The sun blazed high above him in a cloudless blue sky, burning the back of Harry's neck as he worked in Aunt Petunia's garden beds. He took a moment to wipe the beads of sweat slipping down his forehead with the back of his hand, then continued uprooting the last of the overgrown weeds, ignoring the scorching heat and his protesting muscles. Today was one of the hottest days of the summer, according to the brief snippets he'd caught from the early morning weather report Uncle Vernon had been watching during breakfast.

Harry sighed, wishing for nothing more than a cool glass of water and the shade of the tree to shield him from the merciless sun, though he figured he shouldn't be complaining, having spent the majority of his summer so far locked in his room all day.

It was only because the Dursleys were hosting a grand dinner party for Uncle Vernon's clients that Harry was allowed out of his room for the first time in weeks. Aunt Petunia's shrill shrieks and brisk knocks on his door had woken him up before the crack of dawn, and she'd shoved a rather lengthy list of chores into his hand, ordering him to "make himself somewhat useful" by completing them before the guests arrived the next evening. Harry thought the list would certainly take more than a day and a half to finish. Everything from cleaning the entire house to mowing the lawn to even preparing most of the extravagant dinner was listed.

Uncle Vernon had never failed to mention the importance of the event over the course of the past week. Harry had heard as much from his room, and again this morning when Uncle Vernon had set his beady eyes on him.

"This dinner party could promote me to the job that I so rightfully deserve." He'd proclaimed before turning to Harry and pointing a chubby finger at him, "And you better not mess this one up boy— I'm warning you. Any freaky business, any at all, and you will wish you had never been born."

Harry could care less about this dinner party, but he decided to keep his head down and do whatever he was told, knowing it was best not to provoke the ire of his uncle. He'd found out from an early age that Uncle Vernon always followed through with his threats.

So the house had already been thoroughly cleaned from top to bottom, the garden bench and fence had been repainted, and the lawn had been mowed twice. But it seemed that no matter how hard Harry tried, it was never up to the standard that Aunt Petunia wanted. A standard that no one could ever hope to achieve, especially not Harry. She had even made a fuss over a speck of dust Harry had apparently missed while cleaning this morning, which was rather ridiculous if you asked him, considering they were in parts of the house that the guests would never even see.

Though Harry didn't mind the chores really, at least they were a welcome distraction from the things that inhabited his mind lately. He'd much rather be outside doing chores all day, putting his energy into the work, than stuck in his room with nothing to do except stare at the peeling gray wallpaper, his thoughts free to wander.

It was better not to dwell on those thoughts, so he tried keeping them locked away, preferring not to acknowledge them, because he knew that if he did, everything would seem more… real.

Because he didn't want to think about the fact that he'd lost the only chance he had of finally getting a family. Harry had always wondered what it'd be like to have a family, to have someone who actually wanted him around. It'd been a dream of his when he was younger, innocent and unknowing, hoping that someone would come whisk him away from his miserable existence with the Dursleys. Of course, it never happened, until Sirius had offered him a home after everything was said and done. It didn't last, the chance slipping away when his godfather had fallen through the veil, disappearing and never seen again...

How could I have been so stupid?

It was all his fault.

Harry didn't know how he could forgive himself— or if he would ever forgive himself.

If only he had really focused and properly learned Occlumency, perhaps he would have realized it was a vision sent by Voldemort before it was too late. Then that whole incident wouldn't have happened... If only he'd opened Sirius' present and used the mirror... If only—

No. He'd drive himself mad lingering over what ifs.

Sometimes, Harry wished that it was just another awful nightmare he was going to wake up from, and everything would be all right again... That one day he would receive a letter from Snuffles asking how he was doing… but he wouldn't, ever again.

Of course, another person was killed because of his reckless actions.

And ever since his return to Privet Drive, Harry had been locked in his room most of the time. The Dursleys seemed to ignore him and pretended he didn't exist, unless they needed him for manual labor of some sort. Aunt Petunia had resumed using that cat flap on Harry's door to occasionally deliver some food whenever she remembered. It was just as well, Harry had hoped they would leave him be, even if it left him feeling more alone than ever.

He wished Hedwig was here, just so he had someone to talk to, but he'd sent her home with Ron for the summer. Hedwig would be much happier at the Burrow, where she would be allowed to fly and hunt freely instead of constantly locked in her cage here with him.

"Boy! Get in here!" a sharp voice called from behind him, drawing Harry out of his thoughts. He looked over his shoulder and saw Aunt Petunia hovering impatiently in the doorway.

Harry plucked the last weed from the garden, and then stood, quickly brushing the dirt off his worn trousers before making his way into the house, glad to finally be out from underneath the scorching sun.

"Start preparing dinner, and try not to burn anything," Aunt Petunia ordered as soon as Harry set foot into the house. "And don't touch anything until you've washed your hands first!" She hissed, eyeing him with disgust before turning back to the rather large cake she was in the middle of icing.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, making his way to the bathroom.

Once Harry had finished preparing all the food to Aunt Petunia's standards, she ordered him to clean the kitchen and then set the table.

Just as Harry was finishing setting the table, Uncle Vernon came waddling into the kitchen, dressed in a dinner jacket and bowtie. He briefly scrutinized Harry's work before shoving a set of clothes into his hands.

"Get changed boy, and look presentable. I will not have you looking like a no good hoodlum in front of my guests," said Uncle Vernon, looking Harry up and down.

Harry was going to point out that these clothes were just slightly better than Dudley's old castoffs that they always made him wear, but thought better of it. Instead he quietly replied with, "Yes, Uncle Vernon."

But before he could leave the room, Harry was stopped by a beefy hand latched onto his overly large shirt. "And one more thing boy, I don't want any funny business happening when my guests are here. Understood?" Uncle Vernon said harshly into his ear.

"Y-yes Uncle," Harry nodded, trying to pull away.

"You better," he hissed, roughly releasing him.

The guests began arriving as soon as Harry had finished changing. Uncle Vernon was at the door with Dudley, greeting each guest and welcoming them into their lovely home. Meanwhile, Aunt Petunia was fussing over every food item that had been prepared in the kitchen.

"Boy, take these to the table," Aunt Petunia ordered, pointing to the platters of food that were waiting on the counter.

It took Harry several trips to deliver all the food to the table, all the while ignoring the loud grumblings from his stomach at the delicious smells wafting throughout the house. There was more than enough food for the amount of guests invited, and Harry prayed Aunt Petunia would allow him to have the leftovers afterwards. The last time he'd eaten was yesterday morning when she had given him a thin slice of stale bread with a bit of cheese before ordering him outside.

Once the guests were all seated around the large table, Harry retreated back into the kitchen and was set to act as their waiter throughout the dinner, bringing anything they wanted when called for. Everything was going smoothly for a while, and Harry thought he was actually going to make it to the end without any mishaps. But of course, he should have known it was too good to be true.

When it was time to bring out the cake that Aunt Petunia had baked and decorated for dessert, Harry carefully lifted it and slowly headed towards the table. Focused on not dropping the precariously perched cake, he failed to notice Dudley's foot sticking out from underneath the table until it was too late. Before Harry knew what was happening, he and the cake were both falling forward. For a fleeting moment, Harry could have sworn he saw the cake slow and hover in the air as if someone had pushed a button that paused time, before it proceeded on its trajectory, covering many of the guests in clumps of cake and colorful icing. Startled yelps and screams filled the room.

Harry stood rooted to the spot, his heart dropping to his feet as he watched the scene play out.

I'm so dead—

"Nice going, Potter! You ruined some perfectly good cake!" Dudley shouted, aiming a glare at Harry. He scooped up a bit of cake that landed next to his plate with the tip of his finger and tasted it.

"I'm so sorry! It's my nephew, he's a bit disturbed." Uncle Vernon stood, hurriedly apologizing to the guests as Aunt Petunia dashed into the kitchen to retrieve a towel for each of them. "If you will excuse me for a moment, I promise you I am going to take care of this."

Uncle Vernon's large meaty hand then came to painfully grip his ear and Harry found himself being dragged forcefully out of the room and up the stairs, towards his bedroom. The grip was so tight Harry thought Uncle Vernon was surely going to pull his ear off.

When they reached his room, Harry was shoved in, and Uncle Vernon shut the door behind them with a resounding slam.

"Showing your freakiness in front of my guests! Oh, now you've really done it, boy!" Uncle Vernon shouted, jabbing a pudgy finger towards him. "You purposely ruined my dinner party!"

Harry shook his head, his hands raised. "No! I-I swear I didn't mean to, I just tripped over Dudley's foot and—"

Smack!

Harry's face snapped to one side as a meaty hand sharply made contact with his cheek. He gasped, staggering back and bringing a hand up to palm his stinging cheek.

"There's no explaining your way of this, I saw the freakiness you performed with my own two eyes." Uncle Vernon tugged him closer by the front of Harry's shirt, his large face terribly close to Harry's as it turned an unpleasant shade of red, a vein pulsing vividly in his forehead.

"What did I tell you about keeping it under control? You will pay for this boy." The hold on his shirt was released, then his uncle's large fingers began clumsily unbuckling his belt from around his wide waist.

"No please, I-I'm sorry, Un-uncle Vernon. I really didn't mean to— it was an a-accident!" Harry backed away as far as he could, and tried apologizing even though he knew it wasn't going to help deter Uncle Vernon's anger. It never did.

"You ungrateful little freak!" Uncle Vernon roared, sharply swinging the belt. It hit Harry on the shoulder, and he put his arms up in an attempt to shield his face, turning so that his back would take the brunt of the blows. "We provide you with a roof over your head, food, the clothes off our Dudley's back and this is how you repay us? By ruining my dinner party— my one opportunity for a promotion!"

Each strike seemed harder than the last, and Harry tried not to make any noise, except a sharp breath every time the belt buckle tore into his back. He had found out from a young age that crying never helped lessen the beatings, especially when there wasn't anyone around to stop them. When he had received his first beating at seven years old, he'd pathetically cried for Aunt Petunia's help, stupidly believing that she would do something. Harry had just ended up receiving harder hits and a week locked in his cupboard, too hurt to move.

"Nothing, but a nuisance. A burden to my family!" Uncle Vernon went on, "Should have died along with your no good freaky parents. Would have done us all a favor!"

It felt like hours had gone by, that was surely only a couple of minutes, as the lashes kept coming, and Harry wondered when Uncle Vernon would tire. He couldn't stop a pained gasp from escaping as he crumpled to the floor when Uncle Vernon aimed a few good hits to the back of his legs. Tears pooled in his eyes, ready to stream down his face, but he resolutely kept them from falling.

When it seemed Uncle Vernon had tired of using the belt, he dropped it with a clunk and moved on to kicking and punching instead. Harry's attempts at rolling and squirming out of the way were useless. One especially well placed kick in the ribs knocked the wind out of him and caused him to cough violently. He nearly passed out from the pain of it.

Just when it was becoming too much to bear, Uncle Vernon abruptly stopped and stood there for a moment, silently glaring down at Harry, panting heavily from the exertion.

"Nothing but trouble. This is precisely what you deserve!" Uncle Vernon said breathlessly as he clumsily put his belt back on. "And don't be expecting any meals for the next week."

He placed a few well placed kicks to Harry's ribs before leaving the room, slamming the door behind him. Harry could hear the sounds of the many locks on his door clicking into place a moment later.

After hearing the last of Uncle Vernon's heavy footfalls receding, Harry attempted to get up off the hard floor and onto his bed, but quickly decided against it. He curled into himself instead, hissing at the sharp pain in his chest from the brief movement. He probably had a broken rib or two and he knew his back didn't look too good either. His whole body, especially his back, felt like it was on fire and the slightest movement he tried to make would send a burst of pain coursing through his body. His bottom lip was bloody and puffy from his efforts of preventing his screams from escaping.

He took in shaky, shallow breaths, the tears he'd been holding back were now silently streaming down his face. Uncle Vernon's words reverberated through his mind.

And somewhere in a corner of his mind, he agreed with all that was said.

He was unwanted, unloved, ungrateful, a freak, a burden.

Maybe he's right... I deserve to get punished, I get people killed. Look what happened to Sirius... and Cedric, and Mum and Dad.

More than ever, Harry wished he was with them.

He wished that there was someone… anyone who wanted and cared about him for him...

Not because he was the Boy-Who-Lived, or the savior of the wizarding world, but about Harry.

Just Harry.

That was all he had ever wanted. Everything that his friends seemed to take for granted…

Was that too much to ask for?

Harry sighed, resting his cheek against the cold floorboard, trying unsuccessfully to push those thoughts out of his mind.

Maybe I should just off myself now, I could be with Sirius, Mum, Dad, and all my other relatives I've never met.

It would certainly put him out of his misery. There wouldn't be any more pain…

But then who would defeat Voldemort? Could he leave his friends here with a madman still on the loose if he had the power to put an end to it?

He wasn't sure about that.

Voldemort had been the one who murdered his parents. He was the one who made his life this way. If anything, he was going to finish this war for his parents because they sacrificed so much for him…

They sacrificed their lives for him.

Harry wanted to honor their sacrifices, and hopefully make them proud.

But he didn't know how much more he could handle before he shattered into a million pieces that couldn't be put back together. He was sick of being the Boy Who Lived. Nobody seemed to really understand what he had been through or what he was going through.

His friends did mean a lot to him and he was forever grateful to have had them by his side during all those difficult times. But they have each other and their families, so Harry wouldn't be missed too much, right?

The many thoughts continued to swirl around his mind, until his eyelids began to feel heavy and he let them fall shut, the exhaustion from the day starting to settle in.

And it wasn't long before sleep claimed him.

It was dark. Only slivers of the dim moonlight lit his way, penetrating through the dense leaves of the towering trees around him as he ran past, but he hadn't an inkling of where he was going or why he was even running in the first place. His feet seemed to be moving of their own accord, the dry leaves and grass crackled underneath his feet with every step.

The forest seemed endless, the shadows around him closing in.

Until finally, in the distance, a single marble headstone suddenly came into view, directly in the middle of his path. He stopped when he reached it, noting how familiar it seemed. Just as he noticed the name chiseled on the front, a figure appeared beside him. 

Cedric.

Wearing his Triwizard garb, his wand held tensely in front of him.

And around them, the trees had vanished, replaced by an eerily familiar graveyard.

He knew what would happen next.

When he reached for his own wand, he found it was missing.

He needed to run. 

They had to leave.

But his feet were rooted to the spot.

Cedric turned, saying something to him that he couldn't make out over the drumming of his heartbeat building in his ears. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, as if wanting to burst from its confines.

He needed to grab Cedric and get back to the portkey before—

"Kill the spare!"

"No, Cedric!" he wanted to shout, but the words were stuck to the back of his throat.

"Avada Kedavara!"

As if in slow motion, he watched the horrible green light erupt from the tip of Voldemort's wand and rush toward Cedric, hitting directly into his chest.

There was the sound of a body thudding to the ground.

"Why did you get me killed Harry?" said a cold voice, startling him. Cedric was beside him once again, but this time, his appearance was ghostlike, glimmering and translucent, looking exactly like he did when he came out of Voldemort's wand during the Prior Incantatem. "It's all your fault." Cedric's face contorted then, to an almost inhuman look.

"I-I'm sorry," Harry rasped, but knew that it wasn't going to be enough. It never was.

Suddenly, his surroundings shifted and he was in the Department of Mysteries. Death Eaters and Order members were dueling around him, their multicolored spells flying all over the vast room, but Harry wasn't aware of any of that as his main focus was on one person dueling in front of the veil. 

Just as Bellatrix cast the curse that sent Sirius stumbling into the veil, everything in the room appeared to have slowed down as if a time spell had been cast. Sirius suddenly looked straight at him, the expression on his face cut through Harry's heart.

"See what you've done, Harry? I'm dead because of you!" Sirius shouted at him, his face twisting into a look of disgust. "You aren't worthy of being my godson."

"No! P-please Sirius, I'm sorry," Harry said as he tried to make his way toward Sirius, hoping to grab his godfather before he fell through the veil. But with every step he took, he seemed to be getting further and further away. 

Sirius abruptly turned away then, and fell through the veil, disappearing forever without even a backward glance at his grief stricken godson.

Harry gave a strangled gasp as he jerked awake, immediately regretting the sudden movement as it caused a burst of pain to radiate from his battered body. He winced, curling up on his side as he shivered violently in his sweat drenched shirt, breathing heavily as if he'd just finished running a marathon. The nightmare wasn't uncommon; Harry had been having them quite often ever since that incident in his fourth year, but recently, Sirius had started to become a part of them as well.

After several minutes of him attempting to slow his frantic breathing, Harry pushed himself gingerly up to a sitting position, having realized he was still laying on the hardwood floor of his bedroom. Then he tried to make it onto his bed, only to fall back to the floor with a groan as his damaged body protested to the exertion.

Gritting his teeth and drawing in some long deep breaths, Harry managed to carefully lift himself onto his worn down cot the Dursleys provided for him. He pulled the threadbare sheets over him, set his glasses on the small nightstand, and laid there, staring at the blurry wall opposite him. He felt exhausted, but it usually took awhile for him to fall back asleep after one of his nightmares, and just as he was about to drift off to unconsciousness, he heard a quiet swoosh that once again snapped his brain back to full awareness. Harry jerked his head up, the movement jarring his already sore neck, and he gave a slight groan as he gingerly rubbed it.

He reached for his glasses and shoved them back on his face before looking around to see what had happened. By the slivers of moonlight shining in from his window, Harry spotted a letter on the floor next to his bed.

Cautiously rising from his bed, Harry wondered where the letter had come from as it surely hadn't been there a few moments ago. It certainly hadn't come from an owl— his window was locked and Uncle Vernon had reinstalled the bars outside.

Harry slowly crept towards it, reaching out a hand before he quickly pulled it back.

It could be a trap… Or maybe a Portkey—

Then a floral scent that seemed somehow familiar suddenly surrounded him, and Harry could make out his name written on the front in an elegant handwriting he didn't recognize. He carefully picked up the envelope, his heart jumping into his throat as he realized with a start who this could possibly be from.

But it can't be from her... 

Harry slowly broke the seal and opened the letter, unfolding the parchment with slightly trembling hands and began reading.

My dearest son, 

It is my greatest hope that you will never receive this letter, and I am there to tell you in person. However, if you are reading this now, it means that James and I are dead. The protections put in place to keep us safe have failed, but at least you would eventually know the truth.

James is not your father. I had applied a charm that made you look like a mixture between James and myself. It is set to slowly wear off after your sixteenth birthday, finally revealing your true appearance. Hopefully by then, the war would have ended and your real father would still be alive.

His position in this war has become too dangerous for us to remain a family. Dumbledore had suggested that you and I would be safer with James for the time being due to the severity of the war. It was an incredibly difficult decision for your father and I to make. He and James have never been on very good terms, however, I would like to believe that there was a sort of truce between them while living with this arrangement. 

Your father is a spy for the light, he is exceedingly brave and continues to put himself at risk for the sake of the wizarding world. Always having to conceal his true feelings from Voldemort is never an easy task. If he ever discovers that your father is a spy, he would be killed immediately.

Your biological father is Severus Snape. Even though he may seem like he has a cold exterior, he does have a heart that only few are fortunate enough to see. Your first words were "Dada" and every time he came home after a long day you would toddle over to him and climb onto his lap to cheer him up. Just as well, Severus possessed the incredibly rare talent of being able to calm you with just a few soft words in your ear when you were upset. You were his entire world, Harry, ever since the day you were born. 

Severus had to have his memories removed to ensure that he does not get caught with them, after having a close encounter with Voldemort. Another letter will be sent to Severus at the same time as you receive yours. I have included a vial of Severus' memories in his letter so he could remember all the good times we had as a family. Please find Severus, and help him remember. He will need you as much as you need your father.

Never forget Harry, you are so loved.

Your mother,

Lily Snape

For the longest time, Harry just stared at the letter in disbelief, his fingers having gone numb. A swell of contradicting emotions swept over him as he reread it over and over…

Is it true? Is Snape really my father?

His mum... and Snape?

Scenes of the memory he witnessed in Snape's office flashed through his mind.

She'd defended him… but he'd called her a...

No, it can't be…

How did this happen?

The strict potions professor who had tormented and belittled him for the past five years at Hogwarts was his father?

A wave of anger and bitterness surged through him at the injustice of it all.

Why did the man who had loathed him ever since he set eyes on him, have to be his father?

It's not fair.

Just then, Harry caught a glimpse of the clock on his desk from the corner of his eye and realized that it was just five minutes after midnight.

He was officially sixteen now.

"Happy Birthday to me," Harry whispered, sighing as he lowered his eyes back to the letter.

He knew that he won't receive any gifts this time because he told his friends to hold his presents until he got back to Hogwarts. Usually he would have Hedwig to celebrate his birthday with him, but this year it was just him.

The Dursleys certainly never cared about his birthday, they actually went out of their way to make him even more miserable when he was younger. He remembered one year when Aunt Petunia had organized a party on his birthday and didn't allow Harry to join. It turned out to be a day for Dudley to invite his friends over while Harry was forced to listen through the slits in his cupboard. He remembered asking Aunt Petunia why he wasn't allowed to join in, and received the simple answer: "Because freaks don't deserve it."

Ever since then, Harry wanted to prove her wrong and had tried hard not to be so freaky, but despite his efforts, his relatives would always treat him the same way. They always glared at him as if he was an annoying piece of gum stuck to the bottom of their shoe. He had become resigned to the irrefutable fact that no matter what he did, he couldn't change the way the Dursleys saw him.

After a long moment of getting lost in his thoughts, he noticed that there was more in the envelope than just the letter from his mother. Four photos slipped out onto the floor when Harry tipped the envelope upside down. All of them seemed to be wizard photos as the occupants were moving in a time loop.

The first one was apparently taken the day he was born. His mother could be seen in a hospital bed looking tired but the joy was apparent on her face as she was watching, to Harry's surprise, Snape holding a baby Harry in his arms. There was pride and amazement shown noticeably in Snape's usually cold eyes as he looked down at the tiny infant cradled in his arms. Then a small smile appeared on the man's usually stoic face as his thumb tenderly caressed the baby's soft cheek. Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing.

He would have never thought that Snape could be so... gentle, considering the man in the picture was the same man who had always went out of his way to make him miserable at school.

Moving on to the second photo, Harry almost gasped when he saw his younger self on Snape's lap, the man gently bouncing the little toddler. Little Harry was grinning and giggling like mad the entire time. Then Snape did something that completely shocked Harry. He wrapped his arms around the happy toddler, pulling him close to lean against his chest, and gently kissed the child on the temple. A look of pride and affection was shown clearly on his features.

Had there really been a time when Snape actually...

Harry shook his head and sighed.

Obviously, whatever feelings of affection Snape might have had for him was long gone now.

The next photo was also one of himself and Snape. He blinked, staring at it for a long time, hardly able to believe what he was seeing. Snape was dozing in a rocking chair, his arms wrapped tightly around the toddler who was sleeping contently against the man's chest. Harry couldn't help the little smile that involuntarily crept onto his face as he sat staring at the picture. He would have never imagined Snape— the Greasy Git of the Dungeons— to have once rocked him to sleep, but here was the proof.

The last photo was of all three of them sitting at a kitchen table. Snape was trying to feed Harry in his high chair, the spoon's motions imitating a train that was headed towards the little boy's mouth. Lily sat on the other side of Harry, green eyes shining with amusement as she laughed at the scene. A scowl appeared on Snape's face, though it didn't reach his eyes, as little Harry squirmed out of the way, just as the spoon was about to reach the little toddler's mouth. He could see the barely concealed amusement in those usually cold black eyes.

Harry stared at this photo for the longest time, trying to remember every little detail of the perfectly captured moment. The way his mother's face lit up as she laughed, Snape's reaction to the little toddler's antics, and the giggling younger version of himself...

Everyone looked so happy.

This was how a family should be, how growing up with loving parents would have been like. These moments spent with family that are treasured forever because they're priceless. Harry would give anything to have remembered those moments, to have remembered what it felt like to be held and cherished by people that wanted him and... loved him.

Then an unbidden question came into his mind: Was there still a part of Snape that could still love him like he did back then?

Maybe he could finally have someone in his life that would care for him and who would want him.

So he wouldn't feel so alone.

But then again, did he even want that from Snape of all people? The cold, stern professor was a far cry from the warm and loving father he had just watched in the photos. It seemed highly unlikely for them to even be the same person.

Snape hates me, Harry thought bitterly, what makes you think he will want to be your father?

But he is your father, a small voice in his head reminded him. And he did look happy in those photos. 

Maybe when he gets his memories back... 

No— Harry halted that thought before it could finish forming. He didn't want to hold onto too much hope that Snape would want to be his father.

If he was rejected, the pain from that would be even worse than never hoping at all. The thought of knowing that even his own father didn't want him would reinforce what the Dursley's always told him. He was an unwanted freak and unworthy of being loved.

He should used to it all by now anyway...

But still, a part of him was stubbornly refusing to let go, clinging tightly onto that tiny sliver of hope.

Severus Snape was settled in his study, the sounds of a quill scratching on parchment filling the room as he revised his class curriculums for the upcoming school term. Normally by this time in the summer, he would have already finished his school duties, however, this summer differed vastly in comparison to his previous summers.

He was just finishing the second years syllabus when a knock on his door interrupted his work. After a clearly spoken enter, the door cracked open just enough for a boy with dark brown hair and black eyes to peer into the room.

"Didn't I tell you not to disturb me this morning?" Severus asked, glancing up at the fourteen year old.

"Yeah, but I'm bored and there's nothing to do here," the boy replied as the rest of his body entered the room. He shut the door behind him, then sauntered over and plopped himself down into the chair positioned in front of Severus' large oak desk.

Severus raised an eyebrow at him, "And that warrants disrupting my work?"

The boy didn't answer, only giving a small shrug as Severus set his quill down and folded his arms across the desk.

"Well, I certainly would not have any trouble giving you additional assignments, if you have difficulty finding something productive to occupy your time, Kieran."

Kieran made a face and quickly shook his head. He leaned forward in his seat, his elbows resting on his knees. "I came to ask if you wanted to go flying with me."

"As I have said before, I have a lot of work in preparation for the new term—"

There was a dramatic groan that interrupted him, before the boy said, "But Dad, you've been holed up in here all day already!"

Severus gave him a disapproving glare at the interruption, though it didn't have the customary effect on Kieran as it usually did on his students.

"Let's go get some fresh air... and sunlight," said Kieran, glancing out the window with warm streams of sunlight filtering in. He turned back to Severus and smirked, "Which is what you sort of need right now, anyway."

"Cheeky brat," Severus muttered. He glanced at the clock, noting that he had spent a good amount of hours seated at his desk. Perhaps it was time for him to take a break, if only to stretch his stiff limbs.

"Very well, go retrieve your broom. I'll meet you out there momentarily," he conceded, waving his son off.

Kieran grinned, nearly knocking the chair over in his excitement as he stood and hastily left the room without another word. Severus shook his head at his son's antics, as he stood, stretching his legs. Usually Severus wouldn't tolerate such behavior, however, it seemed when it came to his son, Severus had inadvertently developed a soft spot for him, ever since the boy had come to stay with him for the summer.

Severus had been reluctant to believe it when the boy's mother sought him out and told him the previous year, but Clarice had explained what had happened, at least providing some proof. When Severus had met Kieran, he couldn't deny some resemblance between the boy and himself. Kieran looks similar to how Severus had at his age, the differences being that fortunately, his son didn't inherit his hooked nose, and his hair was dark brown which he inherited from his mother.

At first, he didn't want to have anything to do with the boy, having been accustomed to living alone for very long time now, until Clarice had managed to convince him to get to know his son and be a part of the boy's life. Therefore, Kieran was now staying with him for the summer at Prince Manor, a home that Severus had inherited from his mother's side. He had rarely stayed there before, mostly preferring to stay in his quarters at Hogwarts over the fairly large sized property by himself.

It was strange sharing a home with someone at first, but soon Severus found he didn't particularly mind spending time with the boy and getting to know him. Severus could admit, if only to himself, that he rather enjoyed the company and having someone to take care of and to call yours. His son was certainly more tolerable than the idiotic students he had to teach every year.

Severus was still fairly new to the whole concept of fatherhood, and considering his own dreadful childhood, it was no wonder why he was inexperienced with the ways of parenting. He didn't exactly have any competent role models. The thought had terrified him at first, suddenly realizing he had a son, when he never planned on having a family. And the only person he ever considered having that with was long dead.

Lily was the only person who saw a different side of him and the only person he had ever opened up to. That side was now concealed and padlocked away after she went and married James Potter and had the Potter spawn. Ever since then, Severus had put up a firmly constructed wall, not allowing anyone in. Deep down he knew that the only person he could ever love was Lily.

"C'mon, Dad!" a shout from Kieran snapped Severus out of his thoughts. He looked up to see the boy waiting eagerly by the door, his newly polished broom clutched in his hand.

Not wanting to keep his son waiting, Severus retrieved his own broom and followed him outside. They flew around together in the extensive back garden until sunset.

As Severus was finishing his work that evening, he thought about all that had changed in his life since he had found out about his son.

It had been a one night stand with Clarice, in his attempt to drink away his grief after that fateful Halloween night. His recollections of that night were foggy at best. He had been so drunk that it happened without him knowing. It was only the morning after when he woke up in bed with Clarice next to him that he realized what had happened. Clarice had apparently been trying to offer comfort and Kieran came into existence because of it. Even though Severus didn't have feelings for Clarice, far from it in fact, he was just trying to be a good father to their son.

