As Potter's arms crept around him, Severus sighed softly. Potter was now sobbing freely, and Severus felt him take fistfuls of his robes as he clung for support. Severus could sense that Potter's knees were close to giving out. Severus simply stood there, letting Potter cry his soul out. He didn't do anything; he didn't need to do anything.

"How?" Potter finally asked, after he regained some self-control and pulled his face from Severus' robes.

"How what?" Severus relied, loosening his grip on the boy.

"How do you understand?" Severus froze, and didn't respond immediately.

"That," he finally said stiffly, "is a different story, for a different time."

"Sir," Potter said, now fully in control, and pulling away from him, with a slightly accusatory tone, "I forgot that I wasn't worth your time outside of your interest in the war. Forgive me." His tone was cold, and Potter spun away, stalking to the door, where he reached for the handle. Severus pulled his wand, and spelled the door locked before Potter could open it. He didn't want the boy leaving. Not like that.

"You will turn around and come back here, Mr. Potter," Severus said quietly, but his tone was commanding. After a moment, Potter complied. He faced Severus. His - son - then clasped his hands behind his back and raised his chin, as he glared at Severus. The loathing was clear in his gaze, and Severus realized that this was simply the same look he had given the boy many a time. Severus realized, also, that Potter only returned the feelings that were presented to him. Severus had never given him and reason to feel any other way about him. The only logical feelings that he could have about his professor were loathing and hatred.

"I was under the impression you wanted me?" Potter said, disdain dripping from his voice. It was then Severus realized that they had been silent for several minutes.

"Yes, your impression was correct," he said. "At least that observation. And as much as it pains me to say it, you are worth my time outside of the war effort." Potter snorted indignantly. "And what do you mean by that?" Severus challenged. "You've no idea how much I've given up for you."

"If you thought I was worth your time, you wouldn't..." Potter stopped, groping for the right words. "You wouldn't be you," he finally finished.

"Oh?" Severus said, his metaphorical feathers ruffling. He figured it would be best to let Potter get away with impertinence now, simply because he needed to vent and speak freely for once. The relationship of teacher and student had been altered, down to the very genetic makeup of it, and so why shouldn't their behavior change too? It wasn't that Severus intended on letting disrespect be a theme in their relationship - quite the opposite - but rather, he needed to know what the boy was thinking, and a share of it couldn't be expressed respectfully.

"Yes," Potter said, crossing his arms, and glaring harder. "You wouldn't turn every potions class into a living hell, where you simply sit back and ridicule and mock everything I do, no matter how hard I try for you! You wouldn't try to put me down all the time! You would assign fair punishments, and not favor Malfoy all the time! You would have told me about the adoption!" By the end of his speech, Potter had his hands in fists at his sides. Tears of anger shown in his eyes. Severus was silent, waiting to see if he was finished. When no further accusations were forthcoming, he shifted his position so he was leaning against the desk again and sighed.

"You're right," Severus said.

"What?" Potter said, relaxing his fists.

"Close your mouth before insects find it a habitable place," he drawled. He snapped the jaw he hadn't realized had fallen closed. "I said, you're right. And before taking you on as my - son," he seemed to almost choke on the word, "I swore to Dumbledore that I would act in a more acceptable manner. The whole point was to get you out of an abusive situation, even if we apparently didn't know to what extent. Putting you into another would defeat the purpose."

"You promised to be nice to me?" Potter said, apparently appalled at the thought. Severus sneered at him.

"Hardly," he drawled. "I promised I wouldn't act in an - immature - manner. Don't go putting words in my mouth, boy!" Potter visibly winced at the form of address. Severus noticed, and filed it away to not use that word again. He wasn't about to apologize - his pride was still too important for that - but he did intend to keep his promise.

"Yes, sir," Potter muttered. There was an awkward silence for a moment.

"Don't get the idea that I'm simply going to ignore you either," Severus continued. "I may not have any experience with raising children, but I know that ignoring them is not the preferred method. I expect a level of transparency. In other words, I expect you to be frank and honest with me, and I expect you to tell me when something is troubling you or if anything is wrong. I promise to never speak of anything said in confidence outside of these chambers. I wish to have at least one session with you once a week, to discuss your performance in school, and anything else that may come up, in addition to the standard Occlumency lessons. Of course, if you should ever need to speak to me, that is your prerogative. Is this clear?"

