"—the look on his face was…" Harry trailed off, picking at the frayed hem of the old jumper he'd nicked from Snape only that morning. He wasn't sure what to say, not feeling all that confident that he had the words to describe what the look on Snape's face had been after Harry had cheekily called him 'Dad'.

On the one hand, seeing Snape's face with his eyes wide and mouth half-open had, even for that split second, sort of been worth it. Snape being Snape, he had, of course, collected himself in no time. In an even shorter amount of time, he had been on top of the situation, making sure to do his very best to embarrass the life out of Harry. Maybe a little of Steve's, too, come to think about it.

Then again, it had been kind of nice. Snape had teased the both of them for a bit, but he hadn't really intruded on them, or forced Steve to leave, or forced Harry to stop seeing Steve, for that matter. It didn't matter that Harry and Steve had only known each other for a few hours – not that Snape had known that at the time – but Snape had, well. He'd been sort of cool about it. And he'd taken them all out to dinner.

That had been more than nice. If anything, it had almost been brilliant. Because, Harry realised as he lay in bed later that night, trying to sleep but unable to quench the grin on his face, in a way it had been Harry, his Dad, and a new mate out for a bite. Seeing as how they had been in a, ah, 'gay friendly' part of the Magical Quarter, no one had much minded when Steve slid a friendly had down Harry's arm, or when Harry grinned and stole quick kiss from Steve. Or when they held hands on the way out.

Naturally, Snape waited until he and Harry were alone before teasing him mercilessly about it.

And for an entire night, Harry'd had someone to call Dad.

It had been absolutely perfect.

Now, of course, Harry wanted nothing more than to call Snape Dad again. He was just a bit, well, apprehensive about it. It wasn't that he thought Snape would disapprove or mind it or anything. In fact, Snape had seemed to warm up to the title pretty quickly that one night in New Orleans.

Derek regarded him with an open gaze, waiting calmly for Harry. Just like he always did. Well, not always, Harry amended, but the man always knew when to push and when to lay off.

"It wasn't disgusted. His look, I mean. He looked a bit, I dunno, startled, I suppose," Harry mumbled. "He didn't really say anything 'bout it. He's sort of good at sneaking, so I guess he's good at pretending, but… D'you think it was stupid of me? To…" Harry trailed off again, this time looking straight into Derek's blue eyes, asking for words he wasn't sure he had, much less knew how to express.

"You set out in quest for a father, Harry," Derek said, voice calm and quiet, but his eyes were smiling. "You might not have been aware of the fact, but I have been. As for Professor Snape, he is a complex man, and hard to read. But he is a man of his word, and he is honourable. I think we can agree upon that much, at least."

Harry nodded. "I kept telling everyone I met that he was my Dad. I sort of didn't mean to the first time, but then…I sort of really liked saying it, so I kept on letting everyone think I was Harry Snape, the normal kid of the brilliant Potions Master. It was so much easier. And…"

"Yes?" Derek prompted, giving Harry the nudge he needed.

Harry's smile was shy and small. "He gave me so much. First it was the glasses, then letting me decorate his flat for Christmas, and buying the tickets to New Orleans, and he gave me tons of presents on Christmas, and he kept… He says he cares. That I deserve so much more than…"

"And before that he took you in," Derek filled in, when it became obvious that Harry wasn't about to complete the sentence that he had left hanging in the air.

Harry nodded, his smile a tiny bit wider. "Yeah. He…" Harry cleared his throat. "Um. We talked about, about…adoption. I'd been dropping some pretty heavy hints before we went to New Orleans. He said we could use the holiday as a test."

Derek raised an eyebrow. Harry couldn't tell if Derek was surprised, impressed, amused, or some mix between all three. "And how did that work?"

Harry snorted. "It's bloody hard doing what he says! I'm so used to making all decisions by myself, that I sort of forget that I'm supposed to have his permission if I want to go out, or have a friend over, or, um, a boyfriend spend the night. No one ever really cared about that before. If I wanted to do something, I just did it. It's…annoying.

"At the same time, it's such a bloody relief to have Snape watch my back. He looks out for me, takes care of me, and makes sure I'm fine. And then I get annoyed with myself for getting annoyed with him over who gets the final say whenever he squeezes my shoulder or gets me stupid T-shirts or, y'know, does some other, um, parental stuff."

