not have thought about a glass of water? Stupid!

“Sir,” Harry turned contrite emerald eyes upon the professor. “I don’t have a glass for you.”

Still not quite in his normal mind frame, Snape glared over to the large bowl sitting on the desk. “Water,” he said again, making his student feel quite idiotic.

“Oh!” the young wizard instantly caught on. He picked up the glass bowl carefully and watched in fascination as the Potions Master held the side of the bowl with his shaking hands and tipped it back gently as he placed his chapped lips upon it. Harry wisely kept his hands around the bowl as well.

Once the man seemed to have had his fill, he slid back down into the covers, shivering. It was only then that Harry realized that the man’s fever had broken. “I’ll…need more…potions,” Snape muttered before he dozed off into a light sleep, as though he were merely a tired boy rather than a seriously wounded man. How could he do that?

Harry stood stone still for a moment, waiting with baited breath to see just what his unpredictable professor would do next. When it became obvious that Snape was just going to continue sleeping, the boy sat back down in his chair by the bed and stared at his teacher, hoping, but not hoping, that the wizard would wake again. Despite all his effort to turn away, the Gryffindor found his insatiable curiosity getting the better of him.

How was it that this man, the great Potions Master of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was a Seer? Hadn’t Snape always been the one that had scoffed Trelawney, calling her a, “bug brained, narcissistic, crackpot that bordered on dementia, because she believed she had visions that are more than likely just hallucinations brought on by some drug or another with her talk of apocalyptic events.” Or it had been along those lines. But if Snape also shared these same gifts, why then did he try to hide it? Harry found himself slightly envious that the man had the Sight while those that wanted, wished for it, were left blind.

“So, what? You’re a potions making, Seeing Death Eater that goes around injured until you come to a student’s house?” sarcasm was coming a lot easier to Harry then it had in the past.

Sighing, the Boy-Who-Lived decided that there was nothing to it but to make sure the adult wizard was comfortable. Snape would need more potions soon, and water. Perhaps when Dudley left the house, Petunia would let him out. Although just yesterday Harry would not have put it past his aunt to lie and break his trust, today the boy just could not believe that about his aunt.

“So what now Professor?” Harry asked quietly. “Not much in the mood for talking anymore? What’s that?" he cupped his hand around his ear. "You don’t even want to take away any points from Gryffindor? Do wonders ever cease!”

The soft hoot from the corner alerted the young wizard that his owl was feeling particularly left out. There was something calming about Hedwig that easily brought a smile to Harry’s lips. She was a beautiful animal and a great companion. Although Ron and Hermione were great, Harry could tell anything to Hedwig without her jumping down his throat or judging him un fairly. She was his best friend.

“I wish I could let you out,” the boy apologized, stroking the soft white feathers as best as he could through the cage. “But I don’t have the…” his thoughts trailed off.

Wait a minute… he did have the key! His aunt had given him her key ring, the one with all the keys to Harry’s stuff! She had been so focused on Snape earlier, that Harry decided not to interrupt and had shoved the key ring into his pocket.

Grabbing the keys out of his pockets, Harry flashed a huge grin at his still Potions Master. “Thanks professor,” he said jovially. “Couldn’t’ve done it with out you!”

Flipping through the keys, Harry found that this task was going to be harder than he had previously thought. There were so many keys that he found himself wondering just how much stuff he really had. Or perhaps they had placed keys to other things here as well?

Whatever the case may be, it took a good five minutes until Harry came out successful. Throwing caution to the wind, the young wizard threw open the cage door. Not wasting a second, Hedwig jumped from her perch and soared around the room, happily hooting every so often. Her flight was so smooth, so graceful, that Harry found himself mesmerized and enchanted; just as he had been the first time he had seen her in flight.

With all he majesty of a queen, the Snowy Owl landed, perched on the backboard of the bed, almost directly above Snape. There was a moment when Harry feared that his pet would do something terrible to his teacher, but instead, the bird simply looked down at the stranger in her house. Holding his breath unconsciously, the young wizard watched as the owl hopped down from her perch and onto the bed next to the professor.

“Hedwig!” Harry felt it once again necessary to whisper. “Hedwig, stop it! Hedwig! I mean it, get away from him!”

But the owl paid him no heed. She simply went about her way, sticking her neck out a long way so that she could look at the unconscious man that had come into her home. In bewilderment, Harry watched as his pet began to lovingly nip at the wizard’s ear, as she so often did with her owner. The little act of love sent a shiver down the Gryffindor’s spine.

Love? How could anyone love Snape? Sure, he could see like…maybe, but love? There was nothing about the man to Harry’s eyes that could make anyone love him. Snape was just so cruel, thoughtless, sarcastic, malevolent, and volatile for anyone to possibly even consider getting close enough to love him. There was something about the thought of loving Snape that…that frightened Harry.

Oh sure, Harry had thought about what it would be like to be loved by his parents, to be loved by a grandfatherly figure, but when his thoughts turned to someone like Snape, he had to pause. If a man like the Potions Master were to love someone, truly love them, would it change them at all? Although it was hard to admit, especially at school, Snape did display the trait of loyalty and commitment. But that was insane. Snape didn’t like anything except making people miserable, potion making, and showing off the dark arts. The professor was a man without a heart.

Just then, the sound of the locks being opened from outside caught Harry’s attention. He turned around to see his aunt in the doorway. Tentatively, she walked in, nervously glancing about. “H-how is he?” she asked.

Glancing back down at Snape, Harry was surprised when he felt a bit of a jolt. It was quite unexpected and the boy found himself shivering because of it. “Fine,” he said after a minute. “He’ll need some water when he wakes up, and some more potions.”

Petunia nodded, her face impassive. “Harry,” her voice was still so gentle. “You’re cousin will be back this afternoon. Will you please go finish the dishes? And then, if you could, could you start scrubbing the couch? I’ll be done in a few minutes, I have… something I need to get.”

Frowning at his aunt for a moment, the young wizard found himself nodding in the end. “Yes, Aunt Petunia.”

Together, the two walked from the room, leaving Hedwig to watch over the sleeping professor. After shutting the door, Harry went down the stairs while Petunia went into her bedroom. Neither one felt the desire to speak.

Once in her own room, Petunia shut the door softly, as though trying not to disturb the things within. She sat down on her bed and stared at herself in the mirror. She looked terrible. Her face was pasty white, her eyes red and puffy, her body still twitching and shaking. She looked horrible and felt even worse. What could be worse than seeing a man that you believed to be dead for almost fourteen years?

Tears filled the woman’s eyes again and she began to cry. “Oh Lily,” she sobbed. “If only you’d known!”

Petunia straightened her skirt nervously for about the twelfth time that morning. She scowled when she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was starting to fall from the bun she had placed it in this morning, after being so rudely awaken by her little sister. Vernon had not been pleased.

“Oh, Tunie!” came Lily’s lilting voice. Turning around, Petunia caught her sister in a hug. “You look so beautiful!” Lily went on.

Unable to keep the scowl on her face, Petunia smiled at her sister as well. “Me?” she laughed. “Look at you!” she held her sister at arms length to get a better look at her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful bride!”

Flashing her brilliant smile, her emerald eyes blazing, Lily twirled around in her white wedding gown. “Isn’t this beautiful?” she asked. “Isn’t everything just perfect?”

Smiling softly, Petunia grabbed her sister’s arm and led her to a chair. “Lily,” she said softly. “I am so happy that you are happy. But-”

“But?” Lily’s indignant reply cut off her sister. “What buts? I’ve never been happier in my life than I am right now. There is no room for buts today. Not ever again!”

Sighing, the older sister looked down at the witch’s left hand. There, resting carefully, was a simple, yet beautiful diamond ring. It had been given out of pure, unadulterated love and respect to Lily only the night before.

“But,” Petunia went on. “Do you think it’s wise to do this? I mean so quickly. You only just decided to marry last night!”

“Isn’t it romantic?” Lily was lost again in her euphoria. “He was so sweet, when he got down on his knees and told me how much he loved me; how much he’s always loved me. Then he slipped this ring on my finger and asked that I be his wife and make him the happiest, proudest man in the world,” she sighed blissfully. “He was so handsome!”

Shaking her head worriedly, Petunia touched her sister’s hand, trying to bring the girl back down to earth. “I know it must have been like a dream for you,” the elder sister nodded her understanding. “But Lil’! You’re only nineteen years old. Besides, does James even know that you broke off your engagement to him? Does he know you’re going to marry Severus?”

With her happiness shattered for the moment, Lily looked over at her sister with raging eyes. “I left him a note,” she said curtly. “I also plan on informing him after I’m happily married to Sev.”

“You can’t break off an engagement with a note, Lily,” Petunia admonished icily.

“I thought you didn’t like him?” the red head responded tartly.

“Lily, don’t fight me,” Petunia growled. “You know it’s not right to run off on any man like this, not even James Potter.”

“I told him not to push me anymore,” the witch’s eye filled with tears. “You know how awful he was to me! The way he degraded me in front of everyone, the way he only wanted me around when he wanted to get some, and the way he got angry when I never did give in to him.”

Petunia’s blue eyes chilled instantly at the declaration. Potter really was a bastard! “I know,” she tried to keep calm for her sister’s sake. “But,” she went on, “all this does seem a bit much, Lily. I mean, last year, even several months ago, you would have defended James with your dying breath, telling mum, dad, and I that we just didn’t understand him. Then several weeks ago you came to me cry about what a mistake it was for even dating Potter! Now, after I’ve spent so much time and effort trying to convince you to end your bloody engagement, Severus suddenly shows up on your doorstep, literally, and you’ve changed your mind and are marrying him the next day?”

Lily had the grace to blush at her sisters rebuke. “I know it all seems like I don’t know what I’m doing, but I do Tunie. I really do! You remember what I’d told you. I just wanted…to hurt Sev by dating James, but that got out of hand. He came to me last night, and I told him I loved him and he told me that he still somehow loved me. So what’s the point in waiting?”

With a heavy sigh, Petunia searched her sister’s face. “I know what it’s like to be married to someone you don’t love,” her voice was thick, but she refused to succumb to tears. “I just don’t want you to rush into this, Lily. Do you really love Severus? You said you had loved James.”

Sitting up tall, squaring her shoulders proudly, Lily looked her sister straight in the eyes, her own filling with tears as well. “Petunia,” her voice was serious. “I love Severus with all my heart. I always have, and I always will. He is the man I want to wake up next to every morning, and see him around every day.”

Smiling watery, the elder Evans girl nodded before hugging her sister. “Then nothing else matters, I suppose,” Petunia whispered. “Now, let’s get you married off!”

Standing up, whipping tears from her eyes, Lily giggled. The red head inspected herself in the mirror her sister had only minutes before, before she smiled. “Mrs. Lily Ann Snape,” her smile brightened. “I like the sound of that!”

Laughing, Petunia hugged her little sister from behind. “We had better hope so! Because I doubt he’d want to be Mr. Severus T. Evans!”

The two sisters burst into laughter before they looked over at the clock. It was time to march down the isle. Lily smiled nervously, but gripped her sister’s hand fiercely. “I’m glad you’re here with me, Tunie. I don’t think I could have done this without you.”

Squeezing her little sister’s hand back, Petunia smiled fondly at her sibling. “I’m glad I’m here too.”

Together they marched out of the waiting room and into the sanctuary, hand and hand. Oh Lily, I hope you will not come to anymore harm with all of your secrets!

1994

The first thing that went through Severus’s mind when began to shift into consciousness was pain. The second response that naturally followed was confusion, which always seems to come about when injured. The final was that he felt annoyance. What was that nibbling on his ear?

Scrunching up his eyes, Severus decided that he did not want to wake up just yet. What had happened to him anyway? Had he been punished again for something stupid? If he had kept a record of how many times he had crawled, sometimes literally, back to Hogwarts after Death Eater meetings just because he had had a disagreement…

The Death Eaters! With the thought came panic, causing the Potions Master to bolt up, only to gasp in pain, a pain that coursed through his abused body. He was then startled by something that hit his head. Whatever it was let out a loud, angry screech. Severus covered his head as best as he could with his arms, praying that this was not some sort of torture game. Lucius could be very creative...

But after a moment of shielding himself, nothing else happened. Confused and irritated, Severus put down his sore arms and instantly caught sight of a very angry looking white owl. As he looked at it, he scowled in bewilderment. Said owl glared right back and let out another screech of indigence.

Raising an eyebrow at the cheeky bird, the wizard turned his sharp gaze about the room. This was definitely not a Death Eater prison, despite the bars on the window. Why were they there? Scowling deeper, Severus’s obsidian eyes looked around to find that it was just an ordinary Muggle room with a broken television in the corner, a single bed, and a desk. Although it was a plain room, the wizard assumed it was just an unkempt guest room. But where was he at again?

Swinging his feet off the bed, his bare feet hit the cool wood, irrupting a sigh from the professor. With the shock of the cold came the rushing back of his memories. Last night there had been a meeting, and he had been discovered. Thanks to sheer dumb luck he had gotten away, and thanks, no doubt, to the Headmaster’s hilarious sense of humor, he had gotten away by bottle cap port key. The old man could have at least told him about the port key…

And here he was, in the home of the glorious Harry bloody Potter, spawn of Satan himself. Why me? the wizard only allowed himself the briefest moment of self-pity before he glanced back at the owl, who was watching him like a hawk… or rather, like an owl… Bloody hell my head’s messed up! Severus scowled at his own thoughts, letting his head fall into his hands.

Taking a few moments to collect himself, the Potions Master tried to stand, only to have it feel as though fire were shooting throughout his body. Grimacing, Severus promptly ignored it in favor of finding out where everyone was. Had Potter the Insolent simply shove him in this room after finding him? That is certainly what it looked like. He probably didn’t even clean out the wounds properly.

There was a moment when Severus thought he would fall back over as he started to sway, but was able to recover himself. He could not look weak, especially here, not in from of Junior Potter and the abominable Petunia Evans. No, Dursley, or something along those lines, the wizard frowned. Oh well, he could figure out all the details later. First things first: where was his cloak?

Scanning the room once more, Severus’s heart began pounding louder and louder in his chest. Where was it? Where was his robes? He had everything in them! Those robes had his potions, his wand, the damnable port key, and many other things that the Potions Master would prefer stayed only in his hands. Had the Death Eaters gotten it? No, no, it was somewhere in the Boy-Who-Should-By-Every-Right-Be-Dead-By-Now’s house. But where?

Frustration turned to anger when the wizard realized that he was still too tired to actually get up and walk around. Sitting back on the bed-carefully- Severus took a moment to take several deep breaths. But when he did, something else sparked in his mind. Looking about the room, the Potions Master got the oddest feeling that he had been here before, in this very room.

His mind flashed broken scenes before him. For just a moment, he could recall laughter, and smiles… There was something white taking up a grand amount of space and flowers, lots of flowers. He could almost recall his hands touching something so soft, it was better than velvet. It had been red. And something pulled at his heart as the strangest sensation of being happy here was almost overwhelming. Something wonderful had happened here, something… better than magic…

But just as the glimpse of a shattered memory came, it left just as soon. A steel door within the professor’s mind slammed shut, keeping him from straying too far into paradise he had but tasted. Now, with a throbbing headache, Severus groaned, cursing himself from letting his mind wander so carelessly. He knew better than that. With a mind as complex and sensitive as his, Severus could not afford to let his mind roam away with frivolous things. What kept the Potions Master sane, but just barely, was work; focus.

Whatever he thought had happened here was probably just some sort of weird dream he remembered with having a fever earlier. Severus knew for a fact that he had never stepped foot inside this house before last night. Hell, he had never even been to Privet Drive in his life! But why then did he feel so strongly about what he had just thought of? What he had just felt?

Scowling, Severus shoved all memories, all feeling aside in hopes that he could locate his missing wand. He really did need it. He wanted to check himself over to make sure Potter the Glorious Brat hadn’t caused any lasting damage when caring for him. Wouldn’t that just be hilarious?

As his mind began to clear, the Slytherin looked down at his hand to find that it had been wrapped up. So that’s why it hurt so bad, he thought darkly. Memories of Lucius Malfoy came to mind and he recalled the murderous glint in those gray eyes. A shiver ran down the professor’s spine at the thought of just how close he had come to being dead.

How could he have been so stupid? Albus had told him not to interfere with normal Death Eater activity, so why had he stepped up last night when similar things had happened in the past and he had stood by and watched? Why had he felt so compelled last evening to throw caution to the wind and act on impulse? That was a very Gryffindor like thing to do, he realized with self-loathing. Where had been his Slytherin cunning? But then again, if his cunning had not been there, he was sure he’d be dead at this time.

Playing with the bandage on his hand, Severus’s mind began its hazardous thinking again. Now that he was no longer a spy, what would that mean for the Order? Would they simply just get a new spy? That did not seem likely or possible, as the Potions Master knew he had been the only one with all of the qualities and suitable past to make the ideal spy. Having been a Death Eater before, and then possessing the rare, but invaluable, gift of Occlumancy combined with skill as a Potions Master and his knowledge of the dark arts had truly been an asset to Dumbledore. The old man had always counted on him, the shadow, the eyes and ears, to bring back valuable information. Having no friends or family had also kept Severus’s mind sharp.

Yet, what did he have after the first war? He was still left with the same things he had had before the war: his Dark Mark, his skills, his loneliness, his bitterness. After the first war, nothing had gotten better for the young spy, it had all gotten worse. Being captured and thrown into Azkaban for six, horrifying months had been enough to make the Potions Master snap. He recalled those dark days, those long, endless evening waiting in dread as the dementors came out... Shivering, Severus tried to block out those memories before they threatened to overwhelm him again.

But what did he have this time around? He had risked his life spying on the same group of power mad wizards for nearly sixteen years, had risked life, limb, and sanity, only to have everything dashed away within less than an hour. True, he hated spying, but what he hated more was the fact that now someone else would have to be found for the job. How would he redeem himself now? He was useless!

Brooding silently, Severus tried to go over every way he could still keep his promise to Lily. He would redeem himself! He had to. Lily would want it, she would expect it! But what could he do now that he was obsolete as a spy? Focus solely on teaching?

The professor snorted at the thought. He did not mind the aspect of teaching, he rather enjoyed that, but what he hated were children. If only he could teach adults rather than children. Would that be any better? Or would that make him even more frustrated? But then maybe teaching was right out anyway since Severus was not a people person… in fact, he hated everyone until they proved themselves in his eyes. Life was just safer that way.

Fully awake now, Severus decided that there was nothing for it but to try and get out of this little Godforsaken room. He did not like the feel of it anymore. For some reason he connected a happier time with this place and he just could not stand that it looked so bare and drab now. Deep down, if Severus would have admitted it, he would have realized that it hurt his heart.

The journey to the door was exhausting, but the Slytherin was determined not to look weak. The owl gave a screech that clearly said, “I wouldn't do that if I were you,” but Severus ignored it and went on. What did a bloody owl know anyway? Especially the bird of Potter the Magnificent?

Once reaching the door, a weight seemed to have been lifted off the professor’s shoulders. He had conquered the length of the room!… Which was a lot smaller now that he had a proper look of it. Damn he hated being hurt! If he could just get to his potions he would be able to help himself recover faster, and that was a priority. He did not want to be stuck here in Potter Land any longer than he needed to be.

Putting a hand out on the wall to steady himself, the wizard pulled open the door. To his surprise, the outside of the door had five heavy looking locks and bolts. What kind of room was this? The windows were barred and the doors overflowed with locks? What, did Potter and Petunia not like the idea of him in the house? Well, probably not, but still! He was not an animal to be caged! The implication that he was feral stung, and the Potions Master vowed himself some sort of revenge.

The owl, no surprise, leaped from her perch and soared about and out the door. Although it had been a cheeky bird, Severus found himself smiling at the sight of her. No doubt she was only angry with being cooped too. The wizard could not blame her, as he too felt the need to be out of that despicable room. But then a new thought came: what if she was not supposed to be out?

Oh well! Severus thought merrily, hoping the bird really was supposed to stay put. It would give him the satisfaction of defending himself, and winning an argument with Potter the Bratty.

When he was out before the stairs was when Severus thought that perhaps he was pushing himself too hard too soon. He hated stairs, just about any kind of stairs. But he always went up and down them everyday.

Sometimes, embarrassingly enough, he froze when he looked down the many steep stairs of Hogwarts and in his own home. It was a long way down to the bottom. Not as long as the stairs in Hogwarts, certainly, but it still quite a distance down. And he had never been on these stairs before. Plus, in his injured state, what if his legs gave out, or something of the sort?

“Damn!” he hissed, backing away from the top of the stairs. Why did he have to be such a coward?

Normally he would have thundered down as quickly as possible, trying to ignore the closing of his throat, and the sweat that poured out, but he could not today. He looked over his shoulder quickly to see if there was anyone there behind him, but there was not. Humiliatingly, his breath started to quicken and his heart racing. He just knew any minute now someone was going to pop out from behind him and push him. He just knew it!

Backing away further still, Severus decided that he was still to weak to brave the stairs for now. It was not a cowardice decision when you were only thinking of your own health, right? That’s what he was doing after all.

Gliding back into the abhorrent little room, the Potions Master was about to close the room when the Snowy Owl flew back in with him. Shutting the door with a silent click, the wizard went back and sat down on the bed. He sighed disgustedly, before letting his head fall back into his hands, in the familiar way it always did. His hair curtained around his face once more, giving him comfort and security, letting him believe the outside world could not see him.

Again, a little nip on his ear and then on his hair brought Severus around. He looked over to his right to see the white owl sitting on his knee, looking up at him with concerned amber eyes. Just the barest hint of a smile formed on the man’s lips as he stroked the bird’s soft, downy feathers. “So what do you think?” he mumbled softly. “Are you laughing at the fact that the great Severus Snape is afraid of stairs?”

The owl hooted sympathetically. “Ah!” the wizard nodded. “You pity me. Do not pity me, I cannot stand anyone’s pity!” The owl cocked her head. “Ah, well, perhaps you can secretly, my little friend, but do not let me find out about it. I have a reputation to uphold, you know. I cannot afford to look weak!”

When the owl hooted merrily, Severus’s smile broadened. “Thank you for understanding, my friend. This is the most intelligent conversation I have had in a long time.”

When the owl began to snuggle up close to him, and rub her head gently up against his good hand, Severus could not help but feel his heart warm, if only slightly. Leaning back up against the wall, Severus stoked the bird unconsciously, enjoying the feel of feathers against the palm of his hand. Although he was certainly pathetic, he did not have to let anyone else know. His secret was between himself and the owl.

Severus walked timidly up to the stairwell. He was annoyed with himself for shaking so much. It was just the stairs, after all. He was not a baby. He would not cry!

Unfortunately, the child had been focusing so hard on getting down to the bottom, he did not hear the slight squeak of his parents’ bedroom door. He did not hear the heavy breathing that tried to still itself, or the normally heavy booted foot that worked to silence itself. All the boy could hear was his own thoughts encouraging him along the way down.

“Brat!” came a loud shout from behind, startling the child enough for him to loosen his grip of the rail. The next thing the tiny child knew was that something hard pushed against his back and then he was falling down the stairs at a frightening speed.

It seemed every part of his body connected with some part of the stairs, and the child’s body lit up with pain. Several times, Severus could have sworn that he had heard sick cracking noises, alerting him that he more than likely had broken bones. He hated the stairs! He hated them!

When he landed on the main floor, in a crumpled mess, was when Severus heard the cruel laughter of his father. Tobias descended quickly and stood over his son laughing. “You might be a worthless little shit!” he howled. “But damn can you be fun at times!”

It was lucky for the boy that his father did not see the tears streaming down from his eyes. It was lucky that Tobias did not hear the sniffles or see the shaking. Trying to untangle himself was torturous and useless, so the boy had to wait until his mother got back home. Although she was not the best mother, she at least would not let his father kill him.

Whimpering softly, Severus looked back up the stairs he had just come from and shuttered, eliciting more agony on his broken body. It would be several hours before his mother came home to fix him up. Several hours that he laid there looking at the abusive steps. From that day on, Severus Snape vowed to be more alert, more cautious, and prayed that one day, he would have enough power so that no one would ever hurt him again.

1981

As the night grew darker and the fog hung thick in the air, Lily Potter walked through the Muggle streets of Privet Drive. Upon coming to number four, the young witch of twenty looked down into her arms. Harry was still sound asleep. A sad smile graced her lips and her emerald eyes shown with unshed tears. He really was all she had left.

Knocking on the door, the Gryffindor waited, hoping that someone would answer. After another knock, the door opened to reveal Vernon Dursley’s bulky frame. He was gaining much too much weight. “What do you want?” he spat.

Scowling darkly at her brother-in-law, the witch pulled out her wand and pointed it at the fat man. “Careful Vern,” her voice was deadly. “How terrible it would be for you to die when your son’s not even two.”Blanching, Dursley wisely stepped aside for his wife’s sister to enter. Without further invitation, Lily swept past Vernon and went into the parlor. This place still pained her to look at. “Petunia?”

Sitting by the fireplace, the blond woman looked up from feeding Dudley at the sound of her name. “Lily!” she exclaimed in surprise. “Lily, what are you doing here? Come in! You look dreadful.”

Without hesitation, the younger sister did as she was told and sat close to her sister. Instantly tears began streaming from her tired eyes and she rocked her little Harry back and forth in her arms gently. “I…I don’t know what I’m going to do, Tunie! I just don’t know!” she whispered softly.

Waiting until Vernon had gone completely up the stairs, Petunia set Dudley down safely on the couch, making sure he would not roll off. Then, kneeling before her sister, Petunia looked into the anguished face of her younger sister. “What is it, Lily? What’s wrong?”

Looking up, Lily’s eyes were so broken and she looked visibly five years older than her sister. “Petunia…if I…if I died, would you look after my baby?”

Horrified, Petunia shot back away from her sister, as though the girl had tried to hit her. “If you died?” she repeated in disbelief. “Lily I don’t think that-”

“Well Sev died!” the witch spat bitterly, more tears falling form her eyes. “He was younger than I am now…only a year ago…He was so young…”

Throwing her arms around her sister, Petunia felt her own eyes sting. Had it been one year ago today that Severus had died? It must be so, Lily would not forget. That’s probably why she was here, she needed someone that understood her, someone that knew the truth. “Oh, my dear Lily!” Petunia kissed the top of her sister’s hair. “You are not going to die!”

“You don’t know that,” she said sulkily. “Dumbledore… he told James and I of this…this prophecy. He said that we were supposed to go into hiding soon. That…that the Dark Lord was going to come after us… after my baby.”

Terror spiked through Petunia’s heart for her sister and nephew. “What?” she could not believe what she had been told. “Lily, why would this Dark Lord want Harry?”

The young mother looked down into the face of her sleeping child. She grimaced at the tiny face, her heart breaking every time she looked upon it. “Because he believes that my son will grow up to defeat him,” the resentful tone was openly displayed. “He already took my Severus away from me and now he wants my Harry! I just can’t take it anymore!”

“Lily,” Petunia grasped her sister’s shoulders firmly. “Lily, don’t talk like that. You act as though you’re sure this…this Hitler is going to win!”

“I certainly hope he won’t,” Lily said, her normal ferociousness coming out. But then, all too quickly, it died back down into dwindling embers. “But Petunia, if something were to happen to James and I, I want you to take care of Harry for me. Please!”

Petunia found herself nodding. “Of course Lily.”

“And I want you , when he’s old enough and is able to understand magic better, to give him these,” she balanced Harry carefully as she took out several tiny objects from her pocket. With a swish of her wand, she was able to make them grow into their original sizes.

Enchanted, the Muggle woman watched as a journal and many little vials with a swirling, white, silver substance swished around. It looked too light to be water, but was much too heavy to be air. There were also several other documents that unshrunk and were now lying out by the journal. “W-what is all this?” Petunia’s eyes were wide with wonder and a bit of fear.

“Things for Harry,” Lily replied flatly. “These,” she motioned to the vials while resettling her sleeping baby, “are my memories. I want Harry to have them should I not be around. When he goes off to school, he’ll learn how to use them.

“This,” she went on, pointing to the document, “is his real birth certificate and other such registration. In this journal,” Lily’s sharp green eyes had her sister squirming, “is a letter. I want you to give it to Harry when you think he’s old enough. Only after you give him this letter are you to give him the rest of these things. Do you understand?”

Nodding numbly, Petunia stared at all of the belongings Lily had brought and listened intently as she went through what was what. “Vernon can’t find out about these,” she said after her sister was finished.

Carefully, Lily took her wand and floated a nearby jewelry box over to where she was sitting. Then, shrinking everything back down into miniscule proportions, she send each tiny piece of inheritance into the box. When she closed it, she tapped it three times with her wand. The little inlayed wooden box glowed blue for a moment before fading back down into its normal colors.

“When you open this box,” Lily said gently, giving it back to her sister, “the items within will unshrink when you take them out. Hide this box away to keep it safe and Vernon will never find it.”

At last, tears began to stream down Petunia’s face as well. “Lily, you’re not dead. You won’t die,” her voice cracked.

“But what if I do?” Lily insisted pleadingly. “Severus always told me to be prepared if he never came back. He had set up everything so I would be well if he died, but I was foolish enough not to take his warning to heart. And now he’s dead,” her voice hitched in her throat. “I…I don’t want my baby to be as unprepared as I was. I had told Severus I would be ready…I wasn’t…”

“Oh Lily,” once again, Petunia put her arms around her sister and rocked her gently. “I’ll tell Harry. When he’s old enough. I’ll tell him everything!”

Hugging her sister back as best as she could without jarring her child, Lily wept softly. “Thank you, Petunia. Thank you so much!”

They stayed that way for a few eternal moments before Dudley began to cry, demanding his mother’s attention once again. Picking up her heavy little boy, Petunia watched with worried, sad eyes as her little sister stood up to leave. She really did look dreadful.

“You’re not going, are you?” Mrs. Dursley asked, concern leaking from her voice.

Smiling watery, Lily nodded. “I need to get back home before James does. I couldn’t leave with him still home.”

Ushering her red-headed sister to the door, Petunia stopped the witch before kissing her on the forehead. “Take care of yourself Lily. Promise?”

A weak smile came through as Lily shifted Harry in her arms. “Always,” she nodded before squeezing her sisters hand.

Petunia watched as her sister was enveloped by the fog, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. “Promise?” she whispered again before turning around and closing the door behind her.

Harry Potter walked up the stairs after hearing several noises that he could have sworn came from his bedroom. Hopefully Hedwig wasn’t being a pest. That was all he needed, for his owl to start making a commotion just because she could not fly downstairs. She should be glad! At least she was out of her cage!

Opening the door to his room, Harry was startled to see Professor Snape leaning against the wall, his hand resting on his studnet's owl while the Snowy looked content. Not quite able to believe the scene before him, the young wizard looked out the door towards his aunt’s room, but she had not come back out yet. But when he turned back around, he jumped when he saw Snape’s obsidian eyes watching him, much like a carnivorous animal. Harry felt particularly weak and vulnerable under such a powerful gaze.

Rubbing the back of his neck unconsciously, the Gryffindor took a step forward. “Um,” always a lovely way to start off, “how are you feeling, sir?” he asked awkwardly.

How do I feel? Severus scowled. Like shit, you little shit! Oh how he pined to say something of the sort to the worthless little brat before him, but the professor wisely kept his mouth shut. “Where are my robes?” he asked instead. After three years of teaching the thickheaded boy, Severus had learned the hard way that the best way to get through the child’s dense mind was to be blunt.

“Uh, robes, sir?” Harry frowned.

How could Lily have produced such an imbecile child? “Yes, Potter,” he spat the name like a curse. “Robes. You know, the things you dress in when you attend Hogwarts?”

Blushing angrily, the young wizard mumbled something under his breath while finding his shoes interesting. “I know what they are…sir.”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Snape snapped, working his frustration out on the boy. “If you don’t want people to speak to you like this, then grow a brain for Merlin’s sake!”

Ah, Harry thought. So that’s why I hated him so much. Funny that he had actually started to forget. “You know, instead of insulting me, you could thank me for taking you in and saving your life,” he bit out, trying his hardest to be civil. After all, Snape would remember everything that was said once school came around agian. The man was wonderful at holding grudges. 

“I could,” the man drawled. “But then again, I think you owed me after all the times I chased your scrawny arse everywhere at school, trying to keep you safe.”

Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming. How could this man be so infuriating? It was not surprising that the man didn’t have friends! Who could stand to put up with this kind of treatment all the time? Mother Teresa could not have even handled this! It was hopelessly impossible!

“Your robes,” the boy tried to keep his voice calm, “are down stairs, I think. Aunt Petunia put them away. I’m not exactly sure where they're at.”

Glowering fiercely, Snape stood up, inch by inch, and unknowingly, looked far more intimidating to his student as he was forced to watch the man rise. Now standing, Harry was surprised to see the man before him. Although he would have never called the Potions Master fat by any means, Harry now saw just how thin the wizard was.

Where Harry had always thought that the man had more rounded shoulders, he now saw that Snape had rather broad shoulders for his body type, that were squared powerful. The man that they had always thought sickly, actually was toned and more muscular than his students would have cared to believe. For some reason Snape’s body reminded Harry of a professional swimmer’s, with his skinny frame, and lean muscles. Now wonder the Potions Master had the stamina he had; Snape was fit!

“Show me,” came Snape’s command, and the young wizard found himself jumping to comply. Damn, he hated it when he could not even stand up to the greasy git’s bossing around. Why was the Head of Slytherin so frightening?

It was only after walking from his room and at the top of the stairs that Harry really remember that his professor was injured. Now that they had stopped by the stairs, the boy looked back to see the Potions Master leaning against the wall, his chest heaving. Maybe he should have just gone to get it if the man was this tired already? He did look tired, but determined. “Do you need to take my arm, sir?” he was not even sure what compelled him to ask.

Looking up, Snape’s face shown with disgust. “I don’t need your help,” he growled and promptly took hold of the railing. He quickly spun his head around though, making Harry stop. “Let me go a couple steps ahead,” he ordered angrily. “I don’t want you stepping on my heals,” he added quickly after.

Cocking his head to the side in confusion, Harry nodded. “Sure,” he shrugged. What had that been about?

But as promised, he let the professor get several steps ahead before following slowly down. Maybe Snape thought that Harry would go too fast and accidentally trip him? But why would the man believe that? Especially after the young wizard had offered to help him down? There was just no telling with Snape.

Once down the stairs, Snape leaned against the post and took several deep breaths. Again, unbiddingly, Harry felt a pang of pity for his professor. Although it was hard to admit it, especially of Snape, the young Gryffindor did admire that kind of determination. He knew what it was like to not want to look weak in front of everyone watching. Perhaps Snape was just as horrified with the thought of being helped as Harry was on occasion? Possibly.

“Come in the kitchen, and I’ll get you something to drink,” Harry offered.

Remarkably, the professor only nodded and followed. Where was his snark now? Probably all his energy went into his legs so he would not fall over. Harry understood that too.

Going slowly to accommodate the injured man, Harry opened the door to the kitchen for the wizard and then pulled out a chair for him to sit in. Snape glared at all of the younger wizard’s actions, but said nothing. Still too tired I guess, Harry shrugged it off. He was sure the man would have plenty of insults for him later when he was feeling better.

Quickly getting a glass of water, the boy set it before his teacher before looking for the missing robes. As expected, Petunia hid them under the stairs with all of Harry’s belongings. Grabbing the black cloth and several of his own potions, the young wizard went back into the kitchen to find Snape watching him with those unnervingly black eyes. Why did the man always have to do that?

Instantly snatching up the robes once offered, Severus dug into his pocket until he found his beloved wand. He felt the familiar spark of magic it released when he grabbed it. Now soothed over that panic, Severus looked over at the vials the boy was setting before him. “What kind of potions are these?” he asked candidly.

“Professor Dumbledore gave them to me,” Harry said defensively. “They're labeled.”

Idiot boy thought that Severus was insulting him. What a stupid boy! Sending a nasty scowl over to Potter the Stunningly Imbecilic, the Potions Master looked each vial over before deciding which ones to take and which ones would be of absolute no use. So this is where all my potions went that you wanted, eh Albus?

Once finished taking shot after shot of potions, Severus took a long gulp of water to wash it down. Even after all these years, after taking more potions in his young life than even Dumbledore, the Potions Master still found the taste terrible. But none of his private thoughts showed on his face. To the outside world, Severus was indifferent, and cold. He preferred it that way.

It was when he was taking out his wand that Severus noticed a dark spot on Potter’s face. Frowning, he cocked his head to the side to try and get a better look. “Come here,” he ordered sternly.

Amazingly, Potter complied without a single grumble of complaint. Reaching out his long arm, Severus caught the boy’s face in his hand. The boy tried to fight him off, but the professor held on and turned the child’s head to find a dark, nasty bruise forming on his cheek. The indents of a fist could be seen.

Shocked, Severus allowed the boy to pull away from his grasp. “What did you do to your face?” he asked angrily. But he was not angry with Potter, but rather that someone would hit the child.

Familiar green eyes went wide in panic before they calmed slightly. “You know,” he shrugged. “I hit my face this morning on the desk rolling over to get out of bed.”

Instantly alert, Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Don’t lie to me, boy,” his voice dropped into a menacing softness. “Who hit you?” But before Potter could protest, Severus cut him off again. “Don’t try to fool me, I know what I’m looking at! Who hit you?”

Emerald green eyes filled with shame, telling the professor almost all he needed to know. Someone close to the boy had done this. At that moment, Petunia walked in and froze upon seeing her nephew looking down at the tile floor silently, while the looming black presence of Severus sat in a chair.

“S-Severus!” Petunia blanched once more. “How-how are you feeling?”

The man looked older than Petunia remembered, but then it had been fourteen years. His hair was still the same length, his skin still the same pale, but with more of the slightest hint of green. When she looked into his eyes is when she stopped. Although they had always been dark, the eyes staring at her now looked dead, utterly lifeless. There was no spark, no glint in them; just a dark void of nothingness.

“Petunia,” his low voice boomed in the Muggle’s ear. The voice was so cold.

Scuttling into the kitchen with her nephew, Petunia took the wizard’s empty water glass and began to refill it. Tears formed in her eyes; angry, bitter tears. She could not help that her hands started shaking again.

Walking over to the table, she set down the glass. When Severus looked at her, just the barest hint of dislike on his severe features was enough to set her over the edge. Without warning, she drew back her hand and slapped the wizard across the face; hard.

Harry watching with wide eyes horror as his aunt struck Snape across the face. The boy felt ill as he expected to see his aunt murdered before his eyes. It was one thing dreaming about hitting the Potions Master across the face, but it was something else entirely actually doing it. What had gotten into her today? Did she want to die?

Severus was just as surprised as Harry with his old playmate’s behavior. Turning his head back slowly, his temper at its peak, he stood up, looming over Petunia. “What the hell was that?” he hissed, grabbing her shoulders.

“That’s for Lily, you bastard!” she screeched. “How could you not tell her you were alive?”

His heart in agony, Severus pushed the woman away from him roughly, not even wanting to touch her. “Why the hell do you care?” he spat. “You didn’t even like her.”

Balling her hands up into fists, Petunia’s face perfectly matched her husbands usual purple when he was angry. “I loved my sister!” she declared. “Which is more than I can say about you!”

“Enough!” Snape thundered, all of the windows and light bulbs shattering with his uncontrolled rage. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner!” his voice dropped into a frightening whisper. Every child at Hogwarts could have told you that a bellowing Snape was better than a whispering one. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing!”

Although it was clear that she was terrified, Petunia somehow managed to stand her ground. Lifting her chin in defiance, she did her best to glare at the wizard before her. “She loved you, you sick bastard! Why didn’t you tell her you weren’t dead?”

“Loved me!” Snape laughed mirthlessly. Harry backed away carefully. He had never seen his professor so angry in all of his years at Hogwarts. Not even when Sirius had gotten away before the end of term. “Oh yes, I could tell how much she loved me! That’s why she married Potter, right? Because she loved me so much?”

At this, Petunia looked just about as angry as Snape did. “Well she wouldn’t have married him had you told her you were alive!”

“Enough of this!” the wizard boomed again. “I’m not getting into this with you,” he growl condescendingly. “Besides,” he could not let the argument go, “If she loved me so much, why didn’t she speak to me before she got herself engaged to Potter? Why didn’t she contact me before she married that lousy piece of shit!”

“Hey!” Harry felt compelled to stick up for his father, but could not get another word in as the adults were not finished.

“What the hell are you talking about?” his aunt asked, very un-lady like, her icy eyes clouding with confusion. “You two talked before her marriage.”

“Hardly,” Severus snapped bitterly. “Perhaps two words were exchanged, but that was the extent of it.” He sank back into his chair, tired from his burst of magic. “Why are you even getting into this,” he glanced up suspiciously, having forgotten that Harry was in the room. “Trying to rub salt in the wounds?” he accused. “You know as well as I do and everyone else that she loved James.”

Standing tiredly next to the table, Petunia leaned against it for support, having tired herself out as well. “I don’t know why you don’t remember,” she stared down into the livid face of Severus. “But would it surprise you to learn that Lily never loved James?”

At both Severus’s and Harry's shocked faces, she went on. “I see,” she said quietly. “Would it surprise you further to learn that Harry is not really James’s son, but yours?”

1980

“Push, Mrs. Potter, push!” a motherly nurse instructed.

“I’m trying!” Lily screamed, agony lightening her eyes.

All of the nurses and the doctor came in, and exactly five hours and twenty-two minutes after she had began to go into labor, Lily was officially a mother. Tears streamed down her eyes the moment the pain ceased, and she could not keep her joy and excitement down for long. “It’s a boy!” came the elated declaration, and the new mother could not keep from crying harder.

“Let me see him!” she begged, wanting to hold in her arms that which had taken so long to come. This baby was all that she had left.

After cleaning up the little bundle, through the shouts of dismay on the infant's part, the doctor placed the fleshy pink baby onto his mother’s chest. The first thing noticed about the child was his already thick, black hair, and his startlingly green eyes that were so similar to his mother's own. When the child looked into the face of his mother, Lily felt a spark shoot through her body. It was known as the parental link in the wizarding world, and she had been expecting it, but that spark? It was breath taking. “He’s perfect!” she sobbed, smiling down at the baby even as a pang of grief hit her heart.

Grinning broadly, the doctor nodded happily. Another safe delivery! “We’ll let you two to get acquainted,” he smiled once more before he and the rest of the nurses left the room.

Once the door closed, Lily began weeping uncontrollably. She smiled, she laughed, she was so happy, yet she was so miserable. This was supposed to be one of the happiest days of her life, she knew, everyone told her so, and Lily would have believed it too if only her Severus was here! The thought of him had her crying harder still.

When she was able to see her child’s face clearly, after wiping her tears away, Lily gasped. She was staring into the infant face of Severus Snape. Even just born, the witch could tell that this baby boy would grow to take on his father’s more striking features. There would be no denying that the child was the son of her beloved Severus Snape. Scanning the face of the baby, Lily could detect every hint of her late husband in her son’s face. It was both joyous, and grievous.

“My, my,” the mother cooed, sniffling. “You will grow to be a handsome one, won’t you?”

Carefully, Lily cradled her little baby, and allowed her son to feed, rocking back and forth. Again, another spark of familiarity shot through the tired mother. Yes, this was her son, this was hers and Severus’s. Sev would be so proud! She could just see his face, alight with wonder and love, the way she always loved to see…

Again, tears began to flood from Lily’s eyes. This was Severus’s son, this was his son, not James’s! She longed to tell the world, she longed to scream on a mountain top that this was her child with Severus Snape, not that glory-seeking bastard James Potter.

At that moment, a nurse came back into the room and saw Lily clutching her baby desperately. The old woman smiled kindly. “He seems taken with you,” she laughed lightly. But when she noticed that Lily was crying due to distress and not from overwhelming joy, she was at the younger woman’s side in an instant. “Oh deary! What’s wrong?”

“I-I j-just w-w-want m-my husband!” the red-head sobbed dejectedly.

Taking pity on the despairing young woman, the nurse rubbed Lily’s back as well as she could. “Don’t worry, deary,” the woman crooned gently. “Not to worry. I believe I heard someone say that Mr. Potter was on his way here right now! Don’t worry, he’ll be here soon.”

Lily just wanted to scream. She wanted to stomp her feet, she wanted to break everything, she just wanted to be left alone! She did not want James, she wanted Severus! But no one seemed to understand this. But then, no one was supposed to know the truth.

Mopping the tears from her watery eyes, Lily tried to smile at the nurse, but it was only given half-heartedly. “Thank y-you,” she tried to sound as though she really cared if James was there or not. “Where is the birth certificate?” she asked instead.

Smiling once more at the mother and son, the nurse conjured the certificate, and took out all the creases with her wand. "There you are my dear,” she patted Lily’s shoulder. “And here is an inkwell and a quill for when your husband comes so you can sign the names in.”

When the old nurse was gone, Lily ceased the certificate and quill instantly. In her flowing handwriting, she signed her own name in the shining green ink. Taking a deep breath, the witch signed her husband’s name, Severus Tobias Snape, before spelling it to look like his own handwriting. He would want everyone to know that this was his son. Seeing the sharp, spidery handwriting made Lily want to cry, but she did not want to smudge the ink.

And finally she came to the line where she had to fill in the child’s name. She had thought long and hard about this, had taken into consideration the names Severus had said he liked and disliked. Since the child looked so much like his father, the name she had chosen only seemed fitting now. It would make Severus so proud!

With that thought in mind, Lily wrote down the name, just she had decided months before the baby had been born. In the same flowing green ink, the mother wrote out the name, “Severin Harrison Tiberius Snape.” The parchment glowed for a moment before it faded into the parchment before reappearing, signaling that it certification was complete.

Once she was sure that the real name was protected, Lily cast several charms on the parchment before she wrote down the false name James had wanted. With a quick scrawl, she left her name, but wrote James’ name and then the name the child would, unfortunately,have to live with for a while. “Harrison James Potter.” It did not sound as pleasant on her ears as the other one did.

Not a moment later, James burst through the door. “Is he out yet? Is my son out?” the wizard shouted loudly.

Scowling at the vulgarity of the words, and the fact that James claimed Severus’s son as his own, Lily had to look away. Pushing back her feelings, Lily tried to smile at the man she had been forced to marry. “Come see little Harrison,” she invited.

Bouncing over to the bed, James was all smiles when he leaned over Lily to inspect the new life cradled in his wife’s arms. But one glance at the baby, James’s smile turned into a concentrated frown. “He’s all…ugly and squish,” he comment flatly, angering his wife. “He’ll get less red and stuff, right?”

Scowling at her husband, Lily tried to keep calm. “He was just born, James,” she tried to be patient. “He’s still a little puffy. He’ll fill out soon though. Where were you anyway?” she glanced up suspiciously.

Annoyingly, James merely shrugged. “I was with Sirius,” he said offhandedly. “I guess I thought you’d take longer.”

That was it! That was the final straw! “Potter,” she growled. “Get out. I don’t want you in here you inconsiderate jerk. Out. Just get out!”

The doctor rushed back in when Lily’s monitors went off, indicating her rising blood pressure. When James refused to leave at Lily’s request, the doctor escorted the wizard from the room, saying he could wait until his wife had calmed down. “I will not allow anyone to upset my patient,” he said bluntly. “Not even her own husband.”

Once alone again with her baby, Lily began to cry once more. How had she gotten into this? Why had she listened to Dumbledore and gone back to James? Because you panicked, she thought bitterly. But what could she have done? She could not support a child on her own, and people would start asking questions about who the boy’s father was, questions that she preferred not to answer.

Looking into the baby’s face, Lily smiled gently. “I suppose I should start calling you Harrison,” her words, despite her anguish, dripped with affection. “My little Harry. Don’t worry, someday soon you’ll get to have your real name and learn about your real father.”

Closing her eyes tiredly, Lily did not want to worry about the next day. She did not want to face James, or that despicable Sirius Black. She did not want to see the Headmaster; she did not really want to see anyone. All she wanted to do was take her baby away from everything, to a place where they could be happy, to a place where Severus was alive to take care of them.

With that in mind, she drifted off into sleep, not realizing that a nurse came to take Harry away.

Had it not been such a tense situation, or perhaps because it was, Petunia had to fight off laughter. Sitting and standing by her, wearing identical shocked, horrified faces, were her nephew and her former brother-in-law. She knew that had Harry not been magicked to look like James, the faces would have mirrored each other perfectly.

“What?” surprisingly, Harry was the first one to recover from the ordeal. “Snape’s not my father!” the boy shouted. “James Potter’s my father!” desperation leaked into his voice. “This can’t be happening!”

When Petunia looked back over at the older wizard, she was surprised, and terrified, to see that the Potions Master’s face had twisted into something murderous, his black eyes glinting with rage. “S-Severus?” she backed away from him.

“That’s not very damn funny!” he whispered venomously.

Pushing back her own fears, Petunia turned to both wizards. “This isn’t a joke,” she said lightly. “It’s the truth. Although I don’t know why you don’t remember,” she said again to Severus, “you and Lily were actually married several months before you died.”

While Harry just looked ill, Severus’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I do not recall any of those memories,” his deep voice pensive, yet also doubtful. “You have proof of this, yes? Or are you just trying to have some sort of sadistic fun out of all this?”

“How can you be so calm!” Harry shrieked at his professor. “She’s trying to feed us the huge piece of shit, and you’re taking the bait just like that? What’s wrong with you?”

“Mind your tone, boy,” Snape growled, causing the younger wizard to back down a little. “This is... absurd, we both know that, but I want to know why your aunt seems to think it’s necessary to say such things,” he turned expectant, cold eyes upon the woman before him.

Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, Petunia shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I’m not lying!” she pleaded desperately. “I-I do have proof!”

“And what would that be?” Severus hissed. “Petunia, I have absolutely no idea why you’re doing this, but I can assure you that this in not amusing in the least,” his scowl darkened. “Whatever possessed you to come up with this atrocity was in bad taste. Now, you will shut your mouth, or I shall shut if for you.” Neither Petunia or Harry doubted the man’s words.

“I’m not lying!” Petunia started to panic. “Here!” she pulled out a small inlayed wooden box that Lily had given her from Spain. “It’s all in there.”

Taking out his wand, Severus snatched up the box, while Harry scurried over, just as eager to see what was inside. When Snape opened the lid and shook out the contents, the two wizards and the Muggle watched as each object grew instantly. Harry’s face lit up with dreaded wonder while the Potions Master’s face was grim. Both men’s thoughts had the same question; what was all this?

Something on the table caught Severus’s eye and he picked it up cautiously. It was a ring, a small diamond wedding ring. It was simple, yet elegant, instantly reminding the Potions Master of his beloved Lily. Carefully inspecting it, his eyes widened and his breath caught as he read the words on the inside of the band:

“My love for you is eternal. I will always love you. Always.”

As though a damn broke loose, Severus’s mind was assaulted with many different images. He saw a dark rainy night; he was with Lily, she told him how much she loved him. There was a image of a simple, quiet wedding. Lily floated down the isle, her face glowing. He saw himself in the room he had woken up in this morning, only it was very nice and well kept, he and Lily were lying in bed together. There was a memory of spending the afternoon in the Lake District, a memory of meeting up at Hogsmeade. That night when he had gone to Dumbledore to tell him about his marriage…

“Oh God!” Severus exclaimed, his head pounding uncontrollably.

It had been Dumbledore! It had been Albus! As sickening as it was to believe, it had been his mentor, his friend that had betrayed him. The spy could see everything clearly now; the look on the Headmaster’s face when Severus had told him the truth, the man’s disappointment, the pain, the betrayal…

“Severus!” Petunia’s voice floated into the wizard’s thoughts. “Severus, are you alright?”

The Potions Master snapped his head up, not remembering slumping over, looking around with wild eyes. When the obsidian fell on the boy who had stay unnaturally quiet, his heart jumped into his throat. Potter…this boy, was his? This duplicate of James was really Severus’s son? The wizard did not think he had ever felt so ill in his life.

So was that why he had felt a jolt every time he had seen the boy, ever since first year? Was it supposed to be the all famed “parental shock” that all the housewives so firmly believed in? Was that what it was? Severus had always thought it was just some sort of bitter jolt that reminded him of how he had lost Lily. He had thought it had been created by hatred, but had it been this odd parental bond?

“Bloody hell!” the man growled, his hair falling into his face once again. He just needed to think. This was not possible, this simply could not be possible. But with each passing minute, more and more memories came flooding back to him, making the truth harder and harder to ignore.

Harry had watched silently as his professor picked up a small ring to look over. It was beautiful, and he could see why his mum must have loved it, but when Snape’s face lit up with recognition, the younger wizard had fought illness. Dear Merlin! The man remembered these things, he remembered! That meant…

The boy could not believe this, he simply could not believe that he was the son of the hated Potions Master, the Head of Slytherin! This was impossible! This was ludicrous! This was… true?

Collapsing in a chair, Harry stared at the other objects on the table. He shuffled them around until his eyes caught sight of a birth certificate. Snape looked up at that moment, but the Gryffindor ignored him for the most part in favor of reading what was on the paper.

There, written in brilliant green ink, was the name, “Severin Harrison Tiberius Snape.” Harry gasped, Snape made a odd noise in the back of his throat. Both men looked up. Emerald met obsidian, a spark of recognition passed between the two wizards.

“Oh bloody hell!”

1980

Through the dark forest, pressing on against the wind that raged against him, Severus Snape rushed into the castle of Hogwarts, his mind spinning with the news he had just heard. He would not believe it; he could not believe it! This was not supposed to happen! This was…this was too much.

Stalking in from the dreary night, Snape thundered through the halls of his former school, his robes billowing impressively behind him. Tonight they were the wings of dread, the wings that brought ill tidings. Growling, seething, Severus just hoped that the old man he was delivering this news to did not already know what the younger wizard wanted to report. Merlin save the Headmaster if he did know!

Striding up to the gargoyles in his neck-breaking sped, Severus did not slow down his pace. “Lemon sherbet,” he snapped and instantly, the little gargoyles hurried to do the man in black’s bidding. It was at these times, especially at night, that the Potions Master looked nothing short of a vampire.

Climbing the stairs three at a time, the young wizard did not even slow when he came to the door. Slamming the old wooden door open, Severus only stopped once before the Headmaster’s desk. The strangest sense of déjà vu crept into the younger wizard’s mind, but he promptly ignored it in favor of glaring at the Headmaster.

When Albus finally decided to look up, he smiled brightly at the young man. “Severus!” the old man had the audacity to look cheerful! “Care for a lemon drop?” he held out the jar.

“Save it!” the Death Eater snapped. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he went on before the Headmaster could comment on the younger wizard’s rudeness.

“Tell you?” Dumbledore cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?” blue eyes twinkled.

“Damnit man!” Severus shouted, arms in the air. “Don’t give me that! Why didn’t you tell me that Lily was pregnant? Why didn’t you tell me that she was going to have a baby? When were you planning to tell me that she had a baby?”

“Ah,” the old man sat calmly, his fingers in a steeple. “You found out about that, have you?” What nerve!

“I knew you’d know!” Severus slammed his hands down upon the mahogany desk, disrupting several pieces of parchment and the candies on the desk. “How could you not tell me about this, Albus? How long have you known?”

With a dramatic sigh, the ancient wizard motioned to the chair, indicating Severus to sit. The younger wizard refused, and crossed his arms instead, raising an ominous eyebrow. “I’ve known almost from the very beginning,” Albus responded impassively.

The younger man’s face twisted in disgust. “And you still didn’t tell me?” he hissed like the serpent he was.

Sighing once again, Dumbledore folded his hands neatly on his desk after his offer to sit was once again denied. “Severus, my dear boy, I quite frankly did not think you would care much for reports of Lily and James’s news of everyday life, and I especially did not think you would want to know about their...intimacies.”

That was it! “Damnit you old bastard!” Snape bellowed. “I’m being serious!”

“I am too,” Albus glared at the younger wizard. “And please stop all this pounding around. You’ll break my candy dishes.”

“I don’t care about your fucking candy dishes!” Severus screeched. “I don’t care about James Potter, and I don’t care about what you’ve done this fine bloody day! All I care about is that you kept Lily’s pregnancy and delivery a secret from me!”

Dumbledore frowned as he looked the younger wizard over. Perhaps his memory charm had not been as good as he had previously thought. It was ten months after he had had to split Severus and Lily apart, and still the young man displayed utter devotion for the Gryffindor girl. Was there a possibility that the Slytherin still had some of his memory? No, he had made no outward signs of knowing, and he had not tried to contact Lily at any time. James was constantly with Lily and when he was not, he put up a monitoring charm around their house so he would know when Lily was home or when she went to her sister’s house. No matter, what, the charm would have alerted James if there were any… unwanted people around the young witch.

Supposing that the boy just had an uncommon amount of love for the woman who rejected him years ago, Albus shook his head sadly. “Severus,” he met the devastated black eyes with his own. “What would you have done had you know Mrs. Potter was pregnant?” Severus flinched at the name. “What could you have done for her except make her uncomfortable?”

As though groping for words, Severus stood before the Headmaster, his hands frantically trying to convey what his mind could not. So, he was desperate then, Albus decided. Although the boy might still harbor some feelings for Lily, he could not exactly place why or how. Severus was still adjusting to the shock of the Potter’s wedding, and their announcement of the birth of a son must have been a knife in the back for the boy.

“Severus,” the old man softened his voice, standing up and walking around his large desk. Once he reached the boy, he guided him to a chair. As though oblivious to what he was doing, Severus allowed the old man to seat him.

Once down, Severus leaned forward, letting his hair curtain his face. He always looked so young when he did that… “I just…can’t believe it,” his voice was quiet once more. “I just can’t…I never really thought…”

“I know it must be hard, my dear boy,” Albus felt a sting of guilt. He always did when talking to Lily and Severus. But the prophecy had to be fulfilled! And Severus’s prophecy was directly linked to James and Lily having a child. After all, James’s face was the face the enemy loathed the most for the time being. James was the figure head of the Aurors.

Suddenly, an idea struck the Headmaster. If he was to help Severus get over his loss of Lily, he would first have to help the boy face his losses. Perhaps that would make everything less painful in the end? He did owe it to the boy to try.

“Severus,” the Headmaster said softly. “Would you like to come with me to see the baby?”

Instantly, the younger wizard’s head snapped up, and he stared at the Headmaster in horror. “I…I couldn’t! I can’t! Potter would never let me through the door! Why would I want to go anyway?” he gave Dumbledore a suspicious look.

“To see Lily?”

&&&&&

Walking down the raining street at night along with Albus Dumbledore, was a disguised- and polyjuiced- Severus Snape. He could not quite keep from muttering in anger. Of all the thing that he did not want to do, this took precedence over all others! The very last thing in the world he wanted to do was go into Potter’s house to see the new baby that had just been born. He had argued, threatened, refused, and at last, begged, that Albus not take him, but the crazy Headmaster had won in the end, saying if Severus wanted to see Lily, but not be seen, he should come in disguise instead. The old meddler had also said something about it being good for Severus, or some other such nonsense.

So, Severus was now out and about, looking like an old man with short, graying hair and a strong chin that sported a beard. A million thoughts rushed through the younger wizard’s mind, and none of them were any good.

What if he was found out? What if James kicked him out? What would Lily think? What if he was suddenly summoned? What would the baby look like?

The Potions Master scowled darkly at the last thought. Why did he care what the baby looked like? It probably looked like any other baby; pink, fleshy, smelly, dirty, and slobbery. It was probably semi-retarded knowing it’s father… but then again, it’s mother was very bright. Perhaps the child had a chance…

At last, the two wizards came to the front door of the Potter residence. Dumbledore smiled over at his frowning companion before knocking on the door. They waited for a moment, water dripping off their hat and cowl, before the door opened. It revealed a very tired, disheveled looking James Potter. “Yes?” he asked groggily before he saw Dumbledore. “Albus!” James exclaimed once he realized who was at the door. “Come in, come in!”

Stepping aside, the new father let in the seemingly old wizards. He smiled brilliantly at the Headmaster, before looking at the stern man with him. “Hello there. I don’t think I know you,” James smiled and held out his hand. Severus only looked down at the hand before raising an eyebrow in disgust.

“Oh! Where are my manners?” Dumbledore bubbled. “James, this is an old friend of mine, Vesperus Basai Stone,” Dumbledore smiled happily while Severus fought the urge to groan and roll his eyes. “Stone, this is James Potter.”

Deciding that he had better shake the once rejected hand, least it look suspicious, Severus took James’s hand in his. He did not want to touch James, he really did not want to. But he watched in satisfaction as Potter winced at his vice-like grip. The idiot, on the other hand, tried to smile. “Nice to meet you,” Potter’s voice faltered a bit.

“Where is Lily and the baby?” Dumbledore gushed as he looked around expectantly.

“Oh, she’s feeding Harry in the library, where it’s quiet,” James explained. “Would you two care for some tea? She’ll be done in a little bit.”

Severus shot the Headmaster a look. “Yes, thank you!” the old wizard responded. Groaning inwardly, the spy realized he was in for a long night.

After James ushered them into the kitchen, Severus sat down, looking at everything with distain. Potter’s house was just what the Potions Master had thought it would be like: lush, lavish, and filled with useless, expensive junk. Was this what Lily had wanted? Was she in love with James or the man’s money? That was not his Lily. She would never be so obsessed with material things like a Malfoy.

“So, how long have you two known each other?” James asked, looking from one old wizard to the other. Snape fought down a snort at the question.

“Why, I knew Vesperus since he was eleven! And he’s been a dear friend ever since,” Dumbledore smiled merrily at his surly companion.

“And what do you do, Ves?” James asked the frowning man.

“I did not give you permission to call me a familiar,” Severus’s masked voice was almost as deep as his normal one. But it served its purpose by making Potter jump. “And I don’t think it’s any of your damn business.”

While James looked close to panic, Dumbledore laughed heartily, before intervening. “Oh, he’s in the spying business,” the Headmaster said easily, erupting another scowl from his friend. “He’s my ‘very reliable source’ I always bring up in our Order meetings. I thought it would be nice to get him some social interaction, besides just me and some Death Eaters,” the old man laughed.

The new father sat up a bit straighter and stared at Severus with wide eyes. “Really?” he asked. “Oh, sir!” he exclaimed. “It’s an honor to meet you,” he smiled. “I’ve always wanted to meet the man that risked his neck to bring us the information we have. I can’t believe how much we know because of you! You brought us information from the inner ring!”

Deciding that he did not like being in the spotlight, Severus snorted. Potter had wanted to meet him? Had respected, if not slightly idealized, him? Oh the irony! It very much appealed to the spy’s dark sense of humor in a way. He only wished Potter could know who he was really talking to.

The three of them talked for a bit; or rather, James and Dumbledore did, as Severus just sat listening, still loathing the sight of his peer beside him. He still hated the man. James spoke arrogantly about this and that, of all that he had accomplished, never once mentioning Lily or his new son in his selfish tirade. Severus wanted to stand up and punch the git in the face and walk out, but as much as he wanted to act out his thought, he found himself wanting to see Lily and how she was.

“And when do we get to see the child?” Severus snapped, figuring the sooner they saw the brat the sooner they could leave. He just hoped Dumbledore wouldn’t take a fancy to the babe or they would be here all night!

“Lil’ should be done by now,” Potter said. Severus scowled at the nickname. “Let’s go to the study.”

The three wizards stood up and journeyed to the study. James opened the door, without knocking, and stepped in. Severus came in behind Dumbledore, and froze at the sight that greeted him: In the lavished study, laying perfectly, like some sort of painting, was Lily sleeping; her breast was exposed and the dark haired baby lying on her chest. Emotions that seemed so familiar and yet foreign swirled around within Severus's head and chest, as he watched Lily sleeping with the baby.

“Opps,” James whispered. “Thought she’d at least be descent.”

Enraged at Potter’s unconcern for his own wife’s virtues, Severus could not quite take his eyes away from the scene before him. Unaware of anything else, the spy walked over and stared into Lily’s face. She was more beautiful, even tired, than anything else he had ever seen. She was a vision.

Slowly, Severus pulled the blanket over Lily’s breast, covering her up from others view. Looking down at the child’s face impassively, the Potions Master felt an overwhelming sense of possessiveness take over him. Without really knowing what he was doing, he picked up the baby and held him close.

Peering down into the tiny face, Severus felt a strange spark, one that gave him an overpowering sense of protection, as though he just wanted to take the child and run away. At that moment, the boy’s eyes opened and Severus could not help the look of wonder that passed his face, even as James gasped behind him. The child had bright, sparkling emerald eyes. His mother’s eyes…

As soon as the feeling of wonder and completion had come, it was soon gone, leaving only a bitter throbbing and emptiness that ached awfully. A cold dread settled in the pit of Snape’s stomach, making him feel violently ill, even as the child smiled up at him. Sorrow soon consumed Severus and he did not think he could stand looking at the baby any more.

Gently settling down the new baby, Severus found that although it hurt to look at the boy, he couldn’t take his eyes off him. This baby did not quite look how the Potions Master thought the baby should. The little Potter was actually cute, but he looked…odd. He did not look a lot like Lily, but looked like James not at all. Although the child had dark, black hair, it did not quite look like James’s messy mop. The wizard could see Lily in the small features, but lightly…

Finally tearing his eyes away, feeling as though he had just torn a piece of himself out as well, Severus looked over at the two wizards behind him. “You!” Potter hissed, and the spy only then realized that the potion had worn off.

James charged forward towards his hated rival. But quickly casting a silencing charm over the room, so not to disturb Lily and the baby, Dumbledore grabbed Potter and led him out of the room. Severus followed obediently, closing the door softly behind him. He knew he had overstayed his welcome.

“Now, now,” the Headmaster began.

“What the hell are you doing here, Snivellus?” James demanded. “You sick pervert! You stared at Lily’s breast, didn’t you? You touched her!” Potter looked both disgusted and outraged.

Feeling the insults, Severus stood up to his full height, towering over the smaller man before him, radiating ire. “Do not attempt to scold me, Potter,” he spat. “Who was the one with no grace or decorum that lead two wizards into a room your wife was nursing in without even a knock to see if she was decent? And then did nothing to protect her virtue by making a move to help her cover herself? I did nothing wrong, Potter, and you know it. I did not stare at her in the manner you think,” Severus defended himself. “I was merely doing your job by making sure she was covered and then caring for the child by putting him to bed. He could’ve gotten killed had he been left in your care,” he hissed venomously.

“You’re sick, Snape. Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Potter sneered.

“Boys, please,” the Headmaster pleaded.

“Well, somethings are not what they seem,” Severus growled, ignoring the older wizard. “I’m not dead you twit, you’re just an arse!”

Pulling out his wand, James pointed it at the other man dangerously. “Get out,” he snarled. “Or I’ll hurt you so bad you’ll wish you were dead.”

Jaw clenched, Severus’s fists were balled tightly, knuckles whitening. For a moment, he had thoughts of retrieving his own wand, but knew it would be foolish. Potter already had his out and it wouldn’t be a fair drawl. So, blinded by rage, the black eyed wizard could have exploded with his anger and started a fight, but instead he put up a calm front, face once again impassive.

With his robes billowing behind him, Severus strode out of the house into the rain. Tears of frustration, anger, regret and bitterness ran down his cheeks. From that day on, Severus Snape did not care if he every saw Harry James Potter again.

1994

“Severin Harrison Tiberius Snape!” Harry repeated the name.

Severus was shaken out of his memories once again when the boy spoke. Dear Merlin, how could he have been so blind? How could he have not seen what was literally staring at him in the face? All the times he had known there was something about the boy that had not set right with him.

“Severin?” Harry cried in dismay.

How could Dumbledore have done this to him? The old man was supposed to be Severus’s mentor, his friend! Why would the old man do something like this to him? Was it something that he had done? Had the Headmaster thought Severus had done something to warrant the breaking of his family? But then why would he risk Lily’s happiness too?

“Tiberius?” the boy wailed again, bringing Severus out of his thoughts.

“And what’s wrong with that name?” Snape snapped, surprising even himself with the comment. Secretly, although the name was unnerving at the moment with its similarities to his own, Severus found the name was flattering and showed just how much Lily had missed him. But now, the Potions Master was saddened by the fact that the name had not reflected more on her side.

Harry sat gawking at his professor as though he were daft. “Seriously?” was the only word he could get out.

Unable to look at the boy’s face, Severus turned his attention back to Lily’s belongings while wrapping his robes around himself, as much for warmth as for security. Yes, all the papers were scattered about thanks to Potter… er, Harry…Severin? “This is ludicrous,” the Potions Master sighed.

But what captured Severus’s attention once more, were the small bottles that contained Lily’s memories. As though afraid they would disintegrate, the wizard took up the vials carefully to read each label. In neat, purple writing, were the titles of each memory, as printed by Lily; titles like “Harry’s birth”, “Harry’s First Bath”, and of course, “Harry’s First Steps.” But there were also several that caused the Potions Master to freeze. Along with the memories of the boy’s first year of life, were older ones. “Summer ‘68”, “Hogwarts: First Year”, and even memories of her wedding day- his wedding day- and their several months of marriage bliss together.

Not trusting himself with the glass anymore, Severus put the bottles down, and hid his hands within his robes to hide their shaking. He did not want to look up at Petunia or Harry, who he hoped fervently were not watching him. He could not handle their judgment right now.

Harry, on the other hand, could not quite get over his sudden change in name. What had his mother been thinking? Of Snape, apparently, he thought darkly.

Peeking a glance over at the professor, Harry found that he could not really see the man’s face. The black hair hung limply in the man’s face, shielding his expression form the world. But if the young wizard could have guess, he would have thought that Snape was just staring at the table. What was there that was so interesting?

The room remained silent for a long time, neither wizard seemed prone to talk, and Petunia, who had remained forgotten for a bit, finally sat down at the table with her nephew and peer. She actually gave Harry a concerned glimpse before she let her gaze fall back to the objects at the table. Gently, the woman picked up an old leather covered journal. Harry watched, as did Snape, secretly, as the journal rested in his aunt’s hands. There was a ribbon hanging down, a Slytherin green ribbon. The boy blanched.

“This can’t be real,” he shook his head.

“Be quiet, boy,” Severus growled at the younger wizard, his own nerves quite frayed and his interest in the journal peaked. “What is that?” he asked once he was sure Harry would not be giving anymore whining commentary.

“This,” Petunia said, opening the cover and taking out an envelope, “is Lily’s journal. And this,” she indicated to the envelope, “is a letter she wanted you to have, Harry.”

The younger wizard took the offered envelope, his hands shaking slightly. Could he handle anymore of this today? What else might this change? Perhaps it informed him that Merlin was going to be back in town for a week or so? Or maybe Professor McGonagall was actually his long lost sister?

Taking the letter, Harry set it down before him, planning to read it later. As of right now, he did not want to give himself a heart attack. He was unnerved when he realized Professor Snape was staring at him, his black eyes glinting with unknown thoughts, his face impassive once more. For just the wildest moment, Harry thought the man might actually bolt, and jump out the window. But that was not like Snape at all. This man did not run away from things...right?

“This journal,” Petunia went on after a moment for her nephew to adjust to a new topic, “is for you, Severus,” she held out the little book.

The Potions Master raised an eyebrow, but took the book from Petunia’s hand. Harry noticed a look he would have classified as terror, cross Snape's face, but it was gone almost instantly. With his long fingers, Severus delicately opened the cover. His face was impenetrable as his eyes scanned the page, apparently reading what must have been written. As he watched, the boy noticed that the older wizard’s lip twitched several times before stilling again. Was he angry, or was it something else?

“I suppose you want to know what exactly happened?” the Potions Master’s voice startled both the boy and his aunt. When the master wizard’s eyes looked up, the Harry felt as though he were trapped in some sort of icy prison.

The young wizard shifted uncomfortably under his teacher’s heavy gaze, wishing Snape would at least blink. “I, um, suppose I, uh, do?” Brilliant Harry! Now he thinks you’re an even bigger idiot! But why did Harry care?

Snapping the journal closed with an audible click, the blank face of Severus Snape regarded the child across from him carefully. Harry thought he was going to go mad with wondering what was going through the other man’s head. “Well then,” the man’s voice was a curious silk that ran over his audience’s ears easily. “It would appear that I was married to Lily for a duration of six months before…before the Headmaster saw it fit to… separate us. I had no memory of this before today.”

Harry’s mouth hung wide open. “Wait a minute! Dumbledore? You’re trying to tell me that this is all Dumbledore’s fault? That’s like saying Father Christmas goes out every year to kill little kids!”

Snape actually snorted at the image. “The Headmaster is a manipulative old fool that should stay out of everyone’s lives!” At last, the anger had come back. Unfortunately, it was hotter than Harry thought he could handle for the time being.

“So none of this is a joke then? It’s not a dream?” Harry turned pleading eyes upon his aunt, whose lips were a thin line. She merely shook her head “no.”

“What, in all of this, makes you think this is a joke?” Snape barked, temper ignited. “This, unfortunately, is not a dream, nor a nightmare, but simple fact.”

Again, the two wizards locked eyes, and Harry was startled to see a ferociousness in the obsidian that was not only anger, but something else… something almost protective, something that had not been in them before. Was the professor alright with all of this? Was he just going to sit here and accept everything they had been told? But what else could they do? Or was the panicked look in the man's eyes an indication of his next move? 

“S-Severus?” Petunia broke Snape’s eyes away form Harry, and silently the boy thanked his aunt. He did not like being under the other man’s eyes that long. “What happened to you? Why are you here?”

The Potions Master scowled as though he had a bad taste in his mouth, and Harry watched as his professor straightened up in his chair a bit more. “I made a choice and I suffered the consequences,” Snape replied flatly. “I am only sorry to report that now I am also being hunted by every dark wizard in Britain, the same as your nephew.”

“You?” Harry’s eyes widened. “Why? What did you do?”

It seemed Snape had to bite back a sarcastic remark when he glared at his student, but he held in whatever he was going to say, in favor of turning away to think a moment. “Yes, Potter…” he frowned at the name. “However, why and what I’ve done is hardly your concern,” he gave another stern glare. “All I know is that when I am able, I must leave, as my presence here is endangering all of you.”

Petunia squeaked. “Well…how considerate of you,” she said bitterly. "Why did you even come here at all then?"

Standing up abruptly, Severus took out his wand and waved it around, muttering some spells under his breath. Instantly, all of the glass, and anything else that had been broken before, was now fixed and just as neat as it had been. Glaring down at the two people seated, the Potions Master, with another flick of his wand, sent Lily’s possession back into their little box, save for the letter Harry had under his hand. Snatching up the box, holding it in his good hand, Severus turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Harry stood up, his chair falling backwards.

The man remained silent, but he stalked out of the kitchen and down the hall. They did not want him here? Fine, he would leave! Severus did not want to stay in Petunia’s house anyway. He did not want to be in the same house as Potter!

But he’s not Potter, he’s a Snape! Severus’s mind whirled at the thought.

What was he going to do? He did not want to stay here, it was crushing him. But he had nowhere else to go! Spinner’s End was swarming with Death Eaters by now and he was still not well enough to fight his way into Hogwarts. Perhaps he could go and rent some sort of flat somewhere, in a Muggle neighborhood? No self-respecting pureblood would go into a Muggle town without a specific purpose. And Severus had been raised mostly Muggle, so he could blend in without too much trouble.

“Professor,” it was like Harry had suddenly appeared before him, causing Severus to blink in surprise before he was able to scowl. “Professor, where are you going?” the boy asked, his emerald eyes sparkling.

Damn! Why, in all the genetic combination possibilities, did this child have to have Lily’s eyes? It would be so much easier to forget, so much easier to run if this boy did not have those wretchedly beautiful eyes! He did not want to be anything but a teacher to this child. He did not want to be a mentor, let alone a father. It was too much, too soon. He was not ready! He did not want…

But did he want it all? He had dreamed about a family once, when he had been younger. He had dreamed of having Lily as his wife, dreamed about starting a family. Severus had even promised, before he was able to have children, that he would never be the man his father had been. That he would never treat any child the way Tobias had treated him.

So what now? He was running away from the child that he had wanted; from the boy he had held as a baby and coveted so fiercely he had thought his heart would give out. Running was the coward's way out, the way Tobias would have chosen. Had Severus not been the one to tell Harry only a few moments ago that this was not a dream? That this was real? Then what gave him the right to flee from the awkwardness of the situation?

“Upstairs,” the Potions Master said after a moment, avoiding the pleading green eyes. “I’m…tired,” he admitted.

Harry frowned at the older wizard, but nodded and stepped out of the way. He watched as, very slowly, Snape went up the stairs, noticing that the man kept a tight grip on the handrail. What had that all been about? He had thought for a moment that the professor was going to leave.

But then why did he care if Snape left? The man was nasty and greasy and…Your father, Harry’s mind filled in. Had the Potions Master wanted to leave? Had the man decided that he had not wanted a son?

Although there were still three years of dislike and distrust between them, Harry could not help but feel betrayed. This man was supposed to be his father, right? Why hadn’t he hugged Harry? Why hadn’t he apologized for all of the times he had been unfair? Why hadn’t he been happy? It never occured to the boy at that moment that he would not have wanted his most hated professor hugging him, or the fact that perhaps it would have been too much.

Sitting on a step, the young wizard sighed sadly. He knew why the professor did not do anything but stare, it was because he hated Harry. Even after supposedly remembering happier memories, the man still displayed nothing short of disgust at the situation. Snape’s calm, collected front back there had only been a mask to cover his contempt. Harry had seen it before. The simple fact of the matter was that Snape, his own father, hated him. His own father had rejected him...

At that moment, the front door opened, and Dudley walked in.

1994

Unable to look into the pleading green eyes, Severus turned away. “Upstairs,” his voice sounded oddly mechanical. “I’m…tired.” If it was a display of weakness, the professor did not care at the moment. He really was tired, his ranting and surge of magic had drained him considerably, much more than it should have normally. That, and along for perhaps the biggest shock he had ever received, Severus was surprised he could walk!

Looking up the steps, the master wizard paused. What was there to be afraid of? He had obviously climbed them before and he had been able to get down. Clutching the handrail, the Potions Master’s ascent was slow, but steady as he chanted a familiar phrase to get him up, one he had made up as a child. It had served him well over the years, but he found that he was still uncomfortable with the damn things!

Had he looked back, he would have seen Harry, his son, sit on a step, staring off into oblivion dejectedly. However, Severus did not look back, nor had he wanted to. How could he look at the child he had sworn to loathe for all eternity as something other than a nuisance, as a rival of sorts? This James Potter clone, this Gryffindor abomination was really his? It all sounded like a very bad joke, but then, Severus knew it was not.

Walking up to the door of the room he had previously occupied, Severus looked down the hall at the other doors. Which one was Harry’s? What color was it? Did the child keep it clean, or was he among the teenage boy norm that destroyed everything?… But why did he even care?

Walking into the room was like walking back in time. With his memories slowly leaking back into his head, Severus understood why this room had been so familiar. He and Lily had stayed here with the Dursleys before they had gotten a flat to themselves. Well, Lily had owned the silly place, Severus had just helped pay as he could not rightfully sign a lease with the woman no one even knew he was married to. This room had been so different then…

Sinking down onto the bed, thoughts swirling dismally, the Potions Master stared at the wall for Merlin knows how long, seeing and hearing nothing but the memories that sprung up randomly in his mind. He recalled his wedding day, and how breathtaking Lily was as she glided down the isle. His eyes had been only for her, lost in her smile, and glow of happiness. Her flowers had been white lilies...

A sob escaped the wizard’s lips, his head fell forlornly. As if remembering his injures, all of the wounds the professor had sprung back to life, each one throbbing terribly. The headache he had acquired became stabbing, more powerful with each heartbeat. What a wretched state he was in! But it could not be helped; he was miserable and lost with no one to turn to. He only hoped that Po- Harry, would go to Petunia for comfort. At least the boy had a family, people that cared about him.

Taking several deep, ragged breaths, Severus turned his attention to the box that Petunia had shown him. His attention was focused on the journal, the one Petunia had said that he should have specifically. But why would that be? Why would Lily have something for him if he was supposed to be dead?

Upon opening the cover lovingly, there, written in the same sparkling green ink as the birth certificate, was the name “Lily Ann Snape.” Clenching his jaw, lest he begin to sob, Severus, steeling himself for the worst, hoping he could control himself. When he lost control…it was never good.

Severus turned the page carefully, least he rip a fragile paper, he began to read the words written, his heart bleeding.

With a breaking heart, Severus noticed the tearstains on the page. Lily had been so devastated at his loss, that she was writing him letters in her journal, as though he were not really dead at all, but merely away. She had done the same thing, on his recommendation in third year, after her grandfather died. After ten or so letters, Lily had felt better having felt like she had left nothing unsaid. Apparently she had not gotten over him nearly as fast. A tear broke free and slid down the Potions Master’s face without his notice.

Although he had already guessed what she had wanted to say, seeing it written down, and knowing what it meant made Severus sick. Here he had been, gallivanting all around England, alive and well, and he had abandoned his wife! His wife that had been carrying his child! Guilt surged through the wizard’s heart, and he wondered if he could die from it.

By the time he was finished reading, tears flooded out of Severus’s eyes, even as his face remained in a determined blank. With his hands shaking violently, the wizard set the tiny box of Lily’s things aside and stretched out on the bed, clinging to the journal as though his very existence depended on it.

With his heart in turmoil as long dead emotions raged against him, Severus closed his eyes, just letting the tears fall. He was tired, too tired to care anymore. He did not want to face the world anymore. All he did want to do was sleep, sleep and dream good dreams of his Lily. Dream about the way things were supposed to be.

&&&&&

Harry looked up right as his cousin waddled into the house. The moment the fat child saw his cousin, he sneered victoriously. “MUM!” he shouted. “Harry’s not doing anything!”

Petunia rushed into the room immediately, her face flustered and pale. “Dudley!” she hissed. “For heaven’s sake, do not yell!”

The older boy looked confused for a moment before deciding that this deserved a frown. His mother had never taken that sort of tone with him before and he did not know how to react. “But mum,” the boy whined, hoping that his mother would start acting normal again.

Sighing, Petunia turned to Harry. “Go straighten up the kitchen,” she ordered firmly, signaling to Harry that appearances had to be kept up. What would Uncle Vernon say if he suddenly saw his wife acting kindly towards her nephew?

Trying to hide how hurt he really was, Harry nodded, mumbling a, “Yes, Aunt Petunia,” before walking off to do what his aunt had asked.

Harry usually did not mind scrubbing the floors, what he minded was when his cousin tried to ruin all of his work. But at the moment, the young wizard was grateful for the task of scrubbing. It let him think, but it could also distract him if he let his mind focus. Right now, Harry wanted something to keep him focused on something other than the man upstairs in his room, anything to keep his thoughts away from what had been told to him today.

Time flew, and yet stood still, as Harry worked, and the next thing he knew was that Uncle Vernon was home. Making dinner was one of the young wizard’s favorite chores to do. It was only after he started mashing the potatoes that he truly realized how late it was. It was after six o’clock! Where had the day gone? In panic and chaos, he thought glumly.

While setting the table, Petunia came bustling in. She looked about as well as ever, which surprised Harry greatly. His aunt must have been a spectacular actress to keep Uncle Vernon and Dudley in the dark… or perhaps he was just being generous with complements. It did not take a great deal of energy to fool the two fat blobs that passed as human beings.

“Your uncle’s had a terrible day,” Petunia whispered, looking over her nephew’s shoulder as he stirred the gravy. “Just keep quiet during dinner and then clean up after. I’ll give you some leftovers to eat. Give some to Severus too. He hasn’t eaten anything all day.”

With that, the Muggle promptly left, going to sit once more with her husband and son. Harry scowled after her for a moment before turning back to his cooking. At least he would get to eat tonight. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until his aunt had said something. Lunch had been completely forgotten this afternoon in favor of discovering hidden truths.

But Petunia’s words came back, ringing in his ears. Snape… his father… had not eaten anything all day! No wonder the man had been tired. Healing people needed lots of liquids and regular meals, or so Madame Pomfrey always lectured to him. How had he forgotten to feed the man? He was probably starving right now!

It’s not really your fault, a small part of Harry’s mind told him. You had enough to think about without having to watch Snape’s diet. The young wizard shuddered. But you’re supposed to care because he’s your father! He’s not just Snape now.

With a shake of his head, Harry set out the food just as the Dursleys entered the kitchen. As warned, Vernon looked livid. Taking his aunt’s advice, the wizard stepped back and watched, as he always did, as his family gorged themselves while he got nothing. They were disgusting.

“Daddy!” Dudley whined. Harry winced. “Remember that Harry spilled water on the floor this morning? He also was doing nothing when I got home.”

The fat boy beamed over at his cousin cruelly, even as Harry glared. Vernon, turned his massive head over to glower at his nephew. “Was he now?” the fat man looked back at his son. “Well then, we’re going to have to make sure he knows not to do nothing.”