"Yes, sir," the boy said again, this time with more confidence. "But I presume this is only a one-way agreement?"

"How do you mean?"

"I mean," he said, "that you expect me to be honest with you, and tell you what's on my mind, but you won't answer my questions."

"What questions are those?" It would prove to be a fatal question.

.oO-Oo.

"You insist you can understand," Harry accused, feeling confused and conflicted. "But you won't tell me how. How? How can you? You can't! You're simply an old dungeon bat and you can't understand anything that's ever happened to anyone!" Harry clapped his hand over his mouth, his eyes wide. He hadn't meant to say that. Pulling his hand away, he tried to amend what he had said. "Sorry, I mean, that's what it looks like you are," and then he descended into something of a panicked babble.

"Shut up," Snape said, annoyed to the limit. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and Harry "shut up." Neither said anything.

"Sorry, sir," Harry muttered.

"Accepted," Snape returned. They fell into silence again. Harry glanced at Snape as he hung his head. He hated the quiet that had enveloped the room, but he didn't want to be the one to break it. Snape hadn't given him permission to leave, so he didn't dare turn away. "My business is my own," Snape finally said, glaring coldly at him. "How or why I can understand is something that doesn't concern you - simply that I can."

"So the transparency is one way," Harry muttered sullenly.

"You don't want to know!" Snape hissed at him, pushing himself up from the desk and standing a few feet opposite him, fists clenched.

"No, don't tell me what I do and don't want to know," Harry said, gathering his Gryffindor courage. "You don't want me to know."

"Fine," Snape agreed. "I don't. But I still expect you to tell me what goes through your, luckily, incredibly thick skull."

"Luckily?" Snape looked at him curiously, like he were an interesting bug.

"Any less thick of a skull would have been broken over the summer."

.oO-Oo.

Harry was dismissed and went to his dormitory, where he sank gratefully onto his bed, forgetting to even change his clothes. Snape had kept him late, and everyone else was already sleeping.

"That you, Harry?" Ron muttered as he rolled over.

"Yeah," Harry returned tiredly. "It's me."

"You okay?"

"Of course I am."

"Why did you get sent to Snape?" Harry paused, unsure how to answer.

"I'm tired, Ron. Good night." There was another pause.

"Good night, Harry."

.oO-Oo.

Next day, in Potions, Harry couldn't help but let his gaze follow Snape. Every so often, Snape would stop mid-sentence in his lecture and look at him, but Harry wondered if it was perhaps his imagination. Or maybe Snape had always done this, and he hadn't noticed. Harry was having difficulty concentrating, both from fatigue but also from curiosity. He wanted to know what Snape was hiding, but he could only come up with one idea. Variations on that idea, yes, but only one basic idea.

Harry would have pitied Snape, he thought, except that pity was the last thing he wanted. He felt that he should just let Snape keep his secrets, but he wanted to know if his hunch was right. He needed to know.

There it was again. This time Harry was sure he hadn't imagined it. Snape stumbled on his rehearsed lecture and looked at him. Harry returned this gaze, trying to send the impression that he was actually paying attention, though he was sure Snape knew he wasn't. But when Snape looked at him now, it wasn't with the typical hatred of years and lessons previous. But rather Snape looked at him with a similar curiosity to that which Harry currently looked at Snape.

.oO-Oo.

That night was another Occlumency lesson. Harry wasn't sure whether to dread it or not. If Snape had promised to be civil to him, maybe it wouldn't be that bad. Under normal circumstances, Harry would have feared that Snape would jeer or mock him for his - well, weaknesses, - but he wasn't sure Snape could. Harry knocked on the door.

"Come in," Snape's voice said. He sounded annoyed, yes, but it wasn't like his usual annoyance. So Harry stepped in. Snape was sitting at his desk writing something.

"Sorry I'm late," he began, even though his watch showed three minutes early. Snape rolled his eyes dramatically.

"You're not, so stop apologizing," he drawled without looking up from his writing.

