July 25

The day started quite early, but no earlier than Harry was used to; he and Professor Snape arrived in the main room of the tower quarters before the sun was had risen. Harry surmised that the rooms must have belonged to Arabella in the past. It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the dark, but once they did he was surprised to find it completely empty. The boxes, trunks and covered furniture that had littered the room for the past two weeks were gone. With a wave of his wand, the Professor lit the candles in the hurricane lamps, on the fireplace mantle, hearth and in the chandeliers that hung from beams in the high ceiling.

For the first time, Harry took a good look around the room. Arabella's quarters were located in the tower directly above the dungeons. Unlike Gryffindor Tower, however, the room was square. With light filling the room he could see that the stone walls had been plastered and painted in a smoky blue color. The colors had long since faded but there were several odd spots on the walls where the paint was darker because of the draped paintings that had hung there until yesterday. He watched the Professor look around the room; his expression was almost soft or thoughtful, as if the man saw something other than an empty room and faded walls.

Curious to know what Snape was thinking about, Harry asked, "Professor, were these Arabella's rooms before?"

His question obviously startled the Professor, who spun around to face him; the Professor's previously open expression morphed into his usual controlled visage and a familiar harsh and stern gleam flashed in his eyes. His eyes softened again a moment later.

"Yes, these were our quarters," he said a bit sharply and turned away from him. "Come, Harry." Snape moved quickly toward the stairwell and stopped beside the wall beneath the stairs. Snape tapped the panels in a pattern; suddenly the center panel slid to the side to reveal an opening the size of a cupboard. Harry could feel his body tense as Snape began to step inside then hesitated and turned back to look towards him. Tentatively, the Professor reached out and grasped Harry's arm, gently pulling him toward the opening.

"It a secret passage, much like the one to the headmaster's office. This platform will take us to my private lab. It's quicker and we can go down together." He said as he maneuvered them both into the space. Harry could feel his father's hand resting firmly on his shoulder as the door closed and the alcove itself seemed to shift and descend. A short time later, the panel slid open again and the Professor gently pushed Harry out and guided him straight toward a stone wall.

"Arrdan.gos[1]," the Professor said suddenly as he continued to walk straight for the wall.

Harry barely noticed what Snape said as he tripped through the wall. Light filled the room he crossed into and he was surprised to find himself in what appeared to be the Professor's private rooms. It was nothing like he would have guessed. The dark brooding colors and the uncluttered Spartan dŽcor did fit with his imagination, but the plush, cozy sofa and armchairs complete with throw blankets were far from his expectations. The sound of his father clearing his throat caught Harry's attention; he looked up to see his father smirking him.

"Expecting Maids of Iron and coffins, were you?" Snape said in his usual tone - a flat, cold voice. Harry shifted away from him on reflex. The man staring back at him in that moment seemed every inch of the cold and cruel Professor he had known for four years. After a several moments of staring at each other, the Professor closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He watched the man's features became less rigid and when the Professor opened his eyes again, the coldness was no longer there. "Would you care for some breakfast?" he said as he gestured toward a small round table on the far side of the room.

Harry nodded and followed the Professor to the table and took the seat opposite of him. His father gestured for him to help himself to the fruit as he summoned a house elf and a small, knobby creature appeared with a pop beside him.

"How may Sarri help you, Professor Snape, sir?"

Harry nibbled at some fruit while the Professor made his request; Harry then made his own breakfast order and watched the house elf disappear with a loud pop. An awkward silence engulfed the room with the elf's departure. He kept his attention on the fruit he ate, not knowing what to say to the man sitting across from him. He was still confused about what he felt or what he wanted to feel for this man. The previous night had gone a long way in easing tensions, not only between him and his father, but between himself and Arabella and Remus, as well. The food arrived quickly and they ate in silence. Occasionally, he would raise his eyes to watch the man across from him, trying to see something in him that would give Harry more of an idea as to who the man was and what he was thinking.

Harry still couldn't comprehend how a man could treat him like scum for so long and claim to love him at the same time. He couldn't accept it. And there were all the times that Snape had ridiculed his father - James Potter. How could Snape claim to have loved him and yet allowed a person he obviously despised to raise him? And what about the picture and note from when he was five; how could he claim not to have known that Harry was his? How could he have not been curious as to why it was addressed to 'Father' and 'Papa?' The more he thought about it the more agitated he became. In frustration, he stabbed at his food.