Dread flooded Harry’s limbs and his stomach flipped over. There was no way to get out of this one. Although it was completely insane, the reasons for his punishment, the young wizard could not truthfully deny any of Dudley’s claims, even if they had been false. Vernon always believed his own son rather than Harry, so what was the point of trying?

“Vernon, please,” Petunia snapped, surprising her nephew. “Can’t we at least finish our meal in peace?”

Looking over at his wife, the mustached man nodded. “I intend to, Petunia dear, but I want to let this worthless freak know that he hasn’t gotten away with anything. If he thought he did, he’d be ten times worse for it!”

I can hear you, you fat arse! Harry longed to scream, but held it in. The last thing in the world that he wanted was for Snape to hear something and come crashing down out of the ceiling. The professor already suspected abuse, Harry was sure of it. The way Sn- his father, had looked over his cheek, the young wizard was sure that the Slytherin had put two and two together.

After dinner was finished, the Dursleys left the room, leaving Harry to clean up and wash the dishes. Apprehensively, the Gryffindor started the water for the dishes before moving on to clearing the table. Petunia came back into the room and covertly made two plates for Harry and Severus to eat later. She then placed them in the cupboard for Harry to retrieve later. It was a simple plan really, but the trick was to distract both Dudley and Vernon at the same time. The young wizard did feel confident, however, that his aunt would take that job upon herself.

As usual, the dishes took about an hour, seeing as both Dursley men ate enough to feed an army or so each. But the whole time he washed, Harry could not help but think back to Snape’s reaction to finding out their relation. The man had at first seemed confused, then angry. For a moment Harry had thought he saw acceptance, but then the man had looked disgusted, and shocked. Did Snape want a son? Would he take Harry on, or abandon him here? Rejection had never felt so bitter, or so real to the boy before now.

After the last dish was scrubbed and put away, Vernon came into the room. He had a belt in hand. Harry blanched.

“This ought to teach you to ruin things, you freak,” the man growled.

Before Harry could have gotten away, the large man had a hold of the boy’s wrist with bruising force. Shaking, the young wizard tried to think of something, anything that he could do to get out of this. He had never wished for Snape to come so much in his life, wishing the Potions Master would turn Vernon into some kind of bug and then step on it or some other creatively wicked punishment. But at the same time, Harry did not want Snape, his father, to come walking in on this scene. The young wizard did not think he could bear it if the older wizard just stood by and did nothing; not to mention the shame the Gryffindor would feel.

Luckily, the blows with the belt were mostly aimed at the Harry’s back and backside. There was not as much force behind the blows either, for which the young wizard was glad. Like always, the boy bit his lower lip and let his uncle get the punishment out of his system. It did not last too long, but it had been enough for Harry.

“Now get out of here!” Vernon barked once he was done, pushing Harry away from him. “And get up stairs to bed. I don’t want to hear a peep out of you! Understand?”

Face flushed, his lip bleeding, the young wizard nodded. “Y-yes Uncle Vernon.”

Petunia came in at that time, her face looking sympathetic until she looked at her husband. “Vern,” she called his attention away. “Dudley wants to show you something.”

Giving Harry one last growl, Vernon waddled back into the parlor. Petunia, who was expected to follow, gave her nephew a sad glance before she followed her husband. Again, it seemed nothing changed.

Opening the cupboard door soundlessly, Harry took up the plates of food before rushing up the stairs. Merlin he hated them! He hated them all! Why hadn’t Snape come? Why hadn’t his father come to save him?

Sniffling, Harry took a moment to collect himself before he opened the door. When he entered, the room was dark. Use to maneuvering at night, the young wizard managed to get to his desk to set down the plates before he turned on a light. There, sound asleep on the bed, was the Potions Master, his face once again crinkled, as though in unpleasant dreams, looking vulnerable.

All the fragile anger that had been built up towards the man for not coming to help him dissipated instantly. Of course Sn- his father, would be sleeping. The professor was hurt and had probably tuckered himself out after the events of the day. Harry could not remember a time when Madam Pomfrey let him out of the hospital wing to go roaming around as Sn- his father had done. The boy found himself hoping the Potions Master had not hurt himself further.

Sighing, Harry let his tears roll down his cheeks. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. Sitting down was careful work as he tried to find a place that had been left unharmed by his uncle’s ravings. The boy found that if he sat leaning more toward the right that it hurt far less.

Taking the plates, Harry began to devour his food with the appetite a teenage boy should have. Soon all of his food was gone, and the young wizard found himself looking over at the other greedily. Snapping his head over at the other wizard, Harry found that man still sleeping. Surely sleep was the best thing for now? The Potions Master would not want to be woken up for food, right?

Deciding that he had rather have the other stay unconscious, Harry began eating off the other plate. He really did cook pretty well. If it hadn’t been a chore, he wondered if he would have liked cooking a lot better.

After his meal was finished, and after giving Hedwig some of the meat he thought she would be okay to have, Harry went about making a bed for himself on the floor. He did not mind really. After sleeping in a cupboard, pretty much anything in the open air was fine with him. Besides, there was nowhere else to move the professor. The floor was perfectly fine with Harry.

The young wizard was about to turn out the light, when he noticed something clutched in Snape’s hands. Standing up, Harry realized that it was his mother’s diary. The professor must have been reading it when he fell asleep.

As carefully as he could, Harry tried to pry the little book out of the man’s hand, but found that it would not move. Attempt after attempt seemed to fail, until at last, the boy was able to get it away from the other. When he sensed the absence of the book, Snape’s face crinkled a little bit more, and a frown etched his lips, but he did not do anything else but shiver.

Exhaling a breath of relief, Harry set the leather bound journal down on the desk before covering… his father... with the blanket at the end of the bed. Once satisfied that the older man would not catch a cold, the boy took off his glasses and turned out the lights.

Lying down, Harry realized just how much he hurt. He was unable to stop the tears of pain, tears of fright, and tears rejection that came out. He was certain that if Snape could sleep through Vernon and Dudley thundering about downstairs, he could sleep through a few of Harry’s sniffling. Perhaps things would look better in the morning?

1979

Severus laid on his back, blissfully twirling a strand of Lily’s hair in his hands. Taking a deep, contented breath, he wrapped his arms around his new wife and hugged her close. As expected, and desperately wanted, Lily giggled, her voice a beautiful melody all on its own.

“Sev!” she turned in his arms and smiled up at him. “What are you doing?”

With a soft smile, the wizard kissed the top of his wife’s head, loving how soft her hair was. “Cuddling,” came the comfortable reply.

Giggling again, Lily sat up so that her hair provided a privacy curtain, keeping their intimacy in. Seductively, she leaned down and commandeered Severus’s lips for her own. It was several minutes before they parted again. “And,” her voice was breathy, “do you like cuddling?” she smiled mischievously.

His own lips parted in an roughish grin. “No,” he began twirling her hair once more. “I hate it.”

“Then I’ll just have to keep cuddling, lest you get spoiled,” she gave him a quick peck on the nose.

Severus’s grin became a full-fledged smile, and he laughed softly. “Oh dear, what shall I do!”

The newlyweds laughed softly in the early morning, neither one of them wanting to get up. As the sun slipped into their window, they remained where they were, just simply enjoying the presence of the other. Just holding Lily in his arms was perhaps the greatest thing Severus had ever done. Nothing else mattered.

Peeling open his too heavy eyelids, Severus rolled over on his side with a low groan. What time was it?

He woke with an uncomfortable pressure on his bladder, and although he did not want to get up, he knew he had to get up. Groping for his wand, Severus found it after several minutes on the desk beside him in his cloak. When had be shrugged off the stupid thing? It didn’t matter really.

Sitting up stiffly, the Potions Master stretched his arms before swinging his legs over. As it always did, the cold floor against his bare feet awakened him immediately. But what the wizard could not figure out was how he had managed to sleep so heavily? He never slept in a deep sleep, and when he did, it was always broken by some nightmare or another. Having an acute case of paranoia had also contributed to the fact that he did not like to sleep as well.

But as he stood and tried to take a step, Severus found something lying on the floor. He frowned and illuminated his wand to find that P- Harry was sleeping on the floor. Why in bloody Merlin’s name would the child be sleeping on the floor? Why hadn’t the boy gone to his own bed? Certainly it was not because the boy wanted to keep an eye out for his professor…was it?

Staring down at the boy, who seemed to be in a comfortable dream, the teacher- no, father- could not tear his eyes away. Under all of this glamour of James Potter, there had to be more of Lily in the child than just the eyes. Under all of this secret there had to be some of Severus in him too.

Such thoughts were not productive at the moment and Severus dismissed them. He was feeling better and he would be able to handle everything later today, but right now he was starting to feel quite ill with not having used the restroom since sometime the evening before last. But then yesterday he had been quite preoccupied, and magic had its other uses…

But on to immediate matters. The idea, though noble in intentions, of sleeping on the floor by his bedside was laudable, Severus did not like the thought of the child sleeping on the cold, hard floor. Animals slept on the floor, not his son.

Levitating Harry onto the bed, Severus tucked the boy in, making sure not to wake him. His hands were gentle and soft, almost as though he were not touching the boy at all as he made sure there were no spots left uncovered. Besides, it would not do to have the child catching a chill would it? All of this was just to make sure Dumbledore’s Golden-Boy didn’t get ill.

As he thought of this, a sour bile flooded Severus’s mouth. No, no he could not do it anymore, not ever again. This was not a Potter, this child was his and even though he could strangle the boy at times, the Potions Master knew that he would never again be able to hate the Gryffindor. He did not have the heart to continue hating him.

Severus was determined to leave at that point, but then froze in favor of watching Harry sleep. Merlin, but he forgot how young the boy was! Only fourteen, if he remembered correctly. So young, without parents. But not any longer. Although he did not know why he was willing to accept this change so easily, Severus found himself vowing silently to Lily that he would do more than just look after her child, his child. He would mentor Harry, guide him, and hopefully knock some sense into his unusually thick skull.

With uncertain hands, Severus ran his hands through the boy’s thick black locks. It was so soft. Just like Lily’s…

Turning around, the Potions Master left. But when he came to the door, he found it locked. Frowning in confusion and irritation, Severus easily unlocked it, remembering that he had seen the unusual amount of them the day before. Why were those wretched things on there anyway?

Recalling from a distant memory that there was a bathroom on the upper floor, Severus, by process of elimination, found the restroom quite easily. It really was quite simple, you just ignored the rooms with all the snoring. But once he got there, he quickly locked himself in and was able to relieve himself.

After washing his hands, Severus knew he would never be able to go back to sleep, even though he felt starved for it. He was used to so little sleep, that on the rare occasion that he did manage to get more than his usual four hours, he felt sluggish and grumpy. It really was not a good combination for a man that was said to have a temper like a fuse. Once lit, no one could stop it.

Yet he was determined not to be too… put out today. As he washed his face, Severus mentally made a list of things he had to do that day. He had to first off send a message to the Headmaster, however odious the old man was. As leader of the Order, Dumbledore deserved to know what had happened to his best spy. Perhaps I could let him think I’m dead, see how he likes it. The thought, however appealing, was not practical, and Severus knew it. Despite his knew found hatred for the Headmaster, Dumbledore had to be informed.

After writing the letter, he and Harry would have to have a long talk. There were so many misconceptions and disagreements that they had to sort through first before they would ever be able to truly stand each other. The Potions Master knew the boy hated him, but he would try to rectify everything, if for nothing else than to appease Lily. She would want them to be a family, even if she was not in it.

But would the boy even want a relationship with him? It surprised Severus that the thought scared him so much. When had he latched on to Harry as his last hope? As his link back into humanity and a world that was made of light? Would Harry consent to coming with his father, or would he prefer to continue living here with the Dursleys?

Harry had been in shock most of the day yesterday, did the boy still doubt there relationship? There was no doubt in Severus’s mind that Harry was his son. After regaining some of his…more pleasurable memories, and after reading Lily’s journal, Severus knew he was the boy’s father. Even with an extra month of pregnancy, the Potions Master still did not doubt Lily’s words in her diary. She had always been quite talented with charms, and with the right ones set into place, a ten month pregnancy was conceivable.

Scowling at his reflection, Severus rubbed his chin when the beginnings of a beard was growing. Lily had always loved his beard, told him it made him look distinguished, but Severus hated it. When he had facial hair, he tended to look like his father. He did not want to look anything like that man! But he had grown one out, just prior to his “death” as he had not minded Lily rubbing her hands and face all over him because he was “soft”.

The smile at the memory quickly fled as Harry came back into his thoughts. Severus was determined to make the boy believe the truth. There was a paternity test, a simple potion made from very common ingredients. If he could make one, then he could show Harry that they were father and son. There would be no doubt. Harry would have to accept him!

With that thought fixed in his mind, the Potions Master decided that he should go look around the house to see if he could find what he needed. He could use Harry’s cauldron and some of his potions ingredients and then look around the garden and kitchen for anything else he might need. Seeing as this was a simple potion to brew, Severus was confident that he remembered the instructions by memory. He had a very good memory, and at one point in time, he had been able to list all of the potions along with their instructions that had been in his potions book in school. However, he had memorized other potions, darker potions, as well, and Filius had once jokingly called him the “human potions encyclopedia.” The half goblin was really not far from the truth.

Shaking his head, trying to focus back on his purpose, Severus left the bathroom and quietly gathered his robes from out of the room Harry was sleeping in. Again, the man found that when he looked down at the child, he had an overwhelming urge to run his hands through the boy’s hair. What was wrong with him? He was supposed to be the terrifying Potions Master, not the hugs and flowers potions teacher.

Glancing at the clock, Severus found that it was only four o’clock in the morning. He noticed that the alarm was on and set to a rather early hour. Teenage boys needed sleep, right? At least that’s what his Slytherins always complained about when he gave them their schedules. In that, Gryffindors could not be much different. So he flipped it off. He would wake the boy later, or his relatives could.

Finding himself before the stairs once again, Severus stopped and looked down. Leaning against the wall for support, the wizard took a deep breath. Silently, he counted each and every step. Thirty-four, there was only thirty-four little steps. Much smaller than Hogwarts. He had been up and down these steps before yesterday, he could climb down.

Taking in another deep breath, but holding it, Severus descended quickly, his hands on the rail and along the wall. Only when he reached the bottom did he exhale. That hadn’t been so bad, right? Hogwarts was much worse, and, spurred on by his reputation, Severus had to journey a lot by those abominable stairs. Here, at least he had time to hold his breath before he took the plunge.

Walking back into the parlor, the wizard glared at it. Lace and frills and disgusting pinks. It looked like Lockhart threw up in here on Valentines day. Why did Petunia like such horrid colors?

But as he was going to ignore it in favor of going to the kitchen, Severus stopped. There were pictures everywhere, he noticed, but they only held three people in them. Spinning back around, the wizard began looking at each photograph. In every one there was Petunia, that fat slob Vernon, and a largely obese boy. Where was Harry in all of these pictures?

The more he looked, the more frantic Severus became at trying to find a picture of Harry. But the more he looked, the more disappointed he was. Nothing. Not one single photo!

A horrible dread filled Severus’s stomach as he recalled the bruise on Harry’s cheek. He had asked the boy about it, and had known the child had been hit by someone, even though the younger wizard had lied about it. He had known Harry was covering for something, that someone close to him had hurt him. But no, it could not be… not in Petunia’s house!

Rushing out of the parlor, the wizard found himself looking everywhere for even a trace that would suggest Harry lived here at all. But he found nothing. Nothing! That room, the room he had slept in, had that been the boy’s bedroom? Was that why he slept on the floor, because there was nowhere else? Was that why the door had so many locks, and the window barred?

Desperate, Severus looked for anything he thought might be Harry's, and as a last resort, he flung open the door to cupboard, hoping to find something of Harry’s that had been stored there. But what he found, horrified the new father more than anything else ever had.

There, hanging on the back of the door, was a single piece of yellowing paper. Drawn in crayon, in a sloppy, childish handwriting, it said, “Harry’s Room.”

1979

Walking through the front door at ten-thirty in the morning, Severus lumbered into the kitchen and collapsed into a chair. Looking over the table, he noticed a pot of tea and an extra cup. Grabbing the cup instantly, he claimed it as his own and poured himself a generous cup. He took a long drink before he actually realized that there was someone else at the table with him.

“Dursley,” he nodded a late greeting before taking another sip.

Vernon Dursley looked over at his brother-in-law, not bothering to hide his disgust. “Snape,” he growled. “And where have you been this morning?”

“None of your business,” the Potions Master said steadily, looking into his teacup. He did not want to discuss what he had done last night or any other night. The less the Muggle knew about him the better it pleased Severus.

“It most certainly is my business when you come barging into my house,” the large man barked. “I’m letting you and your bloody wife stay here because Petunia wanted to help.”

Looking up, his eyes hard, Severus glared at his brother-in-law with equal dislike. Muttering a curse under his breath, he made a leg of the chair Vernon occupied break, sending the Muggle crashing to the floor. The barest hint of a curve formed on the Death Eater’s lips as he turned his attention back to his tea. After the kind of night he had had, this sort of amusement was just what he needed.

“Ah!” Vernon yelped. “You…you did that on purpose!” he bellowed, trying to stand up.

“Me?” Severus glared right back at the other man, watching with satisfaction as the fat man seemed to be thinking twice about crossing the wizard. “You’re accusing me of breaking that chair?” he raised his eyebrow. “I think you should blame your weight. You’re far too heavy for someone in general. It’s not healthy.”

“Shut up!” Vernon snapped, turning to look back down at the ruined chair. “You need to fix it,” he ordered. “I have people coming this afternoon.”

Rolling his eyes, the wizard took out his wand and fixed the chair instantly. Although it had given him pleasure to see how fast he could make Vernon’s face go purple, he did not want to have to look at it for very long afterwards. It was an ugly sight to witness. Why had Petunia married the wretched Muggle again?

Placing his wand back into his cloak, Severus once again silent and turned back to his tea. He had been hoping Vernon would not still be at home when he got back from this morning’s meeting with Dumbledore, reporting last night’s meeting with the Death Eaters, but it would appear that he had been wrong. Not an event that happened very often, but it still drove the wizard crazy when he was.

“Once you’re done, go upstairs and stay there for a few hours,” Vernon instructed, taking his cup to the sink.

Snapping his head back over the watch the Muggle, Severus scowled. “Why?” He was actually insulted. This fat Muggle wanted to hide him?

“Because I don’t want my clients to see you,” Vernon growled. “I’d never be able to make the sale!”

Snorting, Severus stood up and put away his cup as well. “Fine. Then I’ll take Lily out for lunch. Where is she?”

Sighing, as though the wizard had just asked the world of him, Vernon took a step back, not quite comfortable with how close the wizard was to him. “She and Petunia went out shopping for a bit. Said they’d be back later.”

An idea struck inside the Potions Master’s mind. Where it had come from he could not say, but he was bored and in need of something to occupy his time. He knew he should probably just go upstairs to bed or catch up on some important brewing, but this would be more fun. He was in a particular mood, one that demanded that he do something spontaneous and stupid. After all, he wasn’t even twenty yet, he could still get away with these sorts of things, right?

“Out?” he looked at his brother-in-law dejectedly. “Why, then that’s more reason why I don’t want to go upstairs all by myself. I’ll get lonely!”

“For heaven’s sake!” Vernon shouted, just the kind of reaction Severus had wanted. “You spend all your time alone! You always hate company.”

Crossing his arms and straightening up to his full height, in a way the wizard had learned intimidated people, Severus pinned Vernon with his gaze. “I’m not a dog that you can simply lock away, Dursley, and if I want to stay down here, then by damn I will.”

Before the argument could ensue, the doorbell rang. But before Vernon could respond, Severus turned on his heels and went for the door. As he went, he changed his clothes into a more Muggle style, consisting of a black, long sleeve shirt and gray long pants. His lips twitched as he fought down another grin as he heard his brother-in-law’s frantic scraping about.

Opening the door, Severus looked at the three very ordinary looking Muggles before him. “Can I help you?” he asked sternly, hoping that one might run away.

“Uh…hello!” one said after a moment. “Is this the home of Vernon Dursley?” he looked around uncertainly.

“No,” Severus snapped. “No Vernon here, now get lost!”

Startled, the three Muggles looked about, as though they might find their answers out in the lawn. “Do you know where he lives?” another asked.

“No, now get lost!” Severus growled before he slammed the door shut. For once, he actually did smile. “That was fun,” he spoke quietly to himself.

“Where are they?” Vernon came in from the parlor. “I thought you were going to escort them in!”

Raising an eyebrow, Severus peered down at Vernon from his nose. “Wrong house,” he said flatly. “I’m going upstairs.”

Quickly apparating back into his and Lily’s room, Severus found that a chortle came out. He knew he should not have done that, but it had been fun. It would teach the fat man a lesson or two. Flopping on his back onto the bed, the wizard found himself smiling. He could not wait to tell Lily. She would be angry at him of course, but he knew she would find it amusing later. Beside, he had not hexed the fat fool yet, an acomplishment he was quite proud of. She would forgive him this little sin.

Once Vernon figured out exactly what happened, it was official from that day on, Vernon Dursley and Severus Snape hated each other.

When Harry’s eyes flittered open, the first thing that came to his notice was that the sun was actually fairly high in the sky. Alarmed, the boy sat up from bed, eyes open. He had slept in! Snatching up his glasses, Harry realized that he was actually in his bed. Had he not slept on the floor last night? Where was Snape!Jumping out of bed, startling Hedwig, Harry ran to the door, finding that it was open. Thoughts about yesterday came spilling back into his head. With a sudden stab to the heart, Harry realized that the Potions Master had left. The man was gone, had probably woken up sometime last night and left.

Biting his lower lip, the young wizard tried to tell himself that he did not care. If the greasy dungeon bat wanted to leave, then fine. What did he care if the slimy git wanted to leave? It was just like Snape to go slithering back into his hole once things became… complicated. Let the man leave! He had been doing just fine before that…that lousy Slytherin showed up to ruin his life!

But then why did Harry feel so devastated? He’d only know that the Potions Master was his father for less than twenty-four hours, so why did he care so much? The man had been terrible to him for three years now, why did one little piece of information change all that?

It’s because you always wanted a father. And now you find you have one, but one that doesn’t want you, Harry’s mind filled in, irritating him with its logic. Shut up! he told himself sternly. If Snape wanted to run, then he should run. The man was a coward anyway.

Using the restroom, Harry did his business quickly, wishing he had checked the clock to see what time it was. The boy began his shower when he noticed that one of the wash clothes had already been used. Who would have thought Snape would be one to freshen up, he thought unfairly.

Shaking his head, he only gave his reflection a passing glance before stepping into the hot water. The steaming water burned his sensitive skin, where welts now flourished from where his uncle had beaten him last night. It had not been a particularly bad beating, but then when could you say that a beating was good? Closing his eyes, hissing, Harry ducked under the water and washed quickly. The stinging in his back and backside were terrible.

Once out, Harry turned to look at himself in the mirror only a moment before he turned to leave for his room. He had forgotten to bring his clothes in with him. So he changed quickly in his room, gave Hedwig a loving pat before he went downstairs. He had to get ready for breakfast quickly before Vernon or Petunia woke up and found that he was not keeping up with his chores.

Racing down the stairs, Harry went to the kitchen, only to be startled at the sight of Severus Snape sitting silently, staring off into nothingness while nursing a cup of tea. What was Snape doing here? Hadn’t the man left?

A place in Harry’s heart melted once again when he realized that Snape had not abandoned him after all. He had stayed, his father had stayed! But why did the man look… sad?

“S-sir?” the boy called timidly, hoping he was not disturbing the Potions Master’s thoughts.

Keeping his eyes fixed forward, the professor did not turn his head to look at Harry. “I’m afraid that it gave me a nasty shock when I discovered the truth,” the man’s voice was soft. “I suppose I had suspected it when you were a first year, but I did not want to believe it. But I know the signs.”

“S-sir?” Harry plucked up his courage and walked into the room a little bit more. “What are you-”

“I’m surprised though,” Snape went on. “I did not want to think Petunia would ever let this happen. Especially not after all that she had seen when we were growing up.”

“Sir?” Harry was about to say more when Snape suddenly turned and looked at the boy, his obsidian eyes blazing with fury.

“Come here,” the Potions Master said softly.

Although all instinct told the boy not to, the young wizard found himself complying with his professor’s demand. The moment he was within arms reach, Snape stood up and cupped Harry’s face in his cool hands. Harry jerked back, but again, the older wizard had a firm grip, having expected the reaction. Turning Harry’s face over, Snape looked down at the bruise and growled.

“Sit down,” he ordered the boy.

Harry scrambled to obey, but when he sat, he shot back up and winced at the literal pain in his butt. He cursed himself for letting on that he was hurt at all, and as expected, Snape was at his side in a moment. Looking down at his scrapped shoes, Harry wished he could disappear through the floorboards. It was over, Snape knew. "I'm fine," he mumbled.

“You are not,” it was not a question. “Let me see.”

Snape’s voice brooked no arguments, and Harry found himself taking off his shirt to show his professor. He heard the Potions Master growl low in his throat and shame washed over him. He heard the professor whispering several incantations. In an instant, the younger wizard found himself feeling much better than he had before. Had Snape… his father, just healed him?

But before Harry could fully register that, the Potion Master guided him to a chair and sat him down. The boy watched as the pro- his father- poured him a cup of tea. Harry tried not to look up, because he knew that the moment he did, Snape would start asking him questions. He hated it when people started asking him questions!

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” his father’s deep voice startled him. “How long has this been going on?”

Blushing fiercely, Harry glared down at the table. “N-not long. Just…”

“Don’t lie to me!” the ferocity behind the voice startled Harry, and the boy looked up to see a black fire swirling in the man’s usually empty tunnel eyes.

Glaring back, lest he start to cry in front of the man, Harry shrugged desperately. “I don’t know. Several years?”

“Several wouldn't happen to be thirteen, would it?” the Snape asked heatedly.

Horror flittered onto Harry’s face. How had Snape guessed that? Could the man really read minds, or had it just been a lucky guess? Why was he so mad? Why couldn’t Harry just tell the truth?

“Please stop,” the boy glared back down at the table. He did not want to get into this with anyone, especially Snape. The man had hated him for the past three years! But then he was his father now…

“Look at me,” Severus’s voice was gentle, catching Harry off guard. “Why didn’t you tell me?” the man’s voice almost sounded pleading.

“I…I didn’t think that you would care much, sir.”

The answer did not seem to please the Potions Master too much. He walked out into the hallway, his wand out. Out of thin air, the man made two large buckets of water appear. Curious, he watched as the man levitated them upstairs. What could he be doing with those?

After a moment of confusion, Harry got his answer when he heard three screams of surprise from upstairs. Paling, the boy realized just what his professor had done. He was stunned to say the least.

Snape walked back into the kitchen leisurely, stopping close to the door. At that moment, Harry heard a familiar booming coming down the stairs. A moment later, he saw Uncle Vernon’s livid purple face and dripping wet night clothes charging towards him. “Harry Potter!” the man yelled, his eyes focused on the boy.

Right when the large man was in the doorway, Snape slammed the door hard into Vernon’s face, cracking the door, and breaking the man’s nose. Looking over at his professor, Harry found Snape glaring down at his uncle dispassionately. Crying, Vernon gave a startled shout of pain before he looked up, “Who the hell-!” but then froze.

“Hello Vernon,” came the familiar silk voice.

Clutching his bleeding nose, the older Dursely looked up in shock. “Snape!”

1994

Sitting, staring up at Severus with wide, bewildered eyes, Vernon Dursley could do nothing but hold his nose and gawk stupidly at the wizard before him. “Snape!” he said again, the only word his mouth seemed able to produce.

Behind Vernon, a dripping Petunia and Dudley waited by the front door as they watched the older wizard with fear. Dudley, who did not yet know the Potions Master, tried to scowl at the man as though he were nothing at all. But the sight of the vampiric man before him was too much for the teenager, and he soon gave way to his cowardice instinct and hid behind his mother as best as he could.

With a face that clearly portrayed anger, Severus grabbed Vernon by the collar of his night robe and helped heave the heavy man up. Dazed, Vernon allowed the help and seemed able to register that sitting on the ground was not a place that he would want to be. Especially with a wizard looming forebodingly over him.

There was no grace in Severus’s movements as he shoved Dursley into a chair before turning on Petunia and Dudley, his black eyes blazing. “In here. Now,” he commanded.

Petunia jumped to obey, dragging, as best as she could, her son along with her. Dudley clutched his mother’s arm, whimpering pathetically. Harry watched in silent shock as all three Dursleys’ sat obediently staring up at the man in black before them as though he were an angry schoolmaster. Which, actually, was not far from the truth.

“You three have severely disappointed me,” Snape began to pace before Harry’s family. “I do not like to be disappointed,” he leveled each of them with a withered glare.

“W-who a-are you?” Dudley somehow managed to speak, though it was clear that he regretted it afterwards, if his hands clamped over his mouth was any indication.

Rushing over to the fat boy, Snape leaned in, getting perilously close to the child’s face, the way he did with any of his students that he wished to frighten. “I did not say you could speak!” his voice was barely above a whisper.

Straightening back up with such an air of superiority, Severus looked down at them all condescendingly once more. The ferocity in the professor’s eyes made Harry believe that the man was capable of murder, but his face remained in his carefully calculated mask, the one he always wore when at school. But it was becoming clearer to Harry that Snape was much more complicated than he had previously thought. Just how complex was the man that was supposed to be his father?

“S-Snape, you lunatic!” Vernon’s mind finally caught back up with him. “You, you broke my nose!” his voice was much whinier than usual, his tongue sounding thick and awkward.

“You’re lucky that’s all I did!” the Potions Master snapped harshly. “You are so very luck that that’s all I did,” his voice dropped into a cold threat as his eyes narrowed. “I cannot believe that this is how you would treat your nephew,” Severus turned to Petunia, who paled. “After everything, this is how you would treat Lily’s son?”

Tears began to stream down Petunia’s face as her eyes dropped away from her ex-brother-in-law’s face. It was perfectly clear, at least to Harry who knew the signs, that the woman was ashamed of herself; truly and utterly ashamed. But if Snape saw this, he ignored it. There was no compassion on his face, no mercy. Slowly, Harry began to realize that the man was out for blood; from all of them.

“I…I don’t-” Petunia began.

“Save your breath,” the wizard barked. “I do not want excuses from any of you. What I want to know is how…why did you do this to Harry?”

At the other side of the table, Harry began to shift uncomfortably. Although he had always dreamed of this day, dreamed of the day that his relatives would get their just rewards, now that it was happening, he could not help but be afraid for them. After all, Snape was perhaps the worse form of punishment that the boy could think of; much worse, he was sure, than even a Death Eater. But then again, this man did have the Mark.

Nevertheless, Snape was a hard-hearted man, Harry knew. Perhaps the only person that the young wizard knew that could, and would, hold onto a grudge years after that other party involved had died. There had never been a time at Hogwarts that Harry could think of when the professor had tolerated anything but perfection and respect from all of the students. Offending Snape was like writing your name on the executor’s list. So what chance did the Dursleys’ have against the Potions Master?

Looking over at the only family he’d ever known, Harry found himself not wanting to see them get punished after all. There was nothing that appealed to him about watching someone else suffer. But the fact that S- his father was actually taking the trouble to question the Dursleys was an unexpected delight. Hope shined through as Harry thought maybe, just maybe, there was a heart underneath all that blackness and snark.

“So?” Snape’s growl brought Harry out of his pensive state. “Tell me, why did you do this? Why have you been abusing the boy?”

“I don’t know what you’re bloody talking about,” Vernon said, surprisingly have the nerve to talk at all. “We’ve only ever taken care of that brat-”

Before anyone could have reacted, Severus slapped Vernon across the face, leaving a large, ugly handprint on the other man’s cheek. For a moment, the professor was gone, and in his stead stood a soldier.

Vernon turned back to Severus once again with large, horrified eyes. “I’m sorry,” Snape’s voice was steady. “Did that hurt?” When the other did not answer, the wizard sneered viscously. “Don’t like it, do you? Getting hurt I mean. It’s not a pleasant sensation, is it? Not so fun when you’re on the receiving end. But, perhaps it would be better if I went and got a belt? Do you think that would improve anything? I think it would be tremendously fun.”

The sarcasm that dripped from the Potions Master’s words was stifling. There was no remorse on Snape’s face, no pity. Even as the blood continued to pour from Vernon’s nose, the wizard did not seem to care much about it. The mask that Snape adorned today was a bit different than the one he usually wore at school. This one was outraged, so very… betrayed?

“No, no, a belt would be too good for you,” Snape began to pace. “Perhaps a cane? Or maybe I should just use this on you,” he pulled out his ebony wand.

The three Durselys jumped at the sight of the wand, all three staring at it with terrified eyes. Dudley instantly began to cry as he held his butt, hoping that he would not re-grow a tail. Vernon held his hands up, as though he could ward off any magic that was aimed in his direction. And Petunia… she merely sat there, tears still flooding from her sorrowful eyes, as she waited to see what Severus would do.

“For nearly thirteen years,” Snape’s pacing was furious. “Thirteen years you’ve mistreated the child. Why?”

“We’d never hurt a child-” Vernon tried to get out.

“Liar!” Severus was on the man in an instant, like a great black beast sensing easy prey. “Then why the hell did I find this in the cupboard?” he took out the sign that had marked Harry’s bedroom.

Harry paled when he saw his sign. He still remembered making it when he was very young. Uncle Vernon had been out with Dudley, and Aunt Petunia actually let him play with some of Dudley’s crayons. She had even given him a fresh sheet of paper. It had been one of the greatest days in Harry’s young life, and he had always remembered his aunt’s kindness that day. But what had always confused the boy was why his aunt did that? Why had she been so kind one day, a long time ago, and then terrible to him ever since?

Vernon blanched when he saw the sign and Snape, ever the predator, picked up on the other man’s fear. “Recognize it, do you? Yes, it was in the cupboard, along with all of the boy’s school things. You cannot honestly tell me that you care about Harry. What, with the sparsely furnished bedroom upstairs and all of the pictures… none of them had the boy in it at all.” Was that bitterness in the professor’s voice, Harry wondered.

“But now you’re done,” Severus collected himself, his mask firmly in place. “You’re tormenting the child is over. From now on, you’ll not be able to eat, sleep, or take a breath unless I tell you to,” his cold eyes scanned over the family. “From now on, you’ll all be doing everything you’ve made your nephew do in the past. I will treat you like the scum you are, and you will all accept it. You will only speak when spoken to, and then you will only respond ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir’ unless I ask for more elaborate answers.

“You will follow my instructions or you will be punished,” he glared especially hard towards Dudley, sensing the child would be trouble. “You will be waiting on Harry and I, cooking, cleaning, and doing lawn work. If I feel you do not complete your tasks in the time I have given you, you will be punished. And just so you know,” the barest hint of a smile began to shadow his lips, “your telephone no longer works. You cannot call anyone.”

With each passing word, all three of the Dursleys got more and more green looking, making Harry hope they did not get sick. With Snape’s words buzzing in his head, Harry, although pleased, wondered if the professor was bluffing about the punishment aspect of things… But no, the Potions Master never bluffed at anything. He always did exactly what he said he would, which was made clear, but always took you by surprise somehow when he followed through with his threat.

Was Snape really that mad at the Dursleys? After all, the man had not made Harry’s life any easier over the years, and had been just as bad with insults and verbal torments. Although the young wizard had to admit, his professor never stooped to physical abuse, but was not beneath physical punishment either. Was this some sort of new Snape that Harry was seeing, or was this what really lie behind the mask?

“Now,” Severus clasped his hands behind his back. “All of you go get dressed in some work clothes. You will begin your repayment in the next five minutes. Woe to you if you’re late getting back down here,” he scoffed.

“I have work!” Vernon shrieked indignantly. “You can’t expect me to-”

“I said no talking,” Snape snapped, magically shutting the other man’s mouth closed. “And you need not worry about your job,” he sneered. “I already called in and told them you quit.”

While under the spell, Vernon could not bellow his usual rage, but that did not stop him from standing up in outrage, sending his chair flying backwards. But when the fat man realized what he’d done, he seemed to think better of it when Snape was standing in front of him, only a breath away, glaring down at him so contemptuously, that Harry thought his uncle’s skin might melt off the bone.

“That was not very smart,” the wizard growled, taking out his wand, he pointed it at the Muggle’s head.

When Vernon began to tremble, all of his fat jiggling in the process, Snape took a step back in disgust. “Don’t try me, Muggle,” the wizard hissed. “You’ll find that I’m not as restraint as I used to be. Now, go! Get changed. You all have work to do today, and I want you back down here in five minutes. Harry and I are hungry and we want breakfast.”

Dudley up and jumped, flying out of the room so fast, Harry could not remember a time when he had seen his cousin move so quickly. Vernon was almost as bad, still shaking with fright, while Petunia stood up slowly, and all but ran from the room. A curious reaction, Harry thought, but he decided to turn his attention back to… his father.

Snape sat back down near Harry, and took a deep breath before reaching over for the tea. As calm as if he’d just woken up, Snape poured himself a full cup of tea, before giving Harry a glance. “You should really drink that,” he nodded towards the boy’s own cup. “Tea’s never as good cold.”

Grabbing the cup, finding himself thirsty, Harry took a big gulp before setting the cup back upon the saucer. He shyly looked over at the professor, wondering what was going though the man’s mind. “S-sir?” Harry asked quietly, hoping he would not reignite the man’s formidable temper. When Snape’s dark eyes locked on to his own, Harry forced himself to continue. “Sir, how… why did you do that?”

The Potions Master’s face was thoughtful as he looked over the teenager. He regarded Harry for a moment, before he set down his cup. “Because, believe it or not, no one deserves to be treated the way those…three,” he spat, “treated you. Nobody. Especially not you.”

Again, Harry’s heart warmed as he listened to the words carefully. It was the first time anyone had ever said something of the sort to him. Sure, the Weasleys assured him that what his relatives were doing was not right, and Hermione declared that it was all unfair, but no one had ever told Harry that he did not in some way deserve what he got. Of course he knew that he did not, but deep down, the boy always had to wonder. Hearing those words from Snape, of all people, just made Harry glow.

“Th-thank you, sir,” tears welled up in Harry’s eyes, and he found himself cursing. Why did he always have to get so sentimental? Sn-his father was not the sentimental type. “ ‘M sorry,” he mumbled as he wiped his eyes. “I just never had someone stand up for me like that.”

There was a deep frown on Severus’s face as he watched the child. Obsidian eyes regarded the boy carefully before he ever spoke. “Why didn’t you tell Dumbledore?”

Even while the Headmaster’s name was spoke angrily, Harry could still detect concern in the Potions Master’s voice, at which, the boy’s eyes began to water again. “Well,” he trailed off, not wanting to make… his father furious again. “I told him I did not want to come back here, and that the Dursleys hated me, but I never really got into detail.”

Surprisingly, Snape snorted at this. Harry looked up to see a stormy expression on the pale face. When emotions showed through the wizard’s mask, it never boded well for anyone. “And he did not even bother to send someone to check up on you?” he asked incredulously. “He should have known better,” he growled, sending dread flooding through the boy’s limbs.

The two wizards then sat silently together. While Snape seemed unappeasably furious, Harry had a hard time keeping the smile off his face. Someone cared about him. Someone really cared! There was none of this talk about how his relatives could not be as bad as Harry described them, there was none of this shrugging and looking away. Snape, his father, had not even been told, had not even heard Harry complain, and he had figured it all out. He had done something about it for Harry. The thought made the boy feel wonderful.

As told, the Dursleys all came back down the stairs in five minutes, Vernon still holding his nose, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. Severus looked up at him and sneered in disgust. “I suppose I can’t have you bleeding everywhere, can I?” he sounded disappointed.

Taking out his wand once more, the Potions Master pointed it at Vernon. Dudley let out a scream, desperately trying to hide behind his mother, while Petunia actually looked annoyed with her son for once. Sending a quizzical glance at mother and son, Severus tried to ignore them in favor of working on Vernon.

With a quick flick of the ebony wand, there was a slight crunching noise before Vernon doubled over, clutching his nose once more. The big man cried out, tears spring back into his dark eyes. The professor seemed unmoved by the display, and went back to his tea.

“Now,” he said once he was seated. “Petunia,” the woman shrank a bit. “Go make breakfast. Something light, but filling, I think. It seems you starve your nephew,” her eyes fell as more tears leaked out. She merely nodded.

“You,” he growled over at Vernon. “I want you to start scrubbing the couch and carpet in the parlor. When I first came here, I’m afraid I left a bit of a mess. Go get started.”

Vernon looked as though he wanted to argue, but the look on Severus’s face, combined with the silencing charm, even the thickheaded Dursley knew it was useless. So, he found himself waddling over to the cupboard to get out cleaning supplies. He knew from the past that a fight with Snape was rarely ever won. It was as though the wizard could read minds.

Turning his icy black eyes over to Dudley, who now stood before him alone, Snape sneered. “Tell me child,” his voice dropped back into a silky smooth deception. “What do you like to do?”

The whale of a child began gasping like a fish out of water, his blue eyes wide with fear. He began to shake as he found himself falling into the empty tunnels of Snape’s eyes. There was nothing in those eyes at the moment. Nothing. Had it not been for the rise and fall of the man’s chest, one could easily mistake the professor for dead.

“I-I-I l-li-ike t-to p-p-play m-my vid-eo g-games,” he managed to speak.

“Video games?” Snape looked thoughtful for a moment before his face dropped back into a nasty delighted expression. “Well child, you won’t get to be playing any of those soon. Now, go stand with your nose in the corner until I tell you to stop. Go!”

The house shook when Dudley jumped to obey. A look of disgust passed over the Potions Master’s face, but he said nothing as he turned back to Harry. The boy watched his new father with something akin to awe.

When Severus noticed the child staring at him, he turned to face Harry. “Tea?” he asked.

1994

The breakfast that Harry and Severus shared together was a reasonably quiet affair. Indeed, neither one spoke at all to one another, but every once and a while Snape would bark at Dudley to stay put or he would glue his feet to the floor. The other child had simply whimpered at this, not daring to say anything at all.

Harry found his appetite was quite healthy that morning and ate what was given to him. But unlike most teenage boys, this young wizard could not eat quite as much. After years of being starved, especially during the more crucial stages of development, Harry was shorter and frankly, weaker than the others in his year. But he was getting more food over the years he spent at Hogwarts and was using it to his advantage.

Severus, on the other hand, never ate much for breakfast. Usually, while in school, the professor ate only a slice of toast and some fresh fruit with black coffee or hot tea. But he ate the French toast Petunia had prepared. He did not thank the woman, of course, not even when she cleared the table, but sat deceivingly calm, sipping on the coffee that woman had made him.

“P-Harry,” the Potions Master corrected himself quickly. “If you are agreed to it, I need to borrow your owl. I need to get a message to the Headmaster to tell him of my…situation here.”

“You’re going to tell?” Harry was a bit surprised. He did not quite know what to think of the idea of Dumbledore knowing.

Scowling disdainfully, Severus set down his coffee cup. “If you are referring to informing the Headmaster of our… newly discovered relationship, then no. I have no plans of telling the old man about that.” The young wizard could not quite believe Snape had the nerve to call Albus Dumbledore ‘old man’, but tried to ignore it. “I wish to inform him of my compromised position as spy.”

Although he had expected it, Harry still had a hard time thinking of his teacher as a spy. It seemed so…odd. Snape certainly looked nothing like, and acted nothing like for that matter, James Bond. Although he had to admit, the man was fantastic at surprising people and sneaking up on them. How many times had be glided over behind Neville and made the poor Gryffindor jump, spilling his potion everywhere?

“Sure,” Harry shrugged. “I’m sure Hedwig wouldn’t mind. She needs to get out and stretch.”

“Which reminds me,” the Potions Master turned away. “Vernon? When you’re done, go clean out the owl’s cage. It was filthy!”

Although he knew he should not, Harry found himself smiling. Perhaps having Snape show up was not such a bad thing after all. The man had not really gotten too angry with him yet, just a few snaps and growls here and there; but the younger wizard was use to that. He would have been surprised if Snape hadn’t been angry with him at least once in twenty-four hours. This new Snape was… refreshing actually, the more Harry thought about it.

Harry found that while lost in thought, his… father was staring at him. While over the years at Hogwarts, the young wizard had gotten used to people staring at him, even Dumbledore, it still unnerved him when the Potions Master’s gaze landed on him. Those black eyes were heavy, as though the man were piling mounds of coal upon Harry’s shoulders. What was the man always looking for? A week ago Harry would have said faults, weaknesses, but now… Now he was not so sure.

“I assume you have not had time to do your summer lessons?” at last the deep voice sounded once the younger wizard had looked up.

“Uh, no, sir, I have not.”

With his ebony wand out once more, and a quick squeak from Dudley, Severus moved Harry’s school truck into the kitchen beside the boy. Harry watched, still amazed at any sort of magic, especially if it was in his own house. He found himself wishing Uncle Vernon was in the room to see it. The fat man also loved to witness magic.

Once everything was arranged, Snape nodded, almost as though acknowledging his own work, before he looked back at Harry. “Since you will not be doing any chores while here, you are to spend an hour, at the very least, on your studies each day.”

“An hour?” Harry could not help but be outraged. “Every day?”

A scowl returned to the Potions Master’s face, for the first time that day directed at Harry. “Yes, an hour every day,” black eyes narrowed. “One would think you did not want to go to Hogwarts or become a better wizard. Even the greatest wizards had to learn at one point it time. Actually, you will never stop learning.”

The speech was met with a frown from Harry. He had not meant that he did not want to learn. He actually loved learning about new things, but with his reputation, or rather, the reputation James Potter left behind for him, Harry could not actually express his true self to anyone. But what he had meant to express was that everyday in the summer seemed a little overboard to him. After all, summers were there to enjoy and have fun, not be forced to work and read all the time.

“You will be working now,” Snape commanded seriously. “Petunia,” he barked. “Leave the dishes. Porkin’s over there can deal with them,” he jerked his head towards Dudley.

The fat boy turned and gawked at the wizard for a moment. “I’ve never done the dishes!” he whined. “I don’t wanna do the dishes! That’s Harry’s job!”

With each word Dudley said, Harry could tell that the professor was getting more and more angry. Whining was never a good thing to do in front of the Potions Master. Harry recalled a time when a Hufflepuff had the misfortune of whining in Snape’s class room only to get twenty points taken off his house, along with the most terrible detention anyone could imagine. Lewis never talked about it much, but from what anyone could make of it, Snape had shown him some sort of slide about all the misfortunate souls that really were out there. Lewis had nightmares for three months after.

Standing up, towering over the fat child, Severus glowered down at the boy, black eyes flashing with anger. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” he asked dangerously. “How dreadfully terrible it must be not to know how to do anything. But, child, I’m giving you an unexpected treat; I’m going to let you do the dishes. Now you might actually get a job somewhere when you’re older and not just go wandering the streets.”

Behind his hands, Harry snickered. Oh yes, poor unfortunate Dudley. It was true though; if the other boy learned now, he might be able to get a job somewhere washing dishes. It would be the only thing his cousin would be able to do as he knew absolutely nothing else except video games and bullying.

“Get to work!” Snape barked, and once again, the fat boy obeyed. “Petunia,” Severus turned to the woman. “Come with me.”

Harry felt a wave of dread and pity flash over him as he watched his aunt go. What was the professor going to do to her? Snape had not seemed too angry with her until this morning. Was he going to torture his aunt? Surely not, he and Petunia had known each other too long for that, right? Or perhaps he just wanted to question each of the Dursleys separately?

Sighing, Harry watched as his aunt and his new father walked to the front of the stairs. The master wizard motioned up the steps for Petunia to go, but instead of following her up, Snape apparated up the stairs himself. Why would he do that? But Harry supposed he should not question, and when he tore his eyes away from the hall, the whole house was silent again with the exception of Dudley clinking silverware and plates together while washing and Vernon’s scrubbing of the couch and floor.

Deciding that there was nothing else for it, the young wizard decided that worrying would not help matters any, and pulled out a blank piece of parchment and took out a quill and ink. Smoothing out the paper, he grabbed his Transfiguration book and began to write his essay.

&&&&&

Severus was waiting at the top of the staircase for Petunia, who looked absolutely sick. He jerked his head, indicating that she should follow, before they entered the master bedroom. The large door closed behind them, and the two childhood playmates stood for a moment looking at each other.

“Sit,” Snape instructed, as he began to pace across the room.

For once, the Muggle did not argue with the younger man. She sat perfectly still as she waited for the wizard’s harsh words to slap her again. From the past, Petunia had learned that Severus’s tongue could be just as hurtful as his hand. It was a rare gift to have such a tongue that could cut down anyone in any circumstance, but it was a skill that the man before her had mastered.

With wide, expectant eyes, Petunia waited for Severus to continue, watching anxiously as the wizard paced across the room like a trapped animal, just waiting for a chance to get out. “I don’t…” he started, his voice nearly shouting. “I don’t understand this,” he recollected himself. “Why would you do this to your nephew? Why would you do this to Lily’s son? How could you?”

With a face whiter than snow, Petunia stared up with watery eyes. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

Scowling, the wizard stopped his pacing abruptly. “You don’t know?” he scoffed. “Come, come now, don’t give me that! You had a reason for doing this to Harry and I would have it!”

Petunia sat perfectly still, ringing her hands desperately. Her eyes were red rimmed from crying and her mouth was a thin line. Every so often it was apparent that she was trembling with fright, but she forced herself to sit tall before her questioner. If he had not been so angry, Severus might have stopped a moment to admire her courage; but he was not in the mood to admire anything at the moment. All he wanted to do was be angry.

“I’m-I’m not going to give you an… an excuse, Severus,” she said quietly, her eyes falling, unable to hold the burning coals that were the wizard’s eyes.

The declaration was met with a stunned silence, a look out outrage and frustration on the man’s face. Flipping his cloak dramatically, Severus began pacing furiously. His robes' normal billow was stifled by the furniture in the room, and contented themselves by flapping violently around their master like great black waves threatening to consume the wearer.

Suddenly, Severus turned on Petunia, and was sitting next to her, only a few feet away. “Tell me,” his eyes now related everything his voice could not. “Give me an excuse.”

Silence flooded the room as the two stared at each other; Severus with pleading eyes, Petunia with haunted, wet eyes. Her bottom lip began to quiver as she looked into the wizard’s face, and for the first time, realized just how much this man hurt. What had happened to the little boy she had know all those years ago?

Years ago, when Severus and Lily had been married, there had been life within the black eyes. Now, there was nothing but broken shards of obsidian. The emptiness in those eyes was heart wrenching. Severus had always been the rough and tumble sort of boy, always taking what life dealt out for him with his chin lifted defiantly, even as his spirit was slowly starting to corrode away into nothing. But now, where once fire had been, there was nothing at all. There had been glimmers of the old Severus, fleeting moments, but it could never quite fill the emptiness, the utter despair that she now saw. What could have happened to break the man, to suffocate all warmth out of him?

Taking a shaky breath, Petunia had to look away, lest she fall into the empty tunnels of despair, never to emerge again. “D…do you know what happened after… after Lily and James’s death?” she asked carefully.

Scenes and memories of Azkaban flashed in Severus’s head, reminding him of those cold, desperate days when he had nothing to look forward to except daily visits from the Dementors. The only hope he had had was that Dumbledore would find out what happened to him and save him. But days turned into weeks, weeks into months before the old wizard came to get him. And by then, Severus had quite lost his mind, with little hope of returning into sanity. Yet, he had fought, and he had come out of his hellish nightmares until he had finally formed into the man he was today: the lonely, hated, precise, impatient man he was today…

“I did not hear all of the news, I am sure,” his voice dropped, as did his head. Shame washed through him as he remembered how scared he had been while imprisoned, how he had longed for death, but would never give his guards the satisfaction of giving up. Instead, he had let them see him slip away, deep into his mind, as though he were insane. Had it been better? The wizard did not know, but what could be done about it now?

“Well,” Petunia went on, unaware of the wizard’s silent distress. “That night, when… when it all happened, that- that Headmaster came at night and set Harry on the doorstep in a basket with a letter explaining everything that had happened.”

Severus growled. The old fool had just left Harry on the doorstep? With no protection? With nothing but a blanket and a letter explaining himself? Disgust seeped into his stomach as he could just picture the little baby he had held in his arms years ago, alone and helpless: orphaned.

And where was he? He should have been there for his son. He should have protected the child and his mother. There was no excuse for abandoning his family, leaving them in the hands of the Dark Lord and Dumbledore. But then again, he had been the one stupid enough to get arrested that night while running from the wreckage.

“We found him the next morning,” the woman went on, lost in her own memories. “Vernon wanted to take him to the orphanage, told me that we had no business with the child. But I had insisted that we take him in. Vernon and I… well, we fought. Constantly. Marge, Vernon’s sister, told us that we should drown Harry.” Severus snapped up his head, outrage flaring to life. “But I never let them too near,” Petunia said hastily. “I would not let them touch my sister’s son.

“But as time when on,” the woman’s eyes gazed over. “I watched Harry grow, and my marriage was… not what I ever wanted it to be. When Harry turned two, I found I could hardly look at him anymore. All I saw was James Potter. There was so very little of Lily in him that I saw, other than his eyes. And the more I dwelled upon it, the more… insulted I grew.”

Severus’s breath caught as he listened. What Petunia was describing was exactly how he had felt when he saw a picture of Harry when he was ten that Dumbledore had shown him. The face that was so blatantly James’s, with little of Lily’s features in it at all, had been infuriating. The pain and bitterness had been crushing. So when the boy had first come to Hogwarts, it had been very easy to hate the child. He was horrified with the similarities between himself and Petunia.

“And when Vernon suggested that we put him in the cupboard…” tears spilled from her already swollen eyes. “I-I agreed. I did not want a boy that looked like James Potter running around. I did not want a reminder of the man that had ruined my sister’s life being happy. And slowly, very slowly, I accepted the way Vernon was starting to mistreat the boy. And the more room I gave him to do what he wanted, the more I realized that our marriage was getting better, and the less he… he hit me.”

“Oh Petunia!” Severus was actually horrified. What had happened to the fiercely independent woman that he had known years ago?

When the wizard’s mask slipped into pity and disappointment was when the woman broke down into sobs. She threw her arms around the Potions Master’s neck and just bawled, not caring if he hexed her when she let go. She just wanted to hold onto something real, something she knew would not let her fall. Lily had trusted Severus, why couldn’t she?

Taken back at the sudden contact, Severus held still, flinching only slightly at the sudden embrace. But realizing that the woman needed some comfort, the wizard was only sorry he did not have any to give. He had never been able to comfort anyone… except Lily. But he was hardly the man he used to be. There was nothing left in him to help this woman. Was there?

“Petunia,” Severus lowered his voice into a soothing drone. “Petunia, please collect yourself.”

After another moment or so, the woman did eventually sit back up, wiping her eyes, her cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry,” she gasped between tears. “I…I’m such a horrible person! I never wanted any of this to happen! I just… I just couldn’t help it. I never wanted to have a marriage like your-” she cut herself off, looking up horrified.

The expression on Severus’s face was once again cold and stony. Any compassion that had been there briefly before was now gone. In its place was yet again a terrible nothingness that seemed the norm with the wizard.

“Like my parents,” he filled in for her, knowing her thoughts.

When the Muggle woman nodded pathetically, Severus turned away. He was not angry with her for not wanting to be like his parents. Who could? Tobias and Eileen Snape’s relationship was one of the most mysterious and horrible tales Severus had ever come across. There was no affection between the pair, nor had he ever been able to sense any, and there was certainly no respect. Whatever had driven his parents together, the Potions Master would never know, but it had led him to want a better life, a better relationship than those two had had.

Standing up, Severus moved to walk out the door, leaving the woman to collect herself, when Petunia called out, “Where are you going?”

Stopping, but not looking back, Severus felt himself stiffen. “I’m going to get that fat slob you call a husband,” he growled.

“Don’t hurt him!” she pleaded.

Spinning around, Snape was next to the woman again in an instant. “Why?” he hissed. “Why not? How can you stand that…that bastard? He's hurt you and lied to you! I don’t understand why you love him!”

“I don’t love him,” Petunia’s eyes hardened.

“Then why in Merlin’s name did you marry him?” Severus demanded.

“Oh, come on Severus,” her voice held bitterness. “You know as well as I do that I could never refuse a well established man that showed an interest in me. I’ve never been as pretty as Lily, or as noticeable. For a while there, Vernon made me feel…special.”

Again, unwittingly, Severus felt sorry for the woman before him. He knew all too well what it was like not to feel worth anything, having been told he wasn’t almost every day of his life. He could actually understand falling into a trap where someone appreciated something you had, and falling into the pit when a couple of compliments had been given. That’s how he managed to ruin his life by employing himself in with the Dark Lord.

“I will not… permanently harm him,” the wizard growled. “But he cannot be allowed to get away with what he’s done either. He will have to face his crimes.”

Staring at the wizard for a moment, Petunia finally nodded. “I understand.”

Stand back up, Severus reached the door way, and was about to apparate back downstairs when he found himself looking back at the door with the many locks and bolts upon it. A shiver ran down his spine.

“Severus. Harry can’t stay here,” Petunia said quietly from behind.

“I know.”

1965

Sitting in the corner, knees up to his chest, the little raven haired boy bit his bottom lip in an attempt not to cry. But his effort was futile as large tears rolled down his shallow cheeks. He sat shaking, whether more from cold or from fright, no one could tell. But the bruises on his face told volumes of his sad story.

“Severus,” came a call from above.

Looking up, the boy saw his mother on the staircase, her dulling brown hair hanging limply about her pale face. Her brown eyes were glazed over with fatigue and irritation. She was not a beautiful witch, but Eileen Snape was not ugly either. Her figure was slight and wiry, looking rather sickly to the eye, and thus, compelling the onlooker to feel pity. But her temper was formidable and her strength surprising.

“What are you doing down here in the cellar?” she questioned, wrapping her thick, green robe about herself more securely.

It was terribly hard to keep from crying, but the little boy found that he could not in front of his mother. “F-father was a-angry with me an-and threw me in here,” he answered. There was no use getting into details. He had no desire to hear his parents arguing about this tonight.

Frowning, Eileen jerked her head up the stairs. “Get out of here child. This is no place for you in the dead of winter. Can’t afford for you to get sick,” she turned her back on him and walked back up the steps.

Scrambling to his feet, as best as he could in his fragile condition, Severus rushed to the stairs before stopping to collect himself. His mother always told him to be careful on the stairs, and he had minded her. He once saw his father try to push his mother down the stairs, and ever since then,he tried to be as careful as he could. His father watching him like a hungry animal every time he walked by had helped him grow a healthy paranoia as well.

Taking one step at a time, hand on the railing, the little boy managed to get out of the cellar and into the relative heat of the main floor. A sigh escaped his lips as he hurried away to get to his room. If his father caught him it would not be very good. The five year old never understood why his father liked to hit him, but that was probably just because he was a stupid little moron. Father said so.

Once again facing the steps, Severus began to climb again. As he climbed, he began to ponder his recent punishment. All he had done was ask if he could get a blanket. Was that really so bad? It was quite drafty in the house, and the child had been shivering all morning. But Father had only stood up and started hitting him, like he always did, before “escorting” him down into the cellar, where he received another beating before being locked down there. It was late in the afternoon now.

The child made it up the steps, only to hear his father come storming out of his bedroom. The man did not look pleased; but when did he ever? As he passed, Tobias sneered down at the boy. “Little bastard,” he muttered.

Severus had learned long ago to ignore such statements. He did not quite know what they meant, but he understood the manner in which they were being spoken. There was no use dwelling on them, wondering how to change his father’s opinion of him because nothing ever changed. So, determined to go crawl in his bed, under his single sheet for warmth, the little boy tried to walk past his father.

Tobias’s raging black eyes watched as his son moved by him. “Insolent brat!” he spat, before grabbing the boy around the chest and practically throwing him down the steps.

There was little else Severus could do but scream. He was scared, and he was sorry, so very sorry that he had done something wrong again. If only his father would tell him why he was an insolent brat. If only his father made a list of rules, maybe then the child would be able to please the man. He was too young to realize that there were no set rules with Tobias; he did not understand that the rules would keep changing.

After several steps, Severus felt himself come to a halt and lifted up without anyone touching him. Looking around with wild eyes, he saw that his mother was standing at the bottom of the stairwell with her wand out. Eileen rarely used her wand, but it always intrigued her son when she did.

“What the hell did I tell you about using that Goddamn thing!” Tobias bellowed, thundering down the steps.

Setting down the child, not all too gently, Eileen spun on her husband. “What did you think you were doing, hurting the boy? You know we can’t afford for you to send him to the hospital again! People have already been asking question!”

And the argument ensued. While the adults were fighting, Severus took the chance to run up the steps he had fallen down, and into his room, desperate that no one would hear him.

More tears spilled from the black eyes as he curled up under his sheet. He was so cold, and tired, and he hurt awfully! He did not think he had ever been so scared in his life, like he had been when he found himself flying through the air, and falling down the steps. It had been terrible!

He cried harder, which hurt his ribs, when he thought about his father. What had he done? What could he change to make his father happy? Why was he being punished this way? If only they would tell him! He would change! He could be what they wanted him to be, anything they wanted him to be!

But no answers would ever come to these questions. As the child wept softly in the dark room, he suddenly remembered a very important thing. “Happy birthday, Sev,” he whispered to himself, before he fell into an uneasy sleep.

When he got to the staircase, Severus thought about apparating back down, avoiding the wretched steps altogether, but he had a plan that required more stealth. The crack after the apparating would give him away. Petunia was not likely to come out until she had completely composed herself, so…

Sucking it up and pushing down his phobia, Severus adorned his professor mentality before placing a hand on the rail and silently gliding down the steps. Peering into the parlor, the wizard found Vernon Dursley on his hands and knees scrubbing the carpet, his face purple. The couch looked to have already been scrubbed, but it still had the stain on it. A disgraceful mess really.

As he watched the overweight man, the wizard had a hard time not hexing the man. Anger boiled up inside Severus so hot that he could almost not stand looking at the cow any longer. Harry Potter… no, Severin Harrison Tiberius Snape, might have a rebellious attitude at times, and a talent for unsettling everything, but that gave Dursley no right, no right at all, to hurt Severus’s son!

As the Slytherin watched the other, his eyes narrowed into slits. The world would be such a better place without the likes of Vernon Dursley in it; he was as bad as a Tobias Snape! But then Tobias had met his end cruelly; Severus just wondered if this man was destined to have a similar fate. But no, whatever Severus had been in the past, he was no longer a Death Eater. He would not stoop to killing this insufferable Muggle, no matter how disgusting this man was. Snape had played God by taking lives before, he had no desire to try it again. He never really had the stomach for it anyway.

Slipping into the room silently, the Potions Master sat in a large chair that had an indent in it, which he supposed one of the Dursley men occupied frequently. He watched a bit before he found himself becoming too nauseated with the sight before him. “You missed a spot,” he said dryly.

Immediately, Vernon’s head snapped up, his eyes wide, looking very much like the proverbial deer in the headlights. He looked like he would say something, but of course, he did not have a voice in which to speak, causing a small smile on the wizard’s face. The Muggle shuddered visibly.

“I would speak to you, Vernon,” Severus tried to keep calm, even as he felt his temper pounding against his shield of calm. “I want to know why you hate Harry so much, and why you would hurt him.”

Taking out his wand and waving it in an impatient, jerky movement, Snape lifted the silencio, allowing the man to speak freely. There was slight satisfaction as the wizard watched the other flinch and hold up his arms up in vain attempt to protect himself. Of course, there was nothing for him to fear, but Severus was not going to let the Muggle know that.

“Now,” the wizard leaned forward slightly in his chair. “Tell me your reasons for harming P-Harry?”

Sitting on the floor in a most undignified manner, Vernon seemed to be thinking of anything he could say or do to appease the Potions Master, as though he believed he could bribe his way out of all of this. Not bleeding likely! the wizard thought indignantly.

“I,” the fat man began, as though testing his voice. When he discovered that he could once again speak, Severus steeled himself for an onslaught of ridiculous comments. “Well you see,” he began again. “That boy in there, Severus, is not like you and me. He’s unnatural, even for your kind.”

Although his expression was a stony blank, the older wizard had a hard time of not shutting the man up again, or worse. No, Vernon Dursley had not changed at all. The man was still so unbelievably unbearable that it was suffocating.

“Do get to your point,” the wizard snapped, remaining dormant in hopes of getting the information he wanted. After the life he had had, Severus had become very good at waiting.

“Well, you see,” the fat man went on. “I realized he was trouble, right from the start, I did! And he was no good as a child, always mouthing off. And his father was a terrible man, Severus, with that you’ll have to agree, and the boy’ll grow up just like him, mark my words! I know you didn’t like Potter either!”

Folding his hands neatly in his lap, while gripping them together so hard that his knuckles whitened, Severus let his lips curl upwards in another small smile. The act seemed to both encourage and unnerve the man that sat on the floor. As Vernon squirmed, Severus hoped that all of his ill will could be sent towards the man with just his eyes.

“You are right,” his voice was again silky and dangerous. “I never did like James Potter. But as for the boy,” his voice dropped. “I hope that he will turn out like his father. The more so the better. For you see Vern, Potter wasn’t the boy’s father. I am.” Vernon stared up at the wizard, horrified. “And I am here now to extract very severe punishment upon you,” the Potions Master lost his smile, allowing his full fury to show through.

Vernon paled, understanding now that he had been caught.

&&&&&

In the kitchen, Harry found that he could not work on his homework, not with the events of the past day and a half going through his mind. Snape was his father, the Potions Master was his father. It was surreal. It was ludicrous! It was true.

The young wizard let his mind wander to other things besides homework. Like, how did his mum fall in love with Snape, of all people? And if she had been in love with Snape, his father, then why had she married his f- James Potter at all?

Sitting up straighter with a thought, Harry remembered the letter his mother had written to him. Glancing at Dudley and then towards the door to the parlor, the wizard decided that neither one of them could harm him while his professor was in the house, so he got up and dashed up the stairs and into his bedroom.

Hedwig hooted to him softly as he rushed inside. Harry smiled at her as he snatched his letter off the desk. “Come on if you want to get out of here,” he coaxed. “No one can hurt you now!”

Understanding, the Snowy Owl leaped into the air and flew out the door. Harry smiled as he watched her go, but as he left the room himself, he stopped in the hall and looked towards his aunt and uncle's bedroom. He wondered what was being said in there. After all, it did not take a genius to figure out that Snape had been angry with Petunia. Hopefully nothing too terrible was being said to her.

Racing back down the stairs, the young wizard peeked open the kitchen door, half expecting Snape to be standing there with his arms crossed, tapping his foot in impatient disapproval. But all that was there were his school supplies and Dudley, still mumbling about stupid magic and awful wizards. The Gryffindor smiled as he listened.

Sitting back down, Hedwig landing on the back of the chair,  Harry opened the letter from his mother carefully. Even though he now craved to know more about his…parents' relationship, the young wizard was also apprehensive. If he opened this and accepted Snape as his father, then where would that leave James Potter? James had given his life to protect Harry, not to mention give all of his wealth and his name. Harry had no desire to simply cut James out of the equation. Besides, Snape and James had hated one another, what had happened to make his mother simply turn the tables on both men and switch from one to the other at apparently random times?

Staring down at the letter in his hands, Harry found that once again that he did not want to open this letter, though not opening it was killing him. Snape was his father, Aunt Petunia had said so, and Snape himself seemed to have remembered past memories that he claimed Dumbledore hid from him. This letter might explain everything. Perhaps it would let him see the true man behind the impassive veneer and allow him to accept the man he had hated for three years.

Breaking open the seal, he noticed it consisted of an intricate letter “S” which supposedly stood for Snape. The parchment was fine and thick, holding a hue of maroon, making Harry’s lips curl into a smile. He began to read his mother’s scrawl in shining green ink.

With tears in his eyes, Harry smiled at his mother’s light heartedness. He wished he had known her…But on with my real reason for writing. Until you’ve received this letter, you would have gone by the name of Harry James Potter. I write that you may know the truth, my dear, as the truth is one of the most powerful things in the world. I am afraid that I have some rather shocking news to inform you of, that being, you are not the son of James Potter.

Please do not be distressed, my love! I am sorry if this is a nasty shock for you, but my deception was necessary, I assure you. You see, your own, excellent father died before he even knew of your conception while in service to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, who is at this time, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You see, your father was in the rather dangerous employment of spying. He died while in a raid between Death Eaters and Aurors.

To see his mother truly believe that Snape, his real father, was dead hurt. It hurt much more than Harry would have thought. His mother had honestly believed the Headmaster when he had informed her of the Potions Master’s death. It was almost sickening, but he continued on with the letter.

But you are wondering about James Potter. You see, I dated James while in school in my six and seventh years, hoping, by a foolish, flippant notion, that I could get your father’s attention if I dated his rival. But I quickly discovered that I did not love James, nor did I like him. But he was a popular student and a powerful wizard as well. Soon I realized that I simply could not end a relationship with James. He would never have allowed it, and as time went on and we graduated from school, I found myself engaged to Potter, with some encouragement from the Headmaster.

As time when on, James became an Auror and a member of a secret organization called the Order of the Phoenix. His attention towards me had never been what I wanted them to be, and as he now had “bad guys” to chase, his attention slipped into almost disregard, but he would not release me from our engagement. For you see, what James Potter wanted, James Potter got. I was miserable, and since I had angered your father, pushing him over the edge, I found myself doomed to be Lily Potter.

The account of James was shocking, to say the least. Harry found that his mouth was hanging open. When he had first learned of the wizarding world, all accounts of James Potter that Harry had heard, the exception coming from Snape, said that the wizard was a good man. The very best of men actually. But his mother said differently!

The way in which Lily described Snape, made the Potions Master seem like a hero! But it amazed Harry that he had never heard any praise from anyone about Snape’s deeds. Sure, they complemented him on his potion making and other school related item, but for a man that had risked his life and helped bring down the fall of Voldemort, the man was sadly unrecognized!

Harry had to smile once again. Snape must have had his stupidity of Gryffindors speech worked out before he became a professor. He could just see his mother smile softly as she wrote this sentence. It warmed Harry’s heart.

Sitting back in his chair, Harry looked out into space, not really seeing the kitchen he was in. Snape had been the good guy and James the bad? Dumbledore had mislead his mother into thinking the Potions Master was dead? Snape had wanted kids? This was not even his true appearance!

At that moment, Severus walked into the room with Vernon in tow. He glanced at Harry and noticed the boy was white. Looking down, the professor noticed the letter on the table. “Dear Merlin, what now?” he muttered.

It was then that Harry realized that his father was in the room at all. And it came as a greater surprise when he realized that it was indeed, his birthday.

1994

The first thing that flashed through the Potions Master’s mind when he saw Harry sitting at the table bone white, with tears in his eyes was that the boy was hurt, or injured in some manner. The alarm he felt for the boy was surprising, as this was still the same boy he had hated three years running. But no, he had not hated the boy per se, he had hated that fact that the child had been running around trying to act like the next James Potter. Beside, half his snark was to throw off the Death Eaters’ children. It would not do for one of the loyal to be seen showing favoritism for the Boy-Who-Killed-The-Master, now would it? Well… maybe not half….

But when the Potions Master’s eyes fell upon the paper in Harry’s hands, all of his panic was squeezed out of him, replaced only with tiredness. “Dear Merlin, what now?” it slipped out before he could think any better of it.

The boy’s head snapped up and looked over at Severus in a wide, frightened way; his green eyes panicked. But once realizing that he was staring at the professor, the boy’s eyes sobered into a composed veneer once more.

The sudden change from one extreme to the other was enough to fray the master wizard’s already badly damaged nerves. Without his consent, Severus found himself angry with the boy. Changing emotions like that was not healthy, he should know. Why couldn’t the boy just stay with one or the other? Perhaps then Snape might know what to do!

Stalking farther into the kitchen, literally dragging Vernon behind him, the professor looked down at his student. “What’s wrong?” he asked, eyeing the letter suspiciously. He was not sure what all Lily would tell her son if she thought Severus was dead. It made the wizard more than a little uncomfortable.

It was surprising when Harry stared up at his professor with equal, or perhaps more, doubt. For just a moment, the old Snape was back. Seeing that Potter brat glaring at him as he was, was enough to make Severus want to shake him until the child learned some manners. What was he looking for?

But not for the first time, Severus had to chant to himself that this was not the son of James Potter, this was his son. If there was any imperfection with the child’s breeding, it was probably Severus’s fault, as he would never blame Lily. Whatever this boy did, whatever he had been, the professor vowed to push it all aside, and break the child of all his stupid habits. He’d be damned before he let his son be the model for the Gryffindors!

“What is it?” Severus snapped, taking a seat across the table, as though he were dealing with a Death Eater.

Green eyes looked up at Severus again, causing the Potions Master’s heart to stop again. Why did he have to have her eyes? “I’m fine sir,” Harry responded softly. “Just… just a bit of a shock really.”

Noticing that Vernon and… the other boy- he would really have to learn that whale's name- were in the room, Severus began to feel at an acute disadvantage. “You,” he pointed at Vernon. “Go clean out that owl’s cage. We’ll discuss you’re punishment later,” he watched in satisfaction as the fat man trembled slightly before he left to do what he was told. “And you,” the wizard barked over to Dudley. “Go stand in the corner in the other room. No one wants to see you here.”

Dudley waited until he saw his father move before going. But at Snape’s command of “Now!” the boy charged into the parlor. Harry winced slightly, hoping nothing in there would fall and break. His cousin really did need to loose some weight… a lot of weight.

“P-Harry,” Snape’s mistake was corrected instantly, but the boy had still caught it. “What is wrong? Was there something in that letter you don’t understand?”

Although the Potions Master’s voice was not scathing, it was not necessarily gentle either. The man looked impatient and… worried? There was a distinctly uncomfortably air around the man, making Harry wonder if Sn- his father, was worried that there was something in the letter that he did not want Harry to know. Who really knew what went on in Snape’s mind? No one could ever tell. That’s why he made a good teacher, in a way.

“It’s… nothing, sir. I just…” Harry trailed off.

Underneath the table, Severus was ringing his hands. Being Head of Slytherin House, the Potions Master was used to dealing with distraught and whiny teenagers. Usually he just told them some useless garbage Minerva had told him to say about how life goes on or suck it up because things could be worse, but he felt that that would not do in this situation. However, he did feel a bit of pride in himself when he looked back on his candid advice and how his House respected his words and always followed what he had told them and they came out the better for it. But no, telling Harry to stop crying and do his homework would not resolve this situation. For either of them really.

“You are distressed,” the professor stated bluntly. “I assume that you’re distress is rooted in that letter. Tell me what’s wrong.” Not the most eloquent thing he had ever said, but Severus was a straight forward kind of man at heart. Everyone expected him to be that way.

Harry looked up at his f-father, and studied the man for a moment. His mother had fallen in love with the man, so there had to be something under all of Snape’s snark and impatience. There had to be something in this man that would inspire affection. Heck, even all the Slytherins liked the man. Even the Slytherins that were in trouble with the man still seemed to admire Snape. There had to be something more, deep down, something that could only be seen once you had been with the professor long enough.

“Mum said that this wasn’t my true appearance,” Harry blurted, his eyes wide and pleading.

The sudden rush of words caught Severus by surprise, but he managed to work them out, somehow, in his mind. He frowned at the boy across from him. “Well of course that’s not your true appearance!”

The declaration was once again met with silence. Severus was actually the more shocked of the two at the moment. It was logical that Harry, the product of Lily and Severus, would not look anything like James Potter. But that fact had not yet blossomed in the Potions Master’s mind until that moment. Harry would not, should not, look like James Potter!

This was not James Potter’s son!

“But I,” Harry’s talking snapped Severus out of his happy revelation. “I like the way I look.”

All joy drained from Severus instantly. Why had he gotten so excited? The boy was perfectly content with being the son of James Potter, even if it was a lie. Who would want to be known as the son of Severus Snape? Of course Harry liked his appearance now, no one wanted to look like a Snape. It was amazing how much the wizard found himself disappointed and… and hurt.

When the Potions Master looked at the child closely, he found that all he could see was the little baby he had held in his arms, unable to make the connection of James Potter at all. He could still see the soft fluff of raven hair the boy had had even then, and the bright, sparkling green eyes that had looked up at him with absolute trust and affection. It had nearly killed him that night, and Severus thought it might finish the job here and now.

“Of course,” he tried to sound uncaring. “It’s only natural. You want to look like the only father you’ve ever known. You’ve had the face for years.”

Harry was startled by the bitterness in the professor’s voice. Was Snape actually… offended by Harry’s comment? Was the man hurt that the younger wizard was not enthused about changing his appearance? Why should Snape care, it wasn’t his face that was going to change! But then again, it was the face of James Potter on the shoulder’s of Snape’s son.

“Well, I just meant that it was going to take some getting used to, is all,” Harry said quickly. He did not want to hurt the man. After all, Snape was his father now, and the last thing he had ever wanted to do was hurt a family member… except Vernon. Oh, and perhaps Dudley.

The feared professor lifted an eyebrow in response. “I see,” his voice was quiet. “I believe it would,” he admitted. “Was there anything else that was troubling you?”

Shaking his head, Harry looked back down at the letter in his hands. “No. I was just… just wondering what I would look like now.”

Severus looked up sharply. Harry wanted to know what he should look like? The boy wanted to give up the appearance of the glorified James Potter? Why? Was the child trying to spare Severus’s feelings? That was something new to the wizard. No one, with the exception of Lily, had ever gone out of their way to make sure that he had not been hurt or offended.

“I could…try to remove the spell off of you,” Severus offered, finding himself becoming excited once again. “But I would have to know what spell was place over you. Does it say in the letter?”

“No,” Harry shook his head again. “But Mum said it was in the journal that she kept.”

Severus nodded and took out his wand. “Accio Lily’s journal,” he commanded, and a moment later, the leather bound journal came zooming down from upstairs and into the Potions Master’s hand.

It was easily caught by the long fingered hand, and instantly, Snape started flipping through the pages. Harry watched silently as the professor worked. He noted that the Slytherin seemed far too… excited about this. It actually made Harry smile. Perhaps deep down, the Potions Master did have a heart, you just had to know how to touch it.

“Here,” the deep voice spoke. “I found it,” he said unnecessarily. “It is a complex concealing spell wound with a glamours and mixed with a disfigurement charm.”

“Disfigurement!” Harry was alarmed and slightly offended. Maybe the old Snape was still there after all.

“That’s what it says,” the voice was flat, as though Snape had only heard the words, and not the tone. Which, Harry reflected, might have been a good thing. The spell seemed to be completely distracting the professor at the moment, so he did not get angry at Harry.

Waiting patiently as the Potions Master read, Harry made a quick review of things. He was going to let his most hated teachers point a wand at him and say a spell that he had never heard of before in his life. That did not seemed like a very smart thing to do; at least to Harry. But then, Snape was his father now, and could probably do what he wanted.

Snape began to wave his wand around, which, Harry realized with a start, was practice. Although every teacher at Hogwarts stressed that no student should ever cast a (friendly) spell on another fellow student before practicing first, it was still odd to see a grown man practicing. The Potions Master was a perfectionist, there seemed nothing the man could not do, but seeing him like this made Harry think of a much younger man, perhaps a seventh year.

“This is too complicated,” Severus said after several minutes. “I dare not try it until I have practiced more. I could permanently damage you.”

Damage him? What was he, a book! But Harry had to be thankful that Snape…his father, he had to keep reminding himself, wasn’t going to risk casting an unfamiliar spell on him.

“Thanks, I guess,” Harry muttered.

The Potions Master glared at the boy for a moment, before gently setting the journal aside. “Just be lucky that I’m a cautious man,” Severus warned. But then, he seemed unsure of himself, and Harry realized that the man was in his element when angry or intimidating. Snape seemed lost when it came to being friendly.

“I didn’t mean it like that, sir,” Harry felt obligated to stand up for himself.

Wearily, Severus ran his hand over his face. “I know,” he admitted softly. “But Harry, there is something we need to discuss.”

Fear spiked through Harry as he wondered what the professor meant by that. “Sir?” he prompted.

“About your living arrangements,” Snape clarified. “I do not want you living here with the Dursleys anymore. Bloodwards or not, you are not safe here.”

Relief and joy replaced trepidation. Not living with the Dursleys? That was wonderful news! Harry had waited all his life to hear those words, and they were just as good as he always dreamed they would be. “So what then?” he asked. “Where will I go?”

Severus paused at this. Where indeed. Where could he take Harry that would be safe? There was no place that Severus could take the child where the boy would be safe. At least not that he had thought of yet. And there was the fact that the Potions Master was not good with children. The only child the wizard had been exposed to over the years was Draco Malfoy. But even then he had not cuddled the child, nor had he been left alone with the blond boy for very long in a situation that was not a formal setting. What hope did he have of raising Harry?

“To the Weasleys, I think,” Severus said after a moment. “They’re properly situated in life, and would be able to care for you.”

“But what about you?” the panic in the boy’s voice was really quite touching. “Aren’t you going to stay with me?”

Again, those damn green eyes! It hurt, it actually hurt Severus to hear the disappointment and fear in the boy’s voice. “I’m running from every Dark Wizard in the United Kingdom, Harry,” he said sternly. “Everyone knows I would never stay with the Weasleys, and since no one knows where you are, and if we keep your moving secret, no one would be able to find you. I could always distract the Death Eaters away from you, anyhow. But we would have to iron out all the details later.”

“Where will you go?” Harry asked. “You can’t outrun the Death Eaters forever.”

Why was the child so concerned? “I do not have to. I just have to outrun them until September when the school year begins again. Once it does, there will be no possible way for the Death Eaters to get me without anyone noticing. A month is not that long for running.”

“But, what if I don’t want to stay with the Weasleys?” Why did I just say that? Harry wondered.

By the look on his face, Snape was thinking the same thing. “I thought you would want to stay with the Weasleys.”

“I do,” Harry amended quickly. “I just…I just don’t like that you don’t have a place to go.” He began to blush. He wasn’t making any sense.

“We cannot stay here,” Snape said carefully, eyeing the boy. “It is for the best if we separate. We cannot afford to be caught together, Harry. You’re the Boy-Who-Lived and I’m the errant Potions Master of the Dark Lord. I have too many secrets to hide and you are too valuable to be lost. I would not risk it.

“Anyway, I have no place that I could take you,” Severus went on once he saw the disappointment on Harry’s face. The boy thought his father didn’t want him! “It is better if you stay at a place where you’re safe and properly cared for.”

“Kay,” Harry acquiesced.

Not liking the defeated look on the child’s face, but unable to think of anything else to say, Severus took a piece of parchment and a quill and jotted down the past two days events, in code of course, before looking over at Hedwig.

The little Snow seemed to understand and flew over to Severus. The Potions Master tied the note on her leg. “Take this to Headmaster Dumbledore. It is for his hands only.”

When Severus opened a window, Hedwig took off. She did not quite know what was going on, but she was glad that the man that looked like her master was there to protect her Harry.

&&&&&

The rest of the day was spent idly for Harry. Snape had made the Dursleys cook, clean, and stand in the corner all day, only giving them meager portions for meals. But it was actually more than the Gryffindor would have thought his professor would be willing to give, considering how mad he was at Harry’s relatives.

As for Harry, he mostly did his homework, read, or watched the telly. Snape had not forbade him the luxury of watching the telly, and Harry relished in the opportunity. For the first time in his life, he was in control of the remote and the channel. It was a wonderful feeling.

But while Harry had the first fun summer at the Dursley’s he had ever had, Severus spent his time watching over the obnoxious family, reading, or just sitting quietly thinking. There were many details in which he hoped he could go over with the Headmaster, and though he thought he’d always hate the old man now, he could not deny that Albus Dumbledore was one of the only few wizards that could protect Harry… Severus’s son. Perhaps the Headmaster would take Harry to the Weasleys?

After dinner, while Harry was watching the television and Severus was reading, a commercial came on that caught the Potions Master’s attention. Marking the page in the book he was looking over, the wizard looked up when something was being said about an end of July sale. Was it the end of July? Yes, yes he supposed it was. He had gone to the Death Eater gathering on the twenty-ninth.

It was the thirty-first! Wasn’t that Harry’s birthday?

Stealing a glace at the boy, Severus watched as the child was watching the screen intently as the program came back on. Green eyes dance and twinkled in amusement. This was probably one of the best birthdays the boy had ever had, Severus thought sadly. Well, perhaps he would get something for the boy later?

“I think it’s time we retire for this evening,” the professor said when the show was over.

Standing up, stretching, Harry smiled. “Alright. Night, sir.”

Severus only nodded as he stood up. He walked into the kitchen, where the Dursleys were finishing up the dishes. “Upstairs to bed. Now.”

They obeyed and soon Severus found himself alone on the main floor. He had planned on changing one of the couches into a bed to sleep on, but at the moment, he did not feel like sleeping. For some strange reason, he felt like going up the stairs and seeing Harry. Why was that?