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"If your demonstrations in Potions are anything to go by, your concentration skills haven't improved any," Snape observed casually.

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered, hanging his head. He'd better prepare for a whole lecture about how he needed to focus better on his school.

"You're distracted," Snape continued. Harry nodded. "What is distracting you?" So Harry could give the honest answer, or he could make something up. He was on the verge of explaining that Ron and Hermione were having a fight, when Snape looked up and made eye contact with him.

"You never explained," Harry suddenly accused. "How can I ever learn to trust you if you won't explain?"

"Explain what?" Snape sighed.

"Why - why you say you can understand," Harry stammered.

"Is it really that big a deal?" Snape said. "Maybe I'm just empathetic."

"Or maybe you're not," Harry said.

"Or maybe it's not appropriate for me to speak of it!" Snape burst out, bringing his hand down on his desk loudly. Harry jumped. He was just glad Snape hit the desk and not him. He needed to know how far he could push Snape.

"Or maybe you just won't," Harry said, "because you're ashamed of something. The same way I'm ashamed," he added. Snape sneered at him.

"As I have said before, you would do well to not worry yourself with those things which do not concern you." Snape picked up his quill and began to write again, signaling the finality of the conversation. But Harry wasn't going to take another no for an answer.

"But it does concern me!" Harry protested.

"How?" Snape demanded suddenly. "How does my life concern you?"

"Why does my life concern you?" Harry returned.

"Because you're the Boy-Who-Lived," Snape said. "And because of the adoption." His voice dropped its volume a bit at the second reason.

"And do you remember at the - adoption," Harry spat the word, "that there were red and green ribbons that bound our hands?"

"I do believe I was conscious for this incident, yes," Snape said in an acerbic tone.

"The red ribbons symbolized your obligation to me," Harry said, "but the green symbolized my obligation to you. Gryffindor and Slytherin. Red and green. Whether you want it or not, you're stuck with me, and whether I want it or not, I'm stuck with you. As much as you maintain that you're the only one with an obligation here, it doesn't work that way." Harry looked thoughtful. "That's especially why not telling me was the worst thing you could do." Snape made a face at Harry.

"Get to the point," he snapped. Harry placed his hands on Snape's desk and leaned his face close to the dungeon bat's.

"If you expect to fill the position as my father, then you better allow me to fill the position as your son!" The two glared at each other.

"Are you threatening me, Potter?" he whispered, eyes narrowed at Harry.

"Yes," Harry said. "I'm threatening you by pointing out that you can't be my father - and I won't ever accept you as such - unless I also am your son."

"You don't even want to be my son," Snape said, almost sound hurt if it were possible, as he looked back over his papers.

"You might not be my first choice," Harry said rapidly, "but we're here, you are, and I am."

"Why are you so intent on this bond being more than what is strictly necessary?" Snape asked, sounding exasperated.

"I don't know!" Harry said, because he'd puzzled over the very same question. "Maybe it has something to do with the fact that your blood runs through me and my blood runs through you."

"I see," Snape said. "As long as it wasn't only me."

"Sir?"

"As long as I wasn't the only one being affected by the blood adoption." Harry almost smiled.

"So does that mean that we're going to try?"

"I don't need you to look after me," Snape said. "I'm more than capable, thank you." Harry nodded and looked disappointed.

"Then I can take care of myself too." Harry's voice was hollow. "Shall we continue with Occlumency?" Snape rose and attacked Harry's mind, but Harry pushed back equally hard. It was the force of Harry's emotions that gave him strength against Snape. The exertion was so much that Harry fell against Snape. Snape caught him and supported him.

"Was it my father?" he asked weakly, still in Snape's arms.

"What nonsense are you babbling now?"

"Was it my father who did it to you?" Harry asked again, slightly stronger. "Or Sirius? Is that why you hate them so much?"

"Did what? Talk sense, Potter!" Snape almost shook Harry, but didn't, Harry felt, because of his word. Harry took a moment to be able to spit out the words.

"Did they - violate you?" His voice was not above a hoarse whisper.

"Did they - ? What? No!" Snape stammered. "They were jerks, yes, but not - not like that!" Harry saw his opportunity to press Snape further.

