It would’ve been better if someone had punched Harry in the gut. His breath was gone. It felt as if he were drowning in the lake, being dragged down into its deep depths by a Grindylow or a mermaid, both set on sinking their teeth into his flesh and tearing his heart out.

An old fear clung to his chest. Water clogged his ears. He didn’t breathe for nearly thirty seconds. As his mind begged for air, Harry drew an imperceptible breath through his nose. He blew out the air a moment later. The raging, gurgling emotions in his heart and mind did not show on his face. He pushed the wave back with an air of steel.

“Oh,” he whispered. “So… That means… Everything will go back to normal now…”

Back to normal…

No, everything was going to change.

His breaths became regular. His mind raced. No Snape meant no protection from Umbridge. Umbridge meant no Dursleys. He would be trading one evil for another. What would life be like with her? As a teacher, she treated him differently from the other students – not in a good way, obviously. However, if she became his guardian, how would her treatment of him change, if at all? Would she punish him with that quill again?

Or would she change with the position?

Worse case, he would be Umbridge’s ward and be expelled. No magic, no nothing, just a dead remnant of the famous ‘boy-who-lived.’ He would be forgotten as the Wizarding World’s icon. Unfortunately, there was no chance he could escape from Umbridge. Either she would end up killing him or Voldemort would get to him – and, in the end, it was highly possible that Harry would hope Voldemort would hunt them down and kill them both.

Next best case was being in her control, yet still being allowed at Hogwarts. This one, Harry could live with, he supposed. It wasn’t ideal, but he could keep his head down. Smile, nod, obey – he had years of practice underneath the Dursleys. He could do it with the toad. There was two more years before his majority. Legally, he could get away from her – and with magic, he had some defense against Voldemort.

Okay, it wasn’t all that bad. He could get through this. He had faced the end of Voldemort’s wand and lived – now, what, four times, was it, already?

He had to be stupidly lucky. Maybe that luck would hold.

At any rate, he should’ve known. Nothing good ever lasted. But maybe even without the spell, Snape would still be interested in the Apprenticeship. Harry could become a Potions Master, even as Umbridge’s ward. Umbridge couldn’t fault him if he worked hard, right?

And when he was finally an adult, he would definitely be slipping a handful of orange Puking Pastilles into her tea and effectively flushing the purple ones down the toilet.

Harry maintained his blank expression as he turned his gaze upward, connecting with the man’s dark eyes. The man studied him with furrowed eyebrows.

“What about the apprenticeship?” asked Harry, trying his hardest to keep his voice even and flat. He was successful.

“That will not change,” said Snape. His eyes never wavered. “Unless you no longer wish to apprentice beneath a Potions Master.”

“No, I want it,” said Harry hurriedly. A second later, he mentally cursed himself as some of his fear bled through his tone. Snape had raised an eyebrow, seeing the flux of emotions that flashed through Harry’s features. Harry forced it back. The blank expression reappeared.

“I might also consider teaching you another branch of magic,” said Snape, a slight intrigued lilt in his tone. “It would appear you might do well in it.”

“What kind of magic?” asked Harry, interest rising in his chest.

“Occlumency. It is mind magic, but deals more with self control, than actual magic. It is protection of the mind, where one clears their mind of emotions and even thought. Clearly, you have some practice at hiding your most vulnerable emotions. This would explain your outbursts in anger.”

Ice slid into Harry’s heart.

“I… I don’t… I’m not hiding anything,” said Harry, his voice higher a bit.

“No?” whispered Snape, with the lift of an eyebrow. He leaned forward. “Your shoulders are tense.”

Harry stiffened, only to attempt to lower his shoulders in response. His jaw tightened.

“Your breathing is shallow.”

His lungs expanded with a deep breath. White dots appeared in his vision.

“You’re clutching onto that comforter with clenched hands.”

Harry released the blanket, as if burned.

“Loosened your jaw while you’re at it.”

He couldn’t take it any more. Harry dropped his eyes, the overwhelming feeling of being unraveled pouring through him with terrible vengeance.