A smirk flitted in and out of existence on Derek's face. "Make sure you communicate with each other."

Harry nodded. "He said I could argue or protest all I wanted, but in the end his word was stronger than mine."

Harry and Snape had got back from New Orleans only two days ago, and Harry still felt a little out of it because of the time difference. School would start up tomorrow, and what with everything that had happened since the start of the holiday, Harry was feeling suitably nervous. Ron and Hermione, even Fred, George and Ginny would have been told by now. They'd know they'd forgotten something by now. Tomorrow he'd be able to seek them out and talk to them, and he was feeling terrified. A part of him desperately wished that Mr and Mrs Weasley never told them, because if no one told tham, then they wouldn't know, and there would be no risk of Harry ever finding out whether or not Ron and Hermione truly cared about him, or the scar on his forehead more.

"And…"

"Yes?"

Harry cleared his throat. "I, um. I started doubting myself. I have a really hard time convincing myself I'm really worth all of this." Harry's fidgeting increased, and he twisted the material of his jumper around his fingers. "I feel like it's too much, sometimes. That it'll all come crashing down on me because I really don't deserve all this. And—"

The session that day was long, longer than usual, but Harry didn't really mind, because it helped him feel better about himself. Derek wanted him to take a small break every time he started doubting whether or not he was worth something. He would pause, close his eyes and think it over, or write it down in his journal. Then he was to replace himself, with another kid – Tom, for example – and consider again if that child deserved new clothes, care, or whatever it was Harry found himself questioning.

Because if Tom deserved it, then why didn't Harry?

—x—

Snape arrived to pick him up sometime when he was busy scratching notes into his journal. Harry had briefly shown it to Derek, and while the man had looked intrigued and pleased that Harry was using it so diligently, he hadn't actually looked close enough to read any of the words inside it, which Harry appreciated.

Harry may have been telling Derek a lot of what was going on in his mind, but that didn't mean he wanted Derek to read his thought processes, or what he had really thought of Steve's physique. Thinking of Steve brought Harry a pleasant buzz. They'd met another couple of times before it was time for Harry and Snape to go home. Lukas had joined them on some occasions, other times it had just been him and Steve. It was Steve and Lukas who had helped Harry set up a 'DropBox'. Snape, apparently, already had one – and had for years. Basically, it was a small box you placed your letters in. the box read the address on the envelope, and deposited the letter in the corresponding box. It was a quick and safe way to send letters across the world.

A small grin took place on Harry's face. Steve had been a brilliant kisser – and rather good at other practices, as well. And, Harry remarked, being with Steve had meant he wasn't as open a target for Michael as he had been before.

Of course, Snape had seen to it that Harry never really venture anywhere alone, either, after having been caught with the vampire nicking his ear, that one time.

Harry was finishing up a long rant about what, exactly, had made him feel so insecure whenever he had known that Michael was somewhere nearby back in New Orleans, when he realised that Derek was talking quietly to someone. Blinking to clear his vision, Harry was surprised to see Snape sitting in the chair across from Derek's desk. As the men looked rather comfortable, Harry realised they'd been sitting there for quite some time. Snape was wearing black jeans and a loose black long-sleeved T-shirt over a white shirt, looking as always very comfortable in the Muggle outfit. The robes hid it rather well, but Muggle clothes couldn't really do the same no matter how many sizes too large the tops Snape wore were, but fact was that Snape was a very thin man. Not dangerously thin like Harry had been last term, but not healthily thin, either.

Maybe that was why Snape had taken such measures with Harry, had gone to the lengths he had to make sure Harry started eating properly again, helped him with his diet and looked after him.

Maybe that was why Snape knew getting back on track was hard and difficult, the road littered with unavoidable setbacks. Was it because Snape had been there himself, once, struggling with food, nerves and ostracism? Unbidden, the memory of Harry's Dad came to mind, of the time Harry had watched Snape's pensive. Maybe Snape had been bullied? It left traces on you, no matter how long ago it had happened, like Harry only knew too well.

Closing his journal quietly, tucking away the biro in its spine, Harry rose and made his way over to the desk. He sat down on the arm of Snape's chair, but didn't say anything. They were discussing Tom's schoolwork, so it wasn't really a subject Harry felt he had anything to add to.

