"Attention, everyone," Professor Dumbledore stood up, gaining everyone’s attention in the Great Hall.

It was the last night before the holiday break, and everyone was excited. They did, however, settle down as the older wizard stood up to speak.

"Ah, how time flies," the Headmaster said, sighing wistfully. "It’s seems as if this first term as gone by in a blink…but, of course, that may because I am so old and tend to nod off, eh?"

This got more than few chuckles, even from the professors.

"Before all of you who shall be going home for the holidays leave in the morning," Professor Dumbledore continued, "I would like to wish each and every one of you a safe and very happy Christmas. Also, I would like to introduce a new addition to our teaching staff: Mr. Tobias Snape."

Everyone gasped, as a tall, thin man stood up. He had graying blonde hair, but his face was almost identical to…

"Did he say Snape?" Harry asked Ron, wide-eyed.

"Y-Yeah, he did," Ron said, swallowing.

"Hullo all," the man spoke, his voice husky and deep, with a large smile. "It will be a pleasure getting to know all of you."

"Professor Snape, who will be teaching Muggle Studies once the new term begins, is unique to Hogwarts for two reasons," Professor Dumbeldore said, his eyes twinkling merrily. "The first is that he is a Muggle…"

A loud gasp followed this, as well as several hushed whispers and looks of disgust (those mostly from the Slyterin table, of course).

"And secondly," the Headmaster went on, "he is the father of one of our former students and our resident Potions Master: Professor Severus Snape."

"Bloody ‘ell, ‘Arry," Ron exclaimed, glancing at him. "Snape has a dad!"

Hermione snorted at that, sending him a withering look.

"Well, of course he has!" she exclaimed, shaking her head in disgust. "What? Did you think he just popped out of an egg fully grown?"

Ron scowled at her. "No, but I was expectin’ his dad to be…well, not human!" he told her, turning red.

Harry swallowed, glancing up at the new teacher. If he’s Snape’s dad, he thought to himself, then that means…he’s my grandfather!

"I trust you shall all endeavor to make him feel very welcomed," Dumbledore concluded. "Now then, dessert!"

He clapped his hands and then sat back down, as did the new professor. Moments later, heaps of cakes, pies, and puddings appeared on the tables.

Harry scanned the staff table, but saw no sign of Professor Snape—the younger one—anywhere.

I wonder why he isn’t here to welcome his dad, Harry thought to himself.

He then remembered what the Professor had told him and Draco that day.

How his dad had been a drunkard, gotten into an accident, and inadvertently killed his mother in the process.

Harry studied the man who had sired his father, carefully. Other than the hair, they looked a great deal alike. Except…

Tobias actually smiled at us, Harry realized. It’s funny…he doesn’t look like a mean drunk to me.

The older Snape turned and a brief moment their eyes met—green and black—and he smiled.

It was a knowing sort of smile, too. Does he know? Harry wondered. About me being his grandson?

"Now there are two of them," Ron grumbled, sourly. "Snape probably recruited his dad to help him pull off his Dark mission."

"Oh, Ron, really," Hermione said, sighing. "Weren’t you listening at all? Mr. Snape is a Muggle! Which means Professor Snape is a half-blood…that surprises me."

"Why?" Harry asked her, curiously.

"Because he’s a Slytherin," she told him. "Almost all of them are purebloods."

I was almost put in Slytherin! Harry really felt like screaming at them.

And he was a half-blood, technically, since his father was one and his mother was Muggleborn.

"And as for this ‘Dark’ mission," Hermione went on, rolling her eyes. "How could a Muggle possibly help to steal whatever Fluffy’s guarding? I mean, we barely managed to make it away from him alive, remember?"

Ron sniffed.

"I still say he’s up to no good," he told him. "He’s a Snape, after all. The professor had to learn how to be mean and nasty from someone, right? ‘Course, he was probably just born that way—being Slytherin and all—but still..."

Harry gritted his teeth and tightened his jaw.

He knew they didn’t understand, that they didn’t know, and all they ever saw was how his father acted towards them in class…

Maybe I can convince him to let up a little, Harry thought. I mean, I know potions are dangerous and he has to be strict to keep anything from exploding but…maybe he could yell at Neville a little bit less or something.

Pushing his plate away, he started to get up.

"Where are you going, ‘Arry?" Ron asked him, puzzled. "You haven’t even touched your pudding!"

"I, um, I forgot something down in the dungeons," Harry told him. "I want to get it before Malfoy and his cronies find it…"

"Go on, Harry," Hermione told him, "but remember you two will still have to search for information about Flamel while I’m away…"

"And you could ask your parents," Ron told her. "I’m sure they might know—as they’re bound to know even more than you do."