After pacing around the house, Severus finally decided that he should go upstairs, just to check and make sure everything was alright.

Coming to the stairs, he steeled himself, and managed to get up the steps with out too much difficulty. He was beginning to become familiar with these steps, making him feel more at easy, but he still hated them. Perhaps he should introduce elevators into the wizarding world?

But once at the top, the wizard glided over to Harry’s door. He paused for a moment, before taking out his wand and locking the Dursleys’ rooms. See how they like it.

Pushing open the door quietly. Severus stepped in, and walked over to the bed. Harry was lying on his side, facing the wall. Again, the Potions Master could not help but see that sleeping baby that had laid on his mother’s chest all those years ago.

Automatically the long fingered hand went and brushed the boy’s soft, raven hair. It felt wonderful, so very much like his mother’s.

Thinking of Lily depressed Severus, so he decided to dwell on what she had left him behind. “Happy birthday, Harry,” he said quietly before he left the room.

In bed, the boy smiled, not being as asleep as his father had thought.

&&&&&&

Outside, in the dead of night, no one noticed a rat that scurried off with a bottle cap in his mouth.

1994

Severus woke up with a start, his wand in hand. Scanning the room, with a pounding heart, the wizard stood up, cautiously walking to the window where he heard a light tapping. He almost sagged in relief when he saw that it was only an owl at the window, gently rapping; Harry’s owl.

Opening the window after putting his wand away, Severus watched as the white owl came in and sat on the couch, waiting for the wizard to join her. Snorting at the cheeky bird, the wizard closed the window and lumbered back over to where he had slept.

Originally, Severus had wanted to change one of the couches into a bed so he could sleep comfortably, but he found he could not sleep much last night. After he had checked on Harry the night before, his mind had become restless with unanswered questions and newfound fears. All he could think about while sitting alone in the dark was Harry, and was be prey to his imagination and his newly discovered memories.

Even now all that the wizard could think about was Harry. Was it the right thing to do to send him away to live with the Weasleys, or was that a mistake? Severus knew Arthur and Molly would certainly protect the boy, and they were as fond of Harry as they were any of their own children, but would they be enough for Harry? What Harry had said to him yesterday when they were discussing the boy’s living situation still rang fresh in Severus’s ears. But what if I don’t want to stay with the Weasleys?

What had the boy meant by that? Where else would the boy want to go? He wanted to go with you, a small part of Severus’s mind had to hope. But no, it was far too early for Harry to become attached; wasn’t it? Lily had always taken to things quickly, or she would repel things quickly enough. She had always had a good sense of character, and she usually tried to cling to what was good. Maybe Harry was the same way?

Allowing himself a sigh, Severus sat down where the owl waited for him. He searched his robes- he had been using them as a blanket- and gave the owl a treat. It hooted merrily as it snatched up the treat before holding out her leg to allow the wizard to untie the message.

The message itself would not make sense to a Muggle, nor would it be clear to the average wizard, which is why Albus and Severus adopted this form of correspondence, but quickly translating the message, Severus was able to read it clearly. Albus wanted to meet him at the Headmaster’s old cottage near the Lake District. Folding the message and sticking it into his pocket, the Slytherin sighed. So, he would have to take Harry away today. There would be no time to get to know each other after all.

Why should he feel so concerned? The boy had been a brat the last three years, why should he even make an effort to get to know the boy? But he was fooling himself, he knew. Severus had loved Lily, and anything that she had loved or anything that was a part of her, the wizard had to love. He had shut Harry out as it had been far too painful to look at the boy with his love’s eyes in his enemy’s face. But it was different now...

It was all for the best. Harry could not stay with him. He just could not. Spinner’s End would be watched from here on out, Hogwarts would be watched carefully, and Prince Manner was unliveable at this time. Wherever he went, Severus was not going to take Harry with him. What a delight the Death Eaters would have if they found both the Potions Master and Harry Potter together in the same place!

Sighing once more, Severus decided that he could not sleep. He had preparations to make and plans to continue. Looking over at the window, the wizard realized that there were several owls sitting on the ledge.  

&&&&&

Harry woke up from a wonderful nights sleep to the smell of bacon and eggs. Sitting up groggily, he thought for a moment that he was at the Weasley’s house, as that was the only place he’d ever been when such a delicious aroma woke him from his dreams. But he was not.

Oh, but what a dream he had had too! It had not been particularly pleasant, but it had been interesting. He had dreamed about Snape’s prophecy, and the serpent. There had been a great black snake and a green snake. The two had been circling each other, when another serpent, a brown one, came. The brown began to attack the green snake when the black began attacking the brown. The brown one then devoured the black snake, as it seemed the black gave up. In returned, the green then devoured the brown, as Snape’s prophecy was being spoken by the Head of Slytherin in the background. It had been so odd, so obscure, that Harry wondered if he should not tell someone about it. Perhaps Dumbledore?

Jumping up, the Gryffindor went to look over the prophecy carefully. As he stared down at the words, Harry bit his lip in concentration.

As he read the words, Harry decided that nothing made sense. The Serpent’s child and Head of Snakes had to mean Voldemort, and it said that he would prevail! But then why would there be light were light had been and the darkness loose its menace? And what was this about a hidden face being destroyed?

Suddenly, everything clicked into the young wizard’s mind. Voldemort would return and would think he conquered, but then everyone would realize what had happened and then he would be destroyed! Then the light would prevail! That had to be it! If that were so, then Snape’s prediction was a sign of good news. Things would all turn out alright!

Changing quickly, Harry ran down the stairs, a happy skip in his step. When he opened the kitchen door, he found S- his father sitting in the chair he had occupied the previous morning. The Potions Master looked up, tea cup in hand, and did not smile, but looked distinctly… not angry, as he motioned for Harry come in and sit.

Sitting down to a full plate of bacon and eggs was an unexpected delight for the now fourteen year old, and he began shoveling in the food. Severus watched in exasperated disapproval, but did not comment on the boy’s table manners. But the professor assumed that Molly would take care of all that once Harry got to the…what did they call it… the Burrow, that was.

When Harry looked up to see the slight disgust on his father’s face, he realized that he was not doing something right. When he looked down at his knife, that had previously been unused, was when he realized that he had let his table manners slip. Blushing slightly, the younger wizard picked up his knife and began eating properly. He did not want his father to keep grudges alive just because of his etiquette!

“So,” Harry began awkwardly. “What are we going to do today?” he grinned when he saw that Dudley was, yet again, in the corner.

“We are leaving today,” Snape said blandly. “After breakfast, you will pack up your things.”

“What!” the boy dropped his fork and knife. “Leaving? Already?”

“You would stay here longer?” the professor raised an annoyed eyebrow.

Again, blushing, Harry looked down, feeling quite stupid. “No,” he said quietly. “But I did not think that we’d be going so soon.”

“Well, we are,” the Potions Master went back to his tea. “The Headmaster contacted me earlier this morning. We’re going to meet him.”

Pushing his plate aside, the boy did not feel like eating much, even though he really did want to see Ron and all the Weasleys again. “And then I’ll be at the Weasleys?”

“Yes,” Snape turned his attention to a Muggle newspaper.

The master wizard did not say another word as he sipped his tea and read the paper. Seeing the feared Potions Master in such a state almost made Harry giggle. Now all that Snape needed was a pipe and maybe a fancy night robe that tied in the front. The image invoked humor for the strangest reason, causing Harry to smile, in spite of himself.

But when Harry was finally done picking at his meal, he went upstairs and did as he was bade. Packing was not nearly as hard as it would have been if Harry had been able to live like a normal child. All of his school belongings were still in his trunk, and he did not have much in the way of normal belongings. But what Harry did have was his letter from his mother, the box that his mother had given him, and some of Dudley’s baggy clothes.

He looked over to see Hedwig’s neat, tidy cage sitting in the corner, sparkling. A sinister smile tugged at his lips as he thought about how much Uncle Vernon had grumbled and complained about that particular chore. But of course Snape had not let him get away with such grumbling for long. The Potions Master had never been very tolerant about whining, not even from Malfoy!

When he grabbed the cage, Harry remembered the prophecy he had written down and ran to get it. It was still there on the bed were he had left it earlier. Carefully, he folded it up, and stuffed it in his pocket. He would need to talk to Professor Snape about it later.

Once down the stairs, the young wizard saw that his father was already at the door, wearing decidedly Muggle looking clothes. Snape’s pants were no longer black, but a dark, charcoal grey with a silky looking black shirt. But what surprised Harry the most was the fact that the man’s hair was tide back. He had to stop and stare for a moment.

“Huh?” Harry frowned. “Oh, no, sir,” he ran the rest of the way down before he was by his father. “Here’s everything else,” he set it down sheepishly.

Looking over the things, Severus raised his wand and shrunk everything down into miniature size. Then he picked everything up and stowed them into his pockets. Harry had to watch in amazement, and was surprised that he did not feel much when he saw Snape take his things. He knew that he would get them back.

“Let’s go,” Severus motioned for the boy to walk out.

“But what about the Dursleys?” the young wizard could not help but feel worried about them.

“Do not concern yourself over those Muggles,” the Potions Master had a rather nasty smirk on his face, but he did not comment further.

They walked on down the street together in silence. Harry could not help but be self-conscious walking with the professor. Here Snape looked like he stepped out of some exquisite university and Harry looked like some sort of street urchin. Maybe he should have washed up a little better this morning? Merlin, he probably looked like gutter trash!

But their trek was interrupted when two boys stepped into their path, smiling nastily at the Gryffindor. “Hey, Potty, where you off to, eh?”

“Shut it, Piers,” Harry growled, wishing that he could just get way. He had not wanted to be seen, especially not by Dudley’s gang.

“Aw, is Potty scard?” Dennis laughed, as though he had said something terribly cleaver.

“Shove off,” Harry hissed.

“And who, might you…delinquents be?” Severus drawled, looking down at the boys in front of him with a sneer.

“Eh! We ain’t del-en-quints!” Piers exclaimed. “And where’s Big D at? Haven’t seen him in a day!”

“Oh, wow, a whole day,” Harry could not help but roll his eyes.

Realizing the insult, amazingly, both Piers and Dennis started for Harry. But when Harry braced himself for the impact, he realized that it never came. Opening his eyes, he saw that Snape, his father, had stepped in the way.

Peeking around the wall of black, the young wizard saw, to his delighted confusion, that the two neighborhood bullies were sitting on the ground, rubbing their butts. Daring a look up, Harry saw a look of pure outrage and disgust on the Potions Master’s face. They’re in for a time now! he could not help but wince.

Grabbing both boys by the front of their shirts, Severus lifted them off the ground and onto their feet again. He glared down at them, his tall stature allowing him to loom over the two menaces easily. The two bullies visibly began to cower at the sight of the livid man before them. No one had ever knocked them over before, and it coming from a man was twice as alarming. All the adults loved them, how could this one not?

“You two,” Snape’s voice was dangerously quiet, “had better get out of here and go home. I never want to hear about you two terrorizing children again, do you hear me?” he shook both of them. “Do anything like this ever again, and I hear word of it, you’ll both be sorry. Understand?”

Now actually crying, the two boy nodded, stuttering a, “yes, sir,” before Snape released them, pushing them away. As soon as they were free, both boys ran off as fast as their legs could carry them.

“Cowards,” Severus snorted. “Their type always are.”

Realizing that Snape was actually thinking of his f-James Potter, Harry had to blush, hanging his head low. He understood what his real father must have gone through at the hands of James Potter and the Marauders. But seeing the professor do that to Piers and Dennis also made Harry wonder if that’s not what the man would have done years ago if he had had the chance. Probably would have.

“Thanks,” Harry mumbled embarrassedly.

Not saying anything, Snape just nodded before walking on. It was surprising to Harry that the man did not seem to think anything of it. He had just saved his son from a possible bloody beating, and he did not seem too interested in thanks. The young wizard’s mind went back to his mother’s letter and how she talked about no one ever thanking Severus for his services in the past. Perhaps the professor just did not like them?

But he could not dwell on that for long, before the two wizards stopped outside the old park. Snape directed them to a secluded point in the park before he turned to Harry. “Take my arm,” he ordered.

Tentatively, the younger wizard did as he was told, only to feel a sudden chill and a terrible pain run through his body.

When it all had begun, it seemed to suddenly stop. Even though Harry supposed that they were stopped, his head still spun and he felt extremely ill. Leaning over, he actually did vomit before staggering backwards again. What in Merlin’s good name just happened?

The boy felt something take a hold of his arm and looked up to see Snape’s face, and the man was smiling! Or as close to a smile as Harry had ever seen the man. Snape’s version of a smile was just the slightest lift of the corner of his lips. But still, the Gryffindor could not help but think it rude that the professor found this the least bit amusing.

“What was that?” Harry croaked.

Conjuring a glass of water, Severus handed it to the boy. “Apparition,” he stated bluntly. “Usually makes you sick the first time.”

Taking the water, and swishing it around before spitting it out, Harry glared over at the professor queasily. “Did it make you sick the first time?” he asked moodily.

“Of course not,” Snape continued on with his smile. “But come now. We need to meet Albus.”

The two wizards walked through an open meadow, through tall grass, before they came to an old, rickety looking cottage. It looked positively ancient, but looked as though it had taken some damage during World War II. But as Harry gawked, Severus continued on, his eyes scanning the meadow for any kind of threat.

Arriving at the building, Severus took Harry to a small table that had four chairs sitting around it, as though it were expecting guests. Now, it was in a small little sitting room, but the main wall facing the south, was completely gone, giving it a sort of enclosed porch feel. But not completely trusting anything, the older wizard took out his wand and scanned everything to make sure that there were no traps.

Only once he had sat down himself, did Severus allow Harry to join him. It would not do to have the boy sit and it be a trap! But when the child flung himself down, the professor had to fight back a grin. One would have thought that they had walked twenty miles instead of twenty feet.

“Where are we?” Harry asked after a moment.

“You do not need to concern yourself with that,” Severus snapped, automatically going back into his business mode. But when he saw the look of disappointment on the boy’s face, he could not help but feel sorry for his harsh words. All he could see anymore when he looked at Harry was Lily’s face conveying any emotion Harry’s was!

“But your friends did send you several owls this morning,” the older wizard offered awkwardly. Merlin he hated these situations.

“Really?” the boy perked up. “Where are they?”

“I took the liberty of placing them in your trunk,” Severus explained, relieved that Harry had taken to the change of subject. “You can open them once you are settled later tonight.”

Although he looked a bit disappointed again, Harry still smiled. He had wondered if his friends had forgotten about him, but it appeared that they were just a little late. That was okay. He had still had a pretty good birthday, even without their gifts. He could not help but smile once he thought of Snape’s well wishes last evening. It had meant so much coming from his father.

Kicking his feet idly, Harry glanced at his father to see the man looking out over the meadow, as alert as a mother deer. “So, what do you think about divination?” he asked innocently. “I think I might study up on it more.”

Snape’s face screwed up in disgust once more. “Why waste your time on such a subject?” he frowned at the boy. “It’s worthless and never really comes true. It’s just sprouted out by those that have had too much to drink.”

Surprised at the speech, Harry had to look down at the table so the man would not see his shocked expression. “I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I thought it would be kinda interesting.”

The man turned away, looking out over the plain once more. “If you say so,” he drawled, looking decidedly uninterested.

At that moment, there was a loud crack, and the two wizards beheld Albus Dumbledore. The old man was standing in the middle of the meadow in a scandalous bright yellow robe with horrid orange stripes running horizontal in some places and vertical in others. It was an eye sore for sure, and there was no way anyone could miss him. Harry found himself wondering what color the Headmaster’s socks were.

“Harry, my boy!” Dumbledore exclaimed excitedly. “I had not expected to see you here,” the old wizard looked over at Severus expectantly.

“I was not going to leave the boy, Headmaster,” it was obvious how strenuous this meeting was for the professor, his eyes burning with righteous fire, and his tone clipped and barely civil.

Albus would have been a fool if he had not picked up on the younger wizard’s contempt, but he merely frowned at this before turning his attention back to Harry. “Having a nice summer, are we?” he smiled.

“Uh, yes, sir,” Harry smiled shyly, not sure how he felt about the old man anymore. He had planned on being angry and resentful, like his father, but now that he saw the old wizard face to face, he wasn’t so sure.

Dumbledore smile kindly at him, before turning to Severus. “Now, Severus, you had something to tell me?”

Again, Harry feared that the Potions Master might kill the Headmaster, but to his credit, Snape sat still and composed, if not ridged and cold. Nodding only once, the Slytherin explained the events on the evening of the Death Eater meeting. Harry listened intently, devouring the information as it was fed to him. His eyes were wide as he listened to the account. For Merlin’s sake, his father was a hero!

“And that’s when I found a portkey in my pocket, and I was transported to Potter’s house,” Snape concluded.

“Hmm,” the Headmaster stroked his beard. “It is very good you had that portkey, by the sounds of it. But what now Severus, where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” the Potions Master looked away. He did not want to look into those deceivingly trustworthy eyes. “I will drift, I suppose. Perhaps go north into Scotland.”

The Headmaster nodded approvingly. “That would be best. I will have Hogwarts grounds secured by the time you come back for term.”

When Severus nodded, the old wizard turned his attention to Harry. “And I am thrilled at seeing you again, my dear boy! But I am wondering at why you are here? Just wanted to get out, did we?”

“Potter’s not going back to the Dursleys,” Snape cut in, causing the Headmaster to look over at his subordinate.

“What?” Albus looked alarmed. “Why? What’s happened?”

Looking more deadly than Voldemort himself, Severus’s lip curled in contempt. “Why? Because the boy’s been abused, you old fool!”

The Headmaster paled, before he stood up. “A word alone, if you please, Severus.”

Harry watched as the two powerful wizard went out a little ways into the meadow where they began to talk animatedly. The young Gryffindor’s heart began to pound painfully in his chest. What were they saying? What was going to happen? Would Snape tell Dumbledore that Harry was his son and not James’s?

As he listened intently, Harry thought he heard the Slytherin a few times say things such as, “He’s not going back there!” or “How long have you known?” but he could not be sure. By the looks of it, the two were not agreeing, and the boy could not help but feel that this was all his fault. He just wished he was at the Burrow, safe and sound in Ron’s room. He did not like sitting here in this old house that could fall any minute and out in the wide open space, even if it was beautiful.

After what seemed like hours, Dumbledore came walking back with a tired, forced smile. “Come, come, Harry my boy,” he guided the boy out of the house. “I’ve got all your things and we’re going now.”

“Where will, uh, Professor Snape go when I get to the Weasleys?” he asked, looking over at the furious man behind them, still standing where Dumbledore had left him.

“I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to go to the Weasleys,” the Headmaster really did look sorry. “I’m returning you to Privet Drive.”

“What!”

But by that time, Dumbledore had apparated Harry away.

Watching as they went, Severus balled his hands up into fists. He shook so badly with anger that he thought he might explode. The horrified face of Harry, his son, as they left, was forever imbedded into his mind. A tear leaked out of the Potions Master’s cold eyes and he sat down in the grass gracelessly. Running his hands through his hair, jaw clenched, he vowed to get Harry back.

1994

“And, you are sure that this…thing will take us to where Potter resides?” Lucius Malfoy looked over the bottle cap disgustedly.

 “I am sure,” Wormtail nodded enthusiastically.

“How do you know?” Malfoy glared down his nose at the rat, sneering slightly.

“I had thought to discovered where Lily Potter’s sister lived, and then found the bottle cap in the next yard,” Wormtail explained. “When I shifted it, it took me away to Spinner’s End. When I tried it again, I was back where Potter supposedly lived.” His smile was oily. “When I realized that it took me from Spinner’s End to Privet Drive, I knew that Snape had to have gone there before he left.”

The smile Lucius gave sent chills down the spine. “Snape must have gotten help from Potter,” he said thoughtfully. “Makes sense. But I think a visit is in order.”

&&&&&&

Severus paced around the meadow, frustrated and furious. What had just happened? He had let the Headmaster take Harry away from him. Again! Why hadn’t he done anything?

Fuming and hissing, the Head of Slytherin looked back towards the cottage. He went over to a chair and flopped down, much like Harry had done a while earlier. He could not bring himself to admit that he was wrong in the way he handled Albus. The old fool deserved Severus’s brutal words. They were all true, at any rate.

Sitting in the shade, the professor thought back to the conversation:“Severus, you should not say things like-”

“Like what? Abused? Well the boy was,” Severus growled. “His relatives treated him like… like the Malfoys treat a house elf! It was deplorable.”

“I know, Severus, but you can’t-”

“You knew!” the Potions Master could not help but be appalled. “How long have you known about this?”

Sighing, the Headmaster rubbed the bridge of his nose. “My boy, sometimes it’s for the overall good that we must suffer awful things. Harry’s comfort at the Dursleys might be scarified, but his overall health and wellness are secured.”

Snape could do nothing but stand there in outrage. “So you are saying that you would let those Muggles kill Harry for his health instead of wizards?” venom dripped from his cold words. “This is outrageous, Albus, even for you! You leave Potter there, and he’ll die!”

“You assume too much,” Dumbledore said firmly. “I know that his relatives resent him, but they would not-”

“Oh, but they have,” Severus’s voice was grave. “Albus, they’ve beaten the boy. Severely if I’m any judge. He flinches when anyone touches him, he’s malnourished, and he lived in a cupboard until he attended Hogwarts. A cupboard, Albus!”

For a long moment, neither one spoke. Had Severus not been so angry, he would have felt a bit of guilt over causing the elderly wizard to look so forlorn. But as it was, the Headmaster was not so feeble, and the Potions Master was not so sorry. Black eyes met blue, and it was a power of wills for a moment, as one wizard tried to read the other. “I knew about that,” Dumbledore admitted.

“You knew!” Severus exploded. “How long have you known?”

“From the beginning, I’m afraid,” Albus admitted. “But, Severus, it was for his own good.”

“I’m supposed to believe that?” Snape spat.

It was then that the Headmaster looked the younger wizard over carefully, his blue eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Why are you so concerned about this, Severus? You’ve never liked Harry before.”

"Just because I don’t like the brat doesn’t mean I’m going to let someone kill him!” Severus growled defensively. “He’s after all, just a boy. Didn’t you always tell me that?”

And the conversation never made much progress after that. The two had gone around and around until finally the Headmaster got angry. When Albus Dumbledore got angry, he got stubborn, becoming impossible to work with.

“Can’t the Weasleys take him?” Severus asked, hoping he did not sound pleading.

“No,” the Headmaster shook his white head. “I’m afraid I cannot do that. Molly and Arthur are being watched this summer.”

“Or someone else?” the Potions Master racked his brain, trying to come up with something better. “Anyone else would be better than those Muggles.”

“Even you?” Albus almost smiled.

“Yes,” Severus said defensively. “Even I am.”

“I am sorry, my boy,” Dumbledore shook his head. “But the bloodwards demand that I place Harry back into his aunt’s care. He will be safer there.”

Growling in distain, the professor looked across the meadow again. He had been dangerously close to telling his mentor that he was Harry’s father. It had been on the tip of his tongue. But when the time came, he could not do it. The Headmaster’s betrayal after Severus had informed the old man about his wedding was still fresh in his mind. What if the Headmaster preformed a similar trick again? Both he and Harry might forget, and then who would help them?

Standing up in resolve, Severus decided that there was nothing else to do at the moment. He had to make arrangements. He would make sure his son was out of those Muggles care. He would not leave the child to be abused. But as he began to walk, he felt the strangest sensation in his left arm. It was then that he realized he did not have the bottle cap.

&&&&&

Outside Privet Drive, Harry felt his stomach lurch. What had just happened? He did not want to be back at Privet Drive! Snape had said that they were leaving! The man had said that Harry didn’t have to live here anymore! So how had he just let Harry just get carted away?

"Now, Harry,” when Dumbledore spoke, the boy had a hard time meeting the man’s eyes. “I know that this arrangement is not to your satisfaction, but you must understand that it is for your own good, yes? The bloodward is a powerful form of protection, and we must take advantage of this. Yes?”

“Yes, sir,” the young wizard hung his head low. And here he had the hope that things were going to get better! When did his life ever get any better?

When Dumbledore smiled, and rapped on the door, Harry had to bite his bottom lip to keep from getting sick. The door opened to a very smartly dressed Petunia standing in the doorway. “Harry!” she exclaimed in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello, my dear,” Albus smiled cheerily at the Muggle woman. “It seems that Professor Snape was overstepping his bounds when he took Harry away this morning. I’ve brought him back.”

Petunia looked both alarmed and slightly sick. “Well, I have a job interview today, and Vernon, Dudley, and I were going to leave tonight to go to a tour and meeting at Smeltings,” she looked anxiously at the Headmaster. “We’ll be gone all night!”

Was his aunt trying to give an excuse as to why Harry could not stay here? Did she really not want him, or was she trying to help him out? Would he ever really know? “Ah, well, one night will not do much harm,” the old wizard smiled. “I’ll put up extra wards before you leave.”

“Can’t Se- I mean, Professor Snape keep Harry?” Petunia’s blue eyes flashed with panic. “I wouldn’t want-”

"Oh, do not trouble yourself!” Dumbledore stepped in past the woman, Harry in tow. “I’ll go help Harry unpack, if you want?”

Unable to think of anything else, Petunia nodded numbly, before she motioned up the stairs. As he was going, Harry thought he heard the distinct sound of crying. Was that… Dudley?

The Headmaster took all of Harry’s things out of his pocket and unshrank them. Then he smiled over at the boy again. “I am sorry about this.” The young wizard was tempted to believe it. “But there really is no other way. I cannot let you go gallivanting around the wizarding world alone. You need to stay here where you’re out of sight and hidden. You know that, right?”

At Harry’s nod, Dumbledore messed up the boy’s hair affectionately. “Come, come now, my boy. Let us see your relatives off!"

When they got down the stairs, and Harry saw his cousin and uncle, he decided that Snape must have done something terrible to them. They had horrible bruises under their eyes as though they had not slept in weeks, and looked a lot paler than the younger wizard had seen them in a long time. Their eyes were glassy and unfocused, looking a bit yellow, again as though they had sleep deprivation. From their fearful expressions upon seeing the Headmaster, Harry supposed that Snape really had done something terrible to them without his knowing. After all, who would be afraid of Dumbledore while he was wear that awful outfit?

“Well, I’m off,” the Headmaster smiled at the family. “I’ll be back later, Harry, to secure the ward.”

There was a chorus of “yes, sir” coming from all the men in the house, causing Harry to stare over at his cousin and uncle again. Had the Potions Master drugged them? But Dumbledore did not seem to notice, or if he did, he ignored it, and left the house with a happy smile.

Once the door was closed, Petunia looked over the house. “They’re all right. I hope,” she glance at her husband and son. “Severus said that they would be acting… a bit more polite from now on,” she looked her family over again. “But Harry, we really will be gone until later tomorrow morning. I just wish that they didn’t make this parents’ visitation an overnight thing,” she growled.

Harry shrugged. “It’s okay. I’ll just do homework, or something.”

Again, Petunia looked her nephew over carefully. “Are you sure that you’re all right? Why didn’t Severus stop him from bringing you back?”

“I have no idea,” Harry said sadly. “I don’t think he told the Headmaster about us being related.”

Frowning, the woman looked over at her clock. “I really must be off, Harry. There’s leftovers in the fridge, if you want them. I’ll be back tomorrow by noon at the latest.”

As the Dursleys filed out of the house, Harry watched as Dudley and Vernon followed Petunia like ducklings. He really could not help but wonder what Snape had done to those two. Perhaps he would find out when he went back to school? But no, Snape would probably be mean and nasty to him again. It really was too much to ask for the Potions Master to be nicer.

 Sighing, Harry walked back up the stairs and flung himself on the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, and for a moment, wished he could burn a hole through it. But what would that solve? Nothing really. It would just make him mad in the end.

Rolling over, Harry glanced at his trunk. His trunk! He had letters from the Weasleys and Hermione. Those would cheer him up!

Rushing over, the young wizard threw open the lip and grabbed the presents and letters. At least his friends always made him feel better!

&&&&&&

That night, the Death Eaters all congregated together, all of them in high spirits. “Brothers!” Lucius called above the crowd, next to him, stood Wormtail, basking in the blond Death Eater’s spotlight, as though Malfoy were a prince. “Tonight we fulfill our Master’s wishes! Tonight, we destroy Harry Potter!”

There came a loud cheer from the group, until one person spoke up. “But what about wards, eh? How will we get past those?”

Smiling viciously, Lucius looked around the assembly, drawing out the suspense. “We have ways around that,” the Death Eater laughed. “It appears that it does not keep out animagus, and we just so happen to have an animagi.” The rat smiled victoriously. “Wormtail will go through the wards and take them down from the inside. Once he’s done, we will attack, and kill everyone in our path!”

The cheers rose up into a roar from the Death Eaters before they all became silent again, as plans were being made and set into motion. No one noticed that there was one member in the back that did not cheer, nor did he help with the planning. When things began to quiet, he slipped out the back, his mind reeling with fear.

&&&&&&

That night, Harry had decided that he would go to bed early. He had had a disappointing, and boring day. His letters from Ron and Hermione had made him happy, but it had not been the same as actually seeing them again. He had thought everything was going to be great leaving the Dursleys, but here he was, right back where he started!

So, laying in bed, he found himself exhausted. Almost as soon as he closed his eyes, he was asleep. He was once again lost in dreams with the Potions Master and snakes with the Headmaster stomping on the head of the snakes. He did not hear the loud crack of aparition outside.

&&&&&&

The Death Eaters all gathered and transported themselves to Number Four Privet Drive that night at midnight. Their glee was barely contained as they watched Wormtail transform into a rat and run through the wards that had been placed. They watched anxiously as he began to take down one ward at a time.

“Hurry!” Lucius hissed. "Hurry so that another may come in and help you!”

&&&&&&

A figure in black strode into the house silently, making sure he would not rouse the inhabitance within. He searched the entire house, but found nothing. In defiant anger, he rushed up the stairs as quickly as he could. Thinking only of his objective, the man looked through all the rooms. There was no one, no one except the boy in the smallest room.

Opening the door soundlessly, the black figure took out his wand, ready to attack should anything happen. He leaned over the bed, and covered the boy’s mouth.

Harry woke with a start, eye wide, heart pounding in fear. All he saw without his glasses, was a tall, black shape looming over him. He began to thrash and tried to pry the hand off of his mouth. It was a Death Eater, in his house!

“Be silent, you silly boy,” came the familiar drone of Severus Snape.

Sagging in relief, Harry thought he might cry. When Snape released his mouth, the young wizard found his glasses were thrust into his hands as the professor began feverishly shrinking everything and picking them up. “Sir, what-”

“Be silent!” Severus hissed. Harry noted the anxious undertone and was afraid. “Death Eaters are outside.”

Leaping up from out of bed, the Gryffindor looked around anxiously. “What do we do!” he whispered desperately.

Glaring at the boy’s panic, Severus grabbed him by the arm and pushed in toward the door. “We’re leaving. Get out of here, and don’t make another sound,” he commanded.

Fear trickling through his veins, Harry pushed back his fear, and did as he was told. Snape, his father, had come back for him. He had come back! He had not left his son to the fate of the Dursleys or Death Eaters. Perhaps the professor really did care?

Coming to the stairs, Harry noticed the professor paused. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but when the man nodded down the stairs, the young wizard thought it was probably best to do as he was told. After the first couple steps, he felt, rather than heard, the professor following him.

In the hallway, Harry could see the moving shapes of the Death Eaters outside as they worked to break down all of the wards. Snape never paused, however, and grabbed the boy by the arm and lead him into the kitchen. The older wizard, with his wand in hand, opened the back door and sent Harry out, but not before scanning the area.

“Come on,” he urged.

They ran until till they met the fence, but as Harry slowed, Snape did not. He merely waved his wand and vanished the fence. Running after the long legged professor, Harry looked back as the fence reappeared. By the time they were several houses down, both wizards heard an ungodly screech that came from the Dursley house.

“Make for the park,” Severus instructed the boy, pausing to let Harry past him, wanting to guard the child’s back. “Do not stop, keep going!”

Together, the two wizards sprinted to the park, to the place where they had both apparated that morning. Only when they stopped to actually transport did they see the flames that lapped up into the sky, where the Dursley house had been only moment before.

 1979

Looking around the new apartment, Lily twirled around. “Oh, Sev! Isn’t this magnificent?” she laughed merrily.

Leaning in the doorway, the young Death Eater could not help but smile. “Yes, it is,” he never took his eyes off of her.

Realizing this, the Gryffindor girl blushed. “I meant the apartment,” she giggled shyly.

Grinning broader, the Slytherin walked into the room, grabbed his wife by her hips, and pressed her to him gingerly. “Apartments?” he frowned slightly. “I confess I haven’t really noticed it. There was something more magnificent and beautiful distracting my attention.”

Smiling playfully, Lily began twirling her husbands long locks of black hair with her fingers. “Oh? Really?” she looked uninterested. “And what would have completely captured your attention, almight spy?”

Not minding the slight in the least, Severus leaned down, only a breath away from his love’s face. “You,” he whispered silkily. He was pleased to feel the shudder that ran through his wife’s body. “I love you Lily.” He pressed his lips gently to hers.

Tears of joy running from her eyes, Lily wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck. When they parted, she looked up at him with genuinely happy eyes. “I love you too, Severus.”

With a loud crack, the two wizard appeared in a small, Muggle town. It was pitch black, and there were many trees around. Harry felt his heart hammering in his chest, his eyes were wide in fear and he could not help but wonder where he was. When he felt a hand on his upper arm, he spun around to see the pale face lit up under the moon, of his father.

Feeling dizzy and nauseous, Harry found himself leaning against the older wizard for support. It was the first time the Gryffindor had actually had any physical contact with the Head of Slytherin that was not painful, and as he leaned against the broad chest, the younger wizard decided that the contact was not so bad. In fact, Harry found that it was actually comforting to feel such human contact.

“This way,” came the deep voice of the Potions Master. Harry wondered how he had missed how soothing that voice actually was.

Guided by Snape, Harry let the older man take him up to this small cottage, one that he had never recalled seeing before in his life. Instead of his wand, however, the professor took out a rather large, iron key to open the door. But with a flick of the ebony wand, the wizard lit the way through the house.

“In here,” the baritone voice spoke gently. “Lay down, Harry. You can sleep now.”

Still too stunned to do much, the boy found himself laying on the bed as he was commanded. He closed his eyes, trying to fight off the illness he felt when he heard the jangling of potions vials. Peeling his eyes open again, he saw Snape’s face lit up by wand light, looking severe. “Drink,” he commanded.

Obediently, Harry did as he was told, and swallowed the potion. It was vile, as usual, but before he could gag, the Potions Master gave him a glass of water to drink. And before the boy could ask any questions, he was sound asleep, his night’s adventure forgotten for a time.

Taking off the famed glasses, Severus set them on the nightstand gently before tucking the child in. Looking over the Gryffindor, his son, the wizard could not find anything to be but upset. He had almost lost his son this evening, the son that he had just discovered. The thought was terrifying, and Severus did not scare easily.

Brushing back a fallen lock of hair and tucking it behind Harry’s ear, the new father sighed softly before he quit the room. Taking up his wand again, he went out the door to strengthen the wards he had placed over it that afternoon.

&&&&&&

When Albus Dumbledore came to Number Four Privet Drive, his first reaction was utter and complete shock. There were many vehicles present, three large fire engines, ambulances, and many police vehicles. Dressed in his Muggle attire, the old man raced as fast as he could over to the scene.

Frantically, the firefighters were working to put out the flames while the police went to keeping the panicked crowd under control. Near by, the paramedics waited anxiously, in case they would be needed. Neighbors all stood in the streets in their night garments, looking on in pitied shock as the Dursley home burned to the ground. Several women were weeping.

Pushing his way through the crowd, Dumbledore was finally stopped by a policeman. “Sir, no one’s allowed beyond this point,” the young man insisted.

“But- but my student! He’s in there!” Albus cried in dismay.

“Reports say that the family was not at home, they went away to the south for-”

“The Dursleys are gone, yes, but their nephew is in there!” the Headmaster cried. “I know, I brought him back today! I was coming to check on him and…”

The policeman looked down sympathetically at the old man before him. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t think anyone in the house survived. There was no attempts to be contacted, anyway.”

Standing, watching the house burn, Albus Dumbledore, at that moment, finally and completely admitted to being wrong. He had been so very wrong, and now Harry Potter was dead, all because of him.

You leave Potter there and he’ll die! Severus’s words rang in the old wizard’s ears, and he closed his eyes against the image before him. If only he had listened to the Potions Master!

Tears streamed down the old wizard’s face. He would never be able to forgive himself for this.

&&&&&&

The next morning, Harry rolled over with a groan, and sat up groggily. He rubbed his eyes and blinked several times in confusion before saw that he was not in his own room. Before he could panic, however, he remembered the night’s events, and fell back on to the bed with a sob. He recalled everything now.

He had been sleeping, the Death Eaters had come, but Snape had come for him too, they had left, and the Dursleys house had been caught on fire. What would happen to his aunt and uncle? What would happen to Dudley? Where would they go?

Looking over at the nightstand, the young wizard snatched up his glasses and shoved them on his nose. Looking around, he realized that he could not have placed the room he was in at all. He was in a simple bed, in a simple, yet charming room. There was a wooden floor with a dark green rug, a nightstand, a small desk in the corner, and a door for a closet. The walls were white and there was a fairly large window to the left of him.

Getting up out of bed, Harry walked to the window and peered outside. All he could see were trees when he looked out. Frowning, he could not hear anything in the way of traffic or construction, so he figured that wherever he was, he was in the country somewhere. Somewhere where everything was green and lush.

Harry decided then that he had to go find Snape, he had to go find out just what exactly happened and how the man had known to come save him.

Opening the door cautiously, the young wizard walked down the narrow hall and into the parlor. There were a few couches and a fair sized fireplace. Connected to the parlor was the kitchen, where the boy saw the professor cooking. It was an odd sight, but then again, Harry decided that everything the past several days had been quite odd.

Walking tiredly into the kitchen, Harry sat down at the old wooden table, and inspected everything around him. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked quietly.

“No,” Snape’s normal blunt answer sliced through the morning. But before the younger wizard could offer again, the Potions Master set the table and filled Harry’s plate.

As the professor sat down himself, the Gryffindor looked down at the meal before him. It was a delicious looking variety of eggs and sausage with toast and milk. Smiling up at his father, Harry picked up his fork and knife. “Thanks,” he said excitedly before digging into his food.

Nodding in response, Severus turned to his tea instead, looking through a Muggle newspaper again. Harry watched as the professor never made a move to eat any of the breakfast, but contented himself with tea. Harry had to wonder about that, especially since the meal was delicious. It was probably some the best eggs and sausage he had ever had. Strange that the Potions Master had made it.

“Aren’t you going to eat, sir?” Harry asked.

“I’m fine for now, thank you,” it was still so strange to hear that dreaded voice so calm and civil.

The meal went by in silence, but it was not a strained silence. It was actually quite comfortable as Harry ate and Severus read his paper and drank his tea. The boy had to keep himself from smiling as he thought of what Ron and Hermione would think if they saw him now.

“Um, sir?” Harry asked after he was finished. “Where are we?”

“Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch,” Severus responded without missing a beat.

“Pardon?” the boy sat mouth agape looking at his professor.

Sighing in irritation, Severus put down his paper and stared at his son. “I said that we are in Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch.”

“Where the heck is Llanfairpwlyw-erwhatsit?” he looked up helplessly at his father.

Looking quite perturbed, the Potions Master shook his head. “Llanfair is in Wales, Harry. Didn’t your primary teachers teach you anything?”

Glaring back, Harry felt a blush rising on his cheeks. He did not want to look stupid in front of his father, but how in the world was he to know where Llanfair was, especially if the whole name was spewed out? “I guess I didn’t remember the full name,” he could not help but say defensively. “But I thought you told Dumbledore that you were going to Scotland, why are we in Wales?”

“Because I did not want the old fool, or anyone else for that matter, to find us,” the master wizard looked back down at the paper before meeting his son’s eyes again. “I don’t want anyone to find us, Harry, so I took you into Wales, where the people keep to themselves and don’t ask any questions of you if you don’t ask any to them.”

“But why Llanfair?” Harry asked.

“It’s touristy and no one would think to hide here for that reason. But it is not so crowded as to make it inconvenient,” Snape leaned back in his chair. “Tours pass by and stop for a minute or two before leaving again. This is a quiet part of the country and if need be, we can make a dash through the woods to get away. We’re just outside the actual town.”

“So, we’re in the country then?” Harry tired to digest all the information. “How many people are here?”

“Not many, really,” Severus began to clear the table. “There are actually more sheep here than anything else. Later on, I’ll take you outside to look around.”

With that promise to look forward to, Harry stood up to help his father wash dishes.

&&&&&&

That morning, at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore called an Order meeting. A few members attended, some looking rather disgruntled at the early morning gathering. None more so than Sirius Black, who happened to be living at the house at the time.

They all sat in the kitchen, waiting for the Headmaster to arrive. Remus Lupin looked as tired as always, his health taking a beating, particularly nowadays. Molly and Arthur Weasley sat waiting anxiously, Arthur looking at his watch every few minutes, hoping that he would not be too late for work. Sirius Black sat with his head in his arms on the table, grumbling about not getting enough sleep. Tonks and Shaklebolt sat yawning, having just gotten off duty from the Ministry only an hour ago.

Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick came through the Floo at almost the same time to join the others. They were greeted warmly enough. Or as warmly as anyone could at six o’clock in the morning. But they were all of them still at a loss as to why they were even there at all.

At last, the Floo burned bright, and Albus Dumbledore came through, looking worse than Lupin after a full moon. The old man looked totally ancient as he came into the room. There were tears in the old man’s eyes as he sat down, and everyone around the table held their breaths, knowing that whatever the Headmaster had to tell them, it was very bad news indeed.

“There are two things of which I must inform you,” Dumbledore’s voice was tired and grieved. “The first being, that Severus has been discovered as a spy, and can no longer provide us with the enemies doings. He has gone off to Scotland, into hiding, before the new school term arrives.”

There were several gasps, and concerned glances exchanged. Only Sirius muttered about how the “snake could have worked better at not getting caught,” but was soon elbowed by Lupin. It settled down again, as everyone realized that that was not the terrible news that the Headmaster was particularly worried about at the moment.

“The second thing I have to inform you of it very terrible news indeed.” Tears fell from the blue eyes, their twinkle completely gone. “Last night, Death Eaters attacked and burned down the Dursleys home. Harry Potter was killed.”

The room sat in absolute, horrified silence.

1994

Draco Malfoy walked towards the door to the parlor. He had heard the Floo sound, and wondered if his father had made it home. The elder Malfoy had been away several days on “business,” the kind that he never went in to much detail, but always ended up the worse for it. And as he walked, the young wizard heard terrible noises coming from the room.

There was a loud crash, followed by thuds and bangs. Hurrying his strides, Draco rushed to the door, but fear suddenly overtook him. Stealthily, the young Slytherin cracked the door open just a smidge so he could look inside.

“I cannot believe it!” Lucius bellowed. “I cannot believe it! After all these years, after everything I’ve done for him, he betrays us, he betrays me!”

Sitting deceptively calm in her chair, Narcissa Malfoy kept her back straight as she sat in her chair watching her husband rave. “Calm down, my dear,” her voice was smooth. “What has happened? Who are you talking about?”

Spinning on his heels, Lucius’s steely eyes burned in rage, and his face contorted into a terrible mask. “SNAPE!” the man bellowed, grabbing a picture that had been sitting on a stand, and sending it crashing to the floor.

On the other side of the door, Draco’s eyes widened in surprise. What was going on? What was his father talking about? How had Professor Snape betrayed his father? Leaning closer, the young Slytherin tried to get a better look of what was going on.

For a moment, Narcissa’s face betrayed her surprise, before she managed to work it back down into a neutral expression once more. “Severus?” she asked, her voice shaded with doubt. “My dear, I cannot believe Severus would deliberately betray you. What-”

But before the rest of her sentence could be uttered, the enraged wizard strode over to his wife and slapped her soundly across the face. With a cry of surprise and pain, the witch instantly grabbed the side of her face, while trying to sit back up, having almost been knocked out of her seat. It was one of the few times Lucius had ever struck her. In the doorway, Draco gasped.

“Don’t believe me?” Lucius growled, beginning to pace. “What did he do?” his cold eyes burned into his wife’s face dispassionately. “He is the spy, Narcissa! The spy that we’ve been looking for, for years! I know he is!”

Instead of answering, the witch smartly straightened herself up and held her tongue. She let her eyes convey her question, if not a bit of her doubt. She knew her husband well enough to see that he did not want her words contradicting his. And although it was proving a bit difficult, Narcissa refused to cry in front of her husband. Lucius enjoyed tears far too much.

“I know he is!” the wizard glared at his wife. “At our meeting several days ago, he released a Mudblood girl that we had captured, and then apparated away to Spinner’s End. He sent everything away before we got there, and despite the injuries he received, he got away!”

Draco’s mouth hung agape as he listened. Snape, the Head of Slytherin, the man that only ever offered little sympathy, if any at all, let a Mudblood go? If the man was a spy for the "Light", like his father claimed, then wouldn’t it have been better for the professor to use his indifference to his advantage? If Snape really was a spy, then why would he have blown his cover over something so small? And why would the Head of Slytherin betray the Death Eaters? Had Dumbledore found out?

“We lost his trail for several days before Wormtail,” Lucius sneered at the name, “found where Harry Potter lived.”

In her seat, Narcissa’s eyes widened in wonder, her blue eyes sparkling like sapphires. In the doorway outside, Draco’s eyes glistened like cold steel at the mention of his rival. And even though Draco hated Potter, he could not squash down his fear that his father had done something bad to the other boy. A small, annoying, part of his mind was afraid that Harry Potter was no more.

“He also discovered that that was where Snape had slithered off to when he healed himself,” the wizard went on, becoming more and more furious as the story went on. Narcissa sat very still, as though she was in a lion’s pen.

“We were unaware if Snape still resided at Potter’s home, but we planned an attack last evening,” Lucius turned his back on his wife, and stared off into the flames in the fireplace. “And do you know what we found?”

The question sent waves of dread through both Narcissa and Draco, as Lucius’s voice was nothing but cold venom. Taking a deep breath, hoping that her voice would not shake, the witch stared at the floor, as if she were a schoolgirl in the Headmaster’s office. “No,” her voice was soft. “What did you find?”

“Nothing!” Lucius crossed the room and leaned in towards his wife threateningly. “The whole bloody house was empty!”

Although a small part of Draco was sorry that his father was in such a foul mood, as it would be taken out of him later, and that his mother had also been on the receiving end of the master wizard’s temper, there was, again, a small part of him that was undeniably glad that Potter had not been there. Unable to crush the feeling, Draco had to admit that he was relieved that Potter was still alive. After all, the younger Malfoy did not want to be a Death Eater, despite how he talked at school, and he needed Potter to stay alive and kill the Dark Lord again. Then everything would get better.

“Nothing?” Narcissa’s panicked reply brought Draco out of his thoughts.

“Nothing,” Lucius’s voice dropped into smoldering anger, just waiting to erupt again. “Snape had gotten everyone out of the house. Somehow he knew what was going to happen!” The student at the door could not help but sympathize as everyone knew that the Potions Master had an uncanny ability to sniff out trouble before it ever began.

“They were all gone without a trace,” Lucius took up pacing again. “But how could Snape have known? The Dark Mark would have stung when the large group of us gathered together, but not enough to concern him,” the elder Malfoy looked deep in thought. “What would have made him assume that we would attack Potter? That we knew where Potter was?”

Looking distinctly paler now than she had at the beginning of the conversation, Narcissa shook her head, long blond locks fell free from her loose bun. “I do not know,” she admitted softly. “But you should have known not to underestimate Severus. He has a great mind, you yourself always said that.”

“I did,” the wizard growled. “But I would never have believed him to be stupid enough to throw everything away like this. I made him what he is! I was the one that paid for his potions mastery. I’m the one that introduced him into the ring of Death Eaters and to the Dark Lord. I supported his release from Azkaban. Why then would he do this?”

“Severus is nothing if not Slytherin, my dear,” the witch said carefully, hoping that her husband would not hit her again. “He must have another motive. Perhaps he was bribed with something bigger?”

“What?” Lucius snorted. “From who? Dumbledore? That old fool doesn’t know anything! He didn’t even know Snape spied on him before the Dark Lord fell! I was told he was the one that prompted Snape’s release from Azkaban in the first place! The old fool didn’t want to lose his Potions Master.”

“Unless you are missing the bigger picture, Lucius,” Narcissa’s eyes sparkled with thought, her mind actively working to uncover the mystery before her. “Have you ever considered that it was Severus that was spying on us from the beginning?”

Both father and son wore identical masks of horror at the idea. But while Draco’s shock slipped slowly into hurt, Lucius’s instantly snapped into rage. “What?” the elder Malfoy hissed.

“There was a spy in the collective in the beginning,” Narcissa pointed out logically. “We thought we had discovered and taken care of him. But do you not remember who it was that had brought Archer to us, declaring him the traitor?”

Eyes widening into still more anger, the wizard flipped over a chair. “Snape!” he bellowed. “It was Snape! It was always Snape!”

“Yes, my dear,” the witch purred, hoping to calm her husband. Draco thought he might get sick. “Consider; the Headmaster released Severus from Azkaban, even from under the charges of being a Death Eater, because he needed a Potions Master? No, not even the Headmaster is so stupid. But the old man released Severus because he was his spy? I think so.”

“They had both played us all for fools!” Lucius irrupted. “Snape had even been willing to go to Azkaban to keep us off his scent! And once that was done, the bastard went right back to spying on us!”

Although his first reaction was disbelief, Draco had to admit that he could actually see Snape being some sort of triple agent. The man was perfect for it, actually. The professor had no family, no real friends or connections. He kept himself detached from just about everything, and he had a wide range of different talents that could be used greatly to his advantage on whichever side he chose to be on.

As a Potions Master, the young wizard knew that his teacher was quite valuable, as the Death Eaters had precious few wizards and witches that could brew what was needed for their attacks. And along with that, with his healing skills, Snape was, or had been, the only trustworthy healers that the Death Eaters could turn to. But with all this aside, as a spy, Snape had, or they had thought, gathered priceless information for them, giving details and reporting on the Headmaster’s activities.

When he had first learned that his professor was a spy from his father, Draco had thought that Snape acted quite recklessly, blatantly favoring his own house, the house that produced most of the dark wizards; not that he minded the favoritism, since the other teachers all seemed to hate Slytherin anymore. And with Snape’s obvious hatred for Harry Potter, Draco had worried that his godfather would be caught. But he had always accredited Snape’s ability to remain undetected due to Slytherin superiority and cunning. Now he realized that it was due to the Headmaster’s controlling the Potions Master.

“Snape must have had orders to pull out,” Lucius rubbed his chin pensively. “But why? What does Dumbledore know? Merlin, what could the old wizard know that would have him call out a spy such as Snape?”

“I do not know, my dear,” Narcissa continued to stare at the floor. “But perhaps Severus-”

And before the witch knew what was happening, Lucius struck her again, on the same side of her face. “I never want to hear that name again!” the wizard roared. “I never want you to say it again, do you understand me?”

Tears pooling in her crystal eyes, Narcissa nodded slowly, blood trickling from her split lip. Draco watched, and had to stop himself from jumping to his mother’s defense. His father was never reasonable when he was angry, and he rarely ever really listened to his son anyway. Biting his lip, and balling up his fists, the young wizard had to fight back his own tears of frustrated anger.

“But if Snape thinks that he’s going to get to relax and pat himself on the back, he’ll be sadly mistaken,” Lucius hissed. “He’s the Head of Slytherin, after all. As soon as the school year starts, he’ll be thrown into a brood of vipers. There are many students there whose family still remains loyal to the Dark Lord. Perhaps one of them will kill the traitorous bastard.” A cruel smile formed on the wizard’s face. “Perhaps even Draco will do it.”

Without much else, the elder Malfoy stormed from the room, supposedly to contact several of the other Death Eaters to warn their children. As soon as she knew it was safe, Narcissa sat up straight again, and brushed the blood from her lip. “You can come in now, Draco,” she called softly, never turning around.

Surprised at being found out, the young wizard took a moment to smooth over his features before he pushed open the door all the way and walked in. He now saw that the room was in worse shape than he had previously thought. His father must have been truly angry if he destroyed everything.

Walking around to kneel next to his mother, Draco looked into the witch’s face. He had never seen his mother in such a state. She looked haggard, and tired. Her hair was falling down and blood was on her light blue dress. The side of her face was swelling and turning black and blue and her lip was swelling as well, with blood beginning to crust over. Tears were streaming from her eyes, and for a minute, she refused to look at him.

“You heard it all?” she asked gently, as though Draco had been the one hurt.

The young Slytherin nodded. “I did.”

Nodding to herself, Narcissa sat up a little bit straighter, even while she sniffled. “You heard what your father said last?”

Images of both Lucius and Snape flashed in Draco’s mind, and he found he could not love or respect either at the moment. Snape, the man that the young wizard had always thought of as a mentor, a second father, betrayed his family, and had turned out to have been a liar and a sneak. And the boy’s father was nothing but a murderous bully that would kill anyone and anything just to get what he wanted, as he would abuse his wife. For just a moment, Draco wished he could kill them both.

“Yes,” he responded tightly.

“Draco, look at me,” his mother urged, and at last, the boy did. “Do not kill Severus,” she said softly.

“But he-” Draco started off in a passionate argument.

“Draco,” his mother’s voice quivered, causing him to stop. “If you have any of me in you, then you will see the wisdom in keeping your godfather alive.”

With that, the witch, stood up, her son along with her, before she looked him in the eyes. Sparks of understanding shot through the boy at his mother’s cold icy stare, before she squeezed his hand and walked out of the room. Her son watched her go.

Looking about the wreckage of the room, Draco picked up the picture that his father had so singled out to destroy in his second rage. Looking at it, the young wizard realized that it was a picture of himself and Snape. They both looked a bit haggard, no doubt from being thrown to the ground so violently, but when the two figures looked up at Draco, the younger version of the boy waved excitedly, while the professor merely inclined his head.

Sitting down heavily into the chair that his mother had sat in only a moment before, Draco stared at the picture for a long while, tears gather in his eyes. He recalled something the professor had told him on more than one occasion:

With tears bursting free from his eyes, Draco threw the picture into the fire.

1994

“WHAT!” Sirius stood up so quickly that his chair fell over. Molly had cried out and burst into tears, while Remus nearly fell out of his chair from shock. “Albus, what the hell are you talking about?” the convict exclaimed. 

Sitting with his back straight, his face void of all emotion, the Headmaster looked around at the horrified faces before him. “Like I said, Harry was…was killed last night in a fire started by Death Eaters.”

“But that can’t be!” Sirius exploded. “No, no way! This isn’t true! You’re lying, now where is he?”

“Headmaster, why would they kill Harry?” Remus spoke up, placing a calming hand on his friend’s shoulder, not that it did much good. “I always thought that they wanted Harry alive.”

Slowly, Albus shook his head sadly. “I tracked the Death Eaters. They only seemed to be searching for a way Harry could get out. They found none. He’s dead.”

Molly wailed loudly at this, as Arthur tried his best to comfort his wife, but seemed to be having just as hard of time keeping his own feelings at bay. Tonks began to cry as well, but she remained silent in her grief, while Shaklebolt kept shaking his head, as though trying to think of how he had not protected Harry enough.

Sirius was beside himself in agonized fury. He began screeching and cussing, shouting and growling all in one. Beside him, Remus just looked tired. His amber eyes were clouded over with grief, and his posture sagged. It seemed unreal that the son of their fellow Marauder could die…but then again, James had seemed just as invincible as well.

“All that must be done now is to keep this as quiet as possible,” Dumbledore went on, staring at Minerva, who had tears streaming down from her eyes, and Filius, who looked green. “No one can know about this. Not even Ron and Hermione, I’m afraid.”

“Now see here!” Arthur spoke up, his wife still unable to do so. “Ron and Harry have been friends since their first day at Hogwarts, and Hermione just as long! I’m not going to lie to my family about this, Albus. They deserve to know.”

“You can’t hush this up anyway,” it was surprisingly Remus that snapped at the old wizard. “Everyone’s going to notice when Harry Potter doesn’t show up on the Hogwarts Express. And if you don’t tell them what happened, Headmaster, they’ll make up all kinds of stories.”

“But he can’t just tell the whole world!” Filius squeaked. “What do you think everyone would say! They’d all give up hope, and then what would happen? Hogwarts be overrun with Death Eaters?”

And the argument began, with Sirius voicing his opinion the loudest. The animagi fought violently to keep himself from crying, but it was becoming more and more difficult. At last the damn broke, and Sirius flipped over the table, Tonks, Shaklebolt, and Remus all having to scramble away quickly.

 “I don’t care what any of you say!” the man screamed, shameless tears streaking his face. “I’m going to find my godson!”

“But he’s gone,” Tonks spoke up when no one else would. “He’s dead. Who do you suppose has him then other than the angels?”

Panting like the deranged animal he had been, Sirius turned his murderous eyes upon the girl that had spoken against him. He truly was frightening when angry. “The Death Eaters have him, I know it!”

“And what makes you think that?” Tonks did not back down. Her grief always came out in argument. “Where will you start you search? You’re wanted too you know!”

Snarling, the dark haired man looked towards the door. “I’ll start in Scotland.”

“Why?” Molly looked up, hope shining in her watery brown eyes. “Do you think that this was all staged? What’s in Scotland?”

“Snape,” Sirius growled dangerous.

“Severus?” Minerva seemed to snap out of her shock. “Why would you want to find Severus?”

“Isn’t it obvious!” Black cried. “Snape’s the one that told the Death Eaters. He must have! He found out where Harry lived and then went crawling back to the Death Eaters and told them were my godson lived! It all makes sense!”

“No,” Minerva shook her head feverishly. “No, absolutely not. Not Severus,” she refused to let Sirius speak again. “I’ve gotten to know Severus quite well over the years and he would never betray us! He’s spent the last three years watching over and protecting Harry!”

“Minerva,” Filius muttered.

“I don’t care what I promised him then,” the Head of Gryffindor hissed, like the lioness she was. “I’m not going to stand by and let all of you taint Severus’s good name! And yes, he has been watching over Harry. He and I have worked quite closely the past three years in order to protect the child. He would never turn Harry in to the Death Eaters, no matter how much he dislikes Harry as a student!”

Not dissuaded in the least, Sirius only looked more determined. “So you think,” he snorted to his former teacher. “I know Snape, and I know he hates Harry. He probably saw this as an opportunity to get rid of him. Why wouldn’t he do it?”

“Because Harry is Lily’s son.”

The room fell silent as everyone looked towards the Headmaster. For his part, Albus sat calmly as he watched the other younger witches and wizards fight amongst themselves. Dumbledore had sworn that he would not tell anyone just how much Severus had loved Lily, and, indeed, he had known how much the younger wizard had loved the red-head, but he wished he could convey his trust in Snape through his eyes.

“Severus would never harm Harry,” the Headmaster spoke again, once the room was sufficiently quiet. “He loved Lily too much for that.”

“What?” Sirius looked absolutely appalled at the idea that the Potions Master was actually capable of love, and enraged that the slimy git would have the nerve to fall in love with the animagi’s best mate’s wife. “That completely-”

“That’s the truth,” Dumbledore cut in shortly. “And to put your mind at rest, Sirius, Severus actually did not want me to send Harry back to the Dursleys.”

“What do you mean back?” Remus was finding his temper was surprisingly hard to control. He was usually so easy-going.

With a great sigh, as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, Albus looked down at his folded hands. He did not want to tell them about his shameful neglect, or about how he had been proven wrong by none other than the generally nasty, short-tempered Potions Master, but there was no other way. After he had destroyed Severus’s marriage and forgot him in Azkaban, Albus had vowed never again to leave Severus alone and defenseless when he could not speak for himself. He wanted to keep that promise.

“When I had my meeting with Severus yesterday, to discuss what would happen to him, he had brought Harry along with him,” the Headmaster explained. “He seemed quite distressed by Harry’s... living arrangements.”

The whole room was dead silent, even Sirius, who seemed to want every detail. There was no mistaking the Gryffindor Black’s anger and it was clear that at any sign of trouble in the story, he was going to be gone and on the trail of a certain Slytherin. Next to Black, Remus keep close watch on his friend.

“He told me that he wanted to send Harry to the Weasleys,” Dumbledore nodded over to Arthur and Molly, who were looking quite ill. Molly began to sniffle again. “But I told him it would be unsafe.”

“Why?” Filius raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you want to send Harry there?”

Looking up, staring at all the impatient, grieved faces, Albus knew he could not delay much longer. “Death Eater gatherings have all been spotted, as you know, and I did not want to send Harry away. I thought the Blood Wards would be the best protection for Harry.

 “Severus, on the other hand, fought with me the whole way.” Dumbledore winced at some particular parts of his conversation with the Slytherin and realized now, too late, that he deserved Severus’s wrath. However was he going to tell the Potions Master about this?  

“He told me about what he suspected the Dursleys did to Harry over the summers, and why Harry always came back in worse shape than he went home,” Albus said softly. “I don’t know how long we fought about this,” the old wizard admitted. “But I would say at least two hours. He… he was quite clear in telling me that I was a fool. Only now do I see how right he was.”

Again, the story was met with silence as the Order members were all deep in thought. Sirius seemed to be having trouble digesting this image of his childhood nemeses standing up for the son of his best friend. The Weasleys, Tonks, and Shaklebolt also seemed to be having a little trouble with the thought of the normally snarky, bad tempered Potions Master standing up for one of his hated student. Remus had better acceptance of this after he had taught the year before and had seen just how close attention the Slytherin actually paid his children and how he even went out of his way to help them. It was Minerva and Filius who were nodded vigorously, grasping on to this information and good image of the prickly young Slytherin that had wormed his way into their hearts.

“See,” Filius spoke up. “I knew Severus would not turn Harry in. He was trying to protect the boy, Sirius.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, the animagi refused to understand. “No, no he must be playing at something. Sniv-”

“Shut up, Sirius!” Remus finally did lose his temper. He was tired and heartbroken. There was a pressure pushing on the back of his eyes and his head pounded, making him wonder if his brain wasn’t collapsing. “If Severus stood up for Harry, then Severus stood up for Harry. He’s not that bad.”

“How can you say that after everything he’s done to you?” Black spat, growling very much like a dog.

“He never really did anything to me,” the werewolf replied candidly. “He only ever did anything to me when I did something to him. He’s not evil, Padfoot, he only gives back what's given to him. That’s all.”

“But I know he’s up to something!” Sirius’s eyes took on a glint like a bloodhound just itching to get out on the trail. “Remember how he treated you last year? The way he got you sacked?”

“That’s none of your concern,” Lupin growled. “And further more-”

“Gentlemen! Gentlemen, please,” Minerva stood up, and barked. Both men shrank pack like the schoolboys they were in the past. “Enough of this. We shouldn’t be arguing about Severus and his loyalties. We all know he’s loyal to the Light,” she glared at the eldest Black brother. “We need to discuss what we’re going to be doing now that Harry’s…well…” she began to tear up.

“I’m telling Ron,” Arthur spoke up again, still hugging his wife. “He and Hermione, at least, deserve to know.”

“I, of course, cannot stop you,” Dumbledore said quietly. “But consider; they are both still young, and if they find out that their friend is dead, they will more than likely wish to express their grief to others. It would be a terrible silence to bear. The secret would not last long, I’m afraid.”

“And having them not know is better?” Filius spoke up. “Those two would set out looking for any clues at all about Harry. No doubt they would bother all the teachers about it before they went looking for trouble.”

Yet again, another argument ensued, but none could really believe that they were fighting over how to hide the death of Harry Potter. It was decided, after great length, that Arthur and Molly would tell Ron and Hermione, when she came over, and pray that the two would not inform the rest of the Weasley family; although Molly made no promises that the other children would not find out. And it was also decided that another meeting would be in order, one in which Snape had to attend so they could find out all the details from him about the summer.

It probably would have made them all sick to know that at the moment, Harry was safe and away in Llanfair, enjoying a delicious breakfast prepared by his father, Severus Snape.

After the dishes were all washed and put away, Harry waited anxiously to see what his father would do next. Snape, not catching on to his son’s excitement, walked from the kitchen, his son in tow, and merely sat down in the parlor, and began to read a small book. The boy frowned in disappointment. He had thought they were going to do something…well, more exciting than this!

“I thought you said we were going to go explore the town,” Harry said, hoping that he did not sound too disappointed with the turn of events.

“We are,” the Potions Master nodded, not even bothering to look in the boy’s direction.

“Then why aren’t we going?” the young wizard asked, hoping this was not some sort of trick. Despite Snape being his father now, Harry knew that the man had a quirked sense of humor.

Looking up completely undisturbed, if not a bit annoyed, the professor closed his book and stared at the boy with a raised eyebrow. “I had thought you would want to change first,” he nodded to Harry. “Had I known you wanted to walk around Wales in not but your night attire, we would have left directly.”

Looking down at his own clothes, Harry blushed, realizing that he was indeed still in his pajamas. He had been so excited waking up to what he suspected would count as a normal morning for most, that he had completely forgotten about changing first. “Oh,” he muttered sheepishly. “I’ll, uh, be right back.”

Harry was so embarrassed with the events that he fled from the room, and did not look back. If he had, he would have seen a smirk of amusement on the stern, older wizard’s face. Despite what people tended to say and believe, Severus really did have a sense of humor, a fair one at that. But it was also true that he did indeed have a slightly…odd sense of humor that always got him in trouble. He still had a scar from Minerva to prove it.

In his room, Harry rushed in and shut the door before he rummaging through his clothes. He did have a few pairs of nicer clothes that he wore around Hogwarts, but the majority were from Dudley, the cow. But what should he wear when walking around in Wales? Or more importantly, when walking around with Snape!

Grabbing a pair of school pants, the young wizard decided that he should wear a pair of black slacks and a red, Gryffindor color shirt that he had bought to wear the day before a Quiddich match. But when he looked at himself in the mirror, Harry realized with some horror that he would be parading around like the perfect Gryffindor Snape always sneered about. The Potions Master hated Gryffindor, but Harry did not have any Slytherin green colors to please the man. What if-

“Pardon me,” the deep voice caught Harry by surprise, causing him to jump. When he turned around, the young wizard saw Snape standing in the doorway. When in Merlin’s name had he gotten there?

“Oh! Um, come in?” the fourteen year old looked around nervously, hoping things did not look too messy.

“Is that a question or given permission?” Snape frowned at the boy, who stood in the middle of the room.

“Permission?” Harry took a stab at a guess. Who knew what the wizard really wanted. Everyone knew that this professor was an enigma. No one ever knew what he wanted.

Nodding his head, Severus proceeded into the little bedroom. “You realize you will have to clean this when we get back?” he asked, looking at all the clothes thrown everywhere in slight disgust. 

Blushing again, Harry nodded. “Yeah, I know. I was just looking for something…nice to wear.”

Glancing around the room, taking in the condition of all the clothes, Severus realized that the child really did not have anything nice to wear. It was a sad business when the boy had to revert to his school clothes in order to make himself look passable to the rest of the world. Painful memories of his own childhood stood out in the Potions Master’s mind, but he promptly shoved them aside.

“Understanding,” the older wizard replied, not wanting his son to feel inadequate in front of him. “But now that you are dressed, I need you to come with me.”

Swallowing hard, Harry nodded and followed his father out of his bedroom and into the hall. They ended up back into the parlor where Severus ordered the younger wizard to sit, as he paced the room. This was not going to be easy for him, he realized, with him having a short temper, and Harry being a child that needed a lot more than just food and water. But he was determined to prove everyone wrong, and do what he could.

“Before we leave, I want to set up some ground rules,” the Potions Master stated, hands clasped behind his back. “First, please get ready before breakfast. There is no use in you wandering around all day in your pajamas.” Harry blushed again. “Along with that, you will wake up at a decent hour every morning. I have no patience for a slothful person that sits about all day doing nothing.”

“I don’t sit around all day,” Harry mumbled, feeling a little hurt at the statement.

“And you will not become one under my care,” Severus reassured. Some how, it did not make the younger wizard feel any better. “Second are chores.”

Here, Harry found himself becoming very nervous. Was Snape going to make him cook and clean like the Dursleys? Had the past few days just been a trick to get him to trust the older man? Would Snape make him sit on his hands and knees scrubbing the floors, or punish him if he did not clean fast enough?

“You will be expected to keep your room neat and organized,” the professor went on, unaware of his son’s distress. “And you will be expected to help with dinner by setting the table, or helping make a dish, and then helping me wash the dishes.

“It will also be up to you to pick up your things. I am not your maid,” Severus glared hard at the child, wanting to get his point across. “If you make a mess, then you clean it up. Unless you’re violently ill, I am not going to cater after you, but I will help you if you are unable to complete a task. You have only but to ask.”

As he listened to each set of rules, Harry found that they were not bad at all. The Dursleys had never given him guidelines and set rules. He had never known what was considered breaking the rules and what was not. At least Snape was making this a little bit like school, making all of this like an assignment. He could live with assignments.

“Now, along with all of this, you must remember that we are hiding from the wizarding world,” Snape stressed, making Harry feel like a two year old. “And because of that, there will be no magic done in this house hold, except when needed. You are not allowed to use it anyway, but it is twice as important now that you do not use it. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry fought hard against fidgeting under Snape’s powerful glare. The boy was convinced that his father could frighten Voldemort himself.

“I mean it,” the wizard went on, his eyes alight with seriousness and anger. “Not one spell, not one charm, nothing. The Ministry would be able to pinpoint our location in seconds. As this has all been improvised from the beginning, I have yet to figure out another place where we could go if found out here.”

Now the Potions Master seemed to be talking to himself, and he began to pace furiously again. “But that is none of your concern,” he waved it off. “I have several options,” he nodded more for himself than for Harry.

“So, we’re Muggles at all times, sir?” Harry spoke up.

The master wizard stopped his pacing and stared down at his child. Those eyes, those beautiful green eyes that made his heart both sing and bleed were looking up at him expectantly, trustingly! It had all been easier to dislike Harry when those green eyes had shown the same dislike back, but now it was all different. Those eyes were showing their tiredness, their hope, their fears. Severus could not hold on to the past much longer, he knew.

He was a fool when it came to Lily, anything about Lily. He had spent the whole night reading her journal, reading it faithfully until the last page. Severus had cried, he had tasted bitterness so fresh, so raw that he thought he would go mad. It had hurt him so much to read of his love’s anguish, her fear, her torment, and knowing that it had all been for nothing at all. He had been alive! He should have sought her out! But it was all in the past now, and all he could do was hold on to the child that she had left behind.

“Yes,” Severus hoped he wouldn’t choke. “Yes. You are to be a Muggle in the strictest sense. And although I will not use magic much, there may be times when I am required to use it, but you must not let on to the neighbors.”

Harry nodded enthusiastically. “I’m use to living like a Muggle, sir. Are we going now?”

A Muggle? More like a house elf, Severus thought resentfully, but he did not say as much. It still surprised the professor that this child had such spirit, such spunk left in him. After everything Harry had been through, it was a wonder the child had not turned out more…well, more like him. But the wizard could only bless Lily for that, as Harry seemed to have her general temperament.

“We will leave soon enough,” Severus snapped. With his growing sentimental thoughts, the wizard became more defensive, and he hid his feeling the only way he knew how; through his temper.

But he instantly regretted his words when he saw Harry’s face crumble and his green eyes look hurt. It looked far too much like Lily for Severus’s own comfort, and he found that he wanted to say something, to apologize even, but his pride and his inability to socialize properly, held his tongue. It always frustrated Snape to no end when he could not even admit to the little things. He had grown up far to quick and bitter than what was normal.

Starting up his pacing once more, the Potions Master tried hard not to look at his son’s deject form. “We need to discuss punishment.” Harry blanched. “If you fail to keep up with your chores, or neglect them all together, I will take away certain privileges accordingly, or I may have you work on some other chore. It will not be unlike a detention,” the professor nodded. “Think of it as a detention.”

Harry gulped. Detentions with Snape had never been good. The man had come up with the most terrible, horrifying, disgusting things for his students to do. Harry’s hands had blistered and burned for days after the Potions Master had made him scrub out cauldrons once, and the time the man made him scrub the potions room floor had been hell. It was then that Harry had vowed never to make the man mad again, though at the time he had used the term “greasy git.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry nodded, hang his head down.

“There is one more thing,” Severus tried to make his voice more gentle, but when the child flinched ever so slightly, he realized that it had come out when he was making a threat, only with a little less venom.

Sitting down next to his son, Severus lifted the boy’s chin. Again, the professor was assaulted with the look of two large emerald eyes staring at him. “I need change you back into a Snape again,” his voice came out more gently now that he could see the boy.

The green eyes went wide again, and for a moment, Severus could identify every emotions that flashed across the child’s face. There was confusion, understanding, horror, anger, shyness, boldness, and still more confusion. “We are father and son,” the master wizard decided to elaborate. “As such, we need to look like father and son.”

Taking out his wand, Severus grabbed Lily’s diary from off of the coffee table, and opened it to the page where Lily had figured out a charm to hide her son. The entire spell was simply genius and Severus found himself very proud for his wife’s accomplishments. He only wished that he could have told her so.

Harry watched as his father brought that terrifying black wand up to his face. There was a part of him that wanted to run away and hide. Having Snape’s wand pointed at him like this had never been something that the young wizard had ever wanted, and quite frankly, had always thought would be suicide if he did allow it. But he did not want to disappoint the man, as his father had been so excited about finding the charm in the first place. It would be wrong to hurt the man’s feelings.

Merlin, I’m thinking of Snape’s feelings, Harry thought ironically.

But the boy held very still, waiting for the Potions Master to do his worst. Snape began by speaking a very long, complicated Latin phrase that Harry had never heard before, nor did he understand. Each time the phrase was spoken Severus moved his wand, tapping first Harry’s forehead, then his chin, then the cheeks before waving his wand over the length of the boy’s body.

“Ostendo sum occultus , ostendo quis est subter supter. Fulsi lux lucis in atrum locus, restituo verus vultus,” the deep voice chanted again and again, until Harry was so relaxed that he thought he might fall asleep.

But as he was about to fall asleep, Harry felt the strangest tingling sensation run throughout his entire body. It felt so strange, like someone was pouring ice water in his veins, only it was not cold, but still held the same effect. There was a moment when he felt as though he was burning, as though his flesh was being scorched off, but it stopped just as soon as it began. His head, his brain, felt like it was being rearranged too, as though his skull were being crushed. But again, it stopped almost the moment it began.

It was all so taxing, that Harry fell back in his seat, panting, as though he had just run a marathon across all of the United Kingdom. He was hot, yet cold, and he thought he might fall asleep at any given moment. It was one of the oddest feelings the boy had ever felt in his life.

When the boy looked over at his father, he found the Potions Master staring at him with the oddest look of satisfaction, shock, and awe. Two of the three emotions Harry did not think were a natural look on the man’s face, but he decided that there must be something to look at. “What?” he asked, finding his throat exceedingly dry.

With out a word, Snape grabbed a hand held mirror, and handed it over to Harry. When the boy took it, he found himself dreading what he might find. Whatever had happened to him, how he looked now was enough to silence the snaky tongue of his professor, and to Harry, that was not a good thing. Holding his breath, he took the plunge and looked at himself.

In the mirror there stared back at him was a boy that Harry had never seen before. Although this boy still had black hair and the same green eyes, the face in which they sat was completely different.

The black hair, although the same in color, was straight and smooth, not sticking up everywhere like it once had. The shape of the face was no longer a round shape, but a sharp, long face with higher cheekbones and distinct features. The lips seemed to be thin, yet full at the same time, giving more character to the face. The nose, heaven forbid, was the same as Snape’s. Almost. On second glance, it seemed smaller than the Potions Master’s, seeming to be a bit of a mix between the Snape side and the Evans side. In the long run, it was a pleasing sort of nose, that added to the improvement of the face. The eyebrows could only be said to have come from Snape as well, as they seemed able to convey anything without the use of words.

Staring at the mirror another moment longer, Harry found himself touching his face, and watching as the mirror image responded with the same movements. Shaking his head in shock, Harry found himself smiling disbelievingly. “No way,” he said to himself.

“You do not like the change?”

The questions startled Harry enough that he jumped. When he looked up, he saw a frown set into the Potions Master’s face. “Huh? Oh no! It’s not that,” the boy quickly covered up. “It’s just that… it’s not me.”

“That is you,” Severus found himself saddened by the fact that his own son wanted nothing more than to be a James Potter look alike. “What you saw before was not you. This is you now. A Snape.”

There was no mistaking the hurt pride in the wizard’s tone, and Harry, with a jolt, realized that Snape wanted to be proud of his son. That the professor was proud that his son looked so much like him. But what the Potions Master did not understand was that it was a big step, changing ones face.

But then another realization hit the boy. He was a Snape. He had known that for days, but now that there was an almost miniature model of the Head of Slytherin staring back at him in a mirror, Harry truly realize that he was indeed a Snape. He was Harry Snape. No, he would have to be Severin Harrison Tiberius Snape. That’s who he was now. That’s really who he was all the time.

“It’s a good change,” Harry said after a moment, nodding to his reflection. In truth, the boy in the mirror was much more attractive than Harry Potter, or that’s at least what Harry thought. This boy staring at him had character, something about him was… secretive, and yet more animated if he chose. “I think I’ll grow to like this a lot better.” And he meant it too.

Severus had to fight to keep from laughing. Seeing Harry as he was meant to look just made Snape feel… happy. Even though the boy took a striking resemblance to him, Severus could still see features in the child that rang out as Lily. It made him glad to see that Lily had not been left out of her child after all. This was his and Lily’s son. They had made this child together.

But just then, there was a knock at the door. Standing up, Severus put his wand away, and walked cautiously to the door. He opened it, and there, standing on the step, was a woman of about sixty years or so, with graying, brown hair piled messily on top her head. She had a kind face with bright blue eyes, and she wore a long skirt and an old blouse.

“Bore da Mr. Brandon!” the woman exclaimed. “It is very good to see you again so soon,” her voice was light, but held a thick Welsh accent. “Moved in just fine I see.”

Looking a bit annoyed and relieved, Severus nodded to the woman. “Good morning, Mrs. Cadogan,” the wizard nodded again. “Yes, I am all moved in, thank you.”

“And who is that strapping young man behind you?” the woman pointed over to Harry, who sat confused on the couch.

“That is my son, Mrs. Cadogan, Peter,” Severus lied smoothly.

Mrs. Cadogan did not seem to understand Harry’s slight wince, but clapped joyously. “Well, I am very pleased to meet you young Brandon. Come here and let me have a look at you,” she demanded.

Amused, though still tired, Harry did as he was told and walked over to the woman. “Peter, this is Mrs. Cadogan, the woman we’re renting the house from,” Severus gave him a stern look, and Harry supposed he was warning him to play along.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Cadogan,” Harry nodded.

“Oh! Such a polite young lad!” the woman exclaimed in delight. “Like his Da’ I suppose,” she winked over at Severus. “And a strappin’ young lad at that!” she spun Harry around. “Gets that from his Da’ too I think!”

Harry gave Severus a discrete look of questioning, while Severus tried his best to ignore it. Mrs. Cadogan was not the kind of person that you would normally think of Professor Snape keeping company with, but he was an extremely patient man, when it served his purpose, and as of now, he really needed to stay hidden here, and needed to pay his landlord every respect. She was really no worse than Dumbledore.

“Such a fine day out, it is,” the woman smiled. “Are you English just going to sit in there and waste it all?”

“We were actually planning on taking a walk, Mrs. Cadogan, so if-”

“Ach! A walk!” the woman exclaimed delightedly. “You must let me show you around. Now, now, Mr. Brandon, no arguing. You may be half Welsh, but that accent of yours could get you in trouble with some of the locals. Let me show you around.”

Knowing of nothing else to do, Severus relented. “Very well. If you are certain it would not inconvenience you.”

“Heavens no!” the Muggle waved off the concern. “Allow me to show you Llanfair at her best.”

Harry could tell that the woman could potentially get on his father’s nerve, but he was surprised by the Potions Master’s patience. Stepping aside, Severus let Harry go first out the door before stepping out himself. He locked the door behind him.

“Honestly, Christopher!” Mrs. Cadogan scolded lightly. “No need to lock up so tight. This isn’t England!”

Severus was finding it a bit difficult to stomach the woman this morning, but he managed not to scowl. “One can never be too careful,” he offered.

Mrs. Cadogan laughed, and Harry smiled. “Ah, well, old habits and all. Let’s go!” and like a rocket, the old woman took off.

As they walked on, Harry fell in step alongside his father, a smile plastered on his new face. “I think I like it here.” He smiled wider when Severus rolled his eyes.

1994

By the time Severus and Harry got back to the house, after following Mrs. Cadogan around all day, the two wizards were thoroughly tired out. For being an old woman, Mrs. Cadogan could certainly move! It was surprising that a woman her age could be that quick. It actually made Harry feel a bit ashamed of himself, having an old woman outlast him in stamina.

But as the two sat down, something came up into Harry’s mind as he watched Snape, his father, sit down heavily and open a book. “Um, sir?” he asked timidly.

Glancing up for his volume, the professor’s eyes bore into Harry’s once more, making that fourteen year old feel at a distinct disadvantage from the adult wizard. “Yes?” the Potions Master asked surprisingly patient.

“I was, you know, just wondering why on earth you told Mrs. Cadogan that my name was Peter.”

The sneer that came to Harry’s face looked so natural, so very Snape like, that Severus had a hard time stopping himself from rubbing his eyes to take a double take. The boy did take a striking resemblance to the Snapes, no doubt about that. Just looking at the face before him, one that Severus knew so well, and yet did not, he could not help but feel at the disadvantage. Harry’s new face always took his father’s breath away every time. Was that pride that Severus felt when he thought about having a child that looked so much like him?

But when the words of the actual question sunk in, the Potions Master frowned at the memory that was brought to mind.

“Damit, Peter, after everything, you had to-”

“And who’s Peter then, love?”

Closing his eyes tightly, cursing himself for talking to himself with out actually checking to make sure that Mrs. Cadogan was not close enough to hear, Severus turned around to face his inquirer, his face and manner relaxed even though he certainly did not feel so calm. “My son,” he blurted out, not really thinking everything through much, just wanting to cover his mistake.

“Ah, the young man ran afoul with you then?” Mrs. Cadogan nodded knowingly. “Now don’t you be to hard on him, Mr. Brandon, you hear me? Young men always like to get into trouble now and then.”

Bowing his head slightly to the old Welsh woman, Severus pretended to take the advice to heart well. “I shall, Mrs. Cadogan,” his voice was silk, hoping that he could soothe the old woman enough that she’d leave him alone. “Thank you.”

“You seem a severe one, Mr. Brandon,” the old woman looked Snape up and down carefully. “I’m sure you could use your son around to lighten your mood.”

Mrs. Cadogan huffed, shaking her head. “You’ve been around the English too much, Mr. Brandon,” she smiled. “For having a Welsh father, he must not have taught you how to be a good Welsh boy, or you’d not be so serious all the time.”

Memories of Tobias Snape popped up into Severus’s mind and he scowled. He could just see the drunken bastard that had spawned him in his mind. He could hear the rebukes, the ridicule, the lies; feel the beatings, the belt and the sharp slaps upside the head. “I’m certain he did not teach me right,” Severus said tightly.

Amazingly, Mrs. Cadogan seemed to understand that Severus was not, or had not been on good terms with his father, and let the matter drop. “Well then, I look forward to meeting young, Peter is it? When does he arrive?”

“Tonight,” Severus responded automatically. “Late tonight.”

“Well, then I’ll let you get things ready for your son’s arrive,” the old woman smiled kindly. “I’m sure you’re anxious to see him again.”

As he watched the old woman go, Severus was left with his troubling thoughts of his past, and the possible future disasters to come. “Peter,” he snorted once alone. “What a name.”

After several minutes or silence, Harry was certain that his father was not going to answer him, when the Potions Master suddenly spoke up. “Some things just needed to be covered up.”

Not really understanding what the elder wizard meant, Harry frowned again. Why couldn’t the master wizard just give simple answers? It was like he enjoyed confusing not just his students, but everyone around him. Maybe that’s why Dumbledore liked the Potions Master so much, because they were both secretive and never gave it to you straight. It was a theory anyway. How else could the two of them lived with the other after all these years?

“Couldn’t I change it to something else?” Harry asked.

Setting his book aside, Severus stared down into the face of his distressed offspring. “You want to suddenly change your name?” he looked disapprovingly at the boy.

“Why not?” the young wizard asked. “I’ve already had to change my entire name once this summer. And I don’t want to be known as Peter.”

