Before they knew it, the annual Slytherin vs. Gryffindor Quidditch match was upon them. It felt as if it had just been yesterday when they shared a family moment by spitting out the disgusting fudge they had made together. However, it had been almost a month since that day. And for once, it was a month that had passed by without a shred of incidence.

Walking into his adoptive son's room, Snape glanced towards the messy-haired young man sitting on the edge of the bed. He held up a hand instantly when Harry attempted to speak. He needed to inform the young man without any unnecessary interruptions.

"I've just spoken with Aurora's father." He watched Harry nod in understand. "He has expressed the wish of attending your match today, if you allow it."

"He wants to come watch me?" Harry said in confusion. "Why?"

"It is my understanding that he hopes to meet the both of us in person." He then sighed. "He and I also have some business to attend to, which his being here would make things easier."

"You mean asking him if he'd mind if you married his daughter."

"Among other things, yes," Snape concurred. He then watched Harry wring his hands together nervously. Frowning, he reached across and gently placed his hands atop of the young man's. "There is no reason to be uneasy, Harry."

"What am I supposed to call him, Snape?"

"From my conversations with the man so far, I'm certain that he will not take offense to anything you call him." When Harry's green eyes narrowed, he explained. "Aurora's father appears to be rather laid back when it comes to expressing the necessary respect."

"What do you call him?"

"Mr. Sinistra," Snape answered before his frown then deepened. "However, he always corrects me and tells me to use his first name."

"Oh," Harry replied, nodding slowly. "Does he seem, well, nice?"

"He's obviously not murdered me in my sleep yet if that gives you a hint to his temperament."

"Does that happen?"

"It's rare nowadays, but just forty years ago many wizards in my predicament found themselves at the receiving end of numerous curses from their witches' fathers. Though, the same rang partially true about Muggles." Snape then chuckled softly before locking eyes with Harry. "Lily's father was that way. In fact, I found myself on numerous ends of lectures for being as he deemed it 'improper' with your mother."

"What'd you do that made him upset?" asked the fifteen-year-old Gryffindor.

"He found me once in your mother's room without anyone around." Snape then sighed. "Though, if the man had any sense at all, he should have been more concerned about Dursley and Petunia being alone together rather than your mother and me."

"Ugh," Harry said, screwing his face up in disgust. "I so didn't need to hear that, Snape." The young man then sighed. "Can I ask you a question?" He waited for a moment but didn't receive an answer from the older wizard. "Fine, I'll shut up."

"Ask your question, Harry," Snape gently said with a sigh.

"Well, it's just that I'm your adoptive son now." Harry then wrung his hands even more as he chewed on his bottom lip. "So I'm wondering if you—well, most parents you know cheer their kids on during sporting events—"

"You're wondering if I, the Head of Slytherin, will choose you over my House."

"Yeah," Harry replied, nodding slowly before glancing up with a hopeful look.

"I must cheer for Slytherin, Harry," Snape said calmly. He watched the young man's face fall instantly. "However, know that in my heart I am rooting for Gryffindor."

"But I don't understand." Green eyes met obsidian. "I mean, you've been treating us better, fairer this year. Why can't you be like the other parents and root for me in the stands?" Disappointment was in every ounce of the young man's posture.

"Unfortunately, Slytherin requires someone to be on their side, rooting for them, Harry." Snape then sighed when he saw the rejected look on Harry's face. "Some fathers attend every one of their children's matches. However, if their child loses a game, then some fathers will take it upon themselves to teach their child a lesson to ensure that the child does not embarrass the family name anymore. More often than not, Harry, it is a child from Slytherin that finds himself in that predicament."

"Oh," Harry replied crestfallenly. "So then you're sort of like their protector—the students who find themselves in that, I mean, Snape?"