When they finally left Derek's office, it was nearing lunch. Snape led him to a nearby restaurant where they ate. Snape was finishing up his cup of coffee – to which he had added a liberal helping of milk – when he spoke up again. They had mostly been sitting in silence till that point, Harry having felt rather content going over the session head just had with Derek in his head, and Snape seemingly sharing the sentiment.

"I was wondering if perhaps a visit to the Ministry, as well as Gringotts, might not be in order," Snape murmured.

Harry blinked, startled, and looked up from his milkshake. There was only a bit of the creamy beverage left at the bottom, and he had been swirling his straw through it in mindless patterns. "What? Why?"

Snape looked away. He appeared to be rethinking what he had just said. "I need to…adjust my will, among other matters."

"Um." Harry cleared his throat. "Why?"

"It appears my living situation has changed," Snape said softly, casting a calculating look at Harry. "Has it not?"

Swallowing rather heavily, Harry chanced a hesitating smile and a jerky nod. "Yupp," he whispered, heart hammering wildly beneath his breastbone.

"It is far easier settling such matters with the goblins, without involving the Ministry," Snape went on. "The goblins are, after all, in charge of our inheritances. If I were to register you as a member of my family, they would accept it as a binding contract. In their eyes, you would be my rightful heir. In a sense, my son, even. Naturally, it does not work in reverse. I would not be able to access any of your previous inheritances, like you will have mine, were I to permit it.

"Purebloods do it, from time to time, when they find themselves without a direct heir. Instead of procreating, they locate a distant member of their family, and elevate their status by reregistering the relationship as head of the family and heir. In those cases…" Snape trailed off.

"Snape?" Harry prodded. He was by then leaning over the table, having listened to Snape's 'lecture' with much more eagerness than he ever had before. Snape might've been on him before about not having his 'priorities' straight, but Harry was perfectly aware of what was the most important.

As of right now?

Getting a dad was pretty much at the top.

Snape took a quick sip of his coffee. "Hmm, yes. In those instances, the head of the family would request a blood adoption, of sorts, to strengthen the already existing familial bond, no matter how strained and distant, between the two. Thus, the need to involve the Ministry would effectively be eliminated. Fortunately for us, purebloods are a hopelessly twisted and intermarried bunch."

"You're saying we're related?" Harry asked, frowning a bit. "You're a pureblood after all?"

Snape's grin was crooked. "Oh, no. I'm proper a half-blood. Mother, on the other hand, was a pureblood. As was your father," he said with a brief grimace.

"But, why can't we go to the Ministry?"

"I am still a Death Eater," Snape said. "While you may no longer be viewed as a celebrity, my status in their eyes has not changed. My monetary worth is not large enough for them to overlook that fact. Fortunately for us, goblins really couldn't care less."

Harry dared a smile. "So…basically, we're sneaking behind the back of the government? Why do they even let a loophole like that exist?"

"Because they are purebloods," Snape answered with a mocking tone. He touched his nose. "Cannot seem to look past their upturned noses, can they?"

Unable to help himself, Harry burst out laughing. Draining the last of his coffee, Snape favoured Harry with a smirk. "Ready to go, then?"

"Now?" Harry blurted, his eyes suddenly very wide.

Snape's eyebrows went up a little. "Unless you have changed your mind?" he drawled, tone dry.

Harry sputtered. "No! I—No! Never!"

The minute tenseness that had existed in Snape's shoulder's abruptly disappeared. Harry realised that Snape was just as nervous about this as he was – just as afraid of abandonment, of being left outside in the cold, being turned down, away, because he just wasn't 'good enough. It sent a shiver down' Harry's spine.

Snape wanted this just as much as Harry did. The thought took hold in him, and swelled, until Harry was sure he was grinning like a fool.

—x—

The visit to Gringotts turned out to be rather short, considering what they were going to do. But then again, Harry considered, the goblins didn't really like wizards, so it wasn't all that strange that they wanted their wizard customers to leave the bank as quickly as possible, was it?

It was Snape who had stated their business, with Harry trailing behind him hidden beneath his invisibility cloak. As it turned out, while the cloak kept him hidden from wizards, it didn't do much in the way of keeping him out of sight from the goblins. Then again, Snape had probably known as much, because he'd mentioned both their names when he stated their business to the goblin sitting behind the desk.