"Oh, certainly, I’m sure they’d be a big help," Hermione told him, rolling her eyes. "If they weren’t dentists, that is!"

Harry grinned and hurried from the Hall. It seemed all Ron and Hermione ever did was bicker, but that was okay.

When they were arguing with each other, they weren’t ganging up on him to convince him his own father was plotting to murder him!

‘Course, he thought as he made his way to the dungeons, they don’t know he’s my father.

Reaching his father’s quarters, which were directly across the hall from his classroom, he bit his lip.

What if he didn’t want to see him? Would he yell at him for disturbing him? Maybe he wasn’t feeling well or something…

Oh, c’mon, Potter, he growled silently to himself, show some of that courage Gryffindors are legendary for!

Steeling himself, he reached up and knocked. A few moments later, Snape opened the door.

He wasn’t wearing his teaching robes, nor the usual white dress shirt and black slacks he wore under them, but was instead wearing a faded green jumper and (shockingly) a pair of faded blue jeans.

His feet were bare, as well, and his hair was pulled back.

"Harry?" he frowned at him. "Why aren’t you in the Hall at the feast?"

"How come you didn’t tell me your dad was coming here to teach?" Harry asked him, curiously. "How come you weren’t up there when Professor Dumbledore introduced him?"

Snape frowned, but the sighed. "Come in, then," he told him, stepping back from the doorway.

Harry walked through the door, going and sitting down in the second armchair beside the fire.

Snape closed the door and then came and joined him, sitting opposite him in the other armchair.

The two stared at each other a moment, but then…

"The reason I did not inform you that he was coming," Snape told him, "is because I did not know it myself until a few days ago when the Headmaster informed me he had hired him."

"Oh," Harry said, quietly. "So, how come you weren’t at the feast tonight?"

"I, well, I did not wish to be there," Snape told him, honestly. "My father and I…do not get own. In fact, I have not actually spoken to him in twenty years. The other day was the first time either one of us has seen the other since I was fifteen years old."

"I remembered what you said," Harry told him. "About him drinking a lot and being mean…but he seemed really nice up in the Hall. He even smiled at us."

"How many of your fellow Gryffindors fainted into a dead heap at that?" the Potions Master asked him, smirking.

"Ha, ha," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Everybody was shocked—‘cuz he’s a Muggle and he’s your dad—but nobody died or anything like that from it."

"Well, we can’t have everything," Snape joked, smirking. 

Harry continued to look at him, pleadingly.

"I have been told he has changed a great deal since the last time I saw him—which was at my mother’s funeral," Snape told him. "He apparently ‘reformed’ while in prison and went to university after getting out to earn a couple of degrees. We shall see how the third years and up respond to him in Muggle Studies, hmm…"

Harry bit his lip, wondering if he should ask him something or not. "Uh, Sir?" he said, hesitantly.

"Yes, Harry," Snape said, glancing at him questioning.

"Draco told me he was going to be staying with you over the holidays," Harry said, quietly.

"Did he?" Snape asked, seemingly unsurprised by this. "Well, yes, seeing as how he was the only Slytherin staying I did not feel it appropriate for him to remain in his dorm alone. His is my nephew, after all."

"Yeah, I know," Harry said, quietly. "I was just wondering why…well, why…"

"Why I did not ask you?" Snape asked him, quietly. Biting his lip and glancing down at the floor, Harry nodded.

Snape sighed. "Come here," he ordered, firmly. Swallowing, Harry did so and felt a hand reach out and lift his chin.

"Harry," Snape told him, firmly, "I did not ask you because you are not the only Gryffindor staying. You shall have plenty of company up in the Tower, especially with the Weasleys…and also because it would have looked odd to everyone. No one has been made aware yet of our relationship, have they?"

Harry shook his head. "No, not even Ron and Hermione," he told him, "b-but I do want to tell them…after the holidays."

"And that is perfectly understandable," the Potions Master told him, "and acceptable. You need someone other than myself or your mother to discuss things with and they are your friends. They shall be the ones you turn to in the coming years to complain about how your mother and I are ‘being completely unfair’ and ‘ruining your life’ and all the other things angst ridden teenagers say to their little comrades in the never ending war between parents and children."

Harry smiled at that. "I never thought of it like that," he told him, honestly.

Snape’s eyes softened. "I know that our situation is…awkward, to say the least," he told him. "We are still learning about each other and getting used to our roles as father and son. I am hoping that we may have the chance over the holidays to really bond and form a more ‘comfortable’ relationship beyond that of student and teacher."

