Severus tapped his wand against the flat of his hand as he walked down the corridor, enjoying the sharp, echoing sound that it made in the hallway. It was his night to check that the kiddies were all safely tucked away in their beds all snug and sound. There was still a half an hour to go before curfew, but Severus found that starting his rounds a little early made it possible for him to end that much earlier.

Severus put his hands on the small of his back and stretched, taking pleasure in the sound of the bones 'cracking' as he did so. It felt good, though it did nothing to ease the fatigue that had settled over him of late.

Yawning, Severus twisted his neck to the side, and heard another 'crack' as he did so. He felt much too old for his age. Cricks and creaks and sleepless nights were meant for wizards far older than himself, like Dumbledore, or the grandfather he'd never been permitted to meet when he was a child.

The fact that the elder Prince wizard was seeking him out now, in the twilight of his life, did nothing to quell the bitter anger that Severus felt toward his mother's pretentious family. The Princes had outright disowned his mother when she married Tobias Snape. Granted, Severus' father was a deplorable Muggle, but that did excuse them turning their backs on Eileen.

Severus had not yet answered a single one of his grandfather's multiple inquiries, though Dumbledore had encouraged him to at least give the wizard a chance. He'd cited the folly of youth, but Severus had summarily dismissed the Headmaster's excuses as paltry at best.

Severus' grandfather had hardly been a youth when his only daughter had fallen victim to a drunken, abusive bastard. Nor had the wizard been a youth when Severus was growing up, dodging his father's fists and developing a quick wit and a sharp tongue so as to lure his father's violent attentions away from his mother.

No, Severus Cornelius Prince, the very wizard that Severus was named after, could rot in the very bowels of Azkaban for all that Severus cared. The wizard had turned his back on his only daughter, snubbed her in her greatest time of need, and was only now reaching out because he was concerned about carrying on the Prince name.

Where was the great, pure-blood Prince wizard when Eileen cried herself to sleep after Tobias had a go at her? Where was he when Severus was being beaten because he'd asked an impertinent question? Where was the great, and almighty, Severus C. Prince, when Severus was facing the most difficult decision of his young life after his mother's death? Where was the wizard when Severus had been coerced into taking the Dark Mark? When he'd been foolish enough to give the Dark Lord the very thing he needed to kill the one person he'd loved most in this world, aside from his mother?

Severus scowled darkly and arched his back, relishing the way his bones 'popped' into place and eased some of the tension that he'd been feeling lately with regard to his grandfather's sudden interest in him, and Harry Potter's recent mishaps.

That boy, Lily's child or not, was going to be the death of him one of these days. He was so much like his irresponsible, spoiled father that Severus found it difficult to see anything of Lily in him, save for in the eyes. Harry had his mother's eyes, much as he had his father's untamable hair and charming, good looks. It was a combination which Severus found disconcerting at best.

Severus paused mid-step when he heard the sound of voices coming from around a corner. They were speaking in hushed, urgent whispers. Their voices, though they didn't carry far, echoed in the stone corridor and carried themselves to where Severus stood.

He couldn't make out who the students were, but from the timbre of the voices, he surmised that both conspirators were boys. If Merlin was on his side, the boys would be from Minerva's house and he'd be able to rub it into the Gryffindor's head of house for days to come, that two of her boys were out and about the castle so late.

Smiling to himself, Severus inched forward, intent upon giving the boys a good scare to emphasize the dangers of hanging out in the castle at all hours of the night. Just as he was about to round the corner and confront the two, soon to be curfew breakers, he heard something that caused his steps to falter.

"You need to go to a professor and tell them what's been going on at the Dursley's."

"I can't."

Severus ground his teeth as he recognized the voices of Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter. He sighed heavily, and stood as still as possible, in an attempt to hear what lies Potter would weave for his best friend's benefit.

"But, Harry, you've got to tell someone what they've been doing. It isn't right." Weasley sounded angry, and Severus could imagine the redhead's freckled face blotched with spots of red that would put his hair to shame.

"Doesn't matter." Potter's voice was muffled, and Severus rolled his eyes. "Dumbledore says I've got to live with them. Besides, I tried to tell a teacher once, but..."

"But what? What happened, Harry?" Severus heard what he thought was the shifting of robes over stone and wondered if Weasley had sat down next to Potter.

"They said I was lying and my uncle..." the boy's words trailed off into nothingness that Severus strained to hear.

"What did your uncle do?"

"Nothing." Potter's voice sounded clear and determined, and Severus detected a lie.

"Then why are you so worried about telling one of the professors now?" Weasley asked, and Severus wondered that himself.

"'S no reason to," Potter said. "Besides, it's not that big a deal."

"Harry," Severus could hear the eye roll indicated by the tone of voice Weasley had used, and he wondered if the boy hadn't been spending too much time around Granger. "Being starved and locked up is a big deal. It's not normal. At least not in the wizarding world."

Severus frowned and shook his head. He took a step toward the boys, but was once more stopped, this time by Potter's voice.

"I didn't grow up in the wizarding world, Ron. I grew up with Muggles who hated me and what I am. So maybe being kept in a...in a cupboard, or a...a bedroom with locks on the outside and being fed..."

"Portions not fit for an owl," Weasley cut his best friend off angrily. "Harry, what your relatives are doing to you is criminal, and I don't think that it's just by wizarding standards. I think that in the muggle world, what they're doing to you isn't right either. And that's not even going into the fact that they treat you like a house elf, and hit you, and..."

"It isn't that bad," Potter's voice cracked, and Severus took another step toward the boys.

He could now see around the corner. Potter and Weasley were sitting side-by-side on a window seat - the very one that Severus had sat on with Lily from time-to-time during their tenure at Hogwarts, before James Potter had torn her from him. Severus tamped down on his memories as he recalled a similar conversation that he'd had with Lily Evans. He, too, had told his best friend that things weren't that bad, and had convinced her that he was okay, that they didn't need to go to a professor, because his father wasn't that bad.

Potter's chin was resting atop his knees, his arms were wrapped around his legs, and there was a certain determined resignation on his face. Sitting like that, the young wizard looked so small, and vulnerable. When seen in juxtaposition with the long, lanky figure of his best friend, Potter looked downright diminutive.

Ronald Weasley had hit a growth spurt sometime during the summer, Severus and the other professors had surmised, and had returned to Hogwarts a giant amidst many of his cohorts. It never ceased to amaze Severus how quickly young wizards and witches could grow during their teens. Sometimes it seemed that they grew several inches overnight.

Potter, however, had yet to hit his growth spurt. Student growth or lack thereof, was a topic of conversation among his co-workers. It never failed to bore Severus out of his skull, as did their inane discussion of what was ailing what student, or who was dating whom, or which witch was creating drama. It was enough to drive a sane wizard insane. Yet, he did remember how concerned Minerva was when she'd mentioned that Potter seemed small for his age. He wasn't as tall or robust as his father had been, nor did he seem to take after his mother at that age.

"You're forgetting, mate," Weasley's voice was soft, kind even, yet it was unyielding, "that I saw the marks on your back."

Potter tilted his head to the side and regarded his friend for a long moment. Potter's mouth twisted in variety of expressions that Severus found difficult to read from as far away as he was. He took another step forward and held his breath when Potter's forehead scrunched, as though he'd heard something. When Potter merely drew in a shuddery breath and then shrugged, Severus breathed freely again.

"They're not that bad," Potter insisted, smiling, trying to ease Weasley's misgivings.

Severus was suddenly struck by a memory, one that he couldn't easily dismiss even though he hadn't thought of it once during the intervening years.

'I'm okay, Lily', Severus promised the young witch. She was sitting beside him, hugging her knees to her chest, and eyeing him dubiously.

Lily's eyes filled with tears, and she shook her head. 'No, you're not, Severus. You're not okay, and I'm worried that one of these days, he's going to kill you.'

Not wanting to see her cry, Severus affected a smile and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, touching his nose to hers. This corridor, this window seat, was a special place that just the two of them knew about. There was no chance that they'd be caught together by either Slytherins or Gryffindors - both of whom would give them a hard time for being friends and hanging out together.

'I promise you that I'm alright. Tobias isn't going to kill me,' Severus said with more conviction than he'd felt.

'I still think you should tell someone, maybe Professor Dumbledore,' Lily said, and then she grasped one of his hands in hers and had squeezed. 'Please?'

Sighing, Severus nodded. 'I promise that I'll tell a professor if things get worse.'

Severus closed his eyes to banish the memory. He hadn't meant to lie to Lily, but things had gone from bad to worse during that holiday, and he hadn't told a professor as he'd promised he would. He'd kept it to himself, too ashamed to admit that, in addition to being a poor half-blood, he was also smacked around by his father, and unable to protect his mother.

"Besides, it's not like I have to live with them all year long," Potter wheedled.

Weasley shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. A mutinous look creased his features and he leveled a heated glare at his friend.

"You're unbelievable," Weasley's voice was quiet and it shook with emotion. "I don't get why you'd want to defend those...those Muggles." Weasley ran a hand through his hair and looked away from his friend.

Severus froze when he realized he'd been spotted by the teen. Instead of calling attention to his presence, though, Weasley gave Severus a considering look and then twisted his lips upward in what might've been a smile. It was a very Slytherin look, and Severus saw it for what it was - a calculated move, not unlike one that the redhead would've made in a game of chess. Except, there was much more at stake here than a rook or a checkmate.

"I'm not defending them," Potter, unaware of Severus' presence, said irritably.

"Yeah, you are," Weasley insisted. "By saying that they're not that bad, you are saying that you deserve it, and that they're right."

Potter drew in a deep breath and let it out through his mouth, causing the fringe of hair on his forehead to flutter. "Why can't you just let it go?"

Weasley turned from Severus to look at Potter. "Because, you're my best friend, and you need help. What if it was me or Hermione? Would you just let it go?"

Potter shook his head. "But, it's not you or Hermione."

Weasley regarded his friend and scoffed. "You're no different than me or Hermione."

Potter barked out a strangled sort of half laugh and he buried his head in his knees before lifting it and giving his friend an incredulous look. "I'd hate to break it to you, Ron, but I'm the boy who lived. I've defeated Voldemort. Who the hell is going to believe me when I tell them that...that..."

"Your aunt, uncle and cousin are mistreating you?" Weasley asked the question that Potter couldn't voice.

Potter nodded, and wiped at a tear with the back of his hand. His mouth was quivering and the boy was shaking, and Severus couldn't seem to make his feet stop moving.

"Show me," Severus spoke to Weasley, ignoring Potter completely. The boy was trembling and sputtering, and Severus had absolutely no use for him at the moment.

Weasley wasted no time in grasping and pulling the sleeve one of Potter's arms, baring it to his professor.

"This is just one of the bruises," Weasley said, pointing to an already fading finger-shaped bruise on Potter's forearm. "There are others on his back, shoulders and legs."

"Is this the first time he's come to Hogwarts bearing these types of marks?" Severus asked.

Potter wasn't looking at either of them, and he drew his arm around himself the moment that it was released.

"No, Sir. He comes here bruised and hurting every single school year," Weasley's answer wasn't what Severus had wanted to hear, but it was what he'd expected, given what he'd already overheard.

Severus nodded, and he watched Potter warily. The boy was clearly distraught, and angry, and trying hard to fight off imminent tears. Potter's breathing was coming in harsh gasps. The distressed sound that accompanied crying echoed in the corridor, and Severus felt completely out of his element.

He almost sighed in relief when Weasley sat down next to his friend and wrapped his arms around the other boy. At first, Potter stiffened, and then he suddenly sagged. Severus cleared the distance between himself and the Gryffindor teens in three long strides, reaching them in time to catch Potter before he fell to the floor.

"Harry!" Weasley's voice boomed, and Severus winced, but he didn't release his hold on Potter.

"Mr. Weasley," Severus said in clipped tones, "a little help here."

Potter was clinging to him, and Severus felt a painful twinge in his lower back. Potter was half-slumped against him and sobbing into his robes. It was an awkward and uncomfortable and uncomfortable position. Severus didn't like how it made him feel vulnerable, and sorry for the boy who'd been a thorn in his side for so long.

"Here, Professor, let me just..." Weasley hovered around the two of them, looking a little lost as to how he could best help. Severus rolled his eyes, and shifted, giving Weasley better access to Potter who was acting as if all of the bones in his body had been vanished in one go.

"Potter, get a hold of yourself," Severus snapped, and was both surprised and relieved when Potter straightened, taking some of his own weight.

Potter frantically swiped at his face with the back of his hand, and sniffed as he tried to get his emotions under control. His face was pale and blotchy, and Severus couldn't help but think that the boy looked ugly when he cried. Eyes, red and puffy; nose running; face streaked with the trails of tears.

Severus blinked and looked away when it struck him that Potter reminded him of Lily when she'd been crying. It was a sobering thought, and, as he and Weasley helped guide Potter toward the Hospital Wing, Severus tried everything he could to keep the image of Lily crying over her son's lost childhood from his mind. It didn't work.

Leaving Potter and Weasley in Madame Pomfrey's care, after having quietly explained the situation to the mediwitch, Severus made his way to the Headmaster's office. He trusted that the school's mediwitch would ascertain the full extent of Potter's abuse, and record her findings in a professionally detached fashion as she'd done for a number of other young witches and wizards that Severus, and other staff members, had brought to her over the years. She was good at coaxing students to talk when others couldn't get them to, and had always done a thorough job examining them.

"Cockroach clusters," Severus said to the gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's offices.

It was with a heavy, conflicted heart that Severus made his way up to his mentor's office. He'd promised to protect and keep Potter safe while the boy was at Hogwarts, because Dumbledore had asked him to, and he'd felt compelled to comply for Lily's sake.

But, if the boy was unsafe with his family during the summer months, then Severus knew that no amount of being protected while at school was going to ensure that Potter was indeed safe. He had no idea what he was going to tell Dumbledore, how he was going to explain what he'd discovered while looking for miscreants.

"Severus, what a pleasant surprise," Dumbledore said with a voice that lacked its usual enthusiasm. He gestured to the seat opposite himself, and Severus sat down, declining a proffered treat.

Years of dealing with the wizened wizard had taught Severus not to be surprised when Dumbledore seemed to know that something was up before being told anything. It was something that Severus wished he was capable of doing.

"To what do I owe a visit from my favorite Potions Master?" Dumbledore asked in a voice lacking its usual gaiety.

"It has come to my knowledge that Mr. Potter's home life is not what many of us have been led to believe," Severus cut right to the chase.