Scowling at the bitterness behind the declaration, Severus found himself becoming less and less patient with the boy. After finding out that Harry was his son several days ago, it was like the wizard’s temper had been suspended, forgotten, used only against the others around he and the boy. But now that he was alone with Harry, Severus was coming out of his surprise and his worry and his anger was, unfortunately, coming back to re-realize all of the boy‘s flaws and imperfections that he had so loathed when at school again. Being a smart mouth came to mind.

“Harry, you don’t understand,” the professor said sternly. “The name Peter is what Mrs. Cadogan knows, and she’ll suspect something’s amiss if you change it suddenly. Anyway, she‘s introduced you as Peter all around town.”

“And giving the name Christopher Brandon is any better?” Harry snapped. “Isn’t that the name of a book character?”

“That is not the point,” Severus growled. “That name was given many years ago.”

Not understanding, the younger wizard continued to glare at his father. “It’s not anything big,” Harry tried to reason. “I just don’t want to be known as Peter.”

“Then tell them to call you Pete, or some other nickname,” the Potions Master went back to reading his book.

How could that man be so infuriating? It was like Snape could just turn off his compassion and his reasonable demeanor whenever he pleased. He was so closed minded and could be so infuriatingly calm when it served his purpose. Harry found himself becoming increasingly angry with the professor.

“I don’t want to be known as Peter or anything else relating to Peter,” Harry growled right back. “I want a new name.”

Harry jumped when the older wizard suddenly snapped his book closed. The elder wizard turned burning eyes upon his son, and the young wizard realized that he had perhaps had gone too far. “What you want?” Snape hissed. Harry’s blood ran cold. “Everything I’ve done this summer was to accommodate you, you ungrateful brat! All anyone’s ever done was try to protect and help you, and you don’t even notice! Can’t you suffer through one insignificant drawback? Or do you have to always have everything your way, Potter?”

The two wizards sat facing each other, resentment on both sides radiating through the air. Two stubborn wills came clashing together, when at last, Harry had to look away. He never could keep Snape’s eye like that. Those eyes were just so hard and so very cold. It was like falling into a black, endless pit, waiting with dread for a pendulum to come and slice you in half.

Standing up, fighting back the tears that so ridiculously sprung into his eyes, Harry walked away, turning his back on his father. If Snape had a problem with that, then that wasn’t his problem anymore. Why the hell did he care what that greasy git thought anyway? The man really had no feelings at all. If that old bat wanted to call him names, well then, that wasn’t Harry’s problem, he had endured similar taunts before from the Potions Master. What made this time any different? Snape was just… he was…

…his father…

*******

There was a moment, when the boy’s back was turned to him, that Severus thought he was going to completely lose himself. How dare that child be so ungratefully, turning his back to Severus like that! Didn’t the brat realize everything Severus had done for him? How Severus risked everything to keep the boy safe? To make sure that Harry was comfortable, to make sure that he had a place to stay, to keep him away from abusive relative? Damnit, didn’t the boy realize that everyone cared about him?

In fury, Severus stood up, intent on grabbing the unappreciative child’s shoulder, spinning him around and demand that they came to an understanding over this; which meant that Harry would have to accept his new “name” and get on with life. It really wasn’t all that bad. The boy was so dramatic!

But just as the Potions Master was starting to stalk towards his wayward son, he heard a very soft, but very distinct sound. With that one little noise, Severus froze, startled by not only the noise itself, but his response to it. It had been a sob; Harry was crying… and Severus cared.

Taken aback, the professor simply stood stunned for a few moments before he felt something trickle through him, slowly at first, something icy, something fridge, before it completely flooded into his heart, weighing it down until it was almost unbearable. Oh yes, Severus knew this feeling, he knew it so well, he had felt it many times before, but that fact did not lessen the distressed he felt for it now. Regret was a terribly powerful thing; Severus’s constant companion. And now it extended itself on to his son.

When he heard the door to Harry’s bedroom slam shut, it was then that the trance was broken, and Severus could breathe again. But why should he feel so badly? He had only spoken the truth, and he had not said anything that did not need to be said…right? Tiredly, the new father went and sat back down in his chair, wondering what had gone wrong.

For over an hour Severus mulled over the conversation, the quick, seemingly meaningless conversation that had left his son in such a dreadful state. The more he thought through Harry’s words and his own, the more he came to hate himself for them. Why had he been so short with the child? Harry was only fourteen years old! And he went and growled at the child and even called him brat. Merlin, he even called him Potter. What kind of father degraded his son like that? But then again, Severus had never had a good example. No, no that was no excuse for treating Harry so ill.

Sighing, running his hands through his hair, Severus stared down at the floor. He was not good at this. How could anyone be a father? Especially to a child with a past such as Harry’s? Merlin, his own childhood could not be counted on to drawl out any useful information, he had had it just as bad as his son… A son that he should have known about and protected.

“I’m sorry, Lily,” the professor whispered miserably. Why couldn’t Lily have lived and he have died? She would have been able to take care of their son so much better than him. Merlin, before just a few days ago, he had hated his son, had disliked all children really. And now he was suddenly thrown a child and bound to care for it? What was the world coming to? He should not be left with a child.

The Weasleys sprung back up into Severus’s mind again. Now they knew how to care and nurture children, if not spoil them slightly, at least where affection is concerned. They would know how to care for Harry. The boy should have gone to stay with them instead. Severus just could not handle children for more than a few hours at a time. Lily would have been able to care for her son, been able to love their child the way Harry needed to be loved. Lily would have been better than the Weasleys.

Staring at the flames in the fireplace, Severus decided that neither time nor chance had been kind to him. He had not the talent for communicating easily with others. Sure, he could talk to just about anyone intellectually for hours, if need be, as long as the discussion remained professional and impersonal. What the wizard could not do was discuss matters on a personal level. No one knew his full history, and quite frankly, that was the way Severus wanted it. He did not want everyone knowing just how poor he had been, just how abused, just how lonely. No one needed to know what he thought all the time, nor how he went about doing his work. It was all his own business.

The only other person that Severus had been able to confide in other than himself had been Lily. There was nothing that he could not tell her. She was so understanding, so generous in her affection. When he had cried, she had cried; when he had been sad, she had been sad; when he had been happy, she had been happy. Only in Lily had Severus truly felt human.

Now, the wizard felt cold and empty. The night Lily died had been the night when Severus had lost his last link to humanity. Lily had helped him feel, even when he had thought she had betrayed him. At least he had felt something. When she died, Severus had felt as though he had become completely detached from the world. From that day on, he had not shown empathy, understanding, compassion, nothing for others. All he had showed was anger, bitterness, apathy, and disgust. Even if he had felt something, a small amount of human emotion, he pushed it aside, not wanting to be hurt again, until it all became second nature, and the wizard could simply not understand his own emotions anymore; he who boasted a thorough understanding of himself, he who was in constant control of himself.

And it only took a pair of green eyes to undo him again. Meeting Harry, seeing him the first time at Hogwarts had been torture. Seeing the eyes he had loved so well in the face of his enemy had been hell. Seeing the child that he should have had was the worst kind of agony. And watching, realizing that his child was the copy of his rival, while still retaining those emerald, perfect, eyes that shown with such innocence was not to be borne. That was when Severus had begun to feel something again; he had been reintroduced to hatred, his old companion that he had left dormant for years, just waiting to be released.

But now it was all irrelevant. Harry was not the son of his rival, Harry was his son. The green eyes that he had loved so well, he could suddenly love again. The rush was intoxicating… it was suffocating. The entire prospect was terrifying. All the walls and barriers Severus had built up to surround Harry, to keep the child away from him, so that he could better hate the boy, were all for not. The boy was not the enemy anymore, his enemy was a part of himself.

The initial realization had been stunning, had been odd. It had left Severus feeling both overjoyed and confused, angry and delighted. But now that the charm, the utter fantasy aspect was gone, what was left was the wreckage of Severus’s barriers, all of his carefully built up walls. He did not know how he should feel, how he should act. He had been glad of Mrs. Cadogan as the day had gone on today, that she had been the one to talk and interact with Harry. He was not good with children. He knew how to make them behave, how to make them listen without really trying, how to intimidate them, but to get down to their level, to be on a personal basis with them was something completely different. He had not even been good at it when he had been a child. Being left alone with Harry for more than a few hours actually scared the hell out of the Potions Master.

And to suddenly see more of Lily’s traits in her son, and his own traits as well, was not only breath taking, it was frightening. Showing Harry what he really looked like had been wonderful, had made Severus, dare he say it, feel proud, proud that he had a son. But he was now worried that his pleasure in all of this was stemming from getting back at James Potter. What if he turned into his father? Tobias had been, to a certain degree, proud that he had had a son, but it was for vain pride only. Tobias had not cared about anything else Severus had to offer, just that he had a son. Severus did not want to be like his father. The mere thought disgusted him to the core.

But, looking back to the present situation, Severus could not help but dread that he was becoming his father. He enjoyed intimidating students, he got pleasure from barking at them, keeping them quiet. He despised any noise children made, unless it meant that they were being productive. Despite his earlier vow of never harming a child, was the vow Severus clung to merely becoming a shield to hide behind the fact that he really did, in fact, want to make them miserable? There were other ways in hurting someone other than just physical. He knew that, perhaps better than most.

Watching Harry, so hurt, tears in his eyes, the eyes of Lily, hurt the wizard more than he thought possible. Once Severus had calmed, the situation became clear, all the vales had been torn away. While Harry had a stunning resemblance to him, the boy was emotionally more like his mother. Lily had always been sensitive to peoples words, at least the words of those she cared for. That was why she and Severus had had such a falling out. No doubt Harry was the same.

But why? Severus had never made an effort to keep his dislike of Harry a secret in school. On the contrary, he had been pleased to show his loathing of the boy to everyone, especially to Harry. And it came as no surprise that Harry had not liked him either. So why then did the boy cry at a few harsh words from Severus?

Because he cares about you.

The thought was so foreign it took the wizard a moment to grasp the intensity of its meaning. Why would Harry care about him, the feared and hated Potions Master? Why would the boy suddenly throw caution to the wind and begin creating an attachment to Severus? Where was the logic in that?

Harry was so much like Lily, in so many ways. Severus fervently prayed that he would not destroy that innocents.

*******

That day, when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley returned, the children all knew something was wrong. Mrs. Weasley looked absolutely terrible. Her eyes were red rimmed and she had tears in her eyes. Both adults were white as ghosts too.

“Mum, dad, what’s wrong?” Ginny asked the moment she caught sight of her parents.

Molly began to cry again, leaving the room hastily. It was Arthur that was forced to deal with his five children who were watching him anxiously. “I…” he trailed off, taking a moment to collect himself. “I’ll tell you soon,” he stared at his children for another moment. “I promise. Right now, I’d appreciate it if you’d all go do your chores and be nice to your mother today. We’ve…we’ve had a very hard meeting this morning.”

“What’s-”

“-happened, dad?” the twins asked.

“Do not pester your mother,” Arthur looked uncharacteristically stern at his children. “I mean it. Don’t ask her about it, we’ll tell you soon.”

When all the children promised that they would behave, Arthur seemed pleased and grabbed all of his things for work. The Weasley children watched silently, wondering what had happened to cause their parents to be in such a state.

“Ron?” Arthur turned around in the doorway. “Write to Hermione. I think she needs to come for a visit. Tell her I’ll come and get her in a day or two. Whichever is convenient for her.”

Nodding, Ron watched his father go, wondering what on earth could be so wrong to make both his parents act like this. It was as though someone had died. Had someone died? He hoped not, but who could it be to make his parents look so miserable? They had gone to one of their “meetings” with Dumbledore. They never told him or his siblings what went on in the meets or what the meetings were really about, but he’d wager they were pretty important to get his mother out of the house for so long and for his father to risk being late for work.

Walking back into his room that morning, Ron decided that he should do as his father said and write to Hermione. He’d also write to Harry, just to inform his friend that something was up. It was another mystery, Ron was sure of it. He knew that he would need Harry and Hermione here with him to solve it. Besides, if things went right, he could also tell them about the big quidditch game coming up and how his dad was going to try and swing some tickets.

That morning, the youngest Weasley boy sent out two owls. He never imagined that one would come back with its letter undelivered.

1994

It was not like Snape to worry over something that he had said, whether it was insulting or not. The only time the wizard had ever truly regretted his harsh tongue was when he had insulted Lily their fifth year at Hogwarts together. But now Severus regretted his terrible words to Harry, his son. How ironic that he seemed to be the harshest with the people he cared about the most. Did he care about Harry? Yes, yes of course he cared about the boy. Why else would he have gone through all this trouble to keep the boy safe?

It was hard for Severus to sleep, and so he decided that he would not sleep. What rest could he find after such a pointless argument, and after he had been so unreasonable? Of all the faults he had been dealt out, why did the chief among them have to be a short temper? The wizard was convinced that he could have gotten along better had he just been given a more reasonable temperament.

When the sun began to peek over the earth, and rise, was when the Potions Master decided that he should not waste time being idle any longer. An apology was in order, he knew it, but for the life of him, Severus knew that he was not good at such things. He never had been. He had apologized far too much in his youth for nothing, and understanding when it was appropriate to give one as an adult was still hard. He had enjoyed the blessings of maturity without his parents when he never had to say he was sorry about anything. It was only when he was to the breaking point with guilt had he actually begun to realize when such actions were needed, but by then it was mostly too late.

But not this time. No, Severus might not be an orator when it came to apologies, but he would show Harry how sorry he was. He would let the boy discuss the events of the night before on his own good time. Pushing never helped solve anything, especially if Harry really was Snape’s son. Severus believed that as long as he showed that he was repentant and let Harry come to terms with all this, that they would soon be back into the blessed state of numb wonder at the other.

For the first couple of hours, the wizard set about cleaning up the house, even though it was already clean. Once that was done, Severus quickly looked for something else to do, lest he go mad until the hour was decent and Harry would wake. Merlin, what was happening to him? He hadn’t been this anxious since the last Death Eater meeting! And Merlin, that hadn’t even been a full week ago!

But time was against him, and the wizard found that every time he looked at the clock, it was not as far ahead as he thought it should be. What had felt like it had taken thirty minutes at least had only amounted to three minutes. It figured that when he was potion making time slipped away as easily as water over rock, but when he wanted time to pass by quickly, it sat still.

Alone, Severus sighed and flung himself haphazardly down on the sofa, much like a distraught teenager. Although he realized his action, he did not much care at the moment. All he wanted to do was sleep and never wake up, or, alternatively, wake up and find that everything had been a dream. Merlin, what was wrong with him that he would want to go back into the Death Eater thong? He had never considered himself suicidal, but after realizing this…

With nothing else to do, the wizard sat upon the couch and picked up a book to read, though Merlin knew he could not concentrate much on any of the words. He had had to read and reread the same passage over and over again just because his mind would wander to the past. With that in mind, the Potions Master abandoned his book and went to retrieve Lily’s journal.

Once holding the precious leather-bound book, Severus sat down gently and carefully opened it up to read a few passages once more.

Severus closed the journal, his face blank, trying to ward off the emotions that threatened to drown him. There was no way around it, he had to let Harry know he was sorry. He did not want to lose the son he had just found. He did not want to let Lily down.

*******

When Harry woke up, it was once again to the smell of eggs and bacon. Rolling over with a groan, the teenager wished he could simply go back to sleep and not wake up. Yet the longer he laid there, trying to ignore the delicious smells, the more he began to wish that he was not so hungry. But hunger was his undoing, and soon the teenager found himself out of bed and heading for the door.

Just as Harry was about to open the door and walk out into the hall, he remembered one very important thing: he was angry with Snape! After everything they had gone through the last couple of days and how they had gotten along so well had all been wasted after last night when the Potions Master just decided to get angry for no reason whatsoever!

Resentment bringing him into focus, Harry spun back around and glared about his room. While he was angry, he was finding it more and more difficult to really stay angry with the wizard. After all, Harry was only here in this nice little room in Wales because the Potions Master had decided not to abandon his son to his in-laws anymore. And the fact that Snape was feeding him three times a day every day was also very nice, something Harry wasn’t going to take for granted.

Sitting on the end of his bed, the young wizard tried to think. His head hurt. Ever since yesterday, he did not feel like the same person anymore. His thoughts felt all confused and he did not know what to do anymore. There was a part of him that wanted to hang on to his past resentment and another part that just wanted to let it go, let it die. There was an annoyingly rational part in his mind that told him that although Snape could be a really mean, blunt man sometimes, it really did seem like he was trying to be kind.

Looking over to the mirror, Harry jumped a little when he saw the face looking back at him. It was not his normal face… it was his real face. That face was what he really was. In that face there was Severus Snape, just as there was Lily Evans Snape. It became apparent to Harry then that no matter what he thought of the Potions Master, that man was always going to be his father now. Somehow Harry was convinced that no matter what he did, Snape would always come to his aide. It was actually a very comforting thought.

Sighing, realizing that perhaps he had over reacted too, the young Gryffindor got up and opened up his closet. He recalled yesterday that… his father, had wanted him to get dressed before coming to the table in the morning. It made sense really, and Harry had always done it previously before Snape stepped in, and the boy wondered why he hadn’t kept up with his usual habit lately.

Once dressed, again, in his school attire, Harry opened his door and walked down the hall to find his father once again at the stove cooking. But unlike the previous morning, Harry did not offer to help, nor did Severus act particularly inviting. Instead, the Potions Master went about his task in silence before he set Harry’s plate out before him with eggs, bacon, hash browns, and some toast, and to drink, milk and another nutrition potion.

Only when Severus sat down did Harry pick up his silverware and begin to eat as well. With guarded eyes, Harry tried to steal glances of his father, trying to determine the other man’s mood by watching him. It appeared that whatever his temper last night, the Potions Master looked worn and tired that morning, as though he had not gotten much sleep the previous night. Curious, the younger wizard decided to store that thought away for later use.

Breakfast was completed in relative silence with only the sound of the silverware clanking once and a while and cups being picked up and set down. Other than that, there really was not much noise. Neither Harry nor Severus particularly wanted conversation. But at last, the younger wizard could no longer stand it. “What are we going to do today?” he asked quietly.

There was a moments pause before the elder Snape finally answered. “I thought we might walk into town today,” he said softly. “Do some shopping.”

The thought of the infamous Potions Master shopping for practical items such as cleaning supplies and groceries seemed very strange to Harry and he had to stop himself form laughing. All he could really do was think of the black cloaked wizard walking down the aisles of a Muggle supermarket. It was quite humorous to the fourteen year old, but he kept it to himself.

“Alright,” Harry said instead. “When are we leaving?”

“After I clean off the table,” the older man said, before going back to his coffee. Harry could not really remember seeing the Potions Master drink coffee before this summer. Strange.

But true to his word, Severus cleared the dishes off the table and left them to soak in the sink while he grabbed a wallet, a strange thing to see Snape grab, and his wand, the elder wizard tucked away both before he nodded towards the door. Understanding that it was time to go, Harry obeyed easily. They two wizards went out into the morning to find it bright and cheery.

********

“Oh, now look at the pair of ya!” Mrs. Cadogan came out of nowhere. “You are both looking well this morning.”

“Mrs. Cadogan,” Severus bowed his head to the elder woman. Harry smiled at her warmly.

“And where do ya all think you’re going this fine morning?” she asked, her eyes twinkling merrily. “Out for a bit of a jaunt?”

“We were actually going to do a bit of shopping, to tell the truth,” Severus explained patiently. He had learned this from teaching many students and putting up with a crazy Headmaster for so long.

“Shopping?” the old woman exclaimed. “What, men? My dear Mr. Brandon, I’m no’ sure what people have told you, but the men do not do the shopping. That’s a woman’s job and delight.

“As there is not woman in my life and I do wish to eat, I suppose that duty falls to me now,” Severus tried to smile, but it came out as a frown.

The old woman instantly felt sorry for all her teasing. Even she could tell that there was something wrong with the wizard before her. It really was not all that hard to tell. “I’m sorry, my dear,” she said repentantly. “I had truly meant nothing by it.”

Cursing himself for letting on that he was feeling more towards the melancholy side, Severus snuck a look at Harry to find that the boy was also looking at him worriedly. It really surprised the professor to find his son, the boy that was supposed to still be, in every right, furious with him, looking up at him with pity in his green eyes. Merlin, but the boy was like Lily!

“I took no offense,” the older man bowed his head again, hoping to reassure the old woman.

“I am glad to hear it,” Mrs. Cadogan smiled. “But that puts me in mind… you are still relatively new here in this part of the country, why don’t you let me help you shop around? I could take you to the stores that are more reasonably priced, and not too expensive because they’re tourist traps.”

Not wanting the old woman to hang around, but also not wanting to get scammed on money, the professor just wanted to sigh, but did not. “Alright,” he answered.

“Excellent!” Mrs. Cadogan exclaimed merrily. “What store first? I know! How about-”

“We first need to go to a clothing store,” Severus cut in.

“A clothing store?” the Muggle looked up at the tall wizard for a moment in confusion. “Whatever for?”

Noticing once again that Harry was watching him again too, Severus instinctively stiffened. “My son’s grown too fast this summer. I need to get him a new wardrobe.”

Of all the things that his father could have said, that was one of the last things Harry would have ever thought of. Snape, his father, was going to buy him clothes? New clothes? Nice clothes? No one had ever done that for him, except himself. With the Dursleys he had only ever gotten Dudley’s hand-me-downs, but now Snape was going to let him get good, nice clothes? This was unreal.

But Harry’s awe and Severus’s distinct uncomfortableness escaped the old woman’s notice as she was just excited about the prospect of shopping. And before either of the men knew what was happening, Mrs. Cadogan took Severus’s arm and Harry’s hand and drug each one along to a shop.

While the old woman chattered happily, Severus and Harry at last locked eyes, and it was apparent to both that the other was sorry. Harry smiled at the Potions Master shyly, while the professor gave a jerky nod, one that Harry could tell was supposed to mean more, but the elder wizard was unsure as to how to show it.

In the clothes shop, Mrs. Cadogan practically made Harry play dress up, making him try on everything in sight. And even though Harry grumbled and even got scolded by the old woman, secretly he enjoyed the attention and the complements the Muggle was so comfortable throwing out. He even liked the clothes that he was trying on. It felt nice, and he did not feel so trashy anymore.

For his part, Severus thought he might go mad with waiting. He had never been one to like shopping for anything other than books and potion ingredients. He only really liked clothes shopping when they were either for him, or when he went with Lily and got to see her in all kinds of very pretty and, sometimes, revealing outfits. But that was another thought entirely.

By the end, all three were tired. It was then that Harry worried about the cost, but was slightly surprised when Severus bought just about everything Harry had tried on, with the exception of the items Harry had not liked, with hardly a blink of an eye. The young wizard had never once thought about his father’s financial standing much, but it, again, seemed clear that Severus Snape was not a poor man, no matter how cheap he could be at times.

Mrs. Cadogan left them before supper time, saying she had grandchildren coming at six, and left father and son on their own for dinner. Time had flown as the three of them had had their fun. It seemed almost impossible that a whole day had gone by without a hitch, but it appeared it had.

Going behind a store, Severus looked this way and that before pulling out his wand and shrinking the bags of Harry’s clothes. After putting them safely in his pockets, the elder wizard took Harry out to dinner, and later, ice cream.

When they got home at last, Severus un-shrank the clothes and set the bags down near Harry’s closet. “You really shouldn’t have gotten me all this,” Harry shifted a bit guiltily.

“Think of it as a late birthday gift,” the Potions Master said smoothly. “Besides, it is my duty as a father to provide a house, food, and clothes for my child. It really is the very least I can do, Harry.”

“It still cost a lot,” the boy smiled shyly at his father.

“Do not think of that,” the elder wizard nodded. “I am not as poor as people might think.”

Smiling fully, Harry looked about his room again, the room his father had given him. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “About last night, I mean.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Severus stared into his son’s eyes. “The fault was mine, and I am sorry too.”

The two wizard stood there for a moment before Harry laughed. “We’re really going to have to work on this, aren’t we?”

“Indeed we are,” Snape drawled. “Put your clothes away and then go to bed.”

“Alright,” Harry said, still chuckling. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Both went to bed distinctly happier than the night before.

*******

Hermione received a letter form Ron urging her to come stay with his family for a week or so, or as long as she wanted. The invitation was vague, not meeting the full approval of the clever little witch, but nevertheless, she was excited about it. She had dearly missed her friends from school, even if they had only been parted for about a month's time.

Shoving aside some of her school assignments that she was checking over, Hermione began to compose a message back for Ron. She accepted his invitation, as her parents had also approved of it as well, just perhaps not for the whole summer. But she was happy about it none the less. She longed to see the Weasleys again. She and Ginny had become fast friends.

But what really intrigued the little witch was the fact that Ron had mentioned his parents acting very strange. The account he gave he even admitted was not the full tale, but it was still interesting. Mrs. Weasley coming home crying and Mr. Weasley deathly pale worried Hermione and she hoped that nothing terribly wrong had happened. And the fact that Mr. Weasley had asked Ron to invite her over especially was even more interesting.

Ron said that it had to be some big conspiracy of some sort, but from what was said, Hermione was not so sure. All she wished for was that Harry would also be able to come, get away from his terrible relatives, and then the three of them could solve this new puzzle. She really was concerned about the Weasley parents.

After writing her response, Hermione sent the letter back with Ron’s owl, Pig, and then when back to organizing her desk. Her mind was racing with the possible reasons for the Weasleys’ odd behavior. It was actually enough to take her focus off of her schoolwork.

Hermione thought through just about every possibility that she could, remembering that Ron had said his parents had gotten back from some sort of meeting. Ron had said that his parents acted as though someone had died. Maybe someone had, one of their old friends, perhaps? It would not be so farfetched, especially since You-Know-Who’s agents were becoming more active.

Whatever the case, Hermione was just glad of an excuse to travel somewhere, even if it was just the Borrow and she could not wait to see her friends. I wonder what Harry will make of this? she thought as she began stacking up more books.

It never occurred to the young witch that Ron’s parents’ distress was because of Harry. It was not even a shadow of a thought that it might be Harry that was the one that had been killed in this silent war.

1994

The Burrow

When Hermione got to the Weasley’s house several days later, she had a very bad feeling. Before she had left, she had glanced at her father’s newspaper rack, and right before she went through the floo, she thought she had seen a title about a house burning. She hoped that that had nothing to do with the fact that Ron’s parents were so distressed. Maybe it was linked with a Death Eater attack? Hopefully not. 

When she stepped out of the fireplace, however, Hermione knew something must have gone terribly wrong. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were not there to greet her, and there was only Ron and Ginny. “Hey, ‘Mione,” Ron greeted her with a sad kind of smile. “You okay?”

Whipping the soot off herself from the floo, Hermione looked up into the warn faces of her friends. “I was going to ask you two the same thing. You both look…unwell.”

“We’re alright,” Ginny reassured the older girl. “It’s just…”

“Mum’s been in a right fit ever since I wrote you last week!” Ron went on. “They wouldn’t say anything about what was wrong until you got here.”

“What about Harry?” Hermione asked. “Where is he?”

Here, the redheads looked worried. “My letter to him was sent back unopened. It’s really weird,” Ron replied.

Paling at the news, Hermione thought back to the paper her father had saved. Why had she neglected to read about Muggle news these past few weeks? “Do you think…” she started, but stopped again. “Do you think that all this has something to do with Harry?”

The Weasley siblings looked over at each other uneasily again. “We were really hoping you wouldn’t think that too, Hermione,” Ginny admitted. “We’re not really sure what all this is about.”

Nodding to herself, Hermione began lifting her bags, and with Ron and Ginny’s help, they managed to get the guest situated. While Hermione unpacked with Ginny’s help, Ron left to go alert the twins of Hermione’s arrival. And once all this was done, the girls met back up with Ron in the kitchen where he had made them each some hot chocolate.

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled up at him. She tasted it. “This is really good.”

“Thanks,” Ron gave a half-hearted smile.

The three friends sat together in the kitchen, quietly talking about this and that. Hermione talked about her parents and the week they had taken off to spend time with her that summer. Ron and Ginny spoke of all the trouble the twins had gotten into before their parents distress, and how insufferable Percy had been. Things started to lighten up, and they were beginning to smile easy and chuckle, when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came in with the twins and Percy in tow.

Mrs. Weasley’s eyes were red-rimmed and her hair, which was normally a tame poof, was rather wild, and she looked thinner. Mr. Weasley looked pale and worn, like he had been worked far too hard. When his other three children were seated, the Weasley patriarch cleared his throat.

“Hello, Hermione,” he greeted with a forced smile. “So good to see you again. I’m glad you could come.”

“Thank you, Mr. Weasley,” Hermione smiled warmly, hoping that would calm the man’s nerves a bit. “And thank you for having me.”

“Not at all, not at all,” he waved off her thanks easily. “But I know that you are all wondering about the meeting your mum and I had the other day.”

All the Weasley children were surprisingly silent as they waited for their father to continue. All the children had been on their best behavior since their parents came home with some dreadful news. The twins had stopped their pranking, Percy actually came out of his room to be with his family, Ron had made sure to clean up all of his mess, and Ginny had been helping her mother any way she could. It had been an odd week, a dreadful, fearful week, and they had all desperately wanted to know what it was their parents were keeping from them. But now that it was time to know, none of the children were sure they wanted to.

“We were informed the other day,” Arthur began. Beside him, Molly sobbed. “That there had been a fire…a Death Eater attack on Harry Potter’s house.”

Hermione inhaled a quick breath. Dear Merlin she knew it! Why hadn’t she read the Muggle newspapers? Why had she ever subscribed to the Daily Prophet? Why had she let that take priority over Muggle news? Harry was probably in the hospital recovering from some terrible injury right now! It was all so terrible!

“Is he okay? He wasn’t hurt too bad, was he?” Ron stood up, panic ringing in his voice.

Arthur seemed to pale several more shades until he was bone white. Molly’s sobbing increased until she almost wailed. “No, Ron, no he’s not,” Mr. Weasley could not look at his children. “Everyone…Harry Potter is…is dead.”

The room was silent. Six pairs of eyes widened in horror as the news hit each of them like a blow to the chest. It could not be; Harry Potter could not be dead! He simply could not be! Hermione and Ginny burst into tears while the Weasley boys had a hard time fighting their own tears off.

It was a miserable day in the Burrow that day, and for many more days to come.

*****

Llanfair 

Meanwhile, a week after their initial fight, Harry and Severus got along remarkably well… for them. Harry past rather pleasant days in Llanfair. It seemed odd that he should be finding it pleasant living with Snape, but the Potions Master was nothing like the Dursleys, and for that, Harry was thankful.

But Harry’s life was not all leisure and lying about. While Severus let Harry have a remarkable amount of free time, he also had his son doing chores and studying. Harry helped weed the garden outside, helped with the dishes, set the table, helped clear the table, kept his room clean, and even helped with laundry. Although they were chores he had done at the Dursleys, Harry did not mind doing them here as Snape surprised him by doing his share of the work as well.

Along with his chores, Harry was made to study at least an hour a day out of his school text. At first the young Gryffindor thought that it would be easy, that he could just sit there for an hour with his books open, but soon learned that that was not the case. After staring into space for about an hour, thinking of Quidditch, he had tried to pack up his things and go about his business when Snape stopped him. It appeared the Potions Master had been watching his offspring closer than Harry thought, and demanded that his son sit for another hour and actually study his work.

Harry had griped and complained, muttering about the unfairness of it all, but as usual, Snape did not seem too concerned with the boy’s complaining. “No short cuts in this house, Potter,” Severus had smiled evilly.

It was then that Harry began to learn the disadvantages of having a professor as a father. But despite his whining, deep down, Harry knew he would not trade his father for the world. He had finally gotten a father; after all these years he finally had someone, someone that cared about him, someone that cared about how well he did physically and academically. It was then that Harry knew what Ron felt like when his parents weren’t pleased with his homework. But unlike Ron, Harry had to grin.

It was the start of a new week, and Harry was washing dishes while his father was drying and putting them away, when he thought of his friends again. “Hey, uh, sir?” he looked over at the grown wizard.

“Yes, Harry?” Snape was not even looking at the boy as he began placing the plates in the cabinet.

“I was wondering if I could write to Ron and Hermione…You know, just to catch up,” Harry shrugged.

Stopping what he was doing, Severus turned and looked at his son. Ever since their first explosive argument, the Potions Master had been extremely careful to take Harry’s feelings into account in every situation since. It was hard for Severus not to come off as offensive. He had trained himself to be standoffish, not wanting to let anyone close to him. It had been part of his job, but now that he had a son, the boy he had trained himself to hate the most, Severus was having a hard time letting go of his past schooling. He was really trying to be more open, but sometimes Harry just made him want to scream. How was this boy his again?

“Harry,” Severus said slowly. “I know that you miss your friends and that you want to hear from them, but have you forgotten that you and I are wanted? That we are running from not only Death Eaters, but from Dumbledore and his Order members too?”

Looking at his father with those large green eyes, Harry seemed like a much younger child. Severus immediately realized that the boy was trying to apply the puppy-dog eyes on him. “But, sir,” the boy pleaded, “I haven’t heard from them since my birthday. And I didn’t even get to reply to their letters!”

Trying to remain level headed, Severus was desperate to ignore the beseeching look in the green eyes he loved so much.  “Harry, what makes you think you can write them letter? I essentially kidnapped you and Dumbledore, not to mention Death Eaters, are looking for you. What makes you think that they cannot trace you back here after your letters are delivered?” The green eyes dropped. “It’s too risky, Harry.”

“But aren’t there spells to cancel tracking spells? Make it so that they can’t find me?” Harry asked, his eyes shining once more with hope.

Of all the qualities Harry possessed, it was his eyes that Severus both blessed and cursed. They were Lily’s eyes, of that, there was no doubt, but oh how he wished he did not see his sweet Lily’s face shining out of those eyes. She could always get him to do anything for her, and it seemed Harry was having similar luck.

“No,” Severus shook his head, standing his ground. Harry looked offended. “I am sorry, Harry, but it simply is too risky. You don’t want them to find you, do you? You don’t want them to take you away from me…do you?”

It was then that Harry realized how selfish he was being. Although he was frustrated with the fact that his father would not let him write to his friends, he did see the logic and reason behind the older wizard’s decision. What would happen to the two of them if they were caught? The Death Eaters would capture them and torture them until they died, and if Dumbledore found them, he’d probably erase their memories again and separate them.

Bowing his head in defeat, Harry sighed. “No…I don’t want them to take me away. I…I want to stay here.”

Severus let out a silent breath. For just a moment, he had been afraid that Harry no longer wanted to stay with him. The Potions Master knew that he was rather strict at times, but he did not think he was unreasonable. He was only giving Harry rules similar to those that he gave his Slytherins. Really, Severus was relieved that his son was finding his stay here pleasant. He had no real experience with children, having never been particularly close to any, with the exception of Draco. Being a spy, even after the Dark Lord’s fall, left Severus hurting socially…like always.

Nodding, the professor resumed his work of drying dishes. He did not know what else to say. The matter was closed as far as he was concerned. Harry saw his error and accepted Severus’s judgment. That was good, wasn’t it? That was trust, wasn’t it? Merlin Severus wished he was more socially in tune with others.

Father and son spent a few moments in silence as they continued their work, when Harry could not stand it. “Do you think that we could go for a walk around town today?” he asked.

Severus was drying a bowl, staring at it to make sure he did not miss any part, before he nodded. “I don’t see why not.” He stretched his long arm out to place the bowl on the high shelf.

“I mean, you know, just the two of us today?” Harry asked, staring hard at the plate he was scrubbing. He felt his father’s eyes on him, but he did not look up. He suddenly felt embarrassed for even asking such a stupid thing. What did Snape think of him, always blushing and stuttering? The Potions Master probably rued having such a stupid son.

If Harry had looked over at his father, he would have seen the slight smile that suddenly formed on the older wizard’s face. Severus felt his heart lift and his body relax. Harry, his son, wanted to spend time alone with his father outside of their home? Without Mrs. Cadogan following them about? His son wanted time together. His son wanted him.

“Of course we can,” Severus nodded, going back to work, he was unable to wipe the shy smile off his face.

Together, the two wizards finished the dishes before they went out for the afternoon. Harry enjoyed showing off his new clothes to the little town, even though there were not that many people. He wore some of his new blue jeans, some that actually fit his frame, and a nice, collared green shirt that matched his eyes perfectly- that’s what Mrs. Cadogan had said, and Severus had agreed. Harry found his hair much more manageable now, and brushed it through. It was straight and silky, brushed back. But it was getting long, and there were some strands that fell in his eyes.

As they walked in the open, sunny air, Harry felt proud to be at his father’s side. While Harry looked like the typical teenage boy, he thought his father looked far superior to everyone that they passed. Snape always walked with a straight back and square shoulders, and with his tall, lean frame, the professor simply looked lordly. Severus wore long, black trousers that hid his tall black, leather boots, and wore a dark, forest green shirt. And for once, wore his hair tied back.

The two Snapes walked about the little village calmly with no real objective in mind. The town was quiet that day, no tour coaches coming through, and the locals had all pretty much gotten used to seeing the two “English” around. It still amazed Harry that there was still a rivalry between the English and Welsh even after all these years. But then again, his father and James and Sirius had never really gotten over their grudges either.

The two wizards stopped at the ice cream shop and Severus bought Harry his favorite chocolate ice cream. As Harry was eating it, he looked around the little tourist trap and marveled at all the carved wooden spoons. As Severus was paying, an old man came up to Harry. “Eye’n them spoons, are ya lad?” he asked kindly.

Trying to be polite, Harry nodded, while trying not to let his ice cream drip on his hands. “Yeah. What are they for? Just decoration?”

“For most, nowadays,” the old man nodded. “They’re Welsh Love Spoons,” he explained. “Use to, when folks was poorer, and da’s was more protective of their daughters, shepherd boys would fall in love with a girl, but had no money for a ring, nor did he want the lass’s da’ to find out ‘bout their romance, so he’d carve her a spoon, promising his love to her.”

Looking back over at all the spoons that hung on the wall, next to the postcards, Harry smiled. “Were all these handmade too? Like back in the old days?”

“Sure are, lad,” the old man grinned. “I made a few of them meself,” he said proudly. “Look there’s one I carved, and there’s one too.”

By that time, Severus was by his son. He had heard the old man’s tale and the whole conversation. He was slightly amused that the old Welshman was so eager to tell tales of old, while at the same time was just as amused with Harry’s wide eyed curiosity. He looked so much like Lily when he was excited or curious.

“Are you ready to go?” Severus asked his son softly.

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry shrugged, still staring at the spoons. “Goodbye sir,” he smiled at the old man.

That night, Severus caught sight of the date, and cursed himself viciously. He had had such a good day with Harry, and he had been so focused on not ruining anything, that he had forgotten that tonight was the night Albus had wanted to call a meeting for the Order members. Knowing he was expected to attend, the Potions Master knew he had to go, lest he bring suspicion upon himself. Although he did not want to, he picked up the telephone, a machine he had not used in years, and dialed Mrs. Cadogan.

Later, he changed into his normal, wizarding clothes, before casting a glamours charm over them to make them appear to be his same, Muggle clothes. “Harry?” he called.

Sitting on the couch, reading a book, Harry popped his head up to look at his father. He frowned. “Are you going somewhere?” he asked.

“Yes,” the older wizard nodded. “I am to attend an Order meeting tonight. I admit I had forgotten about it until now.”

“Oh,” Harry said, still frowning. “When will you be back?”

Severus’s mouth set into a frown similar to his son’s. “I do not know the exact time, but I should think in two or three hours.”

“Okay,” Harry shrugged, turning back to his book.

Raising an eyebrow at the offhanded behavior, Severus held his tongue for the moment in pursue of grabbing floo powder from off the mantel. “Mrs. Cadogan will be here in a minute or two, so don’t give her any trouble.”

“You called me a babysitter?” Harry looked disgusted. “I’m not two, you know. I can stay by myself for a few hours.”

His old scowl back in place, Severus glared at his son hard. “Not when you’re hiding from the entire Wizarding world, you’re not. I’m not risking another Death Eater raid here. Mrs. Cadogan will be here shortly to watch you.”

“But I don’t need a babysitter,” Harry argued. At that moment, Mrs. Cadogan walked in.

Not noticing, Severus continued to scowl at his son. He stalked forward and leaned forward threateningly. “You will be watched by Mrs. Cadogan and you will not give her any trouble, do you understand me? I want no more of your whining. This is for your own good.”

When Severus straightened up, he was noticed the tiny elderly Muggle woman standing in the doorway. Merlin, why did she always come in at the worse possible times? “Mrs. Cadogan,” he began, feeling extremely awkward.

“Mr. Brandon,” she smiled cheerily at him. “Having a bit of trouble, are we?”

“I was just telling Peter that-”

“Oh, no worries,” the old woman waved of Severus’s embarrassment. “I’ve had children of my own. I know how they act. Now, you better get going before you’re late.” And before he knew it, Severus was pushed out of the house. “You won’t be out too late, I hope?” the old woman looked Severus up and down. “A strappin’ young man like yourself, I hope do stay out too late with any young ladies.”

Severus actually blushed at the old woman’s words. In the background, he thought he heard Harry snickering. “Certainly not,” he did his best to look affronted. “I should be back in two to three hours. Peter knows how to get a hold of me if needed.”

Smiling, the Muggle nodded. “Very good then. I will see you soon, Mr. Brandon.”

Nodding, Severus began to walk away. He walked into the woods before he apparated away.

Once Severus was gone, Mrs. Cadogan turned to Harry with a smile. Harry raised an eyebrow at the old woman’s glee, but he watched her as she came in and sat down across from him. “Now that he’s gone,” the old woman grinned. “How about we play some poker?”

Harry smiled. Maybe being watched by Mrs. Cadogan was not such a bad thing after all?

*****

While Harry was playing cards with Mrs. Cadogan, Severus apparated to Scotland, where then he apparated to an old house that the Order members used to floo and flooed to number twelve Grimmauld Place. Stepping out of the dirty fireplace, Severus was exhausted. Apparation took quite a bit of magic when traveling long distances- and he had gone from Wales to Scotland just to get back to London! But he could not afford to get caught, so the draining affects were worth it he supposed.

Severus dusted himself off and removed the glamours from his clothes so that he was once again wearing his normal black robes and black cloak. He missed wearing his normal, comfortable outfits. He wore his “Potions Master’s” outfits so often for class he almost did not own anything else. But coming out of his thoughts, he saw the light coming from the kitchen, and walked towards it with purpose, keeping his face composed.

When he entered into the rather spacious kitchen, he could see that it was rather full. There, around that table, sat Albus, Minerva, and Filius, and next to them were Black, Lupin, Arthur, and Molly, and the Aurors, Tonks and Shaklebolt. When the group saw him, immediately Black sent him the most vicious glare that Severus could ever remember receiving from the mongrel. But he ignored it with a condescending air, and sat down to the right of the Headmaster.

“Severus,” Dumbledore nodded. “I was beginning to think you had forgotten.”

“I am not late,” the Potions Master said tightly. He was several minutes early, in fact. If no one else had anything better to do then to come early then that was their problem.

“No, I suppose you aren’t,” Albus tried to smile, but failed miserably. “How have you been? You went to Scotland to hide, did you not?”

“I did,” Snape nodded calmly, but he noticed the tension in the room and the stricken faces of some of the members. Something had happened, and he could sense the hostility around him. “I have been moving around,” he continued to ignore Black and several of the other member’s suspicious gazes.

The Headmaster nodded. “Good, good. Have you had much news of the south?” he asked.

“Not much, sir,” Severus lied. He knew Albus was referring the Dursleys house burning. But what the Potions Master did not know was that the old wizard had gone to the house with Harry and had promised to check up on the boy. Severus did not know that Dumbledore knew Harry was not with the Dursley family.

Here, the Slytherin heard Molly Weasley let out a quiet sob. What were they all on about that made them so…emotional? They all looked to be in some state of misery while Black looked like he was about to murder someone. “Something important has happened?” he felt obligated to ask.

“Where’s Harry?!” Black slammed his fist onto the table as he stood up, glaring dagger down at Severus.

Taken back by the question that bordered on accusation, Severus blinked several times, wondering how on earth they had figured it out. He had been so careful! He had made sure no traces of Harry were left behind! He had known the Dursleys were gone. He had thought that they would all assume that Harry had gone with his family. Where had he gone wrong?

“Sirius,” Dumbledore admonished. “Sit down,” the Headmaster commanded, none too gently. “You must forgive him, Severus. He is grieving.”

Slowly, Severus nodded, but then glared fiercely back at Black. “Is there something I should know?”

“Yes, indeed my boy, there is,” Albus sighed sadly, looking down at his hands. “I appears you were right, and I was wrong.”

Again, taken back by the unexpected compliment, if a compliment it really was, Severus waited for the Headmaster to continue while trying to keep his own emotions undercover. While the old man was apparently gathering his thoughts, Severus took the time to look around to study the others closer. They all looked terrible, and it was then that Severus began to understand what this was all about.

“Severus, you were right. I should not have taken Harry back to his relatives,” Albus admitted. “That night he was back, Death Eaters came and burned down the house. Harry Potter is dead.”

The surprise on Snape’s face was genuine. He did not know what to make of all of this. They all thought that Harry was dead? His first instinct was to laugh and the second was to tell them that Harry was most certainly not dead, but he bit down both. They would not help him in the least. The third thing that ran through his mind was that this was absolutely perfect for him and Harry. If they all thought the boy was dead, they would leave them alone for the rest of the summer. And then all Severus would have to do was make up a story for Harry to tell when it came time for school and he dropped the boy off at the station.

He must have been so focused on his plan, because the Headmaster touched his shoulder, startling him from his thoughts. “Severus?” Albus asked. “Are you alright?”

Knowing his part, the Potions Master scowled blackly at the old man, just as he had wanted to from the beginning. He conjured up all of his blocked anger towards the Headmaster and used it to his advantage. He looked positively terrifying to the group before him, and he knew it by their faces. “Fool!” he spat, standing from the table, his robes fluttering around him gracefully. “I told you not to send him back there! I told you it would be unsafe! But you never listen to me!”

The others were quite surprised that the Potions Master was speaking to Albus Dumbledore in such a manner, but they were even more shocked that the Headmaster allowed it. “Severus…” the old man looked at the younger wizard pleadingly.

There was only a small part of Severus that wanted to feel something for the old man, but it was not strong enough to make him show anything but contempt. “Now what will we do?” he hissed before peering around the table, distributing some of the fault. “You all had us place our trust in that boy and now he’s dead! What will we do now? The Dark Lord’s minions are rising. They believe they are getting close to a solution! What if they find a way to raise him?”

“Severus, please sit down,” Dumbledore asked tiredly.

“You seem to know an awful lot, Snape,” Sirius growled. “Why’s that?”

“Because I’ve been a spy for over fifteen years, you dolt!” Snape snapped.

“Boys!” the Headmaster tried to calm them. 

“No!” Sirius growled. “Can’t any of you see he’s a traitor? He knows something. What do you know, you coward?”

Severus was not sure what infuriated him more, Black leaning into his face or actually guessing that the Potions Master was hiding something. “Black!” he roared in anger, one of the few times he had lost his temper bad enough to shout. “How dare you call me a traitor! How dare you call me a coward! I’ve been risking my life again and again, bending over backwards to protect Potter’s miserable life, and you have the audacity to call me a coward? What have you been doing the past twelve years besides hiding in the shadows and rotting in Azkaban?”

Before anyone could have stopped him, Sirius was across the table and flying at Severus. The others stood, but they were not quick enough to stop what was happening. But that did not matter. Snape had braced himself for some sort of retaliation and was able to flip Black over onto his back on the floor. But Sirius was nothing if not determined, and grabbed Severus’s ankles and yanked him onto the floor.

The Potions Master went down, but he managed to fall so that he landed onto Sirius, his elbow jabbing into the Gryffindor’s ribs. Sirius gasped in pain, but by then Severus was able to get out of his hold and stood up again. The others were all gathered around them, their eyes filled with amazement.

Severus had the nastiest temptation to kick Black while he was lying there panting, but he figured that that would not help anyone but himself. The urge was strong though…but he opted to straighten his cloak and fix his hair before sneering down at his rival. “Idiotic mutt!” he hissed. “And what did that accomplish? Nothing! You’re a fool, Black, and brainless fool!”

Turning on his heels, Severus strode to the fireplace and threw in some powder. “Severus, please!” he heard the Headmaster call, but he paid him no head as he flooed back to Scotland.

*****

When Severus arrived only an hour after he had left, both Harry and Mrs. Cadogan looked up surprised. “Christopher, my boy, what are you doing back so early?” she asked, a little disappointed.

Severus threw her a weathered glare as he stalked passed them. “I’m going to change,” he announced as he left the room. He was exhausted.

Harry and the old woman exchanged glances. “Doesn’t look as though things went well,” she whispered to the boy.

“Nope,” Harry looked down the hall his father had gone.

“Well then, I think it’s time for me to get going.” She stood up and packed up her cards.

“Coward,” Harry accused her playfully.

The old woman smiled at him. “No’a coward boy, I just watch the weather,” she winked at him. “Nos da, Peter,” she patted him on the shoulder.

“Night, Mrs. Cadogan,” Harry helped her to the door.

A few minutes later, Severus reappeared wearing his favorite black slacks and a simply black t-shirt. Curious, despite his father’s terrible mood, Harry frowned at his father. “What’s that on your arm?” he asked.

Scowling down at his forearm where there was a rather nasty looking bruise forming, Snape snorted. “That would be from the meeting,” he growled. Harry watched his father pensively as he got a drink of water.

“What’s the news? Has anything interesting happened?” the boy asked.

 When the Potions Master turned around, he had a rather frightening looking smile on his lips, one that Harry had learned as a student did not bode well. The black eyes of the Slytherin met his sons, and silkily, Severus replied, “Yes, as a matter of fact there is.” Harry waited for his father to continue. “Apparently,” Snape drawled, “you’re dead.”

Harry blanched.

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.”

August 31, 1994 

Harry paced around his room anxiously. The rest of his summer had consisted of reading his school books, writing- and rewriting- his essays until they were Snape perfect, and helping with potions- which he had found surprisingly interesting, keeping Mrs. Cadogan company and wondering what his friends were thinking. Although his father had said that they would try to think of a way to reveal Harry to Ron and Hermione, every time they did think of one thing, the Potions Master immediately discarded plot after plot saying that each plan was much too dangerous or too ill thought through. It was the first time Harry could ever remember his professor looking so…uncertain.

Sighing overdramatically, Harry plopped down on his bed and closed his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be packing?”

The quiet question startled the boy so bad that he nearly jumped off his bed. After he calmed his racing heart a moment, he spun around to see a smirking Severus Snape leaning in the doorframe. “Don’t do that!” Harry glared at the older man viciously. “You’ll give me a heart-attack.”

“Old habits,” Severus did not apologize. “Have you finished packing up your belongings?” he asked, coming in to sit next to his son.

Harry continued to glare at the other wizard. “Seriously, you scared the wits out of me,” he went on, ignoring the question in pursuit of being annoying. It was fun sometimes, and he thought his father deserved it in this case.

“My one passion in life: to scare children,” Severus said drawly, rolling his eyes. “But I did ask a question,” he fixed his son a hard stare. He refused to repeat himself and have the boy win out in this.

Knowing when the battle was lost, the younger Snape sighed again. “Yeah, I’ve just about got everything.”

“‘Just about’?” Severus frowned, raising an ominous eyebrow.

“Yeah, well, I still need some of my clothes out, you know,” Harry looked over at his trunk that was still open with clothes sticking out here and there, and books thrown in carelessly. He winced as he looked at it.

“Do you?” Severus, again, quirked an eyebrow at this. Harry was starting to get annoyed himself now.

“Yes!” Harry shot back defensively and embarrassedly. It was only after his outburst and seeing his father smirk again did Harry realize that the Potions Master had actually been teasing him. “Oh,” he said quietly.

Unable to get the grin off his face, Severus had to look forward lest he laugh in the boy’s face. Harry was far too easy to get riled up…But then, he had not been too much better than the boy at this particular age. He had let James Potter and Black get him so mad he couldn’t see straight. But that had been in another time and another place. If there was one thing Severus was glad of, it was that his son was not experiencing the same difficulties with peers that he himself had had as a boy. There was Draco Malfoy, but that was different…

“Very well,” Severus nodded, the barest hint of a smirk still lingering on his lips. “But you had better be all packed up for tomorrow. I plan on waking you up early. And I will not wait around for you to finish your packing.”

“Are you all packed?” Harry asked moodily.

Of all the times when he found out that he had a son, why did it have to be when the boy was in his puberty stages? Severus thought he would have liked to have had the option of getting Harry when he was about eighteen or older. Preferably older. But no, he had to get a child that was just barely fourteen and full of attitude and sarcasm…well, actually Harry was not all that sarcastic, compared to what his father actually was. Thank Merlin for that! Severus nearly groaned at the thought of having to raise a boy that had been as mouthy as he had been.

“As a matter of fact, I am all packed,” Severus merely nodded, not wanting his son to know how much his attitude was wearing down his nerves. If one kept calm in front of students and did not let on emotions, then the annoying little buggers had nothing to feed on and would give in easier. “But there are a few things I think we need to go over before tomorrow actually comes.”

Here, Harry straightened up and looked into his father’s face. Severus had gotten use to people not being able to look him in the eyes. There were only a hand full that he could remember ever looking at him straight in the eyes, and those were his parents, the Dark Lord, Dumbledore, and Lily. The only one he had ever liked to look at him had been Lily, but he had had to put up with the others as well.

“Do you know your story?” Severus asked as though he was some sort of military officer. “What will you tell your friends? What will you tell Dumbledore?”

“That after Dumbledore dropped me back at the house this summer, after I had gone with you, I decided that since my family was leaving, and I was alone, I’d run away,” Harry recited faithfully.

“And?” his father frowned, his eyebrow raised. Severus wanted Harry to be believable. He planned to be present when Dumbledore interrogated his son, but he still wanted Harry to be able to hold his own against that Headmaster.

“And when I was running away, I realized that I didn’t really know where to go. When I got into to town I was picked up by some officers that took me to an orphanage where I stayed the rest of the summer before I was able to get out and come to the train station.”

“And how did your trunk get so small? You aren’t allowed to use magic,” Severus said the obvious.

“There was a shrinking potion in with the other ones that the Headmaster gave to me. I didn’t think that it was against the rules since the potion was already made, and I was desperate,” Harry came back.

“How were you able to find a way to the station? It is too far to walk.”

“When I went into the streets, I got a taxi cab,” Harry smiled at the other man arrogantly.

“Saved it up,” Harry grinned at his father.

Nodding, Severus looked at his son. “I think,” he said slowly, “that we might be able to pull this off with the Headmaster. Just as long as I’m in the room as well. You’re on your own with your friends. But keep your story straight,” Severus warned. “No adding in or leaving anything out. Say it exactly as we have rehearsed. There is no room for mistakes here, Harry.”

“I understand,” the boy nodded.

“Do you?” the older wizard frowned. “I mean it, Harry. You’re walking on the edge of a knife. One mistake and there will be no going back. Once it’s done, it’s done. And I prefer to remember you, Harry,” the Potions Master hoped the seriousness of the situation was enough to encourage his son to be careful.  He never quite knew when the Gryffindor impulsiveness would strike, though Harry had been surprisingly well behaved this summer.

“I know,” Harry looked grimmer.

Satisfied that the boy wasn’t going to do anything too stupid, Severus nodded again. “Very well,” he relented. “Come now, it’s time for you to read.”

Hopping off the bed, Harry followed his father out of his room and into the parlor, where he sat down and grabbed a book that his father had let him borrow. It was quite good actually. It was a story about a young wizard that ran off into the wilds and had many adventures. At first, Harry had thought that it was some sort of teenage novel, and he could not believe that his father would read, let alone own, such a thing. But after the first chapter, it became apparent that that was not a teenager’s book since the author, a Miss Marie Schneider, did not skip the gruesome details, or shy away from the dark magic used. It was really a good grim, German tale. It actually reminded Harry of Edger Allen Poe, which Snape had made him read a while ago.

Severus, on the other hand, did not read his usually tome, but went looking through what Harry recognized as Lily’s diary. Why his father would be looking through that, he did not know, but Harry found that he was a little more than annoyed that his father would keep his mother’s diary. After all, the boy would have liked to have read what his own mother had been like and how she had felt. Harry always liked anything dealing with his parents.

“Why are you looking at mum’s diary?” Harry asked finally. He was just so curious. Maybe if Snape finished, he’d let Harry read?

“To make sure I get the spell right,” came the blunt answer. But Harry did not know what his father was talking about.

“Spell? What spell?” the fifteen-year-old asked interestedly, sitting up straighter.

When he looked at his father again, Harry beheld that the Potions Master with a raised eyebrow, and a look that clearly said he was trying to hold in some sort of sarcastic comment, though the boy did not know why. “The spell that will let you resume your masquerade as a Potter,” Snape said rather brusquely, though he scowled at the name “Potter” again. Like he usually did.

Taken by surprise, Harry tried to regain his composure. “Oh,” he said sadly. He had not given thought of changing his appearance back into what it had been before. Actually, Harry had become quite taken with his new face and he surprised himself by being loathed to hide it once again.

“I’ll have to prepare for this spell, but it should not take more than a few more minutes,” Severus’s voice was dull, emotionless, and Harry began to suspect that that was how his father dealt with unpleasant things; by trying to seem indifferent.

It was odd that Harry felt relief at being able to say goodbye to his face for just a few more minutes. But just then, there was a knock on the door. Severus stood up and walked to the door, his wand up his left sleeve, like always. The Potions Master was paranoid, Harry was convinced, but as long as it kept him safe, he supposed he couldn’t fault the older man. Despite how crazy he thought it was, Harry found himself tense and readying himself just in case something were to happen.

When the door opened it did not reveal a Death Eater, the Dark Lord, or the Headmaster, but the small Mrs. Cadogan. “Ack!” the old woman exclaimed. “This be the last time I’ll get ta see you!” she cried and rushed into the house.

Harry had to smile as he stood up to greet the old Welsh woman. He had forgotten that he would have to say goodbye to the Muggle. He was actually not so sure he wanted to say goodbye. He was sure he would miss her and he was sure that his father would too, even though he could tell the old woman could get on the Potions Master’s nerves. But she really wasn’t all that different from the Headmaster…in that case, anyway.

The old woman threw her arms around Harry and held him close. “Oh, Peter!” she exclaimed. “I’m goin’ta miss you, lad!” she cried. “You and your daddy both!”

Smiling, Harry hugged Mrs. Cadogan back, while trying to keep his balance. “I’ll miss you too ma’am.” And he meant it too.

 “Ack! You’re such a sweet boy!” she cried again. “What am I goin’ta do without you?”

“Well…hey wait! I thought you had grandchildren?” Harry frowned down at the old woman who still clinging to him.

“Well, they live in the north in Scotland and aren’t here, so they don’t count right now!” she cried, hugging Harry closer, as though he really was one of her own.

As he watched silently close by the door, Severus was torn between smiling and rolling his eyes. Although he liked Mrs. Cadogan, sometimes she was a bit…eccentric. And loud. And although she could annoy the hell out of Severus, the wizard had to admit, at least to himself, that he liked the old Welsh woman. She had been so kind to Harry and him just as she had been kind to he and Lily years ago now. He still had to wonder how the old woman remembered him after all this time. Mrs. Cadogan had been a Godsend; truly.

“As much as I’m sure my son will miss you, Mrs. Cadogan, I am quite certain he is also missing breathing,” the professor rolled his eyes, not wanting anyone to realize how amused he really was with the situation.

The old Welsh woman let go of Harry with a slight flush to her cheeks. “Ack, well, don’t you get a sharp a tongue as your da, young man,” she ignored the Potions Master in favor of lecturing the boy before her.

Unable to stop from grinning, Harry nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” he said seriously, causing his father to scowl. "I won't."

“You’re a good boy,” Mrs. Cadogan winked at Harry before patting his cheek. “Now, you come here, you ornery man,” she ordered Severus sternly.

Rolling his eyes, Severus walked back into the sitting room to where his son and his land lady stood. But before he could have done anything, Mrs. Cadogan threw her arms around Severus as well. He stiffened in surprise, unable to really think of how to get the woman off of him. Harry’s smug smile did not help the older wizard’s temper or embarrassment either. “Please,” he hissed a rebuke.

Laughing, the old woman let her hold of the man go. “Very well, very well,” she continued to laugh. “But you really should start to eat more. I think that that boy over there is thicker than you,” she looked him up and down critically.

At this, Harry started to snicker. He was nowhere near being as tall or as “thick” as his father, but it was amusing, and even somewhat flattering, to be compared to his father’s stature. All his life, Harry had hated being referred to as the “scrawny” kid, the one that would get blown away by a strong wind. It actually gave him confidence to think that he might someday actually look like his father…at least in stature, he told himself.

“I do not need to get thicker,” Severus growled down at the old woman. He did not like it when people called him thin. He had always been too thin in his youth, and he did not want to be reminded of his past poverty.

“So you say,” Mrs. Cadogan gave the man a doubtful look. “Now,” she went on, “don’t wait another fourteen years before you come back, dear,” she smiled at Severus. “Come next summer, if you can. I would be more than delighted with you staying here again.”

“Thank you,” Severus nodded gratefully. “That is very kind of you.”

“Not kind, rather selfish, actually,” Mrs. Cadogan grinned. “I want the company again next year,” she winked.

Nodding again, Severus softened his features, though he could not really bring himself to smile. “Then perhaps we can manage another stay. If schedule allows, of course.”

“Yes, yes, if schedule allows,” she did not seem disappointed in the least, as she seemed sure that they would be back. “Da boch chi then, my dears,” Mrs. Cadogan smiled kindly before she went to leave. She was not one for long goodbyes, and now that she had said her farewells to the Brandon family, she felt she could leave and left with the hope that she might see the men again next summer.

“Bye, Mrs. Cadogan!” Harry ran after her, and onto the stoop. “Thanks for everything!” But as he looked around, the old woman disappeared in the woods, going back to her house on the other side.

Once back inside, Harry looked over to his father to see the Potions Master studying him. “What?” the boy asked.

Severus shook his head, but motioned for his son to sit down on the couch. He did not want to admit that he had been trying to memorize every detail of his son’s face before he was forced to hide it once again under the James Potter mask. The wizard almost shuddered at the thought of it. “Sit,” he commanded instead. “We have to make you look like Potter again.”

Harry frowned, but did as he was told. He was not so sure he liked this plan anymore. Why did they have to hide? Wouldn’t it be better if everyone knew the truth and he could keep his face and his father? Although he was certain he did not know many secrets, Harry wasn’t sure he wanted, or could, keep this secret. It wasn’t fair to have to give up the best thing that had happened to him since going to Hogwarts. It just wasn’t fair!

Reflecting on it further as he watched his father take up his mother’s diary, Harry realized that he did not want to tell everyone the truth either. What would everyone say if they learned that he, the Harry James Potter, was actually the biological son of Potions Master, Severus Snape? What would Ron and Hermione do, what would they say? More importantly, what would Dumbledore do? The Headmaster had not hesitated to separate his parents, did that mean he would not wait to separate him and his father? The whole issue was so confusing.

“Are you ready?” Severus walked over to the boy, his ebony wand in hand.

“Do we have to do this?” Harry asked nervously. Even though he trusted his father with his life, Harry was still a little uneasy with the professor pointing his wand at him. After all, this was still the man that had threatened to expel him from the school numerous times and had given him more detentions alone than all of the detentions every other teacher handed out to the whole student body combined.

“Yes, I’m afraid we must,” Severus nodded, sitting down next to his son, ready to cast the spell.

“No, I mean, do we have to lie to everyone?” the boy turned pleading green eyes up at his father. “I mean, can’t we just…you know, go somewhere else?”

“Run away?” Severus was actually quite shocked at his son’s behavior. That was not the courage of a Gryffindor speaking, so what was it? Where had his Gryffindor son gone? “Harry, we cannot simply run away from everyone, or from our problems.”

“We could try,” the boy pleaded. “I don’t want to have to lie to everyone and, and…hate you again,” he head lowered.

Merlin, he sounded just like Lily! Severus had to blink several times to make sure that he was not dreaming this. The Slytherin could not help but remember when his Lily had said those exact words to him years ago now. It had pulled at his heart then and it pulled at it now. He did not want to have this conversation again, but what else could he do?

“Harry,” Severus kept his tone soft, hoping not to scare the distressed child. “We cannot run from our troubles, or those that cause them. Were it possible, I would have done it years before you were even thought of.”

“But I don’t want to have to live in secret,” Harry cried. “You said it yourself; that once the school year starts again you’re going to have to be a git to me again. And I’ll never see you!”

Taking a deep breath, Severus tried to keep himself calm. He did not want to deal with an emotional child at the moment, but it could not be avoided. Merlin did the child have mood swings! “Harry, I don’t have to be the man I was last year anymore,” he explained patiently. “I told you, most of my…nasty behavior came from trying to protect my position of being a spy. I could not be seen favoring you or Gryffindor, for that matter. I had to act as though I really was loyal to the Dark Lord, to the Death Eaters. I don’t have to act like that anymore.”

Looking up into his father’s eyes, Harry could tell that his father was being truthful, but there was still the fear lingering there that the wizard would not be able to help but slip back into old habits. Severus Snape was known for his grudges, after all, and his cruelty. Would the man be able treat everyone fairly this school year?

“But I thought you said we’d have to play our parts? Act as though nothing changed between us?” fear leaked into Harry’s voice without his consent, and he cursed himself for it.

Here, Severus looked sternly at his son, wishing his son was not so nervous. “Harry, things have changed, not just between you and me, but between you and Dumbledore, and all of the Order members and Dumbledore and myself. The Headmaster, the fool he can be sometimes, will know that it is impossible for me to think of you the same way after living with you for even that short time. He knows I care about you, just not how much I care. As long as we don’t rush our…temperance of each other at school, and since I can be more understanding now, we should be fine.”

Still looking apprehensive, Harry hung his head in defeat with a sighed. “All right then.”

“Very well,” the Potions Master nodded, bringing his wand up to his son’s face. “Are you ready?”

With a shaky nod, Harry watched as the terrifying wand came up to his face. Although he did not know why, Harry found himself closing his eyes as he listened to the long, flowing string of Latin his father spoke. It almost sounded like music.

Once Severus was done, he found himself to be extremely tired. That spell had taken quite a bit of magic out of him, and he would need a good night’s sleep to recover. That’s why he decided to perform this spell today instead of waiting until tomorrow. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day and he needed to be at his top strength.

“Congratulations,” Severus said softly, wincing ever so slightly at his son’s appearance. “You are now Harry James Potter again.”

Opening his eyes, finding them blurry, Harry felt his father shove his old glasses into his hands. He put on his hated spectacles and beheld his father’s sad face. It stung Harry's heart.

It was then that Harry knew that he truly was a Potter again in appearance. He stood and looked into a mirror. He did not like his transformation back.

*******

September 1, 1994 

Right at six, Severus woke Harry. The teenager got up and got ready for the day. He tried to get ready without having to look in the mirror too much. All he could see when looking in it was Severus’s disappointed and hurt face.

When the young wizard walked out into the kitchen, he saw his father making breakfast, as usual. Harry was suddenly saddened by the thought of not waking up to this scene anymore. He liked waking up to a father, to a nice breakfast, to a routine. He was enchanted with the thought of living a normal life, even if it had to be a bit on the Muggle side of things. What could be better than being normal?

Sitting down at the table, Harry watched as his father made a plate for him before setting it down in front of his son. “I could have served myself,” Harry tried to hide the smile that threatened to break free from his lips.

Not looking up as he turned back to pour tea, Severus merely nodded. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said sarcastically. Harry was going to miss the playful snark from his father.

After breakfast, which Harry savored, the boy helped his father with the dishes before he went back to his room to retrieve his trunk and owl cage. When he came back out, he was startled by his father, who was wearing his long black robes again. Harry had not seen those in quite some time.

“Are you ready?” Severus asked bluntly.

“Yeah. I mean, yes, sir,” Harry corrected himself. He was going to have to get used to treating Severus like a professor again and not a father. Weird that it had been so simple to think of the man as something more than a teacher, especially after everything that had passed between them at school. But now Harry realized that he was going to have a hard time treating Severus like the Potions Master he had known.

Frowning, but saying nothing, Severus nodded. He took out his wand and levitated Harry’s things until they were before him. He shrunk his trunk before handing it back over to Harry. “It will change back after several hours on the train. I’ve charmed it to work like a shrinking potion,” he explained. “Is Hedwig all right?”

“I think so,” Harry looked down at his owl that was quite perturbed to be put back in a cage. While in Llanfair, the owl had had free run, so to speak. Severus had been surprisingly tolerant of the bird, and had insisted that the owl not be caged all the time. He had even giving her a perch in Harry’s room.

“Good,” the Potions Master gave a crisp nod. “Off we go then," he held out his arm.

Taking Severus’s arm, while holding Hedwig as close as he could, Harry waited patiently, waiting for the apparition.  In just a blink of an eye, the wizard found themselves outside of the train station.

Hoping he wouldn’t get sick this time. But thankfully, his father had a strong hold of him this time and made sure that his son was steady on his feet. Although he felt extremely ill, Harry managed not to throw up this time around. After taking several deep breaths, he nodded. “I’m okay,” he said, but made no move to get his father to let go.

“Good,” was all Snape said before he released his grip on his son, but not before making sure that the boy could actually stand without falling over. When Harry stopped swaying, Severus seemed to take something out of his pocket, but Harry could not see what it was.

“What do you have there?” the boy asked.

The corners of Snape’s lips lifted ever so slightly as he answered, “An invisibility cloak.”

“Really?” Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t know you had one.”

“I do now,” the Potions Master put on the rare garment.

Harry frowned at first until his eyes lit up with recognition. “You took mine?” he asked, shocked. “But it's mine!”

“Technically, since I’m your father and you’re not of age, everything you really ‘have’ is mine,” the wizard stated candidly.

“What?” the boy scowled. “That’ not true!”

 “Part of wizarding law with regards to child care. You may want to look into it sometime,” the professor had a hard time keeping his amusement down.

Scowling, Harry muttered something under his breath before the now invisible Snape pushed him forward. “Come now. Enough standing around. Let us get inside.”

Harry walked into the station with his owl and his invisible father. He found himself becoming very nervous and jumpy. He and his father had planned everything out so well, but now that it was actually time to go through with the plan, Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to anymore. Why couldn’t they just run away again?

Once outside the barrier for the Hogwarts platform, Harry waited patiently until no Muggles were watching so he could run through. “Now,” came Snape’s command very close behind, so Harry took off and in an instant, he was on the other side, on the platform of nine and three quarters.

Looking around, the young wizard took in the familiar sights the station. The Hogwarts Express was sitting, waiting patiently until she could take off, and children with parents where crowding around everywhere saying their goodbyes and looking for friends. Harry found himself wishing he could tell his father goodbye, even though he knew he was going to be seeing the man later on that night. But it was justifiable since he had spent a whole month with Severus.

“Remember your story,” came his father’s quite warning. “Keep it simple. Keep it straight. And board the train. Do not tarry out here too long. I’m leaving now. I must get to the school.”

Suddenly feeling very alone, Harry wished he could at least see his father’s face. “Goodbye then…for now,” he added quickly.

“I will see you soon,” Snape said.

Somehow Harry knew when his father had left. It was almost like he could sense his father leaving, like his shadow had disappeared. But he did not have time to dwell on his sense of loss as he heard several loud cries from behind him.

“Harry!” 

“Harry!”

Harry turned around to see a wave of redheads swarm him. The red sea crashed into him, hugging, and in some cases, kissing him. There was a moment when he thought he was going to be suffocated. But when he objected, trying to push everyone aside so he could breath, Harry found himself looking at the whole Weasley family and Hermione.

“Oh Harry!” Mrs. Weasley and Hermione threw their arms around him again, tears flooding from their eyes. Ginny was also crying, though she was smiling, as were the Weasley men, and did not try to attack him again.

“Um, hello everyone,” Harry tried to sound as though he did not know what they were going on about. “Um, did I miss something?”

The women pulled back away from Harry and stared at him. “Oh, Harry!” Mrs. Weasley wailed. “We thought…we’d been told that…”

“Molly,” Arthur warned from behind his wife. “Not so loud, dear.”

“It’s so good to see you!” the boys all cheered and they all began talking at once, starting to give Harry a headache.

Although he was having a tough time staying composed and struggling to not throw his arms around his friends, Harry knew he had to play his part. Who knew if Snape was still around watching? Besides, he had to act as though he did not know what they were on about. That was safest, after all. He and his father had planned out everything.

“What happened to you, Harry?” Hermione cried.

Frowning, lest he start crying or laughing – he didn’t know which he’d do- Harry looked at the others confusedly. “What are you all on about?” he asked, his voice reflecting bewilderment. “What’s going on?”

Here, all the Weasleys and Hermione, looked at Harry stunned. “Mate,” Ron stepped forward, “we all thought you were dead!” his voice was a shaky whisper.

“Dead?” Harry choked out the word, finally able to let his guilt and pain slip through. “Why would you think that?”

“Albus informed us about the fire, Harry,” Arthur spoke up when Molly could not. “He said that no one survived.”

Frowning again, Harry was having a difficult time keeping his composure. “Fire? What fire? I wasn’t in any fire.”

“The fire the Death Eaters set on your aunt and uncle’s house, Harry!” Mrs. Weasley stared at the boy incredulously.

Using his fear and guilt again to his advantage, Harry let his face crumble. “Death Eater’s attacked the Dursleys?” his eyes flashed with horror as he remembered that night and how close he really had come to being a prisoner of the Death Eaters. “W-when did this happen?”

“It happened in the early morning of August the second, I believe,” Arthur thought back to that terrible morning. “Albus went to check on you and found the house burning.”

“I…I didn’t know about…” Harry trailed off, so he wouldn’t have to exactly lie.

“What happened then?” the twins demanded.

“Where were-”

“-you then?” they asked.

Taking a deep breath, Harry hoped that everyone would be too distracted to realize that he was lying to them. “Well, I ran away the day before,” he answered tightly. “I…I ran away because I didn’t want to stay with the Dursleys anymore, so I got a cab and went into London.”

“What!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. “You went to London all by yourself? Harry, what if something happened to you? Where did you go?”

Blushing at the rebuke, feeling terrible at having worried everyone, Harry looked down at his feet, ashamed. “Well, some men came and talked to me while I was wandering around, and when I said I didn’t have a family, they took me to an orphanage where I stayed the rest of the summer.”

“An orphanage!” Harry could not tell exactly who had said this as the voices all started to blend together.

“Yeah,” Harry blushed again, becoming very unnerved with the situation. “I didn’t know that you all would worry…or find out,” Harry looked up with pleading eyes. “I’m so sorry for worrying you all. I really didn’t think…” he trailed off.

At that moment, Mrs. Weasley pulled Harry into another fierce hug. It was then that the raven haired boy realized that the witch had lost some weight. Had she been that worried about him? He felt terrible. “There, there, Harry,” Molly cooed. “It’s alright. We’re just so glad you’re alive and unharmed! Merlin, are we glad you’re safe!”

Melting into the woman’s arms, Harry closed his eyes, trying hard not to cry. When Mrs. Weasley let go, Harry looked around at all of his friends. They were all smiling at him, as though they had never seen anything quite so beautiful in all their lives. It made Harry uneasy, but it also showed what good friends he had. “I really am sorry,” he said again.

“Enough of this now,” Mr. Weasley smiled at Harry as he squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “I believe that it’s time to load up the train. Can’t be late.”

Smiling up at the Weasley patriarch, Harry nodded, as the Ron threw his arm around Harry’s shoulder. “Come on, mate. We don’t want to have to take another car to school, do we?”

At this, Harry laughed, as he, Hermione, and the Weasleys loaded up everything onto the train before saying their goodbyes. Merlin, it felt good to see his friends again!

But little did Harry know that Draco Malfoy had watched the whole scene in disgusted anger. What had the group been talking about? Probably gloating about how Potter had escaped from the Death Eaters and how he had made the blonde’s father look like a fool or something. Draco’s face scrunched up in hatred. Damn you, Potter, he thought viciously, remembering when he had heard of the other boy’s escape and his own godfather’s betrayal.

“Draco,” his mother’s voice brought him out of his dark thoughts. “It’s time to board the train.”

Glaring in the direction Potter and his friends had gone one last time, Draco sighed and turned back to his mother. Even though a part of him still hated Potter, and how he had been able to turn Snape against the Death Eaters, Draco had to admit seeing the other boy was a relief. He remembered his mother’s words concerning Snape and found that he did not know what he should do.

Ignoring his growing confusion, Draco said goodbye to his mother, his father had not come, and boarded the train. He would figure things out on the way to get back at Potter, and Snape too.

*******

Once on the train and in a compartment, Hermione and the four Weasleys turned to Harry. “What really happened, Harry?” Hermione asked, once the twins had created a privacy spell.

“We want all the details,” the twins said together.

Sitting down, it took Harry a moment to collect his thoughts as he thought through the story he was supposed to tell. “Well,” he began, “just what I told you out there. Only there’s more,” he quickly amended once he saw his friends’ disbelieving faces.

“Like, what?” Ron asked. “Mum and dad never got into much detail.”

“Well, it started like this,” Harry said, actually amused at how closely everyone was leaning forward to listen to him. “One morning, when I woke up, I went downstairs to start on my chores.”

“Muggles were still treating you bad, were they?” Ron growled, his temper igniting.

“Yeah…at first,” Harry admitted. “Well, when I went downstairs, I saw that there was something on the couch.” Ginny and Hermione held their breath. “And when I looked closer, I realized that it wasn’t something, but rather someone.”

“Oh Harry!” Hermione covered her mouth. “Was it... a Death Eater?” she really did look scared.

Frowning, the Death Eater’s son did not really know how to answer that. “Well, yes and no.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Ginny frowned worriedly.

“Well, you see, when I went to go see who it was, as they were passed out on the couch, I was shocked to find that it was Professor Snape,” Harry’s eyes widened, as he was trying to make the story good, to keep suspicion off.

“What?!” Ron and the twins stood up, while Hermione clasped her hands over her mouth again, and Ginny let her mouth hang open.

“It’s true,” Harry nodded. “When I went over to him, he woke up and started talking all funny. I realized that he was delirious, and I found out that he had been hurt. Really bad. He was bleeding pretty bad too, and didn’t seem to know where he was or what had happened to him.”

“So…what did you mean, ‘yes and no’?” Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Are you accusing Professor Snape of being a Death Eater again?” 

“Well he was!” Harry said defensively. “Only he was a spy for the Order.” Realizing that his friends had no idea what the Order was, Harry decided to elaborate, “The Order of the Phoenix. It’s a secret group that Dumbledore got together to stop Voldemort.”

The Weasley children all winced at the name, while Hermione sat thinking, her face a light with wonder. “So, Professor Snape is good,” she stated triumphantly. “I knew the Headmaster couldn’t be fooled by him if Professor Snape was a bad man.”

“Well Dumbledore did let Quirrell into the school,” Ron pointed out.

“That was different!” Hermione snapped.

Holding up his hands for peace, Harry looked around at his friends again. “Please,” he said. “Snape’s not evil. He got hurt after he saved someone from the Death Eaters, which blew his cover. So he was running from them.”

“What did your relatives think about Snape being there, Harry?” Ginny asked quietly. “I’m sure they didn’t like that at all.”

“Not really,” Harry admitted as he remembered his relatives’ faces every time Snape came into the room. “But my aunt helped me take care of him.”

“What?” Ron looked beyond shocked. “Why?”

Here, Harry shrugged, not wanting them to know the whole truth just yet. “Don’t know. I think she just wanted him out of the house and was too scared that he’d hex her or something if she didn’t help.”

“So what-”

“-then?” the twins were squirming in their seats.

“Well, Snape got better and was leaving to see Dumbledore,” Harry found that he was having a hard time not frowning at the Headmaster’s name. “I begged him to take me with him, so he did.” By their faces, Harry could tell that none of his friends could quite believe that the Potions Master would do any favors for Harry, but he ignored them in pursuit of his story. “So, once they had talked things through, I asked the Headmaster to take me to the Burrow. But he said that I couldn’t go and took me back to Privet Drive.” Harry frowned at the memory. “Once I got back, the Dursleys had planned to go and once I was alone, I ran away,” he shrugged, concluding the story.

“That was a very dangerous thing to do, Harry,” Hermione scolded him once she found her voice. “What if the Death Eaters found you?”

“Well, it sounds like a good thing I did leave seeing as if I’d stayed they would have found me,” he frowned over at his friend.

The teens sat quietly for a moment, all of them deep in thought. “So…then you just spend almost a month in an orphanage?” Ron frowned at the thought.

“It was better than sleeping in the streets,” Harry shrugged. “It wasn’t too bad. At least I got to eat every day.”

Accepting the story easily, the teens all sat quietly before the twins opted to start a livelier and light hearted conversation. All the friends took to it gladly and soon they were all laughing and carrying on, just like they would have normally. Soon, Harry began to forget his worries and his troubles, and relished in the opportunity to be back with his friends again.

*******

Apparating to the school after watching as the Weasley clan and Miss Granger attacked his son, Severus took off the invisibility cloak and shrunk it back down and put it in his pocket. Straightening his robes, the Potions Master took out his wand, just in case, before making his way up to the school, hoping that the Headmaster had secured everything.

Once outside the gates, Severus beheld Pomona Sprout on duty to let in the last of the professors. “Sprout,” Severus nodded to her once she took down the wards.

“Hello, Severus,” the Hufflepuff greeted. “You are looking well.”

 Although he despised small talk, Severus paused to make his annual complement of the Hufflepuff Head of House. “Thank you,” he said civilly. “You are also looking well.”

“Thank you,” Pomona smiled before following Severus as he started to walk to the castle.

Frowning, the Slytherin looked back at the witch following him. “Aren’t you supposed to be on duty today?” he asked.

“Yes, but you’re the last to arrive, so everyone’s here now,” the witch answered kindly.

At this news, Severus winced slightly. He did not like being late, and he did not like being last. Normally, the Head of Slytherin was always at the castle, so he had the whole summer to prepare, and he was usually the one that stood watch at the gates to let the other professors in, but this whole year just felt weird to the Potions Master. But he nodded, accepting the answer.

Together, the Head of Hufflepuff and Slytherin walked into the castle when they were greeted by a very excited, anxious looking Professor McGonagall. “Severus! Thank Merlin you’re here!” she cried as she rushed over to her co-workers.

“What’s wrong, Minerva?” Severus instantly became alert. Had something happened to Harry? What if Lucius had kidnapped him at the train station? Dear sweet Merlin, he did not know if he could ever forgive himself if that happened!

“Not here,” Minerva said quickly. “Go to the Headmaster’s office immediately.”

Not having to be told twice, Severus nodded to Sprout before walking off at a neck breaking speed to the Headmaster’s office. What could this be about? Had Albus figured something out? Or perhaps something dreadful really had happened to Harry? It made the father ill to think about it, but he forced himself to remain calm. He didn’t know anything yet.

When he gave the password to the Headmaster’s office, the Slytherin pushed back is fears and stormed up the moving staircase. He had done this sort of thing many times, and these stairs almost didn’t seem like stairs to him anymore. But at the moment, he didn’t care what they were as he was too concerned for his son. Hopefully it was nothing, and the Headmaster was just being a fool again.

Upon walking in, Severus saw Arthur and Molly, Filius, and the Headmaster all standing around by the fireplace. “Severus, my dear boy!” Albus exclaimed merrily as he rushed towards the Potions Master.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Severus asked, dodging the Headmaster’s hug.

“Nothing’s wrong!” Dumbledore seemed as though he could not wipe the smile off of his face. “Harry’s alive!”

Relief flooded through the Slytherin at the Headmaster’s words. He had been preparing himself for the old man’s relief, for Dumbledore’s enthusiasm, but he had not counted on his own feelings in this situation. For a moment, he had forgotten that he was the only one that had known Harry was alive. So, it was not acting when the Potions Master had to support himself with a chair at this new, his eyes closed. “Are you sure?” he asked, trying to keep the embarrassment he felt out of his voice.

“Oh yes!” it was Arthur who replied. “Molly and I saw him at the station!”

“Apparently Harry had run away before the Death Eater attack and has been in a Muggle orphanage ever since,” Filius spoke up, delightedly.

It was then that Minerva came in, a smile on her normally stern face. “Isn’t this wonderful!” she exclaimed, rushing over to Molly and Arthur. “And here we had all thought the worst!”

Taking several deep breaths, Snape knew it was time for his performance to begin. “So that’s it then? The boy had run off?” he growled. “Not thinking of contacting anyone?”

“How can you talk like that, Severus!” Molly snapped angrily. “He didn’t know that we all thought he was…was gone. He probably couldn’t’ve written to us anyway. The important thing is that he’s alive and well.”