Severus had been worried that he couldn't provide everything that Kieran wanted. The boy had been spoiled with extravagant gifts of the best quality by his mother ever since birth. Severus had never seen himself as wealthy by any means, even if he was a highly esteemed Potions Master and had plenty of money in his vaults to last him his lifetime. Severus just bought what he needed and nothing more, preferring not to waste money on frivolous items that had no use.

His thoughts were abruptly cut off when he felt a shift in the magic of the room. Severus stilled and instantly drew his wand, prepared for anything that could have caused the change in the air.

Suddenly, a thick letter materialized out of thin air and landed gently on the floor in front of him. He cautiously moved towards it, casting all sorts of revealing spells on it to make sure it didn't contain any curses. After finding nothing out of the ordinary, Severus picked up the letter and turned it over. What he saw made his breath catch in his throat. He had to take a seat on the settee, his legs buckling beneath him.

On the front of the letter was his name, written in familiar handwriting he thought he'd never see again.

Impossible... It can't be…

His long fingers carefully broke the seal of the envelope and slowly slid the letter out with as much care as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

A floral scent filled the air around him, and he had to suppress the memories it brought up.

Dear Severus,

First and foremost, Harry is yours, not James.

You always said you wanted to fulfill your role to ensure a safer world for our son to live in, but I wish we didn't have to resort to these measures. I hope when this letter reaches you, the war is over and you are no longer a spy for the Order. I have been wanting to tell you this for so long now and return your true memories. You had decided it would be best to have your memories removed to keep us safe when Voldemort grew suspicious of your role in the war. Dumbledore had suggested that Harry and I would stay safe here with James, and let everyone believe we were together. 

Harry has a glamour on that makes him resemble James. It's an illusion I wish every day that I could remove and have him appear as he was meant to. Harry reminds me so much of you, and yet, he's the perfect mixture of the both of us. I believe he has inherited your stubbornness and both our tempers, which can be quite a troublesome pairing sometimes. 

I don't think I will ever forget the look of pride on your face when you held our son in your arms for the first time. You can sneer and scowl at me all you want, Severus, but Harry had you simply wrapped around his little finger. I miss the days when you would come home and fall asleep in the rocking chair with Harry snuggled up against you. 

There are some days when I still expect to see you come through the door… On those rare occasions when we have visitors, Harry still toddles over as fast as he can, as if hoping to be the first one to greet you and be scooped up into your arms, just as he always did whenever you came home from a long day. 

Ever since you left, Harry has missed you so much. Recently, he threw a tantrum, causing his first incidence of accidental magic that almost broke every glass in the house. Quite an impressive feat for a one year old. He was calling for you. Harry has been doing that a lot lately, and my heart breaks every time, knowing I can't do anything about it. The stuffed doe you gave him is always tucked underneath his chin every night; he can't seem to fall asleep without it. At least Harry still has that to provide a small bit of comfort through these difficult times.

I keep telling myself this situation is temporary, that everything will turn out fine in the end, but I'm starting to sound like a broken record player. I miss you Sev. Every day when we receive the latest edition of the Daily Prophet, I wonder where you are and whether you're safe. This blasted war has torn my family apart and I don't know how much longer I can take. I can only hope that one day we will be reunited as a family again. 

But if that time never comes, I wrote letters to you, Harry, and Dumbledore, returning your memories and explaining everything on Harry's sixteenth birthday. Your true memories will replace the false ones, once you see them. Please look at them and remember, Sev. Remember all the good times we spent together as a family, and even though it was such a short amount of time, they were still the best times of my life. 

Please find our son. I believe Harry needs his father, just as much as you need your son. 

You were a great father then, and you still are. 

Please take care of our son. 

I love you, Sev. 

Always.

Your wife,

Lily Snape

Severus sat quite still for some time, staring down at the letter and rereading it over and over. His mind seemed to be temporarily unable to comprehend the words written in front of him…

Lily and I were married... We had a son together...

Harry is yours...

The boy who lived to torment every waking hour of Severus' day with his arrogance and foolish recklessness for the last five years was not a Potter?

It was as if his entire world had been flipped on its axis...

How the bloody hell did this happen?

Severus knew for a fact that Lily had ended their friendship after he'd called her that foul word in a time of humiliation. His attempts at apologizing were for naught, as she never forgave him, and ever since then, he had been regretting that day. He wouldn't hesitate to go back and change it, if he could. From that day forth, his emotions were buried deeply behind layers of his Occlumency shields, but every time he had seen Lily with Potter, all that anger, bitterness, and self loathing would rise to simmer just below the surface.

And when Severus first set eyes on their eleven year old son in the Great Hall, messy black hair with round glasses and the spitting image of James Potter, all the bitterness and hatred re-emerged and was spilled fully on the boy.

Those blasted green eyes, Lily's eyes, always reminded Severus of what he could have had.

Well, somehow, he was yours all along, Severus…

That jolted him out of his shock, and he shook himself, quickly shoving that thought from his mind.

Severus carefully tipped the envelope, catching the vial of swirling silver white memories that fell out.

Your true memories will replace the false ones...

His eyes narrowed at the glimmering vial, wondering what they contained, and which of his memories were true and which were fabricated.

Should he look at them? Did he want to? Did he even want to be Potter's father?

Severus scowled. No. I just found out I already have a son, there was no need for another, especially not Potter.

But he wasn't really a Potter, was he?

No doubt the boy wouldn't accept him as his father anyway. His relatives must pamper and spoil him— why would he want to leave them? Besides, he was still that arrogant, rule breaking, attention-seeking, impertinent teenager from school, even if he wasn't a Potter. His behavior was in every way similar to James Potter's.

But he's yours and Lily's. A tiny voice in his head spoke. He's the last thing left of Lily's.

Severus firmly shut that voice up, pushing those thoughts to the very back corner of his mind and locked the door.

Of course, somehow, Potter always seemed to find a way to disrupt his life.

He stalked back over to his desk, and with a sharp flick of his wand, his top desk drawer flew open.

No, he wasn't going to let the brat ruin this perfectly good summer with Kieran.

Apparently coming to a decision, Severus gently set the vial of memories and the letter in the drawer, telling himself that he would look at them at a later time. Then he warded it shut, ensuring it couldn't be opened by anyone other than himself.

After finishing everything, Severus swept out of his study and went straight for his bedroom, only pausing briefly to peer into Kieran's room as he passed. His son was deeply asleep on his stomach, snoring into his pillow, one arm dangling off the side of the bed. With a very fleeting upward twitch of his lips, Severus continued on his way to his own room where he fell into a restful sleep, not even sparing a second thought to the fact that he'd just found out he had another son.

It was days like these that Severus enjoyed the most. There was nothing disturbing the silence except his mechanical crushing and grinding of his pestle and the softly simmering cauldrons beside him. Just as he was about to add the powdered Bicorn horn to the batches of Pepper-up potion he was brewing for the Hogwarts infirmary, the alarm that signaled a Floo call sounded. There were only a handful of people that would ever Floo call him, considering Severus mainly preferred to keep to himself and rarely invited friends over.

Must be Dumbledore, he thought with a scowl as he cast a stasis charm over the cauldrons to prevent the potions from spoiling, the old man better have a good reason to disrupt my afternoon.

He quickly stalked to his study.

"Good afternoon, Severus," Dumbledore said jovially from the fireplace once Severus stepped foot into his study. "There is a rather important matter I would like to discuss with you. Please come to my office."

Without waiting for a reply, his head disappeared from the fire.

Severus gave an irritated sigh.

After informing a house elf that he was leaving and to keep an eye on Kieran while he was away, Severus stepped gracefully out of the fireplace and into the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts.

Fawkes greeted him as he usually did, trilling gleefully at his entrance. Severus regarded him with a sideways glare, then turned his attention to the other colorful occupant in the room.

"What is it we need to discuss, Headmaster?" Severus asked without preamble.

"Have a seat, my boy," Dumbledore said. He gestured toward a shiny metal tin at the edge of his desk, "Lemon drop?"

"No, thank you," Severus replied with a touch of impatience, seating himself in that wooden chair in front of Dumbledore's desk.

Dumbledore happily popped a small yellow sweet into his mouth, taking his time to savor the treat as he fished out a piece of parchment from one of his desk drawers. He held it up, and Severus immediately recognized the handwriting.

"I have just received a letter from Lily, as I am certain you have as well," said Dumbledore. "She made me aware of Harry's true parentage."

Severus stiffened, he'd forgotten that Lily mentioned Dumbledore would have received a letter as well. He gave a curt nod, and Dumbledore continued, "Now that we know Harry has another blood relative, I am considering transferring the blood wards from—"

"Absolutely not!" Severus interrupted, knowing exactly where this conversation was heading. "I am not allowing the brat to reside in my home," he said firmly, and hesitated ever so slightly before continuing. "I have just recently discovered that I have a son, who is currently staying with me, and I will not have Potter disrupting both our lives."

Of course, Dumbledore wanted the brat to move in with him. He had just grown accustomed to having Kieran live with him and getting to know the boy. Adding Potter into it would no doubt cause problems. Problems that Severus never wanted to deal with.

"I see," Dumbledore said as he laced his fingers together. "Why did you not inform me?"

"Because I am not obligated to inform you about everything that goes on in my personal life!" Severus snapped, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

Dumbledore nodded, not at all fazed by Severus' outburst. "Well, I am sure Harry will be pleased to know he has a brother," he merely said, smiling.

Severus snorted derisively, "The boy's most likely being happily spoiled rotten by his relatives anyway. Why not just leave him there?"

Dumbledore looked at him over his half moon spectacles and clicked his tongue, "Severus, you are Harry's father. He deserves to have love and support at difficult times like these."

"All of which he already receives from his adoring relatives and friends, not to mention his plethora of fans," Severus sneered.

Dumbledore sighed, "I implore you to re-evaluate your judgement of the boy."

"There is nothing to reevaluate, Albus. The boy is impertinent, attention-seeking, and arrogant just like James Potter. He is also reckless and impulsive, considering what had occurred at the ministry, endangering his friends, and constantly playing the hero," Severus stated matter of factly.

Dumbledore didn't respond right away, leaning back into his chair. "I feel it is often best to consider what lies beneath to truly understand a person," he finally said, his gaze seeming to pierce through Severus.

"What are you implying, Dumbledore?" Severus scowled, pointing a smoldering glare in return at the old wizard, "Have you forgotten I have had to watch over the boy these last five years?"

"Not at all, Severus. I merely hoped you would have come to terms with your childhood grudges," Dumbledore said calmly.

The only hint that Severus was angry was that his lips had thinned into a line, other than that his face became carefully emotionless at Dumbledore' words. Of course he hadn't gotten over his grudges against James Potter. He took everything away from Severus, mainly Lily. Not to mention the constant humiliation and torment he and his cohorts put Severus through during all their years at Hogwarts. Currently, every time Severus saw their son who looks exactly like James Potter, but with Lily's beautiful eyes, it pulled forth unpleasant memories that he wanted to keep locked away and buried in the back of his mind forever.

After a few minutes of silence, Dumbledore spoke again, "Harry is going to have to stay with you, Severus. The guardianship will be transferred over, and since you are his father, the blood wards will be stronger with you. After all, you might even find yourself surprised—"

"No. He is still the same rule breaking troublemaker he has always been, even if he is my... son." Severus had to force that word past his lips. Saying it in reference with Potter left a bad taste in his mouth. "That changes nothing."

"Severus—"

"No, Albus! I don't want to have anything to do with the brat!"

"It is my final word," Dumbledore said firmly.

Severus glared at Dumbledore for a long moment, before he finally gave a sigh in defeat, knowing there was no point in arguing any further. Try as he might, he could never win their arguments.

"Very well," Severus said reluctantly through clenched teeth.

"I will be transferring the blood wards to you and will retrieve Harry from his relatives tomorrow. Make sure to have all the accommodations ready." Dumbledore pulled out a blank piece of parchment and a quill from his desk. He started to write a letter as he continued, "I will need to have a discussion with Harry, he might be distraught..."

After Dumbledore finished explaining his plans, Severus rose to his feet and grabbed a pinch of Floo powder, eager to return home. Just as he was about to shout out his destination, Dumbledore stopped him by saying, "Get to know the boy, Severus, you may chance upon some surprising revelations."

The old man's blue eyes were twinkling, like the stars on his irritatingly colorful robes he was sporting.

Severus turned his back to him, rolling his eyes. As if.

"Prince Manor," he muttered, throwing the Floo powder into the fireplace and watching the green flames swell forth.

"Don't forget, he is your son, you and Lily's."

Damn the old coot.

Severus just scowled and gave a menacing glare back at Dumbledore before he vanished in the green flames of the Floo.

Later that evening, Severus went to one of the spare bedrooms in the manor. Choosing the small room in a far away corner of the manor, he called for a house elf and told it to freshen up the room. There was a thick layer of dust settled on all the furniture, obviously from being unoccupied for so long.

If he was going to have to put up with the brat for the rest of the summer, he wanted to put as much distance between his and Kieran's rooms. Even if he wasn't a Potter, he was still a trouble magnet.

He purposefully told the house elf to leave the walls bare and the furniture in this room wasn't near as elegant as their rooms.

No need to spoil the already pampered prince, thought Severus, I want to be clear that he's not going to get that from me.

After giving his orders, he strode back towards his study to get a little more work done before turning in for the night. On the way there, he pondered how he should tell Kieran about Potter coming to stay with them. The boy's presence would no doubt cause some disturbances.

Severus put off telling Kieran about their new guest until after breakfast the next day. He found that he completely underestimated Kieran's reaction to it. He knew there was going to be some protests, but he didn't anticipate the full blown temper tantrum.

"You can't be serious, Dad!" Kieran screwed his face up, "Harry Potter's your son? So he's sort of like my… brother?"

"Mind your tone, Kieran." Severus said, a warning in his voice. He was surprised at the disgust already present in Kieran's tone.

His son huffed, "Why's he coming to stay with us? Doesn't he live with his relatives or something?"

Severus gave an agitated sigh and ran a thin hand through his hair. "Professor Dumbledore has decided to transfer his guardianship over to me, because of our… relations, the blood wards are expected to be stronger."

Kieran drew his brows together, "What blood wards?"

Severus waved the topic away as unimportant, and simply responded with, "They are for his protection."

His son crossed his arms, "And your just letting Dumbledore tell you what to do? Just like that?"

"I am not liking this situation any better than you are."

Kieran let out an irritated sigh, glaring down at the tabletop. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if debating whether to vocalize his thoughts, then he said, "How you could have a kid with a... a Mudblood!"

A wave of fury swept through Severus.

How dare he call Lily that?

"Do not ever use that word in front of me again," Severus said, his voice dangerously low as he enunciated every word. He clenched his hands tightly into fists against his sides, struggling to rein in his anger before he did something he might regret later.

"No! I don't want Potter here! He's going to ruin everything!" Kieran shouted, something indistinguishable flickering through his dark eyes that Severus couldn't place. He was a bit surprised at the hatred already present in Kieran's tone.

"I suggest you lower your voice," Severus said, in his most menacing voice, splaying his hands on top of the table. It could have scared away even his seventh year students. This time, his glare made Kieran flinch back slightly, though the defiant look never left the boy's face.

"Now, go to your room and stay there! I need to calm down before we discuss this subject any further," Severus ordered in a tone that brook no arguments.

Kieran opened his mouth as if he was about to protest, but the intense expression on Severus' face stopped him. Instead, he snapped his mouth shut and defiantly lifted his chin as he turned to strut out of the room.

A few moments later, the slamming of a door reverberated throughout the halls of the manor.

Why are teenagers so melodramatic?

Severus dropped his face into his hands and gave a long sigh. How was he ever going to handle taking care of two teenage boys?

From the reaction he received from Kieran, Severus knew that it was going to be hard keeping both boys from cursing each other. Given Potter's recklessness and arrogance and combining that with Kieran's hot attitude and pompousness, Severus was going to have his hands full for the next few weeks.

He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache building behind his eyes.

How was he ever going to survive the rest of the summer?

Kieran swiftly kicked the side of his dresser, his big toe painfully taking the brunt of the force, but he didn't care at the moment.

He couldn't believe it. How was he possibly related to Harry bloody Potter of all people?

Mother always said Potter was nothing special, just some boy who somehow survived the killing curse and became famous for it. He had the whole world at his fingertips, being bloody praised for his incredible feat. Potter most likely had his relatives waiting on him hand and foot at this very moment, probably fawning over his every whim.

And now Potter was coming to stay with them. Kieran was sure his father wouldn't cater to Potter's every need, but the thought of sharing his recently found father with someone else made him unbelievably irritated. This was supposed to be the summer when he'd finally get the chance to know his father, after all these years of wondering who he was and what the man was like.

Kieran huffed, belly flopping onto his bed and burying his face in the pillows. When Kieran had been younger, he'd actually longed for a sibling, but now he couldn't comprehend why he had even wanted one to begin with. Perhaps he'd been bored or lonely, but Kieran figured he'd rather be both than to have to share his father with someone such as Potter.

What if his father somehow ends up liking Potter more? What then?

Kieran rolled onto his back, glaring up at the top of his four poster bed. No, he wasn't going to stand for Potter intruding into his life. He'd made it his mission to finally bring his mother and father together, and be the family he'd always dreamt of. No so-called half brother was going to get in his way.

Aunt Petunia's cold shrill voice and brisk knocks at his door woke Harry from his restless sleep bright and early the next morning.

"Get up boy and start making breakfast!"

He vaguely heard her unlocking all the locks on his door, then with one final emphasized knock, she walked away, marching back down stairs.

Harry rubbed a hand down his face, groaning at the harsh sunlight against his eyes. He laid there for a moment, simply blinking up at the ceiling, before everything that happened yesterday seemed to come flooding back to him. After reaching for his glasses and shoving them onto his face, Harry glanced toward his desk, and saw that the letter he'd received last night was still there, where he'd left it.

A confirmation that it hadn't all been simply a dream.

Snape was his father.

They had once been a happy family, evident from the photos and his mother's letter...

Apparently, Snape was capable of showing emotions other than annoyance, irritation, and hatred.

Never in a million years would Harry have believed Snape could to be so... human, if he hadn't seen those photos for himself.

It had kept him up most of the night, everything he'd learnt spinning around in his mind. He still found all this difficult to wrap his head around.

Though Harry knew, without a doubt, that the man seen in the photos— actually smiling, and openly showing affection for Harry's younger self— was not the same man he was presently familiar with.

The current Snape seemed to absolutely loath Harry with a burning passion.

And he probably doesn't want anything to do with me.

But if he did... For a brief moment, Harry allowed himself to imagine the man barging in on his relatives, to take him away from this place— like those fantasies he'd dreamt of as a kid locked in his cupboard— before he scoffed, shoving the thought away.

Then again, maybe his father would approve of the way the Dursleys treated him.

What a suitable way to knock the attention seeking rule breaker down a few pegs...

Harry sighed heavily, pushing his sheets back, then gently lifted his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, careful not to jostle his back too much. He glanced down at his bloodstained shirt, and quickly decided he needed to change. After rummaging in his dresser, he settled on one of Dudley's old shirts with a hole in the armpit area that was at least a bit of a better fit than most of his other hand me downs. With his clothes in hand, Harry quickly headed straight for the bathroom, glad it was unoccupied.

Then, as carefully as he could, Harry pulled the ruined shirt up over his head slowly and grimaced as some of the crusty scabs from the wounds came off with it. Taking a moment to assess his battered body in the mirror, he noted the bruises that ran down the front of his chest and along his sides. His back was worse; discolored bruises, raised welts, and red lines littered his skin. There were hardly any parts of his upper body that wasn't discolored, black or blue. It was as if he'd went through a jungle and barely made it out alive.

Harry drew in a deep breath then raised a hand over his injuries, concentrating hard as he cast a strong glamour to conceal all his bruises and welts. He watched as his skin smoothed over, appearing unblemished once again.

Wouldn't want anyone to find out how the hero of the wizarding world really looks, Harry thought bitterly.

Ever since the first time Uncle Vernon had decided to punish him a few days before he was due back at Hogwarts, Harry had made a point of looking for a spell in the library to cover up the damage done. Now he could practically cast it in his sleep, having done so on himself many times since that it'd become second nature. It was the only spell that Harry could perform wandlessly, and he figured it went undetected by the Ministry since they only seemed to track his wand.

After checking that all his bruises were covered, Harry left the bathroom and went downstairs as fast as he could, knowing he needed to start cooking their breakfast before Aunt Petunia decided to extend his already long list of chores for the day just because Harry had kept them waiting too long.

If there was a day where he really wished the Dursleys would completely ignore his existence, it would be today, especially after last night.

And of course, it was another sweltering day.

After Harry had finished making lunch, Aunt Petunia had locked him out of the house, ordering him to trim the hedges and clean up the flower beds.

The aching in his body was hindering his progress though, and Harry felt as if he was working at a snail's pace. He was sweating, the heat from the afternoon sun making his back feel as if it was burning. Wanting some relief from the harsh rays, Harry sought shelter under the shade of the large oak tree when he noticed that Aunt Petunia and Dudley were now watching the telly with their backs toward him.

He settled on the grass and pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms loosely around them. Usually the chores helped take his mind off of things, but today his body seemed to be have been working automatically while his thoughts kept revolving around his mother's letter and those photographs sitting on his desk.

Harry couldn't help wondering if maybe there was still a piece of the loving father from the photos hidden behind all the sneering and glaring of the Snape he knew today.

And the man would have found out the truth the same time Harry did... His mother did mention that she'd sent a letter to Snape as well...

Perhaps, it would be different, once Snape learned the truth... Just maybe...

Or maybe he'll deny it and laugh in my face for believing such stupidity, Harry thought as he absently tore up a fist full of grass and started ripping them to shreds.

He flinched when a brown tawny owl suddenly landed next to him, effectively pulling him from his thoughts, the wind from its feathers ruffling Harry's already messy black hair. The owl gazed up at him, giving a soft hoot as it stretched its leg out, signaling for Harry to take the letter tied to it.

"Thanks," Harry said when he'd done so, and after responding with another hoot, the owl took off into the distance.

Harry glanced in the direction of his aunt and cousin, ascertaining that their attention was still focused on the telly before proceeding to open the letter addressed to him.

Harry,

I will be arriving at Privet Drive tomorrow to retrieve you from the Dursley's. Due to the recent circumstances that have come to light, you will no longer have to stay with your relatives. 

Please be prepared to leave tomorrow morning when I arrive. I will explain everything to you then.

Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Harry blinked, rereading the short letter again.

A whirlwind of questions sped through his mind.

Dumbledore was coming to take him away tomorrow? He wouldn't have to live with the Dursley's anymore?

Then where was he going to stay? And most importantly, who was he going to live with?

The letter did seem incredibly vague, but nonetheless, Harry was more than happy knowing he was going to be leaving.

Then another thought occurred to him...

Does Dumbledore know Snape is Harry's father? Is that why Harry wouldn't need to live with his relatives anymore?

Why else would Harry get to leave the Dursleys and the blood wards surrounding Privet Drive?

It certainly seemed the most logical explanation Harry could come up with, and surprisingly, he found a part of himself hoping that he was right.

All he'd ever wanted was for someone to care about him, like what parents did that their kids seemed to take for granted. Someone who he could trust and be able to go to when he had problems, instead of always trying to figure it out on his own.

Though Harry couldn't see Snape willingly agreeing to take him in...

Was Dumbledore going to force Harry onto another person that didn't want him?

Well I'll just try my best not to screw this up, he thought, not realizing how desperate he sounded.

The next morning couldn't have come any sooner, and Harry was staring down at his few measly possessions he'd laid out on his bed that he was going to take with him, along with some clothes he'd packed that were at least in decent condition.

It wasn't much. His photo album he'd received from Hagrid and the letter from his mother including the pictures that came with it, were among the few precious items he owned. Everything else was still padlocked away in his trunk downstairs, hidden in his cupboard by Uncle Vernon immediately after Harry had set foot back in the house.

Harry sat a bit anxiously on edge of his bed, occasionally glancing out the window, waiting for anything that signaled Dumbledore's arrival.

The short letter he'd received didn't specify a time— it just said morning.

So Harry had been up since before dawn waiting, having not been able to sleep for long anyway, his mind consumed with thoughts of where he would stay for the rest of the summer. And Harry knew the blood wards only worked with living relatives...

And again, Harry wondered how Snape took the news to their relationship.

Did he believe it? Did he restore his memories that his mother had mentioned?

Harry would give anything to view those memories and to be able to remember something, anything, of his mother, other than her screams and pleads for his life.

The doorbell rang then, drawing Harry from his thoughts, and he went to his bedroom door, pressing his ear against it. A few seconds later, Harry could hear bits and pieces of Aunt Petunia's "What are you doing here?!" and Uncle Vernon's "Your kind are not welcome in my home! You cannot enter!" Harry imagined Uncle Vernon blocking the doorway, no doubt wanting to slam the door in Dumbledore's face. But soon, everything fell silent, an indication that his relatives had lost the battle and Dumbledore had indeed entered the house.

Harry had decided not to mention beforehand that the headmaster of his school was going to pay them a visit and take him away. It would save him from his aunt and uncle's imminent fit they'd have if Harry told them a wizard would be visiting their perfect home the next day. Though afterwards, they would probably celebrate that Harry was leaving for good. It had been expressed too many times to count that Harry was unwanted here, and that they were eager to be rid of their burden.

When he heard brisk footsteps coming up the stairs, Harry jumped back from the door and retook his seat on his bed. There was a brief fiddling and clicking of the numerous locks, then the door creaked open and Aunt Petunia peered in with a sour expression on her face.

"Someone's here for you," she said.

"Alright."

Harry followed her downstairs and to the sitting room.

The sight that met him was quite laughable.

Dumbledore was wearing a long black traveling cloak and a colorful pointed hat, seated in a multicolored armchair placed in the middle of the sitting room and taking everything in with mild interest. He looked ridiculously out of place.

Sitting on the couch across the room from him was Uncle Vernon, his face beet red, a vein pulsing dangerously on his temple while Dudley was trying to press himself as much as he could into the cushions, his hands underneath his overlarge behind. Neither said a word to Harry as he entered the room, though when Uncle Vernon turned his beady eyes to him, he looked as if he was about to say something, but then thought better of it, pursing his lips. Aunt Petunia joined the pair on the couch and wrapped an arm around Dudley's trembling shoulders.

The tension in the room could have been cut through with a knife.

"Ah, good morning, Harry," Dumbledore said pleasantly as he looked up at Harry through his half-moon spectacles. "Or, I should say, good afternoon."

Harry glanced at the clock on the mantle and realized it was just past noon, much later than he realized.

"Good afternoon, Professor," he replied politely, taking a seat in the remaining armchair close to the fire.

"I apologize for my slight tardiness," said Dumbledore, smiling. "How are you, Harry?"

"Fine, sir," Harry said automatically.

Aunt Petunia cleared her throat impatiently. "Can we get on with it?" she said sharply.

"Of course, Mrs. Dursley. Harry is no longer required to stay here," Dumbledore said, getting straight to the point. "He will be leaving with me today and will not be returning."

"Good riddance!" Uncle Vernon exclaimed, crossing his arms across his large form. "Was a no good waste of space anyway."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, then pierced Aunt Petunia with a disapproving look. "I had hoped that you would treat your nephew like your own when I left him in your care. Lily was your sister. No matter the differences between you two, she would have wanted you to have treated her son better than you have."

Aunt Petunia humphed, not at all affected by Dumbledore's disapproval. "We never wanted him, he was nothing more than a burden. Nothing more than an abnormal freak. As if we could ever have grown to love him."

Harry frowned, feeling as if he had been punched in the stomach. Of course he'd always known what his relatives had thought of him, but to hear it said so bluntly... it hurt. Especially coming from Aunt Petunia because he was related by blood to her, she was his mother's sister after all.

Dumbledore turned to Harry. "Go retrieve your belongings, Harry. I will be up shortly. We need to discuss a few matters before we leave."

"Yes, sir."

Harry stood, giving one last look at the Dursleys before he left the room, feeling their eyes following him out.

Back in his room, Harry sat back down on his bed to wait for Dumbledore, his eyes drifting down to the letter on the bed beside him.

Not a minute later, Dumbledore came in, giving a quick glance around the room before he shut the door behind him.

"All right Harry, we need to discuss your new living arrangements," Dumbledore started as he went to pulled out the old chair in front of Harry's desk and took a seat in it, "I have received a letter from your mother."

Harry gave a slight nod and Dumbledore continued, "She informed me of your relationship to Professor Snape, and he has agreed to let you stay with him for the rest of the summer."

Harry blinked, wondering if he'd heard right... Snape had agreed to let Harry stay with him?

That tiny bit of hope flared up again.

Maybe he remembered, maybe he doesn't hate me anymore... Or not that much...

"I'm afraid I have wronged you, Harry," Dumbledore said breaking Harry out of his thoughts. "It seems it was a terrible idea to leave you in the care of the Dursleys, but I had thought it was the best option at the time. Petunia is your mother's sister, I had hoped she would treat you as if you were her own. I had thought that it was for the best to leave you with the only family you had left. However, the Dursleys were never family, were they?"

"No, sir. They never treated me as part of their family," Harry said softly.

"I apologize, Harry," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes dimmed as he gave Harry's shoulder a quick squeeze.

Harry dropped his gaze to his hands that were resting on his lap, and nodded, not knowing how to respond. He didn't know whether he should feel angry at Dumbledore for leaving him here in the first place or for making him come back every summer, despite Harry's pleads to let him stay at Hogwarts. But he supposed the blood wards were too important...

"Hopefully, with this new arrangement you will receive what you have been missing."

Again Harry just nodded, not knowing what to say.

