Harry glanced up shyly at the headmaster, glasses brushing the too-long fringe of his bangs.

"We need to get you a haircut," Snape said decisively. He folded his copy of the morning paper and took a sip of his orange juice. "I refuse to allow a son of mine to be seen looking ragged." A brief shudder shook the man's shoulders.

The Gryffindor grinned at his adoptive father's antics. For so long he had wished for someone to care about him - more than his friends ever could - but he had never in his wildest dreams considered that Snape would be that person. It would be three months on Tuesday since the adoption became official and Harry woke up each morning certain that it was all some horrible, wonderful dream. He looked around the headmaster's office where they often ate together away from the prying eyes of suspicious students. Taking a bite out of his french toast, Harry frowned.

"Is something bothering you?" Snape asked.

Harry shook his head quickly.

The headmaster sighed. "Harry, you don't have to carry your burdens alone any longer. I shall keep reminding you of that fact until it penetrates that thick Gryffindor skull of yours." His dark eyes were piercing. "What's wrong?"

Blushing, the boy ducked his head and muttered. "Some of the blokes in sixth year think you...might have slipped me some kind of..." his ears turned bright red, "Lovepotionorsomething." He finished in a rush of words.

Snape stared at him, face blank, and then burst out laughing. It was contagious and soon Harry found himself giggling into his cup of pumpkin juice.

Wiping tears from his eyes, the Slytherin shook his head. "As thrilling as it is being subject of such ridiculous rumors, I had thought your housemates were past this childish behavior."

"Yeah, me too, but I guess you were just too good at keeping up your 'image'," Harry said.

Snape made a grunt of agreement and took another sip of juice.

"Can I sleep in your quarters tonight?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Our quarters, Harry," Snape pressed, "And, yes. As I said at the start of term, you are welcome to your rooms at any time."

A warm glow filled the boy's stomach at the soft words. He still had to get used to being wanted; it was nice and made him feel special. He tried not to let the relief show on his face. Taking away the privilege of his cousin's second bedroom had been a favorite punishment of the Dursley's. Snape was watching him, a knowing look on his pinched face. Harry went back to his eating, not wanting to discuss his relatives and their treatment of him. His father let him without saying anything.

They continued to eat in companionable silence.

-

Harry let his book bag drag on the floor beside him. It thump, thump, thumped loudly down each staircase he took, but the boy was too exhausted to care. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher seemed to think that Harry needed taken down a peg because of the fame that came with being the one who killed Voldemort. It reminded the boy of a time when Snape treated him with the same aloof disregard. Those memories left an ache in his chest that refused to go away. He knew that Snape didn't think about him that way anymore, but it was all too easy to recall the man's expressions of cold hatred. Head bowed, Harry continued to the headmaster's quarters.

When he arrived, Snape was nowhere oin asight.

"Dad?"

"In here," a muffled voice answered from the potions lab Snape had set up in a room off to the left.

Harry let his book bag drop on the floor next to the couch as he passed it before entering the lab. A sharp disinfectant scent assaulted Harry's senses. He wrinkled his nose in distaste and opened his mouth to comment on it when he caught sight of his father. Snape was bent over a large cauldron that had been set in the middle of the floor. The Slytherin was wearing a black and yellow jumper with the head of a badger lovingly stitched on the chest. Snape glanced up, saw his expression, and turned a deep shade of pink. The resulting colidascope of colors on the usually monochromatic man made Harry dizzy.

"Laundry day," Snape supplied grimly. He turned back to the cauldron which Harry could now see was bubbling around black robes. "I'd rather the house elves not deal with them. Some of the potion ingredients can be quite explosive."

Harry gave his father a look of exasperated affection. The more he learned about the man, the more the Snape in his memories seemed like a completely different person. Maybe they were.

"Do you want to help?" Snape asked, brushing a wave of raven black hair behind his ear.

"Sure. It's not everyday you get the chance to see the headmaster in his skivvies," Harry said cheekily.

Snape glanced down looking surprised to see he was in nothing but a Hufflepuff jumper and briefs with little brooms flying about in a sky of clouds. The flaming pink on his cheeks turned a deep red and Harry watched as the man tried to discreetly pull down the sweater so that it could cover more of him. Trying not to laugh in the face of his father's embarrassment, Harry turned his attention to the cauldron. The ache in his chest was gone, replaced by a sense of peace and a love so strong it almost overwhelmed the boy.

"What do you need me to do?" Harry asked.

"Actually, if you could watch this batch until I come back," Snape made a hasty retreat, pulling down the back of his shirt to cover his bum, all the while trying to appear as dignified as possible.

Once he heard the headmaster's bedroom door click shut, Harry gave in to the laughter and doubled over, gasping for breath.

He loved his father.