"Then who?"

"No one!"

"I'm not a fool! Despite what you may think!" Both were shouting at the other. "Father," Harry added quietly, for emphasis.

"You won't rest until I tell you," Snape observed.

"Exactly," Harry confirmed. "Who did it?"

"'Who does it?'" Snape corrected. "Not did - does." Snape glared at Harry, who looked horrified. Harry felt like he was going to choke on something. He'd only thought about something having happened to Snape in the past. How? How could it be a continuing thing for Snape? What would - what could - make Snape suffer something like that?

"Then who does it?" Harry asked, still in shock. Snape looked at him long and hard, as if weighing the information.

"The Dark Lord, now go," he said all in one breath. "You have your information, now leave."

"Voldemort?" Harry asked, stunned, totally ignoring the instructions to leave. Snape hissed at him as he grabbed his left forearm.

"Don't use his name!" Snape growled. "Unless you wish to cause me pain."

"Sorry, sir," Harry said, sincere. "I - I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't." Snape's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"The Dark Lord?" Harry amended.

"That's what I said, wasn't it?" Snape said, his voice almost breaking, Harry thought, as he still seemed in pain. Harry truly hadn't known that Voldemort's named would cause Snape pain like that. He would be careful to never say it around Snape again.

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "But - why?"

"Why did your uncle - ?"

"Because, well because he didn't have anyone else, and I couldn't run away!"

"You've answered your own question," Snape said, his voice quiet, and the lingering signs of pain faded.

"But you - you don't have to be around him, do you?" Harry pressed.

"I'm sure you're already well acquainted with the fact that I am a spy," Snape drawled. "Name one other person who could carry intelligence from the Dark Lord to Dumbledore."

"There isn't one," Harry muttered, wincing.

"Exactly."

"Does Dumbledore know?"

"Of course," Snape said, raising an eyebrow. "You don't think I've begged to be released from this?"

"Then why doesn't he find another person? Create a new spy if necessary?"

"Because I am still the best choice, both for believability and Occlumency skills," Snape said, taking his seat again.

"And why don't you just quit? Dumbledore can't make you if you refuse!"

"This is true," Snape conceded. "But I can't refuse."

"Why not? Why don't you just stop being a spy?"

"Then who would protect you?" Snape's voice was deathly quiet, and he raised his eyes to look at Harry. The pain in them made Harry recoil suddenly.

"What?" he asked, his voice as flat as a board.

"Don't you understand, Potter?" Snape said, his voice suddenly tight with emotion. "Don't you understand?" He banged his hand on the desk for emphasis as he rose. "Someone needs to keep intelligence traveling between Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, and I'm the only one who can! I do it to keep you safe. I loved your mother, and I swore to protect you. If this is how I need to protect you, then let it be." Harry heard Snape's voice from a few days ago echo in his mind. "You've no idea how much I've given up for you."

"You're right," Harry mumbled, "I had no idea. I'm sorry." He met Snape's eyes, and tried to communicate his sincerity.

"It's not your fault," Snape said, rolling his eyes. "It's no one's fault but the Dark Lord's."

"Yes, it is!" Harry shouted, bringing his fist down on the desk in emphasis. "It's the fault of anyone who knows and doesn't do anything about it. They're just as guilty as Vol - I mean, the Dark Lord!"

"No!" Snape shouted back at him. "It doesn't work that way. Even when Dumbledore has offered me a chance of escape, how can I, when there's no one else to fill my place? How can I not spy when the Dark Lord will simply call me back?"

"What do you mean?"

"When I joined the Death Eaters, I signed my fate," Snape said in a long suffering way. "The Dark Lord can summon me whenever he pleases - whether or not I spy at all. I may as well be summoned and spy rather than simply be summoned." Harry bit his lip and nodded. "Now go," Snape said weakly. He ran his hand over his face, as he leaned back in his chair. "Please, just go." Harry stepped around Snape's desk, and placed his hand gently on Snape's shoulder.

"When someone told you the very same thing, you said that was the last thing he needed," Harry said quietly. Snape sighed and nodded almost imperceptibly. He placed his hand over Harry's.