"Finished?" the Professor asked.

Harry looked at his plate and felt a bit sheepish seeing it empty. "Yes, Professor," he replied in what he hoped was a neutral tone.

Snape studied him for a minute; Harry could see the unasked questions in his eyes but choose to ignore them. "Good," Snape said, "we have plenty to do today."

The Professor dropped his napkin on his empty plate and rose from his chair walking back toward the wall. Harry rose and followed him. As he approached the wall, Snape turned toward him, "Harry, if you wish, you may address me as Severus. You do not need to stand on formalities while other students are not around." He turned back to the wall before Harry could respond and again said, "arrdan.gos" before they walked through the wall and entered a spotless lab.

"There are work robes on the stand over there," the Professor said as he talked toward what Harry assumed was a storeroom. Walking over to the stand, Harry grabbed a robe, quickly switched it for his own and then took the opportunity to look around the room, noting the multiple worktables, the shelves lined with cauldrons that were ordered not only by size, but apparently by type as well. A large desk sat, angled, in the corner opposite the "entrance" wall; two stacks of extremely neat and bound papers in the center and a lamp in the left corner. In the right corner of the desk sat two picture frames. Walking around the desk, Harry lifted one of the pictures and half-smiled at seeing himself and Arabella when he was nine. The figures in the picture smiled brightly as they waved up at him.

Harry's happiness at seeing the picture was short lived as he quickly remembered that it was taken just moments before the Dursleys had come to retrieve him and how desperate he had been to stay with Arabella. The memory, in turn, reminded him of the letter he had sent Snape asking his Father, his papa, again to come and get him. But Snape had never come; he left him with relatives who hated what he was and who treated him like a slave. Harry put down the picture, sneering as again, his anger at his father flared.

He heard the soft thud of several cauldrons settling on the workbenches, he looked up to see Snape setting out utensils by each cauldron before moving over to the only workstation without a cauldron. He watched Snape pull several bottles, jars and measuring utensils out of a box.

"Are you going to stand there or are you going to be useful and help?" Snape snapped at him, although he never turned to face him.

Harry bit back a retort as he watched Snape carefully measure ingredients for a few more moments before forcing himself to calm down enough to help. He walked around so that he was standing on the opposite side of the bench from the Professor and waited for a minute before finally asking, "What should I do?"

Snape looked up at him and handed him a piece of parchment with a list of ingredients and their measurements. Looking at the list, Harry had to stop himself from doing a double take; the list looked more like ingredients for a cake than a magical potion. There was nutmeg, cinnamon, ginger, vanilla, all-spice; things seemed a bit less incredulous as he neared the bottom and saw powdered dragon's hoof and other familiar, magical ingredients. He looked over to Snape and saw that he was measuring similar ingredients into small glass bowls and decided to follow suit. They worked quietly for several hours, drifting into an uneasy silence. Harry did give Snape credit for at least trying to be polite when he would periodically check the progress of the Harry's potion or offer him guidance. His behavior was definitely a far cry from his attitude in Potion's class. Over time, Harry relaxed a bit.

"SiÉSeverus, may I ask you a question?" Harry asked, scolding himself internally for allowing his voice to shake, even slightly. He spent the past few hours debating the wisdom of asking the question, but he knew he needed to hear the answer from the man's lips. He cautiously looked up from what he was ladling from the cauldron into ornate and colorful glass jars and pans; he tried hard not to burn himself in the process. Snape just looked at him, his face and eyes unreadable; Harry wished he had some clue as to what the man was thinking. It was unnerving being in a room alone with him as it was, too much like detention.

Snape nodded at him before turning back to his task of ladling his potion into a carved silver dish.

"Why didn't you ever come?"

Snape froze. Harry was taken aback when he saw even the subtle shaking of his Professor's hands as he careful lowered his ladle and turned his head so that their eyes met. The Professor's mask was firmly in place, but his eyes were anything but expressionless. For a moment, Harry thought he saw pain there.

"You said you didn't know about me, but the picture I drew - I asked my father to come and get us, get me. But you never came! Why?" The question burst out of Harry before he had a chance to even think of what he was saying. The silence in the room was suffocating; Harry could see Snape struggling for control of his emotions and took an unconscious step backwards.