"I am pleased to have found out, my boy," Dumbledore said, causing Harry to look at him with surprise. There was a smile on his face, the twinkling returning to his blue eyes. "I am aware you and Severus had never got along in the past, but please try to Harry. There is no one I trust more to keep you safe."

"Does he even want me as a son?" Harry blurted out before he could stop himself. He desperately wished he could pluck the words out of the air and stuff them back in.

Dumbledore hesitated as if contemplating his response, "Just be optimistic, Harry. It will be a rough road ahead but it will not be like that forever."

I'll take that as a no. 

But he should have already expected that.

"Never give up hope," Dumbledore said as if sensing Harry's thoughts.

"Professor, how's Remus?" Harry had wanted to know for a while how his former professor was fairing, now that the last of his best friends was gone. He had to look away as the familiar feeling of guilt crept into his mind once again.

"Everything is fine. Remus is on a mission and should return shortly," Dumbledore replied, then he laced his fingers together. "There is also another matter rather important matter we need to discuss, before we depart." When he saw that he had Harry's full attention, he continued, "I have discovered very valuable information that will be crucial to winning this war."

"Does it have something to do with Voldemort, sir?" Harry asked, now intrigued at what Dumbledore was about to reveal to him. After being left in the dark for most of his fifth year, Harry was glad that Dumbledore was now at least including him in the war effort.

About time, if I'm going to be the one that actually has to defeat him.

"Yes, it is. You will be taking private lessons with me this year," said Dumbledore. "The information is very sensitive and not to be shared with the likes of anyone. I will inform you when term resumes. For now, you should enjoy the rest of the summer."

"Alright, sir," Harry said. "Has there been any incidents recently with Voldemort or his Death Eaters?"

"He is recruiting more followers at the moment. There has also been a few Death Eater attacks on Muggles, but none that we could not handle. Voldemort has not made an appearance, but that will likely change as I have been informed that he is planning an attack. This is why you need to stay safe Harry, do not leave the blood wards without Severus," Dumbledore said seriously.

Harry nodded to show that he understood the severity of the situation.

"Well then, shall we be on our way?" Dumbledore stood up and pushed the chair back into place.

Harry picked up the little things he had laid out on his bed. "Um, sir? My trunk is locked in the cupboard under the stairs. Could you unlock it for me?"

"Of course, Harry," Dumbledore said as he went out the door, Harry following behind.

Once downstairs, Dumbledore opened the cupboard and levitated his trunk out. With a flick of his wand, he banished the many chains on the outside of it. After Harry put the rest of his things in the trunk, Dumbledore shrunk it, so that Harry could easily slip it into his jean pocket.

"Do you have all your belongings?"

"Yes, sir. I'm all set," Harry replied.

"Any last words to your relatives before we take our leave?" Dumbledore said as he peered over his half-moon spectacles at the three Dursleys, who still haven't moved from their places on the couch.

Harry shook his head. "No, sir."

"Very well." Dumbledore steered Harry toward the door. Before they stepped foot outside, Dumbledore waved his wand over the both of them, and Harry felt a cold tingling sensation running through him, from the top of his head down to his feet.

"Disillusionment Charm," Dumbledore said simply.

Once outside, Harry paused to take one last look at the only home he had ever known before turning his back on it for good.

"This way." Dumbledore started walking in a brisk pace with Harry managing to keep in step beside him.

"Where does he live, Professor?" Harry asked.

"I believe you will find out soon enough," Dumbledore replied as they turned the corner onto Magnolia Crescent and soon arrived in an narrow alleyway. With one last look around, he held out his arm, "Take my arm, Harry."

Harry did so and the next thing he knew, everything went black. He found it difficult to draw in a breath, feeling as if he was being squeezed through a tight tube. Then just as suddenly, the feeling ceased, and his feet touched solid ground. If it wasn't for his hold on Dumbledore's arm, he would have fallen over.

"Did we just Apparate?" Harry asked, once his head had stopped spinning.

"Yes, and you did quite well," Dumbledore smiled. "Most people vomit the first time."

"Yeah, I think I'll just stick to flying," Harry muttered, leaning forward with his hands on his knees.

Once he wasn't overcome with nausea, Harry straightened and realized that the dark alley was gone, and they were now standing before the front gates to an enormous, beautiful manor.

It was just another day, another ordinary day.

At least, that was what Severus had been trying to tell himself...

For the past three hours.

He was settled in his armchair, a potion journal in one hand and nursing a cup of coffee with the other. He had debated substituting the coffee with something stronger— firewhiskey would have sufficed— but ultimately decided that it wouldn't look good on his part to greet Dumbledore in a drunken stupor, no matter how much he wanted to drown himself in alcohol just to avoid having to deal with the inevitability of Potter's arrival and the impending chaos that would no doubt follow. At least he was able to enjoy these last few Potter free hours in relative peace and quiet, after Kieran had left to spend the day at his mother's.

Severus was dreading the moment Kieran and Potter met, particularly after yesterday's tantrum his son had unexpectedly displayed. He certainly hadn't anticipated that level of reaction from Kieran.

It was going to be a long end to the summer— certainly not how Severus had imagined it— if he had to spend it keeping two teenage boys from hexing each other at every turn.

And once again, Severus inwardly cursed Dumbledore for deciding to thrust Potter into his home without seeing a need for discussing the plans with him first, considering it was Severus who would have to put up with the boy and provide his home to him for the rest of the summer. And if his assumptions were correct, Potter wouldn't be any more thrilled to be staying here either.

With that in mind, Severus had decided to write up a list of chores to occupy Potter's time here, which would hopefully keep the boy out of any mischief he was known to get into. He was certain Potter had never worked a day in his life at his relatives, no doubt having been pampered and coddled over all his life. Severus wanted it to be clear to Potter that he wasn't going to be receiving that sort of treatment from him. The chores would serve to teach Potter that not everything would be handed to him on a silver platter and to appreciate hard work.

Severus glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece; it was nearly noon, only half an hour more before Dumbledore would be arriving with Potter in tow.

He scowled, shutting his journal with a snap, and stood, finding he could no longer ignore the reality of it.

Harry couldn't help looking around him in amazement as he followed Dumbledore through the wrought iron gate.

This was certainly not a place that Harry would have imagined Snape to live in. Then again, he never really thought about where his professors stayed when away from Hogwarts.

The manor was beautiful, bright, and welcoming, standing majestically in the afternoon sunlight. The gardens around it were well kept and pristine, the hedges lining the pathway neatly manicured. It was a place that Harry could see someone like Malfoy living in.

"This is Prince Manor, Harry," Dumbledore told him as they walked.

"It's beautiful sir," Harry said, still taking in the sights around him.

"It certainly is."

When they were just a few steps away from reaching the front door, it suddenly swung open, and Harry saw a tall figure dressed in black step out into the sunlight. It was impossible not to immediately recognize the figure as Severus Snape with his greasy hair and hooked nose, his arms crossed tightly over his chest and an irritated expression on his face. This was the first time Harry was seeing the man after finding out about his true parentage, and he couldn't help but wonder again how Snape— his father— had taken the news.

And with that thought, his heart began drumming a rhythm against his ribcage, feeling as if it was going to burst out of his chest.

Why was he so bloody nervous all of a sudden?

It's just Snape... but he's more than that now, isn't he?

Harry derailed that train of thought, reminding himself that he should just feel grateful that he got away from the Dursleys, but he couldn't seem to completely push the prominent fear of also being rejected by his own father out of his mind.

Despite the summertime heat, Snape was still wearing his usual black outfit, though without the billowing robes. Not that it made him any less intimidating.

"Good afternoon, Severus," greeted Dumbledore.

"Headmaster," Snape returned, giving a curt nod. Then he set his intense gaze on Harry with black eyes still as fathomless as ever. Harry tried holding his gaze, but after a moment he dropped his eyes to his worn trainers.

"I will be enhancing the wards around your property. You should get Harry settled in," Dumbledore said to Snape as he gave Harry a gentle pat on the shoulder.

Snape pursed his lips. "Of course," he bit out, looking a bit reluctant as he stepped aside and allowed Harry room to enter.

Dumbledore gave Harry's shoulder a brief squeeze as he walked past him into the manor. As soon as Snape had shut the door behind them, he turned without a word and started briskly walking in the direction of the grand staircase, obviously expecting Harry to follow.

Harry did, and there were moments where he had to jog to catch up after realizing he was lagging too far behind. Snape's strides were long and brisk as he continued on, never seeming to bother turning his head to check if Harry was following.

The inside was just as magnificent as the outside, Harry concluded, as he was led up the marble steps and through hallway after hallway, then up another flight of stairs. All the rooms they passed were elegantly decorated and well lit with plenty of natural lighting flooding in through the tall glass windows. The place was obviously well kept, and Harry wondered if Snape owned any house elves that helped him with a manor as large as this. It wouldn't be surprising, but the fact that it was Snape who lived here was still mind boggling.

Harry remembered how he and Ron used to joke that Snape must sleep inside a coffin in a dark, cold dungeon. Well, Ron would certainly not believe Harry if he told him about this...

"Quit dawdling, Potter. I do not have all day." Snape stood at the end of the hallway, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he waited impatiently for Harry to reach him. Once Harry did, Snape sharply indicated the room to his left. "This is your room."

The room was noticeably smaller than the other rooms they had passed, but Harry didn't care as he took in everything, focusing on the fact that he was actually getting his own room that wasn't grudgingly given to him. It was beautiful; more than Harry could have dreamed of— certainly far better than what he had at the Dursleys.

The room was well lit, a steady stream of sunlight filtering in through the tall window with long curtains framing it, and a window alcove where he could sit and look down at the vast garden below. All the furnishings in the room seemed new, though less elegant than other rooms, with a gray and beige color scheme that matched the walls. The four poster bed appeared to be similar to the ones at Hogwarts, but with beige curtains draped to the side and a light gray bedspread instead of red. There was a small desk opposite the bed with a lamp on it, and a proper dresser stood beside it. He even had a bathroom all to himself that was connected to the room.

It was a lot to take in. Harry could hardly believe it as he continue to look around.

He couldn't help going up to everything and feeling it, just to make sure it wasn't all just a dream.

Severus remained standing at the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he silently observed Potter taking in the room.

He had expected the boy to begin complaining as soon as he caught sight of the room, demanding to have one of the other much larger rooms they had passed by on the way up here. It surprised him when Potter didn't.

Severus narrowed his eyes at him.

Just what exactly was the boy doing?

Potter was now walking around the room, running his hands over his desk, then the dresser, and the four poster bed...

Was the boy inspecting the furniture?

Checking to see if everything was up to his standards?

Obviously, this room was not. Potter must have had far better at his relatives, and Severus was determined to make the boy aware that he would not be receiving the same kind of treatment here.

Severus cleared his throat. "Is the room acceptable for the Golden Boy?" he sneered, finally stepping into the room.

Potter started at the sudden sound of Severus' voice, as if he'd forgotten that Severus was still there behind him, and instantly stopped what he was doing, turning around to face him.

"It's a really nice room, sir," Potter said.

There was no hint of insincerity that Severus could detect from him, and Potter continued looking around the room with... was it awe?

No, Severus must be mistaken.

But hearing this sincere statement from the boy about this room, which was far less spectacular than the many other rooms, confused him. Though Severus didn't dwell on it for long, deciding to lay down some ground rules so the boy would understand what he would expect from him.

"I expect this room to be well kept," Severus said. "No doubt, your relatives have been tending to your every need, but here you cannot call a house elf to do it for you."

The awe that was on Potter's face was now snuffed out completely as he frowned, looking up at Severus. He didn't respond, only giving a small nod to indicate that he was listening as Severus continued.

"I am not your relatives, therefore, do not expect to be coddled or pampered here as well," he said sternly, leveling a pointed glare at Potter as if daring him to refute it. "I will also not tolerate disrespect, and you will refer to me as Sir or Professor at all times."

An indecipherable emotion flickered in Potter's green eyes at that, but it was gone before Severus could identify it.

"Do I make myself clear?" Severus narrowed his eyes, wondering about the lack of protest.

Another small nod in response.

"I require a verbal answer, Potter," Severus demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes, sir," Potter replied softly, lowering his eyes down to his trainers.

Severus gritted his teeth, "Look at me when I am speaking to you."

The boy raised his eyes slowly to meet his and muttered another "Yes, sir," before dropping them the next second. Surprisingly, Severus hadn't been able to distinguish a certain emotion from them.

The boy is strangely polite today... none of the expected, defiant outbursts yet...

He better not be up to something already.

"Very well. I suggest you unpack, and be downstairs for dinner at six."

Severus turned, intending to stalk out of the room, but paused when Potter spoke again.

"Um, sir? Could you... unshrink my trunk please?" the boy asked hesitantly as he pulled out his shrunken trunk from his pocket.

"Set it on the floor," Severus said shortly.

Potter did so, and after a quick draw of Severus' wand and a silent, swift flick of his wrist, the trunk returned to its normal size.

"Thank you, sir."

Severus slipped his wand back into his sleeve and swept out of the room after giving the boy a stiff nod.

He pushed Potter's unusual behavior out of his mind as he headed outside, deciding to check if Dumbledore was finished with the wards.

Harry stood in the middle of the room for a few moments after Snape left. The contentment from receiving his new room had worn off by the coldness of Snape's demeanor. He shouldn't have expected anything different really— it was still Snape after all— but Harry couldn't help feeling a bit saddened by that.

He's still calling me Potter... Even though I'm not really a Potter...

Of course he was still going to think of Harry as a spoiled brat. When had he ever thought differently?

Maybe I could prove him wrong?

Hopefully there was a chance with Snape unlike at the Dursleys where there was absolutely nothing he could have done to change their minds.

Just maybe...

Giving a long sigh, Harry opened his trunk and started unpacking. It didn't take him long with the small amount of possessions he had taken with him from the Dursleys. He placed the photo album on the nightstand beside his bed along with the letter from his mother and the photos, his eyes lingering on the figures moving ceaselessly within them. Taking a seat on the bed, Harry flipped through the photo album and began adding in the pictures he'd recently received from his mother. Nearly failing to notice what time it was, Harry realized he should be heading down to dinner soon and closed the photo album before going into the bathroom to quickly freshen up.

As soon as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, Harry let out a small gasp.

There was a difference, only slightly, but it was definitely noticeable to Harry from yesterday morning.

His mother's charm must be wearing off...

He ran a hand through his hair, noting how his usually unruly hair had lost some of its unkempt look. It was now softer and able to lay flat for once, no longer sticking up in odd angles. He was also slightly paler, though not by much, considering he'd spent much of the last few days outdoors.

Even with the strangeness of it all, Harry found himself liking the subtle changes to his appearance so far. He did notice a slight resemblance to Snape, and Harry wondered what his true appearance would be like once the charm completely wore off.

Would he look more like his mother or Snape?

He wondered if his friends would still recognize him after this. What would they even think? Would they still want to be his friend? Harry wanted to write to them but Hedwig's not with him and he was definitely not going to ask Snape. Judging by the man's mood today, it was best not to get in his way. It seemed like just the sight of Harry could irritate him.

Harry sighed, then waved a hand over his face, undoing the glamour charm, and watched as all the bruises from Uncle Vernon's punishment a few days ago materialized. At least the bruises seemed to be healing. He gently fingered the discolored bruises on his cheek and on his arms, checking if there was anymore pain, before he quickly reapplied the charm. He hated looking at himself all battered and bruised; it just served to remind him of unpleasant memories and how much of a freak he was. Once he made sure all the bruises on his body were concealed, Harry began heading down to dinner.

It took some time locating the dining room in this large manor with Harry getting lost here and there, either taking the wrong turn or going too far. With just a few minutes to spare, Harry finally arrived, finding Snape already seated at the head of a long table when he peered in.

"Come in and sit, Potter," Snape said curtly, indicating the seat to his immediate left when he noticed Harry hovering awkwardly in the doorway.

Harry made to sit down, wondering who could be joining them when he realized the table had been set for three. Maybe Dumbledore was staying for dinner?

He didn't have to wonder for long when he heard the Floo roaring to life in the next room over, indicating someone had arrived.

"Dad?" he heard a voice call. "I'm back!"

Harry didn't think he'd heard right at first.

Dad? What in the— Who is that?

Harry blinked, his eyes widening slightly in surprise as a boy, with a noticeable resemblance to Snape, strutted into the room.

He walked with an air of pompousness that instantly reminded Harry of the way Draco Malfoy strolled around Hogwarts, acting as if he owned the place. Every feature of his appeared to be a muted version of Snape's, everything except his hair, which was a dark brown instead of black and his face wasn't as thin. When the boy's obsidian eyes— so similar to Snape's— connected with Harry's own, the intensity of the glare he was met with seemed to almost burn through him. Harry could do nothing more than stare and almost openly gaped at the boy, but the hatred radiating off of him towards Harry stopped him from doing so.

Once the boy sat down in the seat directly in front of Harry and to Snape's right, Snape said, "Potter, this is my son, Kieran."

Harry said a quiet "Hello" and received a sharp "Hi" in return.

Since when did Snape have a son? And why does he seem to already despise me? Why does everyone hate me? What—

"We need to discuss the rules before we eat Potter," Snape said to Harry, breaking him out of his jumbled thoughts. Once he saw that he had Harry's full attention he continued, "Breakfast is at 8:00 with Lunch being at 12:00, and Dinner at 6:00. Punctuality is a must, and if you are late, you will not eat. You will have to remember Potter as I will not be waiting on you hand and foot."

Harry nodded his understanding. It seemed doable to him. At least he could get three meals a day here.

"Starting tomorrow, I will give you a list of chores that needs to be done that day. I will not tolerate laziness Potter. As such I expect your work to be satisfactory or you will have to redo it the next day," Snape continued, as Harry noticed Kieran smirking from the corner of his eye.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied easily. He had no problems with having to do chores as he was quite used to it from the Durlseys anyway. He could only hope the list won't be as long as the Dursley's.

"You are also forbidden to enter my bedroom, Kieran's bedroom, and my potion's lab without permission first. Furthermore, knowing your troublesome tendencies, I will be confiscating your wand, broom, and that infernal invisibility cloak of yours," Snape said, then paused for a while as if waiting for a reaction.

Harry had to bite down on his tongue to stop the protest that was fighting its way out.

You have no right to take them.

Those were one of his few prized possessions he had and he never wanted to give them to Snape. The cloak was his da— James', the only thing that Harry had from him and his Firebolt was gifted to him from Sirius. He could make due without his wand, since he had been without it for a while now at the Dursley's, but the cloak and Firebolt...

"Disobey the rules and face the consequences. I can assure you, they will not be... pleasant," Snape said menacingly.

What does that mean? A chill went up Harry's spine at that and he had to look away to hide the slight involuntary shudder. Many thoughts raced through Harry's mind before Snape's voice broke through again, "You two will behave, I do not want any fighting. Do I make myself clear?" His stern gaze shifted back and forth between the two of them, but seemed to linger longer on Harry.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, averting his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever," Kieran said nonchalantly as he leaned back in his chair.

"Kieran," Snape said warningly.

Kieran rolled his eyes. "Yes, Dad."

Harry was surprised that Snape didn't tell him off for being disrespectful. He knew Snape would've never let anyone speak to him that way in class. Instead, Snape just gave Kieran a pointed glare that had no affect on him whatsoever.

No more was said as dinner appeared magically onto the table.

The tension in the room was palpable. The food was delicious though, but Harry could barely finish half of his plate. After weeks of being starved at the Dursley's his stomach wasn't capable of holding a lot of food. Even worse, the food just felt like rocks in his stomach that were weighing him down. Harry just resorted to moving food around his plate, attempting to appear as if he was still eating, when he really couldn't eat any more.

Interesting. Very interesting, Severus thought, eying Potter from the corner of his eye.

The boy had taken to the announcement of having to do chores surprisingly well. Severus had been waiting for the impending protests from Potter, but they never came.

Although he did notice the boy came close to protesting the confiscation of his important possessions. He fully expected the Potter he knew so well from school to re-emerge again, but then it had disappeared without a trace of it ever being there in the first place.

Perhaps he was finally going to obey the rules. 

Though Severus knew he shouldn't hold his breath.

Throughout dinner, he kept discreetly watching Potter taking small bites here and there. At one point, Severus saw the boy pushing the food around on his plate, not much of it actually getting into his mouth.

Is the food not to his liking?

Several harsh reprimands came to mind that was about to be spewed on the boy, but Severus refrained from doing so. It didn't escape his notice that Potter was behaving rather subdued. Not at all like the impudent brat he knew at Hogwarts. Kieran was occasionally giving Potter dirty looks, but the boy didn't notice, keeping his head down the whole time.

After dessert was finished, Severus said, "Potter, bring your things to my study."

Then he stood up and swept out of the room to go finish some work before turning in for the night.

Harry was about to get up as well, until Kieran spoke.

"Listen up, Potter," Kieran said in a harsh whisper. "You better stay out of my way, and stay away from my Dad."

Harry blinked at him. What was his problem?

"In case you didn't know, he's my Dad too," Harry retorted back.

Kieran snorted. "Yeah sure, but he obviously doesn't want you here either. Nobody wants you here," he said, glaring at him. "So it'd be better if you could leave us alone."

There was an or else implied that Harry could sense was left unsaid, and before he could even attempt to form a response, Kieran stood and strode out of the room.

Harry sat there for a while, still staring at the spot Kieran just vacated.

Then, suddenly remembering that he had to hand over his things to Snape, Harry went to his room to retrieve those items. He opened his trunk and pulled out three of the most valuable things he owned. He slipped his wand into his back pocket and held the silky invisibility cloak in one hand and his beloved firebolt in the other before making his way to Snape's study.

When he arrived, Harry felt as if he was about to give up pieces of himself. He quietly knocked on the door, and received a sharp "Enter" before he slowly walked in to stand in front of Snape's large oak desk.

"These will be returned to you at the end of the summer," Snape said as Harry put his things down on the desk.

Harry gave a long sigh before he nodded his understanding. When Snape returned his attention back to his work, Harry took that as his dismissal and silently left the room.

He slowly made his way back to his room. The walk did nothing to clear his mind of the dreadful thoughts still plaguing it. All those rules Snape gave were running through his mind.

What would happen if he broke one? It wasn't specified what those punishments would be, and Harry didn't want to find out. A detention was the only consequence that Harry had experienced with Snape, but now that Harry lived with the man, he has more control over him than he did at Hogwarts. Snape could punish him however he wanted and nobody could stop him. And Harry figured it was best to stay away from Kieran as well, knowing Snape would always side with his son over Harry if something happened, even if he watched it happen right in front of his eyes.

Just like at the Dursleys.

What if his punishments were like Uncle Vernon's?

Harry shuddered at the memories that surfaced from that thought.

He resolved to do everything the man said and was going to try his best not to screw this up. He was determined to prove that he wasn't a freak and burden because once again, he was stuck where he wasn't wanted.

It was nearly four in the morning when Harry woke with a start, his heart pounding frantically in his chest. He took several moments to get his bearings, staring up at the moonlight streaked ceiling as he drew in deep, steadying breaths in an attempt to calm his racing heartbeat.

Giving up on sleep as a lost cause, Harry slid out of bed and decided to work on his summer assignments that he hadn't had the chance to start yet, hoping to take his mind off the nightmare and keep it occupied. Usually, he could never do them at the Dursleys and would have to resort to hastily finishing them at the last minute.

Harry rummaged around in his trunk, pulled out his school books, some parchment, ink pot, and a quill, then settled at his desk and began working on his Charms homework first.

By the time breakfast rolled around, Harry had completed his Charms and a good chunk of his Transfiguration assignment.

He quickly got dressed and headed downstairs to breakfast.

Snape and Kieran were already there when Harry arrived, neither sparing him a glance as he took a seat at the table. Kieran easily chatted with Snape throughout breakfast, even while Snape was perusing the Daily Prophet, he still responded to everything Kieran said, and Harry couldn't help the sliver of jealously creeping up on him as he listened. He wished he had some sort of this easy going relationship with their father.

Harry focused his attention completely on his breakfast, keeping his head down and quietly finished as much of it as he could. He knew he would need all the sustenance if he was to complete the tasks Snape was about to set him for the day.

Once all the dishes had been magically cleared away, Snape flicked his wand and a piece of parchment appeared beside him.

"I expect each task to be completed today," Snape said curtly, handing Harry the parchment with his long spidery scrawl on it.

"Yes, sir," Harry said as he took it and looked over the list.

At least it was much shorter than any of the ones he had been given at the Dursleys. Those lists were impossible to finish in one day. This one at least seemed doable.

"Be careful when tending to the garden, Potter. Some of those plants were difficult to acquire," Snape said, then he pinned Harry with a stern look. "And I will be watching so I better not see you lazying about all day."

Harry nodded his understanding, then made his way out into the extensive back garden that was shrouded in the morning sunlight. Behind him, the manor stood gloriously with its many tall windows overlooking the back property, and Harry wondered if Snape would be standing at one of them, observing Harry closely, making sure he was working.

The potion's garden was in full summer bloom and Harry set to work, plucking the weeds grown around the colorful plants and herbs, ignoring the blisters that began forming on his hands as he continued on. He'd done this enough at the Dursleys to not really notice them anymore. At least his back seemed to have healed somewhat, no longer burning as bad as it was two days ago, though he was still working at a slower pace than what he would like.

After uprooting the last of the weeds, Harry took off his glasses and swiped away the sweat beading on his forehead with the back of his hand, then allowed himself a very brief break before he began working on harvesting the ingredients on the list Snape gave him. Thankfully, Snape had included instructions on how to harvest from the plants, otherwise, Harry wouldn't know where to even begin. Some of them had poisonous looking thorns and were relatively vicious looking.

Fortunately, he only ended up with a few scrapes on his hands and arms by the time he'd finished collecting the ingredients into a basket that materialized beside him. Harry carried it inside and was led down to the potions lab by Snape, where he was set to gutting rats and frogs, separating out the organs and placing them into jars.

Harry didn't know how much time had passed since he'd started, and it seemed as if everything was going smoothly for once. Though he should have known it was too good to be true.

"My dad's really putting you to work, isn't he?"

Harry jumped at the sudden sound of Kieran's voice behind him, but he didn't respond any further, deciding it was better to simply ignore him as he continued jarring some rat spleens. A smirk was plastered on Kieran's face as he strutted into the room.

"I suppose this is where you truly belong, Potter," Kieran sneered, coming to stand beside Harry. "You know, doing servant's work." He crinkled his nose, giving the rat guts a disgusted look.

Harry continued jarring the ingredients, trying not to pay any attention to Kieran's jibes, just like he did at the Dursleys whenever Dudley tried to mess with him while he worked on his chores. It never ended well for Harry whenever he had retaliated there and he just knew it would end the same way here with Kieran. Maybe even worse, considering Snape could use magic.

Hopefully, Kieran would get bored soon and leave him alone.

"It's not going to work."

That drew Harry out of his thoughts.

"What?" Harry glanced over at Kieran, not entirely sure what he meant.

The smirk was now gone from Kieran's face as he crossed his arms, glaring at him. "If you think my dad— mine not yours— is going to all of a sudden start liking you just because you did your stupid chores like a good boy, you have another thing coming."

Harry blinked, a bit surprised at that.

As if I didn't already know that, he thought bitterly, attempting to meet Kieran's glare with one of his own. It was certainly made apparent last night by both Snape and Kieran that Harry was unwelcome here.

"I don't think that," Harry said evenly. "Now can you leave me alone."

Kieran scoffed in response, obviously not believing him.

Harry turned back to the jars, screwing lids onto them with a bit more force than was necessary. He tried to refocus his attention on finishing this task, ignoring Kieran's presence as he gathered all the completed jars full of ingredients onto a metal tray and lifted it carefully, heading towards the cupboard where Snape kept his potions supplies.

Apparently, it was a mistake turning his back on Kieran. Harry wouldn't have missed the malicious gleam in Kieran's eyes as he drew his wand.

Everything happened too fast.

Harry heard Kieran mutter something under his breath, then without warning, his feet seemed to stumble over an invisible force. He was falling forward, the tray along with the jars flying out of his hands. Hastily reaching out, Harry just barely managed to prevent himself from running head first into the hundreds of glass jars lining the shelves, but the damage had already been done.

For what seemed like an eternity, the sounds of shattering glass echoed throughout the room, seeming to reverberate off the walls.

Harry stood quite motionless, taking in the sight before him, his heart thudding madly against his ribcage.

The jars he'd just filled were now cracked and broken at his feet, the slimy bits of rat and frog guts splattered all over the floor. Many of the jars that had been displayed on the shelf had also fallen from their places and shattered, the bits of animals and plants that had been suspended in multicolored potions were now spilling out of its containers.

"Dad!" Harry heard Kieran shouting as he ran from the room. "Potter just ruined some of your potion ingredients!"

I'm really going to get it now—

Snape stalked in not a minute later, his cold dark eyes sweeping over the mess on the floor before locking onto Harry. He looked downright furious.

"I was just talking to him, and he got angry and started knocking them off the shelves!" Kieran said from behind Snape.

Harry tried to defend himself, a slight tremble in his voice, "No I- I didn't—"

"I don't care to hear your excuses, Potter," Snape hissed, closing the distance between them. "You have single-handedly ruined a month's work of potions gathering."

Harry flinched when Snape reached out and gripped his upper arm, almost hard enough to leave a bruise, and began roughly dragging him out of the room. There was a horrible little smirk on Kieran's face as he watched them pass by.

Snape lead Harry down the hall to what appeared to be an unused storage room.

"This room better be immaculate by the time I return, or your punishment will be twice as severe," Snape snarled, throwing Harry away from him as if he was burned. Then he turned and left, slamming the door shut behind him.

