The door clicked as Potter left. Severus sighed, as he rolled the warm mug of chocolate in his hands thoughtfully. He crossed his legs and took a sip as he stared off into the fire. He was more concerned about Potter than he was willing to let on. The boy had taken his home situation hard - as he should.

It was amazing, Severus thought, how much a simple mug of chocolate could do for a person. It was a favorite remedy of his, actually, which was why he introduced it to Potter. It wasn't like the boy had cooperated much though. In a way, Severus was glad of Potter's lack of cooperation. The horror was still fresh in his mind, and it still appalled him. He was still in a state of shock over it. There was a certain innocence in that, which Severus envied.

It was probably because of how long it had been going on for him, he thought. It had only taken a few months after he'd signed on with the Death Eaters for it to begin. Severus wasn't even sure how it had begun entirely. Maybe it was when Bellatrix had turned the Dark Lord down. There was the odd word, or the lingering touch for a few months. Little things that Severus tried to shrug off even when he noticed them - most of the time he didn't notice though. It was only in looking at his memories in the pensieve was he able to see how his master had groomed him. The Dark Lord earned his trust and then violated it and him in one blow, but it was too late.

It had happened so much, so often, that a cup of chocolate and a few pages of parchment were all the therapy he needed now. Or felt he needed. He didn't like seeing Potter in such distress over what had happened. But he knew that becoming like himself was not the answer. Definitely not the answer. Long ago he had resigned himself to his fate and accepted it. For him, there was no escape.

When he first joined the Death Eaters, he agreed to do the Dark Lord's bidding at every turn. Never questioning, only obedience. It was his job to make his lord's potions and do whatever else he commanded. During his youth, his blind trusting youth, this had not bothered him nearly as much as it should have. He was fine with following the every whim of his lord, because he had chosen who he would follow. It was control without control. He felt he had made the choice yet bore no responsibility. Which, he knew now, was not the case. He would always bear responsibility for his actions, because no one else could be responsible for them.

And once he sought escape from the Death Eaters, when Lily's life was threatened, Dumbledore's only offer was that of spying. He took it, because it was a way to redeem himself for his foolish actions as an impressionable teenager. It was the only way to make up for putting the woman he loved in danger, and eventually killing her, even if inadvertently.

But even as that lonely Halloween night had brought an eternal pain of remorse to his heart, it also freed him from his lord. For his new found freedom, he was secretly grateful, and for that he also felt the twin pain guilt. He had a hard time grasping the idea that anything good could have come from that night. The tragedy was too complete, too terrible, for there to be anything good come out of it for him. Yet, it had.

For a few years, he lived in peace. Or at least, as much peace as he could ever hope to find. Yes, the remorse and guilt pressed on him every hour of every day. Most people would not have called that peace, Severus thought. But for him, it had been. Then the Dark Lord returned, and remembered. He remembered his faithful dog. Severus unconsciously made a face as he thought that. The Dark Lord remembered, and began to summon him. He bore it all with the stoicism of an ancient Greek philosopher. There was nothing else he could do. He couldn't refuse his master without revealing his true colors, without compromising his position as a spy. And he couldn't afford to do that.

There was Lily's child to protect and, though him, the whole of the world. Not only the wizards, but the muggles as well. The Dark Lord would not stop at simply ruling the wizarding world. He would demand the surrender and slavery of every non-magical creature on planet earth as well. Perhaps he was overrating his importance, he thought. But no, as the only spy in this war, he didn't think he was. He truly was a key piece in the elaborate chess game between the Dark Lord and Dumbledore. Without him, the delicate balance of power would be irreparably disrupted. He voluntarily continued with his line of work for the sake of others. He didn't feel that he could justify saving himself, broken as he was, over saving the rest of the world.

Hero complex, he snorted into his chocolate. Better watch it, or I'll turn into a blasted Gryffindor.

.oO-Oo.

Harry wandered up to the Gryffindor common room, which was busy with the hustle and bustle of student life. He stepped in, and was immediately greeted by Ron and Hermione.

"Hey, mate," Ron said, "where have you been?"

