"It is never wise to anger the dead" he said softly.

Severus and Poppy both snapped their heads to him so quickly, Harry was sure they could have gotten whiplash.

"Harry!" Madam Pomfrey let out, surprised. "Oh my goodness, you gave us all one hell of a scare, child." she told him, as she began to scan him once again, now that he was awake.

While the Mediwitch ran her scans, Harry's mind wandered to one thing. His mother had left him something. Something she clearly, very dearly, wanted him to know. Harry had no clue where any of his things were, but the man beside him would. Gathering his courage, like the any Gryffindor, he finally found his voice just enough for...

"Professor?" he asked very quietly.

Severus almost didn't hear him. He tried to look the boy in the eye but Harry lay in his bed, fidgeting with the bed clothes, refusing to look anywhere in his direction.

"Not that I really blame him",Severus thought.

Severus had no clue how he was going to fix the mess of a relationship he now had with his son, but he knew he had to try. Truly, Harry was well within rights to tell him to sod off and walk away from him. Severus knew that was a possibility and feared it. He had missed so much of his son's life, had refused to see what was right in front of him this whole time. Though it may very well take an act of Merlin himself to repair the last 14 years of damage to this boy, four of which he only amplified, Severus was certain that he could not run out of fear. For now, he figured answering him would be a good place to start.

"Yes Harry, are you alright?" the Potions Master asked him calmly, yet gently, so as not to frighten him.

As he waited patiently for Harry to answer him , he noticed something. The poor child seemed to want something. The man could see his eyes shifting around looking for whatever it was, almost desperately, and yet he seemed nearly afraid to ask for it. Severus had to assure him that, whatever it may be, there was no harm on asking.

"Harry?" he pushed. Harry continued to look anywhere but at the man sitting next to his bed, even as said man got up and slowly sat down on the bed in order to get his attention. His frail hand kept fidgeting while the other was held still at his side.

"Harry, please look at me, my child." Severus pleaded. He barely noticed the epitaph that had slipped off his slips.

He had no idea how Harry might take his "evil git, Potions Professor" calling him his child, but at the moment he really didn't care. Severus slowly reached a hand out, and gently put two of his fingers under his son's chin lifting his head until the two were eye to eye.

Black met green for almost a full minute before Harry let out a choked response.

"My letter...it was on the desk..." he nearly whispered. Severus could see there were tears beginning to form in those emerald orbs.

"It's alright child, it's there on the stand beside your bed." he assured.

As Harry's head swiveled around to confirm his professor's words, said man watched as the boy's body nearly melted in relief when he saw that his mother's treasured letter to her only son was safe.

He knew that Harry would not just immediately accept him, no matter what he may or may not remember. He was also sure that Harry would want to read those words from Lily alone. Severus understood that feeling of having something of Lily that he didn't want to be shared. He had every intention of showing his letter to his son but he still felt, his son being the exception, that her words to him were his and his alone. He would not take such a treasure away from her son.

"Harry, if it's alright with you, I would like to send a message to Ms. Granger, letting her know that you are indeed in safe hands. She seemed very worried for your safety." he cautiously asked.

Harry's head snapped around for a second before he brought it down to his chest again, nodding his acceptance to the idea.

"Thank you professor, I would really appreciate that." he admitted shyly.

"You are very welcome Harry. I will leave you in Poppy's hands for now, and I'll be back to see how you are doing in the morning." he told him calmly.

Though Harry was surprised, he didn't want to turn down the company.

"Yes, sir. Goodnight." Harry answered politely.

"Goodnight, my child." was Severus's reply.

As Harry watched his professor leave he could have sworn he saw the man's lips lift upward into a smile.

Harry may be more than just a little out of it, but he had a pretty good memory. As he lay there in bed, waiting for Madam Promfrey to finish assessing him, he recalled the snippets of memories that had assaulted his mind while in the professor's arms. His mother, James Potter, and . . . Professor Snape. He knew he would have to face it eventually, knew that he and the Hogwarts Potions Master were in need of one hell of a conversation. For now he intended to lay back, relax under Madam's Pomfrey's gentle care, and rest. For the first time in weeks, he felt safe again.

"Harry, love, you're in for a rough week." The Medi-Witch informed him, bringing him out of his musings for the moment. He could hear the apology in her tone.