Dumbledore leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk. He pierced Severus with a discerning look, and, keeping all that he'd overheard and seen, with regard to Potter, at the forefront of his mind, Severus returned the Headmaster's gaze without flinching.

Looking away, Dumbledore blinked heavily and covered his mouth with a gnarled hand. He drew in a deep breath, and looked at Severus.

"I'm sorry," Dumbledore said. "I thought it was for the best to leave young Harry with his relatives. I never dreamed that Petunia and her family would abuse him."

"I don't think that what I bore witness to was even the worst of it," Severus said after some thought. "Weasley indicated that Potter has other injuries, which Poppy will no doubt uncover."

Dumbledore closed his eyes briefly, a pained look crossed his face, and Severus waited, wondering what the Headmaster would do. Blood wards or not, Potter couldn't continue to live with the Dursleys, not with the abuse he'd suffered at their hands. With Black on the loose, and the entire wizarding world on the brink of another war, the Headmaster was between a rock and a hard place - a Muggle phrase that Severus thought was rather apt for the situation.

When the Headmaster lifted his eyes, and looked at him - blue eyes twinkling and determined - Severus immediately shook his head. Whatever plan Dumbledore had cooked up was cockamamie at best, and he was not going to play along with it.

"Severus," Dumbledore's voice had lost some of its earlier sadness, "if you are amenable, might I be able to interest you in a proposition?"

Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Headmaster, I am not in a position to care for any student, let alone Harry Potter."

To emphasize his point, he rolled his sleeve up to reveal the forearm that the Dark Lord had branded when he'd chosen to join the megalomaniac. Though the Dark Mark was barely visible, Severus could almost feel it undulating and burning beneath his skin, as it had when the Dark Lord had been active.

Dumbledore merely raised an eyebrow, and popped a lemon drop in his mouth. He sucked on the Muggle candy for a moment, and it made him look especially thoughtful. Severus wondered, absurdly, if that is why the wizard persisted in having the sweetly sour candy on hand.

"And yet, you are the one giving voice to the proposition," Dumbledore said after a lengthy pause. He scratched at his beard - something else which made him look thoughtful, and wise. "Which leads me to believe that you are not as opposed to the idea of taking Potter, and possibly a few other students with less than ideal home lives, into your care."

Severus groaned and glared at Dumbledore. The elder wizard was the best of all four houses rolled up into one, and Severus knew that he'd been had.

Resigned, Severus asked, "Headmaster, what exactly did you have in mind?"

The smile that Dumbledore gave him was nearly blinding, and Severus rolled his eyes, knowing that his mentor wouldn't take offense.

"You've indicated that your grandfather has taken a sudden interest in familial matters," Dumbledore said slowly, as though he was thinking as he spoke, but Severus knew better than that. He knew that his mentor had been thinking on this very thing for a long while, perhaps not with the end result being him taking on Potter as a charge, but with other purposes in mind.

Severus nodded. "He has; I've refused his advances, as you well know."

Dumbledore inclined his head and gave him a small smile. "Might I suggest that you take him up on his offer, and secure the position as heir to the Prince title and inheritance?"

"By dangling Potter as the proverbial carrot?" Severus finished the Headmaster's thought.

Dumbledore nodded, and his smile broadened. "It would negate any prior magical holdings on your life, and..."

Severus absentmindedly rubbed at the all but invisible Dark Mark on his forearm. "And, when the Dark Lord returns, I'd be free from servitude."

"Yes," Dumbledore said quietly. "And, Harry would have a safe home."

"Because the Dark Lord would no longer have any sway over me, and would have to contend with ancient, familial magic that he doesn't have the acumen to understand," Severus finished the Headmaster's thought.

"That is, if you are willing to do this for Harry," Dumbledore's voice was soft, sad, "and the wizarding world."

"There is no love lost between the Potter boy and I, and I cannot pretend that I even like him," Severus said. "Not to mention the fact that Potter despises me as well."

"I believe that can be amended, if you are willing to do what it takes," Dumbledore said, and held his hands up in a placating manner when Severus narrowed his eyes at him. "Harry easily forgives and is quick to love, and, I believe that, given the recent revelations, perhaps, over time, your heart might be so moved as to possibly like Harry."

"Perhaps," Severus agreed noncommittally, thinking that it'd be far more likely for him to fall in love with Black or Lupin, but he wisely kept those thoughts to himself lest he bring any more trouble upon himself.

Dumbledore gave him a small smirk, which made Severus wonder if the wizard was privy to the very thoughts of his mind, but he shook that thought off. "Is that a yes, or a no, Severus?"

"Fine, I shall agree to take my grandfather up on his offer and mend the fences which he burnt to the ground," Severus practically growled out. When Dumbledore continued to look at him expectantly, he sighed and added, "And, I shall adopt Potter as my heir to break the ties which bind me to the Dark Lord, and bind myself, as well as Potter, to the Prince name and blood."

Dumbledore clapped his hands together once, and Fawkes trilled. It was a single note, and yet it was hauntingly beautiful and it stirred something in Severus' heart. Maybe he could, as Dumbledore had said - over a considerable amount of time - come to at least like the Potter boy, if they didn't kill each other first.

Severus was not a wizard easily given to fear. He prided himself on that. However, as he sat down to pen a letter, accepting his estranged grandfather's proposition, his hands trembled.

He had yet to speak with Potter, but that could wait until after he'd gone through the necessary formalities. At present, that involved accepting his grandfather's invitation to visit and discuss the details of the Prince estate. Dotting the i's and crossing the t's, so to speak - yet another useful Muggle phrase.

He'd have to speak to Potter at some point in time, and he wasn't relishing that. No, there were a great deal many other things that Severus would rather do than speak with Potter about the upcoming adoption. He'd almost be willing to allot that particular duty to Dumbledore, but it wasn't the Headmaster's place, and he didn't want to be accused of shirking his duties by Potter or anyone else.

Severus dipped the quill into the ink well and scowled at his still trembling hand, as though that would help make it still. It didn't. He might be able to quell students with a single glare, but the look did nothing for his own traitorous limbs.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Severus rolled his shoulders, and placed the tip of the quill against the parchment. A spidery dot of ink spread from the tip and across the top, left-hand corner of the paper. Cursing, Severus balled it up and tossed it into a wastebasket beside his desk. He pulled out a second sheet of parchment, and started again. This time, his hand was a little steadier.

Dear Master Prince,

I accept your invitation for a meeting at Prince Manor this coming weekend.

Signed,

Severus T. Snape, son of Eileen Prince

It wasn't an overly flowery letter - no one would accuse Severus of being a verbose man - but Severus was satisfied with the contents, and he summoned an owl from the owlery. Attaching the missive to the owl's leg, he sighed in relief when the owl flew out of sight. That done, he could now focus on other matters at hand - grading, checking up on Potter's status in the Hospital Wing, getting the 'real' story surrounding Potter's abuse from Weasley and Potter's other cohorts.

Xxx

"Professor Snape?" Granger's timid voice was followed by an equally timid knock on his office door.

Severus wrote one last comment on a rather deplorable essay from a third year in Ravenclaw (he'd expected much better from that particular student) before bidding Granger to enter. He stretched and grimaced when his spine, popped.

"Take a seat Miss Granger," Severus said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

Granger clasped her hands together and sat on the edge of the chair. She was a bundle of nerves.

"Relax," Severus said when Granger started wringing her hands. "You're not in trouble. I've called you here to discuss Mr. Potter."

If anything, the girl grew tenser, and she leaned forward. "What has he done now? He really doesn't mean to get into trouble Professor, not really. I think it's got something to do with the need to prove himself. Ronald has the same problem, but for different reasons."

Severus held a hand up to stop Granger who'd opened her mouth to add something more. She was earnest and seemed to believe what she'd said; there was no guile in either her words or demeanor.

"What do you mean?"

Granger bit her bottom lip and her eyes got a faraway look to them. Severus bit his tongue and inwardly sighed as he waited for her to speak.

"Well, you see, Sir," Granger said hesitantly, not quite meeting his gaze, "with Ronald, he does what he does because, well, he's the youngest boy in a family of seven, and he feels inadequate...I think."

Severus nodded and waved for her to continue on. She truly was a very clever, young witch. He wasn't about to tell her that, though. There were plenty of other professors who told her that at every turn, and he wasn't going to add to an ego which needed to be built, not on what others said, but on what Miss Granger was able to accomplish by her own merit. She didn't need him to boost her ego.

"And, Potter?" He was curious as to what Granger had to say about the dark-haired hero.

Again, Granger bit her bottom lip and she looked at her hands which were now locked together so tightly that her knuckles had grown white with the effort. When she finally spoke, it was with a quiet, strained voice.

"I don't think he's trying to prove himself to anyone but himself, Sir." She raised her eyes to his, and held his gaze. "It's almost like he's got to prove to himself that he...and, I'm not a hundred percent sure...that he is something more than he is...if that makes any sense."

It did make sense, but for reasons that Severus wasn't sure Granger would understand. If Potter had suffered from years of abuse, then he'd have a very great desire to prove himself not to be a failure or weak or whatever it was that Mr. and Mrs. Dursely had beaten into him.

"I see, thank you, Miss Granger," Severus said in a dismissive tone.

Granger frowned and leaned even closer to his desk. "Was that all, Sir?"

"Yes, please send in Mr. Weasley, I believe that he's arrived."

Severus almost chuckled at the incredulous look on her face at having been dismissed so soon. He would have questioned Granger further, but it was clear to him that she didn't know about what had happened at the Dursleys anymore than he did. If she had known something, she would have said or alluded to it. Instead of arguing with him for dismissing her, she nodded and gave him a tight smile and then left, sending Weasley in with some sort of whispered dialogue that Severus couldn't hear.

"Mr. Weasley, take a seat," Severus said in a more clipped tone than he'd used with Granger.

Weasley declined the seat and stood in front of the offered chair, arms crossed over his chest. His shoulders were squared and he had a look of defiance on his face. Severus sometimes wished that he could have lived as a hermit so that he wouldn't have to deal with teenagers and their sometimes volatile hormones.

"Is this about Harry?" Weasley's tone held an undercurrent of anger, and Severus felt his earlier headache, which had started to abate, coming back.

Instead of voicing an answer, Severus nodded and gestured for Weasley to take a seat. Weasley shook his head and started pacing in front of the desk. Severus rested his head on his hands and sighed, knowing that he was in for a very long life of suffering teenagers and their stupid emotions once he'd officially adopted Potter as an heir to the Prince estate.

"He's not making it up, you know," Weasley said, whirling on him.

Severus returned Weasley's glare with a bland look and a raised eyebrow, and gestured to the chair once again. This time, Weasley plopped down in the seat and sprawled, more than sat in it. Severus resisted the urge to snap at him to sit up straight.

"I know," Severus said after a minute. "What has he told you?"

After Weasley closed his gaping mouth, he pierced Severus with a narrow-eyed look that was rather impressive for a Gryffindor. Weasley looked up at the ceiling, as though he could find the words that he wanted to say written there. After several long moments, during which Severus was starting to doubt his sanity and think that maybe he was asleep, dreaming all of this, Weasley sat up and faced him.

There was something in the boy's blue eyes which Severus found difficult to discern. Weasley leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He searched Severus' eyes for a few seconds, and Severus wondered what the boy was looking for, even as he found himself hoping that Weasley would find whatever it was. It was an odd thought, one that Severus vowed to examine later.

"Not much," Weasley said, and he leaned back in the chair, stretching his long legs before him. "Just the usual, that he wishes he didn't have to go back to the Dursleys. I wouldn't know half of what I know if Fred, George and I hadn't broke him out of his home last year, and if I didn't watch him. He has nightmares, you know. Mostly in the first few weeks after he leaves the Dursleys."

This was not a version of Ronald Weasley that Severus was used to seeing, and, judging by the quirk of the boy's lips, Weasley was more than well aware of it. Severus wondered why Weasley kept this side of himself so well hidden, but knew better than to ask.

"I see...and does he say anything in his dreams?"

Weasley shrugged and nodded. "Mostly things like: stop, leave me alone, I didn't mean to..."

In spite of the flippant way in which Weasley had delivered the words, Severus saw that the boy was shaking, and that he was holding something back.

"Anything else?" Severus held Weasley's gaze.

"Yeah, sometimes he cries, and he sometimes mentions his uncle or aunt or Dudley," Weasley said with a shrug. "Dudley's his cousin," he added.

"And these marks that you've seen on him?" Severus asked.

"I noticed them when he was getting dressed the other day, made him explain them to me. Usually he waits until we're gone before getting dressed; now I understand why."

"How is it that you caught him this time?" Severus was curious as to how Potter had managed to keep this secret for so long and how Weasley had caught him in the act, so to speak.

"I doubled back," Weasley said, and he dragged a hand through his hair. "I'd forgotten my book for Potions." He blushed and looked away for a brief second.

"And when you confronted Potter?"

Weasley laughed harshly and clenched a fist in his lap. "He said that it had been an accident, but, when I called him on it, he admitted that his uncle had hit him because he thought that Harry had done something, 'freaky.'"

"And, it is your opinion that this has happened..."

"It has been happening ever since Harry went to live with them," Weasley cut him off before he could finish his thought. "He can't go back there...Sir. He can't."

"He won't," Severus said.

"Promise?" Weasley's voice cracked and Severus realized that the boy was close to tears. How he could go from spitting mad to tears in just a few seconds was mind boggling. Severus didn't remember being this emotionally volatile when he was a teenager.

"Yes, I promise." Severus felt a little silly making that promise, it was very unlike him, but then again, he was being confronted by a side of Ronald Weasley that he'd never been privy to before.

Weasley suddenly smiled, and Severus felt like he was suffering from emotional whiplash. At this rate, his headache was not going to be abating anytime soon.

"Sir?" Weasley interrupted his musings.

"Mr. Weasley?" Severus raised an eyebrow in question.

"Why did you help Harry?" There was open curiosity on Weasley's face, and the boy leaned closer as he examined Severus' face in turn.

"Because," Severus said, and he was going to leave it at that, but there was something in the way that Weasley was looking at him which made him continue, "it was the right thing to do, and..."

I wish someone had done the same for me. Though he left that part unspoken, he felt as though Lily was watching from wherever it was that she had gone to when she'd died to save the life of her son. Her green eyes were glistening with tears that would forever remain unshed, but she was smiling fondly at him, and at Weasley, as though to express some sort of gratitude to the both of them.

"And, what?" Weasley's brow crinkled.

"And, anyone else would have done the same," he finished lamely.