"With Snape," Harry said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"All night?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"Remedial potions ran late," Harry replied defensively. "And he wasn't about to take me back so he just had me stay down there with him."

"Sounds more like a torture sentence," Ron muttered. Harry smirked and nodded. It was expected of him, and honestly, that conversation that morning had been something of a torture session, though he knew Snape had not intended to make it so. He followed his friends to a small table in the corner. Apparently Ron had been copying from Hermione again, because Ron quickly started comparing the two essays.

"Which one is that?" Harry asked.

"The one for Snape on what we think that dragons' bane does to the dragon's physiology," Ron replied offhandedly. "You got it done yet?"

"Uh, no," Harry stammered. "Can I use yours, Hermione?"

"Honestly," Hermione sighed. "You would think you two couldn't do your own work for a change?"

"Sorry," Harry muttered. "I can do it." He pulled out a roll of parchment and his potions text and started to scribble a few words. He had just reached that point of concentration where one loses awareness of the outside world when Hermione slammed her book shut. Harry looked up, surprised, and found her glaring at him.

"What?" he said, genuinely confused.

"What's up with you and Snape?" she demanded quietly.

"Who says anything's up?" Harry deflected.

"Oh, come on," she sighed, "it doesn't take a genius to figure out that something's up. Even Ron noticed."

"Hey!" Ron protested over Hermione's lecture.

"You've been spending an awful lot of time with Snape lately," she continued, unflapped by Ron's interruption. "More than strictly necessary for 'remedial potions.' The Headmaster had you go to see him earlier this week, and now you've spent the night with Snape."

"I did not!" Harry said, suddenly paling, looking rather panicked.

"Then where were you?" Ron demanded. "You just told us - "

"Oh," Harry said, "sorry, never mind. Nothing. Yeah, what I told you." He blushed a furious crimson and covered his face as he placed his elbows on the table. Hermione was almost smirking at him.

"You didn't think I was suggesting - ?"

"Nothing! It was nothing!" Harry mumbled sheepishly through his hands. "Just forget it."

"Fine," Hermione said, "but what's going on?"

"Absolutely nothing," Harry said, once he got himself under control, in what he hoped was his most convincing tone of voice. Ron made a face at him.

"Look, Harry," Hermione reasoned, "We're your friends. Whatever's been going on, you can trust us. Really. It's what friends are for, and we want to be there for you." Harry looked undecided for a moment. He really did want to unburden his soul to them, but he felt he shouldn't. He couldn't force them to consider the things he went through, the memories he lived with.

"Fine," Harry agreed reluctantly. "Snape adopted me." He wouldn't have to explain all the details of life at the Dursleys. If he kept the explanations short and simple, maybe Hermione and Ron would quit asking questions. Well, it certainly shut them up for the moment, Harry thought to himself. They both were blinking stupidly at him, almost owlishly.

"What?" Ron finally said, his tone absolutely flat.

"Why?" Hermione said right behind that.

"Snape adopted me because Dumbledore didn't like my home conditions apparently," Harry said with a shrug. "You know, like the bars on the window and the cat flap and stuff." As long as he referenced only things they knew about, then he wouldn't have to explain any further.

"And Dumbledore thinks Snape is going to be better?" Ron scoffed.

"Well," Harry stammered and shrugged. "He hasn't done anything too horrible yet." He tried to smile at them. "It's really not that bad. Really. Just Snape takes his job seriously, I guess, and he, I don't know, sort of wants to talk to me now."

"Wants to?" Ron asked skeptically.

"Well, feels he has to," Harry amended. "If he's going to have a son," he made an unpleasant face, "then he probably should initiate some contact."

"Why didn't you tell us earlier?" Hermione asked, sounding almost hurt.

"Because - " Harry started and then paused. "Well, because I didn't want you guys to make fun of it. Or try to do something stupid to 'rescue' me from it. Honestly, I didn't know it was going to happen until it was already done, the adoption ceremony, I mean. So - there wasn't anything you could do anyway. And there still isn't. And I'd rather people didn't generally know, so if you can just - not tell people?"

"Of course, Harry," Ron said, extending a sympathetic hand. "Can't be easy having Snape for a father." Harry gave an amused snort.