For a moment, Harry simply stood in the middle of the room, attempting to take deep breaths and control his trembling. He'd fully expected a punishment similar to one of Uncle Vernon's, maybe even worse, and perhaps that would be what he'd get if he didn't hurry and clean this room before Snape came back.

He'd better get started. Who knew when Snape would return.

Harry hastily looked around, noting that the room was practically empty except for a long counter with a few cabinets and a sink situated in one corner. There were cobwebs and dust all over the walls and furniture, indicating years of disuse. Finding a bucket and some cleaning supplies, he quickly set to work, ignoring the exhaustion settling into his muscles and his now aching back.

Severus scowled and sharply flicked his wand, cleaning up the last of the mess that Potter had created. He also cast unbreakable charms on all the remaining jars, ensuring that another incident such as this wouldn't happen again. In hindsight, he should have done this sooner.

He'd expected a mishap to occur sooner or later, but was surprised that it had taken this long. And of course, Potter had decided to target Severus' potions ingredients— some of which he'd taken ages to painstakingly acquire. Fortunately, Severus had managed to salvage a substantial amount so it wasn't a complete loss.

There was a hint of satisfaction in seeing Potter's usual impulsive and careless self finally re-emerging after catching glimpses of the boy actually working throughout the morning. Every time Severus had glanced out the window of his study, he saw Potter continuing to work in the garden. The boy never seemed to take a break, Severus had realized, but didn't think much of it, glad that Potter was actually doing as he was told for once. And when lunch time rolled around, Severus and Kieran ate together while Potter didn't make an appearance. Severus had shrugged off the hint of concern in the back of his mind; he had made it clear to Potter what the rules were, if he didn't show up for meals, then so be it.

Severus shook his head, clearing his mind of all things Potter related and stalked back to his lab to finish the potion he'd been brewing before heading up to dinner. Kieran was noticeably a bit more cheerful at dinner, more like his usual chatty self from before Severus broke the news about Potter coming to stay here.

"Were you able to save some of the ingredients?" Kieran asked, spearing a piece of chicken with his fork.

Severus nodded. "Fortunately, most were salvageable," he said, cutting into his dinner. "What exactly brought about the incident?"

Kieran shrugged nonchalantly, making swirls in his mash potatoes. "Like I told you; I just asked him what he was doing, and he got mad all of a sudden."

Severus narrowed his eyes at him, sensing that Kieran wasn't telling the whole truth, but he mentally shrugged off the feeling. "I see. Well, I suggest you stay away from Potter for the time being. Remember the rules about fighting."

"I know, Dad," Kieran said easily. Then an eager smile appeared on his face as he asked, "Can we go flying tomorrow?"

Severus hummed thoughtfully, taking a sip of his tea. "I suppose so," he said, pleased to see his son's sour mood finally lifting.

After dinner had been cleared away, Severus went down to retrieve Potter and sent him back to his room for the rest of the night. He had been taken aback (and also slightly impressed) with how clean that dusty storage room appeared when he arrived, considering the amount of time Potter had been in there. His initial thought was that the boy must have used magic, but then brushed it off, remembering that Potter didn't have his wand.

Severus then instructed a house elf to send some dinner to Potter's room. Just this once, he would allow it, only because he knew the boy had worked the majority of the day and hadn't eaten anything since breakfast this morning. Even if Severus didn't like having Potter here, he wouldn't deprive the boy of basic necessities.

Once Harry made it back to his room, he collapsed tiredly onto his bed, releasing a long breath. He was rather relieved to have somehow avoided a more severe punishment. He'd scrubbed the floor and walls until his arms were sore and shaky, and when Snape had returned, Harry had anticipated the worse as he nervously waited for the verdict. It had come as a complete surprise to him when Snape simply gave the room a brief once-over and deemed it "adequate" before sending Harry back to his room for the night.

This time he'd managed to get off easy, but from here on out, Harry knew he would have to be extra careful around Kieran. This was no different than at the Dursleys. It seemed that no matter what Kieran did, Harry could get blamed for it. Snape didn't ask for Harry's side of the story and would just accepted Kieran's word.

A small pop suddenly sounded, and Harry sat up, spotting a tray that had appeared on his desk. It held a plate of roasted chicken with fluffy mash potatoes and mixed vegetables, and a goblet of pumpkin juice. The enticing smells that wafted over to him were heavenly, causing his stomach to grumble.

Harry took a seat at his desk and hungrily started to tuck in, eating as much as he could. He found it surprising that Snape still decided to give him dinner. After all, Harry had surely thought he would be going to bed without tonight, having done so many times at the Dursley's.

Even after the exhausting day he'd had, Harry still woke up early the next morning, and unable to go back to sleep, decided to finish his Transfiguration assignments.

Just as he was about to head down for breakfast, a rolled up piece of parchment appeared on top of his desk. It was his chores for today, much longer than yesterday's and mainly consisted of manual labor outdoors.

At least it wasn't very hot yet, Harry thought as he walked into the back garden after breakfast. It probably will be later in the afternoon and he wanted to finish mowing before that time. Taking in the enormous property, Harry knew it was going to take him a while to get that task completed.

He went over to the shed and was surprised to find what looked like a Muggle lawn mower inside, similar to the one Harry had used many times at the Dursleys. He hauled it out and began to mow the lawn, carefully maneuvering around the potions garden as he did. From a very young age, he had been doing yard work for the Dursleys with big machines that were difficult for any young child to handle. It wasn't anything Harry wasn't used to.

Halfway through finishing the lawn, Harry noticed Kieran and Snape strolling out of the manor, brooms clutched in their hands. They went to the side of the garden that Harry had already finished, mounted their brooms, and took off. It was still strange to see Snape flying, as the only time Harry had ever seen Snape on a broom was when he had refereed a quidditch match in Harry's first year.

Harry watched them for a few moments, the sight reminding him of when he dreamt of being able to fly with his da— James because everyone told him how good of a flyer he was. He had always fantasized about what spending time with a parent would be like. Harry could see Kieran laughing as he and Snape raced toward a large oak tree in the back of the garden, nearly neck and neck until Kieran pulled ahead just as they reached it. There was a big grin on Kieran's face and Snape appeared almost content— well, as content as Snape could be that is.

All of a sudden, Harry felt a pang of something and he had to look away, not able to watch them any longer. He almost felt like he was intruding on a happy father and son bonding moment.

Returning his attention back to mowing the lawn, Harry put more effort into his chores to keep his mind away from the depressing thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him.

Severus hovered on his broom, watching as Kieran continued to fly in circles around him. Though his mind was preoccupied by another matter at the moment.

Potter had already finished mowing half of the back garden. And it had barely been an hour since he'd started.

These were supposed to be punishments that would take the boy the entire day to complete.

If Severus didn't know any better he would have thought that the boy was used to doing this type of yard work.

There is something not quite right with the boy, Severus thought, no longer able to deny it.

Potter hadn't said a word out of place yet. Severus had anticipated Potter to groan and complain when he'd handed him the list of chores yesterday. And he'd expected the boy to not take them seriously and constantly whine about the hard work Severus was ordering him to do, but instead, the boy accepted it without complaint, not even a hint of resistance. Even more unsettling was that Potter had been quiet and even polite, no sign of the arrogantly defiant rule breaker Severus had known for the last five years.

Maybe all those encounters with the Dark Lord had finally got to him? Whatever it was, Severus was now determined to find out.

And exactly what was the boy wearing? His clothes seemed fit for a large whale not for a scrawny teen...

"Dad! Let's race to that tree again!" Kieran's voice broke Severus out of his thoughts. He directed his attention back to his son and nodded, indicating with a gesture of his hand to proceed.

Kieran lined up his broom with Severus'.

"Ready... Set... GO!"

During the rest of their flying session, Severus was often distracted by Potter's peculiar behavior as he occasionally observed the boy continuing to work, and Kieran would snap him out of it by calling out "Dad" every few minutes.

When Severus had returned to his study, intending on getting some work done, he found himself becoming increasingly distracted by watching Potter instead. The boy had finished mowing the lawn and was now in the middle of pulling a few weeds from the garden. From the second floor window, Severus could see Potter efficiently pulling out the weeds, as if he'd been doing it his whole life. Then Severus watched as the boy went back and forth, filling two watering cans at the well and then lugging them back to the potions garden to water the plants, sweat seeming to drip down his face.

A frown appeared on his usually stoic features as Severus glanced at the clock and realized that in the three hours he'd been watching, Potter hadn't once slacked off, nor had he taken a break.

At this rate, the boy would be finished with all his chores before dinner.

Severus would be lying to himself if there wasn't a small measure of concern beginning to build within him. He wasn't sure what to make of this new Potter, and he did not like being confused.

Just like yesterday, only Severus and Kieran were present at lunch. Potter was still outside, and once lunch had finished, Severus decided to (again) let the boy off the hook with the rule of being on time to meals in order to eat.

He went out to fetch him and found Potter in the potions garden, watering the Hellebore plants.

"Potter," Severus said, coming up behind him.

Potter flinched and turned around sharply with... was that fear in his eyes? It was gone a moment later, replaced with a suspiciously blank expression as he lowered the watering can and turned to face Severus.

"Yes, sir?" Potter said, averting his eyes and shoving his hands into his pocket.

Severus had noticed the slight trembling of his hands, but didn't comment, filing it away for later.

"You missed lunch," said Severus.

"Oh, I'm sorry sir. I must've lost track of time," Potter replied softly, looking at a point to the right of Severus' shoulder.

"Come inside, Potter. I will let you off this time for being late," Severus said, turning back toward the manor and expecting Potter to follow.

Harry brushed his hands on his trousers, getting rid of the dirt before following Snape inside. He cursed himself for letting Snape see that involuntary flinch he gave. How did the man manage to always sneak up on him like that? Were his shoes capable of absorbing all the sound or something?

He trailed after Snape, still surprised that the man actually came to get him and was letting him have lunch even though he had specifically stated Harry wouldn't get any if he was late.

When they arrived, there was a plate of food and a goblet of pumpkin juice on the table. With a sharp wave of his wand, Snape removed the stasis charm surrounding them.

"Go wash your hands and then eat, Potter."

"Alright. Thanks sir," Harry said as he made his way to the bathroom.

He was quite hungry, but was still unable to eat very much. Once he ate all that he could, he took his plate into the kitchen and was going to wash it when a pop sounded from his right, startling him.

"Young Master need not do that. That is Mimkey's job," squeaked a tiny house elf. It reminded Harry distinctly of Dobby, but dressed in a nice black uniform with a family crest on it.

"Oh, it's fine, I can do it," Harry replied.

"No no no. Mimkey can do it." The little elf shook her head as she took the plate from Harry's hands. "It is Mimkey's job."

"Er, alright... Thanks, Mimkey," Harry said as he left the kitchen and went back outside to finish his chores.

He managed to finish the rest of his chores just as dinner time came around with no mishaps unlike yesterday. After dinner, he took a shower, still relishing in the fact that he could use warm water unlike at the Dursley's where he was limited to only cold water and less than five minutes.

His body was tired, but his mind wouldn't let him rest easy. Seeing Kieran and Snape flying together today had unleashed feelings of longing that Harry had buried away long ago after he realized that he could never have that. He had seen Uncle Vernon spending time with Dudley like that and had wished that he could experience what spending time with one of his parents would be like.

Harry shook his head, he shouldn't be hoping for anything more than what he already had. At least here he wasn't starved or beaten because he didn't do all his chores right. Snape still let Harry eat even when he missed it. Even though Harry was certain Snape still hated him, the man hadn't belittled Harry like he usually did at school, nor did he say that anything was wrong with the chores Harry had done so far.

Maybe I actually did something right for once... Maybe—

No, he shouldn't think too much of it. While Snape didn't say that he did anything wrong, he certainly didn't say that he did anything right either.

Harry gave a dejected sigh and tiredly ran a hand over his face. He decided to work more on his school assignments before he went to bed.

It was close to midnight, and Severus was seated in his armchair in the sitting room, a potions journal open on his lap. Though it laid ignored as Severus stared into the crackling fire, his mind trying to comprehend the strangeness that was Potter.

Besides that potions ingredients incident, Severus could admit that Potter had done a good job on his chores, even completing them in a faster manner than he had thought possible without the use of magic. The boy must have acquired the skills somewhere— it was as if he'd been doing them for all of his life.

Again, Severus found himself questioning: Hadn't the boy been spoiled and waited on by his relatives?

After the past two days, Severus wasn't so certain anymore. He had been sure the boy hadn't done a hard day's work before in his life, and yet, Potter had worked diligently, never slacking off. It was as if the boy was used to it. Potter didn't even complain about being tired or demand for a break either, just carried on until the work was complete. Severus certainly thought that Potter would have put up a fight over three of his most valuable possessions being taken away, but the boy just silently acquiesced to his command. Potter had been more polite and respectful the past few days than Severus had seen from him in all the years the boy had been at Hogwarts.

More unsettling was the flinch that Severus had witnessed when he had called him to come in for lunch. Where did that come from? Severus was well aware of his intimidating presence, but he had never gotten that reaction before. Especially never from Potter. And was that really fear he saw in the boy's green eyes? The more he thought about this the more perplexed he felt. Where was that insolent brat that he had known for the last five years? So far the boy was a contradiction of everything that Severus had come to expect from him.

Just then Severus heard a pop and Mimkey appeared next to him, her eyes wide, wringing her hands agitatedly.

"Master Snape sir, Young Master is having a terrible nightmare up on the third floor in that small room! Mimkey was cleaning when Young Master started screaming and tossing in bed!" the little elf said frantically, nearly in tears.

"Thank you for informing me, Mimkey," Severus said as he promptly rose to his feet and walked past her, hastily making his way up to Potter's room.

Harry didn't know how he'd ended up back here, and he couldn't seem to shake the overwhelming panic coursing through him. 

The room seemed smaller, the walls closing in on him as Harry sat on the worn down bed in his room on Privet Drive. A few streaks of moonlight shining in through the barred windows were the only source of light in the otherwise pitch blackness that surrounded him. It was quiet until the sound of heavy footsteps from beyond his door caught his attention, stomping up the stairs and coming to a halt right outside the door.

Without warning, the door swung open, slamming the wall with a resounding bang and causing Harry to jump. He could make out the silhouette of a large round figure taking up most of the space in the doorway before the man entered, heading straight for Harry with the most malicious look on his face, accentuated by the dimness of the room.

Harry attempted to back away as far as he could, but his back quickly hit the wall behind him. 

There was nowhere else to go.

"Nothing but a freak! Always a danger to my family! I'm going to give what a freak like you deserves!" Uncle Vernon shouted, and before Harry could even try to get away, he was grabbed roughly by the arm and pinned tightly to the wall. Harry started squirming, even tried kicking and scratching, but nothing was deterring Uncle Vernon's grip on him.

Then, an all too familiar belt appeared in Uncle Vernon's hand. Harry flinched when Uncle Vernon swung it, causing a loud snap to echo around the room when it hit the wall beside him. 

"Nothing but a burden. Ungrateful brat. Worthless freak. Who would want you?"

Another figure cloaked in black appeared behind Uncle Vernon. Harry's breath caught in his throat, his heart dropping when he recognized who the man was.

"Yes, who would want you as a son? Always causing trouble to everyone around you," said Snape, his face twisted in loathing as he regarded Harry with cold black eyes.

"No... I'm sorry, I-I'll be good. P-please," Harry rasped out, his attention solely on his father before the wind was knocked out of him by Uncle Vernon's large fist colliding into his ribcage.

"Shut up freak!" Uncle Vernon's lips curled into a nasty smile. "You really think he cares about you?"

Harry fell to the floor next to Snape's boots as the belt began raining relentlessly down on him. He glanced up and saw Snape looking down his nose at him, watching with a cool mask of indifference on his face...

"Potter," a voice said suddenly, but it didn't seem to come from Uncle Vernon or Snape, and Harry figured he must be hearing things. But then he heard it again. "Potter!"

Harry felt himself being shaken, the voice becoming louder, sounding more urgent as it continued to call his name.

"Harry!"

Severus made his way through the manor, pausing briefly to peer into Kieran's room as he passed before continuing onto Potter's room. Once he arrived, Severus flicked the lights on with a swish of his wand, and the scene that he was met with was alarming to say the least.

Potter was obviously having a nightmare. His limbs were flailing about, getting tangled in the bedclothes, as if he was trying to defend himself from an invisible attacker that only he could see.

"No... I'm sorry, I-I'll be good. P-please," Potter mumbled, but Severus heard every word.

Fully intent on waking the boy now, Severus swept over to his bedside, leaned over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Potter," he called, but immediately drew back when the boy flinched violently, jerking away from him.

Trying again, Severus cautiously reached out and shook him, hoping to wake him from whatever terrifying nightmare he was suffering from.

"Potter!" Severus continued calling the boy's name several times, but all to no avail. It seemed to only cause Potter to become more agitated. He began shaking the boy harder, and in his increasing desperation, Severus shouted, "Harry!"

Potter gave a loud gasp then, his chest heaving, eyes opened wide and darting all around the room for a few moments. Severus straightened and took a few steps back, releasing a small breath of relief.

With trembling hands, Potter reached for his glasses on the nightstand and shoved them roughly onto his face.

"Sir?" Potter whispered, his voice slightly hoarse, when his eyes connected with Severus' for a split second before he averted them. It was enough time for Severus to catch a glimpse of the anguish in those vivid emerald eyes.

The same eyes that Severus had been so familiar with.

Lily's eyes.

He remembered all those times he'd looked into those green eyes that had held so much light and innocence, none of which were present in the pair of green eyes he was currently looking at. These eyes were dulled and haunted, misery practically radiating in waves off of the boy.

Severus felt an unfamiliar pang in his chest at seeing Potter in such a distressed state.

What could the boy have dreamt about to elicit this sort of reaction?

Severus studied the boy before him, noting how Potter had shakily sat up and curled into himself, hugging his knees tightly to his chest as if attempting to provide himself comfort. His shirt was soaked, his hair damp and plastered against the thin sheet of sweat on his forehead. He released a trembling breath, a few tears slipping down his cheeks before he rested his forehead against the tops of his knees and hid his face from Severus' view. The boy suddenly looked much too small and vulnerable.

"It's all right. It was just a nightmare. You're safe here," Severus said in a soothing voice he didn't even know he was capable of. He wasn't sure what compelled him to respond in such a way, but hoped that he was being somewhat reassuring to the boy. He'd never felt more out of his element. Providing comfort was never one of his fortes, and it had been many years since he had willingly done so. He'd always passed on the job of comforting the homesick first years to his Prefects.

"I-I'm sorry for waking you sir," Harry said softly, raising his head a bit and glancing apprehensively in Severus' direction.

Severus gave a slight shake of his head. "There's no need to apologize, I had not retired to bed yet," he said, still using that same calm voice as he slowly sat down on the side of the bed, leaving as much room as possible between himself and the boy. He didn't want to cause more distress by hovering over him.

They sat in silence for a few long moments as Potter attempted to calm his heavy breathing. Then the boy turned away and rubbed his eyes, wiping away the last few tears.

"What was the dream about?" Severus ventured once he saw that Potter had somewhat composed himself.

Harry froze, and he appeared slightly shocked at first, as if that was one of the last things he'd expected to come out of Severus' mouth. But then his small form started to tremble again and he seemed to wrap his arms tighter around himself.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said, vehemently shaking his head.

"I believe it would help to get it off your chest," said Severus.

Harry sniffed, releasing a shaky sigh. "Please sir, I... I don't want to talk about it," he whispered, a pleading look in his eyes.

Severus frowned, feeling a long forgotten emotion rising up within him, and he found himself giving in to the boy's request.

"As you wish," Severus said, deciding to let it go for now, but promising himself to look more into it later.

He didn't know how to deal with emotional teenagers and needed more time to think of a better approach to discovering what was the matter with the boy, because there was certainly something wrong. Everything that Severus had assumed about this boy these past five years was being contradicted. It was simply too much to process at the moment.

"Mimkey," Severus called, rising to his feet.

The house elf appeared with a pop next to the bed a moment later.

"Master Snape called for Mimkey?" she asked, before giving a concerned glance in Harry's direction.

"Bring me a vial of Dreamless Sleep, please."

"Of course, Mimkey will bring it straight away, sir."

Mimkey returned a few seconds later and handed Severus a vial of purple potion.

"Thank you, Mimkey."

"Does Master Snape be needing anything else?" asked Mimkey.

"No, that is all," Severus replied, dismissing her.

Mimkey gave a low bow, then popped out of the room.

Harry sighed, burying his face against his arms. A part of him wanted nothing more than to have told Snape everything. He wanted to just blurt it out because he was so damn tired of always pretending that he was fine.

Maybe, Snape would understand... Just maybe, Harry would finally get an adult he could confide in—

Or, most likely, Harry would receive a look of disgust from his father when Snape learned of how much of a freak Harry truly was. The fact that Harry could to get beaten down by a Muggle...

It was a good thing his glamour didn't slip. He didn't want to know what Snape would think if he saw all the bruises. The nightmare kept replaying, and Harry couldn't shake the image of Snape's look of utter revulsion out of his mind, the man's words ringing loud and true.

Who would want you as a son?

Of course, Snape wouldn't care. It's not like anyone bothered to care before.

If he doesn't care, then why did he ask about the dream? A small voice reasoned in his head. And why is he still here?

Harry couldn't even begin to wonder about that.

He'd been so lost in his own thoughts that he missed the entire exchange between Snape and Mimkey. He had only been drawn out of his thoughts when he heard Mimkey pop out of the room and saw his father holding a purple potion in his hand. Harry recognized it as Dreamless Sleep, remembering the only time he had used it was in his fourth year after the grueling third task.

Is he actually giving me a potion that would help me sleep?

"To help you sleep without nightmares," Snape said, setting the vial down on the nightstand. "It is up to you whether you wish to take it or not."

"Thank you sir," Harry murmured, forcing himself to make eye contact. He caught an unknown emotion in Snape's eyes, but it was gone a split second later, and Harry thought he might have just imagined it.

Snape gave a stiff nod, then turned and swept out of the room.

Harry watched him leave, and continued staring at the doorway long after his father had disappeared from sight. He couldn't quite comprehend what had happened and was still trying to process it all.

Why didn't he get yelled at for being a disturbance? Why didn't Snape just tell him to be quiet and then leave?

And Snape had been strangely calm, even a bit soothing, when speaking to Harry after waking him up from the nightmare. There had been none of the customary coldness or venom that Harry could detect in Snape's voice.

He sighed wearily and reached for the Dreamless Sleep, deciding to give up trying to make sense of all this.

Looking forward to a reprieve from the constant nightmares, Harry uncorked the potion and downed the whole thing in one gulp, only grimacing slightly at the bitter taste. As soon as he set the empty vial back on his nightstand, a wave of drowsiness washed over him, his eyes beginning to feel much too heavy. Harry didn't even bother to take his glass off or pull the sheets back over himself before he drifted to unconsciousness, finally sleeping without the risk of unpleasant dreams.

Unbeknownst to him, Severus had remained standing just outside of his bedroom door. He had watched Potter down the potion, then waited a few moments until he could hear the boy's breathing even out, before silently stepping back into the room. Severus slipped the empty potion vial into a robe pocket, and noticing Potter's glasses still on, he gently slid them off and placed them back on the nightstand. With a flick of his wand, Potter's sweat soaked shirt and sheets were dried, his hair no longer stuck to his forehead. Then, having done this for Kieran before, Severus carefully pulled the sheets up to Harry's chin and tucked them loosely to his side.

He lingered beside the bed, observing the boy's now peaceful slumber for a few more moments before he noxed the lights and slipped quietly out of the room, softly shutting the door behind him on his way out.

With so many thoughts occupying his mind, Severus retired to his own bedroom to think things over before turning in for the night.

Harry woke up the next morning feeling more rested than he'd had in a long time. He reached for his glasses on his nightstand and shoved them on, but immediately noticed that his vision didn't become clearer like it usually did. He blinked a couple of times, hoping to decrease the blurriness, but nothing changed. Taking the glasses off, Harry instantly noticed a change in clarity, and was surprised to find that he was able to see details at the other end of the room now. Never before had he been able to see this well, even with the glasses on.

It must be Mum's glamour still wearing off. 

Harry quickly slid out of bed and into the bathroom to see if anymore noticeable changes had occurred.

His physical appearance hadn't changed much since the last time he checked, beside the fact that he didn't seem to need glasses anymore, which was a relief because he never really liked those glasses anyway. Aunt Petunia had got them from a charity box and Harry had lost count of the many times he'd had to fix them with tape after Dudley decided to use him as a punching bag.

After taking a quick shower, Harry ran a comb through his hair, grateful that it didn't stick up all over the place anymore, and flattened his fringe to cover his scar. By the time he was finished, it was time for breakfast.

As he made his way down, memories from last night came to the forefront of his mind, and Harry felt embarrassed for letting Snape see him like that.

Was Snape going to say anything about what he saw last night? Was he going to use it against him?

It would be more ammunition for Snape to use against Harry in class... As if he didn't have enough already.

But oddly enough, Snape had acted completely different from what Harry had expected. The man hadn't belittled him for crying over a silly nightmare, nor had he shout at Harry for disturbing him and being such a bother. Uncle Vernon definitely would have just shaken him awake and told him to shut up or else.

It was still hard to believe that Snape had been so calm last night. Harry didn't know the man had it in him.

Even more bewildering was that Snape sounded like he maybe... cared?

No, Harry shook his head, pushing the thought away. Nobody had ever woken him up from one of his nightmares and wanted to help him. Last night had to have been just a one-off thing...

Harry sighed, not knowing what to think anymore.

Severus glanced up from the Daily Prophet when he heard the boy coming into the room. He nearly showed the surprise he inwardly felt at seeing the boy without his glasses, but managed to keep his face impassive. Those green eyes were even more striking now without those ridiculous round spectacles constantly framing them.

"Why are you not wearing your glasses?" Severus asked, and Potter seemed surprised by his question.

"Er, I guess I don't need them anymore, sir. I can see better without them now," Harry replied with a slight shrug as he slid into his usual seat at the table.

Severus raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't comment further as Potter began tucking into his breakfast and Kieran drew Severus into the beginnings of another conversation with a question about poison antidotes.

But throughout breakfast, Severus found himself occasionally glancing over at Potter, and from what he could see of the boy's body language, Harry seemed tense and subdued. He was hunched into himself, fiddling with his fork, and picking at his food, not really eating much of it.

Perhaps he is still troubled by that nightmare, Severus thought.

He had been up most of the night trying to make sense of everything he'd noticed from the boy so far. The more he'd thought about it, the more those thoughts started leading him down a path he never wanted to return to. Severus had forcefully locked those thoughts away, fervently telling himself that this was certainly not a comparable case.

"I will be down in the potions lab, and am not to be bothered," Snape told Harry and Kieran once breakfast had been cleared away. When he had received a nod from both, he continued, this time speaking only to Harry, "You do not have any chores today, however, I expect you to be working on your school assignments. No doubt, you were probably waiting until the last minute to complete them. If you are in need of resources, you have permission to use the library."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, realizing that Snape's voice sounded slightly less cold than usual today. It definitely wasn't kind, but it wasn't unkind either.

So unlike Snape.

Harry shook his head a bit to clear it and didn't think more of it. He was actually looking forward to a chore free day.

For the next few hours, Harry was in the library working on his potion's assignment, a couple books he'd found helpful on the subject spread out on the table in front of him. Having lost track of time focused on his work, Harry didn't notice that he'd missed lunch until Mimkey had popped in with a plate of sandwiches and a goblet of pumpkin juice. He couldn't believe that Snape had sent it, but Harry was grateful for it nonetheless.

After eating his lunch, he continued working until Kieran strutted in and came to stand in front of Harry's table, his arms crossed in an acceptable impression of Snape.

"Hey Potter," Kieran said, dark eyes glancing at all of Harry's work on the table. Feigning interest, he picked up one of Harry's finished essays and started looking over it.

"What do you want?" Harry snapped, snatching his essay back. He didn't trust it being in Kieran's hands.

"You know, I've been helping Dad out with his potions this summer. He says I'm far more advanced than my year level," Kieran said in a haughty sort of voice. "I'm sure I know more than you do."

"Good for you," Harry said sarcastically, focusing his full attention back on the book in front of him. "Can you leave me alone now?"

"I learned a lot from him," Kieran smirked, continuing as if Harry hadn't spoken. "It's too bad that you won't get to cause, you know, he hates you."

"Yeah, like I need you to tell me," Harry muttered, flipping the page. It wasn't new to him that Snape disliked him, he had known that for the past five years now, but Harry had no clue why Kieran also seemed to hate him. That was a mystery to him considering they have never met before, and Harry didn't even know he had a half brother until recently.

"Why do you seem to hate me?" Harry decided to ask, growing irritated by Kieran's attitude the more he thought about it. He reminded him a lot of Malfoy and Dudley. "What have I done to you, seeing as I've never met you before?" Harry looked up at Kieran, waiting for an answer. When he didn't immediately get one, he added, "Does it have anything to do with Voldemort?"

Kieran flinched at the sound of the name, but recovered quickly, rolling his eyes. "How did you survive that killing curse?" he asked instead, ignoring Harry's questions all together. "I don't see anything special about you."

"It was my mother who protected me," Harry replied, glaring at him. "Now answer my question."

Kieran scoffed, "Right, as if a Mudblood could be that powerful."

"Don't call my mother that!" Harry snapped through gritted teeth.

"I can't believe Dad stooped that low," Kieran continued, his lips curling. "If you ask me, I think she most likely took advantage of him."

He's just trying to rile me up, Harry told himself, trying to draw in deep, calming breathes. Kieran continued on, and Harry attempted to block him out as he stared back down at his book, but couldn't seem to take in any of the words on the page. There was a funny ringing in his ears as he struggled to reign in the anger building within him. The tips of his fingers were tingling and he could feel the energy swirling around the room as the books began rattling on the shelves and the table started vibrating.