"But," Weasley said, taking a deep breath and letting it out noisily, "no one did. Harry told me that he tried to tell Dumbledore, and he once tried to tell a Muggle teacher, but that didn't work out well, and he was locked in his cupboard for a solid week, after his uncle..."

"Cupboard?" Severus cut Weasley off, ignoring the way his half-shout caused the boy to flinch.

"Ye...ah." Weasley was looking at Severus as though the wizard had gained two heads. "It was where he slept before his acceptance letter came from Hogwarts. He said that his letter was addressed to the cupboard."

"And he told all of this to you when?"

"The other morning, when I saw the bruises," Weasley said, speaking as though he thought that Severus was slow. Severus blinked at him, and Weasley swallowed and leaned back a little.

"I told him he had to tell Dumbledore, and then all of that...stuff...came out, and that's when he told me about the cupboard and the teacher and why he couldn't tell Dumbledore or another professor," Weasley finished quickly.

"I see. You're a good friend, Mr. Weasley." Severus grinned when Weasley's mouth dropped open, and almost chuckled when the teen's eyes practically bugged out of his head.

"Thank you, Sir," Weasley said after he'd regained his composure.

"I'm merely stating a fact," Severus said, waving off the thanks.

Weasley blushed, and he shook his head. "No, thank you for helping Harry, even though you don't really like him."

Severus wondered what the boy would think if he'd told him about the planned adoption, but, he figured that he'd shocked Weasley enough for one night. 'No need to give the boy a heart attack,' he thought as he dismissed Weasley with another promise that Potter wouldn't be returned to his Muggle relatives.

"What?" Potter's voice was quiet, and he refused to look at Severus, or the Headmaster. Instead, he was looking steadfastly at his fingers, as though they held the key to understanding.

Severus had expected the boy to protest the proposed adoption- vociferously. Apparently he'd underestimated him; something he'd been doing a lot of lately - underestimating the Gryffindors in his life.

First the Weasley boy, and now Potter. He was off his game, and Severus thought that might have something to do with what he'd overheard the other night. Learning about Potter's unhappy childhood had thrown him for a loop, and Severus wasn't sure when he'd regain his bearings.

He had half a mind to drop in on Petunia Dursley and visit Lily's wrath on the woman who should have provided a better home for her dead sister's son.

'Severus,' Lily hissed. She tugged on his arm, and he reluctantly pulled his wand back into his sleeve. 'You know we're not allowed magic outside of school.' The warning was whispered low enough so that Petunia, Tuney, Evans, who stood only a few feet away, couldn't overhear.

'Your sister doesn't know that,' Severus whispered equally low.

He kept an eye on the horse-faced girl who seemed intent upon giving them the evil eye. Severus didn't know why Lily persisted on trying to include her older sister on their outings. Petunia was a jealous, mean-spirited girl, and she hated Severus even more than she seemed to hate magic.

'Yes, but,' Lily sighed, and looked at her older sister with such love that it made Severus' heart ache.

Petunia didn't deserve her sister's love. Severus understood that with every fiber of his being. He wondered why Lily couldn't see it. Why she insisted on loving her sister when her sister didn't love her in return. In his limited world view, love shouldn't be wasted on those who didn't repay it.

'But, there's no harm in letting her think that we can perform magic outside of school,' Severus insisted, and he brought his wand back out and casually pointed it around them. 'It'll stop her from bullying us.'

'What are you two freaks talking about?' Petunia sneered at them, but she kept her distance and a wary eye on the wand that Severus held out at arm's length.

'She's not a bully, Severus,' Lily said in a heated whisper.

Petunia was watching them with narrowed eyes. She'd picked up a rock and was weighing it in her hand. Severus had no direct proof of it, but he knew that Petunia was responsible for the rock that had been heaved through his mother's kitchen window the other day. His father had blamed him for it, and had taken it out on his hide. It was an unjust punishment which Severus had borne with a stoic pride.

He hadn't shared any of this with Lily, and never would because he knew it would break her heart. Even so, he didn't trust Petunia, and he had a suspicion that it was the older girl who'd killed Lily's cat soon after she'd returned from school that summer. It had been a slow acting poison. Lily had found her beloved pet, Buttons, outside her bedroom door, meowing piteously and in obvious pain, and brought him to Severus. He'd done his best to try and save the ailing cat, but nothing had worked. They'd buried him in the park, beneath the willow tree.

'Still,' said Severus, 'it can't hurt for her to think that we can do magic outside of school.'

"I'll go back to the Dursley's," Potter said, interrupting Severus' memory.

As a young wizard, he'd envisioned exacting revenge on Petunia for the death of Buttons, the beatings he'd endured over that summer due to various broken windows, and for her animosity toward Lily - who'd done nothing, but love her sister - and him. But now, looking at Potter, sitting rigid in the infirmary, Severus realized that childhood hatred for the elder sister of his best friend had nothing on what he felt for right her now.

"No, Potter, you won't," Severus said. "You won't go back to the dubious care of your mother's sister. As it is, you should have said something about the abuse to the Headmaster, or your Head of House during your first year."

Potter's head snapped up, and the boy glared at him. His fingers knitted into the bed sheets, and his nostrils flared. His cheeks flushed with anger, and Severus surmised that there might even be a touch of humility in what the boy was feeling. He knew that, were their roles reversed, he'd be feeling anger and shame and like dropping through the center of the earth or maybe blowing the earth up.

"So, this is my fault?" he asked. His voice hadn't risen, if anything it had gotten quieter. The windows rattled in their panes, and Severus couldn't help it when his lips twisted upward in a smile and his eyebrow arched.

"What, pray tell, in all of this, do you determine to be your fault?" Severus asked.

Potter's mouth opened and closed and his cheeks puffed as he fought, visibly, to control emotions that Severus had known would be coming. It was an impressive show of power. He'd expected the boy to give way to his temper, and shout curses at him, or for the windows to implode in a shower of glass and stones. Neither of those scenarios happened.

Severus wasn't sure if he should be disappointed, or relieved, by the anticlimactic way in which Potter had reacted to the news that he was going to be adopted by him. Judging by the breath that Dumbledore let out, the Headmaster was happy when all that happened was a hurricane-like wind whizzing through the room, lifting their hair and robes.

"I should never have been so..." Potter looked down at his hands as though he could find the words he sought there, "...so, careless. I should have been more careful. Ron shouldn't have seen. No one is supposed to know what happens over the summer...it's my fault that..." Potter trailed off, and the windows ceased their rattling.

"It's your fault that we know?" Dumbledore asked quietly, as though he was afraid of how Potter would answer the question.

Potter shook his head, and twisted the bed sheets in his hands. He smiled, but it was devoid of all emotion - just an upward curl of lips, much like a cat about to go in for the kill. It was an unsettling look, and Severus instinctively took a step toward Potter, placing himself between the boy and Dumbledore -not that the elder wizard needed any protection from him. Dumbledore was a formidable wizard, but Severus highly doubted that he would defend himself from an attack, warranted or not, launched by Potter.

"No, Headmaster, it's my fault that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon have to punish me. I try not to do anything wrong, but...I keep doing freaky things, and they only do what they need to do to make it stop." Potter said it so matter-of-factly that there was no doubt in Severus' mind that the boy truly believed what he'd said. This was no ploy for attention, no, woe-is-me tale.

Severus felt dizzy as the implications of what Potter had said hit him, and he realized that he really had his work cut out for him when it came to raising Potter as an heir of the Prince name. He couldn't allow Potter to continue to operate under the misconception that magic, accidental or otherwise, made him a freak and that he needed to be controlled through beatings, starvation, and isolation.

Pomfrey's examination had revealed far more than Potter had been willing to admit to, and Severus had read the report she'd presented to him and Dumbledore with dispassion, not wanting to be moved emotionally by the boy's plight. Emotions were often volatile, and did little by way of helping anyone. He needed to be thinking with his mind, not his heart when it came to Potter.

'It wasn't her fault,' Lily said. She was holding a wet cloth to her bloody nose, and Severus shook his head.

'Why do you always excuse her behavior?' he asked.

Lily looked at him over the cloth she held to her nose. She shook her head. 'You're one to talk, Sev. You make excuses for him,' her eyes darted toward his father who was talking with Mr. Evans, 'to my parents. Saying that you tripped and fell down the stairs, or walked into a door.'

'It's not the same,' Severus hissed, keeping an eye on his father, who, for once was sober, and acting halfway normal on a rare neighborly visit.

'Yeah, well, Tuney didn't mean it,' Lily said, jerking her chin up. 'She apologized.'

'He always apologizes, too,' Severus said darkly.

"And, what is it that they need to do to make it stop?" the Headmaster asked Potter, pulling Severus from his memory.

Potter shrugged. "You already know," he said, glancing at them through the fringe of his hair, "Madam Pomfrey and Ron told you all about it."

Dumbledore nodded and pulled thoughtfully at his beard. "Yes, they told us that you were beaten and starved and locked up. Ronald told us that you were given an unseemly amount of chores to perform on a daily basis."

Severus wondered when the Headmaster had spoken with Mr. Weasley, and why Mr. Weasley hadn't seen fit to tell him about the amount of chores Potter had been assigned. He'd have thought that the Weasley boy would have been more forthcoming with him...perhaps Dumbledore was right when he'd said that children were sorted into houses too soon. Maybe they ought to wait a year or two before sorting students into their houses after all.

"The chores are to keep me out of trouble," Potter said.

"And do they work - these chores?" Dumbledore asked, leaning a hip against the edge of Potter's bed.

There was just a touch of the customary twinkle in his eyes, but Severus knew that the twinkle had nothing to do with humor. His mentor was onto something important. Severus had an inkling of where the Headmaster was going with his line of questioning, and it made him a little nervous. He didn't know if he wanted to be here for this, because, if he was right, then it meant that Potter would break down into tears again, and Severus wasn't very good at dealing with tears.

'I don't know why she hates me so much,' Lily said, and there were tears in her eyes.

Severus didn't know what to say. He wanted to tell her that Petunia was a jealous bitch, and that it had nothing to do with Lily, but he knew that if he did, it would just lead to an argument and that the tears which were now falling freely, would only continue to fall, unchecked.

Not knowing what else to do for his best friend, Severus wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and patted her awkwardly on the back. He was surprised when she turned her head, and buried her face in his chest, clinging to him as she cried.

"I think they need to give me more," Potter's words startled Severus out of his memory.

He wondered why memories of Lily kept coming to him unbidden. It was nonplusing.

"Why do you think that, Harry?"

Potter shrugged, and Severus, tired of the gesture, ground his teeth to keep from saying anything to the boy.

"Because, no matter how many chores I have, I always seem to have time to screw something up," Potter answered with a frown. "And then, Uncle Vernon takes the belt to me, or Aunt Petunia says I can't eat, and..."

Dumbledore placed a hand on Potter's knee, and the boy flinched, but the Headmaster didn't seem to notice, because he kept his hand firmly in place.

"And, you aren't going back there, Harry," Dumbledore said after a pause. "Professor Snape," the Headmaster looked at him briefly, "may not seem like the most ideal person to take you in..."

Severus snorted, and then coughed to keep from breaking out into hysterical laughter. Maybe Dumbledore was losing his mind and all of this was a dream, and he'd wake up to find Lily and he children once again.

Potter turned his fixed gaze in his direction, and Severus returned the boy's measuring look. No, he wasn't dreaming. This, bizarre as it was, was his new reality. An abused Potter and he as the boy's unlikely caretaker. Dumbledore's new agenda.

"But, he's willing and able to," Dumbledore said.

"Why?" Potter asked.

"Because..."

"Because, Potter," Severus cut off whatever Dumbledore had been going to say; he leaned in close to Potter, speaking before reason could take over, "unlike those Muggle relatives of yours, I know how to treat even a house elf with common decency. Furthermore, while it has been debated by many a student, past and present, that my heart is cold and black and shriveled, provided that you follow the rumors that ascertain that I actually have a heart, I believe that, even in its current, shriveled state, my heart is a sight better than that of your Aunt Petunia's and Uncle Vernon's."

Severus ran a hand through his hair, and turned away from Potter, whose mouth had dropped open and then had been clenched tightly shut when he'd become aware of it. Severus let out a shaky breath and fisted his hands. Memories of his father flooded his mind, and he closed his eyes, trying to dispel them.

'Pathetic, useless waste of space,' his father spat at him, and he grabbed a fistful of Severus' hair, dragging him to his feet. His father punched him in the gut, and then brought the buckle of his belt down on the back of his legs.

The memories swirled and changed, and Severus had no control over them.

'Just like your whore of a mother.' Tobias shook him, and slapped him across the face. 'Always hanging out at that Evans girl's house. She's a freak just like you.'

...

'You let me do what I need to, woman,' Tobias shouted at Eileen, backhanding her. Severus launched himself at his father, getting a fist in the face and a broken nose for his efforts.

...

'You,' smack, 'will,' punch, 'learn,' slap, 'to,' smack, 'obey,' punch, 'your,' slap, 'father,' smack, 'boy.'

...

"I don't want to live with you," Potter's words jarred Severus from the unpleasant memories, like a smack in the face. As welcome as the release from the memories was, Potter's words and tone of voice grated on his nerves.

"You don't have a choice in the matter," Severus said, turning to glare at the boy.

Potter recoiled, and Severus saw himself, years younger, reflected in the boy's actions. He wondered if Tobias Snape had felt the selfsame bit of twisted satisfaction that he'd felt when Potter cringed. He wondered if Tobias Snape had felt gratified and like he'd won something when he'd managed to cow his son with a cruelly spoken word or a fist to the gut. The thought made Severus sick, and, realizing what he'd done, he backed up a step.

"Professor Snape," Dumbledore said in a chastening tone, "perhaps we had better revisit this discussion on another night, after Harry has had some time to think things over."

And, after you've calmed down and gotten yourself under control,Severus heard the unspoken words loud and clear as though the Headmaster had spoken them directly to his mind.

Potter looked like he wanted to protest further, but he nodded and blinked, and, with a jaw breaking yawn, he sagged back against the pillow, and Dumbledore helped him settle, tucking the hospital bed blankets around him. Severus wondered if Dumbledore had whispered something to spell Potter to sleep. Whether the boy was overcome by emotions to the point of exhaustion, or Dumbledore had a hand in it, Severus found that he didn't really care, he was grateful either way. It meant that he didn't have to apologize to Potter, and that he didn't have to explain something to the boy that he couldn't even put words to, because he wasn't sure if he fully understood why he'd agreed to Dumbledore's plan.

"Thank you," Severus said, once they'd left Potter asleep in the Hospital Wing.