“Hear, hear!” Filius cheered.

Scowling at the defensive witch, Severus did his best to look at the others disgustedly. “I am not displeased that the little idiot is not dead, but I am concerned with the fact that you all seem to have forgotten that he did just that: ran off without a word to anyone. What if something had happened to him?”

Molly scowled blackly at Snape, her eyes burning in anger. “Harry’s not an idiot!” she snapped. “And I would rather him run away then stay where he’s supposed to and burn to death!”

“Please!” Dumbledore held up his hands. “Let us not dwell on such trivial things, such as this, but let’s be glad that the boy is alive and well. Now, I’ve gotten no reports that said Harry has gone to Diagon Alley, so he won’t have any of his books yet.”

“I’ll get them for him,” Molly offered. “I could have them here later today.”

“Very good!” the Headmaster smiled in delight. “Now, let’s not just stand around, we have things to prepare before the students arrive!”

As the Headmaster, Flitwick, and McGonagall all walked out of the office, and Arthur and Molly flooed away, Severus stood a moment, scowling. They were all acting as though nothing had happened at all. Could they so easily forget after weeks of trepidation?  As he left the room, Severus knew it was up to him to make sure his son would be safe, and won’t get into any trouble this year. But he had yet to figure out how he could be near the boy without looking suspicious…

*******

Later on that afternoon, Severus walked up the long, dreadful, flight of stairs to Professor Trelawney’s classroom. The Potions Master was thoroughly convinced that the witch knew about his fear of stairs and did this to him every year on purpose. But he scowled, and remained determined. He would not let on to his fear, he simply would not. Why did Dumbledore make all the professors see the crazed witch anyway?

Walking into the Divinations room, Severus’s scowl darkened. He hated it up here. He was convinced that the altitude got to the other professor sometimes and that’s why she acted like an idiot half the time. Half the time, anyway.

“Sybill,” Severus called impatiently. “I’m here. What do you want this time?”

Coming out of what appeared to be nowhere, the bug-eyed witch walked out into the relatively open air, if it could be called that since the room was so cluttery. “Severus!” she exclaimed, rushing over to the Potions Master. “So good of you to come.” She led the wizard to a couch to sit.

Blinking in irritation at the incense burning, the Slytherin glared at the witch as she scuttled around here and there, doing Merlin only knew what. “I don’t have time for this, Trelawney,” he snapped. “What do you want? And could you get rid of the incense? You know it makes me ill,” he snapped.

“Of course, of course,” Sybill nodded her head, her bushy hair jumping up and down. “But I have been seeing dark things of late, dark, terrible things. Do you know of any news?”

 “I do not,” Snape growled, becoming more and more irritated at the scents assaulting his nostrils. “If this is all you wanted, may I go?”

“Tea?” the witch offered kindly.

“No, I really do not want-” but his rejection was cut off as the witch handed him a cup anyway.

“It really is good tea,” Trelawney said airily. “Clears the mind.”

Seething, knowing that he would not get away without drinking some of the damned tea, Severus took a large gulp before standing up. But his actions caused his head to swirl. “I think I…I believe that…” and with that, Severus’s knees buckled and he fell onto the couch unconscious.

Setting down her teacup gently, Sybill looked at the Potions Master interestedly, before taking up a quill and parchment. Right on cue, Severus sat back up, his eyes completely black.

“The brave and the true shall lose their edge; the cunning shall win the day. None can see what lies ahead, the way is misty and unknown. Fire shall be consumed by the water, proud Slytherin shall prevail. Where once was light, light shall prevail, hiding in a veil of black. The truth shall be revealed, none can deny its coming. Fire shall be consumed by the water, proud Slytherin shall prevail.”

After reciting his prediction, Severus’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he was unconscious. Finishing her writing, Trelawney looked over to the younger man with a quizzical look. The Potions Master’s predictions were always rather dark, and after using them so long, Sybill truly began to believe that things were about to change for the worse. Severus usually predicted things that would happen in short time events, and she had yet to see one of the wizard’s predictions be false.

Looking over the words she had written out, Trelawney realized she was going to have to spice them up, the same as every year. It still surprised her that the wizard did not know he was a Seer, or the fact that he did not embrace it, like she had done. It really was the best way to go. She had to be thankful though, if he did know, he might just want to take her job!

So, standing up, putting away the parchment, Sybill went to also put away the incense and the tea she had found made Severus’s mind open for predictions. It really was a good thing she had too, or she’d never be able to find something to base her lessons on! And she was thankful too that the Headmaster always made Snape come up here to see her. She always requested professors come see her, as she liked to test each one of them for the gift, but thus far only Severus had proved useful.

Sighing, the witch prepared herself for waking the Potions Master and conjured a glass of water. She was just thankful he never remembered much, just that the incense made him “ill”. So, taking out her wand, Trelawney began the process of waking the soon to be livid Slytherin.

*******

When it was time for the students to arrive, Severus found himself in his usual place, sitting tall and rigid. As the day went on, the Potions Master had not calmed, but had actually gotten worse. He thought through many terrible scenarios, like what happened if Harry was abducted at the Hogsmeade station? Or, what if the carriage pulled by thestrals was attacked, and Death Eaters took Harry? But there was nothing Severus could do but sit and wait. His begining of the term meeting with Trelawney had not helped matters much either. He wondered why he always came away with a bad feeling.

When Minerva sat beside him, Snape did not even bother to look the witch’s way in favor of staring at the doors. “My, my,” the Gryffindor said with a smile. “I haven’t seen you this nervous since your first year teaching.”

Realizing that he was in fact very edgy, Severus cursed himself mentally before he looked over at Minerva. “Not at all,” he lied smoothly.

Leaning closer to the Potions Master, the Deputy Headmistress looked at Severus sympathetically. “It’s alright to be nervous, you know. I know that this year’s going to be hard for you since…well, your Slytherins aren’t going to be very…cooperative with you anymore.”

Yes, Severus had been dreading seeing his House again. The most influential Slytherin children just so happened to have Death Eater parents, and Snape was certain that those parents would have told their children about their Head of House’s betrayal. But at least he could count on the little vipers to keep their mouths closed since they did not want anyone else to know that the reason they hated Snape now was because he had betrayed the Dark Lord.

“I admit I am wondering how this year is going to turn out with this new…development,” he admitted softly, for his colleague’s ears only.  

“Don’t fret too much,” Minerva said knowingly. “You’ll be able to handle the children. You’ve never had problems with discipline,” she smiled mischievously.

Snorting, Severus turned away from the Gryffindor, acting as though he were far superior to the witch beside him. “Just because I don’t take lip from students doesn’t mean that you have room to judge,” he snapped. “At least I don’t sit there and take it.”

Chuckling, McGonagall turned away from the younger wizard and turned to talk to Pomona on the other side of the Headmaster’s chair before standing up to gather the first years. Scowling, Severus turned his attention back to the door. When would the students get back? He was starting to get nervous, and he hated being nervous. But he willed his face into a neutral blank again, occluding his mind.

Harry was fine. He was with his friends, and safe. He wouldn’t let himself get capture. The boy had stood up to the Dark Lord his first and second years, not to mention a troll, a basilisk, and Dementors.  Severus was just being too paranoid.

Just then, the doors to the Great Hall burst open and Snape’s ears were assaulted with the happy chatter of students. Immediately, his black eyes watched as the children filed in, looking for one student in particular. And after several torturous minutes, he was rewarded with seeing his son walking in, surrounded by the Weasley clan and Miss Granger. Harry was safe, his Harry was safe…

“Look there, Severus,” Snape was startled from his thoughts when the Headmaster whispered. “There he is! There’s Harry!”

“Yes, I see that,” the Potions Master snapped, turning his attention to the Slytherin table, lest the Headmaster catch him gawking again. He had to avoid making eye contact with Trelawney on the way.

As he scanned his table, Severus saw all of the Slytherin bunching together, keeping close, talking quietly amongst themselves. The Head of Slytherin began to feel a bit uneasy as his snakes would each sneak a glance up at him, only to turn away quickly, realizing that their Head of House was watching them. That was a good sign, he decided. Let them be afraid. It would save him some trouble later on, he was sure.

But there was one at the table that did not hide his disapproval at seeing Snape, and that boy was Draco Malfoy. The young blonde glared up at him with such hatred, for a moment, Severus felt a pang at his heart. Even though Draco could be a whiny little brat at times, the Potions Master did feel sorry for the boy. He knew what that boy went through to please his father; that his future had all been laid out for him, a future he did not seem keen on having.

When he met the gray eyes, Severus glared right back, watching in satisfaction as the boy shrunk away after a moment, unable to stare down his professor. That was a good sign too. If Draco still feared him, then the other ones would too. Severus had always had to use fear to get people to do what he wanted, and this year would be no different.

Scanning the room once more, Severus looked over at his son to find him with his friends, laughing and looking quite well. But he tore his eyes away when the doors opened a second time for Minerva and the first years to walk through. They always looked so small, and Severus found himself hating that he had not been able to feel pride at Harry’s sorting three years ago.

But that was all in the past, so the Potions Master turned his attention to the Hat, and his colleague, hoping the nagging feeling at the back of his mind was nothing.

*******

Once sitting down at the Gryffindor Table, Harry and his friends began talking excitedly among themselves. “I can’t wait for this year!” Hermione squealed, her new transfiguration book out and on the table.

“You always say that,” Ron glared at the bushy haired girl.

“Only because I always am,” she retorted before turning back to Harry. “Have you started reading your books?”

Harry had actually spent a month studying under Severus; the Slytherin teaching him fourth and fifth year curriculum like a drill sergeant, but he could not very well tell the others that. Staring blankly for a moment, Harry shook himself out of his thoughts and blushed. “I, uh, don’t have my books for this year yet. Never had time to get them, you know?” he shrugged.

Hermione looked like she was about to have a heart-attack. “No books?! Then what are you going to do?”

Ron rolled his eyes at the little witch. “He’ll be fine, ‘Mione. Professors always keep extra books lying around. I’m sure he can borrow some until he gets his own. I’m sure my mum would go shopping for you, mate,” Ron offered.

“Thanks,” Harry grinned at his best friend. It was good to be back.

But at the same time, Harry could not help his eyes that wondered up to the Head Table, to his father. He saw the Potions Master had taken on his usually greasy appearance, and Harry had to wonder why. Living with the man for a month, the Gryffindor had found that the Potions Master was extremely neat, boarderline germaphobic in some areas, but was he going to wean everyone off the “old” Snape slowly? Seemed possible.

As he watched the professor, Harry saw that his father was glaring at someone. And not just any old someone, but Draco Malfoy! The two held eyes for just a moment before the blonde had to look away. It seemed Lucius had told his son about the summer events, and it was only then that Harry began to worry about his father.

“What you looking at, mate?” Ron interrupted his thoughts.

“Just looking the staff over,” Harry shrugged. He did it every year.

“Look there,” Ron whispered. “There’s the greasy git.” Harry had to bite his lip to keep from scowling. “Whad’ya suppose he’s thinking?”

“About potions, probably,” Harry laughed uneasily. The other started laughing to, and they took back up a light conversation before Professor McGonagall walked into the hall followed by first years.

The same as every other year, McGonagall set out the stool before she brought out the Sorting Hat. The old thing still looked as tattery and terrible as last year. Harry was actually amused as he watched the first years squirm uncomfortably as they waited nervously. He remembered when he had stood up there, waiting to get sorted. He never wanted to feel like that again!

But before he could remember any further, the students all quieted and the Hat began to sing:

“A thousand years or more ago,
When I was newly sewn,
There lived four wizards of renown,
Whose names are still well known:
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,
Shrewd Slytherin from fen.
They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,
They hatched a daring plan
To educate young sorcerors
Thus Hogwarts school began.
Now each of these four founders
Formed their own house, for each
Did value different virtues
In the one's they had to teach.
By Gryffindor, the bravest were
Prized far beyond the rest;
For Ravenclaw, the cleverest
Would always be the best;
For Hufflepuff, hard workers were
Most worthy of admission;
And power-hungry Slytherin
Loved those of great ambition.
While still alive they did divide
Their favourites from the throng,
Yet how to pick the worthy ones
When they were dead and gone?
'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,
He whipped me off his head
The founders put some brains in me
So I could choose instead!
Now slip me snug about your ears,
I've never yet been wrong,
I'll have a look inside your mind
And tell you where you belong!”

The students all erupted into applause, as Harry frowned. “That’s not the song it sang for us,” he said.

“It changes every year, Harry,” Hermione said smartly, cutting in before Ron could speak.

 McGonagall unrolled her scroll, and gave the first years their instructions on how to be sorted. The small children looked around anxiously, and Harry felt sorry for them again. He wished someone could tell them that they had nothing to fear.

“Ackerley, Stewart!” the Transfiguration professor called out.

 “So what do you think this year will be like, with Professor Snape, I mean,” Hermione whispered over to Harry. “I mean, you did help him, possibly even saved his life.”

“RAVENCLAW!"

Frowning, focusing forward, wanting nothing more than to simply ignore his friend in favor of watching the sorting, Harry knew he could not put off his friends forever; especially Hermione and Ron. “I don’t know, but I’d say it’s going to be interesting,” he whispered back.

“Baddock, Malcolm!”

“Did he even thank you for that?” Ron asked testily.

“SLYTHERIN!”

Thinking back on it, Harry frowned. “No, not really,” he admitted. “But I think he had…other things on his mind.”

“Like what?” Ron demanded. “The least he could have done was thank you!”

“Creevey, Dennis!”

Looking forward, Harry frowned. “Is that Colin’s brother?”

“Yeah,” Ginny answered. “Can’t you tell? They look so much alike.”

“GRYFFINDOR!”

 “Wonderful,” Harry rolled his eyes. “Now I suppose they’ll both start stalking me.”

On, and on the ceremony went, until the last name was called: “Witby, Kevin!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

It was then that the Headmaster stood up to face the crowd. Looking at the old wizard, Harry felt himself become angry with Dumbledore. How could he stand up there so happy when he had almost got Harry killed? If it hadn’t been for his father, Harry was sure he’d be dead or worse right now.

“About time!” Ron grabbed his fork and knife.

“I have only two words to say to you,” the Headmaster smiled. “Tuck in.”

Just then the tables filled with food, and Ron did not hesitate to start filling his plate. But everything was interrupted when there was suddenly a loud cry, like a violin screeching. Everyone turned to look up at the front, to see that Professor McGonagall looked rather white, and surprised, with the Sorting Hat still on the stool.

“While spirits are still high

There’s one more sorting to go,

There’s one young wizard out there

That does not even know.

Where once was light,

Light shall shine in the dark.

This hat has to makes amends

So that it can hit it’s mark.

There is one young cub out there

That just no longer belongs,

For his heart sings a very new

And different type of song. 

There’s nothing to be afraid of

As this is a fresh start.

For this young man is different,

So cunning, and so smart.

Step up and change now

From fire to water.

Don’t be shy now, come up,

Mr. Harry James Potter.”

When the Hat had stopped it second song, everyone in the Great Hall turned stunned faces to Harry. Professor Trelawney gasped, filling the silence. Severus, who had stayed quiet, could not help the sick feeling that took him at that moment. He watched like a hawk as Harry sat still, eyes just as wide with surprise, or more so, than anyone else. He had known something bad was going to happen!

“H-Harry?” the Headmaster stood and looked at his favorite student, question in his blue eyes.

“Don’t be shy now, come up, Mr. Harry James Potter,” the Hat sang again.

Turning bright red, Harry found himself standing up and timidly walking forward towards the Hat. What was this all about? He felt sick, and he hoped he wouldn’t throw up in front of everyone.

Gentle, the Gryffindor set the Hat on his head. “I told you before, did I not, but you did not listen to me then,” the Hat spoke in Harry’s mind. “You really should have listened the first time around, Mr. Snape.”

Harry’s eyes widened in horror, just as the Hat screamed, “SLYTHERIN!”

1994  

That Hat… that Hat was mocking him! Somehow that Hat knew something and it was mocking Severus by calling Harry up there, before everyone, calling out Harry James Potter. Had the Potions Master not been so nervous and surprised, he might have found time to be furious with the ratty old Hat. But as it was, even though Severus felt the mocking sting of the Sorting Hat, he sat as still and silent as everyone else. He had a feeling something was going to happen, something that would no doubt shock them all.

“Fire shall be consumed by water,” Severus whispered to himself, not knowing why he spoke the words he did. But as he watched his son walk up to the front, picking up the Hat, another jolt shot through the Potions Master’s veins. “Proud Slytherin shall prevail,” he muttered.

The moment Harry set the Hat on his head time seemed to stand still for Severus. His eyes snapped open in realization. The Hat! It was resorting Harry! The Gryffindor flame was about to be extinguished by the Slytherin water! “Dear Merlin!” Snape whispered right as the Hat screamed, “SLYTHERIN!”

The whole Hall sat in a stunned silence. No one could think to say anything, no one seemed able to really even think at all. Harry, who had closed his eyes, just wished he could disappear. He felt himself blushing and he felt like he was going to be sick. Why did this sort of thing always happen to him?

Suddenly there was a sharp pain in Harry’s arm, like it was trapped in a vice. He snapped open his eyes, looking up to see the grim face of his father, Professor Snape. Not even waiting for Harry to register anything, Snape drug the boy off the stool, the Sorting Hat still on his head, and took him out of the Great Hall, around the Staff Table, and through the staff entrance. The Hall remained silent as they watched the Head of Slytherin drag off Harry Potter.

Slamming the door shut behind him, Severus all but threw Harry onto a couch before he began pacing rapidly. “This is impossible,” Snape was talking aloud, making Harry very nervous. “This is not good, Harry, this is not good at all.”

Just then, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall came through the door as well, the sound of students gossiping filling the room before the door was closed once again. Both Gryffindors looked almost as bad as Snape, with their faces white and their countenances very grim. While Snape kept pacing, Dumbledore was stroking his beard in an almost spastic manner, while McGonagall looked like she was about ready to throw up. The sight of the adults in such a state frightened Harry, and he could not help but shiver.

As he waited for someone to speak, Harry took off the Sorting Hat and put it on the other end of the couch he was sitting at. He had no desire to be near it anymore. But as he waited, he began to sweat, and was having trouble with the silence. Why wouldn’t anyone speak?

“I just…don’t understand,” Dumbledore finally did speak up.

“This is not good, Albus!” Snape said, never slowing his pacing.

“This is a thing unheard of!” McGonagall shrieked. “No one’s ever been resorted before, Albus! No one!”

Harry looked between the three professors and wondered what was going to happen to him. Although he could not deny that he had changed this summer, quite drastically really, he had not actually thought that he had changed enough to be resorted. Although for a time he had regretted not being sorted into Slytherin his first year while staying with Snape this summer, afraid that he had let his father down somehow, Harry found that at the moment he had no desire at all to be in the Slytherin House at all. What was going to happen to him? He could not be a Slytherin! 

“You can’t let Potter into Slytherin, Albus!” Minerva cried. “They’ll eat him alive!”

“Severus,” the Headmaster turned to the Potions Master, who stopped his wild pacing. “What did you do?”

“What?” Snape’s eyes actually widened in shock for a moment. “You think I had something to do with this?” It was clear that the younger wizard was quite insulted with his mentor’s accusations yet again. “I didn’t do anything to that bloody Hat!”

“Then why did it resort, Harry?” Dumbledore growled, it seemed he could not think as clearly at the moment.

“The Sorting Hat cannot be spelled by any but the original casters, For only the original four are this hat’s true masters,” the Hat Sang a little tune quietly.

The three professors and the student stared at the Hat again as though it were the devil himself, before the adults turned their attention to Harry once more. The boy blanched.

“Harry,” Dumbledore walked over to the former Gryffindor, “can you tell me what happened out there? Why did the Hat call you up?”

Worrying his hands, Harry did not know what to say. He had not done anything to the Hat to make it call him back up and get resorted, nor could he really explain why the Hat called him up at all. Although he had a pretty good guess… But before Harry could answer, there came a thumping noise, like wood against stone, and turning around, the boy jumped upon seeing something, or rather someone, emerge from the shadows.

This man had rather long, stringy gray hair that looked as though it hadn’t been kept for some time; but that was the most flattering detail. The man had a pair of mismatched eyes, one large, swiveling blue eye that resembled a chameleon’s eyes, the other one a steely gray. There were large scars slashed over the man’s face, and a chunk of his nose seemed to be missing. The man was neither too skinny, nor too fat, but somewhere in between, but short in stature. And he was missing the lower half of his right leg. Harry found that he could not look too long at this man, but whether it was from disgust or pity, he did not know.

Instead, the boy turned his attention to his professors. But when he saw his father, he watch curiously as the left side of Snape’s face twitched three times before it went completely blank, as though set in stone. Harry could not recall ever seeing his father like this, and it scared him.

“Alastor!” Dumbledore rushed over to the new wizard. “You’re just in time.”

“What’s going on here?” came the gruff voice of the Alastor man.

“I’m afraid that there is something strange going on that Minerva, Severus, and I must go over with Harry, here,” the Headmaster explained.

The frightening wizard snapped his head over to glare at Snape the moment the Potions Master’s name was mentioned. Harry watched interestedly as his father and the new wizard held a silent battle of intimidation, and for once, Harry wasn’t sure if Snape was winning. That, in its self, scared him. It did not seem possible for anyone to be more frightening than the Potions Master.

“What’s this now?” Alastor asked, turning back to the Headmaster, looking away from Snape, as though saying the other wizard wasn’t worth any of his time.

“Can you go out and help Filius and Pomona keep the students under control while we take care of Harry here?” Dumbledore asked.

Nodding, the strange wizard limped to the door and stepped outside, where the chattering had gotten louder. The moment the door closed, Severus shot a silencing spell around the door, and turned on the Headmaster like a rabid dog. “Moody?” the Potions Master screeched. “What the hell is Moody doing here!” he demanded.

“What do you mean?” the Headmaster really did look confused.

“How can you be like that?” Snape shouted, a vein in his neck looked as though it were going to explode. “What the hell is Moody doing here?” he asked again. Odd, Snape never repeated himself.

“I’ve hired him as the DADA professor,” Dumbledore said calmly, though with a frown.

“What!” Severus recoiled away for the Headmaster as though Dumbledore had just turned into a troll. “Why the hell would you do that?”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, the Headmaster sighed tiredly. “Severus, it isn’t that bad-”

“Isn’t that bad!” the Slytherin looked as though he were about to explode with anger, much like he had at the Dursleys with Petunia. “What is wrong with you? It’s Moody, and he hates me, you dolt!”

“Severus, please!” Minerva was ringing her hands, looking worriedly between the Headmaster, the Potions Master, and her student.

The witch and boy seemed to be ignored for a moment, as the two wizards focused solely on the other, never sparing a glance at the other two in the room. “Severus, be reasonable for once. Alastor was the best Auror that-”

“The man’s a lunatic!” Snape screamed. “He’s crazy! You know what he’s like! You know he went off the deep end, and now you want him to teach students?”

Although Harry did not know who this Alastor Moody was, he was certain he wasn’t going to like the man very much. He had not seen his father express such hatred for anyone except Sirius before. And if Snape hated this Moody person as much as he did Sirius Black, Harry was certain that things were not going to pan out well at all. He just wished he was back outside, sitting with his friends at the Gryffindor table, worrying about how he was going to get his books.

“Calm yourself, Severus,” Dumbledore ordered sternly. “You’re overreacting.”

“Overreacting?” Snape let out a mirthless laugh. “Overreacting? Merlin, Albus! You, of all people, should know why I don’t want him here! You remember what he did to me when I was i…”

Harry watched in slight horror as his father trailed off, as though he were not able to speak of whatever Moody had really done to him. The boy found himself extremely nervous for his father’s sake, although he was not exactly sure why. Whoever Alastor Moody really was, he had to be terrible if he made the infamous Severus Snape squeamish.  Harry actually began to shake a bit, his anxiety over his resorting and then now his fear of his apparently new professor was taking its toll on him.

“Forget not that Alastor is one of the Order members and-”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Severus cut off the Headmaster.

“It means that you can trust him, Severus,” Dumbledore glared at the younger wizard fiercely. “He knows now that you were working for me and-”

“He also knows that I was a Death Eater!” the Potions Master looked about ready to scream again. “That’s all he sees when he looks at me! You know that! He never wanted me released!”

Released? Harry frowned at the word. What was that supposed to mean? The only things he knew that people released were animals and prisoners, but his father was neither of those…was he? No, no his father could not have been a prisoner…could he have been? No, Harry had watched Sirius close enough, had even read the few letters he had gotten from his godfather, and he could tell that the man had been in prison. There was a slight oddity in the way Sirius talked, how he wrote that indicated insanity. There was something that glistened in his eyes all the time, a harsh bitterness, a need to do the rash. Even before he knew the Potions professor was his father, Harry had never seen anything of the sort in Snape’s black eyes.

“Control yourself, Severus!” the Headmaster barked. “Alastor-”

“You’re not listening to me!” Snape shouted, throwing his arms down in a fit of rage, causing his cloak to swirl about him dangerously. “I’ve had it with you!” he went on, his black eyes burning with hatred. “Either he goes or I do.”

“What!” both Harry and Minerva shrieked, taken back in complete surprise.

“Severus!” the Headmaster had the nerve to look hurt.

“I’ve had it!” the Potions Master hissed. “I’m tired, Albus, tired. And I’m not going to stay if Moody teaches. I won’t be near him.”

His father was quitting? If Harry had been afraid before, he was terrified now. What was going to happen to him now? If Snape left Hogwarts, what would happen to Harry? He’d be lost and alone, at the mercy of the Slytherins. Without Severus being the Head of Slytherin, there was no telling what the vipers would do to him.

“Y-you’re leaving, sir?” Harry spoke up quietly, after staying silent for so long.

Severus snapped his head over to where his son was still sitting, right where he had put him. He locked eyes with the beautiful green orbs and he instantly regretted his rash statements and harsh temper. They had gotten him into more trouble over the years, and looking into Harry’s frightened eyes, he wished he had never said anything at all. He did not see Harry Potter; he saw his own son’s face, the child that he had watched over all summer. He also saw in those eyes Lily…

How could he have even thought about quitting? Especially after what had happened only a few minutes ago! If Harry really was sorted into Slytherin now, Severus knew that the only chance the boy had was through him. There was no telling what his House would do to Harry, and the Headmaster wouldn’t have enough sense to take precautions to ensure the boy’s safety. Hadn’t he told Harry the other day that you could not run from your problems? Why should Severus have an exception?

Taking several deep breaths, Snape turned back to face the Headmaster. “I suppose if I left Potter wouldn’t be looked after, would he?”

“Don’t do this, Severus,” Albus said gently. “I need you here.”

“You always need me for something,” the Potions Master growled. “But I suppose I can’t leave Potter as bait.”

“Yes, I believe you are still needed to watch over him. Now more than ever,” the Headmaster nodded.

Charging forward, as though she had been neglected long enough, Minerva stood before the two wizards and glared at them dangerously. “Then you’re really just going to throw him in with the Slytherins?” she demanded hotly. “Merlin, Albus, even with Severus here, the boy won’t last a day with them!”

“You doubt my influence?” Snape hissed quietly. Harry could not tell if his father’s tone was out of resentment towards McGonagall’s statement or if it was just from his lingering temper.

“What can we do, Minerva?” Dumbledore looked down at the witch before him. “No one’s ever gone against the Sorting Hat. And since none can change its instruction but the Founders, I don’t think there is anything we can do except place Harry in Slytherin.”

At this, Minerva paled, and Harry sat silently as another round of shouting and arguing occurred. He turned and scowled at the Hat sitting three feet away from him. If only he had managed to skip the Feast again this year!

*******

“SLYTHERIN!”

The moment that house was called, the whole table of Slytherin could not help but sit dumbfounded as they stared at the Harry Potter. Sitting among his normal cluster of friends, Draco watched in silence, just as shocked as everyone else in the room that Potter the Glorious would be resorted into his house! It was crazy, it was absurd! There had to be some sort of mistake. Potter simply could not be in Slytherin. It was physically impossible for the scar-head to be in Slytherin!

Suddenly, something caught Draco’s attention out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to see Professor Snape charge down from the Head Table and over to where Potter was sitting stupidly on the stool. Last year, Draco would have believed that his Head of House was going down there to kill the worthless Gryffindor, but now… now the young Malfoy was not so sure.

With calculating eyes, Draco watched as Snape grabbed Potter by the arm, not all too gently either, and all but sprinted off through the teacher’s entrance doors. The moment the door slammed shut, the Great Hall erupted in talking. The loudest cries came from the Gryffindor table, and when he looked over, Draco saw that the Weasleys and Granger were staring at the door Potter had gone through, their faces still frozen in shock until the Weasley in his year stood up and started yelling something that was drowned out by all the other talking. Granger tried to pull him back down, but Potter’s sidekick refused to sit.

Of all the tables, the Slytherin table was the quietest, but that did not mean they were not shocked. First the betrayal of their Head of House, and now Potter was sorted into their house? What was next? “Merlin, is Slytherin destined to be tainted forever?” Pansy cried from Draco’s right.

Sneering at the girl, Draco remained silent as he turned away from the crying girl in favor of watching the door. What was happening in there? What was being said? Dumbledore and McGonagall were gone now, which meant that they went after Snape and Potter. Looking back over to the Head Table, the blonde watched as Professors Flitwick and Sprout tried to calm everyone down and commanded that they all eat their dinner.

Looking down at his plate, Draco was not sure if he could eat anymore. This was disgusting, the whole situation! What was going on here? What was Snape planning? There seemed to be no gain by placing Potter into Slytherin where the professor had to know that the Gryffindor would be meat. But then again, Snape and Dumbledore too, had seemed just about as surprised as everyone else. Maybe this wasn’t all planned out? Maybe this was all some freak accident?

The Hall kept getting louder and louder until the door to the teacher’s entrance slammed open. Draco immediately snapped his eyes over towards the door but was horrified to see a man he had only ever heard his father, and occasionally Snape, take about: “Mad-Eye” Moody. The Death Eater’s son paled instantly. He had never seen the Auror in person, but there was no mistaking the description that this man fit to the tee.

Was that it then? Dumbledore hired an Auror to keep the Slytherins at bay while Professor Snape could flaunt his freedom and his betrayal in all of their faces? Perhaps Potter’s situation was not by accident. Perhaps they knew it was going to happen and they hired him an Auror to guard him? Sweet Merlin, was Dumbledore going to have the whole House of Slytherin investigated?

The moment Moody was near the Headmaster’s chair, he sent up spark that popped and immediantly caught everyone’s attention and the whole Hall went silent.  “Get to eating!” the old Auror growled. “Things are getting taken care of!”

It was almost as affective as a command from Snape in potions class, and all the children began to pile their plates full with food. But Draco could not help but stare at the Auror in the front. He began to feel nervous as he watched the disfigured wizard limp to an empty chair, and sneered when Moody flopped down into Professor Snape’s vacated seat. A shiver went down the young Malfoy’s spine.

What was going to happen to them now? Snape had been the champion of all Slytherins; he had been the only one that had listened to their side of the story, the only one that did not assume the worst in them. Snape stood up for them to the other professors, was the only one they could turn to when in trouble or confused, the only one that cared about them. The man had been a hero to them all, why had be betrayed them all like this! He had to have known that they all adored him!

Balling his hands into tight fists, Draco glared down at his still empty plate. He had found out from his father several years ago that Snape had been severely mistreated while in Azkaban, even by their standards, and that Mad-Eye Moody had been one of the ones that had arrested Snape and left him to rot in prison. Snape would hate Moody, would he not? But why did Draco care about Snape? It had been an act, more than likely, just like everything else. If it wasn’t an act, then the blonde wished that the Auror would lock his godfather away forever. Let the Half-blood, Muggle loving, double-crossing, Potter arse-kisser rot!

“This is terrible!” Pansy wailed again, and Draco had to keep himself from shouting at her.

Looking back to the teacher’s entrance, Draco sighed. He recalled his mother’s words to him again, that day when his father had come home drunk with rage: If you have any of me in you, then you will see the wisdom in keeping your godfather alive. The words rang in his ears again and again until they almost made him sick. I don’t know what to do, Mum! He thought desperately.

But one thing was certain, he was going to find out just exactly what was happening and no one was going to stop him.

*******

Harry thought that either he was going to fall forward and break his nose or that his arm was going to get ripped off when his father was literally almost dragging him down into the dungeons. They went down and down, twisting this way and that, until finally they stopped outside of the Slytherin dorms. Harry remembered them after sneaking his second year with Ron under the disguise.

Without pausing, Snape raced towards the wall where a tapestry hung, dragging Harry with him. The younger Snape was certain that they were going to crash when the doors suddenly opened. “No password?” he mumbled in surprise as he looked over his shoulder, watching the doors close.

“The Head of House does not need to say the password,” Severus hissed through gritted teeth before stopping at a wall where there was a picture of Salazar Slytherin. “Open the door,” Snape spat.

The picture frowned at the Snape, but did not argue. The walls suddenly parted and the Potions Master rushed in, Harry still in his grip. “Sit,” the professor commanded, finally let go of Harry’s arm.

Rubbing his arm, Harry sat down in a wooden chair that had Slytherin green padding. The room was fairly large, with a large wooden, mahogany desk and a large, almost throne-like chair behind it that was adorned in green and silver. Behind the desk was the most beautiful Slytherin crest tapestry Harry had ever seen. It looked very old, like it had been made before the Middle Ages had begun. Two walls were covered from floor to ceiling in books, and there was a matching chair to Harry’s at the other side of him to finish off the room. On a whole, the room was bare and empty, really.

Sitting at his desk, Snape placed his elbows on the desk and folded his hands. “Well,” he sighed after a moment to calm himself. “This is not what I thought this year was going to be at all.”

“Sir?” Harry looked up at his father.

“Despite Dumbledore’s lack of real concern,” Snape’s lip pulled back in disgust, “you are going to have to stay here in the dorms with the other Slytherins.”

Fear shot through Harry like a bolt of lightning. He had heard Dumbledore say that he was going to have to room with other Slytherins, but hearing it from his father’s mouth just made it feel more real. When the Headmaster had said it, Harry had imagined that he wouldn’t have to do it, since the whole summer he had basically been doing everything the Headmaster had said not to, and on Severus’s orders. But hearing it from the Potions Master’s lips told Harry that it was final, there was no way he was getting out of this.

“You will have to be careful, Harry,” Snape said seriously. “There is only so much I can do for you. We will have to come up with a schedule so that I am here to escort you from your room in the morning and then back again at night.”

“You’re going to walk me from every class?” Harry winced. The thought of having Snape, father or not, walking him everywhere was mortifyingly embarrassing for one thing, and troubling for another. Would the other students really be that bad?

“Of course not!” Severus snapped. “I will not be able to escort you from class to class. I have my own agenda to follow. But I would like to make sure you will not get attacked in the dorms. Once you’re in your dorms, you’ll not be able to leave until the next morning when I come and get you. And this is for your own good.”

Sighing, looking down at the floor, Harry nodded. “But what about my dorm mates? Won’t they…cause problems?”

“Leave that to me,” Severus growled, his eyes flashing before he stood up abruptly. “Come now. The others should be here within a few moments.”

Exiting what Harry supposed was another of Snape’s offices, the two stood out in the open for only a moment before the doors opened again and the Slytherin children came in. As the other Slytherins made their way in, they paused seeing their Head of House and Harry Potter standing silently watching them, but pushed aside the discomfort to come in the rest of the way. The prefects stood towards the side in the front while the rest of the children lined up according to year, first years in the front, then second years and so forth. As Harry watched, he could not help but think of some sort of military operation.

“Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts,” Snape began once everything was silent. “And welcome to those of you who are new this year. I am your Head of House and Potions Master, Severus Snape.” There was an edge, a hardness to the professor’s voice that dared anyone to interrupt him. No one did.

“I am here to ensure that you all understand the rules, and provide answers to any questions you may have.” Snape scanned the room with harsh eyes. “I am here to ensure that you will all perform adequately in your studies and keep you in line. Should you disregard any of the rules the school has set up or any rules I have set up, I will not hesitate in punishment. If any of you cause problems,” here Snape glared pointedly at all of the students Harry knew had Death Eater parents, and a few he did not know, until they each looked down at their feet, “and I assure you, your year at Hogwarts will not be a pleasant one.

“You are all in the proud and noble House of Slytherin,” Severus went on, hands clasped behind his back. “The other houses will judge you, the other professors will be critical of you, but do not be ashamed. Hold your heads high. Here in Slytherin, I expect unity among house mates. The other houses are disorganized and quarrel amongst themselves, Slytherins do not. I do not want to hear about any fighting among any of you outside of these dorms. Outside of here, we are unified.”

Harry was actually surprised by the speech, as Professor McGonagall had never talked to Gryffindor like this before. In fact, Harry could not think of a time when McGonagall had explained so much to her house as Snape was. Was it all because of him? No, surely not, as some of the other students seemed to have heard this speech many times before.

“Now,” Snape went on, “I have a list of rules and regulations printed, along with tentative schedules for you all. Memorize them,” he barked. “Mr. Sellick and Miss Everard will be spitting you up into groups and handing out the list of rules and giving the rest of your instructions,” he glared fiercely at Sellick while he did not even glance at Everard at all, before handing each of them parchment which Harry supposed had the different lists. “Split up into your groups once they call you. Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, if you would follow me,” Snape turned on his heels and walked back towards his private office.

Not feeling so comfortable, Harry jumped to follow his father, while Draco, sulking, followed as well after waiting a few moments. The office door closed with a smart snap just as the blonde Slytherin stepped all the way in. Snape was standing behind his desk, and when both boys were in front of him, he sat down. Once he seemed comfortable, he raised an eyebrow at the children before him and the two rivals scrambled to sit, feeling awkward before the Potions Master.

“It would seem that there are some complications that have arisen this year,” Snape looked down at his students, his tone dry. “I do not need to tell either of you about my own standing this year,” he glared particularly at Malfoy. “I do not want trouble from either of you while in the dorms, in classes, or anywhere else this year, have I made myself clear?”

Harry nodded quickly with a quiet “yes, sir,” while Draco turned his head away, glaring into space bitterly.

“I believe I asked a question, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape’s voice was hard and unrelenting.

Looking up, still scowling, Draco gave a, “yes, sir,” before turning back away, not wanting to look at a man he had once trusted all of his secrets and troubles.

“Very well,” Severus nodded, not looking happy, but not furious. “That will do. For now, I suppose. Now we move on to the next issue I’ve discovered.”

This “new” issues seemed to attract both boys attention and they turned to look up at their professor questioningly. “It would seem that there is not enough room to fit all of the fourth year boys into one room this year, with the addition of Mr. Potter that is. And since we certainly cannot let him room by himself,” Snape sneered, “I must split the boys. However, since I know  I cannot trust Mr. Zambine or Mr. Nott, I have decided that I must only draw out one young man to make the sacrifice of rooming with Potter,” the professor’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “So congratulations, Mr. Malfoy, meet your new roommate.”

“What?!” both Harry and Draco stood up from their seats.

“You can’t be serious, sir!”

“I’m not rooming with the Gryffindor!”

As the two boys began to argue and yell, Snape did nothing but sit and listen to all of the reasons why he should not let the two room together. But as time went on, the two boys realized that their arguments were not being weighed heavily as the slowly, a smile began to spread on the Potions Master’s lips, until they quit speaking at all and the Head of Slytherin was smiling.

“Well your reasons are sound,” Snape nodded once to the two boys. “And yet I remain unmoved. You two will have to get over your petty little differences and learn to be, at the very least, civil to one another.”

There was a moment when Harry wanted to scream at the man before him, scream and shout and curse. How could Snape do this to him? He knew how much Harry hated Draco, but now he insisted that they room together? This was insane, and the Potions Master was just being evil!

“You can’t be serious,” Draco stood stunned, glaring up at his godfather as though he were a simpleton.

“Oh, yes, I am, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape glared down at both children again. “You’ll be rooming together and if one or both of you turn up dead…well then I’ll know who was to blame.”

Draco and Harry stood horrified, their mouths hanging open. “What?” Harry shrieked.

“And just so I make myself clear,” Severus went on, his voice stern. “If something should happen to one of you, I will hold the other responsible. Do anything to the other, and I’ll know who to question first. Get any outside help won’t matter, I’ll punish you for their crimes. Have I made myself clear?” he sat back in his chair, looking almost kingly.

“Yes, sir,” both boys spat bitterly, looking at the floor in hopes that the Potions Master wouldn’t see the murder in their eyes.

“Good,” the professor growled. “And now on to new business: Mr. Malfoy, I believe I do not have to ask you if you’ve been informed about the summer events.” Draco blushed with anger. “That being, know that I will be watching you carefully. Daddy isn’t here anymore,” Snape’s tone was cruel. “Try anything, lead any rebellious acts against me, and I will not hesitate to lease all my knowledge of your family and their…less than lawful possessions.”

“You’re blackmailing me?” Draco was stunned, staring up at his godfather.

“In common terms, yes, I am,” Severus nodded. “I cannot afford you to cause any trouble this year. Anything you say or do, I will be monitoring. Behave well and I shall not speak a word.”

“Y-you can’t do this!” Draco stood staring at his godfather in utter shock. “Blackmails illegal!”

“Since when has your family cared about breaking the law?” Snape raised a mocking eyebrow. “And do you think anyone would really care about a man blackmailing a Death Eater’s son?”

Tears of sheer frustration began to pour from Draco’s eyes as he scowled darkly at his Head of House. “I thought you were one of us! Someone we could trust! But…but you’re not! You’re just like all the rest of them, aren’t you?”

For the second time that night, Harry was forgotten about, and he watched his father and rival. Harry could not stop himself from feeling sorry for the other boy who had clearly trusted Severus, perhaps even cared about him, while Snape did not show anything at all. His heartless display actually cut into Harry’s heart, and he wondered again if his father really did have feelings.

“I am not like anyone, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said, after waiting a moment to let Draco compose himself. “I will not be hard to get along with as long as you follow my guidelines. Do that and things will go on the same as any other year. I only ask that you not stir up trouble and force me to carry out the punishments I have set.”

There was a pause in which Severus was waiting for his godson to challenge him, argue with him, do something. He knew he was being more than stern, but he needed to be at the moment. He liked Draco, but the boy was unprincipled in some areas, and Severus did not know just how the boy had reacted to his father telling him that his godfather had betrayed the Death Eaters. Snape knew that in this matter, he could not be over-cautious with, especially now that Harry was thrown into this odd mixture.

“You really don’t care about me, do you?”

The question caught Severus by surprise, and it took all of his will not to show the surprise on his face. He did not want Harry to see this, nor did he want Draco to know how hurt he felt at the moment. But adorning the title as “the worlds only living heart donor” he had received like a cloak, the professor let none of his thoughts or feels show on his face or creep into his voice.

“That’s quite enough, Mr. Malfoy,” he said sternly. “I have no time for this. I care for my House. Everyone in my House.” He made sure the young Malfoy comprehended that he was talking about Harry. “Now, Mr. Potter,” he turned his hard gaze over to the other boy.

Harry could not help but gulp. His father was not in a good mood. In fact, all Harry was seeing tonight was the old Snape, the man that terrified him, the man that he hated. His father said that they were going to have to take their “tolerance” of each other slow, but it seemed that he was forgetting to take a step towards tolerance at all.

“What I just said to Mr. Malfoy applies to you as well,” the man growled.

Draco’s head snapped up. What? Was Snape threatening and blackmailing Potter too? That was unexpected, and quite frankly, the blonde wasn’t sure what to make of this. What did Potter have to hide exactly, and what was so bad about it? Maybe the professor had seen something when he went to Potter’s house over the summer? Seemed more than likely.

“Yes, sir,” Harry nodded, not meeting his father’s eyes. Merlin, did his father have to look so mean?

“I mean it, Potter,” he spat. “One foot out of line. You’re no longer in Gryffindor, where McGonagall coddles you and bows to your every wish. You’re in my House now, and as such, you will behave like a Slytherin; no more of this Gryffindor nonsense.”

Both boys stood still, their heads hanging, their eyes fixed on different places on the floor. Although they still hated each other, they were finding it easier to be angry with the Potions Master at the moment. “Good,” the Head of Slytherin nodded. “Now, get out of here and go to your dorm!” he barked. “It’s down the stairs, to the left, the one by the statue. Well? Move!”

Both boys jumped to obey, but when they were almost to the boy, Snape’s voice stopped them. “Oh, and Mr. Potter?”

Harry and Draco turned around, apprehension written on both of their faces. A cold mask of anger seeped slowly onto the Potions Master’s face, and he flicked his wand carelessly at Harry. Suddenly the Gryffindor gold and maroon changed into silver and green, and the Gryffindor crest was replaced by a Slytherin one on his clothes. “Welcome to Slytherin.”

The moment the door closed behind the two boys, Severus walked around his desk and went towards the door, as though to follow them. But he stopped himself short and scowled. He could not follow them, he had to disappear silently through the night, to walk the halls of Hogwarts like the vampire they all accused him of being. There was no room to be weak and go crying back to the boys, begging their forgiveness. Severus Snape did not apologize, he did not beg, he did not feel anything but hatred, anger, and confidence as far as all the students knew. No, no one, not even Dumbledore, would suspect a kinder version of the Potions Master. It was just too risky.

Severus was not a kind man. He had been kind, once, when he had been young, growing up with Lily, but that was years ago now. When he had joined the Death Eaters he had stepped back to look at himself and realized that he would never be innocent again. There was no kindness in him anymore. What he did that people might view as kind, he had his own motivation for it. He rarely did things out of charity, since he saw everyone as having had it better than he had as a child and as an adult. He had suffered torture with the Dark Lord and in prison, and he had spent his life alone in the dark, bitter and sad.

Only, that had all been a lie hadn’t it? Severus was not that man anymore. There had been a time when he had lived in the light, the time when he had been married to Lily. Everyday Severus remembered something new, yet another memory of his beloved. He remembered a time being warm and happy. He had not always been the man everyone thought they knew today. There had been a time when he, too, had joy.

But what had happened? Dumbledore had taken it all away! He had taken his happiness, his light, his only source of life, away from him. The Headmaster had handed Lily over to the one man in the world that Severus knew did not deserve her: James Potter.

James Potter! How could Lily have stood marrying that worthless piece of trash?! He was everything despicable and vulgar and she knew how much Severus hated him. But then again, Severus really wasn’t all that upset at his wife. What could she have done? She was right in her concerns about the Death Eaters hunting down her son, especially if they did find out that Harry had been Severus’s. Although he was loathed to admit it, the safest place Lily could have put herself was with James Potter…at least, that is how it looked at the time. Severus still cursed himself to that day for giving the Dark Lord a bit of the prophecy. He had not known it was a real prophecy! He had needed to take something back to the Dark Lord, and since Dumbledore hadn’t felt like giving him something to tell…

Hitting his head against the stone wall, Severus hissed in anger. If only he could have made something else up, or told a different part of the prophecy. If only he had believed a little bit more in Trelawney’s abilities. Her predictions had never really been anything but stabs at guesses for years until that night. But even though Snape was tempted to blame the Headmaster and Trelawney, he knew that it had been him that had killed the Potters…he had been the one to put his family in danger. He killed Lily…

Shaking his head, trying to get the images of the night out of his head, Severus pushed down his guilt and panic by occluding his mind. That was not going to help him now. At the moment, he had enough going on in his life then to add past mistakes to the list. He had to worry about the Headmaster finding out that Harry was his son and taking him away, had to worry about the Death Eaters finding a way to resurrect the Dark Lord, worry about he and his son getting killed by Death Eaters, had to worry about Harry in Slytherin, had to worry about Draco’s loyalties and feelings, and had to worry about how he was going to keep control this year… No, he did not need the past to occupy his mind.

Sighing once again, Severus looked back at the door and scowled. He had a lot of work to do tonight. He was just glad that he would not have been able to sleep anyway.

*******

As they walked from the Potions Master’s office, Harry followed Draco towards their new dorm. In two different study rooms that were off at different sides of the common room, Harry could see the two prefects that Snape had appointed giving specific speeches to the two groups of children. He wondered why his father wanted the two prefects giving the same lecture to be so far from each other, or that they had to separated at all. But then again, Harry was angry with his father at the moment and decided that the man was just stupid sometimes, like how he divided the two groups up.

Draco, on the other hand, did not pause to notice anything. The blonde stormed off, until he got to the stairs where he took them a bit slower as he twisted down the spiral staircase. Harry followed the other Slytherin and was amazed at the doors leading to the different rooms. There was one door that looked just a little bit different than the others, and alongside it was a statue of a woman. Neither boy knew who the woman was, but she held a potions beaker and wore a long cape the pooled around her feet. If she were not made of stone, the boys were sure she’d have been lovely.

Draco, however, was in no mood to admire anything, and Harry was almost as bad. Walking into the room, both boys stopped and stared at the sight that greeted them. Although the entire room was smaller than the dorm Harry had had last year, with only two people, there was certainly much more space. The floor was stone, but it had a beautiful green and silver carpet with Celtic knots and waves. There were wall hangings of the Slytherin crest and a tapestry of Merlin casting a spell. Straight ahead of them were their beds, two big, cushy looking beds with green curtains edged with silver. There were also two mahogany desks with matching chairs, one facing the left hand side, the other on the right along the walls. There were night stands, closets, dressers, anything anyone could need in a room it seemed. The room was also set up so that it could be evenly split down the middle if worse came to worse, Harry noted, and the two boys would not want to be on speaking terms. Probably one of his father’s brilliant ideas, Harry rolled his eyes.

“About time they remodeled this place,” Draco muttered sulkily before walking to his bed and flopping down, staring moodily at the wall, not even taking the time to look around the beautifully refurnished room.

Looking around the room, which just felt so large and spacious, Harry noticed that there was one door on his apparent side of the room that Draco did not have. Frowning, the boy stepped closer to it. Was it another closet, or perhaps it lead to the other dorm full of boys? Or it very well could be just a filled in door. One never knew with Hogwarts.

“What’s the matter with you, Potter,” Harry turned to find Draco scowling at him. “Never seen a lavatory door?”

Harry was about to growl back something not all too nice when a thought struck him. “We have our own lavatory in our room?”

The other boy looked over at his rival warily before frowning at Harry as though he were obviously stupid. “Yes, of course we have one. How else would we bathe? Or,” a mocking smile formed on the blonde's lips, “is that why all you Gryffindors stink? Because none of you’ve ever seen the loo?”

Getting angry, even though he knew Malfoy was just wanting to pull his chain, Harry scowled back at the other boy. “I wouldn’t know,” he lifted his chin to glare down at the other boy from down his nose, an act he had unconsciously picked up from his father this summer when the man got snippy. “I’m not a Gryffindor anymore.”

Harry’s words had the desired effect of deflating the other boy’s massive ego, but the bitterness behind his words caught Harry off guard, and he frowned at himself. He had not meant to sound so…frustrated, he supposed was the word.

Sitting down on his bed as well, Harry looked about the beautiful bedroom, soaking in all of the wonderful things that filled it. The only word that came to Harry’s mind that described the chamber was ‘cool’. It was not warm and bright like the Gryffindor Tower. As he sat there, Harry realized just how alienated he really was. Although he was sure that this felt like home to the other Slytherin, it certainly did not feel so to Harry. He wanted to go up in the tower, see the stars, open the windows, be with Ron, and Dean, and Neville, and everyone! He wanted to laugh with his friends again, not sit there in misery!

There was nothing left for it, Harry decided. He could not sit there forever and pout and cry. Standing up, he went over to his trunk and began the task of unpacking his things. He noticed that Malfoy was tracking him out of the corner of his eye, but Harry ignored it. He would have to get used to that, he supposed. No one was going to trust him here in Slytherin; and, quite frankly, Harry wasn’t about to trust any of them either. Why could his life never be simple?

After unpacking his things as well, Draco announced that he was going to shower, before he strode off, and slammed the door shut behind him. Glaring at the door, Harry listened as he heard sounds of the water running before he flopped himself on to his new bed and continued to glare, only this time up at the fabric above him.

Half an hour later, Draco came out dressed for bed, and flung himself in bed before drawing the curtains around him angrily. Harry waited a few minutes before he got up and used the washroom to get ready for bed. Staring at himself in the mirror, the former Gryffindor could not help but be disgusted with the face he saw. This was not him, this was a lie, and now he knew it was a lie too. The whole world would soon know it was a lie…wouldn’t they? What if everything fell apart now? What if he and his father couldn’t keep up with all the lies? What if Dumbledore found out?

Slamming his hands on the counter, Harry turned his back on the reflection of James Potter, and flopped into bed. Snuggling down into the blankets, he prayed that by some miracle, things would be better in the morning.

*******

That night was one of the worse Severus had had in a while. There were so many things running through his mind he didn’t know how he could possibly be thinking of them all. Mad-Eye Moody, one of the few men that he hated more than the Marauders and the Death Eaters, was here at Hogwarts, here to teach. The thought of having to see the man everyday disgusted Severus to the core. He was not sure he could handle seeing the old auror. He had already proven to himself that he did not handle seeing the man well tonight. Merlin, he had even threatened to quit!

And where would you have gone? A voice asked Severus when he shut the door to his chambers. He was an ex-Death Eater with a mark over him. At that moment, Severus was sure that Lucius Malfoy and other influential Death Eaters were discrediting his reputation; probably telling Fudge that he was some sort of child rapist to flush him out of Hogwarts once Dumbledore was forced to sack him. That’s what Severus would have done had he been in their position.

And what then if he had managed to leave Hogwarts without the Death Eaters knowing? They would have spread out over the country looking for him. He could have gone to Prince Manor as he had, after all, inherited the mansion. But Severus never liked going there. He had actually thought about selling the stupid place, but heritage and history kept him from doing so. And he was not sure he could have hidden there for long. Lucius knew where Prince Manner was, after all, although he did not know who the inheritor was. Lucius knew that it was “abandoned” and he would eventually think to search there as well.

There was a time when Severus would have thought about fleeing the country all together, but he knew he could not, especially now. Severus had essentially made an Unbreakable Vow with Lily after her death, promising that he would look after her son had kept him here in England, had helped keep him in the land of the living. But now, now that he knew Harry was really his son, Severus knew that he could never leave the child, especially after he had been resorted into Slytherin. Who would watch after the boy? Certainly not Dumbledore. At least not the way Severus knew the child needed to be watched after.

Sighing heavily, the Potions Master looked about his chaotic chambers with disgust. Severus Snape was known for his organization and to see his personal chambers in such disarray was infuriating for the man. By his fireplace, there were all of his things from Spinner’s End lying in a careless wreck from when he had flooed them here to Hogwarts the night he was found out as a spy. Somehow he had managed to forget about that mess after a time having had other things on his mind.

With a simple, tired wave of his hand, he sent all of the books flying to the shelves, all of the paper to his private, personal office, all of his potions to his lab to be stacked neatly on the shelves, and sent everything else to pack itself in a trunk in his bedroom closet. He would deal with all that later.

Walking around his chambers, the Potions Master felt a bit odd and yet content. Hogwarts had been his permanent home for almost the past thirteen years. It had been so odd to be away after so long, and now that he had been gone for more than a few days, it was odd to be back. It was comforting in a way…and yet terrible. If Dumbledore were to find out his secrets it would be here, and Severus was not sure that he would be able to go on without his son. No, no he would fight to keep his son!

After looking about his chamber for a bit, Severus set up wards all around his home again, making them stronger than the ones he had had before. He was certain the Headmaster had disconnected the floo line to his room with the exception of the other Hogwarts fireplaces like he had asked with summer. It would not due, after all, to one morning wake up to Death Eaters flooing into your home. After that was done, he looked at the clock. Almost midnight.

Taking a deep breath, the Head of Slytherin decided that it was time to look in on his son and godson. It would not due to have the two of them killing each other, now would it? There were moments when Severus questioned himself on that account, but he decided that he had only done what was for the best. If he could teach the two boys to tolerate each other early on rather than later it would save him headaches in the long run.

Walking out into the hall, Severus promptly changed his password before stalking off for the Slytherin common room. Although he often commented to the Headmaster that he hated the position of Head of House, even with the raised pay, he had to admit this year would go by much more smoothly with that power. Had he been just a regular professor, he would not have access to many of the secret passages that ran within the school and he would not be the one to have to look after Harry. Being Head of House ensured that his students, whether they hated him or not, had to be careful around him as he had the power to expel, and since the Slytherins knew that he was close to the Headmaster…they would all have to watch out for him this year.

Opening a secret passage that lead to the office within the Slytherin common room, Severus emerged after a moment in his sparse office. He never really used this office much since he had two others he liked to work in instead, plus a classroom. There had only been one other teacher in the history of Hogwarts that had been Potions Master and Head of House at the same time and Severus was certain that they must have felt the same as he did with regard to the abundance of work space. He thought it was quite ridiculous really. Minerva only had two offices; one in her classroom, one in her chambers, not three.

Severus usually only used this office to punish his Slytherins away from the other students, usually keeping the door open so the other Slytherins got the message that Snape was not to be toyed with. After all, he knew how the young Slytherins’ minds worked. And despite what the rest of the Houses believed, Snape actually did punish his own students and rarely let them off the hook. Severus was of the mind that his Slytherins were, in a sense, abused and persecuted enough and did not need the other Houses to jeer at them because their Head of House screamed at them. No, Severus handed out his detentions and lectures to his Slytherins in the privacy of their common room, so not to hurt their tender egos too much. He knew his students were judged immediately by their Houses, and ever since he had become a professor at Hogwarts, he had worked to protect them from the sting of the outside world without babying them too much. He had been their champion, the only professor that any of them felt they could go to that wouldn’t judge them, even if he did punish them from time to time.

Shaking his head, trying not to think about such things at the moment, Severus made his way out of his office, please to see that there was no one in the common room. It appeared everyone was following his schedule, same as every year. He prayed that the students would at least continue to respect him, even if he had betrayed the Dark Lord…or at least fear him, either way would be sufficient.

Forcing himself to walking down the staircase, slowly, the Potions Master came to the room that had been added to accommodate Harry and Draco. Opening the door soundlessly, the professor perceived that it was dark. That was good, that meant the boys were more than likely asleep already. That was well, because Severus did not want the children to be awake when he got there.

Taking out his wand, the Head of Slytherin began the work of warding the room. He placed spell after spell all around, just to make sure that if the boys got into a fight, they could not seriously harm one another. It was tiring work, but he managed to do it to his own satisfaction before he had to quit before he harmed his magical core. In fact, he began to sway slightly from exhaustion.

Ignoring his weariness, Severus walked over to a bed, sensing that it was his son. He had always felt a spark whenever Harry was near, and it had taken this summer to figure out that it was the mythical parental spark that some wizards have. It worked as a sort of bond to help the parents find their child if one of their children ever got lost. It was interesting to Severus that he felt such a strong bond with his son, a son he had not even known he’d lost. Was there any limit to the wonder of magic?

Pulling back the curtains silently, Severus lit his wand and peered down at his child. Harry was sound asleep, his messy hair splayed all over his pillow. A smile formed on the father’s face. Not even Severus could deny the affection he felt towards his son. Sleeping, Harry looked so young, so vulnerable. A wave of protectiveness swept over the Potions Master like a wave on the beach. He would not let anything happen to his child. He would protect Harry until his dying breath. “I promise you, Lily,” Severus whispered in the dark as he lightly stroked his son’s hair. “I will not let anything else hurt him.” His black eyes hardened with determination. “I would die for him.”

With that promise made, the Potions Master departed as the clock struck two. He had other work to do, other things to work on…

*******

In the morning, when Harry first woke up, he panicked. Why couldn’t he see? He calmed himself almost immediately as he remembered that he no longer had his perfect vision, that he was a Potter again. So he went to grab his glasses, only to discover that there were green curtains in his way. That’s when it hit him: he was in Slytherin now. Last night had really happened. He was a Slytherin…

Peeling back the curtains, Harry shoved his glasses on his nose, and looked about the cold dungeon dorm. His heart pounded as he truly realized that he was in the viper’s layer now. How he longed to be in the lions’ den!

Grabbing his wand, Harry lit it with a simple lumos before glancing over at Draco. The other boy was still sleeping- thank Merlin- but when he looked over at the clock, he realized that it was only six in the morning. He was still in the habit of waking early thanks to his father. But the thought of the Head of Slytherin infuriated Harry, and he decided to push aside all thoughts of his new father and went to get ready for the day.

After only a seven minute shower- Harry didn’t want to keep Malfoy waiting too long, as he was not sure what the other boy would do if angered- the young Snape hopped out and quickly got dressed and when through the usually morning activities. Looking over at the mirror again, Harry didn’t know what to think. James Potter’s- the man that he had always thought of as his father- face was looking back at him, as though James was mocking him, and Harry wanted to get rid of it. He did not want to be reminded of how terrible that man had been to his father. Yet his true father, Severus Snape, was a bad tempered, sarcastic man that had willingly made his son’s worst enemy Harry’s roommate and then went on to lecture him about not hurting Draco!

At the moment, Harry didn’t know who he really wanted for a father. Deep in his heart he knew, but he was angry with Snape, hurt that his father, the first adult that had ever really cared about him, would suddenly turn his back on him and betray him. Where was the man that had stood up to the Dursleys on Harry’s behalf? Where was the man that had taken care of the neighborhood bullies? Where was the man that fought with the Albus Dumbledore, fighting to keep Harry away from the Dursleys? Where was the man that had given him a real home, a normal life for the summer? Where was the father that had been relatively patient with him, had talked and told him to truth, had even comforted him? That man had slithered back into the shadows in hiding, apparently, and was going to let everything go back to the way it had been.

But I don’t want things to go back to the way they were! Harry thought desperately. He did not want to be angry with his father, but he was. Making him live with Draco Malfoy was like sending him off the Azkaban…only worse. Draco hated him, and he didn’t care much for the billionaire brat either, and his father knew that! He knew! And yet, Snape had threatened to quit Hogwarts if the new professor, Moody, stayed. Harry was certain he could not survive his school year if his father left!

Sighing, Harry decided that he had nothing left to do but go down to the Great Hall and forget about his problems for at least as long as he could. He did not want to be here when the other Slytherin woke anyway. Who knew what they’d do to him if they saw him. Harry shivered at the thought.

Upon opening the door, Harry almost fell backward and screamed. But the hand around his arm and another over his mouth effectively stopped both from happening. Looking up, Harry beheld the familiar wall of black towering over him. He sagged with relief when he realized that it was just his father.

Severus, for his part, had been waiting for his son to emerge from his dorm room for over half an hour, and had been afraid that he would have to go wake the boy up. He was going to when the door opened and out stepped his son. He had stalked enough people in his line of work to know that Harry would cry out, so instinctively, he had grabbed the boy and silenced him when Harry realized that there was someone there. Severus knew he should probably be ashamed of how he had obtained his skill, but it did come in handy…

Releasing his son, Severus pressed his pointer finger to his lips, indicating that Harry should be quiet before he walked off, expecting his son to follow. Thankfully, the boy got the message and followed his father out of the dorm, out the door, and together, the Potions Master and the new Slytherin student walked on in silence down the hall. They walked for some ways before finally they came to the potions office, and Snape let Harry in.

Upon shutting the door, Severus spun around on his son and looked the child over. It was quite a change to see that face, the face of James Potter, wearing the colors of Slytherin. It was oddly satisfying in a way. The colors went so much better with the child’s eyes…

“Did you want something, sir?” the boy’s cold question caught Severus unguarded for a moment. He had been use to familiar conversation with Harry over the last month or so and realized now that it was going to be a struggle in maintaining their act of hatred for one another. That is, at least for him. Harry seemed able to slip into their old habits well enough. It hurt Severus to recognize that.

“I wanted to know if you had any trouble last evening,” he made sure to keep his voice neutral.

“No, not really,” Harry’s tone was barely civil.

Raising an eyebrow at the tart responses, Snape found that his temper was starting to raise its ugly head up. “Indeed,” he went around his desk and sat down. “So you are telling me that you are finding the arrangements comfortable?”

“No!” Harry all but shouted.

Scowling, Severus looked over his child. It would so much easier if he could see the child’s true face! Every time he stared at Harry now, all he could see was James Potter glaring at him, and that never did his temper any good. Careful Severus or you’ll say something you will regret, he warned himself sternly.

“Then tell me what’s troubling you,” the professor demanded. “What has Draco done?”

“It’s not him, it’s you!” Harry blurted out before he could stop himself.

The room fell silent. Harry looked over at his father with wide, horrified eyes. How could he have just said that to Snape, of all people? This man had done terrible things to students over the years for less than what Harry had just said. And by the shocked expression on Snape’s normally stoic face, Harry knew that he was about to get into some serious trouble. The old Snape was back, after all. He wouldn’t feel bad about punishing Harry Potter again.

Regaining his composure, Severus folded his hands on top of his desk professionally and scowled at the boy before him. “Indeed?” he asked again, one eyebrow rose.

“I-I didn’t mean it t-the way it came out,” Harry fumbled around for words.

Looking up at the formidable wizard before him, Harry could tell that his father was not at all pleased with him at the moment. The once hated face had become stern and all but emotionless, the same as it always had this past summer when Harry had said something stupid. He knew that his father was trying to cover up some emotion that he was hiding, but Harry could never tell what it was.

But today, he noticed that the Potions Master looked utterly exhausted. Although Harry was sure he could not have been able to tell several months ago, now that he knew his father, he could tell that the man was tired. There was grimness to him, a hardening, as though his father were trying to deny the fatigue he felt. There was stiffness to the man as well, his shoulders too square and his back too straight… There were dark circles under his eyes; the dark purple contrasting sharply with the pale skin. Harry suddenly felt terrible for having been so thoughtless with his words before.

“I see,” Severus said quietly. “Well, be that as it may, you will have to handle that as best as you can. This year is not going to be easy for you, Harry. The both of us must keep on constant alert, no matter what happens. We must not show our true regard for one another, whatever that may be, and we must act our respective parts.

“I as I said before, I will escort you every morning to the Great Hall for breakfast and back here today so you may retrieve your books. Tomorrow on you will have to bring your work with you in the mornings. You may either come to me in the dungeons and wait until classes begin, or you stay with your friends…if you can. And once classes are finished, you will go to the Great Hall for lunch before resuming classes and then go to dinner. I will escort you to the dorm after dinner unless you have previous engagements or we find a better plan.”

Letting his head fall, Harry tried hard not to scream in frustration. This was totally unfair! He hadn’t done anything, and now he was resorted away from his friends, his father was being a git, he had to room with the one person in Hogwarts he hated most, and now he had to basically hold daddy’s hand and follow him around! It was too ridiculous, and Harry found that he was growing more and more frustrated with all of these events. It wasn’t fair!

“Do I have to?” he asked quietly.

“You want me to leave you prey to your new house?” Snape scoffed, falling into old habits.

Letting his head fall again, Harry looked down at his shoes with an intensity that made it clear to his father that he was not going to answer. Finding that he was having little patience with the boy at the moment, Severus took the opportunity to take several deep breaths before speaking again. He just knew he was going to lose his temper again, and the boy didn’t need an abusive professor at the moment.

“Tonight we’ll make a schedule,” Severus repeated quietly.

Standing to walk around his desk, Severus was stopped by the small voice from beside him that said, “All this just isn’t a dream?”

Halting immediately, the Head of Slytherin looked back over to his son. “No,” he shook his head lightly. “No, this is not a dream.”

“I won’t wake up and find myself in some old cupboard?” Harry’s voice was small and weak.

With his heart bleeding for the boy, Severus turned to face his emotionally distressed child. “No,” he said soothingly. “No more cupboards for you. Not ever.” His body stiffened from anger at the thought of the Dursleys and what they had done to this child.

“But I’ll still wake up in the snake hole.”

Severus had to close his eyes from the slight against his house. He was quite proud of his house, proud to be from the noble House of Slytherin, and yet he was always distressed when others talked poorly about it. Now listening to his son so distressed talking about his house in such a way hurt Severus more than he cared to admit. When had he gotten so soft? Perhaps when you had to stop using anger around the boy, the professor couldn’t decide if it was his conscience speaking or logic.

“I’m afraid you will,” the Potions Master answered quietly.

“But you’ll still be here, won’t you?” Harry looked up with terrified green eyes that stabbed his father in the heart. “You’re not quitting? Not because of Moody?”

There was a moment when Severus longed to forget himself, longed to grab his child and embrace him the way he knew the child so desperately needed to be. But there was a part of him that could not. Harry had only ever once sought out Severus for physical comfort and that had only been a spontaneous event brought on by sheer distress. Although it was painful to admit, the Potions Master knew that his son was still not quite comfortable with physical contact just yet, especially with him, with their history and all. But even with all of the facts present, Severus could not banish his own longing.  Seeing those desperate green eyes was worse than staring a displeased Voldemort in the eyes.

“Harry,” Severus’s voice was low, soothing, yet full of emotion. But that was enough. The child launched himself into his father’s arms, grabbing the professor around the waist tightly, as though the man was the only lifeline he had.

Momentarily shocked, Severus just stared down at the boy clinging to him, and for a moment he thought perhaps he was dreaming as well. But after a moment, he gave into instinct, and wrapped his arms around his child, holding Harry to his chest as though he were not a fourteen-year-old boy, but a child much younger. Unknowingly, Severus began to sway on his feet gently, cupping Harry’s head with his hand while his other arm was still protectively wrapped around the boy’s middle.

“Please…don’t go,” Harry’s muffled plea cut into Severus’s heart.

“I am not going anywhere,” the elder Snape murmured softly.

“I mean it,” Harry cried. “I don’t want you to go. You said you’d go if Moody stayed.”

 Guilt surged through the Potions Master like a cold poison, freezing his veins and making him feel ill. “I say many things, Harry,” Severus worked hard not to let his emotions over power him. “I just say many things.”

“But I saw him glare at you!” Now Severus could feel tears soaking into his shirt, but he did not care. “And you said that he hated you!”

“That’s none of your concern,” Severus continued to sway. “Hush now, child. There’s nothing for you to worry about. I’m not leaving you. Ever.”

Harry began to still, his sniffling quieting, but he did not lessen his hold of his father, and Severus would have it no other way. They stood there for several minutes longer, neither one speaking. Severus carded his hand through his son’s messy hair affectionately, rejoicing in the physical display of love his son was showing him.

After another moment, Harry lessened his grasp around his father, enough that Severus could see the boy’s face, and embarrassment. “Are you ready to go to the Great Hall, Mr. Snape?” Severus asked after an awkward moment. He was still getting use to being a father as much as Harry was getting use to being a son.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, wiping his eyes. “I’m…I’m sorry about that. I really didn’t mean-”

“There is nothing to be sorry for,” Severus said sternly, wanting to make sure the boy knew he bore no resentment. “Come, let us go.”

And following his father, Harry went to face his first day as a Slytherin student.

1994

The whole way to the Great Hall was a silent affair. Harry wanted to talk to his father several times, but the Potions Master was grave and silent, and the younger Snape had to concentrate on keeping up with his father’s long strides. It was actually tiring trying to keep up with the professor. Although Harry knew his father was tall and had long legs, he had not thought his father had that long of legs. But he did his best and when Severus stopped before the doors to the Great Hall, Harry only had to take ten more steps before he was next to the man.

It appeared Severus noticed his son’s struggle to keep up, and he waited a moment for Harry before he pushed open the doors. It was still pretty early in the morning, but there were a few students and more teachers in the Hall. Following his father again, feeling uncomfortable in his Slytherin green, Harry walked almost down the complete length of the Slytherin table before Professor Snape stopped.

Pointing with his long fingered, white hand that stood out vividly from his black clothes, Severus motioned to a spot at the table. “Sit here, close to the end where I will be able to watch you,” his deep voice was quiet, yet sharp. More than once had Harry wondered how his father could speak in such a way, but then, he had learned from experience that questioning Snape was usually folly. The man never gave out his secrets.

Nodding, the new Slytherin sat down where his father had indicated and looked around for something to eat. Just then, he saw a flash of red and gold. Looking up, he saw Hermione and Ron coming towards him. Although he had never been gladder to see them in his life, he also was not sure he wanted them around at the moment. Not so soon after having a breakdown in from of his father. Merlin, he had cried all over the man! He was lucky Snape hadn’t given him a detention for that.

“Harry!” Hermione threw herself at the other boy, crushing him in a hug. “Harry, are you all right?”

“Easy, Hermione!” Harry tried to keep from falling over.

“You all right, mate?” Ron looked over his friend critically. “When they going to fix this mistake? Have they told you yet?” Ron’s nose scrunched up in disgust as he looked at the Slytherin badge on his friend’s clothes.

“You look pale!” Hermione went on.

“Guys, please!” Harry gave an uneasy chuckle. This all really did feel like a dream. “Sit down a minute, huh?”

The two Gryffindors did as they were told and stared at Harry, waiting for him to speak, their faces expectant. This year will kill me, Harry thought miserably.

“Well?” Ron stared at his best friend. “When is this all going to get cleared up? When are you coming back to the Tower?”

Taking a deep breath, Harry decided there was no use in delaying the truth; it was time to take the plunge. “I’m not coming back to the Tower, Ron.” Horror flickered over Ron and Hermione’s faces. “I’ve been sorted into Slytherin now, and that’s where I’ve got to stay.”

“What?!” Ron stood up so fast, he almost fell over. Hermione started to cry.

Looking around nervously, Harry saw the other students that were already there look over at him. He snuck a glance at the Head Table and found that Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore were watching them as well. But it was when Harry felt the pair of obsidian eyes burning into him that he knew he had to get things under control. Severus didn’t look as though he’d had a very good night, and if Harry didn’t get control over his friends, then Snape would.

“Sit down, for Merlin’s sake!” Harry hissed and leaned over to pull Ron back down.

“What do you mean you’re staying in Slytherin?” Ron demanded the moment his bottom touched the bench again. “That can’t be right! You’re a Gryffindor! You’re…you’re Harry Potter!”

Although he knew he should have expected that, Harry winced at the name. No, he was no longer Harry Potter, he wasn’t really even Harry anymore. He was Severin. Severin Harrison Tiberius Snape, son of Severus T. Snape. He was a Snape now, not a Potter. He was lucky though that Hermione thought his action was due to Ron’s harsh tone and from the bitterness of being placed in Slytherin rather than just the name itself.

“Ron, please?” Hermione looked over at the redhead with pleading eyes, willing the other boy to sit quiet for a moment and calm down.

“It’s not like I asked to be resorted,” Harry said quietly. “I…I don’t know how this all happened.”

“You’ve been a snake in lions clothing all this time, haven’t you?” Ron scowled.

“Ronald!” Hermione turned at hit the other Gryffindor in the arm. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying, Harry.”

Looking down at the table, Harry shook his head. “No, Hermione…he’s right, in a way.” The other two children looked horrified again. “I told you guys that the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin first year…I guess it just really wanted to put me here.”

Ron was about to start shouting again, when a hand landed on his shoulder. The redhead threw it off angrily and turned around to face the person that dared to stop his tirade when he met a wall of black. Looking up slowly, the youngest Weasley boy found himself looking into the very angry face of Professor Snape. There was a vicious scowl on the Potions Master’s face as he glared down at the two Gryffindors.

“P-Professor Snape,” Ron tried to keep his voice from trembling too much.

As Harry predicted, Severus was not in the mood to be understanding, and without waiting another minute, the professor grabbed Ron by his collar and lifted him up out of his seat before placing him back down on the floor. “Come, Granger!” he barked as he drug off Ron. Hermione was deathly pale, but she jumped to obey the Potions Master and Harry watched in a worried fascination as his father drug off his two best friends. Although Harry did not want his friends hurt or want them to get detentions, he certainly could not deny the fact that he wished his father would give Ron a good scaring.

Looking back down at his still empty plate, Harry sighed and began filling it with breakfast. He wasn’t really hungry at the moment, but he knew he had to eat something. It was the first day of school and all, and after eating regularly for a month, the boy knew that he would get hungry later on and regret not eating. He felt a bit spoiled actually to finally be on a rather normal eating schedule.

It was when Harry was buttering his toast that Malfoy came in.

*******

Once out in an empty part of the hallway, Severus took the two obnoxious Gryffindors into a side out cove and could not help but be furious with them. “What did you think you were doing?” he barked.

“Sir, w-we were just-” Hermione tried to speak.

“Couldn’t stay out of trouble, could we?” Snape interrupted.

“Sir, we were just trying to talk to Harry. Honest!” Hermione pleaded.

“Your plea to honesty isn’t very convincing,” Snape sneered at the two children. “It looked like you were trying to harass one of my students from where I was sitting,” he glared pointedly at Weasley.

Although Ron was still hot, his temper was cooling quickly as the Potions Master continued to glare at him. For a moment, the young Weasley could have sworn that there were snakes crawling out from under Snape's robes like he was some sort of demon, a popular image among the students, as they looked at Snape as something of a mythical creature. The man was just scary; it was as plain and simple as that. By the time Ron actually looked up into the professor’s pale face, his temper was gone and Ron found himself scared.

“Harry’s our friend…sir,” Ron tried to speak up. “We…we just wanted-”

“Yelling and insulting him and his House is not something that I count as ‘talking’,” Severus spat. “Ten points will be taken from Gryffindor. Now, back into the Great Hall with you! Before I give you each a detention.”

Both children jumped and all but ran back into the Hall. Although he knew what he had done was a bit harsh, and would probably get an earful about it later from McGonagall, Severus knew he could not let anyone believe him weak this year. He simply could not afford to look nice or even somewhat approachable. He was going to be fairer this year with the students, he had vowed that, but when it came to Harry, Severus knew he had to be strict. No one could find out the truth of the matter, especially nosy little Gryffindors that wouldn’t be able to keep their mouths shut. He would have to talk to Harry about all that later.

Taking advantage of the opportunity of being alone, Severus sighed deeply. This year was not going to go smoothly at all. At least when he had been a spy he had had some sense of familiarity and order since Albus knew everything that was going on and he had had help in that matter. But this year Severus was sailing alone in uncharted waters. As if trying to figure out parenthood alone wasn’t hard enough, he had to worry about people coming to kill and/or harm him and his child, and sprinkled on top of that was the fact that no one could even know he had a son.

Sighing again, Severus turned back around just in time to see Draco walking into the Great Hall.

*******

Staring at Draco, Harry was fascinated to see that the blonde plopped himself right by Harry. There was a nasty scowl on the blonde’s face, one that Harry knew he had created on the other boy. But what confused Harry was the fact that the other Slytherin was even near him at all. Malfoy hated him! Wouldn’t he want to spend as much time away from Harry as possible? Especially now that they roomed together?

“Listen, Potter,” Draco wasted no time. “Snape said that we were responsible for each other’s actions, and that if you got yourself hurt, I would be the one getting blamed even if I didn’t have anything to do with how you got yourself hurt. Same goes for you if I get hurt.”

Harry watched the other boy distrustfully. What was Malfoy playing at? Did he have something up his sleeve?  “What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry asked after a moment. He was too tired and stressed to play any guessing games, and he did not feel like playing “I know something you don’t know” with the blonde.

Scowling darker, Draco stared at the other boy for a moment before sighing. “Look, we can’t do anything to each other because Snape will have both our heads. You, despite the fact that you think you’re so great, need my protection from the other Slytherins in the House. They don’t like that you’re here, and quite frankly, I don’t like it either.”

“So then, what do you get out of this?” Harry growled, feeling the insults as they were intended. “You just want me on a leash?”

“What I get,” Draco hissed. “Is protection from you from the Gryffindors.”

Of all the things Malfoy could have said, that was actually not one of the things Harry had expected. He had known that the other Slytherins hated him, that none of them had wanted him in their House, but it had never occurred to Harry that Draco, his roommate, would need to be protected from Harry’s old House. Thinking on it, the young Snape knew that his old Gryffindor House mates probably saw all this as some sort of curse placed on him that was due to no fault of his own. And even if they were angry with Harry for being in Slytherin now, they would not let the Slytherins pick on Harry out of pride for someone that had been in their House. And if they knew Draco was his new roommate… well, they might not like that idea much.

“I…hadn’t thought about that,” Harry admitted before kicking himself. Slytherins were known for their cunning, their strategy...  to admit not thinking through something like this was a sign of weakness. Malfoy was probably sneering at him.

And although Draco did think it was a stupid thing to admit, he realized now just how vulnerable Harry really was in his new House. Not one person in Slytherin was going to make the black haired boy’s life easy. None of them wanted to, really. A jolt of pity shot through Draco so fast that he didn’t have time to catch it, and he was left with the uncomfortable feeling of compassion…at least for a moment. He sure as hell did not like Harry, and he was not prepared to help the other boy more than was necessary. Besides, he was only helping out this much because Snape would not feel bad for punishing him if Potter decided to make himself an easy target. Bastard! The blonde looked up at the Head Table where Snape was walking around the table to sit to breakfast.

“Well, you better start thinking, Potter,” Malfoy growled, “or you’re bound to get both of us into a situation we don’t want.”

It was odd for Harry to listen to Malfoy talk as though he were conspiring with him instead of against him. It was actually odd to hear anything out of the blonde’s mouth that was not a direct insult or snide remark when it came to talking to Harry, but the new Slytherin found himself appreciating it. It was lucky Draco had not witnessed Ron’s outburst or he might not want to make this deal at all.

“Right,” Harry nodded. “Maybe…maybe we should…you know, keep within sight of each other when we can. You know, just to make sure our…respective, uh, groups don’t get any ideas?”

Frowning, Draco looked over the other boy over suspiciously. Potter had admitted not thinking of the possibilities of both of them needing protection, and Potter had trusted him in all of this… “All right. Sounds like a…decent plan,” he nodded.

“Truce then?” Harry held out his hand.

Looking into the green eyes of his enemy, Draco was struck with seeing something there that he had never seen before in Potter. There was a certain…something in his eyes, a look that portrayed confidence while still holding on to some sort of secret. It was a look that Draco had seen often enough in his godfather’s eyes, something that he understood better now. It was rather uncomfortable for the young Malfoy to see such a look about his rival, but he could not think of what Potter had to hide other than what the Headmaster told him to hide…perhaps he could get it out of Potter eventually?

 “Very well,” Draco sighed. “A truce, I suppose.”

The two fourth years shook hands before Draco got up from his seat and went to a different section of the table to sit with his friends. Left alone, Harry sighed and began picking his plate and taking nibbles of food. Although he was not sure why, he found himself sorry that he had to be alone again. He had been looking forward to coming to school to be around people his own age. His father had surprisingly been good company over the month that they had lived in Wales together, but now here he was at Hogwarts, in a place packed with kids his own age, and none of them wanted anything to do with him! His friends were mad at him, the Gryffindors felt a bit betrayed by him, and the Slytherins wanted to kill him. None of the other Houses were likely to get too close to him either since none of them had really been his friends before.

Looking up at the Head Table, Harry found that his father was watching him, though Severus was trying not to show it. It was actually a pretty convincing act, one that the boy was sure the Headmaster and the other professors could not see, but because he was looking and because of his angle, Harry knew the Potions Master was watching. Always silently watching, just waiting for trouble so he could strike. It was creepy at times to think about how he was always watched, and yet it comforted Harry to realize that his father was always going to be there to watch out for him.

When everyone seemed to be in the Great Hall, and everyone was almost done eating, the Heads of Houses got up from their seats and began handing out the scheduling for the new term. As Snape stalked past him, Harry had to shiver. Seeing Severus in this setting again almost whipped away the month they had spent together as all Harry could see now was the dreaded Potions Master, the man that he had hated for three years running. The professor’s brusque manner and his slight sneer didn’t help Harry’s confidence in the man either, but he tried to convince himself that it was just Snape playing his part. It was all an act, and he had better start playing his part too.

Looking down at the parchment before him, Harry had to fight to keep from groaning. History of Magic, the very first thing on a Monday! What horror! Who was the brilliant person that came up with this, Harry really wanted to know.

Down towards the end of the table, there were several, rather loud, groans that escaped some of the other fourth year Slytherins. Mutters and curses were said, but the overall table was much calmer than the Gryffindor table. Actually, now that Harry was away from his normal group, he realized just how loud his former House really was. No wonder his father always sneered at Gryffindor decibels, it was true!    

Looking over to where Ron and Hermione sat with Neville and Ginny, Harry sighed. He wished he could be with his friends again. But he could not. Maybe if he explained everything…but then Ron wasn’t all that good at keeping secrets unless someone watched him every moment he was awake. Between Harry and Hermione, they had been able to keep Ron from blurting out secrets in the past, but now that Harry wasn’t there to watch him in the dorms…it just wouldn’t work out. Dumbledore would smell something was up anyway, if Ron and Hermione just started acting normal right away again after this morning’s outburst. No, Harry’s secret was best left a secret between himself and his father.

When Dumbledore made some announcements that were commonly given at the Beginning of the Year Feast that Harry supposed were postponed the night before, the students all went on their ways to get ready for their first day of classes. As he was getting up, he noticed that Dumbledore was watching him, his blue eyes dancing with something that Harry had learned meant that he was thinking something, something the younger wizard was sure he wasn’t going to like very much.