"She was probably nothing more than a filthy whore—"

"Shut up!" Harry shouted, something finally snapping within him. He suddenly found himself on his feet, his clenched fist satisfyingly making contact with Kieran's cheek.

After his initial shock had worn off, Kieran fought back and had the audacity to be angry. Harry managed to duck out of the way just in time as Kieran swung at him, but wasn't fast enough to get away when Kieran lunged, knocking them both down to the floor. They began rolling around, both of them throwing punches and trying to gain the upper hand. All around them, the magic that Harry had been trying to restrain suddenly burst forth, causing books to fly off the shelves and turning over the furniture. Though neither noticed as Kieran pinned Harry down and landed a few punches to his chest, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

"Enough," a deep baritone voice broke through the chaos, causing both of them to immediately freeze. After a moment, Kieran quickly got off him and rose to his feet, Harry following suit, both panting and glaring at each other.

When Harry took in the state of the library, his heart dropped, knowing that he had caused this mess. He chanced a glance at Snape and immediately looked away when he saw the deep look of displeasure on the man's face, his dark eyes smoldering.

I'm really going to get it now.

Severus had been brewing an extremely volatile potion, one that required several precisely timed steps, when Mimkey appeared and informed him about what was occurring in the library. Knowing that he would have to start the potion over again later, Severus scowled and vanished the now ruined mixture with a sharp flick of his wand, then stalked to the library. He was certainly not in the mood to deal with a petty teenage fight, already having plenty of those during the school year. He'd expected this would happen sooner or later, but of course, it had to occur at one of the worse possible times.

He had arrived to see the boys rolling on the floor, engaged in what appeared to be a Muggle brawl amongst a library that was in a complete state of disarray. Books were strewn all over the place, pieces of parchment littered the floors, and the furniture overturned.

"What is the meaning of this?" Severus asked in a low dangerous tone once he'd acquired their attention, not bothering to conceal his anger. He fixed both Potter and Kieran with a hard glare, his eyes moving back and forth between them as he waited for an answer. At least they seemed to appear apprehensive, and somewhat contrite.

Good, they should be after what they did to the library.

"Potter started it!" Kieran immediately claimed, jabbing an accusatory finger at Potter before dramatically redirecting it toward his bruised cheek and split lip. "He just suddenly attacked me and punched me in the face!"

Severus looked towards Potter, expecting him to retaliate and refute that statement, but the boy just remained silent, keeping his gaze on his trainers. From what Severus could discern, Potter seemed to have gotten more injuries compared to Kieran, with a cut on his forehead, a black eye, and split lip. Though Potter was holding himself in a completely opposite manner than Kieran, and if Severus was being honest with himself, the meekness from the boy was starting to somewhat concern him. Unlike yesterday's incident, the boy didn't even attempt to give his side of the story this time, as if he thought his words would have no impact on the outcome.

Nothing at all like the brat Severus had known at school. The Potter he knew would have definitely argued back.

Severus released an irritated sigh, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I do not want to hear another word from either of you until we arrive at my study. Am I understood?" He waited until he received a nod from both of them, then sharply turned on his heel and led them out of the library.

Severus had decided to bring them individually into his study for further questioning, knowing he would never be able to get the full story with them together.

Harry trailed after Snape and Kieran, his anxiety and dread growing with each step.

Why did he let his anger get the best of him? Harry just knew he wasn't about to be let off the hook this time. He inwardly shuddered at the thought of Snape doling out punishments like Uncle Vernon's, though it would probably be worse if it involved the use of magic.

Once they reached Snape's study, Snape turned around to face them, giving them both a hard look.

"Both of you are going to come inside and tell me what happened." His dark eyes darted back and forth between them. "Truthfully."

Harry averted his eyes, fiddling with a loose thread on his trousers.

"Kieran, you first," Snape said as he stepped aside and allowed Kieran entry. He shut the door quite forcefully behind them, and then it was silent. Harry figured Snape must have erected a silencing charm.

With a heavy sigh, Harry leaned against the wall and slid down to sit against it, drawing his knees to his chest as he waited. The adrenaline from the fight had worn off and now he was starting to feel the full effects of his injuries. His chest was beginning to ache; the few well placed hits to his chest had hurt his ribs that were still not completely healed yet.

He buried his face in his knees and wondered what Kieran was telling Snape right now. Probably lying about the whole thing, Harry thought bitterly, but Snape's most likely going to believe him. It brought back memories of when he had fought with Dudley and Uncle Vernon never failed to believe Dudley's side of the story, never once giving any thought to Harry's no matter what had happened.

The door opened a few minutes later, and Kieran walked out looking a bit deflated, but he still smirked at Harry when he passed by. It looked like Snape had healed his lip and the bruise on his cheek. Harry just knew he would not be so lucky...

"Potter," Snape called from the doorway.

Harry rose to his feet and warily walked in. He barely managed to suppress a flinch when Snape shut the door behind them and put up the same silencing spell.

"Sit," Snape said, with a sharp gesture at the wooden chair situated in front of his desk.

Harry did, his hands resting nervously on his lap, waiting for the inevitable.

"Now, care to tell me what happened to bring about this fight?" asked Snape as he took his seat and folded his arms over the desk.

Harry blinked in surprise, hardly able to believe that Snape was actually giving him a chance to explain.

Should I just tell him? Is there even a smidgen of a chance that he'll believe me?

Apparently, Snape noticed that Harry was debating with himself. "I want the truth, Potter."

Harry drew in a deep breath, here goes nothing. "Well, I was just doing my assignments in the library and Kieran came in trying to rile me up. He called my mother a..."

"Go on," Snape said when Harry had paused for too long.

"Mudblood," Harry whispered.

Snape's dark eyes flashed.

"And when he almost called her a... a whore. I snapped and punched him," Harry finished, his eyes cast downward, staring at his fidgeting hands on his lap. The ache in his chest was now building with every breath he took, and he was starting to feel lightheaded.

Harry waited for Snape to start telling him off and declaring him a liar, but it never came.

"I see. Anything else?" said Snape, his voice strangely calm, but his eyes were blazing with unmistakeable fury, and Harry unconsciously backed up in his chair.

Maybe he should apologize for the mess he made in the library before he lost the nerve.

"Er, and it was my accidental magic that caused the mess in your library. I'm really sorry, sir. I'll clean it up, if you want me to," Harry said softly, dropping his gaze again when Snape narrowed his eyes and gave him a peculiar look.

"We will discuss punishments later." Snape stood and pulled out a small jar from one of his robe pockets, then gestured at Harry. "Come here."

Harry got up slowly and went to him, his head and chest now protesting to any fast movements. He ignored it, focusing on what Snape was doing instead. When Snape drew his wand and pointed it at him, Harry tensed, unable to hold back a small flinch, but managed to relax slightly as the man simply began healing the cut on Harry's forehead and split lip with smooth motions. He could feel a tingling sensation as the skin knitted itself back together. Then Snape scooped out a small dollop of the salve from the jar with his finger and started applying it onto the bruises.

Harry stood there silently, hardly able to believe how gentle Snape was being at the moment.

Is this how it feels when a parent takes care of you?

He had seen Aunt Petunia healing Dudley's scraped knees when he was little and how gentle she was when she cleaned the wounds and bandaged them. But the same couldn't have been said for Harry because every time he was injured, Aunt Petunia would simply throw a towel at him and tell him to do it himself, coldly warning him to make sure he didn't get any blood on the carpet.

His musings were cut short when his vision suddenly became blurry, and Harry blinked rapidly, hoping to clear it, but it didn't help. His head was throbbing and his chest felt much too tight and heavy.

With a surge of panic, Harry felt his glamour slipping and desperately tried to keep it up, but it was a losing battle.

Darkness was closing in around him, and Harry could barely make out someone calling his name, as if from a great distance. He was vaguely aware of a hand on his shoulder, trying to steady him when he started swaying.

The last thing he saw before everything went dark was a pair of concerned black eyes watching him.

"Harry!"

Severus dabbed the rest of the salve on the purple bruises of Potter's black eye, all the while considering appropriate punishments for that destructive fight the boys had in the library. He made a mental note to have a serious discussion with Kieran about his abominable word choices and his dishonesty. Being the Slytherin Head of House, Severus generally knew how to ascertain if his students were being less than truthful, but after today's incident, Severus realized that he'd become perhaps a bit too lenient with Kieran.

Kieran had recounted an embellished version of the events, omitting several important details when questioned about the causes leading up to the fight. Severus had been suspicious, but held off reaching a conclusion until he had heard Potter's side of the story.

The behavior displayed by the boy during the questioning was telling. Severus noticed the fidgeting of Potter's hands and the hesitation in his voice as he answered, yet he detected no hint of dishonesty, only truth in his eyes. And when Harry had told him the foul words that Kieran had called Lily, Severus had to suppress his anger behind his shields to stop himself from acting upon it. Considering this wasn't the first time Kieran had used one of those words, Severus certainly planned to do something about it. Apparently, he didn't heed to Severus' warning last time.

Severus had been so lost in his own thoughts that he almost didn't notice Harry beginning to slightly sway on his feet, and instinctively placed a hand on the boy's shoulder to steady him. Potter seemed to be on the verge of collapsing; his face was pale, his breathing short and quick as if he just couldn't draw enough air into his lungs. Then without warning, Harry's panicked eyes connected with Severus' for a split second before they rolled up into his head, and he went limp.

"Harry!" Severus shouted in alarm, managing to catch the boy just in time to prevent his head from hitting the edge of the desk. He gently lowered Harry to the floor and tried shaking him, continuing to call his name as he did, but any attempts at rousing the boy were futile.

Deciding to move Harry off the hard floor, Severus easily lifted him up, frowning when he noticed how light, and much too thin, the boy was.

After settling Harry on the settee, Severus knelt beside him, his long fingers grasping Harry's wrist and searching for a pulse when he thought the boy appeared to be much too still. He released a small sigh of relief when he found one, thready and a bit weak, but present. He placed a hand on Harry's forehead and found it warm, his skin feeling clammy to the touch. Perhaps the boy was more injured from the fight than Severus had realized...

Suddenly, right before Severus' eyes, Harry appeared to be... changing. Severus stared in alarm as the boy's skin, which had just been healed a few minutes prior, was now becoming discolored and bruised again. There were also noticeable scars forming on Harry's arms, some of which were thin white lines, indicating that they had not been acquired recently.

Where on earth did the boy get these? Had he been concealing them with a glamour this whole time...?

With a sharp flick of his wand, Harry's overly large shirt vanished, and Severus nearly gasped in horror at what had been hidden underneath.

Dear Merlin... 

The boy was bruised all over, a kaleidoscope of discoloration that left nearly no skin unblemished, and Severus could almost count every rib protruding from Harry's much too thin chest.

Gently rolling the boy onto his side, Severus' concern only increased when he saw that Harry's back wasn't any better than his front. Multiple lacerations littered the boy's back, and there were old marks that have long turned into scars and new wounds that Severus knew must have been recent. He winced as he studied the redness around the wounds, noticing how they were inflamed and appeared to be infected. From a belt buckle, Severus thought darkly. He was all too familiar with the damage that belt buckles could cause, given some of his own scars, but his weren't nearly as severe.

He lightly traced over an old scar on Harry's back, just to confirm that it was real, to make sure that it wasn't just a figment of his imagination.

Realizing that Harry needed more medical attention than he alone could provide, Severus hastily made his way to the fireplace and tossed a pinch of Floo powder into the grate, calling for the Hogwart's infirmary. He stuck his head in, waiting for the spinning to stop before opening his eyes to the floor of Madam Pomfrey's office. Poppy was seated at her desk, perusing some medical records.

"Poppy?" Severus said to gain her attention.

Poppy looked up from her work, turning towards Severus' direction.

"Severus? What is it?" she asked, taking her reading glasses off.

"I require your assistance. It is urgent, please bring your supplies," Severus said, and without elaborating further on the situation, he pulled his head back.

Not a moment too soon, Poppy arrived with her medical supplies bag, brushing the soot off her robes as she stepped out of the fire.

"What is so urgent, Sev—" Poppy cut herself off and gasped when she noticed Harry on the settee. "What has happened?"

"I'm not entirely certain yet," Severus said with a slight shake of his head. "I was healing his bruises from an earlier conflict when he fainted, and it appears that he has been wearing a glamour."

Poppy quickly cast a diagnosis spell on Harry with a wave of her wand. A piece of parchment appeared beside him, beginning to list all the injuries that he had suffered so far. Severus watched as it lengthened, his heart dropping as the list continued to grow longer and longer with each passing second.

It seemed endless.

Once it finally finished, both of them stared at the parchment in disbelief.

Just how much had this boy been through?

Severe malnutrition... dehydration... broken bones... concussions... burns...

All those thoughts Severus had adamantly pushed away returned with a vengeance now as snippets of the past couple of days flashed through his mind...

How the boy had been nothing but polite and obedient, doing everything he was told without a single protest and effortlessly finishing the chores with no complaints whatsoever about being tired or wanting a break. As if he's used to it...

And then there was the unmistakable flinch Harry gave, along with the barely concealed fear in his eyes when Severus had came up behind the boy to tell him to come in for lunch...

How submissive Harry had been after his fight with Kieran in the library... Did the boy think he was going to get severely punished?

Then there had been the nightmare that Severus had to wake Harry from yesterday, the boy seemingly thrashing and dodging hits in his sleep as if he was trying to get away from someone... And Harry's unnecessary apology for supposedly waking Severus up, along with the obvious surprise when Severus asked about the nightmare... The anguish in those green eyes...

Everything makes sense now...

All the little tidbits that Severus had obtained from observing Harry were finally piecing together, forming a startlingly clear picture of what the boy must have been through.

Why hadn't anyone noticed this? After all these years surely his friends, Albus, or Minerva should have known about this? Or Lupin and Black should have definitely noticed something. They were rather close to the boy after all.

But if they did, then why didn't anybody do anything about it?

Why couldn't I have seen it?

Severus had to swallow past the sudden bitter taste in his mouth. Because you had been too blinded by your hatred to notice what was in front of you, Severus.

"I have never seen a child with so many injuries," Poppy whispered, clapping a hand to her mouth as she looked sadly down at Harry.

Severus plucked the parchment out of the air and continued to stare at it, a surge of anger building within him. He struggled to contain it, his fingers creating creases in the parchment from his tight grip. He was absolutely livid at the boy's relatives, who were no doubt the perpetrators of these injuries upon their nephew, as well as furious with Albus for deciding to leave Harry with them in the first place. But most of all, Severus was angry at himself for not recognizing the signs for what they were.

"He has a fever due to the infection that's starting to set in. There's also broken ribs that needs to fixed before they puncture his lungs. At the moment, they are hindering his ability to breath properly. The trauma from that conflict must have prolonged its healing," Poppy said, breaking Severus out of his thoughts. She proceeded to pull out the appropriate potions and salves needed from her bag. "He also has a few bones that had been healed incorrectly."

Severus sighed, forcing his emotions to the back of his mind, and focused on the task at hand now, which was to heal Harry's current injuries. How the boy managed to not succumb to these injuries sooner was beyond him.

Poppy first spelled a Fever Reducer into Harry's stomach and a dose of Dreamless Sleep to ensure that the boy didn't wake while they treated him. Then she began to efficiently cast spells to clean and heal the infected wounds on the boy's back. Severus helped her re-break the wrongly healed bones and set them to heal correctly, before administering a dose of Skele-Gro to start mending the broken bones. They finally finished by rubbing the bruise salve over all of the bruises covering Harry's torso, arms, and face. Neither one spoke a word the entire time as they worked, both lost in their own thoughts.

After a couple of hours spent tending to the boy, they both sank tiredly onto armchairs that Severus had conjured up.

"He's going to need nutrient potions to take with every meal," Poppy told him. "He's far too thin and malnourished."

Severus nodded his understanding, his gaze never leaving Harry. It didn't escape his notice that the boy wasn't eating as much as an average sixteen year old should be, but he had simply brushed it off as insignificant, assuming the boy was just being fussy about what he eats. Severus sighed, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands. Perhaps he should just toss all his assumptions out the window, and start anew...

Poppy rummaged in her bag and pulled out a small jar containing anti-scarring cream. "It won't have any effect on the older scars, but this will take care of the more recent ones just fine." She handed it to Severus, who slipped it into his robe pocket to apply on the boy later.

"He should be fine after some much needed rest," Poppy said as she flicked her wand, causing all the supplies to pack themselves back into her bag. "Albus informed me of your relationship to Harry. Personally, I think it's wonderful that Harry has someone to fully support him now." She glanced at Severus before shifting her gaze onto Harry and giving a sad smile, "Merlin knows he needs it after these last few years."

Severus was a little surprised at her words, but his features remained expressionless. He simply gave a tiny nod of acknowledgment.

"It's amazing that he's held up this long," Poppy said quietly.

"Yes, it is," Severus said, his voice no more than a whisper.

"Minerva told me they were the worst sort of Muggles," said Poppy, shaking her head. She gave an exasperated sigh. "I still can't believe Albus left Harry there in the first place, much less sending him back there every summer."

Severus exhaled slowly though his nose, feeling his anger reigniting just below the surface.

What good were the blood wards if the boy wasn't also safe inside them?

Severus had known Petunia despised anything to do with magic ever since that day he'd met her, and if she was anything like she was before, then it was no wonder that hatred had been passed onto Harry. She had been spiteful and jealous of Lily, but Severus couldn't believe that her hatred had spilled this severely onto her own nephew.

"Someone should have checked on him," said Severus, clenching his hands tightly into fists.

"Harry had hidden the signs fairly well."

"Yes, but I should have recognized them for what they were," he muttered, running an agitated hand over his face.

"You can be there for him now, Severus." Poppy patted his shoulder. "I have always noticed how thin he was at the beginning of the school years, but he was always too stubborn to go to the hospital wing." She gave a slight smirk, "Now I know where he gets it from."

Severus gave a stiff nod. He wondered what he would have done if he had noticed. Would he have tried to help the boy, or would he let his hatred overrule all rational thought? He shook his head, there was no point in what ifs. All he could do was to be there for Harry now.

Poppy gave a long sigh, then rose to her feet. "Well, I should return to Hogwarts. Floo call me if you need anything."

"Thank you, Poppy."

She inclined her head and glanced one more time at Harry before vanishing in the green flames.

Severus murmured a featherlight charm and carefully gathered Harry up, scooping him beneath the knees and back, then made his way to the boy's room. When they finally arrived, he gently set Harry down on the bed, making sure not to jostle his healing injuries. He went to the dresser to get the boy a shirt, but was dismayed to discover that all his clothes were of the same quality. Overlarge, ripped, and worn down. Severus was definitely going to have to take the boy shopping one day.

Giving up on finding a decent enough shirt from those rags, Severus summoned a shirt of his own and shrunk it down to fit the boy. He spelled it onto Harry and transfigured the boy's jeans into pajamas before pulling the blankets up and tucking them up to his chin.

Then, with a wide wave of his wand, Severus conjured a comfortable armchair beside the bed and tiredly sank into it.

He took a glance around the fairly sparse room, noting how tidy and organized everything was.

On the boy's desk, Severus caught a pile of rolled up parchment next to some of his school books and realized that they must be Harry's finished school assignments. He had actually been doing his homework? Severus had never known the boy to be studious, considering he'd only been mediocre at best in class, but then he remembered how Harry had spent most of the day in the library, working on his assignments like Severus told him to. Not like the boy he knew— well, the boy he assumed he was...

It just occurred to Severus that he didn't really know Harry at all. In the last five years he hadn't managed to recognize the boy's true personality. Severus had been looking through specialized lens that blocked out anything that was uniquely Harry and only saw who he wanted to see, not who was truly in front of him. Well, no more. Severus was now determined to get to know the boy.

And for the first time since Harry arrived, Severus really studied the boy.

Didn't Lily mention a glamour in her letter?

He couldn't deny it anymore.

Harry's facial features were similar to Severus' own, but there were also hints that were unmistakably Lily. The curve of his eyebrows, his nose, the shape of his lips, and his chin were all Lily. Thankfully, Harry didn't inherit the hooked nose, though the shape of the boy's face and cheekbones were most definitely from Severus. It also seemed that Harry's hair had lost the familiar, unruliness that was Potter's signature style, now looking smoother and neater, similar to Severus' own, but without the greasiness.

The perfect mixture of the both of us...

His and Lily's.

Our son.

Leaning forward, Severus gently brushed a few errant strands of dark hair back from the boy's forehead, his fingers lingering a bit longer than he intended.

He gave a weary sigh, feeling a tightness in his throat as he buried his head in his hands.

What would Lily think if she saw their son like this?

So battered and bruised, but hopefully not broken.

Severus stayed by Harry's bedside for a couple hours reading a potions journal until he had to go to dinner. He wanted to be there when Harry woke and figured the boy wouldn't be waking for at least a few more hours. Kieran was already in his usual seat waiting for him, and dinner appeared on the table as soon as Severus sat down.

"Where's Potter?" Kieran asked after swallowing a mouthful of pasta. "Is his punishment to go without dinner?"

"No, he's resting," Severus replied simply, cutting into his chicken. He was certainly not about to provide more details, and it wasn't Kieran's business to know.

"Why? Was that little fight too much for him to handle?" Kieran had a suspicious look in his eyes, accompanied by a smirk plastered on his face that Severus was all too familiar with now. It reminded Severus of the discussions he still needed to have with him.

After pointing a disapproving glare at Kieran, Severus set his plate aside and said, "Kieran, we need to have a serious talk."

Kieran furrowed his brows, his smirk disappearing. "About what?"

"About lying and that abysmal mouth of yours."

Severus caught the startled look that flashed briefly across Kieran's face.

"What are you talking about?" he asked innocently, trying to appear nonchalant. Severus could tell he was deliberately trying to prolong this conversation.

"I am referring to your version of the events that brought about the fight."

"I already told you what happened," Kieran said, his features composed, though Severus noticed he was fidgeting with his fork. "Whatever Potter told you is a lie."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "What he told me, did not coincide with your version of the events."

Kieran scowled, then said a bit more forcefully, "Potter was lying then!"

At the sight of Severus' glare deepening, his lips thinning into a severe line, Kieran dropped his gaze to his plate. Honestly, the boy wasn't a very convincing liar.

"Why am I finding this hard to believe?" Severus said sarcastically, irritation coloring his tone. His patience was running thin.

"I told you the truth!" Kieran said indignantly, glancing up at a point somewhere above Severus' left shoulder.

"If you did, then look me in the eye and say it," Severus demanded.

Kieran tried holding his intense gaze, but couldn't maintain the eye contact for long before averting his eyes again.

"Fine. I might have said some things to him, but he still threw the first punch," Kieran admitted reluctantly. He huffed then narrowed his eyes at Severus. "Why are you suddenly taking his side?"

"I'm taking the side of the truth," Severus simply told him, folding his arms across his chest. He suddenly remembered that incident between Harry and Kieran with his potion ingredients and asked, "Is there anything else I should be aware of? Now is your opportunity to confess because if I find out later, I assure you, the consequences will be even more unpleasant."

Kieran pressed his lips into a thin line, defiantly keeping his mouth shut, though he appeared conflicted. Severus waited for a response, and after several moments of silence had passed between them, Kieran finally spoke.

"Fine," he said, seeming to deflate a bit. "I may have tripped him in your potions cupboard..."

Something fit into place then, and Severus felt a pang of guilt as he recalled dragging Harry from the room without allowing him to explain his side first. He remembered having suspicions about that incident afterwards, but he'd disregarded them in favor of believing Kieran's claims and Harry had been the one wrongfully punished for it.

"I believe something needs to be done about this little habit of yours," Severus said in a low dangerous tone, trying not to let his anger get the best of him. Kieran, for once, seemed to wither a bit under Severus' glare. "And considering you decided to ignore my warning about using that word, I stand by what I said your punishment was going to be."

Kieran appeared startled. "You were serious?"

Severus gave a short nod. "I always am."

"But that's the type of work for bloody house elves!" Kieran said indignantly, his defiance returning as he attempted to glare back. "I'll just tell mother what you're making me do!"

"You are in my care at the moment, and therefore, have to abide by my rules," said Severus sternly. "Tomorrow, you will serve your punishments."

Kieran opened his mouth to protest further, but snapped it shut before any words came out. Apparently, he figured that it was no use trying to argue. Though that didn't stop Kieran from pouting at him, looking every bit like a petulant child. Severus ignored it, continuing to eat his dinner.

It was a few hours into the night when Harry was starting to come around. At first, he thought he was back in his room at Privet Drive, but that wasn't right... the bed he was resting on felt much too warm and comfortable. He slowly opened his eyes and glanced around the dimly lit room, noting that it was already dark outside. Beside his bed, there was an armchair and Harry was a bit startled to find Snape sitting in it, reading a book.

How long had I been out? Harry wondered. And why is Snape sitting there...?

Harry gave an imperceptible groan as he attempted to push himself up to a sitting position with his elbows, his entire body feeling sore, protesting to the movement. He was stopped when Snape leaned over him, placing a warm hand on his chest and gently pushing him back down.

"Careful, your injuries are still healing," Snape said in a quiet voice. He summoned some pillows and propped them up against the headboard, then carefully helped Harry sit up to rest against them.

Harry blinked, staring at Snape in confusion for a moment. Then, it all started to come back to him...

The fight in the library, going into Snape's study, his chest hurting and the lightheadedness as he was getting his bruises healed, and then blacking out... Oh no. 

He remembered desperately trying to keep his glamour up before he passed out. Alarmed, Harry looked down at his arms and saw the familiar red streaks covering his pale skin.

His heart sank; Snape would have seen the scars on his back and the wounds from that last beating as well.

Harry dropped his gaze, focusing intently on a loose thread on the blanket. He couldn't look at Snape now, imagining the look of disgust that must be on the man's face.

He probably thinks I'm a freak now.

"Harry, look at me."

It was spoken with an unfamiliar gentleness, and Harry couldn't help raising his head back up to gaze in Snape's direction. There wasn't any anger or disgust coating his father's deep voice that Harry had expected to hear.

And he just called him Harry...

"There is nothing to be ashamed about," Snape said before he pulled out a jar of ointment from his robe pocket. "This is cream for your scars. It won't have an effect on the older scars, but it will work fine for the recent ones. If you are willing, I would like to apply it to the ones on your back."

Harry looked at the jar and then back at his father. He just nodded his assent, still too stunned by this strange situation. Maybe he was still asleep, and this was just a dream...

His father gently helped him turn onto his side, then slowly lifted his shirt and started applying the cool salve, his movements smooth and gentle.

"How did you cast that glamour?" Snape asked from behind him.

"Wandless magic, sir," Harry said it so quietly, he was surprised that Snape even heard him as that hand on his back had stilled for a moment before resuming its ministrations.

"You should no longer conceal the injuries; it uses far too much of your strength that you need in order to heal," his father said, still maintaining that bewildering soft tone.

Harry remained silent, not knowing how to respond to that. Why wasn't Snape sneering at him yet? Why wasn't the man giving him the same look of contempt that Harry always received at the Dursleys? Shockingly, Snape was speaking to him softly, almost comfortingly— something Harry never expected the man was even capable of before yesterday— and even healed his injuries. Nobody had ever taken care of him like this. Harry always had to figure out how to deal with his injuries himself.

Surely this was too good to be true...

Once his father finished applying the salve, he helped Harry sit up and lean back comfortably on the pillows.

"Why did you not tell anyone?" Snape's expression was unfathomable as usual, but his voice held an odd quality to it now and there was something in those dark eyes that Harry couldn't identify.

Harry shrugged, averting his gaze and beginning to pick at a loose thread on the edge of his blanket.

Many thoughts were running through Harry's mind, tumbling over each other as they competed for his attention.

Should he just tell him and hope for the best? The man had already seen all the bruises and scars, there was nothing left to hide...

Wasn't this what he wanted yesterday when Snape had woken him up from his nightmare? To be able to confide in someone about his long kept secrets?

But then again, this was still Snape... The man who had constantly belittled and taunted him for the past five years... And suddenly, a wave of anger and resentment rushed through him as memories of all the times he'd been singled out in class and all the unfair treatment he'd been given came back to him...

No, he wouldn't care—

"I can't help you if you don't talk to me, Harry," Snape said softly, drawing Harry out of his turbulent thoughts. He heard the concern in the man's voice, noticed it on his usually unreadable face, and there was something in Harry that was clawing its way out, his anger having left him as quickly as it had appeared.

Harry wanted to— desperately wanted to— but he couldn't seem to get the words to form. Too many years had been spent burying the issue, pushing it away, and pretending that everything was fine...

An irritating lump began to form in Harry's throat and he let out a small cough, hoping to clear it, but the stinging in his eyes had already started.

"You hate me! W-why would you care?" He hated the trembling in his voice, and he had to turn away, swallowing hard, before continuing more quietly, "Nobody's ever cared before."

A long moment passed without a response from Snape, then Harry heard a small sigh and felt the bed dip slightly as his father slowly sat down near his feet.

"I don't hate you... I realize that my hatred has been misplaced," Snape said softly, and there was a brief pause as he cleared his throat before he continued. "And I care, because, you are my son."

Harry didn't think he'd heard right at first, and couldn't help looking back at the man, unable to do anything more than stare at him in disbelief as those words reverberated in his mind, replaying like a broken record player. It was a simple phrase that Harry had always heard directed at someone else, but never was it said to him.

He didn't know why it meant so much to him, but it did.

And it was as if the walls of a dam had burst open, a rush of incomprehensible emotions spilling forth before Harry could stop them.