"Something like that, yes," Snape replied quietly before frowning slightly. "Most of my Slytherins saw me being scolded by the Headmaster at the start of the year for something, which they've taken to mean as him telling me to be kinder to the other Houses. They do not think of my change as me actually altering my behavior but instead believe it to be the result of the Headmaster's scolding. They also believe that my adopting you is because of the Headmaster's meddling." He then drew in a slow breath. It was crucial to get this point across to the fifteen-year-old. "It is important for Slytherin to have a Head of House on their side, Harry. Too many times, they are cast aside by the other professors and told that they are at fault when they are not. These thoughts of prejudice and assumptions of evilness in them has made a self-fulfilling prophecy in my House for so long that it has become an engrained behavior, an expectation you could say, that all Slytherins, first through seventh, experience at one time or another. So I must unfortunately maintain the mistaken illusion that I do not favor you or anyone else but them. They must have someone on their side so that they do not fall into the shadows and lose their way as I and many others of my House have."

"And you have to support them like you do with me because some of them come from rough families. That's what you meant earlier by saying that some fathers punish their children for disgracing the family name by losing, right?"

"Yes, unfortunately," Snape replied, nodding slowly.

"Draco is one of them, isn't he?" Harry then hung his head and sighed. "Lucius was in the graveyard that night." He knew he didn't need to specify what night he was referring to. "So I figure that he wanted Malfoy to follow in his footsteps and carry on the family name. Only Malfoy doesn't seem to be a killer, though. I mean, he's had half-dozen chances to kill me during Quidditch, and he knows loads more spells than I do, but he hasn't so far. Don't get me wrong. He's been a right git, but I don't think he's a killer. And I'd guess he doesn't share Lucius's views."

"You are correct. Mr. Malfoy does not share his father's views."

"Because of you, right?" asked the young man, slowly raising his head up to glance at Snape.

"I like to think so, yes," Snape agreed.

Harry glanced at his trainers and sighed again. He had wanted to ask the following question for a long time, but he hadn't for some reason or another. Frowning, he swung his legs back and forth. Sure, Snape had adopted him, but they still weren't at the Dad/son stage and probably wouldn't be either.

"What is it, Harry?"

"You and Draco are sort of chummy it seems, closer than you are with the other Slytherins."

"Ah," Snape replied with a relaxed look. "You're wondering what my relationship with Mr. Malfoy is, aren't you?" He didn't wait for the young man's nod. "He's my godson, Harry."

"Oh," the young Gryffindor replied softly.

"However, as you likely have noticed, Mr. Malfoy has kept his distance lately with me."

"Isn't that odd, though?"

"No. He understands that you and I need time together to work out our numerous issues with one another." Snape's dark eyes then narrowed on the Gryffindor. "If you are concerned that Mr. Malfoy—"

"I'm not," Harry instantly replied. "It's all about appearances, right? I mean, Draco distancing himself from you and me, well, that distance is sort of maintaining his control over the other Slytherins. As long as the others don't think he's being influenced by either of us, then he can keep the peace so to speak." He then shrugged. "It's sort of like politics, I suppose. I mean, say there is this leader who has been in power for years. One day, people start to riot for no apparent reason it seems. Though, there's this other country—an ally for years—that tries to distance itself from the leader and sits on the sidelines, waiting. This other country isn't sure if keeping the peace is worth them becoming involved so it waits some more."

"I was not aware politics interested you," Snape said with an amused look.

"It doesn't, but it shows us our past and future, though," Harry responded.

"Ah, that it does."

In the distance, Slytherin's portrait opened and closed followed by soft footfalls. It was not long before a four-month pregnant witch stood in Harry's doorway with her hands on her hips, glancing at the two wizards. Her dark eyes roamed over the both of them before she softly laughed.

"You do realize you have an hour before your match," she gently reminded Harry.

"Yeah, I know," he said. "I'll get ready soon."

"So, what are we talking about?" she asked, glancing at Snape.

"Your father wishes to attend and watch him play."

"But not my mother, correct?" she replied quietly.

"I am under the impression that she wishes to remain at Windsor."

"Excellent," Sinistra said with a satisfied smile. "Well, if you'll both forgive me, I do believe I'm going to go change." She then gave them a look. "I expect you two to do the same." Slowly, she turned and walked further down the corridor towards the master bedroom.

"We should probably do that," Harry said with a sigh.