"You do?" Harry asked, wide-eyed. "Really? I, uh, I thought maybe you didn’t ask me because you weren’t sure…weren’t sure you liked the idea of me being your son… I mean, its been a weak since we went shopping in Diagon Alley and the only time I’ve seen you since then is in class…"

Snape shook his head.

"I have been…preoccupied this past week," he told him, hesitantly. "But know this, Harry, I do not now nor will I ever regret being your father or having you for a son. Once your mother is fully recovered and we can publicaly announce our relationships, things will be much different then they are now. I promise you that. And if you require further proof, then allow me to show you."

With that, Harry felt himself against the Potions Master’s chest and his arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace.

He’s hugging me, Harry thought with a surprise. Profesor Snape is actually hugging me!

"I love you, Harry," he heard the man whisper, kissing him softly on the top of the head. "Never doubt that, son. Never."

Harry pulled back, wiping at the tears that had fallen. "T-Thank you, Sir," he told him, quietly.

Snape smiled at him. "You are welcome," he told him. "Why do we not do this? Every evening over the holidays you may come down here and spend some time with me…and Draco, of course."

"What will I tell Ron, though?" Harry asked him, biting his lip. "I told ‘em I’d forgotten something down here tonight, but I can’t keep sayin’ that. Even Ron knows I’m not that forgetful!"

Snape chuckled at that. "You have a point," he said, thinking. "Perhaps you should tell him you have detention with me—for lurking in the dungeons or some such thing."

"Every night!" Harry exclaimed. "Over the holiday!"

Snape smirked, evilly.

"Wouldn’t he believe ‘the mean, old bat of the dungeons’ capable of that?" he asked him, pointedly.

Harry blushed at that. "Yeah, he’d believe it," he said, sighing. "I was hopin’ I could change his mind about you, though. Or maybe…"

"Maybe what?" Snape asked him, curiously.

"Um, convince you to be a little nicer in class," Harry told him, awkwardly. "I mean, I know you have to be super strict ‘cuz otherwise we’d probably blow ourselves up and you, too…but maybe you could try not to yell so much…at least at poor Neville, anyway. I mean, he really tries in class, ya know…"

Snape smirked. "I shall take your advice under advisement," he told him, grinning. "For now, though, since we have a bit of time before curfew. Would you like to play a game of chess?"

"Wizard’s chess?" Harry asked him, curiously. "Uh, I’m not too good at it…"

"No," Snape said, reaching to he side of the chair and pulling a small table with a chess set on it in-between the two chair. "This is a regular Muggle chess set—so you have to play the old fashioned way, rather than simply commanding the pieces to move."

"Wicked," Harry said, examining the chess set. It was made entirely of wood, each piece obviously hand-crafted and intricately detailed. "It’s beautiful."

"Yes, it is," Snape said, an odd note in his voice. "It was a birthday gift to me when I was ten—from my father."

Harry glanced up. "He made it?" he asked him, astounded.

Snape nodded. "Oh, yes," he told him, smirking. "He was very good with his hands—I believe I told you that—especially when it came to wood carving."

"Wow," Harry said, smiling. "Did he ever teach you how to do it?"

"Once," Snape said, wrinkling his nose. "I did not have the…uh, knack…for it as he did. Also, I began attending Hogwarts soon after and…things began to go downhill."

"Do you think he still does it?" Harry asked him, curiously. "Carving stuff, I mean."

Snape shrugged. "I do not know," he told him, honestly. "You can always ask him, if you wish—since he is going to be here now."

Harry nodded. "He smiled at me in the Great Hall," he told him, hesitantly. "It was like he knew me."

Snape frowned at that. "More than likely Albus—Professor Dumbledore—told him who you were," he said, sniffing. "They are rather…close…from what I gathered."

"Oh," Harry said, quietly. "So, can we play?"

Snape smiled. "Let’s," he said, gesturing to the white pieces. "You go first…"

For the next hour, they played chess. Harry, of course, lost every game but he began to understand a little more about strategy.

"Ron would hate playing you," he told the Potions Master, chuckling. "He might actually lose, then!"

"Indeed," Snape said, smirking. "Perhaps, eventually, I shall challenge young Mr. Weasley to a game…"

Just then, there came knock on the door. Getting up, the professor made his way over to it and opened it.

"Hello, Severus."

Harry looked up at the sound of the husky, deep voice and his eyes widened in recognition.