Harry's breath hitched as he slowly glanced up, his green eyes meeting his father's dark ones.

An unnoticed tear slid down his cheek.

"Really?"

The boy's voice was no more than a whisper, the short question filled with such vulnerability and uncertainly that it made Severus' chest tighten hearing it.

Severus could only give a small nod as he cautiously reached out and gently swiped away the lone tear sliding down the boy's cheek with his thumb. Harry closed his eyes for a moment and leaned into the touch.

That small, simple action sent an indescribable rush of protectiveness through Severus, and he had to swallow against the sudden tightness in his throat. From now on, Severus was determined to make sure that Harry was never hurt again, because it seems that all the significant people in the boy's life had failed him one way or another. It was hard to believe that just a few days ago, Severus had been so against the idea of the boy coming to stay with him, but now, he was certainly never going to let those Muggles anywhere near Harry ever again.

"Can you tell me where the scars came from?" Severus kept his voice soft, hoping to sound somewhat encouraging. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, so many details about the boy's home life that he must be unaware of...

Harry sniffed, hesitating for a long moment, and Severus didn't think he was going to answer until the boy drew in a deep breath. "Un-Uncle Vernon's belt... sometimes the whip," he said, a slight tremble to his voice. "Mostly because I didn't get my chores done fast enough or..." He trailed off and shuddered, his eyes slightly glazed as if he was remembering the unpleasant memories.

"What were the chores?" Severus asked after a quiet moment, attempting to keep his tone calm with the fury burning inside him.

"Cook meals, weed the garden, paint the shed, mostly just housework or garden work," Harry said flatly, fidgeting with the hem of his nightshirt.

Severus swallowed, feeling a pang of guilt as he realized that he had assigned Harry the same kind of chores. That work ethic he observed must have been hardwired into the boy. "What did they do if you didn't finish them?"

Harry kept his head down, his voice quiet as he said, "No food for that day and locked in my room... and if he's really angry, he'll use the belt and the whip."

"When did this all start?" Severus questioned further, repressing the urge to go find those despicable Muggles right now and make them feel everything they put his son through. But now was not the time to act on those feelings, though Severus planned to make a visit, looking forward to providing at least an afternoon's worth full of terror sometime in the near future. It was what those Muggles deserved, depriving his son of his basic needs and treating him like a bloody house elf...

"Ever since I can remember..." Harry murmured, and he released a sad sigh before continuing, his voice so soft Severus had to lean in closer to hear, "It was only because I deserved it. The last beating was because I ruined his dinner party."

Severus frowned, his heart clenching uncomfortably in his chest. It sounded as if his son truly believed it. His anger was now burning like acid within him and Severus had to modulate his voice, struggling not to let it show, "You did not deserve it, Harry. No one deserves any of that."

Harry raised his head back up and gazed at him in surprise, his glistening green eyes still wary and doubtful, not quite able to believe Severus' words. Well, Severus was determined to do whatever it takes to dispel that ridiculous notion out of the boy's head. No matter what Harry had done, absolutely nothing would warrant that kind of punishment.

Severus slowly reached out and placed a hand on Harry's thin shoulder, re-emphasizing his statement more firmly this time, "You did not deserve it. There is absolutely no reason to beat a child. What they did was abuse."

Harry gave a tiny nod, and Severus could see the boy mulling over his words. He hoped it was getting through to him, but Severus knew it would take some time for the words to completely sink in after everything Harry had been through.

They sat in silence for a few moments until Severus noticed that Harry was having difficulty keeping his eyes open, realizing that the boy must still be exhausted. After the difficult discussion they just had, Harry must be emotionally drained. It was no wonder, considering he was also still healing from his injuries.

"You need more rest," said Severus, removing the pillows from behind Harry and gently lowering him back down. The boy was already fast asleep as Severus tucked the covers around him.

"Sleep well, Harry," Severus whispered, and after hesitating for a moment, he reached down and lightly carded his fingers through Harry's dark hair.

Lingered beside the bed, Severus watched his son's steady breathing for a few more cycles, before he spelled the desk lamp off and retreated from the room, quietly shutting the door behind him on his way out. He decided to put up a ward that would alert him if there were any problems, then retired to his own bedroom and prepared for bed. Despite the revelations he discovered today weighing heavily on his mind, Severus managed to fall asleep quickly, his exhaustion from the long day dragging him under.

Harry woke up the next morning feeling inexplicably lighter, like a heaviness that had been weighing him down for so long had finally lifted, and he was able to breathe properly for the first time. He didn't quite know how that came to be, but it was a nice change. He hoped it lasted, but knowing his luck, it wouldn't.

Drawing the covers back, Harry slowly slid out of bed and stretched out, glad to no longer feel the usual soreness in his body when he did. His wounds seemed to have mostly healed, and it was probably the first day this summer where he wasn't feeling the usual aches and pains. It was quite refreshing. And without having to maintain the glamour anymore, Harry felt as if he did have more energy than usual. Maybe it was also due to the fact that he had a decent amount of rest yesterday as well.

After grabbing an acceptable shirt from the dresser, one that only had a small hole near the collar, and a faded pair of jeans, Harry went into the bathroom and decided to take a shower. As he went to take off the shirt he was wearing, Harry quickly realized that it definitely wasn't his. For one thing, it fit him perfectly, and the material was soft with no signs of wear and tear. Dudley's old castoffs were certainly never this nice. Judging by the finely embroidered 'S' on the small front pocket of the gray nightshirt, Harry had an idea of whose shirt this was, though the thought of Snape actually lending Harry one of his own shirts was bewildering to say the least. He carefully folded the shirt and set it down on the bathroom counter, making a mental note to return it to his father later.

With a quick glance at the mirror before getting into the shower, Harry saw that the salve Snape used seemed to have worked wonders on his back. Some of his older scars were still present, but at least he didn't have any more bruises or welts.

As he let the soothing warm water rain down on him, yesterday's events began replaying in his mind, especially the conversation he had with his father.

Did he really mean it? Did he really claim Harry as his son? And what about that part where he firmly told Harry that he didn't deserve to be treated like that by the Dursleys?

Never in a million years would Harry have thought Snape would say that... If anything, Harry thought the man would certainly agree with the Dursley's sentiments.

Part of him remained skeptical. Harry wanted to believe his father's words, but he just couldn't push away the uncertainty of it all. There had always been doubt lingering in the back of his mind that prevented him from fully believing anything, and he'd never learnt how to place his complete trust in an adult, choosing to handle problems on his own or with his closest friends.

But yesterday he managed to confide in someone about that long kept secret and it was a person he never thought he would ever tell his secrets to. He'd never even told his best friends, though he knew they must have suspected it already, they didn't know as much as Snape, his father, did now.

And it did seem like the man really cared yesterday...

But did he really care?

Harry shook his head, not knowing what to make of this.

What if his father took it back? What if Harry did something wrong, would Snape reclaim that statement and act as if it never came out of his mouth? It was definitely possible. Given that he had hated Harry for so long, Snape could certainly go back to his old ways. It wasn't as if Harry being his son meant anything to him before. What if he realized that Harry was just too much of a burden to deal with?

Harry sighed, deciding at that point to be cautious around Snape. It was better to be on guard anyway, so that he could be ready for it if it did happen.

After his quick shower, Harry got dressed and made his way down to breakfast. When he arrived, Snape was at the table, reading the Daily Prophet, practically hiding behind it as only his hands gripping the sides of the newspaper were visible. Kieran sat beside him, picking at his breakfast and glaring down at it.

Harry wondered what happened, sensing the tension in the room. It was never usually this tense until he walked in.

Once Snape noticed Harry's presence, he smoothly set the paper down.

"I didn't expect you to come down for breakfast," his father said, then gave Harry an assessing look over. "How are you feeling, Harry?"

Harry blinked, truly not expecting that question. "Er, I'm fine sir," he answered after a short moment. "It's the first day in the summer that I'm not..." Harry trailed off, having already said too much. He looked away, trying to stop the flush that was creeping its way up into his cheeks. Apparently, Snape seemed to know what Harry was about to say, for the hard look that was previously in his dark eyes softened a little. Kieran regarded Harry with narrowed eyes and his glare that was previously aimed at his breakfast was now being pointed his way.

Harry ignored him and went to take a seat at his usual spot. He'd had enough of trying to figure out what Kieran's problem was. Look where that got him last time.

As soon as he sat down, a bowl of porridge with fruit on top and a goblet of pumpkin juice appeared in front of him, and Harry wondered why his breakfast seemed to be different from Snape and Kieran's. Not that he minded of course, Harry had learned not to be a picky eater a long time ago. He gave a questioning look at his father, but the man had already refocused his attention back on the paper.

Harry swirled his spoon in the porridge then took a bite, finding the touch of sweetness from the fresh fruit rather pleasant. He didn't feel like he had his appetite back yet, but somehow, Harry found that he could finish the entire bowl.

Severus discreetly watched Harry over the top of the Daily Prophet as the boy ate his breakfast. This morning, he'd told the house elves to mix a nutrients potion into the porridge, and he was inwardly pleased to see Harry enjoying it. After having realized how little the boy had eaten the first two days here, Severus also added something that would help improve Harry's appetite, hoping the boy would begin to eat more than his meager portions and eventually bring him to a more healthy weight.

His attention was drawn then to Kieran when he saw the boy stabbing his eggs with his fork, a bit too forcefully before bringing it to his mouth. Today was going to be a long day, Severus thought with an inward groan as he took a sip of his coffee. He was overseeing the punishments for that destructive fight in the library, and if yesterday was any indication, Severus knew it was going to be difficult getting Kieran to cooperate. He gave a silent sigh; there so were many other ways that he would much rather spend his day.

A repeated tapping on the window pulled Severus out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see a brown tawny owl pecking at the glass. As soon as Severus opened the window, it immediately flew towards Harry and landed in front of him, causing the boy to flinch slightly as the owl fluttered to a stop, nearly knocking over his goblet of pumpkin juice. The owl hooted and raised its right leg, signaling for Harry to take the large square envelope tied to it.

Must be his O.W.L results, thought Severus, as Harry began untying it with fumbling fingers. Once the letter was detached, the owl flew off out the window again.

Severus watched Harry slit the envelope open slowly, finding himself wondering how the boy performed on his exams. He seemed to be nervous by the way his fingers were playing with the corners of the parchment, but the boy's eyes skimmed over the letter so quickly that Severus had a hard time deciphering any emotion in them. Though Severus did catch a hint of something flickering in those green eyes before Harry glanced up, realizing he had an audience when he noticed that both Severus and Kieran were watching him. He quickly folded the parchment back into the envelope, then slipped it into his pocket and continued his breakfast, keeping his head down the rest of the time.

"Today, both of you will serve your punishment for the fight in the library," Severus announced once he saw that Harry had finished his breakfast.

At the word punishment, Severus could see Harry's stance become rigid, as if bracing himself for the worst. He turned his attention to Kieran who still had the same attitude as yesterday, his defiance still present. Severus sent him a glare that conveyed he had no patience to spend on arguing today. He rose to his feet, "Both of you follow me."

Severus led them to the library where he had ordered the house elves to not bother cleaning up, leaving the room in the same state of disarray, exactly the way it was after the fight. With a sharp flick of his wand, a broom appeared beside each boy. They were going to need them to sweep up the obliterated pieces of parchment littering the floor since they wouldn't be allowed to use magic.

"I do not condone fighting and as you two caused this mess, I expect the library to be cleaned to my satisfaction," Severus said, giving them both a stern look. He pointed at a large mound of fallen books in a corner next to an overturned table and chair. "I suggest you start with those books over there."

And since Severus was certainly not about to leave the boys alone in here together, he conjured a chair and settled into it with a potions journal. It was just for looks, however, as his sole attention was going to be on watching the boys.

Harry immediately began picking up the books and placing them back on the shelves. Kieran, however, stood there unmoving with his arms crossed, seeming to consider how far he could push Severus' patience. After a few moments, he huffed, then started moving slowly toward the pile of books.

But barely five minutes into the punishment, Kieran started the inevitable complaining.

"This is going to take forever!" he groaned, turning toward Severus and gesturing to a pile of books and parchment on the floor. "Why don't you just tell the house elves to do it?"

"You contributed to the mess, therefore it is your responsibility to help clean it," Severus said, pointing a withering glare in Kieran's direction.

Kieran rolled his eyes. "I don't even know why I have to do this, it wasn't my fault," he muttered, haphazardly shoving another book back onto the shelf.

Severus was tempted to spell a silencing charm on the boy and be done with it, his patience running thin. "I do not want to hear another word out of you, young man."

Kieran didn't respond, turning his back to him, though he continued mumbling under his breath, just loud enough for Severus to hear a few words, "Like servant's work... Ridiculous... All Potter's fault."

"If you do not cease this childish behavior, I will not hesitate to cast a silencing charm on you," Severus threatened, raising his wand. When Kieran opened his mouth to protest yet again, he added, "I will make it last the entire day."

Kieran gave a frustrated growl and turned back to the pile of books. Severus heard him continue to mumble something indistinctly and then moved to stand next to Harry. He could make out whispering, but could only hear bits and pieces of the conversation. It soon became clear that Harry was attempting to ignore Kieran as he continued to diligently place the books back onto the shelves and had even started sweeping the floor with the broom, his posture stiff and his hands clenching the broom handle a bit too tightly.

Severus sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming.

This was going to be a long day, and it has barely even begun.

Harry picked up the scattered books from the floor and set them on the shelves, all the while trying to block out Kieran's constant complaining. He was reminded of the way Dudley acted whenever Aunt Petunia tried to convince him to clean his room, which always concluded with Aunt Petunia giving in to Dudley's temper tantrums and doing it for him anyway. Because of that, Harry was rather glad that Snape was still the strict disciplinarian that he'd known at Hogwarts. Though Harry had been a bit anxious when his father mentioned a punishment, and for a while, he was worried that it would be something similar to Uncle Vernon's until Snape had led them into the trashed library and told them to clean it.

From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Kieran edging towards him.

"What did you do to my Dad?" Kieran whispered so that only Harry could hear. "You must have done something to him. He seems... different." His accusing tone was hard to miss.

"I didn't do anything," Harry replied simply, placing a stack of books neatly back on the shelf.

Kieran appeared unconvinced, eying him suspiciously.

"This is all your fault, Potter. You're the one who caused this bloody mess in the first place," he growled, snatching up a few more books and shoving them roughly onto the shelf.

"It wouldn't have even happened if someone didn't insult my mum first," Harry retorted, turning his back to Kieran as he gathered up more books.

Kieran made a sound of disagreement. "It's the truth, anyway."

Harry bit down on his tongue, forcing himself not to respond to that, and continued cleaning. He figured it was best to ignore him; there wasn't any point in letting Kieran get to him again. He just needed to complete his punishment as soon as possible and get away from Kieran, not wanting to be in his company any longer than was necessary.

When Harry finished with the books, he grabbed the broom to start sweeping the pieces of torn up parchment all over the floor. Kieran did the same, trying to appear as if he was helping, but Harry thought he looked as if he'd never used a broom before in his life.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you like doing this type of servant's work," Kieran said, creating more of a mess than he was cleaning, constantly sweeping into Harry's neat piles. "I watched you work in the garden like a bloody house elf, I couldn't tell the difference."

When Harry didn't respond, Kieran continued to whisper, "Even dressed like one. Where did you get those clothes anyway?" He wrinkled his nose, disdainfully looking Harry up and down. "Might as well go live with them, you'll fit right in."

Harry could see the smirk forming on his face and wanted to hex it off. He turned away, heading for another corner littered with parchment, his grip on the broom handle a little more firm than necessary.

Kieran went on, making comments over anything and everything, and Harry had reached his limits of patience when Kieran, once again, swished his broom through his neat piles.

"Are you done yet?" Harry snapped, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. He felt eyes now watching the back of his head and knew that Snape was watching the exchange closely. Harry drew in a deep breath, forcing the anger down, then continued sweeping, now using more effort than was necessary. He would not lose his temper this time, especially with Snape in the room.

"More cleaning, less talking," his father said silkily from behind them. "Kieran, there is a bit of parchment that needs to be swept over there."

Harry looked over his shoulder and saw Snape pointing at the other corner of the library.

Kieran sauntered over, taking as much time as possible to reach it. Harry was more than glad that Snape moved him, now he could focus on getting this done.

Honestly, what was Kieran's problem?

Harry gave a frustrated sigh, not wanting to think more on it. He didn't think he would ever meet anyone more annoying. Well, besides Dudley and Malfoy. He could already imagine Kieran and Malfoy becoming best friends.

Once the library was back in order, Snape nodded his approval and waved his wand to vanish the swept up piles of parchment.

By this time, it was just about time for lunch.

"Harry, I had noticed that you have finished your school assignments," Snape said, once they'd settled down at the table. "I would like to look over them after lunch."

"Yes, sir," Harry said as the food appeared on the table. He was surprised that Snape would be willing to look at his work. Nobody else had been willing to before, except Hermione, but that was different. Well, Harry just hoped his assignments were done well enough to not be torn to shreds with scathing remarks when he got them back. But then again, this was still Snape after all.

After Harry handed him his finished assignments, Severus told the boy that he was free to do as he pleased, also giving him permission to take books from the library for leisurely reading if he wanted to. Meanwhile, Severus took Kieran down to the potions lab for the second part of his punishment. He set the boy to work on scrubbing a stack of stained cauldrons and to mop the floor afterwards.

Kieran had begun complaining about how it would get his clothes dirty, but grudgingly started working after Severus gave him a scathing glare, not bending in the slightest. His tolerance was fairly nonexistent now. Severus hoped this punishment would deter Kieran from using that sort of language again. And the boy would do well to experience some physical labor, knowing he wasn't used to doing this kind of work.

Now when Severus thought about it, that was an obvious difference between Harry and Kieran. It had been evident when they were cleaning the library. Severus had noticed how efficiently Harry had worked then, and even the few days prior. It would most likely take Kieran a couple hours to complete what Harry could in an hour. If someone would have told him that about the boy a week ago, Severus would have laughed in their face, brushing it off as entirely implausible. But after what Severus discovered yesterday, none of this came as a such a surprise anymore, and he wasn't very pleased with how that came to be.

While Kieran was scrubbing the cauldrons, Severus had settled himself into a chair, a quill poised in his hand as he began looking over Harry's essays. But he soon found himself simply staring at the parchments, his jaw nearly dropping to the floor. He had been surprised yesterday to see that Harry had already finished his assignments, but now he was even more shocked at the quality of them. Especially his potions essay. Severus had been prepared to cover the parchment with his customary red ink, ready to fill the margins with criticisms considering the boy's essays have always been rather dismal before. However, a few minutes into reading these, Severus had to admit that they were very well done. It puzzled him because the boy had never excelled in his class, yet there wasn't a single mistake to be found.

Harry had the right properties listed and even explained in the detail how the potion functioned. He even included a better way to make the potion more potent. The essays for his other classes were done nicely as well. There was no doubt that the boy had put in the time and effort into these assignments. Now there was clear evidence that Harry was more capable than what he had previously showed in class. The question that came to Severus' mind was why didn't the boy display this potential and hand in assignments of this quality before?

"Hey, Dad?" Kieran said, disrupting Severus' thoughts. "Can we go to Diagon Alley tomorrow? I finally got my letter, and I need to get a few more things."

"I suppose we could spare some time tomorrow," Severus said absently, his attention still on the essays. "I believe Harry needs to get his supplies as well," he commented, missing the dark look on Kieran's face when he mentioned Harry's name.

"What's going on with you and Potter?"

Severus looked up to see that Kieran had stopped his scrubbing.

"That is none of your concern, Kieran," said Severus.

Kieran crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "There must be something going on because you're acting different."

"Be that as it may, it is between Harry and myself," Severus said resolutely, rolling up the essay he'd just finished reading and moving onto the next.

"It's as if you actually like him now," Kieran muttered, bitterness coloring his tone, as he set his glare on the cauldron he'd been scrubbing.

So that's what this was about. He should have known this was going to happen.

Severus contemplated his words carefully before speaking. "I had misguided assumptions about him," he said simply, not wanting to tell Kieran too much. It wasn't his business to know.

"Like what assumptions?" asked Kieran.

"There are certain circumstances that I became aware of."

Kieran furrowed his brows in confusion before a scowl formed on his face. "Oh, so he convinced you to side with him now?"

"Kieran, I suggest you cease this insufferable attitude," Severus said, glowering at the boy.

It didn't seem as if Kieran had heard him as the boy scoffed and continued, "What did he tell you? Some sob story about how tough his life is being the Chosen One?"

"Enough. This conversation is over," Severus said coldly. "Get back to work."

Kieran huffed and went back to scrubbing, this time putting in more effort, as if he was channeling all his anger into getting the stubborn stains off. Severus should have expected this reaction from Kieran. Of course, the boy would think of Harry as a threat, considering he never had to share anything with anyone before.

Severus gave a long sigh and focused back on the essays, planning to think more on the situation later.

That night Harry was perched on the window seat in his room, staring out at Prince Manor's vast back garden. He tucked his knees to his chest, his arms wrapped loosely around his legs as he rested his chin on the tops of his knees. The stars were glittering brightly against the clear night sky above and the moonlight cast a dim glow into his room. It was quiet nights like these when Harry could reflect on his life and just think.

He had just finished looking over a defense book that he borrowed from the library. Snape had told him he was free to do what he wanted today, but not without a warning to stay out of trouble. His father didn't explain why he didn't have any chores today and Harry didn't ask. He gladly accepted the free day and decided to spend the time brushing up on his defense and looking up useful spells.

His heart had sank when he received his O.W.L results today. With an Exceeds Expectation on his potions O.W.L, Harry knew his chances at becoming an Auror were over. He needed an Outstanding to move onto N.E.W.T. level, and Harry knew it would be pointless to try to convince Snape to admit him into his class. Especially considering Harry had never done well in his potions classes to begin with, and Snape refused to accept anything less than the best.

Now Harry would have to think about what he wanted to do after Hogwarts if he couldn't be an Auror. He'd never really put much thought into a career, with the threat of Voldemort constantly looming over his head ever since he'd found out about this world. He didn't know what the future had in store for him, all he knew was that he better be prepared to face it when it came.

A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts then.

"Come in," Harry called as he uncurled himself and turned towards the door.

Snape strode in holding Harry's rolled up assignments.

He must have come to tell him how bad his essays were, Harry thought, bracing himself.

"These are very well done, Harry," said Snape, setting the essays neatly on the desk.

Harry blinked, staring at him in shock, unable to respond, wondering if he had actually heard correctly.

"Thank you, sir," Harry murmured quietly when he'd found his voice again. An unfamiliar warmth filled his chest then, a strange yet pleasant feeling that he had never experienced before.

His essays must have been good if the praise was coming from Snape. He knew how difficult the man was to please.

Harry couldn't help giving a shy smile, not at all used to the praise.

The boy must not have received much praises in his life, Severus realized, if he ever received any at all for that matter.

He noticed the way Harry's green eyes lit up and the little smile the boy gave at his words. Just like Lily, Severus thought, feeling a brief pang in his chest. Her emerald eyes had lit up in a similar manner, along with that same soft smile whenever she received a compliment...

After a moment, Severus softly cleared his throat, then decided to ask a question he'd been wondering about all day.

"Why have you been handing in such abysmal work, when I now know for a fact you are capable of producing better?" Severus asked as he pulled out the desk chair and took a seat, facing Harry.

Harry stiffened, averting his eyes toward the window. There was a long stretch of silence, and just when Severus thought Harry wasn't going to answer, the boy gave a heavy sigh, then began speaking in a low voice.

"When I was about six or seven, I got my report card, and stupidly thought they would be proud of me. Instead, I just got a beating and locked in my cupboard with no food because I had done better than their son," Harry said, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. "Plus my trunk gets chained up so I can't really complete my summer assignments anyway."

"Those Muggles were the reason that you do not do your best?" Severus asked, struggling not to snarl. He should have suspected it had something to do with them. What else were they responsible for that he didn't know about yet?

And did the boy say he had been locked in his cupboard?

Severus' eyebrows furrowed, his tone coming out a bit harsher than he'd intended when he asked, "What did you mean, your cupboard?"

Harry flinched, looking alarmed at hearing the anger in his voice, and Severus drew in a steadying breath, forcing his emotions behind his shields and attempting to soften his features.

"It was my room before I went to Hogwarts," Harry said, so quietly that Severus had to strain to hear.

"Damn Muggles," Severus muttered under his breath. Those monsters kept a child in a cupboard as his bedroom? If they thought they could get away with treating his son like this, they had another thing coming. A visit was definitely long overdue.

"That is no way to treat a child," Severus said firmly.

Harry gave a small shrug. "It's not a big deal. They did give me Dudley's second bedroom later," he muttered, picking at a loose thread on his trousers. "At least they took me in. They didn't have to. I was sort of forced onto them."

"Don't make excuses for them, Harry," Severus said, trying his best to keep his voice even. "Yes, they took you in, but they also should have treated you like their own."

Harry shook his head, looking doubtful. "They could never treat me like Dudley. They hate anything to do with magic and I was nothing more than a freak to them."

"And that is why they are despicable people," said Severus, remembering the time when Petunia had called Lily that same wretched word just before she was about to leave for her first year at Hogwarts. Apparently, Petunia was still the same spiteful person as she was before.

"What happened when you displayed a bit of accidental magic?" Severus asked, though he likely already knew the answer to that.

"It'd be worse than usual," Harry replied flatly, looking away. "They absolutely hated whenever that happened."

Severus just barely suppressed a scowl, very tempted to go curse them then and there. Punishing his son because of something he couldn't control?

They sat in silence for several moments, both of them seeming lost in their own thoughts until Severus spoke again.

"We will be taking a trip to Diagon Alley tomorrow for you and Kieran to shop for school supplies," said Severus, standing and pushing the chair back underneath the desk. He glanced at the clock. "It's getting late, I suggest you turn in for the night."

Harry nodded, sliding off the alcove.

"Oh, I almost forgot—"

The boy hurried into the bathroom and returned a second later with the shirt that Severus had shrunk down for him yesterday.

"Here's your shirt back, sir," Harry said, holding it out for Severus to take.

Severus shook his head. "No, it is yours now. I had shrunk it down to fit you."

"Really?" Harry said, sounding surprised. "Thank you, sir."

Severus nodded, feeling a bit unsettled at the gratitude the boy was displaying for something as simple as a nightshirt.

"Goodnight, Harry," Severus said as he made to leave the room, but just before he reached the doorway, he paused and turned to face Harry again. "Now that I know what you are capable of, I expect all of your assignments to be up to that standard from now on."

That tiny smile reappeared on Harry's face again.

"Yes, sir," he replied. "Goodnight."

As he headed down for breakfast the next morning, Harry found himself in a rather good mood, which was a pleasant surprise considering it had been quite a while since he'd felt anything close to being happy. He couldn't help giving a faint smile as he remembered the unexpected praise he'd received from his father last night. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one where he assumed most kids his age must already be used to from their parents, but Harry had never had anyone to please before, and he certainly didn't think he would ever get the chance to. It further motivated him to put more effort into his work going forward.

Just as Harry was about to set foot into the dining room, he froze, hovering a bit awkwardly in the doorway.

There was someone already in his usual seat.

"Harry," Snape said from the head of the table. "Come sit down."

The person— a women, with a smooth arrogant face, and long dark brown hair flowing neatly down her back— turned her attention towards him, her sharp blue eyes narrowing as they swept over him, regarding Harry coldly. This must be Kieran's mother, Harry supposed, noticing a resemblance between the two.

For a moment, Harry hesitated, contemplating which seat he should take, before he decided to sit next to Kieran. He definitely didn't want to sit next to her, and would have preferred to sit at the other end of the table away from the both of them.

"This is Clarice, Kieran's mother," Snape said, nodding his head at the woman. "She will be joining us on our trip to Diagon Alley."

"Hullo," Harry murmured.

Clarice sat up straighter, gazing down her nose at him.

"So, you are the great Harry Potter," she said, her sarcastic tone hard to miss. Harry didn't like the look she was giving him, staring at him as if there was something foul smelling under her nose. Even though Clarice didn't openly glare at him, like Kieran had, Harry could still sense the same underlying contempt from her.

He didn't really know how to respond to that, and thankfully, he didn't have to, as at that moment, their breakfast appeared on the table in front of them. Everyone began tucking into their breakfast, and Harry was glad there was now something to distract him from this uncomfortable situation.

Harry had a bowl of porridge again and was swirling his spoon in it, mixing all the fruit in, when Kieran began talking enthusiastically to his parents. Harry listened as Kieran recounted his days here to his mother, who would often nod her approval or ask little questions to keep the conversation moving. There was a noticeable warmth to Clarice's eyes as she spoke with Kieran, which were a drastic difference to when they had landed on Harry a few minutes before, and Harry didn't even attempt to wonder why that was, seeing as he was no where near figuring out Kieran. Though as every second passed he was liking Kieran's mother just as much as he was liking Kieran. There was the same attitude towards Harry that both mother and son seemed to share.

Occasionally, Kieran would include Snape in their conversation, directing it his way when relaying the many times they went flying together. Though his father didn't contribute much to the retelling, only offering a stiff nod here and there.

It brought about a pang to his chest when Harry listened to Kieran describe how much fun he had flying with his father.

Must be great to have a father that would do that with you, Harry thought bitterly. He doesn't know how lucky he is.

As the conversation continued, Harry didn't have any desire to stay here and listen. He looked toward Snape, and asked quietly, "May I please be excused, sir?"

His father glanced at the remnants of Harry's half eaten breakfast. "No, you may not. We will be leaving for Diagon Alley soon, and you have not finished all of your breakfast."