“No doubt you developed this while you lived with your… relatives,” said Snape, a snarl in his voice. Harry looked up to see the man’s lips curled in disgust. As those dark eyes connected their gaze with Harry’s, the man’s expression softened. “You’re raw skill shows, but with time it could be refined. It is a skill rarely ever taught from the initial start. It is more of a… learned skill – one based on need. Once a potential student is found, they are privately tutored. But there hasn’t been one in years.”

Harry swallowed.

For a long moment, there was silence between them. There wasn’t anything Harry could say to argue the man’s point. He felt bare, stripped of his camouflage.

“It is easy to hide beneath anger,” whispered Snape. “It is easy to hide beneath a sneer, a glare, and a cruel word. It’s what I did. It’s what I have done for years.”

There was something soft in the man’s tone, something Harry had never before heard before in Snape’s voice. He couldn’t break his eye contact. Drawn in, there was a sense of reverence in this moment – one that Harry didn’t want to break.

“I don’t want that for you,” said Snape, his voice rising. “You do not need to bottle your emotions and face the world with a blank expression. You don’t need to hide any more, because you will have adults in your life who will care for you. It’s what your relatives should have done for you when you were younger.”

His heart quickened. His eyes burned, but Harry blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to stop himself from letting a tear slip through his defenses.

“Adults who care?” repeated Harry, his voice lifting upwards in a challenging lilt. “And who’ll that be? Umbridge?”

“Me.”

“But you just said the spell is broken—”

“It is. But the guardianship hasn’t been broken,” said Snape. He paused, dropping his head slightly. He clasped his hands together in his lap. He took a deep breath and looked up at him. “I want to make this permanent, so much so that not even that hag of a woman can tear you away from me.”

“Permanent?” asked Harry. He licked his lips. The blood roared in his ears. “What do you mean?”

“I would like to adopt you, Harry. If you’re willing, of course, to accept me in a more parental role over your life. I… hope you are.”

The roaring blood now sounded like the tumultuous waves in a stormy sea. It was like a dream. From the moment when Harry had been four years old, he had hoped for something like this. How many nights had he dreamed about a loving mother and father to come rescue him from the ‘evil’ clutches of his relatives? He’d been so young when he had realized that his aunt and uncle would never love him. He hadn’t understood why. He just knew it as fact.

What a devastating thing to learn at four years old.

“Why?” whispered Harry. “Why would you offer such a thing.”

“You need stability, structure, and discipline in your life. And your previous guardians failed to provide what you sorely need,” started Snape firmly, an almost haughty tone in his voice; but his expression softened slightly. “Although, I must admit, I have grown accustomed to your presence in my quarters and would be quite adverse to its absence.”

The roaring became unbearable.

“I don’t believe you.”

The words fell without his realization. His voice was foreign in his ears. Snape’s eyebrows lifted in brief surprise.

“I don’t understand this,” said Harry, slowly shaking his head. “You can’t just offer something that without a real reason behind it. You can’t lie to me. You don’t really want me in your home, I get it.”

“Are you saying that wanting you as a son isn’t a real reason?” asked Snape, inclining his head with an incredulous, irritated lift of his eyebrow. “Are you calling me a liar?”

Something inside Harry snapped.

“Whatever this is between us—” shouted Harry, motioning wildly between them – uncaring about whispering. If the spell hadn’t been around them, he would have woken the entire wing. “—I don’t know what it is! I’ve been ignoring it, trying not to hope that I wouldn’t have to go back. But I couldn’t stop it. I never want to go back, even if it meant staying with someone who hated me just as much or even more than the Dursleys, simply because you never actually h—”

Harry instantly clamped his mouth shut, biting down on his tongue. Copper seeped into his mouth; his tongue slowly grew numb. The new pain brought alight the rest the pain in his body, almost magnifying it to a new level.

Harry closed his eyes, running his tongue along the roof of his mouth. He swallowed the blood, grimacing.