"Severus," Dumbledore's voice was tired, yet hard, "you've got to put aside the events of the past, and overcome your hatred of Potter. Harry doesn't deserve it, and if you can't do it for his sake alone, think of Lily."

Severus clamped down tight on his emotions, which threatened to spill out. All he'd been doing lately had been thinking of Lily. Did the Headmaster have a hand in that? He gave his mentor a sidelong glance, and saw that there were traces of tears in the older wizard's eyes. He unclenched his fists, not even realizing until then that they were still clenched.

"She's all I've been thinking of since I came across Potter and Weasley in that corridor," Severus confessed quietly.

Dumbledore gave him a searching look, and Severus released a relieved breath. He hadn't truly thought that the Headmaster was behind the onslaught of memories, but, he'd feared it - a legacy of mistrust that he'd gotten from his father.

"And?" Dumbledore prodded.

Severus sighed and rolled his eyes. He was tired; this had been another long day.

"And, she never wanted to believe that her sister was capable of the terrible things that she did." Severus smiled wryly.

"But you always knew?" Dumbledore asked.

Severus nodded, not liking the direction this line of questioning was going. "Lily always said that I misunderstood Petunia, that her sister loved her, but that she just didn't understand the magic, and that she blamed magic for taking Lily away from her. That, Petunia's cruel words and actions were..."

"Nothing more than petty jealousy?" Dumbledore surmised.

Severus nodded. "Lily loved Petunia, and would not hear a bad word spoken against her, but Petunia hated magic, and me, and I'd wager that she hates Potter perhaps even more."

"I never knew," Dumbledore said. "I thought that Petunia's love for her sister was stronger than that."

"Yes, well, sometimes hate and jealousy and fear are bigger than love," Severus said with more than a touch of bitterness.

"It's Lily's love that saved Harry, and," Dumbledore gave him a sad smile, and he placed a gnarled hand on Severus' shoulder, "you, Severus."

Severus scowled at his mentor, and shook his head. It was absurd, the thought that Lily's love had saved him in addition to Potter.

Dumbledore sighed, and squeezed Severus' shoulder. "I don't suppose you'll take an old wizard at his word...Lily loved you, and I know that you loved her, or you wouldn't have come to me when you did," Dumbledore frowned and then smiled. It was puzzling and Severus felt like the floor had been removed from beneath his feet.

"You're a good man, Severus, and I have faith that you can put the past behind you," Dumbledore said. "You'll do right by Harry, if not for Lily, for the boy himself, because you understand."

"Some say you've placed your trust in the wrong people," Severus said. His heart was unaccountably heavy. "What if I disappoint you?"

"You won't," Dumbledore said with such conviction that Severus almost believed that what the wizard had said was the unvarnished truth, and that human foibles such as jealousy and bitter memories wouldn't get in the way of Dumbledore's vision, whatever it was.

With another quick squeeze, Dumbledore released his shoulder, and bid Severus a good night's sleep. It wasn't until a good several hours later that Severus finally managed to fall asleep, and that was to dreams of his childhood - Lily's unfailing love for her sister, and her unfailing trust in him; his father's fists, and angry words; and his mother's love, upholding him through it all.

Severus had never really cared very much about his looks. He knew that he wasn't a handsome man, by any stretch of the imagination, and he had no reason to bait the opposite sex into some ridiculous, farcical, romantic relationship.

Even before he'd lost Lily to Potter, Severus hadn't spent much time in front of the mirror, trying to improve upon his looks. He'd had other, more important endeavors to consider. Besides, he'd known, deep down, that nothing he ever did, as far as his looks were concerned, would ever be good enough.

Instead, he focused on developing a keen intellect and honing his magical abilities. He'd become a wizard to be reckoned with, and had a well-earned reputation, as a hardnosed professor, and as a formidable master of potions.

Potions had come easily to him, as had the dark arts. The former, he could lay at Lily's feet, and the latter, at his drunken, abusive father's. Lily's influence had led him to hope that maybe he could have a future brighter than what his father had dictated through his fists and harsh, demeaning words. In the end, however, it was his father's predicted fate as a, 'good for nothing freak,' that he'd lived out.

Until now.

Severus scowled at his reflection in the mirror. He felt a little like that silly witch in the Muggle fairytale who'd foolishly put her trust in a talking mirror. Vanity was not one of his faults, and he hated that Dumbledore had forced his hand, insisting that he 'clean himself up' a little before meeting his grandfather for dinner that afternoon.

His hair, silky and shiny (thanks to some Muggle shampooing product that had come from Granger), was gathered into a loose ponytail, and his robes were pressed. The Headmaster had even gone so far as to ask the Granger girl what she'd done to improve the condition of her teeth, and had applied a similar charm to Severus' that had not only straightened his teeth (and quite painfully), but had also whitened them.

His normally sallow skin had been treated to some kind of skin cream that had come from Parvati Patil, who thought she was sharing it with the Granger girl. It had some flowery smell to it that made Severus feel queasy. But it, along with all of the other 'beauty' products he'd been plied with, had done their work well.

He looked unnatural, and doubted that it was due to the lighting as Dumbledore had suggested.

Both Weasley and Granger had been, at the Headmaster's discretion, let into the loop, so to speak. Granger had shed some tears at Potter's plight, but had immediately started putting things into motion, conducting research that could have put him and Lily to shame in their years as students at Hogwarts.

Once she'd done her research, she'd been fully onboard with the plan for Severus to officially adopt Potter and elect him as his heir to the Prince name and fortune. She'd somehow managed to convince Weasley that it was a good idea as well. In spite of his desire for Severus to help Potter, Weasley had been highly vocal about why the Headmaster shouldn't allow Snape to adopt his best friend.

After Granger had explained blood adoption, and the magical claims which would protect Potter, Ron been won over (reluctantly), but had still expressed some reservations over Potter's living arrangements. In the end, only the promise that he and Granger could visit the Prince manor at any time they wanted, had swayed the ginger haired wizard.

Oddly enough, it had been Weasley who'd been instrumental in convincing Potter that becoming Severus' heir - Harry James Potter Prince - wouldn't be, "...such a bad thing, living with Snape..." after all. Severus shook his head as he remembered the conversation he'd inadvertently overhead between the two boys when he'd gone to the hospital wing to check up on Potter.

He felt strangely indebted to Weasley for what he'd said to Potter, and wondered what had prompted the boy to consider him, "...not half bad..." and, "...kind of a good guy...for a git..." - though the jury was still out on how many points he would deduct for Weasley's insubordination.

'You're a good wizard, Severus.' Lily kissed him on the cheek, and laughed when he scowled and wiped the remnants of the overly wet kiss off with the palm of his hand.

'And you, Lily, are a delusional witch,' Severus rejoined. 'Easily given to fancy.'

Lily shook her head and reached out to Severus, ignoring his flinch as she tucked a lock of hair behind his ear.

'You're my best friend, you know that, right?' Lily asked.

She'd grown sober, and her green eyes were shining with the truth of her statement. Severus' heart hammered like a madman when she reached forward and pressed her lips to his.

It was a chaste kiss, and it lasted for less than three seconds, he'd counted. It was far different than the playful one she'd placed on his cheek just moments before.

It made his lips tingle, and his toes curl, and he felt like his head had been separated completely from his body. He'd gone from considering Lily as his best friend, to love, in two point five and a half seconds.

Severus shook himself from that memory, and turned away from his reflection. He knew that it hadn't been his greasy hair and crooked nose and teeth which had caused Lily to turn away from him, but, looking at himself now, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd have been able to win her back had he looked like this.

He still wasn't handsome, not like Potter and Black had been, but he probably could have held his own in their company. Looking more like this, and less like the, 'greasy bat of the dungeons,' Severus might have been able to win Lily's hand in marriage. He wondered what Black was up to, and what his plans for Harry Potter were, and he was even more determined to keep the young wizard safe from the deranged Black. It was a foreign feeling for him, caring about what happened to Harry Potter, and he wondered where it was coming from, but he had no time to ponder it now.

"Ah, Severus," Dumbledore's voice boomed across the room when Severus walked out into his living room. "There you are."

If Severus wasn't mistaken, the Headmaster did a double-take when he looked at him. It made him feel more than a little self-conscious, and Severus brushed at his robes.

"Are you ready?"

Severus nodded, but his throat was tight and his mouth was dry. His palms were sweaty, and he really shouldn't be feeling so much like a little kid right now. It was ridiculous, as was the way that Dumbledore was looking at him, like he really was a first year just starting out his academic career at Hogwarts.

"You'll do just fine," Dumbledore assured him, patting him on the shoulder. "And, maybe you'll gain something that you didn't even realize that you wanted."

Severus raised an eyebrow at his mentor, and Dumbledore chuckled in response. "You're a fine young wizard, Severus; don't allow anyone to cause you to believe otherwise."

Severus paced in the foyer of what was to become his new home, provided that he didn't hex or curse his grandfather, or otherwise alienate himself from the aged wizard. He'd apparated, instead of using the Floo. Dumbledore, and the teens (why on earth the Headmaster had decided that they needed to be involved in all of this was beyond him) had insisted that apparating was better as it wouldn't 'soil' his reformed appearance.

The doorman had answered his knock, and now Severus was waiting for his grandfather's welcome. He wasn't nervous about meeting his grandfather, but rather about what he might do to the wizard once he finally set eyes on him.

'Severus, stop pacing, you're going to wear a path in the corridor,' Lily said, placing a hand on his arm.

He ran a hand through his hair, and scowled at her, even as he stopped in his tracks. He was nervous, and had every right to be. Securing an internship with one of the most renowned Potions Masters was something to be nervous about.

'It'll be fine,' Lily insisted.

Severus shook his head. He was only fourteen years old, far too young to be requesting such an audience, but when Lily had encouraged him when he'd told her about it, he'd been hard-pressed to deny her, even though he knew that it was a longshot at best. Yes, he was good at potions, but good enough to be considered for an internship? That, he had doubts about.

An elderly wizard stepped into the faint light of the foyer, causing Severus' memory to flee. At first glance, Severus could see no family resemblance. His grandfather's back was slightly hunched, which, oddly enough, only seemed to emphasis his considerable height. Even with the slight hunch, Prince was a good half foot taller than Severus.

Though he could only see the wizard in profile, Severus could make out the man's crooked nose. The nose that he thought he'd earned from his father's fist was more than likely an inherited trait from the Prince family. The thought made him feel strange, like his childhood memories were twisted and untruthful, making him doubt the memory of the time his father had broken his nose.

"Severus Tobias Snape?" the wizard's question startled him, but he recovered quickly.

Severus raised an eyebrow in response, and struggled not to sneer. Instead, he held his wand hand out, and grasped his grandfather's gnarled hand, shaking it firmly.

"Welcome," Prince said, and he gestured toward the interior of his home. Severus followed, warily eyeing his surroundings. As they walked, the lamps adorning the hallway lit themselves. It was impressive magic, and Severus wondered if it was endemic to the manor itself.

"I'd say, make yourself at home, but..." Prince trailed off with a slight chuckle which sounded more like a hoarse cough. He looked askance at Severus, the trace of a smile on his lips. "I have a feeling that you'd hex me from here until tomorrow if you got the chance."

Severus replied with a tight, almost smile of his own, and inclined his head. His grandfather let out a bark of laughter, and Severus couldn't help but smile in response. He didn't understand why, but he was starting to feel a certain kind of camaraderie with his grandfather. He'd spent most of his life hating the man, and after spending just a few minutes with him, he was starting to like him. It was unnerving, and he shuddered as he thought about Potter. Would adopting the teen have a similar affect on him? Or, was he warming up to his grandfather because of their familial connection? Dumbledore would have a ready answer for him should he ask, of that, Severus was certain.

"The fact that you do not deny it only proves my point," Prince's voice had a sad, wistful note to it. "I only wish that your grandmother could have met you. Though, it was Theodora who contrived to keep us apart all of these years. I am certain that, could she just have met her grandson, things would have turned out differently."

"When did she pass?" Severus asked, breaking his unintentional vow of silence.

"A fortnight ago," Prince said. There was a sad smile playing about his lips, and Severus realized, with a start, that the first letter his grandfather had sent him was on the eve of his grandmother's death. A woman he'd never meet.

"Her passing was peaceful."

"Sorry for your loss." Severus had no idea what else to say.

"I know it doesn't feel much like it, but it was your loss too," Prince said with a sigh. He stood to the side of a doorway, gesturing for Severus to enter before him.

At first glance, it looked to Severus like he'd been brought to a library. There were shelves of books on all four walls, a desk with two stacks of books sat in the middle. There was an armchair across from the desk, and a hard backed chair behind the desk. Severus took the armchair and his grandfather sat opposite him.

"I hope you don't mind the formalities, but I thought we'd take care of business before dinner," Prince said, waving toward a smattering of papers sitting in the middle of the desk. "Then this won't be hanging over our heads as we eat. That is, provided that you've decided to take me up on my offer?"

Severus inclined his head, and looked around the study. It was an impressive room. One that felt a little like...home. It was an unsettling thought, and he cleared his throat a little nervously.

"Yes," Severus said, "and, I've, uh..."

"The heir I've enquired after, you've decided upon one?" Prince eyed him almost coolly. "It was Theodora's condition, not mine, but what's written in magic is written in magic, and it is required for the estate to pass into your hands."

"Why are you doing this?" Severus stood suddenly, and started pacing. His grandfather was not at all he cruel, cold-hearted man he'd envisioned since early childhood. The man who'd turned his back on his daughter and her child.

"Because," Prince's voice was soft and held more than a hint of regret and sorrow in it, "I regret that I did nothing when you were growing up, that I didn't have the courage to stand up to my wife and go against her dictates." He laughed without humor, and Severus turned to look at his grandfather, seeing tears in the man's eyes.

The rest of the evening passed by in a blur for Severus - a blur in which he found that his grandfather's company was rather pleasant, and that he didn't hold the wizard responsible for what had happened. The papers were signed, dinner was eaten, and Severus found himself agreeing to bring Potter and his friends to the manor the next weekend so that Prince could meet his soon to be adopted grandson.

The wizard had indicated that he felt like he didn't have much time left in this world, but that, now that he'd finally set things to right with his sole grandson, he was ready to say his goodbyes.

As Severus was debriefing with Dumbledore later that night, he was surprised to discover that he wasn't ready to let go of his grandfather so soon after just having met him.

"I don't understand it, Albus," Severus said after a particularly long lull in the conversation. "I grew up hating that man with every fiber of my being, and now..."