Yes, Harry had been rather surprised when Snape fished it up from the back pocket of his jeans. Mainly because Harry hadn't known that Snape knew about it, much less where Harry actually kept it. Suspected, yes, but never really known for certain. He had been rather indignant about it – Snape going through his stuff, that was – until Snape had pointed out that since Harry kept his belongings abysmally unguarded, all that had been required on Snape's part had been a standard Accio.

After being led to a small room of the side, accompanied by two rather angry looking goblins with wicked looking daggers strapped to their backs – Snape had quickly informed Harry that they were guards, but had been rather vague in pointing out exactly what they were guarding – Harry finally pulled off his cloak and took the available seat next to Snape.

So while Snape fixed up his will, Harry sat back and studied the murals on the walls. The depicted a great battle, that much Harry could tell, but he wasn't sure if the battle was against, or with, the huge, dragon-like people. They were scaly, like dragons, but walked mostly on two legs and had huge wings. Their ears were pointed and curved, almost like the fantasy-elves in the books Harry had read as a kid, and their fingers were curved with wicked sharp talons. In some of the murals, the goblins appeared to be fighting them, but in others they stood side by side, fighting creatures Harry suspected were humans. The humans looked fierce, savage and monstrous. They were drenched in blood. In some depictions, the appeared to be eating children, in others they were worshiping a goddess Harry had never seen before and, discounting the fact that the woman was naked and, well, a woman, Harry thought she kind of looked like the devil, only with six arms and four breasts.

Harry wondered if maybe that was how goblins still perceived humans, and why the goblins appeared to detest wizards so.

"Ow!" Harry hissed, dragging his eyes from the walls to Snape. He swatted away the pinching fingers, then rubbed the sore spot on his thigh, sending Snape a sulky glare in the process.

"Pay attention," Snape reprimanded him.

Harry dared a pout, a mere hint of his bottom lip protruding a tiny bit too much. He had been paying attention, just not to Snape as much as he had to the walls. "Sorry," he muttered.

"You want to add the boy to your family register?"

"Yes," Snape answered, his tone as short and clipped as the goblin's.

"Relation?"

"Unknown."

The goblin scowled. Harry sort of wished he had been paying attention, because he had no idea what the goblin's name was. Snape continued as if he hadn't noticed the goblin's sudden drop in temperament. "There is a lineage book in the Prince vault. There should be one in the Potter's as well."

"Um, no, there's just money in my vault," Harry put in.

"That's a trust vault," the goblin snapped. "Money is transferred to it on an annual basis from the main vault. Access to the main vault is claimed on your twenty-first birthday, as per the conditions of the inheritance laws set forth by your ancestors. Varghall!" the goblins snapped, prompting one of the guards to step forward. What followed was a long barked stream of gobbledegook.

In no time at all a legal document of some kind was slammed down on the desk in front of Harry that Snape just as quickly snatched up to read through, much to the irritation of the disgruntled goblins. "What is it?" Harry wondered.

"A requisition," Snape absentmindedly answered, then after a short pause he added, "You may sign it."

"Thanks," Harry said and snatched the piece of parchment out of Snape's hands. He was handed a quill by one of the goblins. The document was signed shortly after that. The goblins were quick to grab it. The guard Varghall disappeared with it clenched in a fist.

While they waited, the other guard placed a bowl with some dried twigs – well, the looked like twigs – in it on the desk in front of Harry, along with a vial Harry suspected contained mercury, as wells as a long, shiny, sharpdagger.

"Master Snape, you know what to do?"

Snape nodded. "Yes." Then he turned to Harry, who was still staring at the gleaming dagger. "Harry. Look at me."

Wide-eyed, Harry stared at Snape.

"We will hold hands. The dagger will be held between our palms. Tinkkap will then twist the dagger and pull it out."

"You could've said he was gonna slice my hand open!" Harry hissed, eyes narrowed. "I don't like sharp things, Snape! They hurt, and—"

"It's the only way." Snape cleared his throat. "Now, after that he will pour the Essence of Aether—"

"—it looks like mercury," Harry protested. "That's poisonous."

Snape's left eyebrow twitched. "It is. Thankfully, Essence of Aether is not mercury. Now, as I said, Tinkkap will pour the liquid over our hands. Mixed with the blood it will drop down over the bowl. When it comes in contact with the dried herbs, a mist will be created. Combined with the other two elements, it will prompt the magic inherent to all wizards to act and bind us together."