Turning around, Harry bumped into something in front of him. As he started to fall backwards, he felt a strong, familiar grip around his arm. Looking up, he saw his father standing over him. The man was slicker than a weasel and more silent than an owl in flight. It was really surprising to Harry now that he had never thought of the man as a spy before. He really was perfect for it. But Harry could not help but curse himself for being caught by surprise. That was the second time that day!

“Watch yourself, Potter,” Severus’s voice cut through Harry’s musings like a whip cracking the air.

“Sorry, sir,” Harry mumbled, wincing at his father’s sharp tone.

“Hurry up, Potter! I don’t have all day.”

With that, the professor and the student walked down into the dungeons, Harry struggling to match the Potions Master’s long stride yet again. Now that the act was on, Harry noticed that Snape’s cloak billowed just a little bit more than it had this morning. In fact, this morning, the infamous black cloak had billowed in a graceful, almost soothing kind of motion, as though the wearer were more at ease. Now, however, Snape resumed the title of “dungeon bat,” his cloak flapping out like the erratic flight of a bat.

The two went into the common room where several students were waiting on friends or organizing their bags. When the majority of them saw Snape, they scowled, some flinched, but none of them looked particularly pleased to see their Head of House. In fact, several of the older students looked as though they were contemplating murder at that very moment, but Snape did not seem to pay much attention to them. But Harry knew that his father was always aware of everything going on around him, especially when it came to his own domain, and the Slytherin common room happened to be in his jurisdiction.

“Go get your things, Potter,” Severus growled. He noticed Mr. Malfoy was going down there as well, and if Draco was smart, he would watch out for Harry. He had seen the two boys this morning talking, and from what he could tell, they seemed to have come to some sort of agreement between them. Although Severus was not a master at it, he could read enough of Draco’s lips, and Harry’s as well, to know that they were coming to some sort of truce for the time being. That was good, that meant that Severus didn’t have to worry as much.

Harry ran down the stairs after Draco, and the two boys silently went about packing their bags. Draco looked angry, much like he was the night before, and Harry realized that the other Slytherin probably hadn’t forgiven the Potions Master quite yet, or he was probably mad about history being first thing. Whatever the case, as long as the other boy did not bother him, Harry was fine with it. He could tolerate Malfoy if he was angry and silent. It was when the other boy was condescending, arrogant, and a downright arse when Harry wanted to punch in the blonde’s face.

Done before Draco, Harry looked out the door to find that no one was there. Quickly, he ran up the stairs and back into the common room where he still saw Snape standing right where he was. The Potions Master looked completely different as he stood there now than from when he had been their earlier that morning. There was no concern on his face, no softness, no nothing that would suggest that this man felt anything at all. It was intimidating, but Harry kept repeating to himself that it was all an act, that his father really did care for him. If Severus didn’t care, then he wouldn’t have bothered to hide the fact that Harry was his son, right? He would not have cared what Dumbledore told him to do or what not to do with regards to Harry, right?

Bowing his head, mumbling another, “Yes, sir,” the two Snapes walked out of the dorm and back down the hall. The younger Slytherin, the first years particularly, seemed to make it a priority not to get in the way of their Head of House. For the first time, Harry actually saw that the Slytherins all feared the Potions Master as much as everyone else did; that even though the man had been their champion, they were still very much concerned with making him angry. It was funny, all the Gryffindors had thought that the Slytherins all worshiped Snape and Snape pampered them. It appeared that the wizard did not spoil his brood as much as everyone thought.

Almost to the history room, Snape stopped by an out cove and pulled Harry aside. “Will you be all right?” he asked. There was just the barest hint of worry in his deep voice.

A small smiled found its way onto Harry’s lips as he nodded. “Yeah. I think I’ll be okay. Malfoy said he’d keep the others off my back.”

“And what did he want in return?” his father’s obsidian eyes lit with suspicion and distrust. It seemed he knew all too well how the Malfoy mind worked.

“He just wanted me to keep the Gryffindors away from him when they found out we were roommates,” Harry shrugged, hoping that it looked like he wasn’t nervous or concerned.

Of course Severus saw right through that act, but he did not press the matter. “We must talk tonight. The Headmaster wishes to have a meeting with you after supper, and I would like to talk to you before then.”

Trying desperately not to groan, Harry nodded, his glasses slipping down his nose a bit. “Okay. What time?”

Pride shot through Severus like a lightning bolt at that moment. Harry was young, only fourteen years old, still a boy, but he was handling the resent changes far better than Severus had expected. There was no whining from the boy, not groaning, no complaining, no anything; Harry simple took what was dealt to him. It was a trait that the Potions Master knew came from his side of things, but Harry was able to take everything in better because he had Lily’s overall disposition. The poor child did not deserve the life he had had . No, Harry should have been allowed to have kept his parents and grow up normally. Had Albus not interfered then Lily would probably still be alive! And Severus would still be married to her, and they might even have had more children…

Reining in his temper before he exposed himself, Severus only nodded to his son, wishing he could just break those awful glasses his son wore and turn the child back into his son again. How wonderful the summer had been when Harry had been allowed to be his son! Although it had been uncomfortable and awkward at first, it really was the best summers Severus had had in over fourteen years.

“Very well,” Severus nodded again. “Meet me in my office at six o’clock. Dinner will be served at seven, and right after dinner, the Headmaster will wish to speak to you.”

“You’ll be there, won’t you?” the boy looked up at his father with wide, fearful eyes.

His heart breaking, Severus nodded. “Always. Now, go to class, and keep within Draco’s sights, just in case.”

Nodding, Harry watched as his father regained his mask of coldness as he stormed away, back down into the dungeons, his robe billowing in his wake. Sighing only once, Harry walked into the history classroom, glad that no one had seen him talking to his father. Even if someone had, they probably would have thought that the Potions Master was just making some kind of threat to him since Harry was new to the House and wasn’t use to the “Slytherin way” of doing things.

Sitting down near the front of the room, Harry readied himself for a long, awkward, fearfully boring class. Professor Binns floated in and began an odiously dull lecture over The Great Goblin Civil War.

*******

After a terribly long, and boring history class, Harry was supposed to have Care of Magical Creatures class outside with the Gryffindors, only to discover that the class for the day had been canceled. There had been a note with an excuse about something the Headmaster wanted done. Harry had felt a bit sick to learn this, as Dumbledore would not have a class canceled on the first day back to school unless there was something really dangerous or important going on. Did it have something to do with him? If so, why would Hagrid need to be involved?

But pushing that aside, Harry tried to meet up with Ron and Hermione anyway. He headed for the library after losing Draco in the crowd. He had tried to follow the other boy, just like they had somewhat agreed, but had given up on it after a while. In the library, Harry caught sight of the familiar bushy hair of his friend walking around a corner to a table. The new Slytherin jumped to follow.

“Hermione!” Harry whispered. “Hey, Hermione?”

The girl turned around and gasped in surprise when she saw the other boy. “Harry! You scared me,” she held a hand over her heart.

“Sorry,” Harry apologized quickly. There was an awkward silence. “Hey, you know class was canceled?” he tried to think of something to say.

“Um, yeah. I know. That’s why I’m here and not there,” she gave an uneasy smile.

“Right,” Harry felt particularly stupid. “So…can we go somewhere to talk?”

“Oh! Yeah, right,” Hermione nodded, leading the way to a work table. Once they were seated, the Gryffindor had no problems rushing in. “Harry, what’s going on? I mean really? Are you all right? You look terrible!”

“Thanks,” the Slytherin rolled his eyes playfully.

“I didn’t mean-”

“I was only kidding, Hermione, it’s all right,” Harry tried to calm his friend before they alerted Madam Pince of trouble. “I just got done with history, really.”

“Oh,” the girl nodded. “I can see that. It usually wears you down, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Another silence fell over them, but this one was less uncomfortable, but no less awkward. “Harry, are you all right with this? I mean…to be resorted? It’s never been done! Why would the Hat just resort you?”

Knowing that she was only concerned for his well being, Harry thought she deserved to get some kind of answer, even if he couldn’t tell her the whole truth. “It’s weird…I mean, one minute I think I’m who I always thought I was and then the next minute I’m told I’m someone else completely different…” his mind slipped back into the summer events, but Hermione thought he was talking about the changing from Gryffindor to Slytherin. She had no way of knowing that Harry was thinking of changing from a Potter to a Snape.

“I guess it was a shock,” Harry went on. “I still can’t believe it, but I’ll get use to it. I’m going to have to.” He looked down at his hands. “I guess I changed more over the summer than I had thought. I guess I just started to see things differently after I…I left the Dursleys…after Professor Snape came. Something must have just…snapped in me.”

“And that’s why you’ve been resorted? You think the Hat knew?”Hermione asked softly.

“It’s a possibility,” Harry shrugged.

“What’s going on here?” asked a voice from behind. Looking back, Harry and Hermione saw Ron standing there, his arms crossed angrily.

“Hey, Ron,” Harry tired to smile at his best friend. He had been encouraged by Hermione’s openness to make him bold enough to try and encounter Ron again.

“What are you doing hanging out with a lowly Gryffindor muggle-born?” the redhead growled.

“What?” Harry was actually completely shocked. “Ron, what are you-”

Next to him, Hermione’s face had gone completely red. “Lay off him Ron, he just-”

“Thought Slytherins didn’t like muggle-borns or Gryffindor,” the youngest Weasley boy ignored Hermione and Harry’s statements.

With his temper ignited, Harry thought that he was going to explode from anger. How dare Ron accuse him of hating Hermione just because she was a muggle-born or a Gryffindor! “Ron, I’m still the same person I was yesterday on the train,” Harry snapped. “Just because I’m in Slytherin now doesn’t mean that I’ve turned into Malfoy.”

“How do we know that? How do we know you’re not just playing with us?” Ron’s face was bright red with anger. “What happened to you, Harry? Something happen to you when you ran away? Did you hide in a snake hole?”

“That’s enough!” Harry stood up in anger. “Neither of you know what I went through this summer! Neither of you know how lonely I was or how much I missed you! I’d’ve thought you’d be happy to see me even in Slytherin green since you spent the last month thinking I was dead.”

And before either Ron or Hermione could say anything else, Harry stormed away, tears stinging in his eyes. And here he had been excited to come to school again! Now all he wished for was that he was back in Wales, in the little cottage in Llanfair with his father, hidden and happy, away from the rest of the world.

*******

After a long, lonely lunch, Harry had to drag himself up to the North Tower for Divinations class. He had not given much thought about the class with all that had been happening in his life, but now that he was in the Persian type style room, he found himself looking around a bit nervously. Although Harry was not particularly fond of Professor Trelawney for all her predictions of his death last year, the young Snape was not fixed on learning everything he could about seers considering his father was a seer, even if Severus didn’t even really know it.

“Welcome back to another school year, my young pupils,” Trelawney came into the room in her normal, half crazed way. She was burning incense and had tea leaves sitting on the desks. Same as last year, Harry though miserably, but he was determined to get some answers he could use this year.

“Please turn in your homework over there in the tray, if you could,” the spacey professor smiled at the children in her normally freaky way. Harry could already tell that she did not like the Slytherins as much as she did the Gryffindor, but he had to wonder why. Although it was a bit hard to admit, the Slytherin students were generally quieter than Gryffindor or Hufflepuff.

Once everyone was seated, Trelawney looked over at Harry with her big glasses magnifying her eyes to make her look like a bug. “Poor child,” she said sympathetically. “Students, you must honor your fellow student Harry Potter, for his life is going to be ending soon.”

There was a moment when Harry was actually thinking about pulling out his wand and hexing the insane witch until she stumbled backwards and fell out the window. But that was too violent and he still wanted some answers from the woman before she made her tragic, dramatic death one day. “I feel fine, professor,” the boy muttered, trying hard not to turn any redder than he already was.

“No, no, Harry, I saw it quite clearly,” Trelawney shook her head. “You managed to shake off the Grim for a year, but he’s still out there, still waiting for you. Now, does anyone have any questions over what they read about over the summer?”

Of course, no one raised their hands immediately. There were not too many Slytherins in Divinations to begin with. Probably because Snape went around dissuading any of his House members to join such a “worthless hobby”, but there were some Hufflepuffs in the class, more than Slytherins, at any rate. One Hufflepuff girl raised her hand and asked a question so basic that even Harry knew the answer to. After spending the last month with his father and being forced to study, Harry had found that he actually knew a lot more now than other students in his year. With his father’s tutoring, all of Harry’s homework was guaranteed at least an 'E'. Actually, now that Harry thought about it, Severus had helped him with his Divinations homework as well, and had helped fix mistakes other than just spelling and grammar. Did his father really know he was a seer? No, no of course he didn’t, he never mentioned anything after he’d had a prediction at Privet Drive. Had he remembered, Snape probably would have told Harry not to tell anyone.

“Anyone else?” Trelawney’s mystical voice floated across the room easily. Bravely, Harry raised his hand. He had to fight not to close his eyes, afraid of all the scorn he would receive from his fellow classmates. Or perhaps he was just afraid that Trelawney would not answer him. Anyway, the young Slytherin knew he had changed if he was afraid to ask a simple question. But then again, everything had gotten so complicated lately, and questions were no longer simple for him.

“Yes, Mr. Potter,” Trelawney sounded a bit surprised to see Harry’s hand in the air. She remembered him when he was in Gryffindor last year and she had thought that he really did not care much about her trade. Then again, he had had to watch his back, always looking for the Grim and all.

“Professor, I was doing a little…extra research this summer, and I was wondering if there were different types of seers. You know, different branches, or something? I, uh, didn’t have the right assets to look it up on my own,” he finished a bit lamely.

But Trelawney did not seem to notice. In fact, her bug eyes got even wider, if possible, and they sparkled with true delight and excitement. “Twenty points to Slytherin, for Mr. Potter’s excellent question!” the witch exclaimed delightedly before clapping her hands a few times. All the students were a bit shocked by Trelawney’s excitement. She never gave out that many points, especially not to the Slytherins!

“Now, let’s see if we cannot answer your question, Mr. Potter,” the witch seer took a seat and looked up at her students. “Yes, there are mainly three different types of seers, all of different degrees in power and accuracy.

“The first type of seer, perhaps the weakest kind, is called a Dreamer. As you might have guessed, a Dreamer has visions in their sleep, normally giving them a vague clue as to what lies in the future. Dreamer’s predictions are not so reliable, as their visions can be spoiled easily, or they did not see the whole future, but just a small snippet of it.

“The second kind of seer is called an Eye.” The students were all leaning forward just a bit. Despite most of them hating this class, they could not help but be interested. “An Eye is a Seer who is awake while predicting. They give prophecies and predictions fairly often. What they see is far more accurate than a Dreamer, but there are times when their predictions are wrong, as something within what they predict changes. Something so drastic, no one could have known about it…not even the seer themselves.

“And the last type of seer is a very mystical, legendary kind of seer. They have many names, but the most common of names is the Light.” Harry felt like he had swallowed a golf ball, but he did not know why. “A seer who is Light is the most powerful of all the seers. There are not many around, because their gift is so rare. A Light Seer’s predictions and prophecies always come true. No matter what happens within the world, no matter how many changes, twists, or turns, a Light Seer’s predictions are fulfilled…one way or another.”

“But what if an Eye Seer’s predictions start to all come true, and someone declares them a Light Seer when they’re not?” Harry asked, fascinated, itching to know more. “How can you tell the difference beside’s their predictions coming true?”

“Another excellent question, Mr. Potter,” Trelawney nodded. “The difference between an Eye and a Light is the simple fact that an Eye Seer is perfectly aware what is going on. They know and understand that they are having a vision, like the Dreamers know. But a Light Seer, theirs is a powerful and often time burdensome gift. Being a Light Seer, is truly a burden, always predicting the truth, in the past, being hunted down for such truths coming to fruition. It is an extreme responsibility to be a Light Seer. Anyone that is must have others looking out for them.”

“Why?” it was a Hufflepuff that spoke up from the back. His eyes were wide as plates.

“Because,” Trelawney smiled eerily. “Light Seers more often than not do not even know they are seers at all. Their predictions are so powerful, it literally drains their magical core for at least ten minutes or so, or however long the prophecy goes to. When they see, they, in a sense, are no longer a witch or wizard, but become powerless in the moment of their reciting.”

“So, being a Light Seer hurts you?” a Slytherin girl, one Harry did not know yet, squeaked.

“For a moment, perhaps, but the magical core builds itself back up after a little time,” Trelawney looked beyond pleased to have a class that was actually hang on her every word. “Think of it as you blow out a torch, but then light it quickly again. It’s in that little blink where they predict.”

“But are you saying that Light Seers don’t really know they are seers at all?” Harry asked, trying not to show his impatience. “You said the difference between the other two is that they understand they can see, does that mean Light Seers don’t?”

“Another ten points to Slytherin, Mr. Potter,” Trelawney smiled. “That is correct. Light Seers do not know that they really are seers at all!” The class sat stunned, all but Harry. “That is, until someone tells then that they had a vision. Predicting is so draining upon Light Seers that everything seems to turn off, even parts of the mind. When they predict, they may slump over, they may fall, but then right after, they predict, their voices contort, their eyes change, and when they are finish,” the class held their breaths, “they faint.”

“Faint?” Matthew Colins, a Hufflepuff on the quidditch team, did not seem happy with that answer.

“Yes, Mr. Colins, they faint,” Trelawney nodded. “You must remember that their magical core has been drained and so has their physical body. It takes several minutes for their magical core to rise and go back to normal while it may take hours for their physical body to regain its former strength.”

Sitting in a bit of a shock, Harry just stared at his teacher. So that was it then. Severus Snape was a Light Seer. There was no doubt about it, no one could dispute the facts. The Potions Master had too many things in common with the Light Seers to not be one. The only question was, why hadn’t anyone told him he was a seer yet? He was in his thirties, plenty of time for someone to catch him making a prediction. Surely Dumbledore knew about this? If he did, why hadn’t he told Severus?

Professor Trelawney seemed to know a lot about Light Seers…almost too much. Perhaps she knew? She said Light Seers were legendary, mystical, and that they were not very common at all. Perhaps she had caught Snape in one of his acts? Maybe that’s why she endured the Potions Master’s slams with very good grace, simply because she had the secret knowledge that Snape was a seer like her.

“Professor,” Harry raised his hand. “Do you…do you know any Light Seers?”

Turning her large eyes upon the boy, Trelawney’s face lost all of its former joy and took on a serious expression. “No.”

*******

That night, before dinner, Severus and Harry had a meeting, where Severus informed the boy that the Headmaster wanted to talk to him about his summer events. “Don’t worry,” the Potions Master had said, “I will be there as well.”

At dinner, sitting alone, Harry looked over the Slytherin Table to find Draco not too far away. The blonde had not taken Divinations, so Harry had not really seen the other boy since lunch. But in the Hall with everyone else, the young Snape hoped that he could just go to sleep and forget about his day. With the exception of the seer information he had gathered. He wondered if he should tell his father…

But right before the puddings were spread out, Dumbledore got up and smiled at all the students. “Now that we are all settled in,” he began, “I must tell you some wonderful news. This year, Hogwarts has been chosen to participate in a competition called the Triwizard Tournament.”

While most of the students were curious, Harry included, he could tell that the staff members were less than amused. In fact, several looked downright outraged, Snape included. Which meant that the Headmaster had probably not told anyone about this either. Snape would not be pleased at all.

“The Triwizard Tournament is a set of challenges to test young witches and wizards. Two other schools will be attending; Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons. One challenger from each school will be chosen to participate in the challenges.”

Harry heard lots of excited chatter, especially coming from the Gryffindor Table. Whatever this Triwizard Tournament was, Snape did not seem to like it at all. In fact there was a vein in the Potions Master’s neck that looked like it was about to explode if he didn’t start yelling to relieve the pressure. If his father was that furious over this, that meant that there had to be some sort of catch. Harry wasn’t sure he was going to like this tournament at all.

“Now, because of the Tournament, the quidditch season will have to be canceled,” Dumbledore looked sympathetic. The Hall erupted with protests and groans of complaint, but the Headmaster raised his hands again and everyone quieted. “But, in the Tournament there awaits fame, fortune, and eternal glory for the winner.” Everyone was silent again. “But, because of the dangers faced in this Tournament, only those seventeen or older may enter.”

More protests could be heard, but they quieted once Dumbledore explained all the dangers and frights the contestants would have to face. Frankly, Harry thought the whole thing sound a bit ridiculous. He had done enough running around, hiding, testing his skills this summer. He just wanted some peace and quiet. With the quidditch season canceled, perhaps he could have a school year where nothing bad happened to him?

When the desserts were on the tables, Dumbledore signaled to Harry. Sighing, not going to be able to enjoy dessert, the young wizard left the Hall without too many people noticing. Draco, of course, noticed, but when the blonde saw Dumbledore and Snape get up to leave too, he knew that the new Slytherin was probably going to talk to them. He wished the other boy would get a detention for something.

But Draco tried to ignore his resentment enough to enjoy his piece of cake.

*******

Once in the Headmaster’s office, Harry looked around the room in nervousness. Once the door was closed, however, Snape did not wait to attack. “The Triwizard Tournament?” he spat. “Merlin Albus, why the bloody hell did you agree to that this year! Why not just open up Hogwarts to every dark wizard in Britain while you’re at it?”

“Calm down, Severus, we’re not here to discuss the Tournament,” Dumbledore actually looked angry, and Harry wasn’t sure he liked the look on the old wizard’s face. “Now, Harry,” he turned blue eyes upon the boy. “Won’t you sit down?”

“We will be discussing this later,” Snape hissed at the old wizard before he went to stand by the bookcase.

“Harry,” Dumbledore ignored Snape all together. “Before I begin, I just want to ask how you are doing.”

“I’m fine, sir,” Harry lied smoothly.

“Fine?” Dumbledore seemed to sense the lie.

“Well, you know, as fine as I can be,” the boy shrugged. “You know…it was all a pretty big shock and all.”

“Yes, yes, that’s understandable,” the Headmaster nodded, smiling kindly at the former Gryffindor. “You’ve been through quite a lot this summer, I believe. But there is someone we still are waiting for.”

Harry perked up at this, curious to know what the old wizard meant while Snape snapped to attention, his body rigid and his wand close at hand. Just then, the fire flared to life and a man stepped out of the  fireplace. Dusting himself off, the wizard looked up with cool hazel eyes before he smiled.

“Sirius!” Harry jumped up and ran into the man’s arms.

"Harry!” the wanted man exclaimed with the same amount of joy.

Dumbledore smiled warmly at the reunion of the two, his blue eyes twinkling merrily.

In the shadows, by the bookcase, Severus stood stone still, wanting nothing more than to simply fade away into the walls. He felt like he had been stabbed in the heart when he saw just how easily the boy had run to the other man, how he had so easily embraced his godfather. A surge of jealously shot through the Potions Master’s body as he watched his rival embracing his son.

“Sirius!”

“Harry!” Sirius wrapped his arms around his godson and crushed him to his chest in a heartwarming embrace. “Oh Harry!” Sirius cried, allowing his emotions full range. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you!” he pulled the boy way from him a little so that he could see the child’s face. “Everyone thought you were dead!”

“I know,” Harry looked down guiltily. “But I’m not.”

Sirius threw back his head and laughed at this, relief flooding through him as though a dam had burst. “Yes, I can see that quite plainly,” the animagi smiled warmly at his godson, but a frown soon took its place soon after. “Harry, why are you in Slytherin robes? Playing some sort of prank, are we?”

“Sirius, please sit down,” Dumbledore instruct the convict and together, Harry and Sirius sat down, Sirius still had an arm around the child. “Now then, there are some things that we all need to discuss,” the Headmaster went on.

“Yeah,” Sirius smirked. “Like when we get Harry out of those ridiculous colors.”

Both Harry and Dumbledore remained quiet, neither one really wanting to tell the animagus the news about Harry’s recent resorting. Harry did not want his godfather to be hurt by the fact that he had switched out of the House that both James and Sirius had been in when they were in school; he was afraid that Sirius might reject him like Ron. Dumbledore did not want to tell the other Gryffindor simply because he did not want the younger man to explode in anger while in his office. But luckily for both of them, Severus had no problems speaking up.

“Those ridiculous colors just so happen to be his colors now,” Snape came out of the shadows, his face contorted into anger.

“Snape!” Sirius jumped to his feet, his wand drawn. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Haven’t you heard? I’ve been employed here,” Snape sneered. “But why should I expect a mongrel that can’t even walk out on his front step to know that?”

Faster than the Headmaster could have spoken, Sirius was at Snape, his hands around his rivals collar. “You better watch yourself, Snivellus,” Black growled like the dog he was.

Sneering down at the slightly shorter man, using his extra three inches to his advantage, Severus scowled down at the other wizard. He grabbed Black’s hands and pried them off of his clothes. “Can’t be civilized, can we Black,” Snape’s voice was collected and smooth adding volumes to his insult. With a look of distain, he began straightening out his collar again, as though it were dirty from where Sirius had touched it.

“Why you-!” Sirius began before he was cut off.

“Gentlemen!” the Headmaster finally intervened. “Please. We are not here satisfy either of your long held grudges and let you fight them out; we are here to listen to Harry and let him tell his story about the summer events.”

“But you can’t seriously expect me to believe that Harry’s really in Slytherin now can you?” Sirius exclaimed, turning on the Headmaster. “He can’t be in Slytherin! I mean…his parents were in Gryffindor!”

“And your whole family was in Slytherin,” Severus snapped impatiently from behind. How stupid could Black be? Although it was likely that a child would be sorted into the same House as their parents, that wasn’t a guarantee. Black, of all people, should have known this. 

Looking around desperately, Sirius turned his gaze down at Harry who sat quietly with wide, miserable eyes. The boy had not thought about what it would be like to have his father and godfather in the same room at the same time. He had almost forgotten that the two men hated each other. Although he knew he should have thought about this, Harry was almost in tears to think that he might actually have to choose between the first man that had actually claimed to want him, and the other who was biologically his father and the only adult that had ever followed through with his promises. If it came down to it, it would not be a hard decision on who to choose, but Harry knew it would still hurt him and Sirius both. The boy knew that there was no way he would ever give up him new father, not after everything that had already happened between them.

But when Sirius saw his godson, he did not really see Harry. The convict looked into the green eyes and saw a very different boy sitting there, a boy that looked almost exactly like Harry, but with different eyes. All Sirius could really see, all that he wanted to see, was his friend James Potter. He knew it was wrong, but damnit, Harry looked so very much like his friend, and Sirius missed James. It was not hard to fool himself that this boy was more or less James Potter, especially after all the trouble that Harry and his friends had gotten into that reminded him of Marauders.

“Sirius, please, sit down,” the Headmaster’s voice sounded strained. “That will all be explained later on.”

Reluctantly, the animagus sat back down, shooting a glare at Snape before doing so. “Sure it’s safe to talk with the viper standing over there?” he growled throwing his head back to indicate Severus.

“Quite,” Dumbledore’s voice was tight, proving he was in no mood to listen to bantering or bickering. “Now then, Harry, why don’t you tell us what happened this summer?”

Taking a deep breath, drawing strength on the fact that his father was in the room, Harry nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said quietly. “Well, you see, after you took me back, sir,” Harry nodded towards Dumbledore, “I really found that I didn’t want to stay there anymore. So after you left and the Dursleys left too, I packed my things all up again and I left.”

“Where did you go? How did you get there?” the Headmaster frowned, sensing the boy was uncomfortable. But he thought perhaps it was due to the guilt of running away without telling anyone or perhaps from the tension in the room between Sirius and Severus. Either way, he tried to listen and smiled kindly at the child. The boy needed to talk, needed reassuring after everything he had been through.

“I…I went to London, sir,” Harry answered hesitantly. “I had some left over Muggle money that I had converted when I was last in Diagon Alley and I took a taxi to the city.”

“Foolish boy!” Severus snapped from behind, startling Harry. “You could have just as easily been picked up by a Death Eater!”

“Shut your fat mouth, Snape,” Sirius growled hotly, too angry to really think of a proper insult.

“Severus,” the Headmaster sent a warning look at the Potions Master. “Please go on, Harry.”

Taking a deep breath, relieved that Severus was only acting, Harry nodded to the Headmaster. “Well, once I got to the city I’d wanted to go to the Leaky Cauldron, but I thought I saw the Malfoys so I just went into a Muggle restaurant to get something to eat. I didn’t really have anywhere to go and so I asked some men that I’d thought worked there if there was a cheap place for me to stay at and…well…”

“Go on, my dear boy,” Dumbledore encouraged, smiling.

“Well, they asked me if I had a family. I said no and was going to leave, but they pulled out these badges and papers and said that they could take me to an orphanage, and that they did not want me to wander the streets and I didn’t really want to either so…so I just went.”

“And you’ve been so close all this time…” Sirius trailed off. “Why didn’t you come find me?”

“Where were you?” Harry asked, becoming uncomfortable.

“He doesn’t know where Grimauld Place is, moron,” Severus hissed quietly where he still stood with his arms crossed.

“Severus,” Dumbledore growled. “Go on, Harry.”

“Well…that’s it really,” the boy shrugged. “I just…you know, stayed at the orphanage.” He paused. “It was better than staying with the Dursleys for the summer.”

The story itself was wholly unremarkable; Harry and Severus had planned it that way. There were facts, dates, everything that would quell the Headmaster’s curiosity. The story was seriously lacking in several details, but the Potions Master was sure that there would be no questions asked of the boy. Harry was innocent, always innocent to the Headmaster, no matter if anyone caught the boy stealing potions or money, Harry was cursed to always be innocent…And Severus was there and ready to take full advantage of that.

“I see,” Dumbledore nodded. Severus stretched out his mind, hoping to create a peaceful mood about the room so as not to provoke the Headmaster’s more rational thought. The Potions Master was slightly angry with himself for not having had the sense to stay calm before, but then how was he supposed to know that Black would be here?

“You’re okay though, right?” Sirius looked his godson over. “They fed you? Didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” Harry reassured the animagus with a grin. “It was actually better than a summer with the Dursleys,” he said again, just for emphasize.

Severus glared over at the Headmaster trying to determine if the man suspected anything. If he did, the Potions Master knew he would have to run quick interference and stun both Dumbledore and Black before wiping some of their memory. He had a potion for just that sort of thing, but it was tricky and needed magic. He had used it before, but there was always the possibility of it not working, and Severus really did not want to have to try it, but he would if it meant that his and Harry’s secret would be kept. Although he would not admit to it, the Head of Slytherin was terrified at losing his son again.

The room fell into silence with Severus glaring between the Headmaster and Sirius, Sirius glaring at Severus and chancing a glance over at Harry now and again, the Headmaster looking between the three younger wizard, and Harry trying hard not to just stand up and scream. It was all too much. He was lying to Dumbledore and Sirius, two of the people he had trusted the most before this summer and now he was having to trust the man that he had hated the most besides Voldemort. It was all too confusing.

“So, what is this about Harry in Slytherin?” Sirius spoke up, looking to Albus for the answers.

“At the Opening Feast the Sorting Hat called Harry up and promptly put him in Slytherin,” the Headmaster said shortly.

“I don’t understand,” Black looked Harry over as though expecting to see something noticeably different with the boy. But, of course, Severus had made sure that there was nothing different about Harry other than his height, which would have been harder to hide. Besides, boys were expected to start growing once they were fourteen and older.

With a heavy sigh, Dumbledore shook his head. “We don’t really know why or how this happened,” he admitted. “But the Sorting Hat decided to place Harry into Slytherin, so into Slytherin he went.”

“That’s outrageous!” Sirius screeched. “I will not have my godson staying in Slytherin with that…” he trailed off glaring at Snape all the while. “…that thing.”

While he had been relatively silent, Severus found himself furious at Black’s response. How dare he talk about him like that! Of all the most insulting, idiotic things to say! And in front of Harry and the Headmaster no less! It was not to be tolerated. Severus had put up with enough shit that day, and this was not making matters any better.

“Well then,” Snape’s silky voice vibrated around the room, sending waves of dread through both Harry and Albus, for they both knew that Snape was in no mood to stand there and be insulted. “What a blessing it is then that you have no say in the matter anymore,” he sneered down at the convict.

“As Harry’s godfather, Albus, I demand-” Black tried to go on, but was cut off.

“You have no right over Harry,” Severus hissed, claiming all the attention in the room. “Harry is not your godson.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Snivellus?” Sirius growled, standing up to face the other man again.

In his seat, where he had stayed quiet, Harry’s heart raced in his chest. What was his father doing? Hadn’t the Potions Master stressed secrecy? Why then was he chancing exposing them with this? Was he really that angry, did he really hate Sirius that much that he was going to revoke Sirius’s right as godfather? It was within the parents’ rights to do so, but how was Severus going to get away with it if he wanted to keep his and Harry’s relationship a secret?

Harry looked up at his father who was at that moment glaring down Sirius who was standing now only a few inches away. Had the Slytherin simply let his tongue slip? Had Snape simply got caught up in his anger? Although it was hard to admit, Harry himself found that he let his temper get the better of him, but when he looked at his father’s face, the Head of Slytherin did not looked panicked, or worried. In fact, Snape only looked furious and  something else...he looked smug.

Smug? What did Severus have to be smug about? Sirius was the only one that openly- if you could really call it openly- had a say in how Harry lived or was being raised. Sirius was Harry’s godfather, and although Severus certainly had more right that Sirius where Harry was concerned, no one else knew that. So why then did the Potions Master look like he was going to enjoy what he said next?

Merlin, Harry thought, holding his breath. Don’t tell! Don’t tell! he thought frantically. He was not sure he could handle throwing everyone for another loop again. It would be too much…

“Deaf, Black?” Snape sneered.

Sirius looked as though he were capable of murder at that moment. “What the hell are you on about, Snivily?”

Raising his eyebrow in his well-known, classic manner, the ends of Snape’s lips curled up just a hint, alerting Harry that this was not going to be good. “Only the fact that you are no longer Potter’s godfather.”

“What?!” Sirius reeled backwards as though struck before he lunged at Snape again. “What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded, desperation leaking into his voice.

For the second time, Severus shrugged off his rival, before straightening his robes once more. “Do you really not know? When you were thrown in Azkaban, Black, everything you owned, all of your rights, your titles were all stripped from you. That includes your rights as Potter’s godfather.” Sirius turned white, and looked as though he would get sick. “And since that title can only be restored to you by the parents of the child…well,” Snape smirked, “I don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon, do you?”

Both Harry and Sirius wore similar looks of disbelieving horror. Although a part of Severus wanted to laugh at Black’s stupid face, all humor was washed away when he chanced a glance at his son. Mentally, the Potions Master kicked himself for being so blunt and even cruel with his words towards the other wizard. Of course Harry would also feel the effects of all of this. The boy liked the mongrel for some reason or other, and Black had been the first adult the boy had ever entertained the idea that might adopt him. Of course Harry wouldn’t like losing a godfather. The fact that that godfather was Black angered Severus all the more, and another wave of jealousy surged through him at seeing just how much Harry wanted to keep the mutt around. Would the boy ever show anything like that for him?

“You’re a lying bastard!” Sirius growled once coming out of his shock. “Why would you even know?”

 “Because Severus had to go through the process himself when Lucius re-named him godfather over Draco,” the Headmaster supplied.

“Over Draco?” Harry could not help but be distressed. Was that why his father had always favored the blonde over anyone in the past? Did his father still like Draco over everyone? Could anything else possibly go wrong with his day?

But then another thought crossed Harry’s mind. His father had really been a prisoner in Azkaban? Although he had begun to expect it, the confirmation of the truth still startled the boy. Why would his father get sent to Azkaban anyway?

“You!” Black cried, startling Harry from his thoughts. “You were sent to Azkaban?”

Severus sent a vicious glare over to Dumbledore, who realized that he probably should not have said anything at all. The Potions Master had become more hateful over the summer, and the Headmaster wondered at it. In the past Severus had never been an open person, had never sought out a friendship with Albus, nor had he ever spent time with the Headmaster on his own accord, but the professor had always humored the older wizard in the past, and there had been a time when Albus had thought that perhaps his Potions Master had started to like him. But that all seemed to have been washed away now.

After the events during the summer, Severus had reverted back into his cold civility. No, that was not quite right, Severus outright hated him now, and Albus could not really understand why. The black eyes showed nothing less than bitterness, resentment, and outright hatred every time the Headmaster happened to look over. The Slytherin was excellent at concealing his feelings on his face, but his eyes were very lively anymore. Once sucked down into those dark tunnels, you could see everything, and Albus was getting burned.

But why would Severus be angry with him? Was it really because he had sent Harry back to the Dursleys? Sure Harry might not like it there, and perhaps his relatives were less than pleasant, but it was better for the boy to be there than anywhere else. The blood wards would protect Harry better than anything else could. Surely Severus could see that? Surely the Potions Master was not trying to project his own childhood on Harry’s, was he? Maybe Petunia had brought on some bad memories…

And that’s when it hit him. Dumbledore snapped his eyes back on his professor, revelation shining in his blue eyes. Dear Merlin, no, Albus thought as those cold black eyes continued to glare at him.

“Why were you in Azkaban?” Sirius continued, not noticing the tension building between the Headmaster and the Potions Master.

“That is none of your concern,” Snape hissed.

“What’d you do? Was it for murdering all those people while you were a ‘loyal’ Death Eater?” Black went on, as though he never heard Severus at all and failed to notice when the other man balled his fists tightly at his sides. “Was it for burning down homes? Raping women?”

“You know nothing about-” Severus was fighting to keep control over himself, but was finding it almost more than he could bare.

“I know,” Sirius cut off the other. “It was because they linked you to Lily and James’s death, wasn’t it? They found out that it was you who told He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named the prophecy.”

“Shut up!”

“That’s it, isn’t it? Albus told me all about that. Said how you ‘turned to the light’ and all that rubbish. But it was really you all this time that killed James. You killed Lily an-”

“NO!”

In a blink of an eye, Severus had Sirius by the throat and up against a wall, strangling the other man mercilessly. The Gryffindor choked, and desperately tried to claw at his attacker’s hands, but the Slytherin did not relinquish his grip. In fact, it did not seem as though Snape noticed anything being done to him.

“Shut up!” Severus screamed. “You don’t know anything! Shut up!”

“Severus!” Albus jumped up. “Severus, release him! Severus!”

If the Potions Master heard any of this, he ignored it in favor of trying to end the life of his rival once and for all. Although he knew what he was doing was wrong, it felt so good to finally be able to do something about Black so that mongrel did not get away again. This time Black was helpless, this time he would not escape justice, could not talk his way out of anything. This time Dumbledore could not help him!  It just felt so good extracting this revenge.

And yet Severus did not quite understand that he was really trying to take the life of another person. After he had quit the Death Eaters, Severus had never wanted to kill again, and he never had. The horrors that he had gone through were just too much, and he even had dreams about it, still, after all these years. There was not a night that passed when he did not have a nightmare of some sort, but he had gotten used to them by now. And so there was a part of him then that believed he was dreaming, that this was not true, and when he woke up, he’d feel another horrible guilt that would try to crush him at the thought of wanting to kill again. But as always, he would get over it once he had calmed.

“Severus!” Dumbledore bellowed, again, but to no avail. The Potions Master’s grip was firm and by now, Sirius’s frantic struggle was starting to still.

“Sir!” Harry cried, unable to believe that his father was actually killing someone right before his eyes. Not Severus, this man…this man was good.

At hearing Harry’s voice, Severus’s blind rage disappeared at the sound of his child’s desperate voice. The first thing that went through his mind was that Harry was in trouble and needed help. What was he doing wasting his time on Black?

But Snape’s reaction was too slow for the Headmaster, and Dumbledore took out his wand. “Expelliarmus!” he cried.

Severus was instantly thrown backwards from the power of the spell, and having already loosened his grasp on Sirius’s throat, he was the only one sent flying. The professor hit the opposite wall hard, smashing his head against the stone before crumpling to the floor gracelessly. Sirius, too collapsed, where he had been pinned against the wall and was gasping for air and coughing.

Harry stood next to the Headmaster, his eyes wide as he looked between his father and his godfather. He was torn as to who he should check on; Sirius, who was on his hands and knees coughing, or his father, who had apparently been knocked unconscious. It seemed Severus had gotten the worse of it all, but Harry knew that he could not let Dumbledore know that he was more concerned over the Potions Master rather than his own godfather. So, for appearance sake, Harry, a bit reluctantly, knelt down beside Sirius, while Dumbledore looked towards Severus.

“Tha-” Sirius coughed, “maniac!” cough. “H-he tired,” cough, “to k-kill me!” Cough!

Dumbledore did not kneel before Severus but looked down at the unconscious man for a moment. “Sirius,” he called back over his shoulder. “I think you should go.”

Sirius stood up with Harry’s help and glared over at the Headmaster. “That man tried to kill,” cough, “me and that’s all you’re going to do?” Cough. “Make me leave? I’m not leaving Harry with that man as Head of House!”

“He wouldn’t have tried to hurt you had you simply not provoked him,” Albus spat, angry enough at both thirty year olds that he thought he might just lose his temper completely. “You should have known better than to say those things to him.”

“Even if they are true,” Sirius growled.

“They are not true,” Dumbledore scowled darkly. “It was no more Severus’s fault that Lily and James died then it was yours.”

“Mine?” Black was insulted, hurt, and confused. “How would it be my fault?”

“You told the Potters to make Peter their secret keeper, did you not? And Peter betrayed your trust. Severus needed to tell Voldemort something but he chose a poor verse to tell. But in the end, neither of you actually killed or betrayed anyone. That blame lays on Voldemort and Peter,” the Headmaster explained, trying to gather back his control. “Now, I want you to stop accusing Severus of betraying the Order and get along with him. Wha-”

“But-!”

“-What he has done will not go unpunished, I assure you,” Albus held up his hands for peace. “I will be talking to him as well. But Sirius, this is no way for adults to behave.”

Scowling, Sirius, still breathing irregularly, crossed his arms. “Fine, but I don’t want Harry in his House.”

“That is not up to you,” Dumbledore said firmly. “There is actually no safer place for Harry to be at this time. Severus might not like you, Sirius, but he will continue to protect Harry.”

“He doesn’t even like Harry!” the convict argued. “He’s made Harry’s life hell for three years! Imagine what he can do now that the boy’s in his House?”

Here the Headmaster looked angry and his body stiffened. “Severus has been looking out for Harry for years, Sirius, long before you were out of prison. Although Harry and Severus may have their differences, I assume those are to be pushed aside for the most part, yes?” he looked over at the boy.

“Y-yes, sir,” Harry nodded.

“Good,” Albus nodded in response. “Now that Harry knows about everything, I think that the two will be able to get along better. Now, you should go, before he wakes up.”

Scowling, Sirius stalked over to the Floo and grabbed a handful of powder. “Tell me if you’re being mistreated, eh kid?” Sirius stared down at his godson. “I’ll come back and take care of it.” Straightening up, he said to Albus, “I’ll be back this week to talk about this,” he growled.

The Headmaster merely nodded, just wanting to get Sirius out. The fire flared a bright green as the Gryffindor left, and Harry found himself alone with Dumbledore. “You should go back to your dorm now, Mr. Potter,” the old wizard smiled tiredly.

“Is he okay?” Harry looked towards his father’s still body. He hoped the man hadn’t cracked his skull on the stone wall.

“He will be,” the Headmaster nodded. “But he won’t be enjoyable to be around when he wakes. You should go.”

Anyone could have guessed what mood the Potions Master would be in were he to wake up after being hit by a spell as powerful as Dumbledore, but Harry found that he did not want to leave. Although Snape was ill-tempered a lot of the time, he always had other things he worried about, like Harry. Would Snape wake up and wonder what happened to his son? Would he worry about that?

“He was supposed to escort me back to the dorms,” Harry said simply, hoping that was enough to let him stay.

“If you are worried about that, go to Professor McGonagall,” the Headmaster said. “I’m sure she’d be happy to walk you down.”

Knowing that he was not going to win the day, Harry simply nodded and slowly made his way out of the room. What would happen if he simply left his father with the Headmaster? What would be said? What would be done? Would Dumbledore sack Snape for this? The Potions Master had done worse…hadn’t he? Would Severus tell the Headmaster everything? Would Dumbledore try to wipe Snape’s memories again?

With these troubling thoughts, Harry walked out of the office and closed the doors, but he did not leave. Instead, he waited outside and listened, hoping he would hear something.

Once Harry was gone, Dumbledore turned to the man lying on the floor. The sight of the younger wizard lying there troubled the Headmaster considerably. Severus looked just about the same as he had about fifteen years ago the night he had come to tell Albus about his marriage to Lily. Seeing an almost reenactment of that night turned to ancient wizard’s stomach.

When the Headmaster was about to kneel down, however, the Potions Master groaned and looked up. His vision was blurry for several seconds before he was able to see. His head hurt horribly, and he was not sure at the moment if the pain would ever stop; but once his eyes focused, and he saw the Headmaster standing over him, the Potions Master quickly scrambled to his feet, feeling at a distinct disadvantage.

“Easy, Severus!” Dumbledore reached out to help the younger man, but was flat out refused when Severus slapped his hands away. “Careful. I think you’re hurt.”

Indeed, Severus could feel the warm blood tricking down from the back of his head to his neck. His head felt like it had been slip open, but he refused to show anything, even though it hurt like hell. He had had worse before. One did not become a Death Eater and spy and come away unscathed.

“Severus, please, you’re injured, let me-”

“You’ve done enough!” Snape growled, but instantly regretted the intensity of his words. He felt nauseous.

With a weary sigh, the Headmaster tried to lead the Potions Master to a chair, but again, the younger wizard refused to comply. “Severus, I do not understand why you are acting this way,” Albus’s face was stern. “All summer you have been acting strangely, as though I have done something terribly wrong.”

“You honestly think you haven’t?” the Slytherin hissed.

Having the nerve to look offended, Albus glared at the other wizard. “No, I don’t think I have done anything so wrong as to deserve this kind of treatment from you.”

“Really?” Snape raised a furious eyebrow. How could the old man act so innocent? This man had probably hurt or killed more people than Severus, and yet the Potions Master had never heard of the old man complain about nightmares or regrets.

“Is this about sending Harry back to the Dursleys?” Dumbledore asked carefully. “Because I thought you understood that-”

“It’s more than that, you old fool!” the words flew out of Severus’s mouth before he could think better of them. But it was too late to recant; too late to take them back. The Slytherin was on full attack and all he wanted to do was hurt the other wizard, he wanted to make the Headmaster feel some kind of regret, some kind of pain.

With those cold black eyes glaring at him, Albus suddenly felt his stomach do another flip. With such hatred glowing in those obsidian eyes, the old wizard knew that he had been correct. Dear Merlin, he really does know! His mind screamed over and over again. Somehow, against the odds, Severus had found out about his and Lily’s marriage, somehow he had found out the truth. All this time, Albus had been hoping he had been wrong, but facing the Potions Master now, no one there to distract them, Albus knew that he could no longer expect things to be the same between him and Severus again.

“You…you know about Lily then?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” there was such hatred in that deep, rumbling voice that for a moment, Dumbledore wondered if his heart had stopped from the coldness of it. “I know what you did.”

Looking down in sorrow, the Headmaster nodded. “How did you find out?” he asked quietly.

“Are you honestly that stupid?” Severus growled. “You may have wiped my memory, but you never stopped to think that giving me a port key to Petunia Evans house might be a bad idea?”

“So…Mrs. Dursley told you then?” Albus asked, guilt rushing over him.

“Yes,” Snape’s voice was quiet. “She did.”

“And what about Harry?”

Instantly becoming defensive, Severus snapped almost to attention. “What about him?”

“Does he know?” Albus asked simply.

“Does he know that he should have been my child and not James Potter’s?” abhorrence dripped from the Slytherin’s tongue. “No, he does not know.”

Relief flooded through the old wizard like a flood. “And you will not tell him?”

For a moment, Severus thought about ending all the secrecy. He had lived most of his life hiding and keeping secrets, lying to and about others. And for a tantalizing moment, he thought about ending the secret of him being Harry’s father once and for all. But looking into the blue eyes of the Headmaster, Severus found that he simply could not do it. There was no way he could predict what Albus would do, how the old man would act. Would he accept the truth, or would he still try to carry out his plans? Technically, Severus now had the say over what Harry did or did not do; so what would the Headmaster do if he were to lose control over the boy?

“Why should I?” Severus answered once his mind settled.

The Headmaster sighed in relief. “Good, good, I was hoping you would see it my way.”

Scowling blackly, Severus glared at the Headmaster, reminding the old wizard once again that his Potions Master was furious with him.

“Severus…I did what I thought would be best,” Albus said simply.

“Well, what you did not only ruined my life, but it ultimately killed Lily…and Potter,” Snape hissed. “Had you not meddled in my affairs, Lily would probably still be alive! She had been safe under my care!”

“Severus, I did not do it to hurt you! I-”

“It’s not just about me!” Severus screamed. Albus sat stone still in his chair. “You’ve treated like shit for years, ever since I was here as a student. You never really did like me…I can understand that you would do such a horrible thing to me, but how could you do that to Lily?”

Those words seemed to nail Albus to his chair. Over and over again the simply question burned into the Headmaster’s mind, digging up old guilt and shame. A picture of the beautiful Lily Evans came into his mind and he could still see her the day that he had brought her news of Severus’s death. Had she really been that deeply in love with Severus? After all, she had married James only a month later and then had a son with the Auror... But then she had been scared, she had had doubts…

He could still see her white, aghast face as she buried it into Severus’s cloak, tears streaking down her face…

Before Dumbledore could say another word, apologize, make excuses, say anything, Severus was gone. The Potions Master had simply disappeared, leaving the old wizard alone with his own dark guilt.

After a time, Harry realized that he was not going to hear anything. Dumbledore’s door must have been spelled so that it was soundproof. Not surprising really, considering all the top secret events and discussions that went on in there. But it still frustrated the teenager to no end. He wanted to know what was going on in there. He wanted to know what was going on with his father. The boy had never seen the Potions Master lose it quite so badly before. It was terrifying. Sure, Snape had lost a little control with his magic at the Dursleys, but that had been a single, relatively harmless surge of magic that was easily fixed. This business with Sirius, however…

Glaring daggers at the door, Harry decided that there was nothing else for him to really do except maybe go down to the dorms, like he had been told to do. And although he really wanted to know what was going on, Harry did not want to still be around when either Snape or Dumbledore came out. No doubt they were not having very polite words at the moment, if their disastrous tempers were anything to go by.

Sighing, the boy abandoned his task, but did not go to the dorms. Instead, he went to Professor McGonagall’s office instead. He did not really know why, but he really did not want to go to the dorms just yet and sit in a room with a roommate that hated his guts. He just really wanted to get away from everyone and everything. He was confused, and he hoped that things wouldn’t change yet again in the morning.

When he knocked on the office door, Harry suddenly became very nervous. What was he going to say? Was he really just going to ask for his former Head of House to escort him back down into the dungeons? Or was he going to just stand there and look stupid?

The door open shortly after and Professor McGonagall appeared. She looked a little surprised to see Harry there, but she stepped aside. “Mr. Potter! Come in.”

Harry did so, and stood waiting until his teacher sat down once again. “My goodness, Harry! You look terrible! What’s wrong, lad?” Minerva was up again and helping her former student sit in his seat.

“I’m fine, ma’am,” Harry tried to smile, but he was still too troubled to do so.

“You’re white,” Professor McGonagall frowned, her lips forming a thin line. “Is something the matter? What did the Headmaster tell you?”

When he knew that McGonagall knew of the meeting, Harry let some of his false strength fade and his shoulders slumped down. He was tired and he didn’t think he could lie anymore tonight. After what he had seen, he was still too worried to think too clearly. “I guess you heard about that, huh?”

Minerva looked at the boy before her with pity. She knew that the child was being spread thin nowadays. The Headmaster asked a lot of the boy, which she did not approve of, and it was starting to show. And of all people, Severus seemed to have taken a keen interest in the boy the last several months, which had surprised the witch slightly, but also discouraged her too. If Severus could see past the boy’s parentage and become concerned for him while Albus, who claimed to love the boy, could not, what chance did Harry have? Dumbledore would continue on with his “plans”, like always.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked gently, hoping that the boy really would open up to her.

Sitting a moment in uncomfortable uncertainty, Harry debated whether telling his Transfiguration teacher or not. His father always seemed to trust Professor McGonagall, why shouldn’t he? “Sirius came,” he said gently.

Just those two words had the witch a bit paler than before. “While Professor Snape was there?” she asked, knowing the answer, but still having to ask the question.

“Yeah,” Harry’s eyes fell. “It…was really bad.”

The Head of Gryffindor nodded knowingly. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Staying silent for a moment, Harry thought through the events fully and what he had seen. “Sirius accused Professor Snape of killing my…parents,” he said after a moment. “Said that it was because of Professor Snape that Voldemort found them and killed them.”

Minerva flinched slightly at the name, but forced herself to stay calm. She had known both Sirius and Severus since they were students at Hogwarts, and she knew of their hated past. But even though she could sympathize with Sirius, who had been imprisoned for years for a crime that he had not committed, she somehow found herself more concerned with Severus at the moment.

Looking back on in, Minerva still remembered the first day she had met Severus as a colleague; only twenty-one years old and looking like he’d gone through hell. But the young man had been determined in everything; wanting to prove himself and afraid to fail. He had not changed too much from when he had been a child. She remembered when she found out that he had been a Death Eater. She had been horrified, angry, and confused. But then she also remembered the day he had broken down, cried like a child, claiming that the fault was indeed his that the Potter’s died, even after Albus had explained that the fault was not Severus’s and had explained Severus’s dangerous position as a spy.

Since then Minerva had never seen Severus cry. Not once in thirteen years, not even when she had seen him in the hospital wing after being tortured at a Death Eater meeting from Lucius Malfoy or from a potions accident from one of the students. Minerva knew that Severus still tortured himself with guilt, and it was because of this that she could guess what happened when he heard Sirius accuse him of the crime he believed himself guilty of.

“What happened?” she asked anyway, knowing that Harry needed to speak.

“He…Professor Snape tired…to strangle Sirius,” he said, his green eyes a bit haunted.

“Merlin,” Minerva muttered under her breath, no loud enough for Harry to hear. “And…what did Sirius do?”

Harry looked up with a frown, and Minerva knew instantly that she must have misunderstood something. “Professor Snape choked him,” the boy said, his voice shaking slightly. “He just…grabbed Sirius around the throat and started screaming at him.”

Minerva’s eyes widened a bit. Severus had really strangled Sirius? Although she knew Severus perfectly capable of such an act if angry enough, she simply could not believe that Sirius had not been quick enough to escape the attack or that Severus had allowed his control to slip so much. But looking over Harry, McGonagall could tell that the boy was deeply distressed by this news, and had an idea of what the boy must be thinking.

“Harry,” she said softly. “I know that what you must have seen was not…pleasant to witness, but I want you to know that you should not be afraid of Professor Snape.”

“He strangled Sirius until he almost passed out!” the boy exclaimed.

Holding up her hands, Minerva tried to calm the boy. “I know. But you must understand that what your godfather said to Professor Snape was completely out of line, and although I am not justifying or condoning Professor Snape’s reaction, I am merely trying to help you understand his reasons behind it. Professor Snape is not the reason your parents died, Harry,” Minerva said seriously.

“I know,” Harry said in a small voice. “Professor Dumbledore even said that.”

“Good,” Minerva nodded. “But I want you to understand that even though Professor Snape has a rather…harsh temper, he would never try to harm you, Harry.” When Harry looked about ready to say something else, Minerva held up her hands. “I know that you must think differently now, considering that you and Professor Snape have not gotten along well in the past, but believe me, Harry, Severus would not harm you. He would die to protect his students. Even you.”

Listening to his former Head of House, Harry had to stop and think through everything he had been told. Of course he knew Severus would not harm him, Harry was his son! But no one else knew that. And even though he knew Professor McGonagall was trying to be comforting, this was not what was troubling Harry the most. He was troubled by the fact that his father just tried to kill his godfather-who he just found out was no longer his godfather- and that Dumbledore had blasted his father across the room where he laid unconscious when Harry had left!

“But he hurt Sirius!” Harry blurted out, tears in his eyes. “And then Professor Dumbledore went and hurt Professor Snape!”

At this news, Minerva’s jaw did drop a little. It was one thing for Sirius and Severus to fight in front of the boys- those two were quite immature, holding on to old grudges, but for Albus to get involved and to physically harm someone, a professor no less, in front of Harry was too much.  “What?” was the only thing she managed to say though. She was still too shocked.

“Professor Dumbledore blasted Professor Snape across the room to make him let go of Sirius and then Snape just…crumpled to the ground…I think he was bleeding…” the tears wanted to burst free from Harry’s eyes, but he refused to let them.

Hearing this, Minerva thought that she might just explode with anger as well. So Harry was not just afraid of Severus, he was also concerned for him as well. And why should the boy not be? Severus had been the one that had taken Harry away from his awful, abusive family while Albus had been the one to take him back there, and Severus had been the one that had made plans to keep Harry safe while in Slytherin. Even with their terrible past, Minerva could see why Harry would be concerned for his new Head of House and angry with Dumbledore. It became apparent that the boy was just very confused at the moment, and Minerva could not help but feel for the boy.

“Come, Harry,” she said as she got up from her desk. “You must be tired. Let’s go to your dorm.”

“But what about-!” Harry started.

“I’ll go speak to Professors Dumbledore and Snape,” she assured him. “Right now I think you should get some sleep. You’ve had a long first day, and I’m sure you’re tired.”

“But-”

“I’ll straighten things out, all right, Harry? You don’t worry about anything. Just remember that Professor Snape will not harm you, Sirius still loves you, and Headmaster Dumbledore is only trying to look out for your best interest.”

Walking out of the office with Professor McGonagall, Harry could not help but wonder if he had just made things worse.

*******

After making sure Harry got to his room safely, Minerva charged to the Headmaster’s office, her fury in full mode. Even though Harry was technically no longer her student, Minerva still felt protective of the young Potter. She was like a lioness protecting her young and she wanted to be at her angriest when she saw Albus. Hopefully Severus would be there too to catch some of her tirade.

When she swung open the doors to the Headmaster’s office, she saw Albus sitting at his desk, tears in his eyes, alone. But she was far too angry on Harry’s behalf to even consider being compassionate to the old wizard. “Albus, how could you?” she hissed. “How could you bring Sirius Black to a meeting that Severus was at outside of an Order meeting? How could you just let those two argue until one was stupid enough to set the other one off? And then to hurt Severus while Harry was in the room!” she was practically shouting by then.

“Sit down, Minerva,” Dumbledore said tiredly.

“Albus, do you not understand how badly you’ve not only scared Harry, confused him?” McGonagall growled. “He came into my office white as a sheet and very shaken!”

“I should imagine,” the Headmaster said evenly. “Things got a little bit…rougher than I had imagined.”

“And that’s all you’re going to say about that? It got ‘rougher’ than you’d thought?” Minerva was outraged. “Merlin, Albus! Did you not even stop to consider how Sirius would react to Severus being there right after he just found out his godson was alive? You know as much as I do that Sirius thought that Severus kidnapped Harry and gave him over to the Death Eaters! And even after that, you still thought it would be all right to have Severus standing by when Sirius came?”

“Minerva, please calm down,” the Headmaster snapped. “You have yet to know the fine details of the situation.”

At this, the Transfigurations professor snorted, not caring that it was unladylike. “‘Fine details’ you say,” she scoffed. “Don’t give me that, Albus. You should have planned things out better and controlled yourself in front of Harry. Merlin! You attacked Severus!”

“After he attacked Sirius!” Albus exclaimed desperately.

“And I will be having words with him next,” she acknowledged, “But you should have known better than to hurt Severus in front of the boy. Harry seems to have gotten a different opinion of Severus since last year, ever since the summer, and you know it!”

“I know that, Minerva, I don’t need you to tell me,” Dumbledore snapped.

Balling up her fist in frustration, McGonagall thought that she might explode with anger. Now she really could say that she knew what Severus was talking about when he said that at times he thought he wanted to kill the Headmaster. The man was being positively infuriating and Minerva found that she had little tolerance or sympathy for him right then.

“Then you should have been smart enough to control yourself and Sirius,” Minerva growled back, attempting to keep herself under control.

“And you would place all the blame with Sirius and myself alone?” the Headmaster raised a mocking eyebrow. “Even though you yourself know Severus’s temper?”

“I do know what Severus is capable of when he’s angry,” the witch raised her chin in an effort to show her employer that she was not weak and to show she was not fazed by the slight insult. “But I also know that he is capable of controlling himself better than most people under strenuous situations if there are others there that he knows will support him. Obviously he did not feel that you could handle the situation properly. And I can imagine you let Sirius wag his tongue all over the place-”

“You do not even know what was said,” Albus scowled.

“I do,” Minerva scowled right back. “You stood by and let Sirius accuse Severus of murdering the Potter, and right before Harry too! And then you obviously couldn’t control things when Severus attacked, and so you hurt him instead!”

Albus stood up from his chair and lean forward towards the witch. He knew she was right, but he could not stand to be faced with anymore guilt at the moment. “I could not have control Severus, even if I had never invited Sirius here,” he admitted, tired of hiding the one secret he regretted perhaps the most. “The moment Severus brought Harry to me this past summer, wanting me to place him with the Weasleys or somewhere else, I was no longer able to control him.”

“You sound as though that’s a bad thing,” Minerva sneered. “You know what I’ve always thought about your manipulating him. He’s a good man, and he didn’t- doesn’t need you always making up his mind for him.”

Sighing wearily, Albus plopped down in his chair. “Please sit, Minerva. I need to tell you a little story.”

When McGonagall relented and sat down, Dumbledore began telling her the story of how Severus and Lily had gotten married and how he split them apart forever. He did this to first explain the Potions Master’s suddenly rebellious and resentful attitude to the Headmaster and second to relieve his own conscience. And even though his mind and heart began to fell lighter as he brought forth his sin, he could not help but despair over Minerva’s apparent repulsion and disgust.

After he had finished, ending with the events of that evening, and how horrified he had been to have seen the other wizard in just about the exact same situation as the last time, Albus became silent and waited for Minerva’s judgment. He knew it was not going to be good, as her face had lost a bit of color and her lips thin. But at last she did speak. “Because of a prophecy?” she asked quietly.

“Yes,” Albus nodded.

Minerva’s face twisted into abhorrence. “You ruined Severus’s happiness and Lily’s life just because of a prophecy?”

“You don’t understand, Minerva,” Albus was quick on his defense. “I know you don’t put a lot of faith into Trelawney’s predictions or divinations, but Severus can-”

“I don’t really believe any of that,” McGonagall scowled, not letting the Headmaster finish his statement. “Or at least I wouldn’t put my absolute faith in one. Merlin, Albus, you’re controlling people’s lives on the bases of prophecies and predictions! You may be the most powerful wizard of the age, but you cannot control people like this!”

“I’m doing it for the good of-”

“No, you’re trying to play ultimate hero!” Minerva stood up and walked towards the door. “I’m not really surprised Severus snapped,” she said in the doorway. “I will not tell anyone about this as I don’t think Severus would want me to tell, but if you’re expecting me to talk to him and get him to forgive you, I would have to say that you’re wrong. He has every right in the world to be angry with you, and I don’t blame him. Good night, Albus. I hope you’ll re-think what you’re next move is going to be.”

And with that, Professor McGonagall left the Headmaster’s office, not caring much if she was too harsh. For once in her life, Minerva thought she understood things all just a little bit better now; Severus’s hopeless bitterness and resentment to the world, all the damn plots Albus came up with… She had stayed quiet a lot when the Headmaster planned, but after the summer events with Harry, and after finding out what he had done to Lily and Severus, Minerva decided that perhaps it was time to really exhort her authority as Deputy Headmistress more, to try to balance out Dumbledore’s power over the school. After all, it was her job to look after all the students too, and Harry would need her this year, she just knew it.

*******

Once out of the Headmaster’s office, Severus stormed his way to his classroom, stumbling and feeling lightheaded. Once inside, he went to his office and Flooed the rest of the way to his chambers. It actually saved him about ten minutes of walking since his quarters were a long way down in the dungeons. No one except the Headmaster, Hagrid, and himself knew where his quarters were, but that was how Severus liked it.

Once out of the fireplace, feeling even sicker than before, Severus went immediately into the bathroom. He got out another mirror and then turned to look at the back of his head. It was still bleeding, but it was starting to dry. Taking out his wand, he cleaned the wound and looked it over again. He turned around to look at his eyes in the bigger mirror and inspected his eyes closely. His response was a bit sluggish and from the ringing in his ears, he knew that he had a concussion.

Opening his medicine cabinet, Severus took out a potion and read the label several time to make sure he had gotten the right potion before drinking it down. He had had many concussions in the past, from his childhood through his adulthood, and always had this particular potion at hand. After that was done, he had just enough energy left to close the wound and walk to his bedroom.

Falling onto his bed, Severus stretched out and closed his eyes. The ringing in his ears was starting to lessen, but he still felt extremely ill. His mind wandered back to his discussion with the Headmaster. It was not that he could not believe he yelled at the old man, it was what he had yelled. Of all the things he could have said, he had admitted to remembering being married to Lily. Why had he done that? That had been very stupid. And Merlin, he had strangled Black! In front of Harry!

Harry! Sitting up quickly, Severus thought for a moment he might throw up, but he managed to fight down his nausea. What had happened to Harry? Was the boy safe? What had Albus done with the child? Had he simply sent him off to the dorms or had Black taken the boy?

No, even Albus admitted that Black had no rights over the boy. But what then? There was not much the Headmaster could have done with the boy other than send him to his rooms. But then one never knew with the old bastard.

“Potter is here then?” he cut off the girl, staring at her intently.

“Yes, sir,” Everard nodded carefully. “Is there something going on?”

“Nothing more than usual,” Severus looked around the dorm with a critical eye. The students that were there turned to look away once the noticed that Snape was looking at them. “But remember what I said,” he lowered his voice so that only his prefect could hear him. “This year will not be going normally due to this Tirwizard Tournament, and because Potter is in this House. Just keep the muggle-borns and the half-bloods quiet, like usual, and things should be relatively peaceful.”

“But sir,” Miss Everard spoke up, looking nervous. “I heard from…well from some of the others that you’re not a…a You-Know-Who supporter.”

“And?” Severus growled, in no mood to be talking, let alone talking about this.

He could tell that the girl was relieved as well as frightened by the answer, but stiffened her lip. “Well, I’m concerned about you, sir,” the witch admitted. “I’ve heard some nasty things said about you.”

“Just keep silent or play along if you must,” Severus said quietly. “But I still want reports, if you’re able to get them.”

“Yes, sir,” Everard nodded. “Let me know if I can do anything else, sir.”

Nodding, Severus almost regretted the action, as for a moment he thought he might throw up on one of his favorite students, but he got lucky and managed to swallow everything down. He turned and went back the way he came and soon fell into bed and closed his eyes. He did not worry too much about grading at the moment as he was sure he needed some sleep. He had had precious little the night before, and Harry was safe, not to mention the rest of his brood. He was just lucky he had prefects like Miss Everard to look after the non-pure blood children without prejudice.

Letting his mind wander, Severus fell into an uneasy sleep, dreaming the horrible memory of the night he had lost his Lily…

*******

In the Slytherin dorms, Harry laid awake, unable to go to sleep. He had finished his homework. Draco had taken over the bathroom for about an hour or so before Harry was able to get ready for bed. But he did not feel like sleeping. His mind kept playing the events of the evening and the night before over and over again. It all seemed like some kind of bad joke that was being played on him. None of it seemed fair. Why couldn't anything be normal in his life?

As he tried to sleep, every time he closed his eyes he would either see his father strangling Sirius or see his father laying on the ground bleeding. It was terrible. And all Harry could do was worry about his father and about Sirius. He could not help but feel a little betrayed by both Sirius and his father for what they had done.

Rolling over on his side, Harry just hoped that things would look brighter in the morning. Heaven knew it couldn’t get any worse than what that day had been!

The next morning, Severus woke up at his usual time with a splitting headache. It was not uncommon to feel that way after receiving a concussion the night before, but no matter how many times he got one, it still hurt. Even with the potions and the spell there was always still the slight flitters of pain in the morning to make Severus more than uncomfortable and more than a little cranky.

Getting up, the Potions Master went through his usual routine before he left his chambers, not caring about the unfinished potions essays he’d left behind. He’d get to them eventually, when he had time. No one could blame him for not getting them done. Between having the Headmaster breathing down his neck, Harry’s resorting, the Death Eater threat, most of his Slytherins hating him, and then the sudden appearance of Moody, Severus thought he had a fairly good excuse. Besides, it wasn’t like any of the students would whine to him about not getting their homework back yet. Everyone knew that it was suicide to complain to the Potions Master, and Severus was only too ready to encourage that belief.

As he was making his way to the Slytherin dorms to collect Harry, the Head of House was surprised to see Minerva McGonagall waiting for him, not looking pleased in the least. “Do you often stalk the dungeons at this time, or is there something you want?” he asked silkily, pleased that he had caught the witch off guard when she jumped.

But instead of some biting remark of her own, Severus knew that there was something wrong when she just turned and glared at him before saying, “We need to talk,” in a tight manner.

Although he could guess what this was all about, Severus still wished that the witch was there for something trivial, such as to threaten him to be nicer to the Gryffindors this year. But knowing the look in her eyes, the Potions Master knew that he was not going to be so lucky. “Can this wait?” he asked softly, lest his voice ring out through the halls.

“No. It cannot,” the Deputy Headmistress said very seriously.

There was a moment when Severus wanted nothing better to do but just sigh and stomp his feet like a first year, but he held it in. He was getting a bit nervous with the situation even though he knew he should not be. Minerva was probably here because Harry or the Headmaster had told her what had happened the night before. She probably just wanted to yell at him for being stupid enough to hurt the all glorious Sirius Black or something. And yet there was something else in the woman’s eyes that declared that not all of her anger was going to be directed at him…

“Come with me,” he bowed his head before guide the witch to the Potions classroom.

Once the door was shut, Minerva wasted no time. “Are you insane?” she growled. “What were you thinking when you decided to strangle Sirius Black in front of his own godson?”

Glaring down at the witch, Severus found that what little patience he had had that morning vanished. “If this is just about Black, you can get out of my classroom,” he snapped.

 Lifting her chin defiantly, the Transfigurations teacher did not budge. “I am the Deputy Headmistress here, and you will have to respect my authority,” she hissed. “Now answer my question.”

Scowling blackly, the Potions Master found that his temper was rising and his head was pounding. “You think that you have all this authority over me, but you don’t,” he hissed right back. “And what if I don’t answer? You think you’re going to get me sacked? Get the Headmaster to come and talk to me?” he sneered.

Realizing that there was nothing she could really threaten Snape with and it still be believable, Minerva found herself close to tears from sheer frustration. “Damnit, Severus! You scared Harry half to death! He thought you were going to kill his godfather!”

“I would have been doing the world a favor,” he rolled his eyes.

“Why aren’t you taking this seriously?” McGonagall yelled. “That boy’s been through so much in such a short time, and then you decide that you want to try and kill the only person he has left?”

A surge of jealousy shot through the Potions Master at that statement. Why did everyone seem to think Black was the last person Harry had left? The boy still had the Weasleys and Granger, hell, he even had the werewolf Lupin! Why did everyone care so much about Sirius bloody Black?

“Get out,” Snape’s voice dropped into a deadly whisper.

“Severus, I want-”

“Get out!” the wizard barked. “I don’t want to speak to you about this. You don’t know what’s truly happened.”

Seeing the man so frustrated and so angry, Minerva regretted being harsh from the beginning. All of her worry, her fears had just come out as anger when she had seen the wizard. It really was hard to look at the man in black and  think of him as an agent of Light, even though she had know this for years. Snape just did not strike someone as having a heart, and sometimes she really did forget that the usually emotionally detached wizard did have feelings and needed to be talked to like everyone else.

“Severus,” she said more gently, “I’m sorry…it’s just…you didn’t see how upset the boy was last night.”

If that was supposed to make him forgive her or make him feel any better, it did not. In fact, it just made Severus even more resentful of Black. Why did Harry like that mutt so much? Harry had spent months believing that the man had been the one to betray Lily and James, and only until the end of his third year did he understand that Black had been wrongly accused. So why had the boy decided to forgive and attach himself to that worthless mongrel so quickly? Harry had spent most of the summer with Severus, and the boy still seemed nervous about even talking to Severus! Only out of extreme emotional need had Harry let Severus hug him, but the moment he saw Black he all but leaped into the convict’s arms!

“No. I did not,” he growled. “But I’m sure he saw the mutt off safely,” he sneered, hoping none of his bitterness would show.

 “He wasn’t just concerned over Black, he was worried about you too,” McGonagall said quietly. She heard the acrimony in the wizard’s voice, but she thought that it was due to everyone being concerned over Sirius rather than himself, who had probably been hurt worse than the animagi. Harry had been concerned over him? Severus’s first thought was to ask why, but as he recalled the nights events he realized that it would be rather unsettling to see your professor and father blasted up against the wall by the Headmaster. And he had been bleeding, after all, and rendered unconscious. The last he could remember, Black had still been awake.

“Was he?” he occluded his mind to make himself sound cold and uncaring. His normally aloof nature was slipping back into place.

There was a moment when Minerva did not speak and Severus could see a light dancing in her eyes, a light of debate. Not liking this at all, the Potions Master’s own mind went about trying to decide what it was the witch seemed to be contemplating. If Minerva had been to the Headmaster’s office, what had Albus told her? She seemed upset and worried, and yet he could tell that she was not just angry with him. Could she be angry with Dumbledore and Black as well?

“Severus,” McGonagall sighed, at last coming out of her silence. “I know,” she said simply.

Even though he had begun to suspect it, the confirmation of someone else knowing about his past had Severus staring down at the witch in astonishment. There were many things that he wanted to say, many things that he wanted to do, but Severus could not do anything but stare down at his former professor. “What?” was the only word he managed to say.

Sighing again, Minerva looked up into the onyx eyes of the wizard. “Albus told me about what he’d done…about how he separated you and Lily and made Lily believe you were dead. And about how he had pushed her into marrying James.”

There were no words that were adequate to describe how Severus felt at that moment. All he knew was that he was in pain. For most of the summer he had been trying to ignore how he felt, and focus on his anger. All his life Severus had never been able to show his real feelings unless it was anger. Anger was his constant, his ally, his way of protecting himself. Anger and hatred were all Severus had come to know for years after he had lost his Lily. But now that he was suddenly faced with new, oddly extraordinary circumstances, after facing the fact that he had been betrayed, there were so many things Severus felt, but as of yet, he had ignored most of it. Hearing another person speak of his plight hit him hard, shaking him into reality as though for the first time, even though he’d been living the new truth for a month.

Feeling his head spin, the Potions Master leaned on one of the tables, his dark hair curtaining his face, hiding his pain, his remorse, his regret, his hatred. Breathing became almost too much for him as his memory began playing images of Lily before him. For a split second he thought he could hear her laughing, he could see her smile, her winking at him…

“Severus,” Minerva’s soft voice shattered the delicate trance the wizard had been in. Unsure as of what to do, the witch lightly touched Severus’s shoulder.

Minerva jumped when Snape flinched terrible, and pulled away. “Don’t touch me!” he hissed, turning away.

“Severus, I…I can understand how-”

“How I feel?” Severus turned around, glaring dangerously at the Transfiguration professor, his dark eyes glistening with unshed tears, as he gave a biting, mirthless bark of a laugh. “How could you possibly understand how I feel?” he sneered.

Picking up her courage, Minerva stood her ground and simply staring at the man before her, determined to help him even as compassion swelled within her. “I’ve never had something like this happen to me, but I…I can imagine-”

“You cannot,” Severus growled, fighting to keep his emotions under control, but he found it rather difficult. “No one can understand just what I’ve gone through.”

“I know it hurts,” Minerva said sympathetically.

“You have absolutely no idea,” Snape growled, becoming frustrated with the witch, even though his rational side told him that she was just trying to help.

“Then why don’t you tell me,” she said gently. “If I don’t know how you feel, I can’t help you.”

Another silence filled the room, deafening the ears. Minerva waited patiently, wanting the younger wizard before her to open up. Severus locked too many things away and it was not healthy. She wanted him to know that he could trust her, that she did not condone Albus for what he’d done. It was clear that the Potions Master needed help, or at least a crutch that he could lean on in his troubling times. Dumbledore had always put too much on Severus’s shoulders, and now that the boy was free of his spying obligation, Minerva was determined to help protect Severus, help him stand up for himself, like she should have done in the first place.

“You want me to tell you?” Snape’s voice was quiet, but it also held a acidic poison to it that could not be ignored. “My heart was made of a fragile glass, so fragile that I had to lock it away in a container. The day I found out about just what I’d had, just what I’d lost, just who betrayed me, it felt like someone had smashed my heart into a thousand pieces.”

Minerva listened, her eyes filling with tears as she watched the wizard before her tense with each passing word. “And all those shards of glass,” Severus went on, “are now trapped within that container, unable to fall away or pass. And each time I breathe, those broken shards cut me from the inside. Each breath send more shards to cut me or dig a little bit deeper into what I can still feel. I’m cold and I don’t think I can ever be warm again. I cannot rest without thinking about what’s happened. When I sleep, it does not feel natural anymore; it is not restful, and I’m starved for sleep.

“Food no longer has a taste to me. It all tastes like ash or soot, and I have no desire to eat. I eat, but it’s only out of habit that I do so,” the wizard scowled. “Each moment I have free, when I’m not doing something, my mind wanders to my memories, the ones that I’ve long forgotten, and I cannot help but believe that I’ve betrayed Lily…that it really is because of me that she’s dead. If I had not let Albus obliviate me, we could still be married and she would be alive because the Dark Lord would never have had a reason to go after her in the first place,” his voice became thick.

“And every day in the school year, I’m forced to look into the face of James Potter, and only now do I truly taste the bitterness of the situation,” he scowled, as though he really did have a foul taste in his mouth. “Now I’m conflicted, tottering between hating that face more than I did in the past, or loving it as it is the last link Lily’s left behind,” Severus trailed off, knowing that if he went any further he would regret it.

Turning around slowly, the wizard looked back at his colleague, who had stayed absolutely silent throughout the entire confession. The witch was sobbing silently, almost as though she, too, could feel Severus’s pain. As watched her, Severus’s mood darkened, realizing now that even though he might have felt a bit lighter from speaking to the witch, nothing had been gained by it other than securing Minerva’s pity, and he did not wanted that. He never wanted pity.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, feeling uneasy. He felt guilty for making Minerva cry, but he really did not know why she would. No one, except Lily, had ever cried for him before. He had always believed that he was not worth anyone’s tears.

“Oh, Severus,” the witch sobbed. “How can you…how can you ask me that?” her dark green eyes were red-rimmed from crying.  “If that’s how you feel, how can you not be in tears?”

Scowling, Severus turned away again, feeling his eyes well up with his own frustrated pain. “I don’t have many more to shed,” he said tightly. “What good are tears?” he went on, not wanting to be seen so weak, even after he just admitted to feeling like hell. “Tears don’t make anything better. They help nothing.”

“They release the bitterness,” she said quietly. “They cleanse, help lessen the remorse.”

“No tears have ever done such a thing for me,” Snape said austerely.

“Severus-”

“Get out,” he sighed, at last unable to hold it in. “I must go,” he added quietly.

“Severus, maybe you should go back to your quarters and rest,” Minerva looked over the wizard in concern. He was leaning heavily on the table once again, and just the sight of him called more tears to her eyes. Severus had been right though, Minerva could not imagine such a pain, a pain so intense it derived the body from feeling anything but agony and remorse for what was lost. She could not even claim such pain after the loss of her dear Charles, as Charles had died an old wizard and no one had forcefully taken him away. Charles had passed naturally, Lily had been ripped away from Severus and handed over to another man only to be murdered.

“What good would that do?” the wizard hissed. “I have work that needs to be done,” he straightened back up and walked towards the door. “I must make sure that no one harms, Potter.”

Minerva saw Severus flinch ever so slightly at the name, but understood it much better. “Very well,” she bowed her head. “But if I can do anything…” she let herself trail off, not knowing what she really could do to help this man.

“You can keep this to yourself,” Severus said gruffly. He had not really meant to confide in Minerva, but after last night he had needed an outlet.

Understanding the harshness, bluntness much better now, Minerva was not offended by the Slytherin’s rudeness. Severus was a private man who told nothing about himself to anyone. For him to open up and confess to Minerva was a large demonstration of faith on his part, and she was touched that he would trust her. “I will not say a word to anyone,” she said quietly. “And if you need anything, do not hesitate to ask me,” her voice took on her usual firmness now that she had wiped her tears away. “Keep the Headmaster out of my way and that will be all I ask,” Severus said sharply as his thoughts turned to Albus. Another swell of hatred for the old man rose up again and he had to push it down lest he storm the halls until he kill the old fool in his office.

Nodding, Minerva turned to leave. “Severus,” she said, just as he was walking back down to the Slytherin dorms. Once he stopped, she went on. “Perhaps you can explain things to Harry. He’s just a boy, and he does not understand what’s going on…he really was scared of you and for you last night.”

“I know,” Snape said almost too softly for Minerva to hear before he stormed off again, his robes billowing behind him as he went.

*******

When Harry had woken up, the first thing he did was moan. He had had a terrible night and he did not feel like going to classes that day. Besides that fact that he did not want to go because he was a teenage boy and classes were absolutely no fun at all, he also did not want to go because he was now in Slytherin. And there was the even bigger problem of having double potions that night, right before dinner, and he would have to see Professor Snape, his father, the whole time.

Sitting up in bed, Harry found himself suddenly nervous. Three years experience told Harry that potions was not going to be pleasant, that Snape was just going to harass and abuse him in class. In fact, even before his first year was over, he had come to expect the cruelty that Snape always dealt out to him in class. But this year was different, wasn’t it? This year Snape knew that he and Harry were father and son, and Snape was no longer a spy, meaning he no longer had to feign complete favoritism to the Slytherins. So what would today bring?

Getting up, Harry went through his normal morning routine. When he got out of the lavatory, dressed and ready to go, he stepped out to see that Draco was awake and staring at him. “Um, morning?” Harry said gently as he went to his trunk to get his books out, for the day since he would not be coming back to the dorm until that night.

“Where were you last night?” The unexpended question caught Harry off guard, and he just turned to stare back at the blonde. “What?”

“Where were you?” Draco repeated moodily. “You didn’t come back until after ten, almost eleven.”

The concern was touching, but not at all like Draco Malfoy. Becoming instantly alerted that something was wrong, Harry went back to getting his books together, hoping he looked calm and collected. Harry even wished he had his father’s mask of cool at the moment. “I went to talk to the Headmaster’s all,” he said confidently.

“Was Professor Snape there?”Harry’s head snapped back up, and he locked eyes with Malfoy. Those steel gray eyes gave away nothing, at least nothing Harry could detect. A hundred questions flooded Harry’s mind at once, most of them wondering why Draco would want to know about Snape. The blonde hated Snape now, Harry had seen that quite clearly the first night when Snape had given a beginning of the year speech to his House, so why was the blonde so concerned? What motive did Draco have? Was he collecting information for his father, Lucius?

“Uh, yeah, he was there,” Harry answered carefully, watching for anything to give the blonde away, although he did not know what he was looking for.

Instead of smiling or trying to give some fake explanation like Harry would have thought, Draco scowled instead, as though he had a bad taste in his mouth. Malfoy stared at a spot on the floor, his eyes unfocused, and yet Harry could tell the other boy was deep in thought. What was Malfoy after this time?

Slowly, Draco nodded and got up to use the lavatory himself, closing the door behind him rather loudly.

Frowning, Harry wondered what that conversation had been all about. Why would Draco want to know if Snape had been at a meeting between Harry and the Headmaster? No matter how many ways Harry thought about it, he could not see any real harm in telling Draco about where Snape had been the night before. As far as Malfoy knew, Snape had been at the meeting because he was Harry’s new Head of House, and then afterwards, the professor had gone to his chambers to grade, or something like that.

Did Malfoy somehow know what went on last night? Had he seen Sirius in the castle? Or perhaps he saw Snape when he had left the Headmaster’s office and saw him hurt? Or maybe Snape had not gotten up, and Dumbledore had had to take him to the Infirmary? Was that it? Was Draco trying to find out what had happened the night before after seeing Professor Snape?

Feeling suddenly ill, Harry sat back on the floor and closed his eyes. His father had not looked so bad the night before, he had just been unconscious. But there had been blood…Had the Headmaster cracked his father’s skull? Merlin, what if his father was going to die?

Harry did not know how long he had stayed like that, but he had apparently been there pretty long, because Draco came out of the bathroom then, clean and dressed for the day. It was only when the blonde knelt down at his own trunk did Harry realize that he was running a bit late. If his father was indeed okay, then he would be waiting for him once he ran up into the common room, and then Harry would get a lecture about being on time and things would be all right. But if Snape wasn’t there…

“I’ll, uh, see you later, I guess,” Harry said, grabbing his bag and leaving Draco behind, feeling compelled to say something, yet wanting to leave as fast as he could.