"And now you are seeing that he was just as flawed as the rest of us," Dumbledore finished with the familiar twinkle in his eye.

"It still doesn't excuse what he did by allowing my grandmother to have the upper hand," Severus said.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Severus, it doesn't. But, I'm sure you, more than most of us, are well aware of how love can be misguiding."

Severus narrowed his eyes at the Headmaster and acknowledged his mentor's words with a terse nod.

"I, too, am well aware of how love can lead one to do great and terrible things," Dumbledore said sadly.

"I still can't believe that all of this is real," Severus said, pinching himself and wincing when it hurt. He'd be bearing a bruise from that proof of reality for some time to come.

"Yes, you're awake, and this is no dream," Dumbledore said dryly. "But, I do believe that it is time that we do retire for the evening. Monday morning will come all too soon, I'm afraid."

Not only did Monday come much too soon, but so did the weekend. The entire week passed by in a veritable whirlwind for Severus, and before he knew it, he was in Dumbledore's office with a slightly trembling Potter standing beside him.

The boy wouldn't look at him, and for some reason, it didn't anger him. Instead, it made him feel...awkward, and like maybe he should do something to ease the boy's anxiety, though he had no idea what that could be. Severus didn't do comfort.

‘Sev,' Lily said in a singsong voice. She slipped her arms around Severus' chest from behind, and rested her chin on his shoulder. "You're borrowing trouble where there isn't any."

She squeezed him, and he pulled her around himself so that he could see into her eyes. Her eyes, the color of emeralds, always served to ground him. They were genuine, and never told lies. He found comfort and strength in their depths.

"I..." Severus blew out a shaky breath and ran his hands through his untidy hair. He was so nervous that he could barely her Lily's voice over the pounding of his own heart.

"Shh," Lily whispered, placing her finger on his lips and smiling. "It'll be alright, you've got nothing to be nervous about."

Severus was jolted from the memory when he felt Potter's hand in his own. The boy's fingers were ice-cold, and they shook with nervous energy. Severus wanted to jerk free from the boy, but they were going to Floo to Prince Manor together, and he realized that the boy didn't want to be holding his hand any more than he wanted to be holding Potter's. Potter had only grabbed Severus' hand at the Headmaster's insistence.

Dumbledore was watching both of them with that ever pleasant twinkle in his eyes, and a thoughtful frown fixed firmly in place. It was unsettling, and Severus wondered what it was that the wizard was thinking.

"Stop fidgeting," Severus commanded, and he gripped the boy's hand tightly.

Potter flinched slightly and took a small step to the side. Though he didn't attempt to remove his hand from Severus', the Potions Master knew that it was taking a lot of strength, and willpower, for the boy not to pull away completely, and he admired that. It was the first time he'd allowed himself to think anything positive with regard to the boy, and it was mildly disconcerting.

Severus drew in a deep breath willing his own frayed nerves to settle. He didn't wish to frighten the boy, but he didn't wish to prolong the handholding either. It felt unnatural, and he hated that he'd inadvertently scared the boy.

‘Severus,' his father snarled, ‘stand up straight, like a man, not like a weak-willed sissy.'

His father's hand was like a vise on his shoulder, and Severus winced as his father's fingers dug deeply into his flesh. He could feel the pressure on his bones, and knew that there would be bruises in the shape of his father's fingers left behind.

Severus straightened his back, though it was hard because his father was pressing down on his shoulder, and he had to push against the pressure. He bit into his tongue, and stuffed the heated words that wanted to slip from his mouth deep down in his mind where he could revisit them later, when his father was finished with him and left him alone.

Severus wondered if his bones would always hold the marks of his father's fingers, even when he grew up to be an old man. His father grabbed him there so often it was a wonder that there weren't permanent indentations left in Severus' shoulder that perfectly matched his father's slender, yet strong fingers.

His father's breath stank of whiskey and cheap tobacco, and it made Severus' stomach twist when his father leaned down, and sneered in his face. It took all of his strength to stand there and not back down from his father.

From a young age, Severus had learned that he needed to tamp down on the urge to lash out at the man he called father. His magic wanted to fight itself free to defend himself, but he kept it tightly under control, knowing that if he lost control of his magic - accidental or not - his father would lose control of his own very loose grip on his temper, and then there'd be more than just a few finger-shaped bruises on his shoulder.

"Harry, I know that you're nervous, and you have every right to be, but this is really for the best," Severus shook his head when the Headmaster's voice broke through his unpleasant reverie, and he swallowed.

The Headmaster had a hand on Potter's shoulder, and Severus frowned. He wondered how hard the Headmaster's grasp was, but suppressed the urge to tell the Headmaster to let go of Potter. He fought for control over the confusing tumult of emotions that were swirling around inside of him, and tucked them away into a far corner of his mind to examine later, when he was alone.

He loosened his grip on Potter's hand, and the boy relaxed fractionally. He hadn't realized that he'd been gripping the boy's hand so tightly. Severus' fingers felt cold and his palms were clammy, and he wanted this weekend to pass by as quickly as the week had, but he doubted that Fate, or Merlin, or whoever it was that was in control of his life, would see fit to make that happen.

"Sorry," Potter said quietly, and he ducked his head.

"There is nothing to be sorry for," Severus snapped, and he winced at the harsh tone of his voice. "It's only natural that you are nervous."

Potter flushed, and he visibly shook. His jaw tensed, and Severus awaited an explosion that never came. The windows in Dumbledore's office rattled, and Fawkes' perch knocked against the window frame, but then both stilled, and Severus marveled at the amount of control that Potter had over his accidental magic. It was probably something that, under the dubious care of the Dursleys, he'd had to learn to control at an early age, though, from what he'd heard from Dumbledore, Potter couldn't always rule his magic.

"It's time," Dumbledore said, and then he stepped away from the fireplace, and Severus and Potter stepped forward.

Severus tossed the Floo Powder into the flames, and stepped into the fireplace, drawing Potter along with him. He called out their destination in a loud, clear voice, and closed his eyes against the spinning. He hated traveling by Floo, and, judging by the way that Harry landed on his hands and knees, glasses askew, Severus doubted that the boy liked it any better than he did.

The butler, a Squib by the name of Gary, took their trunks and showed them to their rooms. Potter's was directly across from his, and Severus was grateful for the foresight that his grandfather had shown, even though the wizard had yet to greet them.

Potter looked a little lost, standing in the middle of his new room, and Severus watched from the hallway as the boy surveyed the room. His trunk had been laid at the foot of a four poster bed that could easily have fit ten Potters, and then some. Severus' bed was just as big, and, as he glanced down the hallway, he wondered how many of the rooms held equally large beds.

"Master Prince is awaiting you in the library," Gary said, and he ducked away with a quick bow.

Severus didn't even notice the Squib take his leave of them, because his eyes were fixed on Potter who seemed to be warring with powerful emotions. The foremost of which was disbelief, and though it was nearly imperceptible, there was fear present as well. Fear was something that Severus was intimately familiar with, and, though he didn't want to admit it, he could understand what Potter was thinking

"Potter, Master Prince is awaiting our arrival," Severus said in a quiet, unobtrusive voice.

Potter jumped, and spun around, his fingers trailing along the edge of an ornately carved desk. His eyes widened, and he quickly clasped his hands together in front of him as though afraid that Severus was going to smack them for touching the furniture.

"I..." Potter's voice stuck in his throat, and he clamped his mouth shut. "I didn't mean to..." he trailed off and his eyes veered toward the desk that he'd been admiring. "I know it's not really mine, Sir. I shouldn't have..."

"Potter, what part of this do you not understand?" Severus knew that his voice was sharp, and that he was scaring the boy who backed away from his approach until he could go no further when his hip slammed into the desk. Severus inwardly cursed, and he stopped in his tracks. He should have known better, but he was new to this, and, once more, he wished that there was someone else who could take over Potter's care.

"This room is yours," Severus said when Potter had regained control of his breathing. "You are free to touch every inch of it, and make it your own."

Potter considered his words and nodded once. His expression, for once, was unreadable, and Severus sighed. This was going to be much harder than he'd thought it would, and he had thought that it would be impossible for him to learn to set aside his hatred of James Potter, and for Potter to learn to trust him as his guardian.

"Come, we shouldn't leave our host waiting," Severus said, and he turned and walked out of the room, expecting Potter to follow.

"Sir?"

Severus counted to five before answering. "Potter?"

"Um, how should I address our host?" Potter sounded woefully nervous and timid, not at all like the defiant, insolent child that he was at school. It was clear to Severus that the boy felt very much out of his element, and he could understand that as he felt the same way.

"You can address me as Mr. Prince, or as grandfather," the man in question stepped out into the hallway, and startled the both of them.

Potter jumped about a foot, and glared at Severus, as though what had happened had been his fault. Severus glared back at the boy, and then turned to glare at his grandfather, who was regarding the both of them with a look that reminded Severus of Dumbledore when he knew the secret to a riddle that no one even knew existed. It was unnerving.

"That is, if you wouldn't mind giving an old man the honor," Prince said, and he held his hand out to Potter who eyed it warily before accepting the handshake.

Severus could tell that Prince wanted to make it into something more, and he wondered at the old wizard's eagerness to adopt Potter into his family. He shook off a momentary flare of jealousy, and followed Prince and Potter into the library where he'd signed his grandfather's will over a week ago.

"Forgive me, Severus, Harry," Prince said, once he'd settled himself behind his desk, "for not greeting you when you first arrived. I thought it best to let you get settled into your rooms first."

"That's quite alright," Severus answered for the both of them.

He kept a close eye on Potter, who wasn't looking at either of them, but at some spot on his school robes, which, now that Severus was truly looking at the boy, he discovered were worn and tattered around the edges.

Had the boy not worn his best robes as he'd been instructed? Or were these his best robes? Severus bit down on his anger, and fought to keep yet another memory of his childhood from surfacing.

‘Severus, don't worry so much,' Lily chastised, smoothing down the wrinkled material of Severus' robes as she spoke.

‘It's hard not to worry when my best robes are ragged and torn and...' Severus' rant was cut short by a firm, yet gentle tap from Lily on the back of his head. Severus scowled at her and rubbed the back of his head. ‘Ouch.'

He hated that he never had enough money to buy new robes or books. His father refused to give him any money, or finance his education in any way. Severus had to make do with castoffs that were donated by students when they outgrew their robes, or no longer needed their books. It was something that he knew other students, like Potter and Black, looked down on him for.

‘Stop being such a baby, and hold still.' Lily's lips were pursed, and she pointed her wand at Severus' robes, and started muttering an incantation that Severus couldn't quite make out. His robes began to knit themselves together before his eyes, and he blinked at the young witch who, even though she was Muggle-born, had taken to magic like a duck to water.

His lips twisted upward in a smile, but Lily shrugged off his thanks with a muttered, ‘It was nothing,' and a blush which made her eyes look like they were glowing beacons of kindness and light.

Severus swallowed hard, and blinked to free himself from the memory. He didn't understand why his childhood was resurfacing now, after all these years. He'd gone to great pains to keep those memories under lock and key, but it was like someone had breached his defenses, and was setting them free. Severus didn't like it one bit, and he wondered if Dumbledore was somehow behind it.

The obvious reason for the resurfacing memories, that it was because he'd learned of Potter's abuse at the hands of the Dursleys, was not something that Severus could buy into. He knew that Dumbledore was a manipulative wizard, and that he was constantly holding out hope that Severus would be able to let go of his hatred for James Potter, Black, Pettigrew and Lupin, and that he'd see the younger Potter, and other Gryffindors, in a better light.

Years of abuse at the hands of his peers, however, were not easily dismissed. Adopting Potter was not going to suddenly make Severus forget what he'd suffered, or how James Potter, and his cronies had done their damnedest to make his years at Hogwarts a living hell. How they'd practically pushed them into the arms of the Dark Lord, much as his father had.

"I hope that you like your room," Prince was saying to Potter. "If you don't, you're welcome to any room in the manor, aside from my own." He looked almost as nervous as Potter did.

Potter's eyes shot up to meet Prince's, and he shook his head. "No, sir, the room, it's...it's great. I mean, I didn't really expect to have my own room or anything like that. At the Dursleys', I..."

Prince's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "Tell me about these Dursleys. They're your family?"

Potter drew himself up in the plush chair until his back was rim rod straight, and he seemed to grow pale under his soon to be adopted great grandfather's curious gaze. He started fiddling with a loose thread on his robes, no doubt to mask the way that his hands had started to tremble.

"Uh, there's not much to tell," Potter said quietly, shrugging. "Sir," he tacked on, and glanced nervously in Severus' direction, no doubt expecting to be scolded for his impertinence.

"Prince, or grandfather will be just fine," Prince corrected, his smile taking away the bite of his words.

Potter returned Prince's smile and relaxed a fraction. "They, they..." Potter blinked and frowned and bit his bottom lip. "They fed and clothed me and put a roof over my head."

Severus resisted the urge to snort in derision. Potter could have been describing the duties of a family toward a dog, or some wayward waif, rather than a beloved relative.

Prince frowned and shot a look at Severus which Severus acknowledged with a slight incline of his head. The wizard's eyes were filled with smoldering fire, and Severus knew that they'd be talking about Potter before the night was over.

No doubt the elder wizard was planning some sort of comeuppance for the Dursleys. Not that Severus was opposed to such a thing himself. The Dursleys, as any family who abused someone in their care, deserved to face consequences for what they'd done. Abusing a child was not something that anyone should get away with, and he wondered what kind of consequences the wizarding world would be imposing upon the Dursleys for abusing the Boy Who Lived.

"I see," Prince said when Potter chose not to elaborate.

He cleared his throat and then clapped his hands. A short, well-dressed house elf popped into the room, and Prince whispered something into its ear. The house elf's eyes rounded comically, and she bobbed her head up and down and practically shivered with what Severus assumed was delight as there was a bright smile on her face. The house elf disappeared, and Prince returned his gaze to Potter.

"That was Misty," Prince explained. "You'll have to excuse her exuberance. She's excited that we've got guests in our home once again. I've just assigned her to your care, Harry. You don't mind if I call you Harry, do you? Or would you prefer Master Potter?"

Potter blushed. "Oh, no, Harry's just fine, sir, er, Mr. Prince." He ducked his head, and pulled at the thread in his robes.

Not really thinking, Severus placed a stilling hand on Potter's, and just as quickly removed it when the boy stiffened and jerked his hand away as though he'd been burned. He shot Severus a dread filled look, and Severus did his best to smooth things over by giving the boy what he hoped was an actual smile rather than his usual sneer.