Harry gave an imperceptible sigh before focusing back on his porridge, the pleasant mood he'd woken up with had now completely evaporated into thin air. Shifting slightly in his seat, he stared resolutely down at his bowl and attempted to take a couple more spoonfuls, even though his appetite was long gone now.

Once breakfast was finally finished, they all gathered in Snape's study.

"Harry, you and I will be using Polyjuice potion."

His father uncorked two vials of a thick potion from his voluminous robes, which had been transfigured from its usual black to a dark green.

"We don't want you to be seen wandering around, and I do not wish to chance upon any former acquaintances. Even though it appears your glamour has worn off and your appearance has changed somewhat, that scar of yours is still recognizable," Snape said, handing a vial to Harry.

Harry took it warily, remembering when he, Ron, and Hermione had used it in their second year and recalling its disgusting flavor.

"It should last the entire time we will spend in Diagon Alley," Snape said, before he downed his vial.

Harry soon followed, tipping his vial back. He grimaced slightly at the repulsive taste, and not a moment later, Harry could feel his insides writhing and shifting, accompanied by a slight burning that thankfully didn't last very long. His skin was bubbling, and Harry watched his hands, expecting them to lengthen and his body to grow like before when he'd turned into Goyle. He was a bit surprised when not much really happened, and Harry supposed he must be a similar in size to the person he was changing into. He was certainly still the same height as before.

After the transformation completed, Harry looked up and saw that his father's appearance had changed drastically. Snape's long black hair was replaced by a light brown shorter cut that showed a little of his ears, his usually pallor face took on a more tanned tone and became less thin. His eyes were no longer the bottomless black, instead, they were a much warmer hazel. Still, it was rather startling seeing this complete stranger in front of him, but knowing it was Snape lurking underneath it all.

"Sir, could I see what I look like?" Harry asked, now curious about his own appearance.

"Of course."

His father waved his wand, conjuring a small round mirror, and handed it over. At first glance, Harry found that he rather liked his appearance, and there wasn't any doubt that they looked like father and son. His eyes and hair resembled his father's now, and Harry ran a hand through the short chestnut hair, causing it to stick up in all directions before smoothing it down. He was immensely glad to not see his usual lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

Snape then pulled out a familiar stick of wood that Harry immediately realized was his holly wand. His father held it out for him to take, and said, "Only use it if absolutely necessary."

Harry nodded, took his wand, and slipped it securely into his robe pocket.

"This seems a bit excessive for one trip, don't you think, Severus?" Clarice said, standing beside the fireplace with Kieran, her arms folded and a bored expression on her face. "Why bother even having him come along with us?"

"Harry needs to purchase school supplies as well, and these precautions are necessary," said Snape.

When his father didn't receive any further response, he turned toward Kieran, who had been surprisingly quiet so far.

"I will not tolerate any insolent behavior on this trip." Snape set his stern gaze on Kieran, also turning it on Harry for a split second. "There will also be absolutely no fighting."

"Of course, Dad," Kieran said, a bit too easily.

Snape gave Kieran a suspicious look before he grabbed the small box of Floo powder from the mantel.

They took their turns stepping into the green flames, Harry going in after Kieran. Once he made it to the Leaky Cauldron, Harry stumbled his way out of the grate and would have fallen flat on his face if it wasn't for Snape's steadying hand on his shoulder after his father had gracefully stepped out behind him. He brushed the soot from his robes, ignoring the smirk on Kieran's face as he did. Harry still didn't prefer this method of traveling, seeing as he hadn't yet figured out how to step out without nearly falling over every time.

Snape led the way, with everyone following close behind. When they reached the brick wall, he tapped the correct bricks in quick succession with his wand, causing them to begin shifting to form the entryway into Diagon Alley.

Since Potage's Cauldron Shop was the closest to the Leaky Cauldron, it was the first stop. Snape held the door open and motioned with his head for them to go in. Kieran and his mother went in first.

"Er, sir, shouldn't we go to Gringotts first?" Harry asked as he walked up to his father.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Why would we need to go there?"

Harry blinked, thinking the answer was rather obvious. How was he going to buy anything if he didn't have any money?

"Well, I need money if I'm going to buy any—"

His father waved him off. "You need not worry about that, I'm paying for your school supplies today."

Harry stared at him, wondering if it was still Snape under there, before he said, "You really don't have to sir. I can pay, I just need to make a stop at Gringotts."

Snape shook his head and gave Harry a little push forward into the shop.

"I am well aware, however, seeing as I am your parent, I will be the one paying," his father said in a tone that indicated no more discussion on the matter. Harry was tempted to protest further, but bit his lip and stopped himself from doing so.

Knowing that he wouldn't be taking Potions class this term anyway, Harry simply stood back and watched as Kieran browsed through the selection of cauldrons with his mother and Snape.

"What do you think I should get Dad?" Harry heard Kieran ask as he took down a shiny gold cauldron.

"You have no need for a gold cauldron, those are for more advanced brewing," Snape told him.

"But you could teach me more advanced potions, and I can use this for them," Kieran said, trying to give him a convincing look.

Snape folded his arms over his chest. "There are cheaper cauldrons that are far more useful—"

"This one is much more useful than those ugly old cauldrons over there," Kieran said, indicating where Harry was pretending to be looking at a pewter cauldron. When it appeared that Snape wasn't going to budge, Kieran looked to his mother. "Mum, can I get this cauldron?"

Harry moved away before he could hear her answer, already suspecting what it was going to be anyway. He busied himself by checking out all the different stirrers while he waited for them to finish.

"You should select a new cauldron for next year as well."

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin, just barely able to stop himself from flinching this time at his father's sudden presence behind him. How did the man always manage to sneak up on him like that?

He sighed, then spun around to face Snape.

"I don't think I'll be taking potions anymore, sir. My O.W.L. mark wasn't good enough," Harry said softly, looking away and fiddling with a loose thread on his robe sleeve.

There was a slight pause before his father said, "Well, considering we still have a few weeks before term begins, if you are able to prove that you are also more proficient in brewing than what you have displayed in class, as you have already shown in your written work, I am willing to make an exception."

Snape took down one of those No-Spill ladles Harry had been looking at, and was now inspecting it.

"Really?" Harry asked, unable to believe that Snape would even offer something like that.

Since when had Snape ever made exceptions for anyone?

Maybe for his Slytherins, but even then, he seemed to always be a strict and demanding authoritarian. Snape only wanted the best students, and he had specifically stated at the beginning of last year that he didn't allow any students that received lower than an Outstanding to be admitted into his N.E.W.T. class.

His father set the ladle down and simply nodded. "Now, why don't you choose a new cauldron."

"Dad, look at this!" Kieran called from the other end of the shop. Harry saw his father give him a withering glare, which looked strange on that unfamiliar face.

"Kieran, there is no need to shout," Snape said sternly. "If you need something, you come to me."

"Well, it's not exactly something I can bring to you," Kieran retorted, unaffected by his father's reprimand, and gestured for Snape to come over.

After picking out a new standard brass cauldron with the suggestions from his father, Harry had waited patiently while Kieran finished picking out his own supplies. Then Snape shrunk all their purchases down so they could be slipped into their robe pockets, and soon they were all once again walking down the long, winding cobblestone path lined with magical shops.

The Apothecary was the next stop. Looking around the foul smelling store, Harry knew he had to replenish some of his ingredients if he was going to continue taking potions next year, though he wasn't sure of all that he needed. He had picked up a basket and was looking around when Snape suddenly appeared next to him.

"I suggest you refill your supplies with these ingredients," his father said, indicating which ones. Then he took the basket and began masterfully collecting the best quality ingredients that Harry needed.

Harry silently watched him, quite amazed at the efficient way his father selected the ingredients, and surprised that Snape was here helping him now. Shouldn't he be helping Kieran? It wasn't the first time that Harry had to shop for ingredients by himself as he remembered doing so in the summer before his third year. Nobody had ever been there to help him before, but he figured this was something that parents did for their kids all the time. He just never thought he would ever get the opportunity to experience that.

But still, he couldn't help asking, "Sir, why are you over here helping me?" Harry glanced around. "I mean— shouldn't you be helping Kieran pick out his ingredients?"

Snape paused in his examining of a rather nasty looking jar of Flobberworm mucus, and turned to face him with a strange look on his face. "Because his mother is a rather competent brewer herself," he said, setting the jar down. "He has sufficient help."

"Oh," was all Harry could think of to say, as he spotted Kieran with his mother, clutching a small basket already brimming with ingredients.

It took a while longer for Kieran to finish gathering his ingredients, but soon they were all back in the streets under the hot sun.

Harry ended up walking a few steps behind the three as Kieran kept himself close to his father's side while he happily chatted to his parents, and Clarice was on the other side of Snape, her arm snaked around his.

Maybe they fancy each other, Harry thought as he watched them. They certainly looked like a typical family of three, and Harry could see Kieran reveling in all the attention provided by both his parents. An unfamiliar feeling rose in Harry's chest then, and he had to look away.

Giving his head a shake to rid his mind of unwelcome thoughts, Harry slowed his pace and attempted to make it appear as if he was out shopping by himself. Wanting to distract himself, he glanced around at the many items on display in the little shop windows as he walked pass them. And in the time that he was preoccupied with his surroundings, Snape had somehow ended up beside him.

He probably noticed I was going too slow for them, Harry thought when Snape put a hand on his shoulder and steered him forward until they were a bit closer to Kieran and Clarice. But then Harry felt his father give him a slight squeeze, and the thin hand didn't leave its place on his shoulder.

"Hey Dad! Mum said I could get an owl as a familiar," Kieran said excitedly, and stopped walking until his father was right beside him again, pushing Harry back behind them again.

Snape nodded, slowing his strides so that he was walking beside Harry, which, of course, made Kieran slow down as well and stop altogether until his father was next to him again. It went on for several more moments, until Snape's patience seemed to reached its limits.

"Enough. If you continue with this irritating behavior, at this rate we will never finish. You are certainly capable of walking and talking at the same time," his father snapped, giving Kieran a firm forward push. "Unless you wish to scrub more cauldrons when we return home—"

"Don't you think that's a bit harsh Severus?" Clarice said, shooting a short glare at Harry before looking at Snape. "He just wants to walk beside his father."

"Walk on my other side then," Snape said brusquely.

Kieran didn't seem outwardly affected by his father's irritability, though he glowered briefly at Harry from behind Snape's back, before carrying on with their previous conversation.

"Which kind of owl do you think I should get, Dad?"

"We will have to wait and see what they have first," his father said, and gave an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Maybe an eagle owl or a tawny..."

Harry zoned out as Kieran continued with his constant chattering until they reached the next shop.

As he was walking into Madam Malkin's, Harry accidentally bumped into a person that was just leaving.

"Sorry," Harry quickly muttered, then he noticed the white-blonde hair and pointed, pale face of the person he just ran into. He nearly panicked, but then he remembered that he wasn't himself at the moment, and Malfoy wouldn't recognize him anyway.

"Watch where you're going next time," Malfoy sneered, sauntering past him. A woman that Harry figured was his mother, with similar pompous features and a pallor that reminded Harry of her sister, gave him a haughty once over as she walked past him. A flash of anger rushed through him, and Harry had to stop himself from glaring.

"Welcome to Madam Malkin's," a short hunched over woman greeted warmly once they'd entered the shop. "What can I do for you today?"

"My son needs school robes for Hogwarts," Clarice said, resting a hand on Kieran's shoulder.

"Of course, right this way."

Kieran opened his mouth and was about to say something to Snape, but didn't get the chance as he was pulled away.

"Harry, follow me," his father said, taking his arm and directing him to the other corner of the shop.

Harry was led to the part of the store that sold casual style clothing. He'd never really been to this part before as his other shopping trips here were only for his school robes.

"What are we doing over here, sir?" Harry asked, glancing around at the many racks of clothing dispersed throughout the shop.

An assistant came over before his father could answer.

"Do you two gentlemen need any help?" she asked.

"Yes, my son needs a new wardrobe," Snape said, gesturing at Harry. "Shirts, trousers, pajamas, and undergarments. He needs several of each item."

"Oh, right away sir," the assistant smiled. "Come on dear, let's get you measured."

Harry was pulled away before he could protest. He stood in front of a mirror as a magic tape measure started wrapping around him with a quill that began jotting down the measurements.

"Sir, I really don't need—" Harry began, but was cut off by Snape.

"I have seen your so called clothes. They are no more than rags that are better fit for a baby whale rather than a scrawny teenage boy," his father said, not bothering to hide his contempt.

At Harry's flushed look, Snape's polyjuiced features softened slightly and he gave a small sigh. "It is quite obvious that your abominable relatives disregarded your basic needs," he said. "Let me provide you with something they didn't."

Harry just gave a slight nod, not really knowing what to say to that, and hardly able to believe any of it. He had seen Mrs. Weasley buy new robes for Ron when he grew out of them, and Aunt Petunia had bought Dudley new clothes all the time, but Harry would have never imagined Snape, his father, willingly buy new clothes for him, never mind a entire new wardrobe at that. His father had also paid for all of his school supplies so far and the trip wasn't even over yet. They still had a few more stops to make.

The lady finished measuring, then waved her wand, summoning many different items of clothing, each of them folding and stacking themselves on the counter. Everything was of high quality as well, and Harry shifted uncomfortably when he thought of how much this was going to cost. This was more than enough clothes to probably last him a lifetime.

"Er— sir I— that's plenty!" Harry sputtered, staring at all the clothes as they finished stacking themselves. "I don't need that many."

His father ignored him, turned to the assistant, and said, "We will take all of it."

"Splendid," the lady said, smiling. "All these should fit, and if you grow out of them, a simple sizing charm should do the trick."

"But sir—" Harry tried again, but instantly snapped his mouth shut when Snape sent him a mild glare.

Harry watched in mute disbelief while the assistant started ringing and packing everything up. When the assistant stated the staggering price, Harry's jaw almost dropped to the floor as he saw Snape easily hand her the money. That was an obscene amount of money that Snape had just spent on clothing, for him.

His father grabbed the packages and shrunk them, then slipped them in his robe pockets.

"I can pay you back sir," Harry said hastily.

Snape gave an exasperated sigh. "Harry, I don't need to be repaid. I was simply doing one of my jobs as a parent."

He started heading back towards the front of the stop.

Harry followed close behind. "Still, you shouldn't have."

"I believe your birthday was recently, was it not?" his father asked, looking over his shoulder at Harry.

"Er, yeah it was," Harry said, furrowing his brows. "Why?"

"Consider this a belated birthday present then."

Still, Harry thought it was too much even for a birthday present. He had never received this much for his birthday— for all of his birthdays combined for that matter. Harry was just about to say as much, but didn't get the chance to finish.

"That was expensive though. You didn't have to—"

"Yes, I didn't have to," his father interjected, abruptly pausing and turning to face Harry, "I wanted to."

There was something in his father's current hazel eyes that Harry couldn't place, and that warm feeling from before seemed to rush through him again.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said sincerely, unable to help the small smile that appeared on his face.

They were only half way through their shopping trip, and Severus was eagerly looking forward to heading home already. Having two sons to look after who were so different was driving him almost to insanity. Just this once, he was glad that Clarice had come along with them. Otherwise, Severus would have been constantly pulled in two different directions.

However, Severus could have done without all the subtle advances Clarice was making. Several times, Severus had to shake his arm out of her grasp when he grew uncomfortable with the closeness.

Now they were making a quick stop at the Quidditch store because Kieran wanted to take a look at the new broomsticks they had on display. Severus half expected Harry to proclaim that he already had a high end broomstick and to have one over Kieran, but the boy remained silent. After the behavior he had seen of Harry today, he shouldn't have expected anything different. This was the Quidditch store, and Severus knew for a fact that Harry had a passion for flying, but instead, said boy was just looking over the other things in the store with mild interest. Any other Quidditch enthused child would have started pointing and begging their parents for the big item on display. Quite like what Kieran was exhibiting at this very moment.

The differences between his two sons were striking. It was like night and day. Harry kept quiet, purposefully walking behind them and out of sight most of the time. Severus had made an effort to slow his pace and walk beside him, but it that proved to be difficult with Kieran around. And to think, Severus had previously thought the boy arrogant and striving to be center of attention all the time. Kieran was the one who was obviously loving the attention today, and Severus was quite grateful that Harry didn't constantly chatter on like Kieran did. Severus knew he would have wanted to strangle the both of them before they made it halfway through their trip if that was the case.

And thinking back to Madam Malkin's, Kieran would have certainly seized the chance of receiving brand new clothes, whereas Harry had made a fuss over Severus paying for his school supplies and buying him a new wardrobe. Severus had anticipated the protesting, but he wasn't prepared for uncomfortable tightness he felt in his chest at seeing so much gratitude in the boy's eyes. Without a doubt, Harry had never been provided with proper clothes before, considering all his clothes were rags and many sizes too big for his thin frame. Severus could empathize with him, given his own dismal childhood, but promptly pushed those memories from his mind. It still infuriated him to know that his son's basic needs weren't adequately provided for when living with those loathsome Muggles.

At the Owl Emporium, Severus watched Kieran trying to decide between an eagle owl or a black screech owl. He glanced over and noticed Harry petting a barn owl, which was hooting and gazing intently at the boy.

Now that Severus thought about it; didn't the boy have a snowy owl? Where was it? He was certain that it wasn't with Harry when he first arrived at Prince Manor.

Severus went to stand beside him and cleared his throat. "Harry, I don't recall having seen your owl."

Harry turned his attention to him, and said, "Oh, I sent her to the Weasleys when I left Hogwarts. She's safer there anyway, better than being locked in her cage all summer at the Dursleys." He fed a treat to the owl, who happily nipped at his fingers afterwards.

"Hey it bit me!"

Severus whirled around and saw Kieran glaring daggers at the black screech owl, clutching his hand to his chest.

"I think I want that eagle owl, Dad."

After finally purchasing the owl and sending it off to Prince Manor, it was nearly lunch time and Kieran had started to complain. They headed to one of the small cafes lining Diagon Alley, and were seated in one of the outdoor tables with a tall canopy shading them from the blazing sun.

Whilst browsing the menu, Severus could see Harry fidgeting a little from the corner of his eye. He wondered why that was, but didn't have time to question it as the waiter came to the table, asking what they would like to order.

Harry's behavior became clear to Severus when the boy hesitantly ordered the cheapest thing on the menu.

Maybe it's the first time the boy has been taken out to eat? 

Then again, now that Harry's home life was clear to Severus, he didn't doubt it.

"Hey Dad," said Kieran, drawing Severus' attention once the waiter had left. "What house do you think I'll get sorted into at Hogwarts?"

Severus folded his arms across the table. "I suppose we will just have to wait and see."

"I hope I get put into Slytherin," Kieran said with unmistakable admiration in his voice. "You're Head of Slytherin house right?"

Severus nodded. "Yes I am."

"What house are you in, Potter?" Kieran suddenly asked Harry, obviously catching the boy by surprise.

"Gryffindor," Harry replied.

Kieran snorted and rolled his eyes. "Figures."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry said, glowering at him.

"All brawny and brave with no brains," Kieran jeered, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice.

"Actually, the hat wanted to put me in Slytherin," Harry said suddenly, but judging by the look on his face, Severus could tell that the boy hadn't meant to reveal that.

"Why did it not?" Severus asked curiously. He would have never thought that Harry could have been sorted into his house before. There was certainly no doubt that Harry belonged in Gryffindor, though maybe the boy did possess some Slytherin qualities that Severus had never recognized before. It certainly would have changed everything if Harry had been sorted into his house. Perhaps, he would have found out about his abysmal home life sooner, however, Severus knew he wouldn't have been able to change the way he treated the boy in class. He had been a spy then, and he had to tread carefully with many children in his class able to report back to their Death Eater parents.

Harry looked away, only giving a small shrug.

"I'm sure you will get into Slytherin, Kieran. You are after all, rather ambitious as well as brilliantly cunning," Clarice said, smoothing out a stray piece of hair from Kieran's forehead. "Not to mention two intelligent parents that you inherited them from."

Nothing more was said as their food arrived at that moment, and everyone tucked in. Severus discreetly watched Harry pick at his food, keeping his head down and his eyes on his plate the entire duration of the meal.

After lunch, the last stop was for their school books. Severus was browsing through the Potions section when he noticed Harry flipping through a Defense spell book. He initially thought it was one of those absurd Quidditch books containing steps to performing dangerous tricks, and was therefore a bit surprised that it wasn't.

As if on cue though, Kieran appeared next to him, holding up one of those said quidditch books. "Dad, can I get this?"

"Fine," Severus said curtly. He was tempted to say no, but he knew that Kieran would just ask Clarice for it. Which would all lead to the same result anyway.

After both boys had accumulated a stack of books in their hands and purchased them, they were finally finished with what felt like to Severus, the longest shopping trip ever. Just in time too because the Polyjuice potion was due to wear off any minute now. They began making their way back to the Leaky Cauldron.

Just as they were a few steps away from the Leaky Cauldron, Severus heard a series of loud sharp cracks, followed quickly by several frightened gasps and screams.

Severus looked around, but before he could make sense of anything, the shop closest to them exploded, the force sending them to the ground. With a quick draw of his wand, Severus cast a shield charm to protect them from any of the burning debris raining down around them. Thick clouds of black smoke were billowing from the shops on fire.

"Is everyone all right?" Severus asked as he rose to his feet and briefly dusted himself off. Kieran and Clarice were standing now as well, both seemed shaken, but uninjured.

Severus glanced around, trying to figure out what the hell was happening, and immediately realized that something— no, someone was missing.

Where is Harry? 

His heart plummeted as an almost paralyzing panic surged through him.

The boy had been just a few steps behind them when the explosion occurred, Severus had been certain of it, but now, Harry was nowhere to be seen.

Surely the boy wouldn't have run off—

"Harry!" Severus called, looking wildly around at the scattering crowds of people, hoping to spot his son amongst them. Everyone in the vicinity were either disapparating or running around, shoving each other out of the way.

From further down the street, Severus could discern several dark robed figures, and then a high, cold voice echoed in the distance, making his blood run cold in his veins.

"What's happening?" Kieran asked in a trembling voice, clinging tightly onto his mother.

"The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters," Severus replied as calmly as he could. He forced down the panic threatening to overwhelm him, then focused on conjuring his Patronus and sending a quick message to Dumbledore.

"Severus, we need to leave," Clarice said, grabbing onto his arm.

"I have to find Harry. You take Kieran and leave!" Severus ordered, but as he turned to head in the other direction, Clarice's grip on his arm tightened.

"We're not leaving without you!" she shouted, pulling Kieran closer to her side.

"Come on, Dad!" Kieran cried, looking wide eyed at the masks figures getting closer to them.

"Go on! I need to find Harry first!" Severus said forcefully, attempting to free his arm from her viselike grip. They were wasting time—

"No, he's not worth risking your life for!" Clarice hissed, frantically trying to pull him with her. "He's nothing but trouble! Look around— we can't even go anywhere without almost getting killed!"

Severus wrenched his arm out of her grasp, nearly knocking her off her feet in the process.

"He's my son," he said fiercely, "and I'm not leaving my son behind."

With that, Severus whirled around and headed straight into the chaos, moving against the current of people rushing in the opposite direction.

The only thought on his mind was finding his son.

Everything happened so quickly.

One moment, Harry had been weaving through the crowd, following just a few feet behind his father. The next, he was clutching his forehead as a sharp, searing pain erupted from his scar. He gasped, shutting his eyes, his fingers rubbing the spot on his forehead where the scar would be if it wasn't for the Polyjuice. It was beginning to wear off now; Harry could feel the jagged edges of the scar slowly forming beneath his fingertips.

Distinct pops of apparition sounded behind him, and Harry whirled around, instantly catching sight of a cluster of dark robed figures appearing down the cobblestone street.

A chill ran down his spine as a high-pitched, hissing voice echoed in the distance. He could recognize that voice anywhere...

Did he somehow find out I was here?

Harry frantically looked in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron, hoping to catch a glimpse of his father, or Kieran, or even Clarice, but all he saw were a sea of people rushing past him, pushing and shoving each other out of the way in their haste.

Spells began flying in every direction, and Harry managed to duck in time, just narrowly avoiding a spell that hurtled past his head. It ignited a row of shops behind him, causing Harry to dive out of the way, using his arms to shield himself against the debris raining down around him.

After scrambling to his feet, Harry attempted to head toward the Leaky Cauldron, but ended up even further away when he suddenly got caught in a massive surge of frantic wizards and witches.

How was he going to find his father now?

Just then, Harry spotted two twin redheads dueling with a couple of Death Eaters down the street, in front of a colorfully decorated storefront. Must be the Weasley's new joke shop, Harry concluded as he remembered giving them his unwanted winnings from the Triwizard Tournament...

Something caught his eye— a Death Eater was crouched behind a pillar, his wand aimed at one of the twins, a deadly spell forming on his lips...

Before Harry was even aware of what he was doing, he had drawn his wand and was sprinting as fast as he could towards them.

"Stupefy!" Harry shouted, hitting the surprised Death Eater squarely in the chest.

His sudden appearance proved to be a distraction as both twins turned to see what had just happened. One of the other Death Eaters took the opportunity to send a hex at the twin on the left— Harry thought it was George— and struck his leg. With a pained yelp, George fell to the ground, his leg bent at an odd angle.

"Incarcerous!" Harry yelled, and ropes sprung from the tip of his wand, binding the Death Eater's arms to his sides before he was able to cast anything else.

A rapid sequence of spells were fired back and forth as Harry and Fred dueled the two remaining Death Eaters. Harry managed to stun one while Fred disarmed the other before also capturing him ropes. Then they hurried to check on George, who had sought shelter from the battle behind an abandoned street cart.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, kneeling beside George. His leg appeared to be in bad shape.

"Yeah, I think I'll be fine," George said in a tight voice.

"Help me bring him inside the shop," said Fred, swinging George's arm over his shoulder and supporting him as he stood up. Harry did the same on George's other side, and they made their way into the joke shop. As they entered, Harry briefly glanced around at all the merchandise lining the many shelves, spotting some Skiving Snackboxes that were piled to the ceiling.

"Thanks for the help, mate," George said as he slowly lowered himself into a chair.

"Yeah, we came quite close to being offed by those Death Eaters," said Fred, glancing out the window before giving Harry a small grin.

"No problem," said Harry, waving away the gratitude.

Fred furrowed his brows, staring at him for a moment.

"You seem really familiar..." he said with a quick glance at George, who nodded his head in agreement. "Have we met before?"

Before Harry could answer, a slight breeze from the door blew his fringe away from his forehead, and recognition dawned on both of their freckled features.

"Harry?" Fred asked incredulously, his eyebrows raised.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, it's me," he confirmed, briefly running a hand over his scar and smoothing down his fringe to conceal it again. The Polyjuice must have completely worn off by now.

"You look a bit different, Harry," Fred said, seeming to take in Harry's new appearance. "Care to tell us why?"

"You sort of look like someone I can't quite place my finger on right now," George added, a tiny smirk on his pale face, even though he looked to be in a considerable amount of pain.

"And what are you doing here? We thought you were supposed to be with your relatives..."

Harry sighed, glancing out the window at the quickly dwindling crowds. This wasn't the time to explain everything right now, and he didn't exactly know where to begin anyway. He just needed to find his father and get the hell out of here.

"Er, it's a bit of a long story... Better save it for another time. I need to find—"

Harry cut himself off, hearing that same cold, hissing voice again. But this time, it sounded considerably more closer than before.

"Did you really think you would escape unpunished, Severus?"

Harry's heart leapt into his throat as he heard who was being addressed.

"How does it feel to throw your life away for a weak boy?" Voldemort continued when he received no response from Snape. "Betraying me for all these years... I should prolong this for as long as necessary, don't you agree?"

There was a short pause, then Harry heard, "Crucio!"

Taking a steadying breath in an unsuccessful attempt to calm himself, Harry clutched his wand tightly and emerged from the shop. He heard the twins urgently calling his name behind him, but Harry paid them no mind as he continued on.

No one else is going to die because of me, not if I can help it. 

Several feet down the street, Harry saw them.

His heartbeat seemed too loud in his ears as he drew closer to the scene. Voldemort had his back to Harry, his wand raised, staring down at a dark robed figure on the ground in front of his feet. Not a sound escaped from Snape's lips as his limbs twitched and quivered uncontrollably from the curse.

"Leave him alone!" Harry shouted, immediately acquiring the attention of both Voldemort and Snape. He attempted to put up a brave front, concealing the increasing terror just below the surface.

Voldemort released the curse on Snape and whirled around, appearing surprised for a split second at the interruption, before he set his eyes on Harry.

"Ah, how nice of you to join us, Harry." Voldemort's red eyes gleamed, his lipless mouth curling upwards into an unpleasant smile as he closed the distance between them. "Saves me the effort of having to find you myself."

The pain in Harry's scar returned with a vengeance now, and he tried his best to ignore it, not wanting to display any of the discomfort the scar was causing him.

"Well I'm here now. So let him go then," Harry said, standing his ground and resisting the urge to go to his father.

Snape appeared to be in a badly injured state; his robes were torn, blood seeping from his side and a rather large gash on his leg was bleeding profusely. The man was paler than usual, his black hair plastered to his face with sweat. And when Harry met his father's eyes, what he saw in them nearly broke his resolve. There was a touch of anger in those dark eyes, but what was accompanying the anger was something akin to... fear?

No, surely Harry was mistaken; since when was Snape ever afraid of anything? He couldn't remember a time when he had ever witnessed the usually stoic professor ever being frightened.

"How noble of you Harry," Voldemort sneered, drawing Harry's attention back to him. "Coming to the rescue of a man who has always despised you."

