Harry clung to Snape's robes as though they were the only thing he could hold onto in the hurricane called life. He lay there for what seemed to him an eternity.

"You think it's that easy to get rid of me?" Snape's voice drawled. Harry's head shot up and his jaw dropped, his tears immediately stopping.

"You're alive!" Harry gasped, relief flooding his voice. "Saints be praised, you're alive! Are you alright?"

"Are you?" Snape asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Severus, you incorrigible child," a woman's voice rang out. Both turned and saw McGonagall and Sirius standing there.

"What are you doing here?" Snape and Harry both asked at the same time.

"Rescuing you idiots," McGonagall replied, though she smiled widely. Obviously she was pleased beyond measure that Snape was still alive, Harry realized.

"So the other Death Eaters - ?" Harry began.

"Are either dead or otherwise incapacitated until Ministry authorities can get here," McGonagall finished.

"Harry, are you alright?" Sirius asked.

"I - I suppose," Harry stammered, as though he hadn't really considered it.

"You don't sound very confident about that," Sirius pointed out.

"I'm not," Harry whispered, but no one but Snape heard. "Thank you for helping," he continued, louder, hoping to change the subject.

"You're welcome, Harry," McGonagall said. "I think that both of you belong in the infirmary for the rest of the day at least to make sure you're alright."

.oO-Oo.

Poppy actually released both of them a few hours after checking into the infirmary, much to McGonagall's dismay.

"If I didn't know better, Minerva," Snape had said upon release, "I would accuse you of using the infirmary as a kind of detention for both of us."

"Then it's a good thing you know better than to accuse me," McGonagall said, almost smirking. Once McGonagall had left, Harry and Snape were alone outside the hospital doors.

"You should catch up on your classes," Snape advised suddenly. "Here's a note to get you through any difficulties you may have for not being in class." Snape handed him a note, saying that Harry had been absent due to unforeseen events and had been with him, Snape.

"Yeah, I'll go do that," Harry said nervously and darted off. He heard Snape sigh sadly as he left the awkward situation.

"Meet me in my office tonight," Snape called after him. "If I'm not there, just wait in my office for me." Harry glanced over his shoulder and nodded, but didn't reply.

.oO-Oo.

Harry knocked softly on Snape's office door. There wasn't any response, but Harry tried the door and it was open. He slipped inside to wait for Snape as instructed. Admittedly, Harry was quite panicked about what Snape wanted. In some ways the apprehension was worse than when he was out past curfew. The worst Snape would do to him then was beat him. Now, with a few simple sentences, Snape would be able to reject him and that would be so much worse than any beating he'd ever gotten. A fire crackled softly.

Nervous, Harry paced around the room, looking at various jars on Snape's shelves. Some had eyes floating in purple liquid, others held plants in clear liquid. One even had a fish swimming inside a clear yellow liquid.

Bored with examining the potions stocks, Harry went over to Snape's desk. Maybe the last essay he'd written was there and he could look at the grade. Now that he actually tried in potions class, it wasn't so bad. His grades had gone up, but not because of the adoption. Snape didn't grade him any easier. He was simply producing better work. He began sifting through the first few papers on the desk, when he noticed his name appeared in Snape's spidery handwriting. Intrigued, Harry couldn't help himself from reading.

What have I done? What have I done? I thought nothing could be worse than being the Dark Lord's toy, but it can be, it can be so much worse. I should never be forgiven for what I did. I can't be forgiven. Harry didn't deserve any of what he's been through, not ever. I'm so ashamed of myself. I should have been stronger, I should have stopped Harry when I knew he was lying to me, and none of this would have happened.

My hands will never be clean of the evils of today. I can't even look at the boy without waves of guilt washing over me. I promised to protect him, and instead I was the instrument of more abuse. I can count his as the worst day I've ever lived, even worse than the day with Potter and Lily. Both days I destroyed the only good thing in my life. Both days I'll live to regret. Both days I'll work to undo, knowing that that can never happen. The past is the past and nothing can undo it, ever.

I promise Harry will never have to deal with me other than for lessons ever again. I wouldn't want to deal with me either. If the boy can stand the sight of me twice or three times a week in class, he will already have given me more forgiveness than I deserve. I should never have agreed to their plan.

Knowing what I've been through, knowing what Harry has been through, just makes it all the worse. All this experience has taught Harry is that he can't trust anyone, not even the one person who voluntarily took on responsibility for him. How will he ever learn to trust his friends in the future, even a spouse? All I've learned is it's best if I stay away from those I care about.

I vowed I would never care again, and not even two weeks after I break that vow, I'm reminded why I made it in the first place. May the Lord have mercy on my soul, though he knows best why I deserve to rot in hell for eternity. I'm so sorry. I love the boy with my whole being, and the extent I hurt him was the worst.

I wish I had died today. It would have spared me the pain of talking to him. Ah, but that's selfish. I wish I had died today to spare Harry the pain of talking to me. I deserve having to talk to him, but he doesn't deserve having to talk to me, ever again.