"I tried." Snape said. His voice was tense and bitter. "And I didn't know; the picture was charmed. Until recently, it was addressed to Uncle Severus." Snape practically snarled the last part before turning back to his empty cauldron, yanking it from the table and carrying it to the sink. Harry watched as the Professor rolled up his sleeves and began scrubbing the cauldron by hand. Turning back to his potion, Harry resumed pouring the concoction into the decorative jars as his mind played out his father's response over and over. He had almost expected an explosion of temper not the controlled anger and pain Snape had displayed.

"What did Bella tell you about why I never came? Did she tell you I was taken to Azkaban?" Snape spoke without facing him, his voice was calm, too calm and it was cold; the tone reminded Harry of too many of his more hateful encounters with the Professor.

"She said the Ministry wouldn't allow either of you custody. And that it wasn't safe. But if you're my father, they couldn't have stopped you, not if you wanted me. Besides, if the wards around the Dursley's really are based on blood-relations than I would have been far safer with you than them." Harry voice shook slightly as he spoke. He tried to keep the edge off his tone, as well, knowing that signs of bitterness and anger wouldn't get him the answers he wanted, but it was hard. He placed the ladle he was holding down and clasped his hands together, hoping to quell the shaky feeling in his limbs. He hated feeling so unsettled and fought the urge to cry or yell that surged up as he spoke.

"And what makes you think you would have been safer with me? I keep company with Death Eaters, or have you forgotten that little fact?" Snape said sharply. Harry was very familiar with the tone; it was the same one Snape had used on him for four years. It was filled with bitterness.

Suddenly, it was too much. He knew now that coming with Snape and spending time alone with him had been a mistake. Regardless of what the man said, he obviously still disliked, if not hated, him and it surprised Harry how much that hurt to realize. He drew his arms around himself as he scanned the room's exits, quickly trying to determine which was the most expedient way to leave. He felt like a fool. He needed to get out of there. He needed to get away from Snape.

"Harry?" Snape's voice called to him questioningly.

Harry barely registered hearing his name as he took a step back. His eyes fixated on the portion of the wall that led to the secret passage back to Arabella's quarters. He wondered if he could get it open and closed again before Snape stopped him. That is, if Snape was even interested in stopping him. Walking quickly around the table, he walked toward the passageway entrance only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Snape turned him around. Shaking off the touch, Harry moved away from Snape but turned to glare at him and wait for the Professor to speak.

"I apologize, Harry. My harshness was uncalled for," Snape said.

Harry continued to glare at him, refusing to acknowledge the sincerity he saw in his father's eyes.

"I think it is time we talked. Perhaps we should take lunch."

At his own acquiescence, Harry walked back to the final simmering cauldron to reduce the heat. When he finished bottling the potion, he took his empty cauldron over to the sink and filled it with water, leaving it to soak. When he turned around Severus was waiting for him by the passage door. With a resigned sigh, he walked over and climbed into the lift and climbed in, squeezing himself into a corner to keep from touching the other man.

When the lift stopped and Harry stepped out in to the room and slouched against the wall, not bothering to look around him as he waited for Snape.

"I was beginning to wonder if you two planned on eating lunch today."

The sound of Arabella's voice caused Harry's head to snap up and turn toward the direction from which the voice emanated. Arabella stood in the center of the room next to a fully set round table, looking more rested than she had been in the past few weeks. She smiled as she walked toward them. Snape immediately walked to greet her and Harry watched as his father extended a hand to Bella, amazed at the seeming intimacy of the motion. Arabella smiled at Severus as she took his hand before facing Harry; he could see the question in her eyes as she studied him. He watched the concern spread from her eyes to the rest of her expression as she threw a questioning glance toward Severus.

"Alright, one of you, out with it." She said in a straight, matter of fact way that allowed no argument; in many ways the tone reminded him of Mrs. Weasley.

"I asked Pr.. Severus why he never came for us," Harry said, "But I just don't understand why I wouldn't have been safer with both of you!"

"Didn't Dumbledore explain to you about your mother's sacrifice - how it protected you?" Severus asked.

"He said it marked me, protected me, but he didn't tell me how."

Snape sighed and closed his eyes momentarily; Arabella placed a comforting hand on his arm and Harry watched the silent communication that passed between them.