Harry left so quickly he did not have time to see Draco sneering after him as he ran out the door.

Taking several steps at a time up the stairs, Harry managed to come into the common room just in time to see Snape walking in the door himself. Although no one else would have noticed it, Harry could see that Severus did not look all that well. The Potions Master still had dark circles under his eyes, and his stance was ridged. The professor’s dark eyes glistened with some unknown emotion, one that spoke of deep thought. Yet there was a sadness that could not quite be described. Just looking into the onyx eyes for a brief moment, Harry felt his heart break.

“Sir?” Harry said gently when it became clear Snape did not really see him standing there.

Looking down at his son, Severus looked over the hated features of James Potter. Every feature that did not belong to he and Lily were lies, Dumbledore’s lies, and Severus was having a rather hard time not destroying every last trace of James Potter from his son’s face. After talking with Minerva, he wondered if he was going to be able to get through the day without losing his temper, or worse, show some weakness in front of the Death Eater children.

Without saying a word, Severus guided Harry out of the room, his hand resting briefly on the boy’s back, before they walked up ahead through the hall. Harry was becoming more and more worried over his father, and several times started to say something only to fall silent. It was odd to feel so comfortable around the Potions Master and yet so awkward. The boy was not sure how he felt about his father at the moment. On the one hand, he was concerned for the man, as he had been hurt the previous night, but at the same time, he had watched his father strangle his godfather, someone Harry cared for very much.

“Sir?” Harry managed to say after what seemed like ages of just walking.

“We will discuss it later,” Snape said quietly.

Frowning, Harry wondered if Severus really knew what he was talking about. “About last ni-”

“Yes,” the professor cut off.

It was silent the rest of the way to the Great Hall. When they were almost there, Severus stopped suddenly, and Harry stopped along with him. “I am…I apologize,” the Potions Master said before Harry could even question the halt.

Looking down at his shoes, Harry was ceased with a curious feeling of guilt. He did not know why, but seeing his father in such a state made him feel as though he had done something wrong. It was weird, Harry hadn’t even done anything, and yet looking at the Potions Master before him, he was suddenly feeling terrible. Was it because of what Sirius had said to his father the night before, all those accusations? What did it feel like to be blamed for the murder of someone you loved? How did Severus feel when Sirius accused him of killing Lily?

Although it was too late to change anything, Harry knew he should have done something. While Sirius had been out of prison for a year now, there was still an insanity to the wizard. There was still something in Sirius’s eyes that told of his sad tale. Sirius’s eyes reflected his bitterness, his torment, his insanity clearly, in a way that strangely reminded Harry of his father’s eyes. But Snape’s eyes were colder than Sirius’s eyes, much colder, but if you could get underneath the ice and the hatred, Severus’s own story could be read. Harry had not been able to read everything about his new father, but he was getting there. He could see more than most now, and he understood enough to know that while Severus tried to portray a collected man, a wizard that could handle everything, he was still just one man, a tired one at that, that was being faced with too much at the moment.

“S’okay,” Harry said quietly. “I was just wondering if you were…you know, all right.”

“Perfectly.” It was a lie, and Harry knew it, but did not dare say anything. “We will talk later,” Snape repeated before he pushed Harry in front of him to walk into the Great Hall.

Walking in, Harry scanned the Gryffindor table to see Ron and Hermione sitting with Ginny and Neville. Ron flatly refused to look at Harry as he walked by, and Hermione gave him an apologetic look and a shy smile. Ginny looked down bashfully, as though she knew what she was doing was wrong, but did it anyway. Neville was the only one that seemed to come to terms with Harry’s resorting, and gave him an encouraging smile. And although Harry felt nothing short of terrible due to his friends cold behavior, he still managed a smile back to Neville, telling the other boy that he appreciated his kindness and understanding.

Sitting down at the table with a sigh, watching his father stalk up to the Head Table, Harry looked down at his breakfast options, knowing it was going to be a long day.

******

After breakfast was Herbology with the Ravenclaws. The class went on fairly well. Professor Sprout had them all turn in their summer assignments before pairing them up to transplant several flowering plants that Harry recognized as some he'd helped Severus with that summer when they had been making potions together. And as luck would have it, Harry had been paired with a Ravenclaw girl, a Brittney Kamman, who was an agreeable partner. She stayed quiet most of the time and did not stare at him too much or ask about his resorting or even scowl at him. It was rather refreshing. However, there was one time when Goyle, Crabbe, and Zabini tried throwing some rocks at him only to be stopped, thankfully, by Malfoy. Harry did not hear exactly what the blonde had said to the three, but he imagined it did not make them happy. It actually surprised Harry a little that Draco followed through with his promise.

After Herbology was over, and without having any more trouble, Harry packed up his things slowly, wanting everyone else to get out and pass him so he did have more trouble. “Thanks for being my partner,” Brittney smile shyly at Harry before she walked away, his honey colored hair in her ponytail bobbing behind her as she left.

Feeling a bit better about things, Harry stood up and started to walk away when he noticed that Theodore Nott was still there, staring out the door. Harry wondered if the other Slytherin was planning something when he happened to locked eyes with his House mate. When Nott saw Harry watching him, the wiry boy blushed profusely before he all but ran out of the greenhouse.

Finding that a bit odd, Harry decided not to waste any more time and decided that he should get to Charms class. On the way, he saw Ron and Hermione in the hall. He tried to call to them, but they did not hear him, and he was pushed by the crowd of panicking students to get to class. He felt a bit disappointed in not being able to see them, but decided not to let that ruin his day. It was odd though not to be with Ron and Hermione almost every minute of the day now.

Walking into the almost empty classroom, Harry saw Nott sitting by himself at a desk on the left side of the room, looking through a book. When he looked up to see that it was Harry, Theodore ducked back down into his book, muttered something to himself before he decided to ignore the former Gryffindor.

Harry sat down and stayed quiet as well. He had never really thought much about Nott, as the other boy never really did much to him. While Nott was a pureblood Slytherin, he never really did much, nor did he join any of Draco’s groups. It was strange, as Harry never really thought of a pureblood Slytherin being an outcast, but as he looked at it, he realized that Nott did not seem to want to join in with Malfoy’s group. It was strange, but at the same time Harry decided that he should be glad; that was at least, one less Slytherin he really had to worry about.

Professor Flitwick came in soon after, smiling and greeting the two Slytherin boys happily before he began looking over his notes. The other students started coming in then as well. The moment Draco was in the room, he scanned it, looking for Harry. He seemed to calm a bit knowing the other boy was there, before sitting down next to Zabini, who still seemed to be sulking after Malfoy scolded him. Crabbe and Goyle didn’t seem to remember that the blonde had been mad at them earlier at all.

Professor Flitwick was very animated as he gave his lesson, making Harry happier still. The day had started rather crummy, but it was getting better. Flitwick did not assign any group work, but Harry was content with working on a new charm by himself. Although he did miss hearing Ron and Hermione bicker over the pronunciations of the spell or how to hold the wand or flick the wrist.

The class ended with everyone turning in their summer work before getting their new assignments before going to lunch. It surprised Harry that Draco walked with him. It was awkward and full of tension, but the two rivals managed to walk to the Great Hall together without too much trouble. A few Gryffindor tried to use a tripping spell on Malfoy, but Harry seemed to still have some influence with them, and they quit before McGonagall came. Draco had not really said thank you to Harry, but lifted his head up high, as though he were a prince and Harry had only been doing his duty. Their relationship seemed only to be focused around duty and an unwilling truce it seemed, but Harry had to admit that it was better than constantly fighting with the blonde for hours.

Entering into the Great Hall though, Harry felt like Judas as he walked in with Malfoy. Ron saw them and his face screwed up into a nasty scowl before he looked away. Hermione looked a little confused, even a little hurt, but she still gave him a weak smile. Ginny, refused to even look up, and again, Neville was the only one to smile, and he gave a tentative wave at his former House mate. Harry grinned sadly at his friends and gave a short wave back.

As he sat down at the table, Harry began wondering just who Caesar was in his messed up life since he was apparently Brutus. He was going to say something to Draco when he noticed that the blonde had walked away, sitting a little further down with his group, leaving Harry alone again. It actually made Harry feel a little bit sad. He did not like eating alone, and even though his company was going to be Malfoy, it was still better than no one…at least he thought it would be. But that was not his luck, so he went about filling his plate before he ate quietly.

After a few minutes, Nott came over and sat near Harry, but did not sit next to him. At first Harry thought it was because the other Slytherin wanted to hear what Draco was talking about without being in the conversation, but after a while, Harry noticed that Theodore kept taking shy glances at another table. He could not be sure what table Nott was looking at or who, but Harry wondered if the other boy had some sort of plan running through his Slytherin mind.

Lunch seemed to take forever, but when it was finished, Harry took a deep breath to get ready for his last class of the day; potions. He saw Ron, Hermione, and Neville getting up to leave and grabbed his bag and ran after them. “Wait up!” he called.

Hermione and Neville stopped, but Ron kept on going. Hermione gave another shy smile before muttering a “How are you?” before excusing herself to go after Ron. Harry felt like he’d been slapped in the face when Neville placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about them, Harry,” he said kindly. “Hermione’s been trying to get Ron to come around all lunch period."

“Then why’d she run away too?” Harry asked sadly.

“She’s probably just scolding Ron, you know, like she always does,” the Gryffindor smiled gently.

“Yeah,” Harry was able to grin back. “Well Neville, shall we go to potions and get it over with?”

At this, Neville seemed to pale slightly and lost all courage. “I supposed,” he said quietly. “I just hope Snape’ll be in a better mood.”

“What do you mean?” Harry frowned.

“Ginny was telling us about him today. Said he was really foul yesterday, started giving out detentions and such to anyone that was 'out of line',” the young Longbottom seemed to quiver. “I even heard he gave someone a detention yesterday for ‘loitering’ in the hall when they had really just stopped to tie their shoe!”

The descriptions sounded like something Snape would do, but Harry tried hard not to be afraid, though it seemed Neville’s fear was catching. “Don’t worry too much,” Harry said confidently, feeling his Gryffindor courage rise for the first time in what felt like forever. “I hear Snape’s just extra irritable because he’s not so popular with the Slytherin students anymore,” he whispered. “Just do what you’re told in class, stay quiet, and you’ll be okay.”

The other boy did not look so confident, but nodded. Together, Harry and Neville walked down into the dungeons and made it to class right before Snape burst through the door in his usual dramatic fashion. It did not matter how many times Harry had seen the Potions Master do that trick, it always made him jump when the professor made his entrance.

Stalking up to his desk, the Potions Master conjured the class list and took attendance in a military fashion before he turned away to the chalk board. With a flick of his wand, he put up the instructions to a potion before spinning back around to face the class. “Hand in your summer essays,” he commanded bluntly, and everyone, even the most ornery Slytherin and Gryffindor obeyed instantly.

Once the essays were stacked up on Snape’s desk, he scanned the room with piercing eyes. Harry felt like his heart was going to give out. It felt just like his first year when he had first met the angry professor, and Harry was afraid that Snape was reverting back into his old self, forgetting their relationship the moment he'd walked into his classroom. But when Snape’s eyes landed on Harry, they swept over him just as quickly as everyone else.

The room was deathly silent, both Houses too afraid of the Potions Master at the moment to move. “Can anyone tell me what potion I have put up on the board?” Snape asked, once his inspection of the students seemed to be over. Hermione’s hand flew up.

“Miss Granger,” the professor actually called on the bushy haired girl.

For once, Hermione paused, as though she had raised her hand out of habit rather than actually knowing, and honestly did not seem to know what potion it was.“The Forgetfulness potion?” she seemed to guess.

The trademark sneer found its way back onto Snape’s face as he glared at her. “That is incorrect,” he growled bluntly before he looked around the room again, searching for another hand. It actually surprised them all that he had not deducted points from Gryffindor. “Mr. Potter,” Snape barked, making Harry feel as though his heart had just given out.

Taking a deep breath, Harry looked up to face his professor. “Sir?” he asked timidly, cursing himself for being so afraid.

“Enlighten us,” Snape sneered. “What potion is that?”

Looking at the board, really just wanting an excuse to look away from his father’s angry face, Harry looked over the list and was surprised that he actually knew what it was. “It’s the Deflating Draught, sir,” Harry answered obediently.

“Is it?” the Potions Master’s face was a mask, as he seemed to be playing more mind games, making Harry feel a bit ill.

But Harry knew that he was right this time. He had made this potion with his father over the summer several time while helping him stock the Hospital Wing. “Yes, sir,” he nodded slowly.

Snape stared at Harry a long moment before he turned away. “Five points to Slytherin,” the professor said as he used his wand to pass out several ingredients that were not standard in student kits.

While that was going on, Hermione gawked at Harry for a moment. She had tears in her eyes at being, in her eyes, humiliated in front of everyone. “How did you know that?” she whispered over Neville.

Unable to deny himself the pleasure of earning points in potions class, Harry could not help the smile that came to his lips. “I just remembered reading about it,” he shrugged.

 “Now then,” Snape snapped once everything seemed to be in order. “You are to work with a partner from a different House,” he glared at the room, daring a student to complain before he went on with his instructions on how to make the potion and what it should look like. “You have two hours. You may begin.”

Harry took Neville as his partner, knowing that the other boy had an acute fear of the Potions Master and would likely mess up because he was so scared. But Harry was determined to do well, and decided to help the poor Gryffindor. After all, Neville seemed to be the only real friend Harry had left, helping him in potions was the least he could do.

The two worked surprisingly well together, considering that Neville’s hands kept shaking. Harry did most of the cutting while Neville did the crushing part, and while Neville stirred, Harry would add in the ingredients when the time came to it.

While Neville was stirring, and he did not have much to do, Harry took a chance to look over the room. Hermione had gotten stuck with Draco while Ron was working with Crabbe. He also saw Nott working with Seamus, who was mostly just talking to Ron. Snape went over to them soon enough though and began his reign of terror and began deducting points left and right.

“Hey, Neville?” Harry asked quietly. “What do they guys say about me being in Slytherin now?”

Neville looked very uncomfortable at this, but did not back away. “You know…they’re just mad…and they say you’re a traitor.”

“It’s not my fault the Hat switched me,” Harry wanted to scream, but it managed to come out as another whisper.

“That’s what I keep telling them,” Neville nodded, but stared at the potion he was stirring. He seemed to be concentrating extra hard as he did not want Harry to get marked down because he had messed up. “But I think Ron will come around after a bit,” he added after glancing up to see Harry’s forlorn expression.

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry muttered as he added in the last salamander tail. “It says you need to stir it twenty-three more times clockwise before we should let it simmer for three minutes.”

The two waited as the potion finished before they waited with baited breath to see if the potion would come out the color it was supposed to. After the three minutes were up, the potion turned a light blue color. At that moment, Snape appeared behind them, peering over top of them to look at their work. The potion was only half a shade off the color it needed to be, and the two students waited to see what the professor, who had hated both of them in the past, would say.

After what seemed like forever, Snape did nod. “Adequate,” he said tightly before he walked away.

The two partners looked at each other before they both smiled broadly. That was the best they had ever done in potions before, and they had done it all by themselves. There was no sarcasm from the Potions Master or anyone there to make fun of them. To Harry and Neville, it was a great victory, even though it had not been perfect.

As everyone turned in their potions, there was only one group to get a perfect, and that was Hermione and Draco, who were both rather good at potions to begin with. “We’ll get that perfect next time,” Harry whispered to Neville, feeling strangely competitive all of a sudden.

“I’m just glad we passed let alone get an almost perfect,” Neville smiled.

When everyone turned in their potions, Snape went about assigning and explaining their new homework before gruffly dismissing them. Neville began to wait for Harry, when Harry shook his head. “No, go on, Neville, I’ll see you later. Maybe after dinner?”

“Sure. I’ll be in the library with Hermione.”

With those plans made, Harry slowly gathered up his things and just after a minute, everyone was gone, no one wanting to stay longer than necessary in Snape’s presence. And once Harry had straightened everything up, the doors closed and he turned back toward the front of the room to see Snape staring at him.

“You did well today,” the professor said rather gently. But no, Snape was no longer a professor at the moment, he was Severus  and that meant father. Beaming, Harry set his bag back down. “Thanks!” he glowed with pleasure.

“You would have gotten a perfect had Longbottom not crushed the beetles too fine.” Although Severus was not as harsh with Harry anymore, he was still Snape, and could not help but criticize it seemed.

“He did very good I thought,” Harry stuck up for the only true friend it seemed he had left.

“Well. It’s very well, not good,” Severus muttered before turning to erase the board. “And I was pleased the Longbottom managed not to explode a cauldron for once. Pity he broke his record of mealting a cauldron on the first day. He had it for three consecutive years.”

Although the statement was dripping with sarcasm and was a bit mean, Harry found himself chuckling. This was the Severus he liked, the one that acted like his father, the one that told jokes. He still hated the idea of having to hide their relationship, but on the other hand, Harry got the “fun” Snape all to himself and he didn’t feel much like sharing his new father anyway. “Yeah, well…he did do well.”

Severus rolled his eyes at the boy before turning to look Harry over, sobering immediately. “About last evening,” he began, causing Harry to stiffen. “I must…apologize again for my reaction to that m- to Black,” the Potions Master’s face darkened at the thought of the convict. “I should have kept better control. It will not happen again.”

Harry found himself feeling even more awkward than he had the first day he had spent with Snape in Llanfair. He had never thought it remotely possible for Snape to apologize, but here he was, doing it anyway. “Um, it’s okay…I was just wondering if you were all right, I guess.”

“Fine, thank you.” Severus seemed to be just as nervous as Harry.

After a tense pause, Harry was unable to help himself and blurted out, “Is Sirius still my godfather or not?”

Severus did not answer for a moment, but stared at his son for several seconds, as though trying to decide on what to tell the boy. “Technically speaking, no, Black is no longer your godfather,” he said, his eyes hardening when he spoke of the mongrel. “As I said, his rights were stripped when he was placed in Azkaban.”

Harry looked up at his father in despair. “But you said that the parents could give the rights back, didn’t you? You could make Sirius my godfather again?”

The hope in the child’s eyes was staggering, and seeing such hope in Lily’s eyes almost had Severus on his knees, ready to give in to the demands of the boy. But Severus and Sirius had too much bad blood between them for Severus to just grant the convict any rights over his son. “I could,” he answered tightly.

Knowing that he was perhaps asking for too much, Harry looked down at the floor again. He had been stupid to expect his father to make Sirius his godfather, especially after what had happened the night before. In fact, Harry decided not to count on seeing Sirius much after everyone found out that Snape was his father, because once the rouse was over, there was no way his father was going to let Sirius anywhere near his son. Actually, Harry was certain that Severus would do everything he could now to get him away from Black.

Seeing Harry suddenly deflated of his happiness- happiness that had been robbed of him the past few days, Severus felt badly for the boy. If only he could make Harry see just how much he hated Black, then Severus was sure the boy could get all thoughts of animagi out of his head. While the mutt paraded around as some kind of hero in the old tragic tales, strutting about as though he were the ultimate good, Severus knew better. Black was not as nice as he lead everyone to believe.

“I will think on appointing you a godfather later,” Severus promised, having realized that he should very well amend his will, knowing now that his life could very well be over soon with the Death Eaters out on the loose. He wanted Harry to be safe and looked after should anything happen.

Harry nodded, telling himself that he should have expected this from his father all a long, and not to take it so hard. After all, this had been a fairly good day, he should not spoil it.

“Yeah, okay,” he nodded after a moment.

“Let’s go to dinner,” Severus said gently, guiding Harry to the door in much the same manner as he had before.

As they were going, Harry suddenly stopped. “Dumbledore said that you were Draco’s godfather and the Malfoys gave you back that right after you had been arrested…Have you been in Azkaban? How did you get out?”

Severus froze at the question, and Harry watched his father intently. Obsidian eyes became vacant as he seemed to be looking at something that no one else could see. For a moment, Harry thought that perhaps his father had gone into some sort of trance, or that perhaps he was going to recite another vision, when he seemed to snap himself out of it. “You do not need to know about that yet,” Severus said quietly before pulling open the door.

Together, the two made their way up for dinner.

The meeting in the library that night was tense. Harry was still a bit sore with Hermione’s actions that day, and he found himself angry at her. He had every right, he thought, as she seemed to give him notice, only to snub him by walking away. If it had not been for Neville, Harry wasn’t sure he could be trusted in the same space as Hermione at the moment. But as soon as that thought occurred, it sounded far too much like something Snape would think, so he pushed it aside.

Walking over to the table the two Gryffindors inhabited, Harry gave an uneasy smile. “Hi,” he greeted softly.

“Hi, Harry,” Neville grinned easily, while Hermione gave her own awkward smile.

Sitting down with his two friends, Harry supposed that he could not just sit there and glare at Hermione, or talk to Neville the whole night, as it seemed Madam Pince was stalking about, kicking out students who “didn’t know what a library was for.”

Pulling out his books, parchment, quill, and ink, Harry set to work writing all of his homework that was due the next day. After the night before, he hadn’t had much time to do anything yet. Strangely, it made Harry feel terribly unorganized and even a bit vulnerable even though the year before he had put off doing his homework until the morning the assignment was due.

Looking back on it, Harry realized that he had never really liked doing that, but he always did it. That was what Gryffindors were supposed to do, right? Test the limits, see how far they could go? Well, Harry was in Slytherin now, and if a Slytherin wanted to test the limits they didn’t go head on. No, they studied the options, watched others, made plans, and that’s what Harry, in a since, had been doing his whole life; watching and waiting to see what he could and could not do. Strange, he had never thought of it as a particularly Slytherin trait, but after this summer, he was beginning to see just how Slytherin he really was. And if he hadn’t been much of one before, he certainly was one after the summer, after Snape had drilled study habits and homework at him, forcing him to come up with cunning ways to get out of chores or with getting what he wanted.

The three students sat very quietly next to one another for over ten minutes before it seemed Hermione had had enough of the silence. For just a moment, Harry pitied her. Only a few months ago, such a strained silence would have worn him down too, but after spending most of his time with Severus, a man that usually did not talk unless he had something important to say, Harry had learned very quickly to accept quiet. Keeping quiet had saved Harry and Severus several arguments, the boy was sure.

“Harry, I’m sorry,” Hermione blurted out.

Harry stared at her for a moment, trying to understand her rushed words, but she sighed and repeated, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to look like I was snubbing you, I just wanted to get Ron to come back and talk to you,” she blushed deeply. “I thought I could make him see reason.”

Although it was a good excuse, Harry was still a bit angry. He had always liked Hermione, but she had a tendency to miss the obvious, like how it looked bad to run away from a person that was supposed to be your friend. But then again, that was just Hermione, wasn’t it? She couldn’t really help it…not anymore than Harry could help being Severus’s son.

The sudden thought of his father chilled Harry for a moment. No matter how many times he and Snape talked together civilly, or ate together, brewed together, it always hit him in a strange way to actually refer to Snape as his father, even in his mind. At times, it was like nothing had changed between them, as Snape scowled blackly at him or snapped at him for doing something wrong, but there were also the times when he was surprisingly soothing or even, dare he think it, caring; fatherly?

Pushing that thought into the far corner of his mind for the moment, Harry tried focusing back on his friend. “It’s okay,” he tried to smile back. But was it? He had been really hurt when he had thought she had left him to take Ron’s side. The thought of Ron at the moment just had Harry seeing red, and he did not want to see Ron for a while. Ron had been a prat to Harry once too much, and Harry was convinced that if Ron still wanted to be his friend, then the other boy had to not only get his act together and apologize, but he had to show that he really did care about their friendship.

But Hermione didn’t seem to notice Harry’s pensive state at the moment, and instead smiled warmly at him. “Thanks,” she muttered softly. “Now then, what homework haven’t you done?”

A bit peeved that Hermione would assume that he hadn’t done any of his homework- never mind that he hadn’t really done any of it, Harry tried to calm himself down and remember how he used to act all the time when he was around the pushy little witch. “Well, I didn’t have time to do any of it last night because of a meeting with Dumbledore…and Snape.” He decided that it was wise to leave out Sirius, especially with Neville sitting there. But Harry wondered if he should not just include Neville in everything…

“Meeting? What meeting?” Hermione asked, a frown on her face. Because Harry was no longer in her house, she no longer knew where he was at what time, or what happened to him when he got back to the dorms. She did not like being left out of anything, nor did she like information being withheld from her.

“Just a meeting where I explained what happened over the summer with them,” Harry fought hard not to scowl. Why was he so annoyed lately? “And they just talked to me about being in Slytherin now and what’s expected of me,” he added. Technically speaking, that’s what the meeting was supposed to be about, but it had taken a rather…different turn.

Beside him, Neville squirmed uncomfortable. “That must have been terrible,” he winced in sympathetic pain. “Was Snape awful?” there was fear in his wide eyes.

Although someone else’s fear really wasn’t something to laugh about, Harry had a hard time not snickering at Neville. What would happen if the other boy found out that he was actually Snape’s son? Harry bet that after the boy fainted, he’d be very wary of him for a few days. But he was sure once Neville realized he wouldn’t try to suck his soul out through his eyes things would go back to normal between them more or less.

“He…wasn’t that bad,” Harry lied, and the other two knew it, but had no idea of what the truth actually was. “His actually been pretty good to me…overall.”

“What did he tell you when he found out you were in his House?” Hermione lowered her voice, but there was the unmistakable of excitement to it.

Thinking back on the first night after he had been sorted, all Harry could image at first was the absolutely panicked face of his father after he had grabbed him and sat him down once out of the Great Hall and all that he could hear was his father saying, “This is not good, Harry!” But all that aside, all Snape had said was to keep sharp and stay out of trouble, which of course, Harry was slightly insulted at as he never really got into trouble, trouble got into him…but the argument sounded much better in his head than actually saying it out loud.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Harry shrugged, frowning. “Just not to get into any trouble and ‘no more Gryffindor nonsense,” he tried to mock his father as best as he could. He was a little sorry he looked like James because he real face would have made it more like his father and therefore more humorous.

Hermione rolled her eyes while Neville looked worried. “You better be careful with him, Harry,” the other boy said. “If Snape’s mad at his own House there’s not much hope for the rest of us, is there? And he doesn’t like you at all.”

There was a moment when Harry truly wanted to argue that statement, but he decided that he had better not. It was better that everyone, except for those few students directly involved, to believe that everything was still, more or less, the same with he and Snape. If someone believed that the two might actually be, heaven forbid, tolerating, never mind liking each other, then Harry was sure he’d once again be thrusted into the spotlight, a place he did not want and did not like to be in. He had been doing a lot of thinking and he only wished that the Triwizard Tournament would come sooner so that everyone would switch their attention to that instead of to him being in Slytherin.

“Well, I think this year’s going to be a bit different,” Harry said dryly. “Snape doesn’t have a choice but to be nicer to me because Dumbledore won’t be so tolerating this year I think.” And it was true, Harry thought. Now that Snape was no longer a spy, no longer had to pretend to hate absolutely everything that breathed, Harry could not see the Headmaster putting up with too snarky man when it came to the students.

“Harry,” Hermione said lightly. “Perhaps you had better tell Neville what happened this summer,” she suggested softly.

As Neville’s eyes lit up with wonder and curiosity, Harry wished he could have hexed Hermione’s chair leg so she’d fall out. He did not really want to go around telling the whole school about his summer, and about how all of his friends thought he was dead. He had told the Weasleys and Hermione because he had trusted them above all else, which now he wondered if he should have trusted Ron; and even though he did trust Neville, Harry would have still liked to make the choice of when or if he told the other boy.

Neville must have seen Harry’s distress because he looked down at the table. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want, Harry. I understand.”

Those words successfully made Harry feel guilty, as though he’d just kicked a sick puppy, and he knew that he had to tell the other boy. After everything Neville had done for him that day, and in the past, he owed it to the Gryffindor. “I do trust you, Neville,” Harry started. “But this is a big secret.”

Neville’s round face nodded as he looked back up into the Slytherin’s green eyes. “Is it all about what happened this summer? I mean with everyone thinking you were dead?”

The question startled Hermione and Harry so bad that they were reduced to staring Neville like lack-wits with their mouths open. It took a moment or two, but Harry recovered to ask, “How did you know about that?”

Knowing that he had said something wrong, Neville blushed furiously. “Well, you see, my Grandmother told me,” he said quietly. “Dumbledore told her.”

At first Harry was quite surprised that Dumbledore would go around telling others about such a thing, but when he thought about it more, he supposed it made sense. After all, Neville’s parents were in St. Mungo’s because of their involvement in the war against Voldemort and he had been told that they had been part of the Order of the Phoenix the same as his own parents and step father; perhaps the Headmaster felt that it was the Longbottoms' right to know certain Order facts.

“Well, yeah, about that. But did he tell you or your Grandmother that Snape came to my house this summer?” Harry lowered his voice into a whisper. At Neville’s shocked expression, Harry went on. “Yeah, he got hurt by Death Eaters and was running from them. He was a spy for the Order, and I helped him out this summer.”

“Really?” Neville gasped. “And he…he didn’t do anything to you? I mean....you helped him?”

“What could I have done?” Harry shrugged. “And it wasn’t so bad, I guess. He was…a little…short with me at times, but it wasn’t as bad as school…sometimes.”

“Could he have had something to do with you being in Slytherin now?” Neville asked uncertainly.

The word ‘yes’ almost flew out of Harry’s mouth, but he kept it in. “I don’t think so,” he shook his head instead. “He was only there for a few days before he left,” Harry explained. “But I think that’s why he’s been so…tolerant of me so far, because I helped him.”

The other two nodded before changing the subject. Draco Malfoy came in later, sneering at the group before he went with Crabbe and Goyle to another section of the library. “I didn’t think those two would ever set foot into a library,” Hermione glared over at Malfoy’s two goons.

“I didn’t think they knew what a library was,” Harry snorted before turning back to his essays.

The three worked on their homework in silence for over an hour and a half before Hermione looked over and saw that Harry had finished his homework for the next day and was working on some that had been assigned that day. “You’re finished with your others already?” she asked doubtfully.

“Yes,” Harry frowned at his friend. “Why?”

“Nothing,” her eyes widened for a moment. “I just didn’t think you’d want to stay here and keep working on more once you were finished.”

“I might as well,” he turned back to his parchment.

“Well, I’m done with mine too,” Neville smiled. “What essay are you working on now, Harry?”

“Potions,” he answered without looking up. He had a hard time not biting his quill, like he used to, but the past summer when Snape had noticed him doing it, he said it was a disgusting habit, and set about reforming his son. It had been a rather tough lesson, considering Severus had gotten angry enough to put what Harry could still swear was hot sauce on the tip of his quill once. After that, he never really did it again.

“Harry,” Hermione spoke up again. “How did you know the answer to that potion today in class?” she asked, clearly frustrated.

“Huh?” Harry looked up. “Oh, I guess I just remembered reading about it,” he shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

The witch looked as though she were going to say something else when there was a sudden shadow cast over them. They all looked up to see Professor Snape standing above them.

The Potions Master sneered down at all of them before his snapped his eyes down on Harry. “It’s nine o’clock,” he said simply before turning towards the door. 

Sighing, Harry packed up all of his things and shoved them into his bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Are you in trouble already?” Hermione’s tone was accusing.

“No,” Harry snapped. “I just have to be in my dorm at nine. ‘It’s for my own protection,’” he mocked. “Night.”

“Good night, Harry,” Neville gave the best smile he could considering Snape was still there, glaring at him.

Once Harry was within reach, Snape pushed the boy in front of him out the door and into the hallway. Part of it was just for show, but he also did not want to boy’s back to be exposed, even if no students would dare try anything against Harry concidering Snape was with him now. But then again, Severus had never been a very trusting person, and he was not taking any chances. Dumbledore left the boy in his House so that Severus could protect him, and protect him Severus would.

The two walked on in silence for a while until they started going down into the dungeons. Severus stopped by his classroom and ushered Harry inside before closing that door. “I thought you were taking me to my room?” the boy asked.

“I am,” Severus nodded, “but I needed to get something out of my desk.”

While Severus walked towards the front of the deserted classroom, Harry shifted on his feet. “I noticed you began work on your potions essay,” Snape asked after a moment, closing his desk drawer with a sharp click.

“Yeah,” Harry set down his bag and walked up closer to the front of the room and leaned on a table. “Hermione was suspicious over my new study habits,” he smirked while crossing his arms.

Severus had to fight off a sneer as he saw, yet again, a very cocky James Potter in front of him. But he pacified himself with the thought that underneath all of that Potter-ness, the boy would be looking much more like him rather than anyone else. Another sense of satisfaction swelled up inside him at the thought. The image of James Potter rolling over in his grave appealed very much to the Head of Slytherin’s sense of vengeance.

“Was she?” Severus raised an eyebrow. “No doubt she was jealous of your success today in class.” He went over to sit on the table by his son.

At this Harry smirked. “Yeah, she did ask me about that. She doesn’t like being wrong. But it was nice of you not to take points off,” the boy’s green eye glistened with mischief.

Severus snorted. “She should not get use to it,” he growled. “It was a onetime thing.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” Harry chuckled.

Severus growled at the boy, but he had to admit that he liked this easy, teasing manner. It felt like the summer when they had both been calm. But thinking about the easy manner also led Severus to think about his son and Sirius Black and the night before. He still felt a bit cold from the morning’s confession, but he did his best to push his own discomforts aside at the moment.

“Will you continue to write to Black?” he asked after a moment, wanting to probe the boys thoughts without it looking too suspicious.

“Huh?” Harry looked at his father closely, who seemed to be staring intently at the bored. “I had wanted to. Why?” he scowled, seeming to come to a conclusion. “Do you not want me to?”

Ignoring the resentment, Severus shook his head. “No. I believe it would be wise for you to continue your correspondence with him,” he said slowly. “I believe that it would lessen suspicion.”

Surprised by the apparent concern to Sirius, Harry gawked at the Potions Master for a long time before his mind seemed to catch up to him. “Really?” he asked.

“Yes,” the professor nodded once. “It would seem odd for you not to write to him. Especially after last night’s…discussion.”

Although Harry was pleased, he could not help but frown. “So…does this mean that you’ll let Sirius be my godfather?” he asked carefully.

Scowling Severus could be seen fighting to keep the disgust of the thought off his face. “I have not had time to think about that,” he continued to glower at the thought of Black. How he would have liked to just erase Black from history, but the man had the happy ability to make everyone like him. It was revolting, but Severus knew that he could never really get rid of Black and still be happy.

The boy’s face fell at the news. “Oh,” he said lightly.

“Harry,” Severus stood and looked at the boy. “You must understand that I truly do not like Sirius Black. He and I have never gotten along.”

“Couldn’t you try to get along with him?” Harry pleaded, looking up with disarming green eyes.

Seeing Lily’s eyes sparkling up at him made Severus’s stomach clench painfully. “It does not work like that,” he frowned. “He and I have never gotten along, Harry.”

“But you still expect me to get along with Malfoy?” Harry snapped. “It’s not fair to expect me to-”

“Black and I have known each other much longer than you and Draco have known each other,” Severus growled. “Black has done more to me than simple pranks or starting pointless rumors.”

“But it’s still not fair.” Harry looked away from his father. “Malfoy hates me.”

“While I am sorry for that,” Severus crossed his arms, “this arrangement is for both of your benefit. I can watch out for you both.”

“Why do you still like Malfoy?” Harry found himself becoming a little jealous. “He hates you, and you still want to look out for him?”

“He is my godson,” Severus glowered. “And his life isn’t exactly what you think it’s been.”

Harry snorted. “It must have been hard having parents and being rich, getting everything he’s always wanted.”

Severus glared at his son fiercely. “I will not get into this with you,” he snapped wanting nothing more than to scream at the child like he would have last year just to relieve tension. “But as for now,” he said realizing that he was just making the day worse, “I believe it’s time for you to go back to your dorm.”

Harry pouted for just a moment before he saw his father’s face. Noticing that the man was livid, Harry opted to keep quiet. After all, Snape did have a rather nasty temper, and it truly did not take much to get him riled up.

With a sigh, Harry looked down at his shoes. “I’ll try to get along with him.” And he really did want to try. Draco wasn’t so bad in the truce, maybe things could be better if they tried to get along? It really couldn't hurt. If he failed to get along, Malfoy would still be a git, but at least Harry would know what he was up against.

“Very well,” Severus nodded. “And you will have to be very careful when writing to Black,” he almost winced at the name.

“I will,” Harry promised.

“Then come,” Snape walked towards the door. “I think it’s time for you to get back to your room.”

Harry stood and began to walk towards the door with his father and stopped. He did not like the thought of being at odds with the man after having such a good day. Why did they have to fight over Malfoy anyway? He wasn’t worth that. “I’m, uh…I just…” he started, but did not know what to say.

Severus seemed to understand the meaning of the boy’s rambling and he nodded. “Yes,” he acknowledged.

Not knowing what he was really doing, Harry found himself hugging the Potions Master around the waist, not caring if he felt like a four-year-old. “Thanks. For everything.”

The day’s tension and misery melted off of Severus like a sheet of ice, and wrapped his arms around his son, holding him close. “There is no need for thanks,” his voice was soft and soothing.

Perhaps the day had not been as terrible as he had thought?

The next morning, after sleeping so soundly, Harry woke up to find that he was running late. He shot up out of bed and grabbed his glasses and shoved them on his face. Looking at the clock on his nightstand, he realized he had slept in by twenty minutes, which meant that his father was going to be there to get him in ten. “Shit!” Harry mumbled as he hurriedly grabbed his clothes.

Racing over to the bathroom door, Harry found to his distress, that it was locked. Snapping his head over to his roommate’s side of the room, Harry discovered that Malfoy was already up and had apparently locked himself into the lavatory. It was typical Malfoy decided to get up early the day Harry was running  late!

Pounding on the door with his fist, Harry scowled darkly at the wood in between him and the shower. “Hurry up, Malfoy! I need to get ready!” he called out.

There was no reply, meaning that either Malfoy had not heard him or he was ignoring Harry. Either way, it irritated Harry so much that he almost decided to spell open the door anyway. Snape was never a very patient man, and Harry had no desire to find out what the Professor would do if he were late. Would he give him a detention, or just lecture him on the merits of being punctual?

“Hurry up, Malfoy!” Harry shouted, hitting the door harder.

“Shut up, Potter!” came a nasty reply. “I just got in here!”

“Well I’m supposed to leave in eight minutes,” Harry retorted. “Get out of there! You can have time after I leave!”

Once more, there came no reply, and Harry was furious. Why did it have to be Malfoy his father was godfather of? Why not someone else? Anyone else would have been fine, but no, it had to be Malfoy! His father must have been wrong about the blonde, Draco Malfoy was not some sad victim in the game of life. He was an exploiter of others, manipulating life and everything else to his advantage. Malfoy definitely did not need Snape to watch over him, too. As far as any of them knew, Malfoy was probably plotting to kill the Potions Master.

“Hurry up!” Harry pounded on the door once more, furiously.  

A moment later, the door opened to reveal a well-groomed looking Draco. The blonde smirked wickedly at Harry before walking over to his bed to put on his shoes. Harry spared only a second to scowl at the other boy before he rushed into the lavatory to get ready. He only had five minutes!

Knowing he wouldn’t have time for a proper shower, Harry started the sink and began getting dressed. Scrambling and fumbling, the boy changed before he stuck his hair under the sink and washed it. It wasn’t the best job he’d ever done washing his hair, but at the moment, he didn’t really care. And even though he would have loved to take a shower, he did not want to take longer than necessary. He would not get a lecture today. He would not!

After rinsing his head once more, Harry dried it quickly with a light spell, not caring that it was particularly unruly that day. He put on a bit of extra cologne a nd brushed his teeth all at the same time, before he burst out of the bathroom and to his bed where he yanked on his shoes.

“Merlin, Potter!” Draco exclaimed when the door slammed up against the wall. Truthfully, Draco didn’t know how anyone could get ready so fast, but he knew that the other boy was at least clean from the looks of his hair, which was no longer greasy from the night.

Scowling at the blonde, but not wasting a moment, Harry crammed his books into his bag before he looked around the room, trying to figure out what else he needed. Not able to think of a thing as he had his glasses, wand, and books, the raven-haired boy all but sprinted out of the room.

Draco watched him go; a bit disappointed that he had not been able to make Potter late.

Running up the stairs, Harry skidded to a halt in the C ommon Room before his father. The Potions Master scowled down at him before turning to walk out of the portal door. Harry followed, cursing Malfoy under his breath. Little fink! Harry thought darkly. I’ll have to think of something to get you in trouble with Snape.

Once out in the hall, Severus turned to look at his son. The boy’s hair was wild and he seemed to be panting a bit. The boy’s shirt was not tucked in very well, nor was his tie tied correctly. The boy’s trainers were also untied, and for a moment Severus found himself worrying that Harry would trip on the stairs and break something. Severus knew from experience what it was like falling down the stairs, and he certainly did not want his son to have to face such an occurrence.

“Tie your shoes,” Severus growled at the boy. His worrying always came out harsher than he intended it to.

Sighing, Harry set his bag aside and knelt down to quickly tie his trainers. Harry scowled fiercely at his shoes, and it was amazing that he did not set them on fire. He was so angry with Malfoy that he wasn’t sure how he was going to manage the day. It was so unfortunate that they had all their classes together today. Harry would have dearly loved to just get away from the blonde for several hours, but no, it was his luck that he got stuck with the fink all day.

Had such an event not taken place first thing in the morning, Harry would not have minded so much, and would have probably let it go, seeing as it really was not that big of a deal. But if there was one thing that Harry had learned when coming to Hogwarts and not having to sleep in a cupboard or do chores all day, was that he was not a morning person. He liked to stay up late at night and then get up later in the morning. Despite all this, he still had to get up early, which he did quite gracefully if he could say so himself, as long as he had a schedule. It was when Harry’s schedule was broke or interrupted when his true displeasure with the early hours showed the most.

Once the younger wizard was up, the two Slytherins walked down the hall and up towards breakfast. Noticing that his son was less than pleased with something, Severus decided that it was his duty as a father and also as the boy’s Head of House to find out what was wrong. The boy really did look angry.

“Why were you late this morning?” he asked softly, not wanting his voice to carry.

“Because of Draco Bloody Malfoy, that’s why!” Harry growled viciously. “He locked himself into the bathroom all morning and wouldn’t come out and he was just trying to make sure that I wouldn’t be on time to meet you, the prat!” he finished angrily.

Severus was pleased that he had limited his reaction to a mere raise of the eyebrow. And here he had been worried that the boy wouldn’t want to open up and talk to him. Although normally Severus did not like being proven wrong, he was pleased for it this one instance. Slowly Severus was starting to piece together the puzzle that was his teenage son, but he did know now for certain that Harry would talk openly if he could complain about Draco. That could be something useful in the future.

“He got up earlier than you just to make sure you were late?” the Potions Master asked. He could not really see Draco doing such a thing only because the blonde never wanted to get up in the mornings for anything, so for him getting up earlier than Harry just to spite the other boy was really taking the extra step for the blonde.

“Well…I did get up late, but he made sure he was taking his sweet time getting ready this morning,” Harry grumbled. “I told him I needed to get ready but he just took all the time in the world!”

“Hmm,” was all Severus thought he should say. He had no doubt that Draco would try and detain Harry if he thought it would get the former Gryffindor into trouble, but it was partially Harry’s fault if he didn’t get up. Draco would use anything to his advantage; even a few minutes time could be just what the Slytherin would need.

“He’s such a prat!” Harry growled on. “He just…he just does everything to sabotage me!”

“No doubt,” Severus said easily, shocking Harry enough so that the boy looked up at his father in confusion. “You should not give him anything to work with,” he clarified.

“It’s not my fault!” Harry stopped and crossed his arms. “He just…he’s always trying to get me into trouble for anything! He’s just so annoying!”

“He’s only being a nuisance because he knows he can annoy you so easily,” the Potions Master thought back to himself at that age and of James Potter and Sirius Black. “Ignore him or pretend that you’re not bothered by him and he’ll lose interest soon enough.”

“That’s always what Hermione tells me,” the younger wizard grumbled.

Frowning, Severus pushed his son forward so that they were walking again. “Well she’s right,” he was slightly pained to have to admit that the little know-it-all was right, but the advice was good…for once. “Anyone can see that it is true if they’ve ever watched animals.”

“You’re comparing Draco to an animal?” Harry smiled wickedly. “Does that mean I can call him a swine without you yelling at me?”

Although Severus wanted to inform him that if the term animal applied to Draco it very well could apply to him as well, he restrained himself. At least the boy had stopped scowling. “Just don’t let me hear it, but otherwise I really don’t care.” He could let his son have his momentary victory. After all, Severus had had much worse names for the Marauders. Much worse. If Harry could be appeased with ‘swine’ then Severus supposed that there were worse words.

Smiling more menacingly by the minute, Harry decided that he liked talking to his father. While Severus had been rather stuffy, treating him like he’d never been on his own before at first, he was coming to realize that the man could also be rather open. It pleased Harry to know that his father was not going to chastise him for either disliking Draco or calling him names. For a moment, Harry was reminded of what he had always thought an older brother would do. Could parents also be fun like this too, or was Severus still not used to being a father quite yet?

“I did, however, want to warn you about Moody,” Severus went on.

No, Severus was definitely more like a father than a brother, Harry decided. “What about him?”

“I don’t think you should speak in his class unless spoke to,” the Potions Master’s face took on a very grim countenance. “He’s an ex-Auror and not to be messed with.”

“If he’s an ex-Auror, then why do I need to worry about him?” Harry frowned. “He should like me since I destroyed Voldemort years ago.”

Snape flinched slightly at the name of his former master, but made sure that he quickly regained his composer. “Perhaps, but I do not know if his magical eye can see through your glamours.”

“What?” Harry looked up at his father, horrified.

“The spell that your mother created is much different than many of the traditional glamours, so I am not sure what he can see,” Severus explained. “I assume he cannot see through it since he has not commented upon it as of yet, but I do not know what all that eye of his can do or what he would do to you if he could see through it.”

Harry suddenly became afraid. He had never thought about someone looking through his glamours, primarily because he had been wearing it all of his life and no one had seen through it yet. But could this magicked eye see that he was not really a Potter but a Snape? He did not want to find out what would happen.

And again, another thought plagued the boy. “Sir? When Moody came here, you…uh, you made it clear that you don’t like him.”

Harry watched as his father’s dark eyes seemed to cloud over for a moment and the black eyes seemed to become blacker. “No. I do not,” Snape said tightly.

Swallowing, Harry decided to go on. “But, sir…why don’t you like him?”

Turning on Harry so quickly the boy almost fell backwards, Snape leaned down to face the boy. “Alastor Moody may have been an Auror and part of Dumbledore’s blasted Order, but that does not mean that he is a good person, Harry,” the Potions Master’s eyes burned with a cold fire. “Even ‘heroes’ can abuse their power.”

A shiver ran down Harry’s spine as he looked into his father’s furious, and yet pained, face. That’s when everything suddenly came together for Harry. He had not had much time to think over it due to his own personal life crisis, but now that he stared at his father, it all suddenly made sense. Alastor Moody was an Auror, his father had been a Death Eater before he had turned spy, Dumbledore had said that his father had been arrested, his father had been so upset over Moody being hired by the school that he threatened to leave, his father was worried over him because of Moody…

“Sir?” Harry asked very quietly. “Did Moody…was he the one that arrested you?”

Snape recoiled instantly at the statement as though he’d been slapped. He stared down at his son with a blank expression for a long moment. Although he had known the clues to his imprisonment had been lying around for Harry to easily pick up, Severus could not deny that he had been hoping the boy would be too concerned over his own affairs to worry about him. He had not wanted his son to know that he had gone to prison but as always, Dumbledore had made sure that all private information he had was exploited.

Severus did not want Harry to worry over him, not when his own personal life was not going so well, but the boy did look determined. “Yes,” he answered shortly. “But you should not concern yourself over what happened years ago.”

The two continued to walk until they were to the Great Hall. They remained silent, and once Harry was safely seated at his table, Severus walked towards his own seat where he could look after the boy. Harry might have known that his father had been in prison, but Severus would be damned before he let on to just how terrible his imprisonment had really been.

*******

All day long Harry had to walk from class to class with the worry of his new teacher, Professor Moody, the uneasiness that this man had arrested his father, and having to put up with the annoying rat that was Draco Malfoy. While Malfoy did not do anything that would warrant a detention or the wrath of Snape, he was pushing his luck as far as Harry was concerned. But what the former Gryffindor could not understand was how the blonde could be making all those rude comments, flicking paper at his head every now and then and somehow still keep the other Slytherins off of him. Did Malfoy really have that much influence?

By the afternoon, Harry was standing on his last leg. He was furious with his roommate and yet knew that if he punched Malfoy in the face his father would be less than pleased. He might have been the Potions Master’s son, but that did not mean the man would spare him a detention. Snape would probably give him more just because of the fact!

But when it came time for Defense class, all the Slytherins were a bit nervous. No one knew much about Moody as a professor, but they all seemed to have a good understanding of Moody as an Auror. And since more of the Fourth Year Slytherins had Death Eater parents, Harry included he was stunned to realize, Moody might not be as forgiving to them as he would be over all of the other Houses.

The door opened to reveal the mangled looking man himself. The wooden leg echoed faintly off the walls of the room. Once before the c lass, the former Auror looked over his class with his mismatched eyes, scowling at all of them. Harry’s blood ran cold when the magicked eye stared at him.

The Professor simply stared at all of the students for a moment, as if trying to look for Dark Marks. “As you all know,” Moody barked to the class, “my name is Alastor Moody. I expect you all to call me either Professor Moody or sir. Nothing else for you,” he glared hard at all of them once more. “And I expect you all to get your homework to me on time, without any of you trying to talk your way out of it,” he glared particularly at Malfoy.

The old Auror walked towards the board, his speech seemingly having been forgotten, until he turned on the class once more with his wand in hand. “Now, you all know that there are three Unforgivable Curses in the wizarding world.”

Caught off guard, all of the students scrambled to get out their parchment and quills to take notes. Continuing to glare, Moody looked about the room, his scared face was enough to keep even the liveliest Slytherin down. “I’m sure you can all name these curses,” he mocked, “so, Mr. Malfoy,” he turned towards the blonde, his stance threatening. “Name one.”

For once, Draco did not look even remotely comfortable. His gray eyes were a bit wide, but he fought valiantly to keep the fear out of them, though Harry could see it, and he was sure Moody could too. “The Imperius Curse,” he answered trying to sound uncaring, but it did not come out as so.

“Yes, you would mention that one,” Moody smiled nastily. “Your parents were under the Imperius in the First War, were they not?”

Draco colored, but nodded his head, looking like he would much rather die than have to sit there in class with the ex-Auror. For just a moment, Harry found himself pitying Malfoy, but as soon as he realized what he was doing, he shoved all those feelings away and decided that the blonde deserved it. After all his parents were bad. Harry’s father had redeemed himself, realized that he had made a mistake and had turned to the Light. Draco deserved no pity for what was only true.

“You, Nott!” Moody growled, calling out another victim. “Name another curse.” It almost sounded like a dare.

The quiet boy seemed to have paled a shade or two, but he gulped down his fear a bit better than Malfoy. “The Cruciatus Curse,” he answered bravely, yet he was very quiet.

Moody, again, smiled nastily at Nott, like he had done to Malfoy only a moment ago. “Yes,” he nodded. “I knew of one Death Eater that was particularly good at this curse. So good, he actually got a rather interesting reputation out of it. Didn’t he, Mr. Nott?”

Much like Draco, Theodore looked ill, his color draining from his face as he snapped his eyes down to look at the top of his desk.

The room was eerily silent as all the students prayed that Moody would not choose them next. There was something about the man that Harry did not trust. His father had been right though, on this score; Moody did not seem to be the type of man that should teach children. Not that Snape had been much better, but at least he hadn’t called every student out on what their parents had done…just Harry…and now Harry realized that all of those insults fell away considering every time the Potions Master told Harry how stupid his father was it was really referring to Snape. Ironic.

“There is one more curse,” Moody scanned the room. “Anyone care to take a guess?” he sneered. “Mr. Potter.”

Taking a gulp, Harry did his best to use a bit of Gryffindor courage, even though he was no longer one. “The Killing Curse?”

“Yes,” the Professor nodded. “The Killing Curse or more correctly, the Avada Kedavra.” The way the man said it made Harry squirm with discomfort. “Avada Kedavra's a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it - you could all get your wands out and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I'd get so much as a nosebleed.” He almost seemed like he was mocking everyone in the room, daring them to try.

“Now,” Moody walked to his desk and took up a jar. Inside, Harry noticed was a spider. “Let’s see how these curses work, shall we?”

Moody unscrewed the lid of the jar and levitated the spider out onto the desk and enlarged it so that it looked more like one of the spiders that came from Hagrid’s old pet, Aragog. “Imperio!”

The class watched in stunned amazement as the Professor began to make the spider dance around on the desk like it was a tap dancer. At first, no one knew what to think as they were torn between knowing that the curse was ultimately bad and laughing at the silly antics Moody was having the creature perform. It was only when the spider began to squeal in protest did the snickers begin to die down.

The smile that had graced Moody’s gnarled face as he used the Imperius curse suddenly vanished as he screamed, “Crucio!”

The spider instantly let out a terrible scream of pain, its body wreathing in agony. And even though most of the children in the room had Death Eater parents, none of them laughed as they watched the innocent creature being tortured in front of them. In fact, several of the more prominent Death Eater children had to look away. They did not like to be reminded of what their parents actually did to other people.

“Stop it!” It surprised Harry that it was Draco that shouted out for the Professor to stop.

Moody let out what sounded a bit like a giggle before he ended his torture. The spider sagged in relief and twitched from its damaged nerves. But just as all the students began looking forward again, Moody suddenly yelled, “Avada Kedavra!”

With wide, horrified eyes, the students watched as the spider ceased to move. They all looked towards the creature’s murderer and found the man sneering back at all of them. Several of the girls had tears in their eyes, not because they particularly liked spiders, but to see any creature tortured so extensively before it finally met a painful end did not appeal to any of them. 

“See what can be done with the Dark Arts?” Moody asked, a mad twinkle in his good eye. “Just remember that when any of you wants to make mischief,” he growled.

The room fell silent and Harry could not help but pale as the threat was issued. His hands shook ever so slightly as he fought to keep from falling out of his chair just from the astonishment. He did not like the demonstration at all. The flash of green light reminded him too much of the nightmares he had of his mother’s death.

“Only one person’s survived the Killing Curse,” Moody went on. “And he’s sitting in this room.”

Everyone who could tear their eyes away from Moody looked to Harry. The raven-haired boy did not like the attention in the least. He did not like all eyes on him, especially since he was not quite at his best at the moment. His hands were still trembling, but he grasped them underneath his desk so that no one would notice.

“I wonder how you did it, Mr. Potter,” Moody said as he walked close to Harry. “But I do not believe you could do it again.”

As the ex-Auror walked to the board, Harry let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He chanced to look over and locked eyes with Draco. The two boys were both pale, and it was in that moment that, despite their disagreements and their childish acts that morning, they both realized that they were going to have to be very careful, lest they incur the wrath of Moody. And in that one silent glance, they seemed to both agree not to do anything to each other in that class because they had no desire to know what the crazed new DADA Professor would do to them.

Harry hurried down to the dungeons after classes. Once finished, he’d jumped up and immediately headed for his father’s office. He was more than unnerved due to Professor Moody’s “lecture” for the day. Actually, it was more like sitting in a classroom with the old Snape, only this professor hated everyone in the room.  In many ways, Moody was ten times scarier than Snape had ever been.

Coming closer to the door of Snape’s office, Harry overheard talking…well, it was very close to yelling actually. But what surprised Harry was the fact that not only was the door slightly ajar, but the angry voice within was not the Potion Master’s at all, but rather the voice of a much younger man, one that Harry was sure he’d heard, but could not place at the moment.

Harry stopped just outside the door, and he wondered if he should knock or just come back later when his father didn’t seem to be so busy. Was it really snooping if he happened to overhear what was being said? Would his father or the student inside be angry with him if they knew he could hear them?

“-and not only did he continue to frighten Tommy here- and take away fifteen points, he even went as far as to make loose threats to him about his family!”

“While I understand your outrage, you must calm yourself, Mr. Sellick,” came Snape’s smooth, yet forceful reply. “I will see to mat-”

“No! This is not to be tolerated!” the prefect growled.

“Nor is your disrespect and interruption,” Snape snapped. “Now, rest assured that I will be having words with the Headmaster about this.” The deadly threat clearly rang in the Potions Master’s words. “This will not happen again if I have any say in the matter, Mr. Ericson, Mr. Sellick.”

It was then that Harry heard the sound of slight sniffling. Although he could not quite remember- what with everything he’d been through so far this year, Harry guessed that it was a first or second year in there with the prefect. The little boy must have gone to Sellick, and then together they had gone to Snape. And although Harry did not know for sure whom the two were complaining about, he’d bet that Moody had been foul in every Slytherin class so far.

“Thank you, sir,” came Sellick’s determined growl, along with a more timid, “Thank you, sir,” from little Tommy Ericson.

It was then that Harry knocked on the door, and not a second later, it opened to reveal the tall seventh year, followed closely by a still sniffling first year. The prefect looked a bit surprised to see Harry standing there, but he recovered quickly enough, and though it was obvious he did not like the former Gryffindor, he did not want to cause any trouble while Snape was right inside the door. “Potter,” he nodded before he stalked off with the littler Slytherin in tow.

Harry stood in the doorway a moment, wondering if he should go in or just run away and go to his room to study or do his homework. “Come in,” Snape’s voice was harsh, making up Harry’s mind for him.

Walking through the door, Harry found his father with his back turned, his hands firmly grasped behind him, as he seemed to be looking through his book collection that was neatly sitting on his shelf. From how white the man’s knuckles were, the boy figured that his father had to be pretty angry about the topic of his last discussion. The professor’s stance was also defensive and rigid, alerting his son that he was more furious than one thought at first glance. But then only those that really knew Professor Snape could have seen this and understood what it meant.

“What have you to say about Professor Moody?” the older Slytherin asked roughly, his anger still at the surface.

“I, um, just wanted to tell you about what he did in my class, is all,” Harry spoke quietly, lest he set the Potions Master off again.

Severus turned around sharply, and stared at his son for a long moment. It appeared as though Harry caught the man off guard, which spoke volumes of how distracted the Potions Master had been. Composing his face into a calm mask, Snape nodded towards the door. “Close it,” he said bluntly.

Knowing better than to hesitate, Harry closed the door quickly. He turned back around to see that his father’s stance had visibly changed from aggressive to simply tired. Sympathy shot through the boy as he thought about everything his father was going through so far this term. For the past several days Harry had been worried about himself and everything that happened to him, but he realized again that his father had so much more to contend with. Besides just teaching and grading, the Potions Master was also the Head of House, he brewed for the hospital wing, he was fighting for control over his House, he had to worry about Harry being in his House now, and he was also butting heads with not only the Headmaster, but with Moody now as well. It was no wonder the man was exhausted.

“Sit,” Severus ordered. He was on the verge of either screaming and crying or just breaking everything that he could get his hands on. There were really no words to describe how furious he was with Moody for what he had done to his Slytherins, or with Dumbledore, for that matter, for hiring the crazed ex-Auror in the first place.

Even though Severus was not looked on kindly by many of his young serpents anymore, he was still fiercely protective of them. They were all still children, after all, and even though they might have formed several biased opinions of him, Severus was still more than willing to look after them. He knew he would have to work hard to raise their esteem of him again; and even though he might not be as adored as he had once been, he was still ready to risk it for their overall good.

Many of the Slytherin children had Death Eater family members, and Severus knew all too well the horrors of what awaited his students should they decide to join the ranks of the Dark Lord. If there were anything he could do to prevent them that fate, he would gladly do it. Service to the Dark Lord was not something they could simply change their minds about if they decided they no longer wanted to serve him. It was a lifelong commitment; one that usually ended up being a rather short commitment to be truthful if one was not smart enough.

After some time and reflection, Severus had actually been stunned when he realized just how much it hurt him to have many of his House members despise him. When he had come to teach at Hogwarts nearly thirteen years ago, Severus had been a broken man, tortured with guilt and depression. Nothing had sparked his interest the way it used to, and with each passing day, he had become more and more bitter, realizing everything he had given up or lost. He had believed that his chance for a family was gone forever, and that he would never be loved since his precious Lily had gone. But something within him had refused to accept that he would never have some sort of family.

Instead, Severus, unknowingly at the time, had made his House his family. When other Houses berated his Slytherins after the First War, he had found himself berating them back. The more comfortable he got in teaching, the more comfortable he became with using his authority to protect and look after his serpents. In every sense of the word, Severus had slowly begun to think of himself as their father, and his snakes his children. He would do anything for them, and all he asked for in return was their respect and obedience, which they gave willingly. It was in this way that the Potions Master had filled the void in this heart to a certain degree.

It was only within the past week or so, when taking care of Harry, that Severus actually realized how much he viewed himself as the father over the Slytherins. He had told himself in the past that all of his actions were simply because Slytherins stuck together and that, in part, his bias for his House was to keep suspicion off of himself from the Death Eater families. But now that Severus had had a true taste of fatherhood this past month, he realized that his past actions had been very similar in many cases. In a sense, he treasured his Slytherin students, as he was now learning just how much he treasured his own son.

Even now, with his brood furious with him, someone had come and started harassing his children, and Severus could not have been more enraged. Despite their disgust at him, many Slytherin students had come to their Head of House to talk or complain about Alastor Moody and his treatment of them. It seemed that the old Auror was not treating Severus well at all either. Although he was livid with the Defense professor, Severus could not also help but be relieved that his students were coming to talk to him. In some way, they still did care for and trust him, and for that, Severus was glad.

But coming back from his thoughts, Severus looked out to see the face of his son sitting before him. The boy looked concerned, even a bit worried. Just thinking that Moody might have harmed Severus’s son in some way secured the Potions Master’s eternal fury. Messing with his House was bad enough, but harassing his son was something Severus could not forgive. In fact, he still did not forgive himself for all of the abuse he had caused his child over the years…

“Did Moody do something to you?” Snape asked tightly, his face lined with anger.

Harry sat in his chair, fidgeting for a moment as his father’s black eyes burned into him. “Well…not really. I…I mean, I was just…concerned about that class.”

“He showed you the Unforgivable Curses as well?” At Harry’s nod, Severus had to fight down, yet again, the desire to run to the Defense professor’s office and demonstrate the Unforgivable Curses on him.

Unable to remain seated, Severus stood up quickly, startling Harry, and pacing back and forth behind his desk for few moments, trying to vent some of his anger out in his clipped movements. It was not working.

Harry frowned and started chewing on his lower lip in agitation as he watched his father. “Did he…did he show them more than just my class?” he asked timidly.

“To every fourth year and above,” Snape snapped ferociously. “And for the younger students he settled for showing them curses that were merely boarder line Unforgivable,” the professor’s eyes flashed dangerously.

Hearing the news, Harry winced. It had been terrible to see such curses at his level and at his age. He could not quite believe that the Professor would show something similar to the Unforgivables to any of the younger students. Harry had to admit, at least to himself, that he had been quite frightened and had felt physically sick while watching his DADA professor. It was no wonder Tommy Ericson had cried and had been disturbed enough to actually go to the prefect and then to Snape.

“What are you going to do about this, sir?” Harry asked quietly, not quite knowing how he could help his father, and at the same time, he was compelled by curiosity to know what was going to be done.

Severus stopped his frantic movements and looked over his son once more. The child looked worn and exhausted. But then, who would not have been after everything the boy had gone through? It was taking its toll on them both, running from Death Eaters while hiding their relation to the world. And yet, every time Severus was around the Headmaster or around others, he could not bring himself to tell his secret. What would the Headmaster do? What would the other professors do?

With this new complication with Moody, Severus was determined now more than ever not to give anything away. The Auror was a lunatic, that much was obvious, but he was also a man that did not like Slytherins it seemed. Not only was Harry in Slytherin now, which meant that Moody was going to be watching him even more closely than other children, but if Severus were to announce that Harry was his son, or if the Ex-auror found out…

The thought made the Potions Master feel queasy at best. There was no doubt in his mind that Moody would raise all kinds of hell about the situation. If Moody knew then it would not be too long before the whole world knew that the Harry Potter, and the infamous Potions Master suspected of collaboration with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named were father and son it would hit the papers and the Wizarding World would be turned upside down.

No, for Harry’s safety, Severus did not want to tell. They were both walking on thin ice already. To have another drastic change occur so soon would not end well for anyone, least of all Harry. So, for his son’s sake, Severus knew he would have to do everything within his power to protect the boy from the Headmaster and the new, immediate threat of Moody.

“I shall have another talk with the Headmaster,” the Potions Master said softly as he eased himself back into his chair.

“Another talk?” Harry’s eyes widened slightly in panic at the thought. “But aren’t you in trouble with him right now?”

“I don’t really care how pleased he is or is not with me at the moment,” Severus snapped. “This ordeal with Moody cannot be overlooked. No matter how fond Albus is with neglecting his duties as Headmaster, he will see to this.”

There was a moment when Harry seriously thought his father might actually murder the older wizard, and it was in this instant that he almost pulled out his wand to stun the Potions Master just in case. There was something chilling about the way his father controlled his fury. The older Slytherin did not show the hot fire of contempt and wild impulsiveness that he had had when he met with Sirius. No, this time, the wizard’s rage was cold, a calm iciness that was actually far more menacing that any outbursts of anger.  Loss of control could be more or less predictable in the order events would go, this calculated vehemence could not always be understood, nor could it be followed.

“But…you’re not going to get into a fight with the Headmaster again, are you?” Harry could not help what he said. He was so afraid that if he did not say something that his father might end up getting sacked, or worse. The Headmaster was not a fool, and not to be underestimated in any situation. Harry knew his father knew this, and yet he hoped that the older wizard would not get into something he could not get out of.

The question struck Severus in an odd way. It was true that he had been getting into increasingly more arguments with the old wizard, but he had not had the time to reflect upon how it was all affecting his students or his son. The tension between himself, the Headmaster, and Moody was more than likely clearly seen by the students and other staff members no matter how hard they tried to cover it all up. Over the last several days Severus had really not bothered to hide his displeasure with either Dumbledore or Moody, and only now was he beginning to regret it as he looked into sad green eyes.

“I do not want a confrontation between the Headmaster, but if that is what it takes to get him to open his eyes on this matter, then so be it,” the Potions Master said sternly. “This is inexcusable.”

“But what if the Headmaster gets angry again?” Harry stood and looked up at his father with determined eyes. “What if he sacks you? You’ll have to leave the castle, and then where will you go? And what would happen here?”

Again, Severus looked into the shining emerald eyes that he loved so well. His expression hardened; he could not back down from this. The students needed him, and he could not let the Headmaster or Moody or anyone else harm them, even if it was unintentional. Besides, without him, who was to watch to make sure none of his snakes got pushed farther into the arms of the Dark Lord’s minions? And what would happen to Harry?

“He’d be a fool to get rid of me, Harry,” Severus said softly. “He could not afford to. Besides, this is not a personal matter, as before. This has to do with school codes not to mention the very law. If he were to sack me, he would have to have very creative lies to cover up his actions as I am merely reporting a complaint as a professor concerned for his students.”

Harry knew from his father’s tight expression that the Potions Master was not going to yield to any of his wishes on this particular matter. And although he knew his father was doing that right thing, Harry could not help but be scared. He did not want his father to get into any more trouble. What would Severus say? How would Dumbledore react? Would there be other teachers complaining to help solidify his father’s complaints to the Headmaster?

“I thought of all that,” Harry admitted quietly. “But I just don’t want you to get into trouble…or to get hurt again.”

The feeling of being warm inside was becoming more frequent for Severus, and he relished the feeling. Since Lily’s death, he had been a very cold man. Some even called him the “Ice Man” in his early teaching career. But now that he had Harry, now that he had a son, Severus was coming to life again. And all it took was for the boy to show his concern for Severus, or smile up at him with those bright green eyes to warm the Potions Master’s fridge demeanor. 

 “I will not get hurt again,” Severus took his son’s shoulders in his hands and made sure the boy was looking at him. “I promise you that I will stay in control this time, and I will not let the Headmaster harm me in any manner.”

Harry offered a weak smile, but his father knew that the boy was not quite sure of the whole situation. “All right,” Harry said after a minute. “But…um…would you help me with some homework?” The question was out so fast Harry really did not have time to think about it. After the day, he just wanted to spend some time around his father and make sure that the older man was well.

“Yes,” Severus nodded his head, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “I would like to help you.”

*******

As Severus stalked to the Headmaster’s office, he was fuming, building back up his anger so that he could use it affectively against the old man. But when he came to the door, he saw Minerva, Filius, and Pomona all standing there as well. “What’s going on here?” Severus asked smoothly as he glided in next to his colleagues.

The other three Heads of Houses looked just about as furious as Severus felt. “Are you here to speak to Albus about Alastor?” Filius asked agitatedly, his normally squeaky voice seemed even higher-pitched with his frustration.

Looking between the small wizard and the two witches, Severus knew that Moody had made a mistake with not only his class, but with the others as well. Although he was still furious, a cruel sense of glee shot through him as he thought the Headmaster could not ignore his claims this time, not if everyone else was as angry with the new professor as he was. “Yes,” he nodded.

“That-that…man!” Pomona’s face turned a rather interesting shade of red. “I can’t believe he would have the nerve to show my students such absolutely horrible curses!”

“I told Albus that Alastor would not make a good teacher,” Minerva growled. “I told him! The Auror’s not good with children!”

The door to the office opened after a moment and together the four professors ascended the stairs and went into the Headmaster’s office. Severus stayed in the back, taking his time up the steps, all the while trying to keep his anger up so that his fear would not consume him.

“Albus!” Minerva snapped the moment she was in the room. “We need to talk.”

Before Albus could have said a word, Minerva, Filius, and Pomona were all yelling at him at once. The old wizard sat back in his chair and could do nothing for a moment but sit in shock, looking into the angry faces of his employees.

“One at a time! Please!” Albus held up his hands, trying to calm the miniature mob that seemed to have busted down his doors. “What is this all about?”

“What is this about?” Pomona snapped. “This is about that lunatic you hired as the Defense teacher!”

“Pardon?” Albus frowned.

“Alastor’s been showing my students the Unforgivables!” Filius shrieked.

“I believe he showed all of our classes, actually,” Minerva growled, her eyes flashing with her inner fury.

And just as before, the three professors began talking all at once again, threatening to overwhelm Albus, who had to shrink back slightly in his chair as they all seemed to lean in toward him to yell. Looking between them again, he noticed that in the back, standing in the shadows, was Severus. The Potions Master did not look pleased either. In fact, he looked outraged, and Albus was strangely reminded of Satan watching from the shadows as his minions worked to wear down a weary soul. Or perhaps not Satan, but an angel observing righteous condemnation? Either way, it unnerved Albus to the point where he wanted nothing better than to just sink through the floor or run away from them all.

“And what of you, Severus?” Albus asked, once the other professors quieted enough for him to think. “What have you to say about Alastor?”

The Potions Master scowled darkly. “You already know what I would say,” he spat.

“I would hear what you have to say all the same,” the Headmaster said softly, his blue eyes dull.

Severus stared at the man that used to be his mentor in stubborn silence. He had told Albus things he had never told anyone else. He had wept on the man’s shoulder more than once for Merlin’s sake! But now Severus could hardly stand the sight of the old man and it hurt. The only regret that the Slytherin had at the moment while burning the old man with his gaze was that he could not feel pity for the man that had once been like a father to him.

Knowing that his defiant Potions Master would not speak again, Albus turned to the other professors that were glaring at him for the moment. “If you would all please leave. I need to speak with Severus in private.”

“You cannot just kick us out,” Pomona huffed indignantly. “I still have things to say.”

“I will speak with each of you individually, but for the time being, please go so that Severus may say what he wishes without having to shock the room.”

Feeling the slight barb, the Head of Slytherin had to fight back a snort. Albus knew him well, but the old man did not know everything about him and for that, Severus was glad. And even though he knew he should probably tell the Headmaster about his discovery of being Harry’s father, he simply could not bring himself to do it. All his life Severus had lived with one betrayal after another, from everyone around him, even those that he had cared about. He was not sure he could handle one more.

Slowly, Filius and Pomona stomped towards the door, very angry. Minerva went, and stopped at the door, shutting it behind the other two professors while she herself stayed within the room. “Minerva, you should go as well,” Albus nodded towards the now closed door.

“No,” she said firmly, walking to the side of the Headmaster’s desk. “I am Deputy Headmistress here and, it is my right to know what is said between the Headmaster and a staff member.”

Although he could clearly see that Albus was upset with this decision, Severus wasn’t sure if he should be as well. He liked the fact that Minerva was standing with him as she did promise to help him, but he also was truly not sure what was going to come flying out of his mouth this time. For a man that prided himself on his control and aloof manner, Severus had been acting rather…Gryffindor like the past several days with his spontaneous fits of fury towards Albus and Black, and then going right around to comforting his brood or Harry. No one could ever say that Severus Snape was one to be on an emotional rollercoaster, but lately he was wondering about himself. All of these emotions that he had penned up for so long seemed to just be springing out of him lately, and he actually began to fear that with all of his stress he would go insane.

“Minerva,” Dumbledore said pleadingly, bringing Severus out of his thoughts.

“No. Not this time, Albus,” the witch shook her head, while crossing her arms. “I’m tired of you undermining my authority here. I will be staying. It is my right and my job to do so.”

It was in times like these that Severus really could not deny his admiration for Gryffindor courage. Minerva was openly defying the Headmaster to help a friend, and Severus appreciated it. It actually reminded him of all the times Lily stuck up for him in school, back when they had been the best of friends, fending off the Marauders… But that had been a long time ago.

“Stay then if you wish,” the Headmaster sighed heavily. “As long as Severus does not mind?”

Albus knew that his Potions Master was a very private man, and he was banking on the Slytherin to tell his co-worker to leave, as it was a confidential issue. But the Headmaster got no such luck when Severus shook his head. “I do not object.”

Sighing again, Dumbledore nodded. “All right then, Severus, what have you to say of Moody?”

“What I said in the beginning,” Snape hissed, allowing some of his anger to show through clearly. “Why the hell did you hire that man? He’s noticeably unstable! He’s done nothing but threaten and torment my students in all of his classes.”

“And how is that different than what you do to the other Houses in your class?” Albus snapped. He was tired and just wanted some peace for the evening.

The Potions Master’s eyes began to blaze with black fire at the Headmaster’s words. Any student that had ever had Professor Snape could have told you that the man was furious, and the only advice that they would give would be to run. But the Headmaster had faced down some of the most nefarious dark wizards in his past and his spy did not frighten him too much. He knew that no matter how angry Severus got that the Slytherin would not do something stupid. If there was only thing Dumbledore could usually depend on, it was Snape’s control.

“That,” Severus growled, “was different, and you know it!”

“How?” Dumbledore challenged.

“I was under your orders to act, in part, that way. I had to so that I could still play in your little game of manipulation and lies to make sure that I could assume my role as spy when I needed to.”

As she watched, Minerva was not sure exactly who to cheer for in this debate. Of course she knew that Severus had to make himself disagreeable to many to save his position as a spy, Albus had told her that many times, but at the same time, she had been one of the chief staff members to complain about the Slytherin’s behavior towards the other non-Slytherin Houses. Severus’s attitude and actions towards the other Houses were not to be excused easily, especially over the past few years, when he seemed to get worse the moment Harry Potter came into view. But at the same time, she now knew the extent of the man’s personal struggles and pain, and knew just what he had given up when he pledged himself to help Dumbledore.  Severus had given up so much to ensure freedom and safety for the Wizarding World, and it was this thought that helped Minerva calm down when she was the angriest with her younger colleague.

“That may well be,” Dumbledore sat back and glared at Severus, forgetting Minerva for the moment. “But Alastor has not done anything that you yourself have not done to students before.”

“Really?” Severus challenged, crossing his arms angrily. “He, in a sixth year class, used magic upon one of my students as punishment.”

Here, both Albus and Minerva’s eyes popped open as they stared at the Slytherin in disbelief. “That’s highly illegal and unethical!” the witch gulped.

“As I was saying,” Severus went on, satisfied that the others understood his plight now, “the man is insane. He not only hexed one of my students after the child merely muttered about the homework assignment- something we all know children are wont to do- but he threatened all of my other classes, calling out Death Eater children and telling them how their parents were traitors and would rot in Azkaban or worse.” Severus’s face was grim, his eyes still burning fiercely as he thought about his poor Slytherins. Everyone else already judged many of them, and he was furious that someone would try to harm them.

“Albus,” Minerva turned towards the older wizard. “I had no idea that this was occurring as well. Moody has also been demonstrating the Unforgivables to every class fourth year and above. Either you need to stop him, or you need to get rid of him.”

“I say get rid of him,” Severus growled.

All his many years seemed to come crashing down upon Albus at that moment as he nodded his head. His normally sparkling blue eyes were dulled with sadness. “I will speak to him in the morning. Before any classes.”

While Minerva nodded, Severus scowled. “And you will do what is necessary? Even if it means sacking him?” the Slytherin pressed.

Slowly, Dumbledore nodded. “I will do what needs to be done, but I will talk to him in the morning. As of now, I believe that I need to get some sleep.”

“Albus,” Severus stopped his employer quickly. “Just remember everything that he’s already done.”

The old wizard nodded once before he went to his rooms, not looking back at either of his professors. To tell the truth, Albus was almost afraid to look back. He had not counted on Minerva and Severus teaming up on him as they had done, but at the same time, he was glad that they were finally seeing eye to eye. It was just ironic that what they had in common was their anger at him.

“What do you think he will do?” Minerva asked as soon as she and Severus were out of the office and walking along the corridors.

Sneering, Severus looked straight ahead of him so that Minerva could not see just how disgusted or concerned he really was. “Not enough I’m sure.”

The next few days that followed “The Moody Incident,” all of the students made sure that they did not upset any of the teachers. There was tension throughout the school and it was obvious that sides were being taken. What had first started out as furious complains soon turned to bitter resentment amongst the staff. Instead of Moody being the prime target, as the students would have thought, long standing arguments and resentment came back into light so that there were two sides: those for Heads of House and those for Headmaster along with Moody.

Moody seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. The professors had all been called to a meeting with the Headmaster one evening and the students knew that it would not bode well. When it was announced to the teachers that Moody would not be let go due to his inappropriate actions in classes, the Heads of House instantly reacted negatively; for them, Albus had finally pushed too hard.

Rumor had it among the students that for the first time since anyone could remember, all four Heads of House raged against the Headmaster furiously, demanding that Moody be sacked. That’s when divisions were officially drawn. When the Headmaster had refused, several other teachers rose up with the House leaders, arguing along with them that the Defense professor had to be let go. But there were those professors that sided with Dumbledore, not because they agreed with what Moody had done, but simply because they believed that no one should go up against the Headmaster like the Heads of House were doing. And then there were those that wanted nothing to do with the feud and simply stayed out of the confrontation.

So, the first few days that followed were rough for the students at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall was terrible. In her classes she demanded perfection from all of her students on the most difficult assignments. Though she was often a demanding teacher normally, her anger made her more focused and more impatient, resulting in her expecting more from her students.

Professor Flitwick was almost as bad as McGonagall with one difference: where McGonagall was more focused, Flitwick got angry enough that he became flustered, resulting in parts of his lectures not making much sense, which in turn, made him angrier, more so at himself than his students. And when Flitwick got angry, his voice tended to scale up an octave or so, making it hard to understand just what exactly he was squeaking out.

Professor Sprout was not too hard on her students because of her anger, but her classes were not easy to get through. She would often go off on tangents about what was wrong with the school, and while the students were working, would often mutter things to herself about the Headmaster or about Moody. In a way, she was the opposite of McGonagall and Flitwick, and her mind almost never seemed on topic.

It was Professor’s Snape’s reaction that everyone dreaded the most. The students had noticed that Snape’s actions seemed to have gotten better the first few weeks of classes, so much so that the older students began saying that Snape had reverted back to the old “P.P Era” style of teaching. (“P.P. Era” of course meaning Pre-Potter Era) But after what had happened with Moody, the students all began to become uneasy with the nasty professor.

Unlike the others, Snape did not snap or lose focus or even complain under his breath. In fact, the Slytherin professor didn’t do much of anything except scowl more and look as though he could murder anyone at any time. It was this lack of physical or verbal response that frightened the students most. In the minds of the students, Snape was a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode in their faces should something happen again. Already this year Snape seemed to be having trouble with his House, he had Harry Potter to worry about, and now he was furious over Moody.

From the very beginning all of the students could tell that the Potions Master did not like the Defense teacher, as Snape didn’t bother to hide it. Word quickly spread throughout the student body to watch out for the Slytherin. “A screaming Snape is better than a quiet one!” was the motto throughout the four Houses.

But as these things went on, Harry could not help but worry about everything that was happening. He was in the middle of all of this whether he liked it or not. What happened with the teachers, the students, the Headmaster, and no matter what, all seemed to directly involve or affect him. He could no longer hide in Gryffindor Tower, safe and away with his friends. He was now in the middle of an island of Slytherin who had no compassion for him whatsoever. The only blessing that came out of the incident with Moody was that it distracted everyone’s attention away from him.

The whole school seemed to be in an odd, suspended state as the teachers had their own cold war with the Headmaster. The Houses simply did as they were told for the most part as no one knew what would happen should rules be broken. Slytherins and Gryffindors alike seemed to have called an unofficial cease-fire while the conflict with the professors raged on, and for the first time in years, there was no direct friction between Houses.

 ~*~

On a Monday morning, Harry got up to find Malfoy already awake, reading a letter. Harry had stirred from sleep, thinking he had heard a noise, and realized that he had heard the owl come down. For just a moment, he wondered how the owl had found his roommate, but he pushed the thought aside and got up out of bed. Draco glanced at him before turning away so that the other boy could not see what his letter contained.

Harry stopped himself from snorting. He really did not care what was in the letter. It was probably just Lucius Malfoy telling his son to remember that he was better than everyone else or some other pure-blood nonsense. Honestly, Harry was just glad that the letter at least distracted the other boy away from insulting him that morning.

Despite their unofficial truce and the Moody Incident, Harry and Draco still did not like each other and were not above throwing an insult here and there. Although they were both careful not to get too aggressive, as that would alert Snape. At the moment, neither of them really wanted the Potions Master’s attention on them while he was still angry with the Defense professor.

As Harry readied to take a shower, he locked himself into the bathroom as usual, and let his mind wonder. He actually had not talked to his father for a while, not as father and son anyway, since they had talked about what Moody had done. Snape had been furious and did not seem much like listening lately, and honestly, Harry had not felt much like talking. They both had their own separate problems at the moment, and they both were trying to sort things out.

Stepping into the hot shower, Harry could not help but sigh, feeling refreshed and calmed as the warm water hit him. He was so stressed lately, and he cherished his alone time in the morning. Usually Draco was still sleeping at this time, and Harry would spend his morning in complete silence. Last year it would have bothered him a great deal to be alone and quiet, but now it was one of the things that Harry looked forward to the most. Oh no! You’re becoming Snape! He thought in amusement, and couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought. But it still felt a bit strange to think of himself as a Snape. He didn’t feel much different, but he began noticing some similarities between himself and his father that weirded him out. Like the way they both tended to hold their silverware. Harry had never noticed it before until the other day when he had glanced up to see his father eating. Why he had perceived this, he didn’t know, but it was still funny in a way.

But what did confuse Harry was why he and Snape had trusted each other as much as they had. It seemed strange that they had gotten so close so quickly. When Harry had found out that Snape was his father, the first thing he really did feel— if he would admit it—was happiness, then came the disgust, the confusion, and the anger. When he had thought that Snape was leaving he had felt panicked, hurt, though he did not know why. The thought of having a father, having a figure to fill out the meaning, the role of a parent had always been something Harry had always wanted, something he had craved ever since he could remember, and suddenly having someone step into his life and taking on that meaning, that role had mean something to him. Even though that person had been Snape, Harry had to admit— again—that he liked the idea of having a father.

Granted, Snape was not exactly what Harry had thought a father would be like. There were still things about the Potions Master that Harry did not like. For instance, the man never really seemed to smile all that much, and he was way too picky when it came to making potions or cleaning the house. Snape’s sense of humor still left much to be desired, and he could be a very cold, detached person. But despite all of this, Harry was actually amazed that the cruelest professor at Hogwarts had so easily and completely took the boy he had hated for three years under his wing. It was as though Snape had completely set aside all differences…almost. There were occasions when he growled or snapped, but in general, Harry’s stay with the “dreaded” Professor Snape had been completely livable, even enjoyable.