"How much damage this year?" Harry asked her. She was nearly shocked to hear him sound almost bored. She sighed. He was too used to this after all.

Poppy let out another sigh before answering her favorite patient.

"Your back, ribs, and left wrist are going to be the problem. Those welts will need to be treated every day before you go to bed and also throughout the day if they get irritated. Your ribs are healed but still severely bruised and will be very sore for the remainder of the week. I insist you to rest and not over-exert yourself, please. Also the bones in your left wrist were crushed." The witch nearly growled out the last part. "To be on the safe side, while the potion does its job, I've put a muggle cast on the wrist to keep anything from happening to it that might damage it further. Be sure not to get that cast wet, alright? I'll check on everything again at the end of the week and see what to do then, ok, Harry?" she informed him.

The concern in her eyes made him feel warm. He may not like having to lie around all day but right now he decided to let the kind woman hover all she wanted.

"Yes, ma'am, thank you." he answered softly, even offering up a small smile for her. He got a caring smile in return.

"Oh you are most welcome, love. Now relax and get some rest. I put some Dreamless Sleep Potion in the stand here should you need it. Sleep if you want to Harry, I promise there will be no one to bother you here." she assured him kindly before running a soothing hand over his head and going off towards he office for the night.

As Harry laid back in his bed, his shoulders finally able to relax, he knew he was closer to home than he had ever been.

As Severus entered his private quarters, he let out a breath he hadn't evn realized he had benn holding. In the Owlery, he had magically penned a message to Ms. Granger assuring the girl of Harry's safety. He would have used a school owl but, Hedwig, it appeared, had been watching him with a keen eye and had snatched the parchment and took off toward Kensington before he could blink.

Now back in the dungeons, Severus took a moment to think.

Harry Potter was his son.

IS my son, he corrected himself.

Harry knew it too, of that the Potions Master was certain. As he sat down on his bed he thought over the boy's behavior in the hosptial wing. Harry hadn't seemed afraid of him. He hadn't even seemed all that surprised by his professor's sudden change in demeanor around him. He was however, rather skittish, amlost as if hewere afraid of something.

Severus's mind was a whirlwind of possible answers. His eyes's moved around the room as he pondered until they fell on Lily's letter resting on his bedside cabinet.

The letter.

Harry's letter from . . . Lily.

There was always the belief that the attack on Harry was the reason he had no memories of his parents or the only year he had ever had with them. With Lily's word's ringing in his ears, Severus now knew the real reason. His son's memories had been taken from him as his own had been.

He didn't believe for a second that Harry might be afraid of those memories. He knew without a doubt how the young man had struggled with not remembering a parent's love... his mother's love. What Severus now believed was that Harry had no idea that Severushimself had memories of being his father. The boy was uncertain of how Severus would react to such information. He wasn't afraid of the Potions Master himself, but of ...

rejection.

The weight of knowing his son was afraid of, yet practically expecting to be turn away fell heavy on Severus's heart. He loved his son. His beautiful, bright, special little boy. He had been robbed of that love and affection for his child and they both were suffering. While Severus could blame his own father for being uncertain of fatherhood, it nearly killed him to know that Harry could do the same with his own uncertainies.

He laid back in his bed remembering the days of holding his baby boy in the safety of his arms, watching him sleep or his smile light up the world around them. Only one negative thought penatrated his peaceful dreams as he succombed to sleep that night.

What have I done?

Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore had never been a heavy sleeper by any stretch of the imagination. Still, when alarming shrills rang through his office and into his chambers, it shocked him clear out of bed and had him bound of to his shelves.

As he entered his office the first thing he noticed nearly sent the old man into a panic. On the shelf behind his desk sat a very exclusive monitoring insrtument for a muggle home in Surrey; the thing was going bloddy haywire.

Albus knew that such a racket coming from this device could only mean one thing.

Harry has left the confines of Petunia's home, he rationalized.

As the headmaster began to pace his office, trying to find some way to get Harry back to him and where he needed to be, his eyes caught something on his desk that hadn't bee there earlier. He made his over and as he got near enough, began to read.

It was a letter.

A letter, with words that made Albus Dumbledore's blood run cold.

You picked the wrong child - L