"Not feeling brave today, are you? Hmm, maybe I should have Aurora increase my bet with Minerva," joked the older wizard.

"Oh, ha-ha, Snape," the young man replied moodily. He then sighed. "I just don't want to be on the receiving end of another mood swing." He said nothing when Snape rose to stand and gently rested a hand on his shoulder. Instead, Harry quietly dressed in his Quidditch outfit after Snape left the room.

"Are you feeling well today, Aurora?" Snape asked, walking into the master bedroom.

"I feel fine, Severus. Why?" she replied, glancing at him as she reached for her thick robes.

"You were gone for two hours for a walk that should have taken you at least a half-hour at most," he quietly pointed out.

"Oh," she said with a soft laugh. She clearly seemed embarrassed as she ran a hand through her thick, curly dark hair. "I ran into Minerva on my way to the tower, and she was afraid that I'd harm either myself or the babies so she stopped me and sent Septima instead." She then rolled her eyes as she thought of something. "Sometimes, I seriously think those witches think that I'm accident prone or something." Shaking her head, she sighed. "I unfortunately ended up talking to Minerva and, well, time seemed to get away from me. I apologize for worrying you."

"You did not 'worry' me," he argued.

"Uh-huh," she said with a soft laugh. She then rested a hand against her abdomen, sighing with a content smile. "You know, you can barely tell that I'm pregnant with twins."

"For now," he gently reminded. "Madam Pomfrey informed us that by next month it should be fairly obvious." He quietly cleared his throat when she rolled her eyes with a laugh.

"Yes, I know. By next month, I should have a noticeable baby bump—or is it babies bumps?" She then gently brushed her lips against his before turning away to grab her long silver wand from the nightstand. When she turned back, her good mood had vanished. "Tell me you aren't wearing that."

He glanced down at his outfit before he looked back at her. What were wrong with his clothes? It was just a black turtleneck and black slacks with his familiar black boots. It was what he always wore to the annual Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch match.

"Is there something wrong with wearing black?" he asked quietly.

"You are the Head of Slytherin, Severus."

He withheld his scoff instantly. She was upset because he wasn't wearing Slytherin colors? He had assumed she'd be upset if he did because of Harry. Her mood swings clearly were wreaking havoc. Drawing in a slow breath, he attempted to be as steady as he could be with his answer.

"I typically wear this to the first match of the year."

"And do you typically adopt the Gryffindor seeker also, Severus?" she harshly snapped.

"I do not understand." He watched her for a moment, taking in her anger before it rapidly vanished yet again. He then sighed softly as he caught her remorseful look. Another mood swing come and gone. At least she was not sobbing this time. He could not deal with a witch crying. He never could.

"I apologize, Severus," she said softly, wrapping her arms around herself. "I didn't mean that."

He wisely remained quiet. After all, telling a pregnant woman that it was just the hormones would only lead to more trouble. He wordlessly placed his hands behind his back and held her gaze, however, before he inclined his head respectfully.

"Please, Severus, say something."

"Would you object if I brought you a glass of water to drink?" he quietly asked. He noticed her frown, but remained steadfast. After all, he knew, just as well as she did, that she needed to stay properly hydrated as her body adjusted to the extra strain on it by the pregnancy.

"Say something else," she replied with a sigh.

"I love you." He watched her face light up before she nodded slowly.

"I know that I'm being downright horrible, but please, Severus," she said, staring at him.

"What is it that you wish, Aurora?" he responded quietly.

"It's probably the hormones, but every now and then we act like a family—like we've been one for years, not months." She then sighed, racking her teeth against her bottom lip. "You adopted Harry, an action that has tied you and him together forever now. And in the eyes of the law, he is your heir—your son," she stated, staring at him.

"Yes," he simply replied.

"I understand the need to ensure that Slytherins don't feel abandoned by you. But Harry needs you, too. He needs to know that there is someone in the stands that is cheering him on who isn't just some random adult. He needs to know that you are serious about this adoption—about him." She then sighed, closing her eyes and turning away from him. "There are three former Slytherins in this castle. One neglected his duties, favoring select students that he believed had potential while ignoring the rest. Another attempted her best with embracing her students no matter what vileness they had been accused of doing so that they'd know they were always loved. And the last Slytherin, the best of them all, aspired to save them all from themselves to the point where he has forgotten to live himself. This 'Watchful Guardian' believes that if he shows just a bit of himself to others than he'll lose them all." She then drew in a breath. "But he is wrong. He won't lose them at all because they know his heart is true."