"As family."

"Yes."

Harry was frowning. "Are you sure about this? It's just, is all seems a little, um, bogus?"

Snape's eyes glittered. "I assure you, it will work. The technique is ancient and powerful. Banned under Ministry law, of course, but they turn a blind eye because, as you very well now, the Ministry…?"

"Are all a bunch of hypocritical purebloods," Harry dutifully filled in.

"Precisely." Snape turned serious again. Well, Harry amended, more serious. Outside of his home, Snape was always serious. "I know we have not discussed this, but do you want to change your name or keep it?"

The question threw Harry and for long moments he didn't really know what to say. On the one hand, he loved his name.

Harry James Potter.

It was who he was; who he had always been. But at the same time, it was just a name. He didn't remember ever being anyone else. It was the name his parents had chosen for him. His parents who, save for a few photographs and a memory brought forth by dementors, would always remain faceless entities in stories told by strangers, friends and enemies. He didn't know the sound of their voices, the smell of their skin or the touch of their hands.

Harry had never heard his Mum laugh or his Dad shout. He had never seen them smile at him, or felt them hug him. Because they had sacrificed themselves so that Harry might live.

He just didn't know.

But Harry did know one thing with almost frightening certainty: he was more than a name, more than a title on a piece of paper. He was a person, complete with everything that meant.

"Did you want to add something to my name, maybe?" Harry asked. "'Cause, it's not that I mind or anything, I just kinda like being Harry."

Snape's lips twitched into something that might have been called a smile. "I'm sure. I have always been preferential towards Alexander."

Harry smiled a little. "It's a good name."

"But I was thinking more along the lines of your surname when I posed the question, Harry."

"Oh." Harry's eyes went a little wide at that. "Oh."

Did he want to be Harry James Snape, instead of Potter? It was just, his name was really the last thing he had left that his parents had given him. "Can't I have both? You know? Then I could just take whatever name I want to when I feel like it, maybe?"

Harry James Alexander Potter Snape.

"I know I kept telling everyone in New Orleans that I was Harry Snape, and I liked being Harry Snape. They still think I am. But my name is the last thing I have of my parents, too, at the same time, y'know?" Harry mumbled. "Is it selfish of me to want both? To be your kid as well as theirs?"

"No, I would not say it is selfish, boy," Snape replied, rather calmly. But he looked amused, too, if the glint in his eyes were anything to go by.

"Done?" Tinkkap's gruff voice interrupted with a sharp bark as he slammed two thick tomes down on the table.

"Apparently," Snape said, voice dry as sand.

"Good." Tinkapp then opened both books on the very last pages. From where Harry was sitting he could make out a detailed family tree upside-down.

Not looking away from the ceremonial dagger than had appeared on the desk long before the books, Snape spoke up. "If we are indeed related I would wager it is through a Black."

"Oh? Really?" Harry asked, leaning forward as he tried to get a better glimpse at the books, but Snape hauled him back with a quick tug at the back of his collar. Looking at the man, he received a stern headshake in the negative. "Snape?"

Snape ignored the half asked question in favour of the first half asked question. "The Blacks' obsession with blood purity was only slightly more diminished than the Princes' quest for the same."

"But you're a half-blood," Harry stated, coming off rather inane about it even to his own ears, much to his disgust.

"Precisely. I am also the last of the line, thus I cannot be disowned." Snape was smirking, looking rather pleased by that fact, if in a slightly disturbed way. "Mother's parents had heart attacks when they found out their only child had run off with a Muggle, or so I have been told."

"Dorea Black married into the Potter family 1938," Tinkkap stated. "Elladora Prince nee Hitchens married Constantine Prince 1889. Relationship is proved through the maternal line. The boy is eligible for use in the family registration act."

"So…he can adopt me, right?" Harry asked at once.

The gobbling rewarded him with a surly glare for his troubles. "That is what I just said. Clasp hands!"