Standing in the doorway was Tobias Snape.

"May I come in?"

HPHPHPHP

Severus’ jaw clenched at the sight of his father standing in the doorway of his quarters.

"Hello, Severus," Tobias greeted him, pleasantly. "May I come in?"

It took every ounce of willpower he had not to slam the door in the older man’s face.

You promised Lily you’d give him a chance, he reminded himself sternly.

Stepping back from the door, he said, "If you must…"

Tobias stepped through, taking a quick glance around. His eyes fell on Harry.

"Oh," he said, glancing back at him. "I didn’t mean to interrupt…"

"No, uh, Sir," Harry said, standing up. "I was just leaving. Professor Snape was just…uh…he was just teaching me a bit about strategy." He eyed the chess board, indicating the ‘teaching method’.

Severus snorted at that.

It looks like I’ll have to teach him how to lie properly, he thought to himself. That way I’ll always know when he’s lying about something.

"You don’t have to rush off on my account, Harry," Tobias told the boy, startling them both by using his name.

"Um, that’s okay," Harry told him, awkwardly. "It’s almost curfew, anyway."

"Indeed," Severus said, opening the door. "Good evening, Mr. Potter. Be sure to be here tomorrow night for that ‘detention’ we discussed."

Harry nodded, attempting not to smile (and failing miserably, he noticed).

"Yes, Sir," he said. "Goodnight, Sirs." With that, he exited the room.

Severus watched him go up the corridors and then up the stairs to the main part of the castle. He then closed the door with a sigh.

"He seems like a really nice boy," Tobias told him, smiling. "You must be proud of him."

Severus looked at him, sharply. "What do you mean?" he asked him, suspiciously.

Tobias raised an eyebrow.

"Don’t tell me you haven’t told your own son you’re proud of him, Severus?" he said, disapprovingly. "I thought I taught you better than that."

Severus swallowed, not sure how to respond. "How?" he asked him. "How do you know Harry is my son?"

"Lily wrote to me, eleven years ago," Tobias told him. "She wanted me to hear if from her—about the battle and you being presumed dead—rather than a stranger. It was then that she told me the Snape name would live on, as she was expecting your son. It was only later that Albus wrote to tell me you were alive."

"I see," Severus said, evenly. So he’s known all these years, he thought with regret, and I’ve only just found out… Fate truly is cruel at time.

Tobias gestured to the armchair Harry had vacated. "May I sit?" he asked, politely.

Severus nodded, going and sitting down himself opposite him.

Tobias sat, and then glanced at him.

"I was sorry to hear about Lily, Severus," he told him, quietly. "I know how much you loved her…"

Severus swallowed. "How could you?" he asked him, frowning. "You were in prison when…when we were married…?"

"I always liked Lily," Tobias told him, smiling wistfully. "She was good for you. Before you met her you were such an awkward kid, but then you began to come out of your shell around her. I was happy about that…and it was obvious, even when you were kids, that you loved her."

Severus blinked. "I did not know you were that…observant," he said, carefully.

Tobias snorted, but then chuckled.

"I wasn’t always a drunken bastard, Severus," he reminded him, wryly. "You’re childhood, to a certain point, was good. Wasn’t it?"

Severus glared at him, but then relaxed.

He’s right, he thought to himself with regret. Everything was fine until I went to Hogwarts.

"Yes," he admitted, hesitantly. "I suppose, before then, it was."

Tobias smiled at that, his eyes gazing down at the chess set that was still set up. "I remember when I made this for you," he told him, quietly. "Best work I did up to that point…"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Does that mean you still carve?" he asked him, curiously.

Tobias nodded. "Yes," he told him. "It’s how I’ve supported myself all these years, actually. I have a very success wood-working business. Of course, in the last couple of years, I’ve let my manager run it for me."

Severus frowned at that. "I don’t understand," he told him. "If you have a successful business, why…?"

"Why did I take Albus up on his offer to teach?" Tobias asked, smirking. "In one of my last letters to him, I mentioned as much as I enjoyed my wood-working that I always wanted to do more with my degrees than simply let them hang on my office walls. That was when he wrote back to tell me that there was a position here at Hogwarts available. At first, I thought he’d gone balmy—after all, I have no more magic than…well, then a third rate show magician—but then he explained that it was for a class called ‘Muggle Studies’ and that I would be teaching the kids about the non-magical world…including its history."

"And that was your only reason for accepting?" Severus asked him, curiously.

"No, of course not," Tobias told him, quietly. "I knew it would…hopefully…give us a chance to talk—to maybe try and put the past behind us and rebuild a little of what we had when you were kid."