Judging by the way that Prince's brow furrowed in concern and the wizard frowned between the both of them, Severus knew that Potter's unease with him had not gone unnoticed. The wizard kept his counsel to himself, but Severus knew that, once Potter was asleep, Prince would be questioning him about everything. He was not looking forward to it.

"Sir," Potter said, leaning forward in his chair, "you don't need to, that is, I don't really need a house elf."

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes when Potter seemed even more tongue-tied than usual. He shook his head and sat back to see how his grandfather would handle this. He doubted that scolding Potter for being ungrateful would go over well for any of them.

"Harry, Misty has been looking forward to this weekend almost as much as I have," Prince said, and there was a twinkle in his eye as he leaned closer to Potter. "She'd be put out if she was unable to serve you. Now, if you wish for anything, and I do mean anything, just clap your hands twice, and Misty will come to you. She's keyed herself to your magical signature, and is more than happy to aid you in anything."

"But, I don't need a servant," Potter said, and his cheeks puffed in and out in anger. "I am more than capable of taking care of myself."

"Potter," Severus hissed, no longer caring if his grandfather thought him harsh or uncaring, or thought it odd that he referred to the boy as Potter as opposed to his given name.

Severus placed his hand on Potter's arm and ignored the way that Potter's muscles bunched and clenched beneath his hand. He wasn't gripping the boy too hard, just hard enough to let Potter know that he was still there, and for Potter to shoot a look of anger in his direction, rather than Prince's.

"That will be quite enough," Severus said evenly. "House elves are more than happy to serve wizards and witches, who are kind and fair, and there is no doubt in my mind, nor is there doubt in Mr. Prince's mind, that you will be fair and kind to Misty. If there was doubt, she would not have been charged with your care or you with hers."

Potter's eyes, dark green pools of swirling fear and confusion, searched Severus' for a moment, and then he relaxed and nodded. He turned to look at Prince, and, with a crooked smile, he scratched the back of his head, and apologized.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to be disrespectful or anything. I'm just not used to...well, any of this."

Severus kept his hand in place on Potter's arm, and found that it no longer felt awkward. He looked up to find that Prince was watching him with an unfathomable look on his face - something like longing, and regret, and joy, all warring with each other.

"That's quite understandable. As I understand it, you grew up with Muggles?"

It was clear to Severus that Prince was fishing for more information about the Dursleys, and he couldn't blame the wizard for trying. He hoped that Prince would have more success than Pomfrey, Dumbledore, Potter's friends and he had had. The boy, for all of his pomp, was close-lipped about his family.

Potter nodded, and when Severus cleared his throat, he muttered a quick, "Yes, sir."

"So, house elves are something of a novelty, then," Prince stated.

"I only know of the one," Potter acknowledged, "and he almost got me kicked out of Hogwarts."

Severus groaned and hid his face in between his fingers as Prince asked the obvious, and Potter launched into the tale of Dobby the house elf whom he'd freed during his second year. Much to Severus' surprise, Potter skipped over certain details that he thought that the boy would capitalize upon, and downplayed his role in the rescue of the Weasley girl. Prince's uproarious laughter at Potter's escapades as he told his tale was even more surprising, but then again, the boy had spun the story in such a way that none of the horrors he and his friends had faced were mentioned with any great detail.

Severus, himself, found the boy's rendition of what had been a rather horrifying ordeal, to be entertaining, and found himself shaking his head and smiling from time to time. Listening to Potter talk like this inevitably reminded him of Lily, who had been an amazing, and enchanting story-teller in her own right.

If Severus recalled correctly, James Potter had been talented in the gift of story-telling as well, so it was something that no doubt came to Potter naturally, much as his affinity for thwarting rules and challenging authority. That was something Potter shared with both of his parents as well. As much as Severus liked to attribute Potter's more dislikable attributes to his obnoxious father, he had to concede that Lily was equally, if not more, defiant than James Potter had been.

By the time dinner had rolled around, Potter and Prince were much more comfortable in each other's presence - almost as thick as thieves, Severus thought with a frown as he listened to his grandfather tell a tale from his own youth that had Potter laughing fit to split his sides. Severus realized, belatedly, that he had not taken his hand off of Potter's arm and removed it with a start when Gary led them from the library to the dining room. The fact that Potter hadn't bothered to shrug his hand off was more than just a little shocking.

"Severus," Prince broke through his thoughts, and Severus gave him a half smile. "You didn't tell me that, young Harry here was such a delightful young man."

Severus ignored the comical look of trepidation that Potter shot him, and said, in a dry voice, "I do apologize grandfather; Potter's ability to spin such fine tales must have escaped my attention." He gave Potter a wry smile, and likewise ignored the laugh that Potter tried unsuccessfully to disguise as a cough.

The sudden brightness in Prince's eyes and the way that the man embraced him took Severus completely off-guard until he thought back through what he'd said, and realized that he'd unintentionally called the wizard, grandfather.  Potter was giving him a thoughtful look as well, but he looked away when he saw that Severus noticed.

Dinner was a somewhat subdued affair. From the wide-eyed looks that Potter kept shooting in his, and Prince's direction, it was clear to Severus that the boy was not used to such elaborate dinners - he watched the both of them covertly to see which utensil he should use next. Severus was ill-used to such fancy dinners as well.

Hogwarts didn't hold such extravagant meals, not even during holidays, and Severus doubted that the boy's family had hosted such meals. His own family hadn't had the means, the estranged Princes aside. Severus wasn't certain which utensils went with which dishes either, and felt completely out of his element.

Severus knew by the look on Potter's face that the boy was more than a little overwhelmed, and Severus couldn't blame him. He was overwhelmed, too. It was clear to Severus that Prince had gone to great extremes in an effort to impress Potter, and quite possibly himself.

He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about all of it, but Severus doubted that he was supposed to be angry. At first, he wasn't sure why he was angry, but then, when he looked at his grandfather - the great and regal Severus Prince that his mother had spoken of so lovingly over the years - smiling and talking with Potter as though they'd known each other forever, Severus realized that he'd been robbed.

This easy camaraderie that Severus' grandfather had with Potter should have been his. It should have been Severus, not Potter, who'd been rescued from an abusive family. Severus should not have had to suffer through seemingly endless years of bruises, broken bones, and verbal abuse, all because his grandfather didn't have the backbone to stand up to his overbearing wife.

Severus was so angry that he almost couldn't see straight, and it was all he could do to remain civil and listen to Prince and Potter talk about boyhood memories. Potter's tales were largely lies, Severus recognized that, and it made him sick to think that Potter would orchestrate fabricated stories to please a complete stranger, no matter that the man was going to be his adoptive grandfather in a few weeks' time.

Maybe, if his grandfather had stood up to his grandmother and opened up the line of communications with his daughter, Severus' life would have turned out differently. Maybe he'd have had a chance with Lily, and, maybe he, rather than James Potter, would have been Harry's father.

It was a dizzying train of thought and Severus was finding it difficult to make it stop. Had Severus Prince had the balls to stand up to his wife, Severus would never have turned to the Dark Lord. No amount of money, or apologies would make up for what Severus had suffered over the years.

Severus' childhood had been stolen from him, and he was angry because his grandfather was finally stepping up to the plate, except it was over two decades too late for Severus. Severus turned to look at Potter, and was struck by how young the boy looked, how much he took after Lily, who would have eventually warmed up to the elder Prince much as Potter had.

Potter was much too open, and trusting. He had taken to Prince much quicker than he should have, and Severus knew that he'd have to teach the boy how dangerous it could be to trust others when they hadn't earned that trust.

As Severus watched the ease with which Potter conversed with Prince, he was shaken to the core as he realized that, contrary to Dumbledore's contention that he disliked Potter because he was still holding a grudge against James, he was jealous of the boy. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off an oncoming headache.

"Severus, are you alright?" Prince turned his attention to his grandson, a slight frown marring his features.

Severus had to stifle the biting remark that was just on his tongue, and he nodded instead. "I'm fine; it's been a long week."

"I apologize for monopolizing the evening with boyhood tales." Prince gave Severus an assessing look, and he sighed. "I've been playing this night over and over in my mind, since before we even met, and it seems to me that I've gotten carried away. I'm sorry Severus. I know that I can't undo the past, though I wish to Merlin that I could. If I could have, I would have gone against Theodora's wishes and visited my little girl, and her son. I would never have let things get so...out of hand."

Potter snuck a look at Severus beneath his eyelashes, and Severus held himself in check. He didn't understand why his emotions were so out of control. He'd always kept a tight rein on them. He'd had to, from a very young age. With Potter looking at him like that - as though waiting for a cue from him as to what an appropriate reaction to such a confession should be.

It was very daunting, having Potter look to him for answers. Like a son to his father. Severus was shaking, though he doubted that Prince or Potter could see the slight tremors. He was angry and jealous and aching for something that he refused to put a name to.

He wanted Dumbledore. He wanted his mother. Severus almost laughed out loud at that. He hadn't wanted his mother like this for years now.

He wanted to be somewhere else. Another time, another place. Hell, he wanted another life. The life that he could have had, had Prince not let his wife reign supreme.

"For what it's worth, Severus, I am sorry." Prince's voice was thick with sorrow, and Potter was looking back and forth between the both of them.

Severus could tell that the boy was uncomfortable, and he wondered if Petunia and his uncle had ever argued in front of him, like Severus' mother and father had.

‘Tobias, stop it, you're scaring him!'

Severus had his hands clamped tightly over his ears, but he could still hear his mother's high pitched voice as he huddled in a corner of the kitchen. His mother was pointing in his direction, and she was scaring him almost as much as his father was.

His father, paying no heed to her words, slapped her across the face and sent her stumbling into the edge of the counter. Severus shut his eyes, because he hoped that if he couldn't see what his father was doing to his mother, then maybe it wasn't happening. Maybe he could pretend, or magic it all away. He rocked back and forth, waiting for the sound of shouting and slapping, and screaming to go away.

‘I should never have left home to be with you!'

The sounds of his parents fighting always hurt his ears, and tore at his heart. He hated when they fought. They always said mean, horrible things to each other and it made Severus want to disappear, or be swallowed into the ground. He hated hearing his mother's terrified and angry shouts and his father's loud, loud voice, and the meaty sounds that flesh striking flesh made.

‘You're nothing but a useless slut and a whore!'

In an attempt to drown out the shouting, Severus hummed to himself. He pretended that he was far, far away in a place where no one shouted, no one raised a fist or a belt to anyone, and where he was loved.

Severus closed his eyes against the memory, and struggled to push the accompanying emotions back down where they belonged. Emotions only brought trouble and pain, and Severus had vowed, from a very young age, that he wouldn't give into them. The emotions, however, refused to be banished, and so Severus was forced to deal with them.

He made the mistake of looking at Potter when he opened his eyes, and Severus could see emotions welling in the boy's green orbs. He really did have Lily's eyes. Understanding and pain were reflected in them. It was too much for Severus, and he had to look away.

His grandfather's eyes held shame and sorrow, and Severus felt his carefully constructed walls crumbling under the onslaught of all of these unveiled emotions. Eyes really are the window to the soul, Severus thought numbly, and he wondered what his grandfather and Potter had read in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, sir," Potter said. "I should have remembered not to talk during dinner. I, I just forgot."

Severus' eyes snapped to Potter's, and he had to quash the desire to shout at the boy. "Potter," he said in a quiet, yet firm voice, "you have nothing to be sorry for. It is perfectly acceptable to participate in conversation while at the dinner table, no matter what your ill-informed relatives told you to the contrary."

Potter nodded in response, but dropped his eyes to the tabletop. "I didn't mean to talk so much, though, sir. It's just..."

"You were enjoying yourself, Potter," Severus said, and there was no acrimony in his voice. Potter raised his eyes once again, and Severus gave him a slight smile which, for some reason, made Potter frown. "There is no crime in that."

"But," Potter opened his mouth to protest, and closed it with an audible clack of teeth when Severus raised an eyebrow in response.

"You do not need to apologize for talking or enjoying yourself. And," Severus turned to look at his grandfather who was watching his interaction with Potter with a keen interest.

Severus took a deep breath. There were a million things he wanted to say to Severus Prince, and yet only one thing that needed to be said.

"I'm sorry, too," he said, and his eyes never wavered from his grandfather's, even though it hurt to look into them. "I'm sorry that you couldn't find it in yourself to stand up to your wife, and end the charade of hurt and forced estrangement that she perpetrated over the years. I'm sorry that I never got the chance to know you when I was a child, and that you didn't save my mom and me from my father."

Severus swallowed the rest of the words that insisted they wanted to be heard, and finally wrangled his emotions under some semblance of control. He'd revealed far more than he'd intended to. He hadn't wanted Potter to hear any of that, and was surprised to find that, instead of staring at him with a gaping mouth, or shaking his head in pity, Potter was favoring Prince with a look of ill-suppressed anger.

"I never knew," Prince whispered. He sounded old and tired and horrified.

Potter's eyes flashed, and Severus saw Lily reflected clearly in the way her son squared his shoulders and firmed his jaw.

"The Dursleys didn't feed me much, and when they did, it wasn't enough," Potter said in a much too quiet voice, his mouth twisting in a grimace, as though he wasn't quite in control of what his mouth was saying, and Severus could sympathize.

"I was always hungry. Uncle Vernon didn't like me much, and Aunt Petunia, she never loved me. Dudley saw me as nothing more than a punching bag," Potter paled, and it looked like he wanted to stop talking, but his mouth refused to listen.

"When I was a little boy, I used to sit in my cupboard and make believe that I had a family that loved me." Potter smiled slightly, and he had a faraway look in his eyes. "I'd pretend that I had a mother and a father who would take me away from my aunt and uncle, or that maybe I had some other relative who would save me from their hurtful words, fists and frying pans. But," he looked directly at Prince, "that never happened, because, for me, there is no one else."

"Potter." Severus wasn't sure what to say, or how to respond to what the boy had divulged.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Prince said, and he reached across the table, enveloping one of Potter's fists with his hand. "I'm sorry that no one rescued you."

Potter raised tear-filled eyes to Prince, and he shook his head. "You should have saved him," he said quietly, and he jerked his chin in Severus' direction.

Shocked at Potter's response, Severus could only stare at the boy.

"I didn't know," Prince said, and to Severus the words sounded hollow.

"You should have known," Potter said, in the way that made him seem much older than he was. Potter's ire on his behalf was something that Severus would never have anticipated, and Severus wasn't sure what to think.