Too startled to even think of disobeying, Harry was holding Snape's hand almost before the goblin had ordered him to do it. Snape rolled his eyes, but it didn't take any prompting at all on Harry's aide for the man to grip his hand as tightly as was required once Tinkkap had placed the dagger between their palms. Harry wanted to ask if there wasn't more to it than this, but before he could voice his questions, Tinkkap had grabbed Snape's and his joined hands, positioned them above the bowl, quickly twisted the knife and pulled it out. The Essence of whatever-it-was had been upended, and if Harry thought his palm had been stinging before, it was nothing against the pain that suddenly exploded in his hand as first the silvery liquid hit his wound, then the smoke from the now sizzling and hissing herbs in the bowl beneath Harry's and Snape's blood dripping hands.

"There. Done," Tinkkap declared. It had all been done in a matter of seconds. "Don't move."

Harry hissed and reflexively tried to pull away, but Snape's grip was hard as stone, and just about as movable as a boulder.

"Sorry," Harry gasped. "No one said anything about excruciating fucking pain!" he hissed.

"Do you want me to wash your mouth out?" Snape demanded.

Eyes narrowed, Harry shook his head. "Still bl— really hurts, though," he mumbled under his breath, quickly changing his mind about testing Snape when it came to swearing at the warning glare he received midsentence through.

"When the smoke abates you can pull your hand away," Snape informed him. "I am sure I can find a suitable plaster for you when we are done. Perhaps with a bunny motive?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I swear, Snape, one day I'm gonna get my revenge."

Snape merely smirked and didn't respond.

It was over very soon after that. Snape cleaned their bloody hands up with a flick of his wand, then wrapped clean bandages around first Harry's hand, then his own, ignoring Harry's attempt to help. While doing this, Snape informed Tinkkap of how they wished Harry's name to be altered, and as soon as that was done, the dour goblin finally appeared pleased.

"All unaccounted keys to the Potter trust vault are henceforth incompatible with the new addition of wards. Withdrawals surpassing the amount of one hundred galleons need to be approved by the family head, or else be annulled. Mr Snape, your access to the trust vault is now restricted."

With a start Harry realised the goblin had referred to him with Snape's name. It felt…weird, good, but weird. Then he registered what Tinkkap had just said. "Hey! What?"

"As a minor your keepers are in charge of your monetary assets. Master Snape cannot access them, but he is now responsible for you, therefore it is up to him to decide when you access your vault. We are done," Tinkkap concluded and rose from his chair. Within moments he was gone.

—x—

"I…don't like it," Harry told Snape the second they were back in the flat at Hogwarts.

"Me being responsible for you?"

Harry nodded. "Before Hogwarts, I had nothing. I was…nothing. My relatives saw to that. Then, when I turned eleven, I was a wizard. Hagrid gave me the key to my fault, and for the first time in my life I could make sure I wasn't hungry, or cold, or…" Harry trailed off. "But. And, I mean, I know you're nothing like them, but I don't like feeling…feeling like I'm depending on you for everything. I don't like feeling like I'm… I felt safe, knowing that if something bad happened, or I got thrown out, or lost, or was just hungry, I could somehow fix everything—"

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying you used your Gringotts key as a security blanket?"

Harry blinked. He had to clear his throat several times, because, he realised abruptly, that was exactly what he had done. "How fucked up is that, huh?"

"Indeed," Snape just said.

Then he placed a hand on the back of Harry's neck and directed the teenager to sit on one of the chairs in the kitchen. "I have warned you numerous times, boy." Snape opened one of the cupboards and located a jar filled with aqua blue slivers and flakes. He pulled out one of them with a pair of pincers, then approached Harry with it held out.

"What?" Harry wondered, frowning a little. "I didn't—oh, fuck!" Harry's eyes widened in realisation. Now he got what Snape had meant by warning him several times, as well as had a horrible realisation of that he knew,exactly, what that blue thing Snape was holding with his pincers was. "I mean, no, I didn't mean—"

Deftly and skilfully like the Potions Master he was, Snape deposited a sliver of something in Harry's open mouth without pause or hesitation, then he tugged the sputtering mouth closed with a finger. "Two minutes. Do not swallow."

Harry's glare was teary, indignant and just a smidgen ashamed. His cheeks flushed a light shade of red the longer he sat there with the disgusting piece of soap in his mouth and fought not to gag.

"You will not use such language again, will you?" Snape enquired silkily.

Harry hurriedly shook his head, his eyes desperately begging Snape for relief.

"One more minute," was all Snape had to say.

Harry whimpered.