While he rinsed out his hair, Harry thought more on his father. What had made Snape change? There had to be more to the story, something that Harry didn’t know. Had it simply been due to the situation that they had both found themselves in? After all, Harry had potentially saves Severus’s life, and on the other side of that, they were both thrown for a loop with what Aunt Petunia had told them. Sure, they both had their disagreements over the summer, both had been leery of the other for a while, both seemed to have been on “best behavior” with regards to one another, and all Harry could feel at the moment was grateful. Merlin knew that the start of their relationship could have gone worse… A lot worse.

After he was scrubbed and rinsed, and could not think of a reasonable excuse to stay in the shower any longer, Harry got out and began drying his hair. As he changed into his school uniform, he could not help but still feeling out of place as he tied his Slytherin-green tie. He still felt a bit like an imposter wearing these clothes. But then again, he did feel like an imposter whenever he looked into the mirror. It was a strange feeling to know that you were not really looking at you every time your eye chanced a glance into a mirror or other reflective object. But like the issue of being a Snape, Harry decided to shove all unpleasant thoughts out of his head for the time being and focus on staying alive in school this year.

Walking out of the bathroom, Harry received a nasty scowl from his roommate. “Finally decided to come out, did we?” Draco sneered. “Hope you left enough water for everyone else, Potter,” he growled before pushing Harry out of the way, and locking himself into the bathroom.

Several nasty replies formed in his mind, but Harry decided to let it go. Even though he still despised Malfoy with just about every fiber of his being, even Harry had to admit that the blonde hadn’t really been that terrible of roommate… at least not yet. But then again, with Snape watching their every move every moment of the day, and Moody also keeping sharp eyes out for both of them really hadn’t given the two rivals a chance to be too nasty to each other. A few snide remarks every now and again kept the two remembering that they hated each other, which is what they both want. It kept some things a little normal.

Once dressed and ready to go, Harry grabbed his bag full of his books that always seemed to weight ten tons each, and walked out of his room and into the common room. As usual, Snape was standing there waiting for him. The professor, true to character, sneered down at the boy before he spun on his heels and began his neck breaking stride out the portal door.

Although Harry knew that some of the cold behavior was an act— he hoped!— he also knew that the man’s foul temper mostly had to do with the Headmaster and Moody more than anything else. For the last few day, Harry had been more than a little worried about his father and if he would admit it, scared that the Snape he had known over the summer was gone now, and the old Snape, the one that insulted, the one that sneered, the one that hated him was back for good. Damn Moody! Damn Dumbledore! Harry though miserably. He hadn’t really had a “kind” word from his father in a while, and Snape did not seem all that willing to go out of his way to say anything particularly nice anymore…if he ever really had.

“Today, after classes, go back to your room,” Snape’s soft command almost made Harry jump out of his trainers.

“Huh? Why?” Harry looked up at his father with concerned emerald eyes.

“Because I said so,” the Potions Master snapped, scowling down at his son.

Harry had to fight to keep himself from looking too hurt. Why the professor’s words hurt so much, Harry did not really know. Although the Potions Master had been kind over the summer, the young Slytherin knew he should not really rely on the man being so all the time. This was Snape after all.

“Yes, sir,” the boy nodded, looking down at the floor.

Severus was not in a good mood today. He had not gotten much sleep— but then, did he ever?— and he had received a note from the Headmaster. This whole mess with Moody was starting to wear him down. Despite what people thought, Severus really did not like fighting. In fact, he liked to avoid conflict as much as possible. Was it his fault that conflict seemed to follow him everywhere he went? And Harry take after you in that, Severus’s conscience whispered to him.

The thought of his son as he was last year and when he had first come to Hogwarts gave Severus a bad taste in his mouth as he was suddenly struck with a realization. All those times Harry got into trouble, all those times he had broken the rules, put his life in danger…how was that any different than what Severus did himself? Sure, before he had known Harry was his child, he had always blamed it on the boy’s “Potter-ness,” but with that default gone, and knowing Lily certainly never acting in such a way left Severus feeling a bit uneasy as he recognized that Harry had inherited his reckless side. The only difference between the two was that Severus had always had the Slytherin cunning to not get caught while Harry had his mother’s Gryffindor emotions that seemed to make him want to get caught.  Well, the boy’s not going to let on to anyone about our little secret, he thought ruefully.

But Severus did not want to think about that at the moment. Such revelations were best to consider later on when he could actually afford to let his mind wonder. Perhaps he could think on it tonight? If the Headmaster did not wipe his memory again or some other such outrage.

It did, however, surprise the Potions Master how easily Harry acquiesced to his order. He glanced down at the younger wizard and found the boy looking quite deject. Severus frowned, wondering why the child was in such a state, when comprehension dawned on him. “I did not mean to bark at you,” the professor said softly. Why was it that Harry could make him apologize so easily? Severus hated apologizing, and rarely did it, but then when he and Harry found the other, Severus was apologizing right and left!

Harry was a bit surprised at the sudden apology, but he was glad of it. “It’s okay,” he reassured. “I…I know you’ve got a lot to think about.”

How was it that the boy was so understanding? Severus had been worse than a bear the past several days— and if he would admit it, the past several years as well— and the boy did not seem to mind his short temper. How easily the boy forgave! That, Harry certainly did not get from Severus. He got that from his mother…

“I have a meeting with the Headmaster after classes,” Severus felt inclined to say. “I do not want you wandering the castle when I’m not around to watch you.”

Although Harry knew that his father was just being protective, and he should be grateful, he really wasn’t. The thought of someone always watching out for him all the time made Harry feel like he was a little kid. He could take care of himself. He had been doing it long before Snape had ever showed up! “Can’t I go to the library with Hermione and Neville?” he asked, hoping his father would be gracious.

“No,” Snape said bluntly.

“Why not?” Harry asked, suddenly feeling as though he was being wronged. “We’re just going to study!”

“Because,” Snape came to a sudden halt and swirled around to face his offspring, “you and those friends of yours get into the most trouble when I’m busy. I don’t want to come out of that meeting to find you or one of your friends lost, stolen, or injured, like I normally do.”

“But we haven’t gotten into any trouble so far,” Harry argued. “And beside, there’s nothing interesting going on, so—”

“What did I say?” Snape spat. “I said no and I mean no. I don’t want you gallivanting about when Moody’s around and I’m not!” he hissed.

For a moment, Severus was pleased with himself, believing that he had finally gotten through to his thickheaded child about the dangers within Hogwarts. He did not necessarily like being cruel, but he would do it if he could make the boy understand the real dangers and show Harry that he wasn’t invincible. He knew he was being a bit harsh, but then Severus had been brought up on the philosophy “you need to be cruel to be kind.” But when large emerald eyes looked into his face, all satisfaction was washed away. Those blasted green eyes!

“Harry,” Severus sighed. “Just do as I say. I know things don’t seem so bad to you at the moment, but I need you to trust me.”

Harry was taken back for a moment by his father’s words. Snape was admitting that things were bad? No adult had ever really told Harry the truth about anything before, especially about the real danger going on within the school. The fact that Snape was telling Harry made the boy that much more willing to obey his father. This was all Harry had ever really wanted anyway, to be told why he shouldn’t do things, not just “don’t do it.”

“What’s going on?” the younger wizard asked. “Is something going to happen?”

Snape straightened up again and began walking. Harry quickly followed. “I am not sure,” the Potions Master admitted. “But I know that things could potentially get…bad. With the Tournament and the other schools coming soon, things will become more hectic, more disorganized. And that is exactly the sort of thing the Death Eaters will be looking for.”

The thought of Lucius Malfoy and the other Death Eaters getting into the castle or pulling some sort of stunt really frightened Harry. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “I guess I can tell Hermione that I won’t be in the library tonight.”

“Good,” Snape nodded once. “I will escort you back to your room after classes. I will retrieve you for dinner.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said simply.

Father and son made it to the Great Hall and walked in together, much like every morning that year. As Snape stalked off to the Head Table, Harry walked over to the end of the Slytherin table and sat down alone. Nott was there by himself too, but true to their new tradition, neither boy said anything to the other one. Although the silence was nice, Harry still missed eating at the Gryffindor table with all of his friends. He missed Ron and Hermione bickering, or Ginny and Neville laughing…

Shaking his head, Harry went to filling his plate. He almost dropped the salt when Nott actually spoke to him. “Do you…” the other Slytherin trailed off.

“What?” Harry asked, still surprised that the other boy spoke at all.

Nott looked a bit nervous; as though it was the first time he had ever said anything to anyone. “I was just…did we have homework in Herbology?” he blurted out.

Taken aback, Harry nodded slowly. “Um, yeah. Seven inch essay. Didn’t you do it?”

“Huh?” Nott looked alarmed for a moment. “Oh, yeah…I did it…I just…wanted to make sure. That’s all.”

Frowning, Harry nodded. “Okay.”

There fell an awkward silence between the two, in which Harry desperately tried to cover by eating his meal in peace. But after a few moments, it seemed Nott could not take the silence any longer. “We didn’t have to work with our partners, did we?”

“No,” Harry shook his head, putting down his fork. “No, it was supposed to be individually…like always.”

“Right,” Nott nodded quickly, still looking very anxious… or guilty…Harry couldn’t make up his mind. “So…who’s your partner?”

The whole conversation made Harry extremely uncomfortable with its awkwardness. He wasn’t exactly sure what Nott was getting at. “Um...it’s Brittney…you know Brittney from Ravenclaw?”

“Oh yeah…right,” Nott smiled uneasily. “I think I remember her…She’s the blonde one?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, turning away to eat his breakfast.

There was another silence that fell over the two. Harry was just beginning to think that he had escaped the odd conversation when Nott seemed unable to keep silent. “Is she a good partner?”

“Um…yeah, she’s nice. Why? Who’s your partner? Aren’t they doing their job?” Harry asked.

Turning the questions around really seemed to fluster the other Slytherin. Nott’s eyes widened for a moment before he seemed to remember that he was rambling away, and to Harry Potter no less. So with a scowl, Nott looked away from Harry. “My partner’s fine,” he said softly.

Thus ended the longest conversation Harry had ever had with Theodore Nott. And truth be told, Harry was actually glad to be out of the conversation. It had been rather awkward and uncomfortable, something that he really did not want to feel that particular morning. Besides, he had his father to think about and the meeting Severus would have with Dumbledore that evening. Would it be good or bad? Did Dumbledore find out anything or not?

But before Harry could get too carried away with his thoughts, Draco came in. When the other boy sat down, Harry was forced to endure the blonde’s hateful glares every so often while trying to eat in piece.

~*~

After classes were complete for the day, Severus met Harry at his last class. The Head of Slytherin escorted his newest snake down into the dungeons and into the Common Room. Harry safely made it to his dorm room while Snape kept the other snakes at bay, and once Severus knew that his son was safely down the stairs and in his room, he turned abruptly and left.

With long, hasty strides, the Potions Master made his way to the Headmaster’s office. He did not know what it was that Albus wanted, but he was certain that he wasn’t going to like it one bit. Whatever it was, Severus was going to make sure that his wand was at hand. Just in case.

The walk to Dumbledore’s office seemed unusually long to Severus for some reason. His mind kept wondering to the question of why the Headmaster wanted to see him. Had the old man found something out? Did Albus know that Harry was Severus’s son? Or was it something about the Death Eaters? Did Lucius find a way to get the Death Eaters in Hogwarts? Was he going to have to run for it? What would happen to Harry then?

Roughly, Severus pushed those unpleasant thoughts behind him. There was no use dwelling on such worthless speculation and guesses. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen, and he couldn’t change that. All he could do was keep his wits about him and make sure that the old wizard didn’t try to pull a fast one on him again. Severus had no desire to lose his memory a second time.

When he finally arrived at the entrance, Severus mumbled the password, and carefully made his way up the stairs. When he got to the Headmaster’s door, he knocked purposefully. “Come in!” he heard Albus call.

Pushing open the door, Severus stepped in to see the Headmaster behind his desk, looking like he was actually doing some paper work. “Hello Severus, my boy,” the old man smiled weakly.

Severus graced Dumbledore with a sneer before he went to stand before the old wizard with his arms crossed and his wand ready. “What do you want, Albus? I’m very busy,” he snapped.

Dumbledore looked up at the younger wizard with a frown. “Forget not that I am your employer, Severus. You should speak to me with some respect.”

“Forget not that you also ruined my life,” Snape growled. “What do you want?”

With a heavy sigh, Albus motioned for Severus to take a seat. The Potions Master refused. “Severus…this feud that you and I have created has gone far enough, don’t you think? The students all know that many of the professors are angry with me, and their feeling towards Alastor is not good either…What I’m saying is that I believe you and I should talk to everyone and see if we can’t put this all aside.”

Severus gave a bark of laughter, startling the Headmaster greatly. “You want me to resolve all of this?” he sneered. “Isn’t this supposed to me a task for your Deputy Headmistress?”

“Severus, you know perfectly well that Minerva is stubborn when she’s angry.”

“And I’m not?” Snape scoffed.

“Severus, please,” the Headmaster pleaded. “If I reconcile with you, the others will follow. You know that. It’s your response everyone’s waiting for, not Minerva’s.”

“Flattering,” the younger wizard jeered. “But you forget, Headmaster, that I have no intention of forgiving you. The only reason I am still here is the fact that I have nowhere else to go, and I have no desire to get caught by Death Eaters.”

“Then you should do as I say,” Dumbledore scowled. “I’m the one keeping you safe. It’s because of me that you’re protected.”

“Ah! But do you not also need me?” Severus mocked. “Even though my uses as an active spy are over, I still know enough about you, the Order, and the Ministry to make it dangerous and stupid for you to let me go too far from your sight. Never know who I might talk to or what I may let slip.”

The two stood facing off for some time before finally, Dumbledore sighed. “Severus, the truth of the matter is that we both need each other. I wanted to reconcile because…well, because I actually have a job I need you to do.”

With a bitter smile, Severus held the old wizard’s eyes steadily. “You’ve figured out a way for me to still be a pawn in your games, eh Albus? Well, you don’t pay me enough for my real job, and I have no desire to play expendable puppet, so whatever it is you’re asking, my answer is no. Find someone else.”

“But you haven’t even heard what it is I have to say!” the Headmaster cried.

“I don’t care,” Severus said shortly, getting ready to leave.

“Would it interest you to know that the job I have for you involves leaving the castle?” Albus asked.

That did stop Snape. He was not certain what the Headmaster had in mind, but he was certain it was crazy. The old man wanted to send him out while there were still Death Eaters about and searching for him? Was Albus just trying to get him killed? Probably, Severus thought darkly.

Knowing he had the Potions teacher, Dumbledore went on. “Severus, I still need you. You’re the only one I trust with this.”

“Trust?” Severus growled. “What do you know about trust?”

“Severus—”

“No, Albus. I don’t want to leave the castle. Do you want me to get killed?”

“It’s about Voldemort.”

At the Dark Lord’s name, Severus flinched terribly. The thought of his old master sickened Snape to his core. He could not think about the Dark Lord without thinking about just how close the maniac had come to killing Harry, and that thought hurt. His whole left arm hurt actually, and many of his scars, in remembrance…

“Do not say that name out loud!” Snape hissed.

Knowing that the other man was listening carefully, Albus decided to act. “Severus, the other schools will be here soon. The Tournament will be taking up much of my time, and I fear things are accelerating faster than I had expected. I cannot have the school divided while we have guests, and I would have you help me make amends with everyone.

“And I have a job I need you to do. Because everything has accelerated, I have need of a very special memory, one that I have been unable to acquire for many years…but I need it now. For the good of everyone, I need that memory now, and it requires your specific skills. Will you help me?”

Although every fiber of Severus’s being told him to refuse the old wizard, more out of spite than anything else, the Potions Master began to understand just what the Headmaster was saying. “A memory?” he asked.

“Yes,” Dumbledore smiled gently, realizing that he had appealed to Snape at last. “One that belongs to an old friend. Will you help?”

Severus looked at the Headmaster, and then at the cabinet that held all of the Dark Lord’s memories. He had not wanted to do anything else for Dumbledore, but Albus was right, things were definitely accelerating faster than he had thought. And because of it, Severus knew that Harry would need to be protected as much as possible too. The only way to help Harry and make sure that he stayed safe was, unfortunately, by helping Albus.

Turning back to the Headmaster, Severus stared at the old man for a long moment. “What do you need me to do?” he asked.

Dumbledore smiled.

While the other Slytherins were away at dinner that night, Draco sat alone in the Common Room. Although he knew he was alone, Draco kept looking around, worried that some useless little first year would come barging out of their rooms, having fallen asleep or something or would burst through the portal having forgotten a book. But as it was, the blond found himself alone, and he was grateful for it.

Scanning the room one last time, Draco knelt down by the fireplace and held his breath, looking at the clock. It was almost ten after seven. All he had to do now was wait.Suddenly, the fire leapt to life in green flames.

Startled, the young Slytherin reeled back not wanting to get burned. But all too soon he realized what was going on and schooled his expression as he beheld the face of his father in the flames.

“Draco,” came the drawl of Lucius Malfoy.

“Hello, Father,” the boy responded.

Lucius raised an eyebrow at his son, before he looked around the room with a disgusted sneer. “Things seem to have gone downhill since my time at Hogwarts,” he scoffed. “But that matters little at the moment. Did you get my message this morning? How are things?”

For just a moment, Draco wished that his father was simply asking him how he was doing in school, or if he was having any trouble with anyone. But he knew better than that. “Yes, I got it,” he said simply. “And things are going…”

“What’s wrong?” Lucius demanded.

“It’s just that…well, Potter’s my roommate,” the young wizard decided to confide in his father, “and Moody’s here and—”“

Moody?” the older Malfoy said sharply. “He is still there?”

“Yes,” Draco nodded. “But—”

The older wizard glared his son into silence before he turned away slightly, looking thoughtful. He seemed to be thinking back a long time ago. “I had thought that he would get himself sacked by now,” Lucius said slowly. “But then Dumbledore is in charge of the school,” he growled. “What else?”

“Well, things are still terrible and Potter’s a terrible roommate—”

“Potter is rooming with you?” Lucius frowned, as though he had not even heard anything his son had been telling him only moments ago. “Ah, yes. I believe your mother said something about that. You wrote to us a while back, didn’t you?”

Disappointment coursed through the young Slytherin, disappointment and bitterness. Had his letters really meant so little to his father? Was his mother the only one that loved him anymore? His father used to write to him too, used to talk to him, would give him advice, would show some sort of concern for him. Now, it seemed Lucius didn’t care two knuts for his son. Draco wished that things were simple again, like when he was younger, and his father could actually love him…

“Yes,” the boy said out loud to his father. “I did.”

“I had thought so,” Lucius nodded. “But tell me, Draco, what about Snape?”

Knowing all too well what his father was really thinking, Draco decided to play dumb. “What about him?” After all, he was a Slytherin, and he could play the manipulation game. He wanted specifics. He wanted to know just what was going on, or at least get some idea about what his father was thinking and planning.

“What is he doing?” the older Malfoy snapped, becoming impatient with his son. “He cannot approve of Moody being in the castle. How has he taken to the news of the ex-auror teaching there?”

“He and some of the other professors are furious with Dumbledore,” Draco admitted. “McGonagall and Snape seemed to be championing against the Headmaster.”

Lucius gave a bark of a laugh, startling his son. “That was a foolish move on Snape’s part,” the Death Eater sneered. “You tell me the moment that old fool Dumbledore sacks Snape. I want to be right there when that traitor leaves the castle.”

The nasty smile on Lucius’s face made Draco want to squirm. Draco did not like it when his father looked like that. He did not like his father parading around the image of the glorious Death Eater, the cruel, wicked murderer. He missed the way his father used to be, how Lucius would actually act like a father instead of a drill instructor. He missed talking to his father about the little things. Now all Draco did was play spy for Lucius.

It had only been the last several years or so when Lucius had started back in on campaigning for the Dark Lord again. The older Malfoy used to be caring and thoughtful…at least where his family was concerned. Draco could still remember his father teaching him all about the Malfoy history and telling him that he should be proud of his lineage, that he was superior because he was pure and to never let anyone of lower status reign over him. Well, as far as Draco could make out, Lucius was lowering himself and disgracing the family by being the Dark Lord’s servant. After all, wasn’t the Dark Lord just some demented half-blood?

But those happy memories seemed to be gone now. Lucius no longer seemed to care about teaching his son about the family history, or about the finances of the Manor. The only thing the older Malfoy seemed concerned about at the moment was bringing back the Dark Lord and serving him. It just did not seem right for a Malfoy to serve anyone…

“Yes, Father,” Draco said quietly, not letting on his inner thoughts.

“Is there anything else I should know, Draco?” Lucius probed. “Has anything else happened?”

“Well…the Triwizard Tournament is coming up soon,” the boy shrugged.

Lucius scowled. “Do not shrug, Draco,” he scolded. “But the Tournament? I had forgotten about that. When are the other schools arriving?”

“Soon,” the boy answered quickly. “I’m not exactly sure when, but I think it’s next week. I’ll let you know as soon as I find out,” Draco amended the moment he saw his father’s glower.

“Very good,” the older Malfoy nodded. “Now, get to dinner before you’re missed. And remember, you will inform me if anything significant happens.”

“Yes, sir,” Draco nodded.

“Good.”

Without another word, Lucius Malfoy was gone, leaving his son feeling rather hurt. Draco got up and angrily put out the flames. He knew that his housemates would complain after dinner about it being cold in the Common Room and would more than likely seek out whoever had distinguished the fire, but he did not care at the moment. It gave Draco satisfaction to see the flames that had once contained his father’s head die. But with nothing else to do, the blond walked out of the room and towards the Great Hall for dinner.

~*~

After dinner, his father escorted Harry back to his room just as the Potions Master had planned. The boy noticed that his father seemed rather distracted, troubled even, but as to what, Harry was certain that man would not say. The former Gryffindor had been around Snape long enough to know that the other wizard was trying to hide his feelings, but Harry had picked up the Potions Master’s moods and tells. For instance, his father’s lips were slightly pouted and there was just the barest hint of a frown, indicating his worry. Harry doubted anyone else could have told that the Head of Slytherin was distressed, but he could, and he wished that he knew what it was that was troubling his father so much.

The two Slytherins were starting their descent into the dungeons when someone behind them called out. “Harry!”

Harry turned around to see Hermione and a terrified Neville walk over to him. “Hi!” he called with a smile. Although he didn’t have many friends anymore, Harry was still glad that these two had stuck by him.

“What do you want?” Snape snapped, glaring down at the two Gryffindors before him.

Neville shrank back, obviously still frightened by the Potions Master. Hermione, on the other hand, looked determined not to let the Professor intimidate her…at least not too much. “We just wanted to talk to Harry,” the little witch smiled uneasily. “We wanted to ask him to go to the library with us tonight.”

Before Harry could answer, Snape stepped in. “Mr. Potter cannot this evening. Now leave.”

The rude rebuttal left Harry annoyed with his father, and he looked apologetically over at his friends. “Maybe tomorrow night?” he shrugged.

It was clear that Hermione was none too happy with Snape for making Harry’s decision for him, but she also seemed to accept his decision as he was her elder and professor. “Sure. Have a good night, Harry,” she smiled. Harry was taken by surprise when she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

Neville just patted Harry on the shoulder, still eyeing Snape warily. “See you tomorrow, Harry,” the other boy smiled kindly before he and Hermione walked away, turning back to wave at their friend.

Harry waved back, smiling, but once his friends were gone, he frowned. He really missed being with them all, hanging out in Gryffindor Tower, playing Exploding Snap instead of doing homework. Ron was always good at procrastinating, and he missed his best friend a lot. Idly, Harry wondered if Ron would ever forgive him for being in Slytherin.

“Come.” Snape’s quiet command startled Harry enough that he jumped.

Nodding, the boy turned back around and began walking towards the Slytherin dungeons. It was just so different being a Slytherin now. Even people’s attitudes were way different. Where Gryffindors were loud and excitable, Slytherins were more cautious, more wary of everyone and their surroundings. On a whole, it seemed that Slytherins were colder than their Gryffindor rivals, though that was not saying that they could not be friendly or warm around those that they liked. It was just that Harry’s new house seemed prone to suspicion and indifference.

Taking a sneaky glance over at his father, Harry decided that Snape was the epitome of what a real Slytherin was like. Sure, many thought that Voldemort was, but not all Slytherins were evil, they just couldn’t be. Harry certainly wasn’t! In the beginning, Salazar Slytherin had been good, right? He had liked ambition and cunning above all other traits, but was that such a bad thing? That didn’t make a person evil, it was how a person decided to use that ambition and cunning that made them good or bad, and Snape was using his for good.

But even though Snape had some traits that Harry was coming to admire, the man was still rather cold. It just seemed to be a dominant trait among all Slytherins and Harry knew he was going to have to get used to that eventually. Anyway, most of the Ravenclaws were cold, too and he still liked them all right. But then Slytherins couldn’t be unfeeling all the time. After all, Harry’s mum had fallen in love with the seemingly apathetic Potions Master.      

“What did Dumbledore want?” Harry asked after he couldn’t take the silence between them anymore.

The slight frown on the older wizard’s lips seemed to deepen a fraction as he continued to stare in from of him, walking on as though he hadn’t heard his son. “Nothing that needs to be discussed right now,” Snape said after a moment.

“Was it bad?” Harry could not help but be worried. He didn’t like being left in the dark about things, but then, he was learning that he could trust his father…

Snape looked down at the boy with indecipherable eyes. Harry wondered what his father was thinking or how he was going to respond, if he was going to respond at all. “He and I are simply trying to make amends,” the Head of Slytherin chose his words carefully. “He wanted to ensure that everything would be well by the time the other schools arrive.”

“When will the other schools be here?” Harry asked curiously, though he still felt as though his father was hiding something from him.

“This next Sunday,” the Potions Master answered automatically. “But do not worry about them until they arrive.”

“I’m not worried about them,” the boy frowned. “I just wanted to know when they’d get here. It seems like everyone’s been talking about them almost as much as they’ve been talking about me.”

Harry saw his father wince ever so slightly. “Then when they are here it will be a good distraction away from you, I think.”

“That’s what I was thinking, too,” the younger wizard admitted. “I hope people will stop gawking at me once the others get here.”

Snape did not reply but simply kept on down to the Slytherin dorms. Harry was concerned about his father. He hadn’t seen Snape this closed off in a while, and he wondered if the Headmaster had said or done anything to cause the state the Potions Master was in. Had Dumbledore demanded that Severus help him settle things between the professors even though the Potions Master did not want to? Or was it something else completely? Did it have to do with the other Slytherins? After all, the majority of the House still did not like Snape all that well after the summer events. It was possible that something happened and Snape and some of the other rather boisterous Slytherins had gotten into a fight.

“You never said why I couldn’t go with my friends tonight,” Harry spoke up after a moment. “Is something wrong?”

That stopped the other wizard, and he stared down at the boy. “There is something that I need to do,” he said simply. “It would be better for you to be in your room.”

“What?” Harry’s eyes widened as all sorts of horrible ideas came into his head.

“It will not affect you, Harry,” Snape said gently, taking on a more fatherly tone, the one that Harry hadn’t heard for several days. “You don’t have to worry about this. This is a matter for adults to handle, not children like you.”

“But I could help—”

“Not this time,” Snape said sternly. “Just go to your room, do your homework, and then go to bed. Don’t worry about anything else for tonight. I will be here in the morning to come and get you.”

The Potions Master’s plan was simple. It all sounded so normal. All of his life Harry had wanted to be normal, wanted to be just like everyone else, even while at Hogwarts, but no matter what, it seemed that he was destined to stick out in some way or another. And even though Harry did not want to be the center of attention, he still did not like his father’s plan. For the first time that Harry could ever really remember, he did not want to be normal at the moment. Normal meant that Harry had to be out of the loop, that he wasn’t in the need to know. He wanted in this time, wanted to help out.

“Are you sure that—”

“There is nothing you can do right now, son,” Severus voice was gentle. “All I need for you to do tonight that would help is to be in your room and doing your work for tomorrow. That’s it.”

“But what is the Headmaster making you do?” Harry asked in frustration.

“He is simply having me review a few things before the other schools arrive,” Snape said shortly. “It’s just business. Nothing too terribly exciting. You don’t have to worry about it.”

There was just something off about what the Professor said, and Harry was sure that his father wasn’t telling him the full truth. There was something terribly convincing in the man’s voice, but then, Harry had always known that Snape was a good actor, and even better liar. There was something going on, but Harry just could not figure it out.

At last, the two Snapes made it to the Slytherin dorms and like every other night, Snape walked Harry as far as the stairs. Harry walked down alone and into his dorm. He knew that his father was waiting for the sound of the door to click before he’d leave, so in his frustration, Harry made sure that he gave an extra loud click which some might have called a slam.

Turning around, Harry had every intention of just flopping down on his bed when he noticed Draco sitting at his desk, a quill in hand and a scowl set in place. “What are you doing here?” Harry asked, surprised that the blond was in his room rather than chatting with the other Slytherins.

Scowling even darker, Draco did not bother to hide his disgust or resentment. “This is my room, too,” he spat. “Didn’t think I needed an invitation.”

Harry ground his teeth together, wondering if he could just hex Malfoy once. It would relieve some of the pressure he was sure, and then, with Malfoy immobile and quiet, Harry was certain he could do his homework in peace like his father had wanted. “You don’t,” he muttered instead. “Just thought you had more of a social life.”

That seemed to offend the blond, and Draco’s face began turning the slightest pink color. “What, and you do?” he sneered. “I’ve noticed, Potter, that you don’t exactly have friends anymore. In fact, the only people that seem to talk to you at all is that imbecile Longbottom and that little Mud-blood Granger.”

“Don’t you call them that!” Harry snapped.

Realizing that he had started to chip away at the other boy’s control, Draco smirked nastily. “Why? That’s what they are, you know. I’ve never seen anyone as stupid as Longbottom, except maybe Weasley, but Granger is a nasty little prude.”

“One more word, Malfoy, and I swear,” Harry threatened, his hands balled into fists at his side.

“You’ll what?” the other boy sneered. “You’ll punch me in the face? You’ll run and go tell Snape? You really think you’ll do anything, Potter? Will you go get your friends to beat me up? No, you know what, Potter? I think that our little agreement we made is invalid now. I don’t have to worry about the Gryffindors as much as I thought I would. But you,” Draco smiled wickedly. “You’ll have to worry about the Slytherins because I’m not keeping them off anymore.”

Harry could not help but be stunned, stunned and horrified. Malfoy had actually figured out that the majority of the Gryffindors didn’t care for him anymore. Without that leverage over Malfoy, then Harry was practically fair game to his new Housemates. They’d be on him faster than flies to a carcass. Snape’s influence alone didn’t have as much power anymore like it used to. While his father could watch over him before and after classes in most cases, and even in his own class, Snape could not watch him all the time. While going from class to class, while in classes, Harry would be an open target.

Draco continued to smirk as he watched the different layers of horror pass over Harry’s face. It was good to see that he could scare Potter. Without his groupies following him around all day, Potter was useless. There was nothing imposing or frightening about the black haired boy. Nothing about Potter seemed threatening at all, and Draco knew he would enjoy watching his Housemates, his real Housemates, beat up and torture the imposter.

But as much fun as a bloodied Potter sounded, Draco suddenly remembered one crucial element he had not factored into his threat: Snape. He had forgotten about that traitor, having gotten too much into frightening Potter. Snape was making Draco watch out for Potter, threatening him, blackmailing! What had the Potions Master said? That if one ended up hurt, he’d blame the other one, no matter what? Damn! That ruined all of the blond’s plans with regard to Potter…but as long as Potter didn’t remember what Snape had said…

“You know what, Potter,” Draco drawled, looking down his nose at the other boy. “I can still save your pathetic hide from the others…”

“But?” Harry growled.

“But,” Malfoy smiled cunningly, “what are you willing to give me in return? I don’t need you to help me against Gryffindors anymore.”

“I’m not giving you anything, Malfoy,” Harry hissed. “So just shove off! I’m not going to be in debt to you!”

“Well then,” Draco shrugged. “I hope you have fun getting beat to a bloody pulp everyday from here on out. Suits me just fine anyway. Oh, but just try not to bleed on my side of the room when you come in from now on, won’t you, Potter? I'm not sure even you could affort to replace some of my things.”

That was it. That was the last straw. Without really thinking, Harry had his wand in hand, and he pointed it at the blond before Malfoy could raise his own. “Stupefy!” he shouted.

But instead of Draco falling over like a sack of potatoes, like both boys had thought may very well happen, the spell that came out of Harry’s wand was not a Stupefy at all. Instead, bright colored sparks of red, green, and purple came out of the end of his wand and they flew around all over the room, having both boys duck and jump around, trying not to get hit with the hot little bolts of light. It took a full ten minutes before things settled down again.

“What the hell was that Potter?” Draco demanded.

“I don’t know!” Harry yelped.

“Are you really so stupid that you can’t even do a proper Stupefy spell?” Malfoy sneered. “I have no idea what that was.”

“It wasn’t me!” Harry growled. “I did the spell right, it just…well, I don’t know what it did, but I know I did it right!”

“Well, maybe you can’t do it right,” the blond smirked. “But let’s see if I can.”

Draco raised his wand so fast and shouted out the Stupefy curse before Harry could have raised his wand to protect himself. But, again, instead of the proper spell happening, the same bright colored lights were emitted from Draco’s wand as well, and for the second time that night both boys were jumping around trying not to get hit. They might have found the situation amusing, seeing their rival dancing around like they had ants in their pants, but both were too distracted cursing and avoiding the bolts of light to see anything amusing about the situation at the moment.

Again, when things had settled down, both boys stood near each other panting slightly. “I…I don’t think we should try that… again,” Harry huffed. “At least not for another twenty minutes.”

When Malfoy looked over at Harry, their eyes locked, and for the first time since their acquaintance, both burst out laughing. Neither one really knew what they were laughing about, but they kept laughing until there were tears in their eyes. “Yeah,” Draco tried to speak through his amusement. “Yeah, just give me a bit of a breather, Potter, and I’ll be ready for round two.”

They both continued to laugh until finally, they stood together in a rather awkward silence. “So…what do you think happened?” Harry asked, wanting to break the uncomfortable silence.

“I think…” Draco began, but paused. “I think that someone warded our room, so that we couldn’t hurt each other.”

“Like…Snape?” Harry threw out the name casually.

The blond smirked, amusement playing in his normally cold eyes. “Yeah, he could do it.”

Another discomforted silence fell before Draco realized that he was on Harry’s side of the room. As quickly as he could, without looking like he was jumping, the young Malfoy went back over to his side of the room and went to his desk. The blond sat down and picked up his quill again, putting his wand away. “I’m working on my Charms essay, so just keep quiet, Potter, will you?” He didn’t sound so confidently angry, but it suited Harry for the time being.

Harry walked over to his own desk and sat down as well. Maybe Draco had the right idea; homework would help him forget about laughing with his archrival. They were not supposed to like each other, and laughing with the enemy just messed up both of their plans of hating each other forever.

~*~

As Snape walked into the Headmaster’s office, he noticed that Albus had a rather old looking piece of parchment. “Is that it?” Severus asked, coming to stand in front of the Headmaster’s desk.

“Yes it is,” Albus nodded. “I’ll need you to sign it.”

“That’s it?” Severus eyed the parchment skeptically. “Is that really all that needs to be done?”

“That’s it,” the older wizard nodded.

“Won’t my signing this alert someone at the Ministry? Won’t someone find out about this?” Snape could not get over his misgivings.

“Believe it or not, Severus, I do have friends, and most of them have been strategically placed within the Ministry,” Dumbledore smiled.

Frowning doubtfully, Severus picked up a quill, only to lower it again. “Are you sure that you can trust this friend of yours?” the Potions Master scowled. “Because if something goes wrong it’s my skin that they’ll have.”

“Nothing will go wrong,” Dumbledore said confidently. Oddly, that didn’t make Severus feel better. “I wrote a letter to them after we talked earlier, so he’ll be ready.”

There were still doubts that flooded the Potions Master’s brain, but he knew that if he was ever going to get out of the castle, this was probably the best and safest way to do it. So, taking back up the quill, Severus signed his name right below Albus’s signature. The green ink seemed to burn into the parchment, and slowly, the once bright green faded into black almost immediately.

“There now!” Albus exclaimed. “It is done.”

“Is that it?” Severus asked again, feeling uneasy. “That’s all that I need to do? Nothing else?”

“That is it,” Dumbledore nodded his head, his blue eyes twinkling. “You now share all of the benefits of a Headmaster with me.”

“Won’t Minerva be angry when she finds out about this?” Snape thought a bit too late. He had not wanted to make McGonagall upset, especially over one of Dumbledore’s plans.

“She won’t find out about this,” Albus said confidently.

“But if this was allowed,” Severus frowned. “Why haven’t you made Minerva sign under you? After all, she is your Deputy Headmistress. I didn’t think you’d want to horde all the power for yourself.”

The old wizard smiled at his younger protégé. “I was saving this for the right time for the right person, you see,” Albus explained. “And I knew I could not share power like this with just anyone. Besides, you need this more than Minerva.”

“I’m afraid I’m still skeptical,” Snape drawled.

The Headmaster chuckled, irritating the Potions Master greatly. “Would you like to test it out?” the old man smiled. “Come, Severus, let’s practice this together. Where would you like to go?”

Severus stood still, not knowing if he really wanted to try this after all. What happened if something went wrong? What if he really couldn’t share in on the Headmaster’s privileges? If something went wrong, then he’d be the one that was shit out of luck.

“Let’s try something simple first, shall we?” Albus asked, noticing that the Professor was hesitant. “To the Quidditch Field, perhaps?”

Taking a deep breath and holding it, Severus nodded once. He knew that if this worked then he could do so much more, but if it didn’t work… “Yes,” he said, trying to convince himself that he was really doing this. He readied his mind.

“Then let’s go,” Dumbledore smiled. “Ready? One, two, three!”

And with two loud cracks, the Headmaster and the Potions Master were gone, having both apparated to the Quidditch Field.

October 29, 1994

Tossing and turning in his sleep, Horace Slughorn battled nightmare after hellish nightmare that seemed to assault him from every angle. When one fight was finished— and seemingly won— a new clash began, stronger and more terrifying then the last. The door to his mind seemed to have cracked open, and now, locked in an epic struggle to seal it, Horace had to wrestle with the bad memories that seemed determined to break free.

At last, it all became too much for the old man, and so he retreated into consciousness. Bolting up, eyes wide, Horace panted considerably in the night, shivering from the cold air that blew against his sweat covered skin. He looked around his dark bedroom, as though expecting to see that the night terrors had followed him, but none had. Instead, the room was silent. The cool night air wafted in from the open window and the curtains swayed gently, shimmering in the moonlight.

In his present state, Horace was simply trying to calm himself down and focus on getting his breathing back under control. He did not realize that he had not opened his window that night, as it was getting too chilly with the autumn air quickly turning. But it was when the curtains danced and the outside lights bounced off of the moving vehicles outside, that his eyes caught sight of something in the corner of his room.

Stiffening, the old wizard slowly turned his head towards the corner, gathering his blankets around him. Fear spiked through his heart when, yet again, he saw a pale face set in a harsh, unforgiving expression, before the lights disappeared and he was alone with it in the dark. 

“Wh…Who’s there?” he whispered, trembling.

From out of his hiding, the figure stepped forward, robed all in black, his long, dark hair was gently flipped by the wind. The stony white face told Slughorn all he needed to know. That man was here for it.

“You’ve finally come,” the old wizard sighed. “I-I knew that he would send you soon enough.”

“Yes,” the intruder said simply, his black robes swirled about him ominously.

A chill ran down the former professor’s spine. “I…I knew that you’d come one day,” he nodded. “I just knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist pestering me about this once again.”

The other man did not answer, but stood still, peering down at Slughorn with callous eyes. The pitiless response was not something that Horace was quite expecting, but he was not encouraged by the lack of feeling, which showed nothing either good or bad. The apparent indifference had the old man squirming in his bed, and Horace just wished that something would happen, something that would drive his unwanted guest packing and scrambling out the door.

“I-I’m not going to give it to you,” Slughorn said after a moment, not sure where his courage came from. “I don’t h-have what you’re looking for. I-I already gave him what he wanted years ago.”

“You and I both know that what you gave wasn’t real, Horace,” the other said candidly.

The old Slytherin blanched. “What? So your master sent you here to scare me into giving it to you?” he snapped, his fear igniting his temper. “Well, I’m not giving it to you,” he said resolutely.

“I do not need you to give it to me.”

Horace was caught off guard by this. He wasn’t going to try and take it? He wasn’t going to force him? “You’re…you’re not?” His voice was small, much weaker than he would have liked. “Why?”

The other wizard suddenly moved, startling Horace awfully. But after a moment, the other man did not make another move, and as Horace’s eyes adjusted, he could make out what was being held up in the dark. It was a small vial, and within it, contained a swirling misty substance that glowed faintly. Slughorn just about got sick.

“I took it from you ten minutes ago,” the silky voice spoke softly. “While you slept.”

Horace sat in his bed horrified. After all these years…after protecting that memory for decades, someone had finally gotten the truth. Someone else knew what had happened all those years ago between himself and the boy who had once been known as Tom Riddle. It had been one of Slughorn’s greatest fears that someone would find out what he had said all those years ago, and now that fear had been realized. But it was not his fault! How was he supposed to know that one of his brightest students would turn and then become one of the greatest dark wizards of all time? How was he supposed to know then what he did now?!

“Please!” the old man whimpered. “Please, don’t give that memory to him,” he pleaded.

The other wizard did not seem moved by the former professor’s entreaty, which furthered the old man’s distress. Instead of saying something to ease Horace’s pain, however, the figure turned to leave, to simply glide out the door as though he were nothing more than a simple phantom in the night.

“Is it too late to say I’m sorry?” Slughorn called out, wanting some sort of comfort, some sort of reassurance for his guilt stricken conscious.

In the doorway, the wizard stopped. There was a moment of silence that passed, before the man responded. “Never.”

“I’m so sorry!” Horace cried. “I never knew that he would—”

“No one did.”

Silence fell over them again for several eternal moments. “So that’s it then?” Horace spat bitterly. “That’s it, you just come and take my memory while I’m defenseless and then you are to leave, as though you were never here at all. You worked quite well, sneaking about. Very Slytherin of you. But tell me, why did you stay? You had my memory, why didn’t you just leave?”

The other wizard turned with a terrifying scowl to face his former professor. “I had wanted to see if you were all right after I had forcibly removed your memory. I could have killed you.”

“But you knew you wouldn’t,” Slughorn smiled acrimoniously. “We both know that you would never have risked it had you thought you could not safely do this. You are too good to do that.”

“No,” the wizard shook his head. “Not good. Ambition is the only force that moves me.”

“Ambition to do what you believe is right!” Horace laughed mirthlessly. “Please, my boy, when you review that memory with the Headmaster, please do not think of me so unkindly. I…I never knew…”

“No,” Severus shook his head. “No one could have.”

And before he could be detained further, Snape apparated away, leaving Horace Slughorn cold and alone, worrying about what the day would bring.

~*~

October 30, 1994

Harry woke up Sunday morning feeling like someone had smacked him in the face. He peeled open his heavy eyelids and groaned. It was only five thirty on a Sunday morning. Why his body had decided to get up at this time when he had at least a full hour and a half left to sleep was beyond him. But he sat up for a moment and looked over at his clock with blurred vision just to make sure that he was reading the numbers correctly.

The dungeon was cold, much colder than it usually was, and Harry shivered. He laid back down and tried snuggling into the warm comfort of his blankets, hoping to fall back into dream with no avail. Although he was exhausted, he simply could not go back to sleep. He was not sure why his body had wanted him up this early, but here he was, lying awake because something kept telling him that it was time to get up. For some reason, he felt as though something had happened, something that he would want to know about…

The other schools! Harry suddenly remembered. They would be arriving today; Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. The Tournament was finally getting under way. Everyone had been talking about this for a long time that it seemed almost surreal that it was actually happening now. It was a bit strange to think of other people attending Hogwarts other than just the simple British, Scottish, Welsh, and Irish children that normally came. For just a moment, Harry wondered where all the extra students would stay. 

Looking over at his roommate, Harry spied Draco in the other bed, sleeping soundly, curled up under his own blankets. When the blonde was asleep, the raven haired boy didn’t think that his roommate was nearly as bad as when he was awake. In fact, when Malfoy was unconscious, he was almost tolerable! Perhaps having the other schools come would help keep the pureblood’s thoughts and notice off of Harry and focused elsewhere. Hopefully everyone would forget about him in favor of pouring all of their time and attention on the new students. How wonderful that would be!

But for the time being, unable to sleep with his mind too noisy, Harry decided to just lay in bed and think about what he would do. He had a lot he needed to get done…not school work—that’s all he seemed to be doing anymore in his spare time!— but he had a lot he needed to do socially. At the top of the list was to get Ron to talk to him again. The stubborn red head simply refused to even look in Harry’s direction. But the new Slytherin was determined to get his best friend back. After all, Harry was discovering that he had a lot more ambition than he’d previously thought.

But then a close second was to figure out just what he was going to do with Malfoy. After the strange episode that occurred after they’d tried to hex each other several days ago, their…relationship had been rather strange. Despite the threats, the blonde had not ordered his goonies to attack Harry nor had he said anything to anyone about Harry trying to hex him silly. It seemed that another strange, rocky truce had been called between them, and that was something the former Gryffindor hoped to keep.

So, plotting quietly in his bed, Harry made his own plans for how his school year would carry out.

~*~

While Harry was just beginning to wake up, Severus was in the Headmaster’s office, pacing about the room agitatedly. “Six?” he growled.

“So it would seem,” Albus sighed wearily, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Merlin!” The Potions Master kept up his furious pacing, his robes fluttering about anxiously around their master. “To destroy your soul once, but six times?”

“It seems that Tom did not want to take a chance at losing his immortality.” The Headmaster poured himself a steaming cup of tea.

“I had always suspected the Dark Lord of possessing one, but one only!” Severus sat down opposite his employer, forgetting for the time being, that he still loathed the old wizard.

“Indeed?” Albus raised a white eyebrow. “And how is it that you know of horcruxes, Severus? Surely Tom would not have spoken of them with his followers?”

Snorting, Severus also took up a cup of tea. “Certainly not,” he growled. “Immortality was for the Dark Lord and the Dark Lord alone. He would not dare chance one of his followers become like him, and perhaps one day stronger than he. Such a Death Eater might try to over throw him. No, I came to find out about horcruxes due to my own investigation.”

The two paused, each lost in their own thoughts. They were both smart men, they knew what they had just discovered, and it was not good. If Voldemort really managed to create six horcrux then it spelled disaster in the future for them all. Would they find all of these objects? Would the Dark Lord really be around for years to come? Would generation after generation have to rise up and defeat the madman six times before Voldemort was finally gone from the earth?

“Durmstrang and Beauxbatons arrive today.” Severus took a sip of his tea. It was simple earl grey, no sugar. His favorite. “What are we going to do?”

“For now?” Albus looked out his window into the dark morning. The sun had not shown her face to the world yet. “We prepare for the other schools like we’ve been doing. Make sure that the Tournament goes on without a hitch while also making up with the other professors. Unfortunately, my boy, while we do this, it is you and I who will have to think on what to do about this new dilemma. No one else may know about this.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Severus snapped. “No,” he shook his head tiredly. “You are right. Minerva will have to shoulder more responsibility as we look into this horcrux business.”

“I do not think she will mind much,” the Headmaster shook his head. “She’s been worrying over this Tournament for over a month now. I believe she’d like to handle things on her own; give her more control over it. I’m sure she’d like to be the one in the knows.”

There was no arguing with that. Minerva was the type that liked to be in the inner circle of just about everything and she liked being in control. If Albus and Severus could give her more control over the Tournament that meant that she would be too busy with that then trying to figure out just what the Headmaster and the Potions Master were trying to do. In a sense, she would be helping more with the horcrux situation by not helping. Minerva was a good hard worker, but she would be of little use in the cat and mouse game of hide and seek that they two wizards were attempting to play.

“How are we going to find these things?” Severus asked after a moment.

Albus looked down at his tea thoughtfully. “We’re going to have to dissect Tom’s life as best as we can. I have a few memories of his…and perhaps we should look at some of yours. Perhaps you’ve forgotten something or maybe we can discover new insights.”

Whatever was going to happen, Severus just knew that his part in this was going to be hell. He knew that he was just about the only one that Dumbledore could depend on with secrets and with planning out ways to defeat the Dark Lord, and yet he was worried. After all, he was being hunted by just about every dark wizard in Britain and here he was, risking his neck openly to run about doing the Headmaster’s errands. Although things had been dangerous for Severus before, no one really knew just what kind of danger he was in, now he could not hide what he really was; both sides already knew.

Nodding once, Snape took another sip of his tea. The sweet aroma wafted up into his nostril calming him slightly with its familiar scent. “I suppose that’s all we can do…I have something also that I believe you should look at soon enough. The Dark Lord has had me keep it for years. I’ve never known exactly what it was, but I believe it may help ease our search a bit.”

“Every little bit does count,” Albus dipped his head.

So, the two wizards continued on, making plans for the Order and about the other schools that would soon arrive. But while they were talking, a little part of Severus’s mind strayed off topic and he thought about his son and how best to protect Harry from not only the Defense teacher, but now also from the new schools and from the Death Eaters that lurked outside of Hogwarts.

~*~

Later that day, once the sun was up and shining, Harry sat outside reading a book by the lake under an old oak tree. The weather was chilly out, but at the same time bracing and invigorating. It sure beat sitting in the dark, dank dungeons all day, wondering if Malfoy was going to come back and taunt him. Actually, Harry noticed that his roommate spent a lot more time in his room than he did out and about with the other Slytherins. Harry had always thought Malfoy was the type that thrived on attention at all times, but now that he had lived with the other boy for almost two complete months, he was beginning to see that that was not the case. Draco seemed to want attention only when he wanted attention, which was usually in a social setting. Once out of the halls where other Houses couldn’t see him, the pureblood all but washed his hands of his “friends” and tended to simply lock himself away in his room or wonder into the common room to do his homework, ignoring everyone else who was there. Harry supposed Malfoy could get away with such actions and still be thought well of since he was rich.

But such thoughts were not what Harry was trying to think of today. All he wanted was an easy day by himself, away from everyone else, perhaps plan his talk with Ron. So far, no one had taunted him about something, nor did anyone stare at him too long. Today, the other schools were coming, and now Harry had lost his fame for the time being and was over looked, something he had been wanting ever since he came to Hogwarts.

Just when he thought that he might spend a whole quiet afternoon by himself, someone plopped down next to him under the tree. Harry looked up in surprise to see a blonde haired girl sitting beside him, not even sparing him a glance as she had her nose in a book herself. It was a strange looking book, and as Harry tried reading it, he realized that she was holding it upside down.

As he looked her over, Harry could not determine anything else out about this strange girl other than she was blonde and could not figure out how to read. He all set to ignore her when she spoke up suddenly. “You think it would be easy to find them, but it seems that the Crumple-Horned Snorkack is better at hiding than I thought,” she said breezily, as though she and Harry had been old friends and as though they were simply carrying on an earlier discussion.

Thrown off guard, Harry could not help but frown. “Erm…a what’s hiding?”

Lowering her book at last, the blonde girl reviled herself to the confused Slytherin. She had bright silver, blue eyes that held a rather peaceful, whimsical fancy to them, and her long hair was a bit messy and windblown, yet it did not distract one from her pretty face. She had her wand and a quill behind her ears and a large nap sack still hung on her shoulder that was filled with books. To Harry’s utter surprise, the girl was wearing a blue and bronze tie. She was a Ravenclaw…one that held books upside down…

“A Crumple-Horned Snorkack,” the girl repeated. “One would think that such a large creature would be easily spotted, but thus far it has eluded naturalist for years.”

Harry was not sure if he was less or more confused. Although he had not know many magical animals when he had come to Hogwarts, he had been doing an awful lot of reading the past several years, and never once had he come across the name of Crummy-Horned Spork-snack or whatever she had just said.

“Uh…” Harry struggled to come up with something to say as the blue eyes stared back at him expectantly. “Are you sure that they’re so big?” He didn’t really know what he was talking about, but it was the only thing he could think of to say.

The odd girl cocked her head to the side, her messy blonde hair fell down her shoulders. Her face was pensive, as though she had suddenly been struck with a very difficult problem. “You know,” she said after a moment, “maybe you’re right. That might explain why no one’s seen them. Maybe it’s just the opposite. Maybe they’re small and that’s why no one has seen them before.” Her warm eyes continued to look Harry over considerately. “You’re eyes match wonderfully with your tie. Green and green go well together,” she smiled gently.

Thrown by the complete change in topics, Harry could do nothing but give a forced smile. “Um, thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” the girl chirped. “I like green,” she went on. “It’s a nice color, the color of grass. Sweden is really green I hear. My father and I want to go to Sweden some day.”

“Oh,” Harry decided that there was no point in keeping his book open. It seemed that this girl was going to stay on a while, so no reading would get done for some time. He closed his book after he marked it. “What do you want to do in Sweden?” he felt compelled to ask.    

“Why, we’re going to go see the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks!” she looked at Harry as though he was quite slow, making the boy blush. “I thought you were paying attention to the conversation?”

“Well how could I?” Harry asked defensively. “I don’t know what a Crummy-Hooked Snoflax is!”

At this, the girl laughed. It was a very light, airy sound, the same as her voice. “It’s a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, not a Crummy-Hooked Snoflax. You won’t find those in Sweden…though you might look in Siberia if you’re really earnest about searching for them.”It was sad to know that she was being serious.

“Um, no thanks. I’ll stay right here in the U.K. thank you,” he gave an uneasy smile again. What a strange girl!

She began to study Harry with a curious gaze, making Harry’s stomach flip-flop all around. What was she looking for? Could she see through his glamour somehow? “You don’t look anything like I thought you would,” she said after a moment. “Before I came to Hogwarts, I’d always imagined that you’d be taller and your nose would be larger.”

The talk about larger noses made the Slytherin uncomfortable. His nose was larger without the glamour and he was taller. His father was tall, and he was told once that the Snape men were never under five foot eleven. Harry’s own father had grown to a proud six foot two. “Sorry to disappoint you,” he snapped before he could catch himself.

“That’s all right,” the girl said, not offended in the least. In fact, Harry wondered if she had even caught on to the fact that he had been upset before. “It’s not really your fault. I just like bigger noses. It gives the face more character, don’t you think? Gives you something to look at that distinguishes one person from another easily.”

“I suppose…” What a weird girl!

“It’s a nice day,” she went on. “I believe that it’s good weather for the Blibbering Humdinger.”

Was there no end to the oddities of this girl? Harry had spent only about ten minutes in her company and he still had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. Most of the words that came out of her mouth meant nothing to him, and he was becoming exasperated.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last. “But I really have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t know any of the things you’re talking about.”

Again, the girl laughed lightly. She turned away from Harry for a moment and went about digging in her satchel. After a moment of looking, she pulled out a magazine and handed it to him. In big letter on the cover, in blue letters with a pink outline, it read The Quibbler.

“Here you are,” she smiled. “There’s articles about both the Crumple-Horned Snorkack and the Blibbering Humdinger. You may keep that if you like. I have more.”

Taken aback for the third time, Harry took the offered magazine and scanned the front page. “Uh, thanks…um, I’m sorry, but have we ever met before?” Harry blushed. He was, however, quite certain that he had never met this bizarre girl before even though she looked close to his age, as he was certain he’d remember someone so abnormal.

“Oh! I’m sorry.” She held out her hand. “I’m Luna Lovegood. Ravenclaw. Third year.”

At last understanding something proper, Harry took her hand. “Harry Potter. Former Gryffindor, now Slytherin. Fourth year.”

Luna smiled at him softly. “I remember your resorting. That was very interesting. I don’t think that Hat’s ever resorted anyone before.”

“Yeah, that’s what everyone’s been telling me.” Bitterness leaked into his voice. “But it’s not so bad I guess…I’m surviving.”

“That’s nice,” Luna nodded. “How do you like Slytherin? Is it better than Gryffindor? Or is it really just the same?”

Merlin but she knew just how to make him squirm! Harry was not exactly sure what he should tell her even though he knew what he wanted to say. “It’s…different,” he said at last. “It’s…yeah, it’s just different.”

“Well, I’m glad that you have gotten into your proper House now. I never really saw you as a Gryffindor either.” She picked up the book she had been reading upside down and began skimming through a few pages as though Harry were no longer there.

But Luna’s words had taken Harry by complete astonish. “You never saw me as a Gryffindor?” he couldn’t help but ask, dumbfounded.

“No,” Luna looked up.

“But why!” Harry almost threw his hands up in the air due to his exasperation. “Both my parents were in Gryffindor.”

“And why should that matter?” Luna cocked her head once more to the left.

Harry was not sure when he had ever been so confused or stunned during a conversation except when his aunt had told him that Snape was really his father. This girl, this Luna Lovegood, was just so anomalous that it was making his head spin. Normally, Harry might have been annoyed with someone like this, the dismissive way she went from one subject to the next with seemingly little regard as to what she was saying, but he was not. Rather, Harry was actually intrigued by Luna. Nothing she was saying was supposed to be hurtful, she merely observed something and stated her study.

So, with that in mind, Harry took a deep breath and looked at Luna calmly. “Well,” he began with the greatest patience in the world. “Aren’t children usually in the same House as their parents?”

“But if that were the case, what would happen to children with parents from different Houses?”

“I suppose then they’d just be in one or the other,” Harry shrugged.

For the first time since their unorthodox introduction, Luna frowned slightly. “I do not think that children are simply copies of their parents. They have their own, distinct personalities.”

“Well I never said that children were clones or anything!”

“Well that’s good then,” Luna looked back at her book. “I’m glad you broke away from the mold of your family. You always seemed more reserved and ambitious to me. Those aren’t Gryffindor traits!”

It had not taken long for Harry to come up with the thought that this girl was crazy, but the more she kept talking, he grew more and more certain that this Luna Lovegood was just a bit of a loon like her name so wonderfully hinted. And yet she was cheerful and interesting, something new and refreshing. Harry had become rather lonesome over the course of his stay at Hogwarts thus far, and it was nice to meet someone that didn’t automatically judge or condemn him. Hermione and Neville were great, and Harry would have never traded them for the world, but they still looked at him skeptically sometimes, and often mourned the fact that he no longer wore red and gold, even though he was still the same person on the inside. It was actually a bit shocking to find someone who agreed with the Hat and thought that all this was a good thing.

“I suppose they aren’t really,” he nodded.

Wistfully Luna returned to her book. It seemed as though she had set up camp under the tree next to Harry when she suddenly stood up, book firmly in her hands, still upside down. “It’s been lovely talking to you, Harry.” She peeked over her book before shoving it back up to her face. “I do hope that you and Ron can sort through things.”

With that, she turned on her heels and began marching away, not bothering to look where she was going. Harry was so stunned by what Luna had said that for a moment, he just sat there stupidly. “Hey! Wait!” he called after a moment. “Hey! Luna!”

The blonde twirled around and looked over at the raven haired boy questioningly. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“How did you know about me and Ron?” he decided to be blunt. “I didn’t think that…well…I’d been rather hoping no one would knew that we were fighting, but I guess that was too much to ask for, huh?”

“No, not really.” Luna put her book back into her satchel. “I would want some things about my life to be private too. That’s not asking much.”

“I guess not,” Harry agreed. “But have you heard a lot about our fighting? Is it all over school or something?”

The girl looked over Harry compassionately. “No, not to my knowledge,” she shook her long hair, making several strands fall in her face. “Ginny was talking to me the other day about Ron. That’s how I found out what I did.”

“And what did Ginny tell you?” With everything else going on, Harry had quite forgotten about Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys. What was everyone saying now? It hurt knowing that Ron was angry with him, but the thought of all the Weasleys being disgusted with him was almost too much for the Slytherin. It’s not like he’d asked for all this to happen! It’s not like he had come to Hogwarts with the intent of getting a new House or anything.

“Oh, not too much, just that all the Gryffindors were shocked when you’d been resorted. To be honest, no one thought you’d last this long. I’m actually surprised that no one’s tried harming you yet. Although they have their commendable aspects, Slytherins usually keep to their own and do not like outsiders so much. They remind me a great deal of an angry mother nargle. They’re quite nasty when they want to be.”

Heaven only knew what a nargle was or any of the other things Luna was talking about. For just a moment, Harry’s mind wandered and he wondered if these things Luna was talking about were animals or maybe even plants? The nargle thing had to be an animal and so did that that thing that was supposed to be in Sweden, but as for the Blibbering Humdinger, he wasn’t all that sure.

“Oh,” was all he said in response. His sprits fell at the thought of everyone making bets on how long he’d actually survive as a snake.

“Don’t be sad, Harry,” Luna place a dainty hand on his shoulder. “It’s not so bad. Professor Snape seems to be watching out for you, and if he is, then I don’t think that anything bad will happen to you. He can be very malicious when he wants to be and if he’d wanted you hurt then he would’ve let the other Slytherins hurt you by now.”

“Thanks?” Harry wasn’t sure if he should be all that comforted or not.

“You’re welcome,” Luna smiled brightly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve just figured out where at in Sweden the Crumple-Horned Snorkack must dwell. Obviously they’d be near the water!”

Still a bit confused, Harry nodded. “Of course.”

“Oh look!” Luna suddenly pointed out across the grass, startling Harry. “There’s Brittney!”

Harry looked out as well and indeed, saw the other girl walking away from the castle. “Yeah, it is,” he smiled. “She’s my Herbology partner.”

“She’s good with plants,” Luna nodded. “And there’s that Nott boy from your House.” She frowned slightly. “I wish that he would go and talk to Brittney so he could ask her out instead of sneaking about and stalking her.”

“Wait…What?” Harry looked over at Luna. How did she come up with that?

“I think they’d make a cute couple, don’t you?”

And before Harry could answer, Luna was gone, sauntering away in the sunshine as though she had never had a conversation with anyone at all.

Chapter 43: Restarts

October 30

After his introduction to Luna Lovegood, Harry found that he was unable to get over the sheer oddness of the girl. She had been quirky and fanciful with her talk of creatures that Harry had never heard about in his life, but pleasantly so. Now that he had time to think, the Slytherin found that he had enjoyed his encounter with the Ravenclaw. She was refreshing and had never once stared at him like he was some sort of freak show or a traitor. In fact, Luna never once glared at him or seemed weary of him. It had made Harry feel good.

Shaking his head, Harry began walking away with a smirk, adjusted his satchel on his shoulder. He would not be able to read anymore today, his thoughts were too unfocused now. It was funny how just one girl could make his completely lose focus. But Harry was sure he couldn’t read anything about Charms while the mystery of what the Crumple-Horned Snorkack really was loomed over him. He chuckled at the thought. As he began lazily gait across the lawn, Harry saw Hermione, Neville, and Ron going down to the lake. Even from a distance, Harry could tell that the Gryffindors were arguing, and he had a pretty good guess what it was about.  Taking a deep breath, the Slytherin decided to sail into dangerous territory.

“—and I don’t think—”

“That’s just the problem, Ronald! You never do!”

“Hey guys,” Harry walked over to the quarreling group, hoping that he could distract them from their anger towards one another.

“Harry!” Hermione’s eyes went wide for a moment in surprise before she was able to calm herself. Ron simply scowled. “Hi,” the girl went on a bit uneasily.

“Hello, Harry,” Neville smiled gently.

“Hi,” Harry smiled uneasily.

“What do you want?” Ron snapped irritably. It was obvious that the other two Gryffindor had been giving the Weasley a rather hard time.

Scowling right back, the Slytherin hoped that he looked about as displeased as his father did when a first year blew up a cauldron. “I thought I’d just come over and talk to my friends.” He pinned Ron with a hard look. At Ron’s surprised expression, Harry sighed. “Look Ron, I know you’re still mad at me, but really, none of this is my fault! I can’t help that the Hat put me in Slytherin now. I didn’t want to be resorted, but that’s just what happened. Can we stop this feud and just be friends again? I’m still the same person. Really!”

Ron gave the other boy a weary glance before he turned to Hermione. “You told him that I was coming out here, didn’t you?”

“I most certainly did not,” Hermione huffed. “Harry was clearly outside before us and decided to be the bigger person and come over to talk to us.”

The red head looked back over at the boy that had once been his best friend. It seemed like there was a battle raging in the young Weasley’s mind, as though he were trying to think of reasons to continue his anger towards Harry. It hurt the Slytherin to know that his friend was behaving so childishly. Hadn’t Ron been excited to see him after he thought he’d been killed? Why then did he turn around and hate him?

“I…” Ron began. “I…It’s just so…weird, you know? I mean…we all thought that you were dead, and then the next minute you’re alive…only you’re not you anymore. You’re a Slytherin now, Harry. How…”

Getting the stubborn ginger to actually talk was an accomplishment, one that Harry recognized. “I’m still the same Ron! You remember I told you all about what the Sorting Hat said to me my first year, and how it tried then to put me into Slytherin…I guess I just really belonged there.”

“But you also said that Dumbledore told you that only a Gryffindor could pull Godric Gryffindor’s sword out from the Sorting Hat. You did that second year, remember?” Ron frowned. “You have to be a real Gryffindor, Harry! How could you have done that otherwise?”

“I don’t know!” Harry cried helplessly. “I don’t know why everything is happening like it is, but it just is. And if you can’t accept me for the things I can’t control then I guess we shouldn’t really be friends anymore. Goodbye Ron.”

Turning around and walking away, Harry had to fight the disgust and disappointment he felt. It was one of the worst feelings he had ever felt in his life. This was not the way he had wanted things to end between himself and Ron, but what else could he do? He knew he couldn’t make Ron like him, so what was the point of running after the Gryffindor? Funny, a year ago Harry might have kept trying, stubbornly never letting go until he had succeeded.

“Harry, wait!” he heard Neville call.

Determined not to turn around, the Slytherin kept his steady pace and kept on his march when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see Neville staring at him with sad eyes. “Harry, please don’t be too mad at Ron…he just needs a little time. He’ll come around. I know he’ll apologize once he realizes that to not forgive you would mean never to be your friend.”

“He’s right,” Hermione came back over. “I think that Ron just needs to actually sit down to think.”

Although he knew that his friends were trying to help, it didn’t make Harry feel much better. Would Ron ever come around and actually think about what Harry had told him? The Slytherin hoped so. He missed his best mate’s lively manner and loud laughing. But feeling as though he should do something, Harry tried to smile at the friends that did stay by him.

“Yeah. I guess he’ll come around when he’s ready,” Harry shrugged.

With that, the new trio went and sat down by the lake together, talking and laughing about what was happening around them. Hermione and Neville filled in Harry about the doings of the Gryffindors from the start of the year to the present. It was nice to listen to news about his old house mates. Harry found that as he listened, he missed all of his old house mates, even Collin and Dennis Creevey always taking his picture.

In turn, Harry told them everything he knew as well. But wanting to hide how hurt he really was, the new Slytherin felt compelled to make his stories energetic and funny. He told them all about his cold war with Malfoy, about how he and the blonde nearly hexed each other to kingdom come and how it didn’t work, and then lastly, about Luna. Although he had just met the girl a short time ago, he felt that he had really made a friend with her. Where Hermione and Neville’s friendship was safe, familiar, Luna’s was new and interesting. Harry wondered just what Luna would bring to the table…other than her Quibbler and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks!

“Luna?” Hermione frowned. “Luna Lovegood?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded vigorously. “She was really strange, but funny.” A fond smile crept up on his face as he recalled how charmingly absurd the girl was.

“I think I know her.” Neville’s face was set in a concentrated mask. “I think she and Ginny talk some times. Ginny swears that that Luna girl’s cracked.”

Harry laughed. “I’ll second that!” he snickered. “But she’s really a good sort of person, just a bit odd.”

So the three went on talking until the sun rose high in the sky, signaling that it was time for lunch. And if that wasn’t enough, then Neville’s stomach growling was all that was left to convince the three that it was time to go in for a bit. So the three friends left their spot by the lake and began their long walk back to the castle.

Harry was actually having such a good time laughing and joking that when they began walking up the steps, he did not immediately see that there was someone waiting for them. It was only when the three children nearly collided with the Potions Master that they realized that there was someone there at all.

“Mr. Potter,” Snape looked down at the children in front of him with hard eyes. “Please follow me.”

Neville visibly paled in the presence of the teacher, making Harry feel sorry for his friend. One day, the Slytherin planned to help the poor Gryffindor get over his fear of his father. Knowing the Potions Master as well as he did now, Harry couldn’t help but find it a bit amusing that his friend was so terrified of the professor. Once you got under the spiky, sarcastic demeanor of the man, Snape really wasn’t so bad.

Looking back at his friends, he gave them each a small smile. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“We’ll meet you in the library later,” Hermione offered. “Hello, professor,” she gave a nervous smile to the Potions Master while Neville continued to look at his feet.

“Miss Granger,” Snape said, before he spun around sharply and began to stride back into the castle, not looking back to see if Harry were following. Brightening his grin, Harry nodded to his friends before he hurried after his father, hoping that he’d be able to catch up with the long-legged professor.

The two walked until they were in an empty classroom not far from the Great Hall. Once Harry was in, Snape closed the door and put several wards upon it, making sure that they could privately speak without anyone over hearing them. “We need to talk,” Severus said bluntly before he sat down gracefully in a dusty chair.

Harry followed suit and sat down near his father. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” Severus looked about the old room as though trying to spy if there was something amiss. “No, I merely wanted to speak with you before the other schools arrived.”

A true smile sprang up on Harry’s face at his father’s declaration. “I guess we haven’t really seen much of each other lately, have we?” he grinned.

“Indeed we have not.” The elder wizard gave his son just the smallest hint of a smile in return. “I am pleased to see that you’ve stayed out of trouble thus far.” Harry beamed. “But, I would ask that you maintain this new record of obeying the rules while the other schools arrive,” Severus pinned his son with a hard look. “I have no desire to go chasing after you at all hours of the night as you wander about the castle.”

“I didn’t always go wandering about, you know,” Harry frowned, crossing his arms with a slight huff.

The professor merely raised an eyebrow at the boy, looking putout. “As the man sent to always run after you, I believe that I know all about your…illegal activities over the years, Harry.”

The boy smirked shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah…I guess I always wondered why it was you that found me when I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to…”

Snape shook his head, but there was just the faintest touch of amusement. “I’ll say it once more; stay away from the Tri-wizard Cup. Stay out of the spotlight for once in your life, boy. Let the other schools take the attention off of you. It will be safer that way.”

“I don’t go looking for these things to happen to me, they just do, sir,” the boy shrugged. “But I’m not going to do anything. Promise! I don’t want to be in the spotlight anymore than I have to be. I just want to be normal.”

The two stared at each other for a moment, Snape looking the boy up and down before he stood up, muttering something that sounded an awful lot like “Yeah, good luck with that” before he dusted off his robes with all the grace and dignity of a prince. “Good. I’m glad we understand each other. You may go to lunch now, if you’d like, with your friends.”

Harry’s face fell a bit. “Oh. We’re…not going to talk anymore?”

The black eyes across from him looking a bit startled before going dull once more. Harry hated that. It made the man so much harder to read. “I…suppose we can talk later this evening, after the other schools have arrived. You can give me a quick report of your initial reactions of them.”

Green eyes lit up brighter than the fire under the potion cauldrons. “Okay! I mean, sure, that sounds good,” he tried to cover his excitement at the prospect. “I’ll, uh, just see you then.”

“Very well,” the professor nodded. “Before you go,” the boy stopped in his tracks. “The Slytherins…they’re treating you well?”

Thinking back to his fellow housemates, the new Slytherin thought about his experience in his new House carefully. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “They’ve been okay. I think Malfoy’s really been working hard to keep them off my back,” he admitted reluctantly.

The older wizard nodded approvingly. “Good. Off with you then. Go eat. We’ll talk later.”

“Okay, bye!” the boy smiled before he ran out of the room and towards the Great Hall. He was actually starving today for some reason. All that talk of magical creatures that more than likely didn’t exist seemed to have worked up an appetite.

As soon as he was in the Great Hall, the lone Slytherin sat down where he normally did at the end of the table near the professors, as he filled his plate. The other students were noisy and active as always, shouting and some attempting to do homework. Harry was so focused on his people watching while he ate his sandwich, that when books suddenly slammed down beside him, he jumped slightly before looking over.

Draco Malfoy planted himself down beside his roommate, looking extremely upset, and more than a little vicious. It took the shorter boy a moment to actually comprehend that the blonde had actually lowered himself to sit with the likes of someone like Harry before he found his voice. “Can I help you?”

“Belt up, Potter,” the blonde snarled. “I’m sitting here, so just shut it.”

The younger boy blinked, before frowning right back. “I don’t care if you sit here,” he said simply, watching as Malfoy looked at him in surprise. “I just wondered what the almighty Slytherin prince was doing here with the likes of me.”

“None of your damned business!” the other hissed almost reflexively before he stopped and seemed to think better of it. “I just…didn’t want to sit with the others right now…”

Seeing Draco like this was probably weirder than his encounter with Luna, but to his credit, Harry tried to remain calm and indifferent, just as he had seen his father and the other Slytherins do. He wanted to ask what the other was up to, why he seemed so upset, or even just tell the blonde to take a hike, but something stopped him. There was something about the way the other boy held himself that suggested hurt, like he was just being defensive because he didn’t want anyone else to know something was wrong.

Turning away from Malfoy, Harry went back to eating his sandwich, carefully keeping tabs on his company. “Fine. Whatever.”

The awkwardness increased exponentially as time went on, and soon the former Gryffindor wasn’t sure he could even eat. Draco wasn’t eating. He just filled his plate and sat staring down at it like it might jump up and bite him in the nose. There was always the possibility that such a thing could happen, of course, especially to someone like Malfoy, but Harry honestly had no idea what had gotten into the pureblood. Since he started living with the other, he had never seen the blonde look quite so pale before.

“So what do you think the other students will be like?”

“What?” Malfoy snapped his head up, narrowing his eyes. Harry just stared at the other boy coolly.

“I just asked what you thought the other students would be like. You know, from the other schools?”

Grey eyes narrowed farther into slits. “How the bloody hell should I know! What’s your game, Potter?”

“Nothing,” the younger wizard shrugged. “Just thought I’d make conversation.”

“Why?” the blonde pressed. “Snape put you up to this, did he? Wanted to keep tabs on me?”

“No,” Harry shook his head. Maybe his father did want to keep an eye out on Draco, but he had certainly never asked his son to deliberately spy on the other. Snape would just ask about his godson, but that was all. “It’s just rather boring to sit with someone and not talk.”

It seemed as though Malfoy was about to start screaming, or at the very least that he was maybe going to get up and walk away, but to Harry’s surprise—maybe even Draco’s as well—the blonde’s shoulders slumped forward and he turned away resentfully. “Those from Beauxbaton students will probably be very stuck up and those from Durmstrang aggressive.”

The black haired boy blinked several times in surprise. Had Malfoy actually answered his casual question? “Why?”

“Because, you dolt,” Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Beauxbaton are French and Durmstrang from Sweden. Don’t think England’s forgot its rivalry with the French, nor the Norse their proud Viking heritage. They hold just as tightly to tradition as the rest of us.”

Again, Harry blinked before looking down at his plate, feeling a big stupid for some reason. Probably because Malfoy had been so condescending. “Yeah, well, you should judge someone like that just based on cultural stereotypes,” he muttered.

“Even if they’re true?” The question was challenging as much as it was curious, and Harry wondered if no one had ever told the blonde something like this before. It seemed completely possible that in the Malfoy household, stereotypes were everything, that it was just an easy way for the rich to discredit everyone else.

 And a thought occurred to Harry; maybe Malfoy acted the way he did not solely because he was a git—thought git he was—maybe he did it because he had no idea how else to act? It seemed entirely possible, at least. It didn’t excuse Malfoy’s despicable attitude or actions over the years, of course, but it did make a lot more sense as to why the other was such an ass.

“Yeah,” the former Gryffindor nodded. “Yeah, you really should judge like that no matter what.”

Draco frowned, seemed about ready to argue his point, but then, for whatever reason, didn’t. “What sort of drivel do they teach you in those Muggle schools,” he muttered.

Harry shrugged and another silence lapsed over the two Slytherins. Just when it seemed that it was going to be a completely silent affair between them, Malfoy started in again. “You know, you don’t have to sit here.”

The newer Slytherin looked up. “What?”

Malfoy seemed uncomfortable, as though he had just admitted a terrible truth. “You don’t have to sit here, you know,” he stated again, refusing to look at Harry. “There’s no rule saying that you have to remain seated at your own House’s table. You can go sit with your friends if you want.”

Was Malfoy trying to be…nice? It was so startling that Harry wasn’t sure if he had heard him right, even after the second time it had been repeated. “I-I know,” he found his voice after a minute. “I just don’t think the majority of them would really like it if I was over there.”

“Don’t see why,” Draco crossed his arms, still not meeting the other boy’s eyes. “Unless they really did want to get rid of you after all the trouble you caused.”

Although it was a bit insulting, Harry was pretty sure he had heard a hit of humor in the blonde’s voice. Had Draco been attempting a joke, albeit a poor one? The idea of it seemed so ridiculous, and yet, there had been no real bite behind the accusation. Whatever was wrong with Malfoy see med to have opened up a new side of the boy, one that Harry found he was able to deal with and understand a bit better.

Instead of take the easy route of being insulted, the younger boy smiled slightly and shrugged. “Yeah, something like that, I guess.”

“That’s stupid,” the blonde rolled his eyes. Harry wasn’t sure what that meant exactly.

Just when they were nearly finished, or at least Harry was as Malfoy hadn’t eaten anything, a nasily voice flittered over from down the table. “Draco?”

The blonde blanched before turning to Harry with wide eyes. “I’ll give you ten galleons if you say I’m not here.”

“What?” 

But before Harry to question it more, Malfoy ducked down and slipped under the table. In the next minute, Pansy was there, looking about frantically when her eyes landed on the black haired boy. She looked torn between asking and just ignoring the former Gryffindor, as she had been doing thus far, but at last, her desire for the other Slytherin led her to ask, “Have you seen Draco?”

Something grabbed Harry’s leg, and he knew very well that if he gave the blonde away, that Malfoy would be sure to hex him into oblivion. “Nope,” he said instead, continuing to eat.

“Are you sure?” the girl put her hands on her hips. “Someone said he was down here.”

“Why would he come down here with me?”

That seemed to make some sense to the girl and with another sneer, she walked away with a pug nose in the air. Another minute later, the blonde peeked out. “Is she gone?”

Harry smirked down his former rival, enjoying the way the other scowled at him when he realized his actions were actually quite childish. “Yeah, she’s gone,” the emerald eyed boy continued to smirk.

With a sigh, the blonde crawled out from his hiding space and dusted off his pants. “That was close,” he muttered. Almost as though it were against his will, the blonde looked at the other boy before mumbling a “Thanks.”

“So,” Harry drawled casually. “Is that why you’re in such a bad mood? Pansy hunting you?”

“It’s certainly a factor,” the blonde nodded before grabbing a slice of sandwich.

“I thought you liked her?”

“Are you kidding me?” Malfoy scowled at him, as though he were gravely insulted. “She’d got the face of a pug! Her only redeeming quality is that she’s pureblood. That’s the only reason she’s ever going to marry one day.”

The younger wizard frowned. “That’s harsh,”  Harry frowned. Draco just shrugged. “And there’s more to a person than just who their parents are.”

For some reason, that seemed to strike a chord with the blonde, and he set down his sandwich again. “Maybe.”

For some reason, Harry had a feeling that he had just helped Malfoy out with one of his other problems too, though he wasn’t entirely sure what that other problem was.

oOoOoOo

Snape sat down at the Head Table watching the Hogwarts students intermingle with the students from the other schools. The Gryffindors were all jumping around excitedly, the Hufflepuffs were going out of their way to be friendly, the Ravenclaws were all being polite, and the Slytherins seemed dead set on making good impressions. Overall, it was a rather pleasing turn of events, especially after all of the excitement of seeing how they all arrived. It had been rather spectacular, everyone showing off. But the Potions Master couldn’t let the festive air distract him. No, besides watching the school, his son, and godson, now Snape had the unfortunate displeasure of being in the same proximity as Karkaroff.

The Headmaster of Durmstrang kept eyeing the Slytherin from next to Dumbledore, and it was taking all that he had not to turn and glare. Was that idiot trying to show the world that he had something to hide by looking that nervous? Honestly, Severus wasn’t sure how the man had survived this long.

Turning his attention back to his students, Snape was pleased to see that with the extra students around, Harry wasn’t by himself anymore. His son was in a mix of Durmstrang children, and more surprisingly, Draco Malfoy. His godson was sitting beside Harry talking to some of the other exchange students. That was odd. Where those two actually getting along now? But no, it had only been about two months, surely they hadn’t buried the hatchet that quickly.

“Did you see Viktor Krum there?” Flitwick said excitedly, pointing towards the Slytherin table. “He had a good season this year, don’t you think?”

Tuning out the reply, Severus did indeed spot the famous young Quidditch player sitting amongst his brood, Harry right across from him. So that’s why Draco flocked to him, he thought. Trying to make a good impression on the famous athlete.

While it made more sense that the boys were getting along because of a celebrity in their midst, it did disappoint the Potions Master all the same. Although it was foolish of him, he had hoped to see the two finally getting along…though that, again was complete and total bullocks. Putting Harry and Draco together and expecting them to get along was like putting him and James Potter in the same room; it just wasn’t going to work.

Or at least it appeared so on the outside. Thus far, neither boy had tried to kill the other, and despite their rivalry, it didn’t appear as though either boy were trying to make the other look a fool in front of their guests. That was a good sign, at least. Had it been Severus and Potter, the Head of Slytherin knew that his old enemy would have taken any chance he could to make Snape look like an idiot, and in return, Severus wouldn’t have taken it. It would have been a complete and total disaster. But then, maybe Harry and Draco were more mature that James and he had been at that age. It was a possibility due to the boys experiences in life thus far.

But when the welcoming feast had come to an end, and the students were all up and preparing for bed, getting ready for the next day of classes and the excitement about the Goblet of Fire, Snape stood, and watched rather pleased, as Harry and Draco walked off together. It didn’t look particularly companionable for either, but it was a start. The blonde had kept good on his word and didn’t let anyone touch Harry, and it seemed even now he was taking the task seriously. He was going to have to talk to his godson soon, perhaps commend him. Draco was always one that thrived on positive feedback, though how much of that he actually got now was debatable.

Just as he was leaving, however, a hand landed on his shoulder. Shrugging it off and spinning around, wand ready, though hidden, Snape found himself face to face with Karkaroff. It shouldn’t have surprised him, but seeing the other man made Severus want to groan. He didn’t want to talk to this nut, nor did he have time.

“Karkaroff,” he nodded politely.

“Snape…it’s been a while,” the other looked about nervously. “Perhaps we could talk?”

“Not now,” Severus waved off the Durmstrang Headmaster. “I have pressing matters to attend to.”

Just as he was leaving, the other man spoke again. “I heard what happened with you this summer.”

Turing back around slowly, Snape eyed the man up and down warily. “Oh?”

“Yes. I would…I would like to talk about it. Soon, if you could,” the other man was nodding to himself. “I believe you and I…have some similar issues that we could discuss.”

The other professors were filing out, moving around the two still men as they spoke, and Severus got the nasty suspicion that someone else was listening in on their conversation. He didn’t like it, any of it, even if they hadn’t said anything particularly incriminating. “I see,” he said slowly. “Perhaps tomorrow morning?” he asked. “I am rather busy this evening. We could have tea with Headmaster Dumbledore if you’d like. He…is aware and sympathetic to my plight.”

“Yes, yes of course,” Karkaroff nodded quickly. “That would be best. I will…speak with you in the morning then. Goodnight.”

Severus waited until the other man was gone before he let out a gentle sigh, rubbing his temples. Why was it that nothing seemed to be going well for him lately? Was a little peace really that much to ask? Apparently.

Stalking back down to the dungeons, Snape decided that perhaps after a day filled with grading parchments, talking to Albus, and worrying over the arrival of the other schools, perhaps it would be nice to just sit down and listen to Harry chatter away about his day. The boy needed someone to listen to him, and quite honestly, Severus needed someone to take his mind off of all of the terrible events that had been occurring recently. It was a match made in Heaven, or so Albus would think if he knew of the meeting. But the old man didn’t, and that’s just the way Severus wanted to keep it.

So, with the night coming to a close after all the excitement that had gone on, Severus retrieved Harry to allow the child to talk. It rather soothed the Potion Master’s nerves, knowing that for the moment, his son was safe and relatively happy. But as the child chatted on about how strange Draco had been acting, the older wizard knew that he would have to speak to his godson like this again soon.