"Can't be easy having me for a son," he joked, though there was a bitter undertone. Ron gave Harry's arm a firm squeeze in response.

"So you're Harry Snape now?" Hermione asked. "That sounds so - so weird. Harry Snape."

"Yeah, I guess so," Harry agreed. "At least legally. But I'll always be the famous Harry Potter."

"No," Hermione said, smiling a little bit, "you'll always be Harry." He smiled softly at her and nodded his appreciation.

.oO-Oo.

Dear Sirius,

Most of the owls have the letters censored before they can be delivered now. I had Hermione put a delay on the ink so Umbridge can't read what I've really written, but by the time you get it, you should be able to read this. If not, well, I guess I just wasted an evening trying to write to you.

There's some things I think you should know, simply because you're my godfather, if you don't already know them. Chief among them being that Snape adopted me. I'm not sure how else to tell you. It just happened all at once for me too. Maybe that's why I can't break it to you slowly. Dumbledore performed the blood adoption ceremony, and approved of the arrangement. I really didn't get much say in the matter. When do I ever? It just happened, and now suddenly, I'm Snape's son.

Please don't be angry about it. I'm sure Dumbledore would have picked you if the Ministry weren't after you and all. I'll be fine, I promise. Snape's been rather decent all in all, really. Scary, yeah, but he hasn't hurt me at all. He even gave me hot chocolate once. It's almost - nice with him, you know? Maybe you don't, but it's like I know what I can expect from him. He's a constant, and he doesn't change, or at least not easily.

I think it might be a side effect of the adoption magic, but it actually bothers me when people insult him now. I don't really understand it. It just does. Like when Ron or someone calls him a name, it almost feels like it reflects on me. I know they don't mean it - heck, no one even knows about this other than Ron, Hermione, and the teachers - but I still don't like it. And Snape hasn't let Malfoy get away with much in Potions anymore. It's almost a strange protectiveness that we've found. I don't think he actually likes me any better than he ever did, but he's done a good job of looking out for me.

I hope everything's well with you. I might be able to come see you for Easter. I know you wanted me to come for Christmas, as did I, and I'm sorry about that. Thanks for everything.

Your godson,

Harry

Sirius didn't know what to make of the letter. It wasn't like Harry to say anything even vaguely positive about Snape. And this whole adoption business. He wasn't sure what Dumbledore had up his sleeve. But he didn't like it at all that Snape had adopted his godson. Like Harry had pointed out, he should have been the one to adopt the boy if anyone was going to adopt him.

But no, Dumbledore just handed Harry over to the overgrown dungeon bat and didn't even consult him about it. Snape picked on Harry. Everyone knew that, so why would the headmaster have chosen that one to care for the boy? It made no sense to him. He was repulsed by the thought that Snape was now Harry's father. James was Harry's father, and would always - always - be Harry's father. No matter what a deluded old man and a Death Eater might say.

.oO-Oo.

Harry knew Sirius would have a hard time accepting the fact that Snape had adopted him. That's why he tried to put in as many positive things about Snape as he could. He didn't want Sirius to worry about him either. Honestly, Harry didn't think he had much to worry about with Snape, other than perhaps the occasional session of relentless questions breaking down his walls and finding out his secrets.

But there was a certain comfort, Harry realized, in having someone else know. He might not like Snape particularly, but he did feel close. A combination of the adoption and secret sharing, he figured. He felt protective as well. Harry wondered if this was how Snape felt too. Because apparently the man had feelings.

Harry hadn't seen Sirius since - well, he couldn't rightly remember the last time he'd seen his godfather. It had been a long time. He hoped that Sirius wouldn't take the news of his adoption too hard. The man cared about him deeply, Harry knew. He would feel angry and jealous, Harry was sure. But Harry believed that Azkaban had unhinged a few doors, so to speak, in Sirius' mind. He didn't think his godfather was right in the head all the time. But then, who would be after spending twelve years with dementors? Harry knew he would be in pieces after just a few moments against them without his wand and patronus. How many times had he passed out again? And he knew his reactions would only have gotten worse. It was a miracle that Sirius still could form a coherent sentence. It was too much to expect the man to always be rational. After twelve years without a happy thought or a glimpse of joy, Harry thought that Sirius was doing remarkably well.