I felt the Dark Lord's spirit break when he called me Dad. I was so overwhelmed that he called me that, despite the circumstances, and I love him so much in that moment, that it burned the Dark Lord's soul itself, burned it right out of existence. By proving that I had the power to stop it at that point, I proved that I always had the power to stop him, from the moment the Dark Lord possessed me. In that light, I am just as guilty as if I had chosen to do it of my own accord. I could have stopped it, and I didn't.

Then falling into the coma after, even if for a few minutes, I was sure I would die. How Harry had the strength of character to cry over what he thought was my dead body I will never know.

The writing ended, and Harry noticed there were several formerly wet spots on the paper. Snape must have been crying, Harry realized. The thought of Snape sitting alone in this dark, cold room writing this, crying as he did so, sobered Harry quite a bit. The amount of pain Snape must be in must be enormous, even more than he had endured that day, Harry realized.

The door creaked open, and even though Harry heard it, he didn't react. He just held the paper Snape had written in his hands.

"What are you doing?" Snape hissed behind him, grabbing the paper from him. Harry whirled, horrified, and he felt terrible when he saw his professor's expression. It was a mix of anger and pain.

"I - I'm sorry," Harry stammered. "I didn't mean to - I mean, I just saw my name..."

"You're always sorry!" Snape lashed out, as he sank into his chair behind his desk. Harry backed away, scared of this angry and hurt Snape, unsure where Snape's inhibitions lay once the man had completely lost his temper. "You never mean what you do! You didn't mean it when you fell into the pensieve, you didn't mean what happened this morning, you didn't mean this!" Snape threw the paper on his desk and covered his eyes with his right hand as he leaned back in the chair. He sighed, as Harry stared on, with big, scared eyes.

"I'm sorry," Snape said. "That was uncalled for." Snape didn't even look at him though, Harry noticed. Maybe it was because he couldn't bare to, according to what he'd read.

"It's not true," Harry finally whispered.

"What are you talking about?" Snape asked, now looking directly at Harry.

"This," Harry said, picking up the paper. "This isn't true." Harry tore the paper into fourths as if for emphasis, and threw them in the fire. "It's lies. It wasn't your fault. You did protect me."

"That's not how I see it," Snape replied quietly, unconsciously wiping his hand on his trousers.

"Then you see it wrong," Harry declared. The page had disintegrated to black ash in the fire. Snape stood up and walked to the front of his desk, where he leaned against it, examining his shoes, occasionally risking a glance up at Harry. Snape muttered something, but Harry didn't catch it.

"Sorry, didn't hear you," Harry said, stepping closer.

"I said," Snape repeated, slightly louder, "that I was, at the end of the day, my fault for my poor choices with you." Harry sighed, somewhat annoyed. Snape still didn't look at him. "I wouldn't blame you if you decided that this adoption has caused you so many problems that you will leave. I can't undo the adoption, but I can promise to never see you outside of my role as your teacher." For his answer, Harry took one more step closer, and slowly put his arms around Snape's neck. Harry felt, more than heard, Snape's gasp, and Snape pulled him close.

"I'm sorry," Snape finally said.

"I think there's enough sorry to go around and then some," Harry replied, releasing Snape. "I couldn't have hoped for a better dad." His voice had started out quite serious, but by the time he pronounced the last word, the smirk became apparent. Snape snorted, but didn't argue. "It's true," Harry insisted, suddenly very sincere again. "How many other fathers would have come without a second thought to save me from my own mistakes, then sacrifice everything? You were ready to suffer everything all over again, and you didn't even stop to consider what it would do to you. Then you used the only weapon available to you, love, apparently, to put an end to the whole fiasco. I couldn't ask for more than to be loved."

"Dumbledore would have been proud of that speech, young man," Snape replied.

"Doesn't change anything," Harry continued. "Somehow, you care, enough to have protected me."

"You're my son," Snape sighed. "It's my job to protect you, at the cost of everything. Any father who isn't willing isn't worth being called a father. And as your father, I should be the last person to ever hurt you." Harry suddenly paused.

"This - this isn't some way to get rid of me, is it?" he suddenly asked, backing away, his face darkening with doubt.

"What do you mean?" Snape asked, puzzled.

"Pushing me away," Harry explained. "You aren't trying to get rid of me, are you? You're intent on this idea, that I can't have you anymore. Is it because you no longer want me as your son, and it's easiest to maintain that I shouldn't want you as my father?" Harry was beginning to shake a little.

"No, no, no," Snape replied, closing the gap between them, to comfort Harry. It almost felt like it was before, Severus realized. "It's nothing like that. There is nothing wrong with you, and I still want you as my son. It's true, you shouldn't want me as your father, but if that's what you freely choose, then I will be happiest man alive."

"I do, thank you," Harry said. "I wouldn't know what to do without you, now that I've had a father for the first time in my memory. Thank you for not leaving me. Thanks for not dying."

"You're not allowed to die either," Snape quietly reminded him.