"Harry, come on over and have a seat," Bella said, stepping back and tapping one of the chairs at the table.

Walking over, Harry dropped into the seat offered to him, crossing his arms over his chest and waited while the Professor and Arabella took the remaining two seats. They exchanged another look before his father explained, "What Dumbledore told you is only partly true. The magic of your mother's sacrifice has been kept alive all these years by your aunt's willing acceptance of you. Whatever love she has held for you, however minimal, has maintained the protection your mother's sacrifice gave you. That coupled with the Fidelas Charm and several protective wards made Privet Drive the safest place for you. Safer even than Hogwarts."

"It's one of the reasons I never told him, Harry. I wouldn't risk your safety and I had no wish to cause Sev even more pain. As much as I hate to admit it, we couldn't have protected you properly." Bella added, her voice soft and a bit sad. "Even if we had modified the charms on you so that you appeared to be our child, the chance of discovery was still too high."

Harry looked down, not exactly sure what he should be feeling at the moment. At least he understood why he had to stay with the Dursley's now, but at the same time he felt a loss he didn't understand. A soft touch on his hand drew his attention and he looked up into Arabella's compassionate eyes.

"I know you are angry and confused, Harry. You have every right to be." Arabella said.

"If I had any suspicions at the time we cast those spells that I would be separated from you, I would never of allowed it. I would have found another way." His father's voice was soft and full of regret. He sat quietly for a moment, trying to take in and make sense of what the man had said. When Harry eventually looked up he saw his father looking directly at him. His expression was softer than usual which seemed to humanize his features; making him look far from evil, as Harry had once thought. His father's eyes were as intense as ever. Harry felt like the man was willing him to let the words penetrate past the anger, confusion and resentment.

"I don't understand. Why? Weren't the charms supposed to protect me?" Harry asked, his confusion winning out over his desire to stay mad.

"The transfigurations that were used made you resemble James; the potions would have ensured that the spells not only remained effective but grew with you. Lily took it a step further. She mixed a series of charms designed to suggest, both to the conscious and unconscious mind, that you were just like James." Severus paused, glancing briefly toward Bella, who took his hand and squeezed it. "She cast them too well," Severus whispered more to himself than anyone else.

At his father's words, Harry found himself more confused than ever. How could his mother have cast the spells too well? When no answer seemed to be forth coming, he turned his attention to Arabella, who was looking at Severus with such empathy and love that Harry felt humbled and curious. Looking back at his father, he tried again to see beyond his expression. He wanted to see what Arabella saw and felt from him, but all he saw was the usual mask. After a moment, the Professor looked up at him and Harry again noticed the intensity in the man's black eyes.

"The plan was always for me to remain a part of your life, Harry. I could watch you grow up and by the time the subconscious part of the charms started to affect me, I would already have you firmly established in my heart and mind as a separate person. It would have been enough to off-set the charms effects."

"Did you hate my da... James that much?" Harry asked softly.

Snape eyes seemed to lose their focus, as if he were seeing something off in the distance, "As children, yes. I first met James when we were six. I was his and Sirius' favorite object of ridicule. They never passed up a chance to tease me or otherwise make my childhood hell."

A surge of resentment ran through him at Snape's deriding of James Potter. The man's eyes refocused on him, their intensity returning, "I know you don't like to hear it, Harry, but it's the truth. James was the Golden Boy and to him, I was justÉ" his father stopped for a moment, seeming to take a slightly deeper breath.

Harry's felt like his heart stop dead in his chest and then jumpstart and begin to race. What he was suggesting couldn't be true! Snape's comments dredged up memories of Dudley and his friend, Piers, and being called 'Freak'; the idea that James had been like them sickened him. He didn't want to believe it. Looking to Bella, Harry hoped to find denial there but instead saw an expression full of pain and sadness. She was biting her bottom lip and bright tears pooled, making her eyes shine like crystals. Harry looked away as he felt another part of the person he had been and everything he'd believed in die. He felt Bella squeeze his hand; he was peripherally aware of her moving to stand beside him. He felt her wrap her arms around him, drawing his stiff form into a comforting embrace.