He simply hoped that his godfather would be as willing to understand him as he was to understand his godfather.

Hedwig flew into the common room. It had been several days since he sent that letter to Sirius, and she had a parchment tied to her leg. As quickly as he could, Harry untied the letter and began to read.

Dear Harry,

I am deeply concerned about your news. All of it. But especially the second and more personal thing. The first is something to be expected from government like that. Why would such a thing have happened? Harry, be careful. I don't trust the man. I don't trust his loyalties or his motivations, and I don't trust that he will look out for your best interests. I also wonder why the headmaster approved this. It worries me.

I look forward to seeing you over Easter.

Padfoot

Well. This type of response probably wasn't to be entirely unexpected. Of course it was vague and cryptic because Sirius didn't know (and neither did Harry) whether Umbridge was going to read the incoming mail too. Sirius wasn't stupid. But Harry was still a little upset that he didn't see that Snape was loyal, and that he was looking out for Harry's best interests.

But then, Harry reminded himself, two weeks ago, wouldn't he have thought the same as Sirius? It had only been with very personal revelations and the magic of the adoption that Harry's opinion of Snape had begun to change. Yet Sirius didn't trust him to make the judgement. Harry wanted to scribble out a reply berating his godfather for judging a man before learning his story. And if he did that, he would thoroughly berate himself for making the same mistake as well. But it wasn't his secret to give, and he wouldn't violate Snape's trust, albeit given grudgingly.

If only Sirius could know what Snape had given up - and still gave up - to help him, Harry! Then Sirius wouldn't question Snape's loyalties. Then he wouldn't question Snape's motivations. Then maybe, just maybe, Sirius would be able to accept that Snape adopted him.

.oO-Oo.

The world was made up of black and white. You were either good or bad. It was the thought that he had clung to for twelve years. And he couldn't give it up now, not after that long. Not after what that belief had done for him. And he'd been thrown in Azkaban believing Snape to be the bad, black Death Eater. He couldn't change his mind now.

Why couldn't Dumbledore see it? The man was making a grave mistake giving his godson's care over to the sniveling coward. He had always had absolute faith in Dumbledore. But if he couldn't see it - wait, no, maybe... Sirius cast the thought aside. It was impossible. Maybe Dumbledore did see. Maybe he didn't care. Or maybe he was really involved in some darker plot than Sirius had ever suspected.

His world came crashing down. Dumbledore? Could it be, that in twelve years, somehow he'd gotten his prioreties messed up? And maybe Snape and Dumbledore were in league somehow. Dumbledore had betrayed him. He had betrayed everyone.

Sirius had often felt bitter and angry at the followers of the Light. How had they been so hasty as to throw him in Azkaban without even hearing the evidence in his favor? What if it had been because Dumbledore hadn't really cared?

Suddenly everything made sense to him. He had been sent to Azkaban because Dumbledore had his own agenda. Snape really wasn't a Death Eater - he was Dumbledore's lapdog. And they were both using Harry. Why hadn't he seen this earlier? Why hadn't Remus seen it?

He pressed his palms against his forehead, his mind racing. The poor boy. He was being manipulated, and he didn't even know it. Well, there was only thing he could think of to save his godson. It was risky, very dangerous, and absolutely ridiculous. Perfect plan, he thought wryly. If Dumbledore controlled one side of the war, then perhaps he could parley with the other side. He could see what You-Know-Who himself had to say about matters.

Sure, he didn't like the whole pure-blood only regime, but he didn't like Dumbledore's form of injustice either. And he wanted Harry out of the reach of anyone who would try to use him. His only hesitation was that You-Know-Who really wasn't all the fond of Harry either. But perhaps - perhaps - he could convince him to take action against Snape, heck, even against Dumbledore himself. If he got rid of those two, Harry would be safe from them, and someone else could take over for them. Sirius was sure there had to be someone who would respect Harry.

If Dumbledore and Snape were the black, then who was the white?