Severus swallowed. "Albus should still have told me," he growled out, angrily. "Damn meddling old man!"

Tobias chuckled at that. "You really shouldn’t talk about your grandpa like that, Severus," he told him, smirking, "but you’re right—to a certain point. Albus means well…he just tends to look at the ‘big picture’ more than the ‘small picture’."

Severus snorted. "That would be putting mildly," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Did you know if it wasn’t for him, you and your mum and me would have been out on the street?" Tobias asked him, curiously.

Severus frowned. "What are you talking about?" he asked, curiously.

"After I lost my job," Tobias told him, "but before the drinking got out of hand…he started sending your mother money so that we could put food on the table and keep the house."

Severus blinked at that. "I don’t understand," he told him, honestly. "I thought Mum...had gotten a job…"

"She did," Tobias told him, "but she still didn’t make near enough what we needed. Albus, who felt guilty for being a neglectful dad when she was younger, sent her money to boost our income."

"I had no idea," Severus said. "He never said…"

"He wouldn’t," Tobias told him, smirking. "Albus doesn’t try to come off as some all powerful Merlin-type—even though that’s how everybody sees him—he’s a man just like you and me. He’s made mistakes—mistakes he deeply regrets. But just like us he has his pride, too."

"You certainly seem to know him a great deal better than I do," Severus said, quietly. And I’ve known him for more than twenty years!

"He started writing to me while I was in prison," Tobias told him. "He…helped me, a great deal. Right after the accident, I…I wanted to die, Sev. I even tried to off myself a time or two, but apparently your grandfather wanted me to live with my mistakes. He admitted to me, years later, that he placed a charm or jinx or something on me at your mother’s funeral that prevented anyone—including myself—from harming me physically. Then, he started writing to me. At first, I was confused. Why would he want to be a pen-pal to the man who had killed his daughter? I figured he’d hate me…but he didn’t. He wrote to let me know how you were doing, mostly. He kept me up to date on your schooling and how things were going. A couple years in, he began to write how concerned he was about your…um…interest…in the Dark Arts."

Severus snorted. "He didn’t seem all that concerned at the time," he told him, sighing.

"But he was," Tobias told him, nodding. "I felt horrible that I was causing you to go down a path I knew your mum had definitely not wanted you to go…"

"You may have opened the door," Severus admitted to him, swallowing, "but I am the one who chose to walk through it."

"But you also chose to walk back out of it," Tobias reminded him, proudly.

"Not without help," Severus said, quietly.

"Everyone needs help sometime, Severus," Tobias told him. "I learned that the hard way—not to mention too late."

Severus glanced at him, his eyes narrowing.

"Do you miss her?" he asked him, shrewdly. There was no need to clarify who he meant.

Tobias swallowed. "Every minute of every hour of every day for the last twenty years," he told him, without hesitation.

Severus could hear the sincerity in his voice…and the pain.

"So do I," he told him, staring him in the eye. "It seems we have something in common, after all."

Tobias nodded. "More than just that, I think," he told him, truthfully. "I know it doesn’t matter to you whether I am proud of you or not, Sev, but I am nonetheless—and I know your mother would be, too."

Severus felt a lump rise in his throat, but pushed it back down. "T-Thank you," he told him. "That means…a great deal."

Tobias nodded, and then stood. "I suppose I should head to bed," he told him, "I’ve disturbed you long enough, I reckon."

Severus also stood. "I was merely hiding out, any way," he admitted him, wryly.

Tobias smirked at that. "Do you think it will be possible?" he asked him, curiously. "For us to…get along?"

Severus knew the true question he was trying to ask was if there was any hope for them having a father-son relationship again.

"It is…possible," he told him, hesitantly. "Only time will tell…"

Tobias nodded. "Yes, it will," he said, holding out his hand. "Good night, Severus."

"Good evening," Severus said, reaching out to grasp the older man’s hand. "Tobias."

Tobias smiled at that, knowing it was his way of bridging the gap between them. With a nod, he turned and exited the room.

Severus stared after him for several minutes, but then sighed and sat back down.

He had actually managed to have a civil conversation with his own father for the first time in twenty years.

He smiled.

SSSSSSS

Lily glanced up as the door to her hospital room opened and she wasn’t all that surprised by who her visitor was.

"Hello, Lily," Tobias Snape greeted her, coming over and sitting down beside her bed.

"Well?" she asked him, hopefully.

"We’ve made a…start," he told her, grinning. "Thank you for writing me."

Lily smiled, knowingly.