To Severus' immense surprise, Prince was nodding. "You're right, Harry, I should have known. I should never have turned a blind eye to what was happening to my daughter and my grandson. I should not have let my wife keep them from me."

"We can't change the past," Severus said, breaking an almost oppressive silence that had filled the dining room.

Prince shook himself, and released Potter's fist. "No, no we can't."

"But," Severus said slowly, unsure where the words were coming from, "we can move on, and learn from the past."

There was a part of Severus that didn't really want to do that. It was the same part of him which seemed hell-bent on insisting that Potter was nothing more than a miniature version of his horrid, obnoxious father.

Prince smiled, and reached for Severus' hand. Severus wasn't an overly affectionate man, and was definitely not given to overt, physical displays of love or the like, but he let his grandfather squeeze his hand, and he saw that Potter allowed the same.

It was an eerie sort of revelation that made Severus' head spin when he realized that Prince was, in a way, binding Potter and he together - creating a strange, familial link between the three of them with his gnarled hands. Severus was hit in the gut with the realization that this is what Dumbledore had been hoping for when he'd encouraged Severus to answer his grandfather's entreaty. He wondered if Dumbledore didn't know more about Potter's treatment at the Dursleys' than he was letting on, and if it was out of a sense of shame that the man was practically throwing Potter at Severus', and his estranged grandfather's feet.

If that was the case, the Headmaster had a lot to answer for, and Severus was not going to simply let something like this drop. No child deserved to live with relatives that abused him, not when it was in the power of another to take that child out of it. He, like the Headmaster, was duty-bound to keep children safe from harm.

"So," Prince said, and he cleared his throat, releasing their hands. "How about some dessert?"

And, just like that, the heaviness which had settled over them was broken, like a spell, and Potter was back to smiling, and laughing at his soon to be adoptive great grandfather's stories, and Severus was wondering how he was going to tame this onslaught of emotions, before it got the best of him.

Their latest visit to the Prince Manor had revealed a lot about Harry's life with the Dursleys that Severus had only guessed at - the anguish, and pain that the boy had felt - how it had mirrored Severus' own childhood pain. Though he didn't want to admit it, and would rather forego this entirely, Severus felt that this latest outpouring of Harry's abuse at the hands of the Dursleys necessitated another talk with the Headmaster.

Severus wasn't sure that confronting Dumbledore with the thought that had been niggling at him ever since he'd heard Harry reluctantly pouring out his tale of abuse to Weasley, was the right thing to do, but, here he was, sitting across from his mentor, and Dumbledore was watching him, a small smile playing about his lips. He'd asked the Headmaster if he knew that Harry was being abused, and, Dumbledore had told him that he hadn't, but the thought that Dumbledore wasn't being perfectly honest with him wouldn't leave him, and Severus had never been good at letting things go.

Now that he was Harry's guardian, it was something that Severus couldn't afford to let go. So, when the Headmaster repeated what he'd said, before Severus had taken the boy to see his grandfather, before the adoption, Severus couldn't help but feel a little angry.

"You expect me to believe that, all this time, you didn't know that Harry was being mistreated by his relatives." Severus leaned forward in his seat, steepling his fingers and holding Dumbledore's eyes with a steely-eyed look, much as the elder wizard had done to him on too many occasions for him to count.

Dumbledore looked away first and Severus leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. Though it was a victory, it was a hollow one at best. If anything, it left Severus feeling older, and more tired than he had been just a few minutes ago, when he'd decided to confront his mentor.

"In truth," Dumbledore said, after a pause. He cleared his throat and then nodded.

"In truth, Severus, I knew that Harry was not happy with the Dursleys. I chose to believe that he was a child given to exaggeration, much like James and Lily were. I guess you could say that I ... turned a blind eye, and a deaf ear to Harry's situation. I didn't want to admit that Minerva had been right, that they were the worst sort of Muggles, and that Lily and James' little boy shouldn't have been left with them in the first place."

Severus bit his tongue, though it was hard for him to do, especially when Dumbledore shook his head and chuckled in a self-deprecating manner. When the wizard looked at Severus, the typical twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes was greatly diminished, not quite, but almost, snuffed out.

"Instead of investigating when I heard rumors of Harry's less than ideal upbringing, I chose to save face," Dumbledore said, in a flat voice. "I didn't want to be proven wrong." The last part of Dumbledore's confession was whispered.

"So, all of this time, you've been claiming not to have known what was happening to Harry, to, in essence," Severus can't keep the acrimony from dripping, like acid, from his voice, "cover your ass."

Dumbledore blinked, and frowned. Severus saw that his words had gotten beneath Dumbledore's normally unflappable exterior, unsettling him and he can't help but count that as a minor victory. He knew that he was being childish, and Severus didn't care.

Severus picked at an invisible piece of lint on his robes and waited out the less than comfortable silence, listening to the chair creak as Dumbledore shifted around in it, trying to get comfortable in the, 'hot seat,' a Muggle term that Severus had heard somewhere, a long time ago.

That he's rendered the Headmaster speechless is not exactly the crowning achievement to his day, but it does go far toward easing some of Severus' own discomfort and guilt at having been blinded by his hatred for Harry's father. He, more than most, should have seen the signs, but he hadn't.

"Severus," Lily called to him, but he kept walking, not wanting to see his best friend right now. He couldn't bear to have her look at him, not now, not with the guilt of what he hadn't done, and what he hadn't said, written across his face.

"Severus, wait up," Lily sounded angry, and that was something that Severus could handle. It's what he deserved after what he'd done.

He let her catch up to him, just stopped walking, didn't bother to turn around to face her, knowing that, soon enough, he'd be facing her, seeing his guilt through the clarity of her eyes, the color of clear, green jade. He stood still, not even flinching when her hand landed on his shoulder. He kept his eyes locked on the ground, not yet wanting to have his guilt broadcast back to him, mirrored in Lily's eyes.

"Severus, look at me," Lily said. Her voice was soft, no longer angry, not accusatory. Just soft, and kind, and worried.

He raised his eyes, fearful of losing her whether he met her gaze or not. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, when she pulled him into a hug, and simply held him.

"It wasn't your fault," she said, running her fingers through his hair, unmindful of the unkempt, greasy state of it. "What happened wasn't your fault. You didn't know."

He swallowed, blinked back tears of anger and hate and pain. "I should have," he whispered, feeling guilty for enjoying the way her fingers felt as they combed at his hair, soothing, when he should, instead, feel nothing but pain and sorrow and guilt.

"There's no way you could have known," Lily insisted.

"But..."

Hot tears pricked at the back of his eyes. He didn't want to cry. It wasn't his place, not when he was partly at fault for his friend's death, not when he hadn't lifted a hand to stop Barren from doing what he'd done, not when he hadn't taken his friend seriously when he'd said that he couldn't take it anymore, that, he was going to end it all.

Severus hadn't known. He hadn't, but he should have.

"Hush, now," Lily said, pressing her lips to his forehead. "Hush, Severus. I've got you. It's not your fault."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, jarring Severus from the memory of a moment he'd truly forgotten until just then. It had been well over a decade since he'd thought of Barren, and his friend's suicide, and the guilt of it, Lily's comfort and words aside, still burned in his gut.

"I suppose so," Dumbledore said in a small, thin voice, and it took Severus a moment to remember what it was they had been talking about, that he'd accused the Headmaster of doing something, or rather, in this case, doing nothing, to 'cover his ass,' - another lovely Muggle term that fit many a situation, Muggle or Wizard created.

"That is," Dumbledore took a deep breath and let it out as though he was releasing something more than just air, "one way of putting it. I was wrong. I should have listened to Arabella Figg when she first came to me with her concerns that young Harry was being mistreated by his relatives, and I should never have dismissed Harry's misgivings about returning to his relatives during the summer months."

Hearing Dumbledore admit that he was wrong doesn't make Severus happy. It has quite the opposite effect, actually. It leaves him feeling a little cold and out-of-place, like a small child who's gotten his fingers smashed in a windowsill.

It hurt, because Severus realized that, if Dumbledore suspected that Harry was being abused, and did nothing to intervene, how many more wizarding children had Dumbledore similarly turned a blind eye to? - himself included.

Had Dumbledore known that Severus, and Black and so many other children were being abused and simply pretended not to notice so that he wouldn't stir up trouble, or because he wanted to procure a position of authority, unsullied by unearthing dark deeds that people kept behind closed doors? It was incomprehensible, and Severus didn't like where his thoughts were taking him.

"I didn't know," Dumbledore said, almost as though he was speaking to himself. "I didn't want to know. I didn't want to admit that I'd made a mistake, and that I'd caused Harry so much pain as a result of it. It was nothing more than stubborn pride, and..."

"And you'd have let it go on if I hadn't happened upon Potter reluctantly confiding in Weasley," Severus finished tiredly, suddenly weary of it all.

Dumbledore nodded. "I thought it was for the best that he grow up outside of wizarding circles, that he not be spoiled or brought up a celebrity. I was worried that it would go to his head."

Uncannily, these were all of the things that Severus had thought true of Potter before their most recent visit to Prince's where the boy had come to his defense.

"I suppose, in that one regard, your placement of Potter superseded expectations." Severus didn't regret the barb until it was well out of his mouth and the shock of it registered on the Headmaster's face.

"Had I known the extent of their abuse toward Harry, I would have had him removed from their care," Dumbledore's voice was a soft rumble.

Severus knew it to be true, but it didn't excuse the Headmaster from ignoring the signs, and not listening to the boy, or Arabella when they'd both expressed their concerns.

Severus fisted his hands in his lap, hoping that the gesture would help him keep his anger in check as he suddenly realized the full extent of Dumbledore's duplicity. "So, when my grandfather started this latest correspondence..."

Dumbledore noded, and cut him off with a wave of his hand. "I pushed you to reconcile, hoping to right, at least two, of my many wrongs."

"At least two?" Severus could feel his eyebrow twitching.

He had no idea why Dumbledore felt responsible for his own unhappy childhood, because the wizard hadn't taken a special interest in Severus when he was a student at Hogwarts, not like he'd taken an interest in Harry's life from when the boy was an infant.

"I knew that your home life was not ideal, Severus." Dumbledore's eyes clouded over, and he placed a gnarled hand on the desk, resting it between them.

"I knew it, but I didn't do anything to help you. It wasn't what we did back then. Understand," Dumbledore pierced Severus with a stern look, and lifted a finger to forestall an argument that Severus didn't have in him."I'm not making excuses. And, if I had it to do over again, Severus, I would not follow the protocols of our times. I would have listened. I would have helped. I would have intervened."

Severus shook his head. "And yet, here we are, three decades later." Severus raised his hands. "Nothing's changed. You're still turning a blind eye, and a deaf ear to child abuse, and the times and protocols have changed. It's not just Potter. It wasn't just me. There are others. This can't continue."

Dumbledore took a deep breath, and nodded. "You're right, Severus."

"I know I'm right," Severus said, leaning forward, peering into his mentor's eyes. "I know I'm right, but will that change anything?"

"Have I ever been anything other than a man of my word?" Dumbledore's voice was sad, hurt, but Severus refused to give into the desire he had to placate the man as he would have in the past.

It wasn't what was needed right now, because there were other students who needed to be rescued, like Harry, like Barren, like Black, like him. There were other children being abused, and Dumbledore didn't need, nor deserve Severus' sympathy. What Dumbledore needed was to open his eyes, and meddle where meddling needed doing, as opposed where it didn't.

"No, Headmaster, you haven't," Severus said after a long pause, knowing that using his mentor's title would shake the wizard sitting before him, more than anything else, in tone or word, would.

"I suppose that, after what I've done, I deserve that," Dumbledore said.

Severus wanted to say, that, no, it wasn't what Dumbledore had done that had caused him to lose some of the respect, not all of it, that he'd had for the elder wizard, but rather what Dumbledore hadn't done. Instead, he stood, and, saying nothing, he left, letting what was unsaid hang heavy in the air between them, knowing that Dumbledore would think about what was and was not said for a long time to come, and that they would talk again, and again, until this was resolved to the Headmaster's satisfaction, and until Severus felt that he could once more trust his mentor.

Severus watched Potter bid his friends goodbye for winter break with only mild trepidation for the weeks ahead. Black was still a threat, thereby shutting Hogwarts down to students for the winter break, and fear for Potter’s, as well as his friend’s lives, had kept Severus and the other professors at Hogwarts, on edge.

  The adoption had gone through without a hitch – both Severus and Harry’s remaining misgivings notwithstanding – the ceremony had been conducted by a wizard from the Wizengamot, witnessed by the Weasely boy, the Granger girl, and at Harry’s request, Dumbledore. It had been a subdued affair, though Prince had hosted a grand dinner for the intimate gathering afterwards.

  Both Potter and Prince were ecstatic about spending the Christmas holiday together. Severus just hoped that he’d survive the holiday with his sanity intact.

  Prince and Potter were like two peas in a pod. They’d both been reluctant to meet each other, but one wouldn’t know it to look at them now. Prince had been worried that Potter wouldn’t like him, and Potter had worried that Prince wouldn’t want him. Severus had found it all rather annoying, especially when the two had hit it off almost from the moment they met.

  “Potter,” Severus called, not unkindly, and he watched as Potter’s shoulders drooped. The boy turned toward him and shuffled his feet as he waved goodbye to his friends. Severus rolled his eyes, wondering if things between them would get better, as Dumbledore, and Prince, had insisted they would.

  “Are you ready?” Severus reached for Potter’s trunk, and was unsurprised when the boy shrugged him off.

  It was going to be a long break. In spite of Granger’s and Weasley’s intervention, and acceptance of Potter’s situation, as well as Potter’s defense of him, the boy still hadn’t warmed up to him overly much – he was still a little standoffish. Not that Severus was really concerned about whether or not Potter liked him. He’d still function as Potter’s guardian. And, so what if the boy had taken to Prince quicker than he had to Severus. He was not jealous.

  “Just admit it, Sev,” Lily smirked at him as she danced out of his reach, “you are jealous. J-E-A-L-O-U-S.” She punctuated each letter with a waggle of her hips, and stuck her tongue out at him when he glared at her.

  “Am not,” Severus pouted, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away from the redhead that he secretly loved more than he loved being magical.

  Lily had bounced back to his side and poked him in the chest. “Oh, yes you are, Severus Tobias Snape.”

  He scowled at her and swatted her hand away. He hated his middle name, and she knew it. It was his father’s name, and he wanted nothing to do with his father. When he grew up, he was going to take his mother and move as far away from his father as he could.