~PS~

Two hours later, Snape sat on the hard bench in the stands, watching Slytherin destroy poor Gryffindor. Beside him sat Aurora who looked on with a pained expression as she watched Crabbe direct another Bludger at yet another poor defenseless Gryffindor. Their fingers were laced together underneath the excess of his wool robes, shielded from others' eyes.

Shaking his head, he grit his teeth as his fingers dug painfully into his right knee. For no apparent reason, the Slytherin team was playing dirtier than they had ever played before. His dark eyes quickly found the blond seeker weaving in and out of various places in an attempt to find the snitch. From his vantage point, though, Draco seemed to be the only one who wasn't playing dirty for once.

"Why isn't Hooch doing anything about those flagrant fouls?" grumbled someone behind him. "They're cheating. It's so obvious."

"Well, they are Slytherins," another person drawled.

Snape thought about whirling around and giving the person a piece of his mind, but decided against it. That wouldn't have done any good anyway. He knew that. So, clenching his jaw even tighter, he sat there, glaring at his players.

"HEY!" yelled a voice that strangely enough sounded like Draco.

Narrowing his eyes on the blond, he noticed Draco yelling towards the two Slytherin Beaters about something. It was likely about how close the two came to hitting a Bludger his way by accident. At least Snape hoped it was an accident. He then watched the Beaters zoom off in the opposite direction.

"What's going on with them, Severus?" Aurora asked quietly.

"I haven't got a clue," he grumbled, glaring at the retreating Beaters. He then shook his head and forced himself to relax a moment later. If those idiots wanted to disgrace Slytherin by playing like that, then he'd disgrace them right back. "May I borrow your scarf, Aurora?"

"Why?" She gave him a questioning look for a moment before she sighed and quietly unraveled her green-and-silver scarf.

"Your other scarf," he quietly said, locking eyes with her.

"But it's—"

"I know," he replied, holding his free hand out to her. When the soft material brushed against his fingers, he inclined his head before quickly wrapping the red-and-gold scarf around his neck. He then removed his outer wool robes, exposing their handholding. Without a word, he charmed the inside of his cloak from black to crimson. Within seconds, he heard the collective gasps all around him, but made no motion that their idiocy bothered him in the slightest. He then felt Aurora gently squeeze his hand, which made him glance towards her. When she gently kissed his cheek a second later, he turned back to watch the match with a faint smirk.

"You look truly magnificent, Severus."

"Which you always say," he quickly pointed out.

"Yes, and I always mean it, too."

They then watched the match in silence for a few minutes. Both clapped respectfully with a slight more enthusiasm for Gryffindor when they scored. However, their cheering was barely noticeable to anyone else. After all, once Snape had donned on the Gryffindor scarf and cloak, everything was thrown out the window (which seemed to be the same for Slytherin).

As if in a horror film, a Bludger seemingly appearing out of nowhere zoomed straight for the unsuspecting Gryffindor Seeker, who nearly had the Golden Snitch in hand. The crowd instantly jumped to their feet with silent warnings on their tongues. And only when the blond Seeker suddenly darted in front of his Gryffindor counterpart did they scream in horror.

Snape quickly rushed to the stairs to reach his godson, who lay on the pitch unmoving. That was not an accident! Those two idiots were clearly aiming for Harry! He was so infuriated that he barely noticed that he was taking the steps two at a time with his four-month pregnant fiancée behind him.

"Draco," he quietly said, reaching the boy after what seemed a lifetime. He received a harsh rasp from the blond, but nothing else. He then stepped back as Madam Pomfrey appeared. His eyes instantly narrowed as he caught the two Beaters sneering at Harry. "Crabbe, Goyle, my office NOW!" he roared, shaking in pure fury.