He had almost said it out loud.

“I never what?” breathed Snape, his eyes boring into Harry.

“Nothing. Forget it.”

“No, say it.”

“Just leave it!” shouted Harry furiously. “Just shut up and leave me alone!”

How fast could he make the man angry? Dare he? He knew the pressure points. Sirius. James. Arrogance. Pride. If he could piss the man off, then maybe he would be too angry to keep going with this.

“Stop, Control yourself,” said Snape, holding up a hand and giving him a stern look. “You—”

“I what?” demanded Harry, following suit. “I’m exactly like my father, right? Arrogant, lazy – you name it, that’s what I am. So, just keep your abnormally large nose out of my business. All right?! I don’t need you. I don’t need anything. I’ll be fine. The Dursleys, Umbridge – who cares, honestly.”

Voldemort would probably make a fantastic father compared to everyone else at this rate.

Harry glared at the man, but his stomach felt cold as ice. The roaring in his ears died; the stillness of the air chilled the soul. He was going to ruin everything. This was going to end badly. What had taken them weeks to build, he had destroyed easily in one minute. But at least it was by Harry’s hand. No one could take it from him. If he couldn’t have it, then he would destroy it himself.

If he couldn’t have safety, then he was going to tear down his weakness before his assailant’s eyes. If he couldn’t have security, then he was going to act like he didn’t want it. If he couldn’t have his dream, then he would destroy it word by word.

Whatever it took to keep his secrets.

Snape sighed. He closed his eyes and rubbed them with his fingers again. His countenance seemed to age, as if the exhaustion had settled into his very bones. Harry gritted his teeth, refusing to back down.

“Eight times,” whispered Snape, behind his hand. Something about his voice stilled Harry’s heart. “Five times this last summer. You have scars. Most likely, you always will. That’s what happens when a belt buckle breaks the skin.”

His mouth went dry. Harry tried to say something in defense, but nothing came out.

He knows.

“You will not be going back to the Dursleys,” said Snape, looking up from behind his hand. His jaw tightened. “You will never be required to set foot inside their domicile for the rest of your life. You will never be required to see them ever again, unless you wish it.”

He knows. He knows. He knows.

“The fact that you don’t hate living with me,” continued Snape, that strange still softness in his tone. “Simply because I don’t hit you, attests to your relatives’ cruelty. I’ve belittled you for years, without just cause, and yet your hopes has resided in staying with me.” He shook his head. “I wish circumstances hadn’t driven you to this – the lesser of two evils.”

He was frozen. He wasn’t sure where it was going now. He hadn’t ruined everything, it seemed. Harry hadn’t made the man angry. What in Merlin’s name was going on?

“You are not the only one who has felt the belt,” whispered Snape. “But unlike myself, you have someone who will no longer allow anyone to harm you like that – or in any fashion – ever again. I swear it.”

And Harry believed him.

“I will also not allow Umbridge to remove you from this school,” said Snape, leaning forward. He hesitated for a moment, before he placed a hand over one of Harry’s hands. It was warm, calloused from years of potion making. Would Harry have hands like these one day? “I swear it, Harry. I will not fail you in this. You will be protected.”

“You can’t mean that,” whispered Harry. “What about him? You can’t—”

“I will no longer answer his call.”

Horror flooded through Harry.

“But—”

“Harry.” That warm, calloused hand squeezed gently. “Think on my offer. I want to adopt you. Not out of pity or obligation – because I want it. Now—” Snape stood up abruptly. Harry looked up at him, his body too shocked to say anything more. The man placed a hand onto his chest and pushed gently. “Lie back and go to sleep.”

He pulled something out of his robe pocket. It was a vial. He uncorked it and placed it near Harry’s lips. Harry didn’t fight it. He opened his mouth. Some of the purple liquid slipped into his mouth and down his throat. He settled back against his pillow, watching Snape cork the vial and slip it into his robes.

“You will be protected.”

A hand brushed against his forehead. Harry’s eyes closed; the warmth never disappeared.