Snape whispered something about getting lunch and left the room. Once he was gone, Harry felt his body beginning to relax and felt all the pain and confusion begin to seep through the walls he'd built around himself. He didn't want to cry, he wished he could go back to being angry, he wished he could yell or throw something but he was too tired suddenly to deny the emotions any longer; it just hurt too much to continue holding back the tears. Bella soothed him with her gentle touch, voice and by sending gentle threads of love and acceptance into him.

It took Harry several minutes to regain his composure; as he pulled back from her, Bella placed a hand under his chin, forcing him to look up at her. With her other hand, she brushed it along his face, leaving behind a tingling sensation.

"No more puffy, red eyes," she said, smiling down at him. Her expression grew a bit more serious as she brushed an errant strand of hair away from his face, "Harry, remember that James, for whatever else he may have been, was just human. He did some awful, hateful things; especially in his youth. But he also did some amazing, wonderful things. And he loved you; he loved you very much."

Harry nodded then looked away as the emotions began to well up again, choking off his ability to speak. Arabella placed a bowl of soup and a half sandwich in front of him before taking her seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that his father had returned. The room was quiet except for the sounds of spoons clanking against the ceramic of the bowls.

"Harry, did I tell you about the time Lily and I had James and Sirius introducing themselves as Prat #1 and Prat #2?"

Harry looked up at her question and noted the mischievous look in her eyes as he shook his head. A fleeting glance at the Professor revealed eyes narrowing in warning but a total lack of malice behind them. Harry listened aptly to Arabella as he ate; laughing at his adoptive father's and Sirius' reaction to the charm that compelled them to stand at the most inopportune times to 'introduce themselves.' He snickered at the thought of Sirius standing up in the middle of one of Professor McGonagall's transfiguration lectures to say, "My name is Sirius Alexander Black and I'm a prat #1." It was definitely a charm he wanted to learn; Malfoy wouldn't know what hit him.

After a few more stories and additional sandwiches and bowls of soup, the plates were cleared and the atmosphere in the room grew serious once again.

"I know we have asked a lot of you in the past few weeks, but I am afraid we need to ask a bit more Harry. There is something Severus and I can do to protect Hermione, but we want your blessing." Bella's voice was gentle as she spoke and Harry could see the hope in her eyes.

"My blessing?"

"Yes," Professor Snape responded. "I will not proceed with the current plan without your agreement. It is as much your decision as it is ours."

"What plan?" Harry asked, looking from Severus to Arabella.

"Severus and I have discussed using spells similar to those used on you to disguise Hermione as our daughter. The fact that the only born Healers in the past millennia have come from Figg line will make it that much more believable."

"So what does it have to do with me?" he asked, a small bit of bitterness bleeding into his tone.

"Everything, Harry, part of the process is a wizarding adoption. Once performed, it cannot be undone; at least not in Ms. Granger's case. For you, since James is dead, I can reclaim you as my child; that is not an option for Ms. Granger."

"You want to acknowledge me as your son?" Harry asked, a bit surprised and unsure.

Snape just looked at him a bit oddly before saying, "Yes."

Silence descended on the room as Harry considered what his father had just said. Part of him was overjoyed at the prospect of having his father; another part was still in shock, trying to accept the idea that his greasy git of a Potions Master was, in fact, his father. Snape claiming him would mean he would never have to return to the Dursley's, although he suspected that no matter the outcome, Bella would never allow that anyway. The fact that Snape was a spy for Dumbledore suddenly occurred to him and he turned to look at his father, "I wouldn't be able to be Harry Potter anymore, though, would I? Not unless you stop acting as a spy."

His father and Arabella exchanged another look before she said, "We haven't worked out all the details yet, Harry. We didn't want to invest too much time if it wasn't something with which you'd be comfortable."

Harry looked back and forth between his father and godmother before leaning back into his chair as he mulled over what they were suggesting. Hermione had already lost so much because of him; this plan might be the only real option they had of keeping her in Hogwarts and close by. If it meant sharing his family, if it could be called that, with her, he knew it was the least he could do.

"It would mean she'd get to stay in Hogwarts?"

"Yes," his father replied.

"Okay. If it will keep her safe, it's alright with me."

Bella reached out and took his hand again, squeezing it tightly. "Thank you, Harry. Everything will be alright, I promise."

Harry forced a smile and squeezed her hand back. He was about to respond when Ron suddenly appeared in the room with Dumbledore.

"Harry! We're going to Hogsmeade!"