  “Am not,” he repeated, and he turned away from her, watching the swings that they’d recently abandoned – Lily with a graceful twirl of her skirt as she dismounted the swing in midair, he with a much less graceful skid-slump to the ground – sway in the wind.

  “Ah, Sev,” Lily coaxed. “It’s okay; you’ll catch the hang of it.”

  Severus shrugged, but refused to look at her. He didn’t need to be able to fly through the air like a bird, and land on his feet as nimble as a cat. He didn’t care. So what if he was nothing more than a clumsy, dimwitted, little boy that no one wanted – his father had just told him so this morning – he didn’t need to soar up, up in the air. He needed to keep his feet on the ground, and his head out of the clouds.

  Lily sidled up to him and draped an arm over his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Sev. I shouldn’t have rubbed it in like that. It’s just…”

  Something in her voice caused Severus to turn and look at her. Her mouth was pursed and her green eyes were scrunched, and she drew in a deep breath, letting it out with a dramatic puff of her cheeks, which were red with some emotion that Severus didn’t understand.

  “What?” Severus asked crossly.

  “Well, it’s just that youdoeverythingelsewellandthisistheonethingI’mgoodat.” Lily’s words came out in a single string of words that Severus couldn’t even begin to separate.

  He blinked at her, and Lily sighed. “Isn’t it okay for just me to be good at this one thing, at least until you get the hang of it?”

  Pondering his best friend’s words, Severus cast a look at the swings, and then nodded. One day, he’d master the art of dismounting the swings mid-air, but until then, it would be Lily’s domain, and, besides, she’d said he was good at everything else. His heart soared at that. Maybe his father had been wrong about him.

  “Yes, Sir,” Potter responded politely, jogging Severus from yet another bitter-sweet memory of Lily.

  With a sigh, Severus waved his hand and gestured for Potter to follow him. This time they’d be flooing to Prince Manor.

  “Mr. Potter, you can dispense with the formalities,” Severus said, once they’d entered the Headmaster’s office to use his Floo. “We are going to be on holiday…”

  “With all due respect, Sir,” Potter said through clenched teeth, “it would be a whole lot easier to, dispense with the formalities, if you would refer to me as something else other than Potter.”

  The boy was breathing heavily, and Severus blinked and frowned when Potter threw his hands up in the air and started pacing. It didn’t help that Potter’s actions reminded Severus of himself when he was Potter’s age.

  “I told Ron and Hermione that this would never work out. You don’t like me, and, believe me, Professor I’ve got plenty of people who don’t like me. I’d rather not be in the care of yet another one of them. You might as well just pack me off to the Dursleys.” Potter turned and faced him, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Potter’s face was pale, save for two red spots high on his cheeks – like Lily got when she was worked up about something. His green eyes were shining brightly, and his chin was trembling slightly.

  “Look, Potter,” Severus spoke in an even, clipped tone. He slammed his mouth shut when he saw the boy flinch and look away from him, yet something else which reminded Severus too much of Lily. He ran a hand through his hair, and sighed.

  “Harry.” The name felt strange on Severus’ tongue. “Harry,” he tried again, clearing his throat.

  Severus had no idea what to say next. It wasn’t that big of a deal calling someone by their given name, but, judging by Potter’s reaction, it meant something to the boy. As a professor, he was used to referring to all of his students by their surnames. It was common practice. But, he was not just a professor to Potter anymore; he was the boy’s guardian.

  “Thank you, Sir,” Potter said quietly.

  He was looking at his feet, his jaw working like there was something more that he wanted to say. Severus waited. When Potter raised his head to look at him, Severus was momentarily taken aback by the strong emotions he saw swirling in the boy’s eyes.

  “My uncle, he always either called me, Potter or…freak…I, I just, I just don’t want to…” Harry trailed off, wiping suspiciously at his nose with the back of his hand.

  “You don’t wish to be reminded of your uncle on your holiday?” Severus guessed, and didn’t bother to try and hide his smile when Potter’s head snapped up and the boy gaped at him as he nodded frantically.

  “I see,” Severus said, and he was rewarded with a small smile from Potter. “Well, in that case, Po…Harry, during holidays, you may refer to me as Severus, or, if it doesn’t turn your stomach, Uncle Severus.”

  “Are…are you sure, Sir?” Potter asked.

  “Yes, Harry, I’m sure,” Severus said dryly, rolling his eyes when the boy smiled widely at him. He really didn’t understand teenagers; they were always such mercurial beings.

  “Now, if we’re finished, I believe that your great grandfather is waiting for us,” Severus said, not quite sure what had prompted him to use the familial title rather than Prince, but, judging by Potter’s face-splitting grin, it had been the ‘right’ thing to say.

  “I believe he said something about having plans for decorating the manor, and letting you pick your own room out. Something about you being able to make the place your own by choosing, rather than having a room chosen for you.”

  Severus had insisted that the rooms they’d already been provided with would be sufficient, but Prince hadn’t heard a word of it. He’d sensed, and perhaps rightly so, that Harry was uncomfortable in the room that he’d been given.

  Though they’d been to the manor numerous times over the past few months since Severus had adopted Potter, this would be the first time they’d spent more than a weekend there. The way Harry’s eyes lit up at the mention of picking out his own room made Severus’ heart swell, and he was reminded of a Muggle story that Lily had read to him when they were young children. Something about a man called a Grinch.

  “You know, Severus, sometimes I think that your dad is like him,” Lily said, pointing at the green man pictured in the children’s book. “And all he needs is for someone to bring him a little Christmas cheer.”

  Severus snorted, and shook his head. He’d tried, but failed, to hide his most recent black eye from the redhead earlier that morning. Lily’s concern over him had prompted her to bring him back to the Evans’ home where her mother had doted over him, and Lily had dragged him into their sitting room and read to him.

  “More like a Christmas kick,” Severus muttered, but he’d looked down at the floor, unable to meet his best friend’s eyes because his own were watering and he didn’t want to cry. Not in front of a girl. Not in front of Lily.

  “In the arse,” Lily added, nudging him, and giggling.

  “Lily Evans,” her mother scolded, but when Severus looked up at Mrs. Evans, terror in his heart, he saw a smile on the woman’s face that belied the harsh tone she’d used. “Mind your tongue.”

  Lily stuck her tongue out at her mother, and Mrs. Evans swatted at her lightly, spurring another burst of giggles from the young witch. Severus watched, bemused, and wistful, imagining that it was him and his mother, with his father looking on fondly from the doorway, as Mr. Evans was doing.

  When he left for his home later that afternoon, the image of the Grinch’s tiny heart was superimposed over that of his father’s, except, he’d wagered that his own father’s heart was just a few sizes smaller than even that of the Grinch’s. He wondered what it would take to make his father’s heart grow bigger and bigger, like the Grinch’s had, until it was big enough to make him stop hurting his mother and him.

  “My very own room, of my own choosing?” Potter asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking much younger than his thirteen years of age would dictate.

  “Yes, I trust that you are familiar with the concept?” Severus arched an eyebrow, and mentally kicked himself when Potter bit his lip and shook his head.

  Severus carefully placed his hands on Potter’s shoulders when the boy looked down at his feet. He winced when Potter flinched, but didn’t loosen his grip, knowing that he couldn’t avoid touching the boy for the remainder of his guardianship.

  Severus breathed in and out through his nose, trying to gain control of his own chaotic emotions. He realized that he didn’t know half of what Potter had gone through while living with his only remaining blood relative. Petunia had been an ugly spirited child, and Severus had hated her on principle when he was just a kid for the way that she’d treated Lily and him. Now, he hated her even more. Something he hadn’t thought would be possible when he was younger.

  “P…Harry, I’m sorry for that, I…”

  “That’s okay, you didn’t know,” Potter said, shrugging. “It’s no big deal. I mean, after the letters came, I got Dudley’s second bedroom.”

  The lopsided grin on Potter’s face did something to Severus’ heart that was almost painful, and he wondered if that’s what it had felt like for the Grinch when his heart had started to grow. He nearly rolled his eyes at the analogy.

  “Then it’ll be nice to have a room of your own choosing,” Severus said, squeezing Potter’s shoulders before releasing Potter and backing up to give the boy some space.

  “You’ll get one too, right?” Potter asked, sounding a little anxious.

  “Yes. Now, if we’re finished with the little inquisition…” Severus’ joke was met with a short bark of laughter that Potter quickly shut off with a hand clapped over his mouth. Severus was reminded of just how much work he’d have to do with Potter before the boy was more comfortable around him.

  “Relax, I was joking,” Severus said, and he took a handful of Floo powder, motioning for Potter to pick up both of their trunks. He grasped Potter’s forearm, and then tossed the powder into the Floo, calling out, “Prince Manor.”

  They both landed in the Prince fireplace, arms akimbo and coughing. The trunks scattered out over the threshold, and were immediately plucked up by two house elves. Severus dusted himself and Potter off, and counted it as a slight win when the boy only flinched once.

  Prince walked into the room with a giant, dimpled grin on his face. “I see that my two boys have arrived in fine, festive fashion.”

  Prince rushed forward, embracing Severus and Potter with a kiss on either cheek. Severus noted, with a stab of something that might have resembled jealousy, (were he a wizard given to jealousy) that Potter didn’t flinch, but readily returned his great grandfather’s embrace.

  “Let’s say we get started with the festivities?” Prince sounded like a little kid himself.

  His joie de vivre was contagious, and soon both Severus and Potter were caught up in the ‘spirit of Christmas’. After decorations were hung and dinner was eaten, rooms were chosen.

  Potter chose a room which looked out over the gardens, now covered with snow. Severus had chosen a room that was only a few doors down from Potter’s. Just in case something was to happen to the boy, he wanted to be able to reach him in time. Both rooms were opulent and Severus knew that he and Potter were feeling equally out of place.

  It wasn’t until a week into their holiday that things started to change between Severus and Potter, and, looking back, Severus would be hard-pressed to remember what had acted as the catalyst. He thought that it might have had something to do with the ill-advised snowball fight that Prince had started when he was showing them around the grounds.

  He’d caught Severus in the side of the head, and Potter right in the stomach, laughing all the while. For a while Potter and Severus had banded together in an effort to thwart Prince.

  All of them had returned to the manor, half-frozen, Potter doubled over in laughter, and Prince clinging to Severus as he, too, had been overcome with laughter. Severus hadn’t been laughing, but he had enjoyed himself. Steaming cups of hot chocolate had been waiting them upon their return, and Severus didn’t think he’d ever felt as warmed by a drink as he had when he drank that cup of hot cocoa.

  “Thank you,” Potter said, once the laughter had subsided, and he’d been sufficiently warmed by the cocoa. “I haven’t done something like that outside of Hogwarts.”

  He stood and wrapped his great grandfather in a hug, and something moved inside of Severus. He wondered if this is what the Grinch had felt when his heart had gotten used to growing.

  When Potter turned and looked at him, hesitancy showing on his face, and in each faltering step that he took, Severus held himself as still as he could. His heart was hammering in his chest, the pace picking up with each step that Potter took to close the space between them. Severus didn’t have words, barely had breath for any words, and didn’t know what to do when Potter leaned down and gave him a quick hug, whispering words of thanks into his ear.

  “Thanks, you know, for not turning a deaf ear, and simply walking past me when you overhead Ron and I talking,” Potter whispered. “And thanks for not taking house points.”

  Severus chuckled silently, and he felt tears glistening in his eyes. Seasonal sentiments were getting the better of him; he might be the wizarding world’s biggest Grinch, but Potter was no Cindy Lou Who.

  The change had occurred sometime after that moment. Sometime after waking up to Potter screaming his way out of a nightmare, and comforting the boy back to sleep. Sometime after Weasley’s and Granger’s afternoon visit, during which snow battles were conducted, forts were built and Potter had come in with a bloody nose that Severus put back to sorts while Prince and Weasley had hovered nearby, sharing the same worried looks. Sometime after Prince had told Severus that this holiday, other than the ones in which Eileen had been in his home, was the happiest time of his life.

  Severus wasn’t sure if it was just one thing, or maybe the combination of everything, but he’d begun to see Potter, and himself, in a new light. Maybe Dumbledore had been right all along. Maybe Severus could have a little more with Potter than just a grudging mutual respect.

  Maybe he could be the boy’s father, not a replacement of James Potter, but maybe something else, something like an ‘other’ father. The father Severus had always dreamt of having when he’d been growing up, and the father that Potter would have had, had Severus not made the second biggest mistake of his life. The first had cost him Lily Evans’ friendship; the second had cost her, her life.

  “That’s quite enough of that now, Sev,” Lily said, frowning. “Stop blaming yourself for what happened.”

  Severus looked up at her from where he was sitting on the swing. He shrugged, and gestured at his crooked nose. “It’s the truth, though.”

  “But, you don’t have to be like him,” Lily insisted, kneeling down in front of him and imploring him to look at her.

  “I look just like him, though, and…” Severus’ heart thudded in his chest. He swallowed back tears. “I…sometimes I just want to…I want to kill him,” he whispered the last part, almost afraid to hear the words aloud.

  “Oh, Sev.” Lily wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. “Promise me that you’ll hold onto hope.”

  “What for?” Severus was despondent. He saw no future for himself, let alone hope that he could hold onto.

  “Someday, something good will come along, and when it does, you’ve got to grab onto it and never let it go. Promise me you’ll do that, Sev. Promise me that you won’t forget this, that you won’t forget me,” Lily said. Her green eyes were bright and shining with unshed tears. “Promise me that you’ll remember.”

  Though Severus’ heart felt like lead, he nodded, and offered her a small smile. “I promise,” he said in a hollow, lost voice.

  Looking back now, Severus realized that this was what Lily had been talking about all along. This – the reconciliation with his grandfather and the adoption of Potter – was his second chance at life. Oh, he was under no illusions that Lily was a prophetess, but she’d always held onto hopes – hope that one day Petunia would no longer be jealous of Lily’s magic, and that Severus would have a loving family.

  When he’d been unable to hope, Lily had held onto hope for the both of them.

  Severus tugged the door to Potter’s room, leaving it just slightly ajar. He’d been in to comfort the boy after a nightmare. Unlike the previous times, Potter had told Severus about his nightmare, and had let him offer what comfort he could, just as Severus remembered his mother doing for him when he was a little boy and had suffered from a bad dream.

  His hand hovered over the doorknob, and he peeked in, once again. Potter was now slumbering peacefully, his face blank and carefree. Smiling, Severus turned away, and walked the short distance to his own room.

  “I remember,” Severus whispered to the ghost of Lily’s memory, and he felt his heart grow another size bigger. This time, it didn’t hurt.