"Leave him out of this. It's not him that you want," Harry said, forcing a false calmness into his voice. He pushed away the panic threatening to overwhelm him, but he couldn't see any way out of this situation. Hopefully, someone had alerted Dumbledore and the Order, and they were on their way. Maybe he could stall until they arrived...

"On the contrary, Severus here," Voldemort gave a swift kick to Snape's injured leg, causing the man to barely suppress a pained groan, "has committed the ultimate crime of treachery."

Voldemort smirked at Snape's obvious pain.

"And he will pay dearly for his betrayal, but I suppose I should wait to finish him now that you have arrived," Voldemort continued softly. "I want to extract every last bit of agony before I get rid of him."

Harry's grip tightened on his wand, his heart thudding loudly against his ribcage. We'll see about that.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry cried, hoping to catch Voldemort off guard.

But the spell was blocked with a lazy flick of Voldemort's wand, and at lightning speed, a silent spell was fired back at Harry. With a hastily erected Shield Charm, Harry attempted to block it, but after a loud bang, his shield broke. He hissed, clutching his arm as a large cut appeared on his arm from his elbow to his wrist.

Ignoring the throbbing in his arm and the blood soaking his robe sleeve, Harry sent back multiple spells in quick succession, hoping at least one of them would hit their target. But Voldemort simply flicked his wand as if he was merely swatting away some annoying flies, and all of Harry's spells disintegrated.

"Crucio!"

The intense pain filled every part of him, clouding his senses as the feeling of hot knifes pierced his skin. His limbs were jerking uncontrollably as he bit his lip to prevent any screams from escaping. There was no way he would give Voldemort the satisfaction. It was no wonder people went insane from this. The pain was so overwhelming, consuming his entire being, all his senses blazing with agony. Harry didn't know how long he was held under the curse, but it felt like an eternity had gone by before Voldemort finally lifted it.

"Did you like that, Harry?" When Harry didn't respond and simply glared, Voldemort continued, "Now that I seem to have acquired your attention, onto the important matter at hand." Voldemort stared down at him with glinting red eyes and demanded, "Tell me what you know about the prophecy."

"Why do you think I would tell you? I would never tell you anything!" Harry snapped, attempting to quell his trembling as he scrambled to his feet. His entire body ached, and he staggered sideways a bit, finding it difficult to keep his balance.

Voldemort didn't appear angry at Harry's refusal, he only seemed slightly amused. "Well, perhaps a larger dose of pain will loosen your tongue," he said, raising his wand at Harry again.

Harry steeled himself for the waves of pain to hit his body, fully expecting the Cruciatus curse again, but instead, it was like a whip was slashing into his back, tearing relentlessly into his flesh. It was as if someone was lashing him, over and over. Harry collapsed to the ground on his hands and knees, gritting his teeth and making an effort to not make a sound.

It's not like this was new to him.

The pain kept coming in waves, becoming more intense with each passing second, until Harry was afraid he might lose consciousness at any moment.

Then the curse suddenly lifted.

"Have you had enough, Harry?" Voldemort asked silkily.

Again, Harry didn't respond, continuing to glare at that ugly snake face. He was still on his hands and knees, feeling distinctly vulnerable to further attack, but he couldn't muster up the strength to get back on his feet at the moment.

Another flick of Voldemort's wand, and the curse resumed. This time, Harry couldn't hold back his screams of agony, the curse seeming infinitely more intense than before. He hated hearing the satisfied laughter coming from Voldemort.

The curse was held for the longest time, and Harry was edging into unconsciousness. Right as he was about to give in to the blissful darkness, Voldemort finally lifted the curse.

"I must commend you on your resilience Harry, however, I have other means to achieve what I desire."

Before Harry was aware of what was happening, Voldemort had swooped down directly in front of him, menacing scarlet eyes locking onto green ones. He instantly felt a harsh probing in his mind, tearing through his non-existent shields and ripping into his memories. The sensation was excruciating, as if hot needles were being plunged through his skull. Harry heard a distant screaming, but wasn't sure if that was actually coming out of his mouth or happening in his mind. Snape wasn't exaggerating last year when his father informed him about Voldemort's skills in Legilimency during those terrible Occlumency lessons. Now, more than ever, Harry wished that he mastered Occlumency when he had the chance.

The cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley had drifted into the far distance. Memories began flashing by, memories that Harry never wanted anyone to see, especially not Voldemort.

Uncle Vernon yelling at him for messing up breakfast; Aunt Petunia swinging at him with her frying pan, just barely missing his head; Dudley and his gang chasing after a younger version of himself; his relatives laughing at him as Ripper chased him up a tree; a red-faced Uncle Vernon throwing him into his cupboard; Harry on the floor of his bedroom with Uncle Vernon looming over him, his belt raining down on him as he ranted about his worthlessness...

"Ah, your Muggle relatives aren't very fond of you, are they Harry?" Voldemort's voice taunted in his head.

"Get out!" Harry shouted, desperately trying to rid his mind of Voldemort's unwanted presence.

Thinking back to when he had been possessed by Voldemort at the Ministry of Magic, Harry concentrated on his more cherished memories of his friends and Sirius. His exhaustion was settling in, his last reserves of energy slowly depleting, but nonetheless, he focused and managed to pull forth those treasured memories that Voldemort would never be able to understand.

There were bits and pieces of memories from his years at Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione... last year's Christmas spent with Sirius... the fun times spent with the Weasley family...

He let those small feelings of warmth and happiness envelop him completely, holding off the darkness that Voldemort was trying to smother him with.

Even a few memories of Snape had slipped into the mix. His father's voice echoed in his mind as the memories resurfaced...

You didn't deserve that... That is no way to treat a child... Because, you are my son...

Voldemort abruptly withdrew from his mind, eliciting a loud gasp from Harry when he did. From where Harry was laying on the ground, panting, he watched as Voldemort moved towards Snape, gazing intensely at him before turning his sights back on Harry.

Please... please let the Order get here now...

Harry didn't think he could take anymore.

"I now understand who you received your appearance from," Voldemort said softly. "I must admit, I had thought you were better than that, Severus." His features bore a disgusted look as he again pierced Snape with his red-eyed gaze. "When did you have relations with that Mudblood?"

Snape didn't answer, but he did send a glare at Voldemort, a glare so potent it could have burnt a hole right through him.

"Tell me, Severus, have you developed feelings for the boy?" Voldemort demanded.

His father had opened his mouth to reply, with what, Harry would probably never know, because the abrupt sounds of Apparition prevented Harry from hearing Snape's answer. He prayed it was Dumbledore with the Order finally arriving, hoping beyond hope that it wasn't Death Eaters coming to watch the show.

Voldemort raised his wand again, and before Harry could even attempt to defend himself, a purple spell surged from Voldemort's wand and sped rapidly towards him.

It met its target, and Harry's entire world instantly went dark.

Severus didn't know how he always got caught up in these situations, but he had been frantically searching for Harry amidst the chaos when he was seen by the very last person he wanted to be seen by. After dueling with some amateur Death Eaters, who he took out easily, Severus was confronted by his former master. The Dark Lord was certainly less than pleased with him, and Severus had countered all the curses thrown his way until one of them slipped past his Shield Charm. He was disarmed, his wand rolled out of reach, and Severus suffered a Cutting Curse to his side and a Bone-Breaking curse to his leg. Then the Cruciatus Curse, which Severus was all too familiar with after being in the Dark Lord's ranks all those years.

The only slightly comforting thought running through Severus' mind was that he was hopefully buying Harry time to leave. He knew that Harry didn't stand a chance against the Dark Lord. The boy wasn't ready, he was only sixteen after all, and if the Dark Lord was preoccupied with Severus, there was less of a chance he would find Harry before help arrived...

But then, of course, the boy had come rushing to Severus' aid.

His heart had leapt into his throat when he saw Harry running towards them.

Foolish child!

Severus wanted to scream at him to leave, to run as far away as possible...

Why did the boy have to come save him? Why did the boy have to possess this infuriating hero complex?

If he'd only just have a sliver of self preservation instead of always rushing head first into dangerous situations without a thought of his own safety...

Then the torture had started.

A rage like Severus had never felt before rose within him as he struggled to sit up, trying to ignore the agony in his bones, and make it over to Harry. But the Dark Lord was blocking his path, and Severus could do nothing more than watch it all happen, as unbearable as it was.

A small amount of pride had fluttered in Severus' chest when he watched how Harry endured those painful curses. The boy wasn't letting a sound slip past his lips, but Severus knew he was reaching the end of his rope. When Harry's tortured screams filled the air, Severus would have given anything to ease his pain, his heart clenching painfully as they continued. He felt utterly useless. Surely there was nothing worse than having to hear his son being tortured while he sat a few feet away, entirely helpless to stop it. Severus knew those pain filled screams would be a reoccurrence in his nightmares now, and he prayed desperately to any deity listening that help would arrive soon.

A few moments later, his prayers seemed to be answered when Severus heard the sounds of Apparition nearby. Relief coursed through him when he finally saw Dumbledore, a tall and imposing figure in his purple shimmering robes, hurrying towards them.

But the relief was short-lived; Severus' blood froze in his veins when he watched the Dark Lord raise his wand, whispering something in Latin before an unknown spell burst forth towards Harry, hitting him directly in the chest. The boy's eyes had widened in surprise before they closed, and his body went limp.

Within the next second, the Dark Lord had Disapparated before Dumbledore could get too close, escaping capture once again, but Severus couldn't care less at the moment. He was entirely focused on his son.

"Harry," Severus whispered, his heart pounding inside his chest as he slowly dragged himself over to his son, ignoring the protesting aches of his body and the pain radiating from his leg. Besides the occasional involuntary muscle spasms, Harry was very still— much too still— and Severus was beginning to fear the worst. It was terror like he had never felt before.

Is he alive?

"Severus, you shouldn't injure yourself further," Dumbledore said as he knelt beside Harry, a grim expression on his face. "Poppy is on her way."

"I need to get to my son," Severus said firmly, with only a slight tremble to his voice.

He was determined to check on Harry's condition for himself, and missed the surprised look that appeared on Dumbledore's face at his words. Once Severus had finally reached Harry, he gently cradled the boy's head, his fingers desperately feeling for a pulse. He found it a few seconds later, thready and weak beneath his fingertips, but at least it was there.

Severus shut his eyes for a moment, willing his heart to calm its erratic beating.

Harry's alive. His foolish, but brave child is alive...

The relief that flowed through him was like nothing he'd ever felt before. Severus released a shuddering breath, one he didn't know he'd been holding, and lightly carded a shaky hand through Harry's dark hair.

A few moments later, his relief transformed into anger that formed in the pit of his stomach as he turned to glare at the Dumbledore.

"What took you so long?" Severus demanded tightly, his voice still a bit strained.

"Voldemort had ordered his Death Eaters to surround the vicinity and set up wards around Diagon Alley that prevented us from Apparating in. I needed to remove them one at a time to let the Order and myself in," Dumbledore calmly explained. "I was informed that there were also other attacks simultaneously occurring elsewhere along with this one."

Dumbledore's blue eyes were blazing, a hard expression on his normally kind features as he stood and surveyed the destruction around them.

Severus looked around as well and for the first time, realized how much damage had been done to the place. Many of the shop storefronts were blown to pieces and debris was littered the cobblestone street. There was an unusual stillness to the place now, the complete opposite of what it was when they had arrived just a few hours ago when Diagon Alley had been lively and bustling with shoppers on a warm summer day. The street was nearly deserted now, except for the few Order members and Aurors walking about.

A few moments later, Poppy finally arrived.

"Oh, dear. He just can't get a break, can he?" she muttered softly, setting her bag down and waving her wand over Harry. "His body is suffering from the aftereffects of the Cruciatus curse and his back is in bad shape." Poppy quickly traced her wand along the cut on Harry's arm, and the skin instantly knitted itself back together, leaving a nearly imperceptible white scar in its place.

"The Dark Lord also hit Harry with an unknown spell before he Disapparated," Severus said, gazing down at his son's pale face. "I'm not sure what kind of spell it was."

"Whatever it is, my diagnostic spells can't detect it," Poppy said, frowning as she cast a few more different spells. "I think it's best we get him to the infirmary." She glanced over at him, "You too Severus."

"I suggest we should use the Floo, it is less stressful on the body than a Portkey," Dumbledore said as he cast a Feather-light Charm on Harry and gently gathered him up into his arms. Severus had a strange urge to pluck Harry out of Dumbledore's arms and carry his son himself, but he resisted, knowing he didn't have the strength at the moment.

"Severus, you shouldn't try to put any weight on that leg," Poppy said, conjuring a stretcher.

"I'm fine. I can walk," Severus bit out as he pushed himself up to stand. Immediately, his legs buckled beneath him and he staggered sideways into Poppy who quickly steadied him with a hand on his arm. He leaned his weight against her, suppressing a groan at the sharp pain shooting up his injured leg.

Poppy shook her head, clicking her disapproval, and said, "Severus, stop being so stubborn."

And with a flick of her wand, Poppy levitated a scowling Severus onto the waiting stretcher.

Severus reluctantly leaned back against the headboard, his arms folded and his injured leg propped up as he watched Poppy and Dumbledore tend to Harry from the next bed over. He would have preferred to be assisting Poppy in the care of his son, but Severus was temporarily incapacitated at the moment.

Poppy had handed Severus an Anti-Cruciatus potion to quell his uncontrollable trembling, and told him to stay put on the bed so as not to injure his leg further. Even threatened to use a Full Body-Bind on him if he attempted to stand. For a minute, Severus was very tempted to see if she would hold true on that threat, but ultimately decided against it.

Now was not the time. They needed to focus on Harry.

The boy appeared deathly pale resting in the hospital bed, his skin nearly matching the white sheets beneath him. The red lightning shaped scar stood out starkly on his forehead, and Severus had to suppress a shudder, recalling all that Harry had endured today at the hands of the Dark Lord. His son had braved through the torture with a fortitude that Severus wasn't aware the boy possessed. Harry also had an exceptionally high pain tolerance, though now that Severus thought about it, he suspected those damn Muggles had some contribution to that as well.

But all this wouldn't have happened if the boy hadn't decided to come recklessly charging in, attempting to rescue him. Then again, Severus should not be surprised, he should have expected it really. Over the last few years, Harry had taken every opportunity to rush head long into dangerous situations, seemingly with no concern whatsoever over his own safety. That was something Severus would need to address with the boy as he definitely would not tolerate such foolhardy behavior, especially where his son's safety was concerned.

A short gasp from Poppy drew Severus' attention then, and he leaned forward to see what was happening.

Harry had been turned over onto his stomach, his back now exposed. Remnants of the Dark Lord's whipping curse was littered over his skin, slashes of red lining up and down the boy's back. Severus winced at the sight, instantly reminded of a couple days ago when he had discovered the boy's back in a similar state. At least there wasn't any additional bruising on Harry's body this time, but considering these wounds were caused by magic, they would take longer to completely heal.

Poppy flicked her wand in a circular motion, and a moment later, several jars of salves and potion vials came soaring from her office.

After Harry's back had been completely coated with the salves and any other physical injures were resolved, Poppy shifted her attention back to Severus and began healing his broken leg. He watched, waiting a bit impatiently, itching to get out of this bed.

"You should really get some rest, Severus," Poppy said as she finished mending his leg. "Harry is fine now."

Before Severus could reply, however, his attention was caught by a soft whimper.

Severus turned his head towards Harry, and saw him weakly thrashing around on the bed, in the beginnings of what appeared to be another nightmare. Ignoring Poppy's protests, Severus stood on his newly healed leg and swiftly made his way over to his son's bedside.

"Harry," Severus called, gently grasping the boy's shoulders and giving a small shake. "Wake up. It's just a nightmare..."

"No, please... don't go..." Harry mumbled, sweat forming on his brow, not at all responding to Severus' attempts at waking him.

"Harry—"

"No, Mum!" Harry struggled harder, his agitation increasing. "He's going to kill you!"

Severus froze, his breath catching in his throat.

Did Harry somehow— No, he couldn't have...

The boy had only been about a year old at the time, how could he possibly remember...

"No... take me instead... please..." Harry continued muttering, his face scrunched up, tears escaping from the corner of his closed eyes.

Snapping out of his turbulent thoughts, Severus renewed his efforts, the need to wake his son increasing by the second. For a fleeting moment, a feeling of utter panic crashed over him, nearly overwhelming him before he roughly swept it aside.

"Harry!" Severus called again, but his attempts were futile.

He wasn't bloody waking. Why won't he wake?

Several thoughts dashed through Severus' mind, as he tried to make sense of this...

Then he remembered.

"That spell..." Severus murmured, the memory of Harry being struck with one of the Dark Lord's spells suddenly flashing through his mind. He glanced sharply at Dumbledore and Poppy, who were both watching Harry with the same amount of worry that Severus inwardly felt. "What was that spell?"

Poppy waved her wand over Harry again, and shook her head. "The diagnostic spells aren't detecting it."

Severus turned to Dumbledore, half expecting the headmaster to already have knowledge of the spell and its counter curse. "It was something in Latin. The Dark Lord had muttered it under his breath, right before he Disapparated," he said.

"It must be a rather complicated spell if Poppy's charms cannot detect it," said Dumbledore, stroking his beard thoughtfully, concern in his blue eyes as he gazed down at Harry. "I will need to see the memory of Voldemort casting it, Severus."

Then, without warning, a loud chilling cry came from Harry.

Severus started a little, and looked on in horror as his son's scar seemed to have burst open, blood beginning to seep from the wound. The redness around the scar made it appear as if it had just been freshly marked on his forehead.

What is happening?

All Severus could do was watch on as Poppy fretfully began cleaning the blood from Harry's forehead and tending to the wound. He hated not knowing what to do, and just being this helpless.

Finally, after a few moments, it was over.

Harry seemed to have settled down for now, still mumbling, but too quiet to make out what he was saying.

"Severus, accompany me to my office. I wish to see that memory." Dumbledore then turned to Poppy, and said, "May we use your Floo, Poppy?" After receiving a quick nod, Dumbledore started heading towards Poppy's office. "And keep an eye on Harry. If this happens again, please inform us," he said over his shoulder.

"Of course, Headmaster."

Severus hesitated for a split second, giving one last look at Harry before following Dumbledore out. He didn't want to leave his son's bedside, but he knew that giving Dumbledore the memory would be a crucial first step in figuring out the Dark Lord's curse.

When they arrived through the green flames into the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore immediately went to a cabinet beside the door and brought out the Pensieve, settling it on top of his desk. Severus raised his wand to his temple and focused on the needed memory, bringing it to the forefront of his mind. As soon as the silvery strand left the tip of Severus' wand and dropped into the basin, Dumbledore went in, followed closely by Severus.

Just as he landed, Severus heard the Dark Lord saying, "Tell me Severus, have you developed feelings for the boy?"

Dumbledore turned to gaze intently at memory Severus on the ground, waiting to hear Severus' response to that question, but it would never come as the sounds of Apparition sounded in the distance and memory Dumbledore could be seen striding towards them. This time, Severus paid close attention to the Dark Lord as he aimed his wand, but as the spell left his former master's lipless mouth, the Latin was lost to him as Severus once again, watched the curse hurtle towards Harry, striking him in the chest. It was a sight Severus hoped to never witness again.

The memory ended there, and they were suddenly back in Dumbledore's office.

"Did you hear the incantation?" Severus asked, staring at Dumbledore, noticing the contemplative look on the headmaster's face.

Dumbledore frowned, giving a slight shake of his head, and said, "It's a spell I'm not familiar with."

"Any ideas as to what it could be, then?"

"I have my guesses, but I will need to look into it further to be certain."

With a sweep of his wand, Dumbledore summoned several books from his many shelves to soar over to his desk, where they stacked themselves into a neat pile. Then Dumbledore took a seat, pulled the topmost one closer to him, and began flipping through the pages until he seemed to have come across the page he was searching for. Severus stood beside him, tilting his head to read the text.

But the Floo flared to life then, and his attention was drawn to Poppy's head in the fireplace.

"Come quickly, it's happening again," Poppy said urgently before she disappeared from the flames.

Severus didn't hesitate; he strode over, took a pinch of Floo powdered, and stepped into the fire.

When Severus arrived, he was met with a familiar scene. Harry appeared to be in the throes of another nightmare like before at Prince Manor, limbs wildly thrashing about as if was trying to fend off an invisible attacker.

"I've charmed the bed to prevent Harry from falling," Poppy told him, appearing visibly distraught. "I tried waking him, but like before, he can't wake."

Severus swept over to Harry's bedside, and attempted to grab the boy's shoulders to give a little shake, but immediately pulled back when Harry violently recoiled from his touch. "Harry!" Severus shouted, hoping that his son could hear him through whatever nightmare he was now facing.

"I'm s-sorry, Un-uncle Vernon..." Harry mumbled, tossing his head from side to side.

Severus stiffened, feeling an unmistakeable rage ignite within him upon hearing that despicable Muggle's name.

"Perform Legilimency on him, Severus." Dumbledore voiced from beside him, nearly startling Severus with his sudden appearance. "See what is happening inside his head."

"Why?" Severus questioned, not taking his eyes off his son.

"I suspect that these are not nightmares," said Dumbledore.

Severus simply stared at him for a moment, before he nodded, and cupped both hands on either side of Harry's head to hold him still. It was rather difficult with the boy's limbs flailing all over the place, fighting against Severus' hold.

"Shall I restrain him?" Poppy asked, and after receiving a slight nod from Severus, she flicked her wand, conjuring ribbons that wrapped around Harry's wrists and secured his arms to the bed.

Severus rested his fingers on his son's temples, his thumb gently prying Harry's unseeing eyes open. Then he looked deeply into those green eyes and whispered, "Legilimens."

The next thing Severus knew, he found himself in the kitchen of what appeared to be a Muggle home. He glanced around, and spotted the thin, bony form of Petunia sitting at the table with a rather plump child next to her. The boy was wailing his head off, and Severus briefly wondered what the obese child was sniveling about as he watched Petunia pat him on the back, attempting to calm him with promises of more sweets and treats.

Then, in a corner of the kitchen, Severus noticed a large, overweight man who seemed to be glaring down at something on the floor. That had to be Dursley, Harry's Uncle Vernon, Severus thought with a scowl as he moved closer. There, curled up at Dursley's feet, was a small bespectacled boy who appeared to be no older than four or five years old. Severus watched as Harry attempted to press himself into the corner, his small figure noticeably trembling as he tried to get as far away from Dursley as he could.

But then, Dursley grabbed Harry by the front of his overlarge shirt, roughly yanking the boy to his feet, and shouted, "Nothing but a worthless freak! Can't even cook breakfast without burning it!"

Behind Severus, the large child at the table with Petunia wailed even louder, and Dursley pointed towards him.

"Now you've made Dudley upset because he doesn't have his breakfast!"

"I-I'm s-sorry, Un-uncle Vernon!" Harry stammered, tears welling up in his eyes as he struggled against the tight grip. "I-I didn't mean to!"

"This should teach you a well deserved lesson," Dursley said, and dragged Harry over to the stove, where the remnants of the burnt breakfast still laid scattered on the floor.

Then, to Severus' horror, Dursley grasped Harry's wrists and forced the boy's small hands against the hot stove top.

The screams that followed were unbearable.

Momentarily forgetting himself, Severus attempted to shove Dursley away from his son, a multitude of Dark curses coming to mind, before Severus realized that he couldn't, his hand meeting nothing but empty air. Severus clenched his hands into fists, dropping them down uselessly to his sides as he watched on, unable to do a damn thing about it. The heart-wrenching screams continued on for what seemed like an eternity, and Severus had to remind himself it was just a nightmare...

Didn't Dumbledore say he suspected this wasn't a nightmare?

Severus looked around again; the scene did seem too clear to be one, all the details too sharp... A memory, then?

Does the curse force Harry to relive his worse memories?

"Vernon!" Petunia hissed over the screams, her eyes coldly taking in the scene. "The boy's getting too loud, I don't want the neighbors to hear!"

Severus glared at her, nearly unable to believe how callous Petunia had become. How could she just sit there and allow this to happen to her own nephew?

Finally, Dursley released his hold on Harry, but only to backhand the boy across the face, sending him to the ground, the shock momentarily quieting Harry.

"Stop your sniveling, boy!"

Harry shakily straightened his glasses and looked up at him with wide, tear-filled green eyes, as he bit down on his lip in an attempt to quiet his sobbing. Severus' heart clenched uncomfortably in his chest as he watched his son stare down at his hands, which were red and swollen with painful looking blisters, and struggled to keep quiet as tears rolled down his pale face.

Oh, how Severus wished to gather his son into his arms and curse that sodding Muggle into oblivion...

The time will come for that, Severus told himself, he would make sure of it, and there would be nothing left once Severus was finished with him.

It was one thing to hear about what happened in this house, but it was another thing entirely to actually witness it himself.

What sort of twisted person would punish a young child this severely for something so trivial as burning breakfast? Even Severus' abusive father hadn't been this cruel, sure he had been drunk and violent at times, but his father never went this far, not even close. Severus had been lucky to have had his mother to go to when dealing with his drunken father, but here, it seemed that Harry had no one to turn to.

This little boy had no one that cared to help him.

His son had to grow up like this.

If only I had known sooner...

Having seen more than enough, Severus withdrew from Harry's mind.

With a jolt, Severus stumbled backwards as he drew back, nearly falling over if Dumbledore hadn't steadied him with a hand on his elbow. It took a few seconds for him to fully reorient himself.

"It's a memory," Severus said softly, closing his eyes for a moment as he attempted to organize the torrent of emotions swirling inside him.

His thoughts went back to earlier.

If the spell brings about Harry's worst memories, then that must mean what happened earlier with his scar, was the night—

He's going to kill you!

Severus shook his head, shoving those crippling emotions behind his shields.

"What did you see, Severus?" Dumbledore asked as Severus opened his eyes to look at him.

Before Severus could respond, Poppy cut in, and said, "You wouldn't happen to know why these serious burns suddenly appeared on Harry's hands, would you?"

Alarmed, Severus banished the restraints and gently took Harry's hands into his own, examining them. These were the exact same burns that he'd just seen on his son's hands, and there were also bruises on Harry's wrists, no doubt from Dursley's rough grip.

The memories are affecting him in the present as well...

"It was a memory of that abominable Muggle burning Harry's hands on the stove top as punishment for burning breakfast," said Severus, not bothering to hide his anger. "I believe this curse forces Harry to relive his worst memories, and any injuries sustained in his past also affects him now in the present."

Poppy clasped her hand to her mouth for a moment, appearing horrified. "So then the first memory must have been the night he received his scar...?"

Dumbledore nodded grimly, and said, "Yes, it appears to be a memory curse, however, I have never come across one where the memories could also physically affect the victim in the present."

Neither had Severus, but he wouldn't put it past the Dark Lord to have created such a curse. He knew how much the Dark Lord enjoyed using curses designed to physically and mentally torture his victims.

"Oh, what are we to do, Albus?" Poppy asked as she summoned some burn salve and began applying it onto Harry's hands. "It's only going to get worse from here, knowing those Muggles."

Severus silently agreed, remembering the injuries that he had discovered on Harry a few days ago back at Prince Manor, and there must be many more incidents in Harry's childhood that Severus wasn't aware of yet.

"The most we could do at this point is to keep healing his injuries as they appear until we have a counter curse," Dumbledore said, gazing sadly down at Harry. Then he turned and strode back towards Poppy's office. "I will be in my office perusing my collection of ancient spell books."

Severus made to follow him. "I will help you," he said.

Dumbledore paused, halting Severus with a hand. "Not to worry, Severus, I will look for the counter curse," he said. "You should go home and rest. It has been a trying day for you."

Severus was about to argue that he was fine, more than capable to help with the counter curse, but then he realized he was still in his ruined and blood stained robes. And now that Severus thought about it, he should probably return to Prince Manor to freshen up, and also check up on Kieran and Clarice while he was at it. Then he would immediately return to Hogwarts afterwards.

"Fine," Severus conceded, "but I will be back shortly."

Dumbledore peered at him over his half moon spectacles, giving him a small smile, but didn't say anything more before he nodded and headed back to his office.

"I agree with Albus. You should really rest, Severus," Poppy said, as she finished tending to Harry's wrists. "I will alert you if anything happens to Harry."

Severus gave a stiff nod and lightly brushed a stray strand of hair away from Harry's forehead. At least his son appeared to be sleeping peacefully for now.

After giving one last look at Harry, Severus made his way to the Floo.

When he stepped foot out of the fire at Prince Manor, he was met with Kieran and Clarice, who appeared to have been waiting for him in his study.

"Where have you been, Severus?" Clarice demanded, giving him a once over. "You look awful."

Kieran had come to stand next to his mother, taking in Severus' appearance with wide eyes. "What happened to you, Dad?" he asked, worry evident in his voice.

Severus gave a long sigh; he really wasn't in the mood to deal with this right now.

"I will explain later, after I have freshened up and changed out of these robes," he said curtly, and swept past them.

After taking a much needed shower to strip the layer of grime and sweat from his person, Severus dressed in his usual black robes. His exhaustion from the long day was beginning to settle in, but he shoved it aside. He wouldn't rest until they had found a counter curse for Harry, and only once Severus knew for certain that his son was no longer suffering from his memories.

On his way back to his study, Severus passed by Kieran's room and decided to quickly check in on the boy. The door was cracked open a few inches and from what Severus could see, Kieran was lying on his stomach on the bed, facing away from the door.

Severus knocked on the door twice, then entered the room.

"Dad," Kieran said, sounding relieved when he saw Severus. He hastily stood and came to stand in front of him. Severus took the time to look Kieran over.

The boy appeared to be fine.

"Are you all right?" Severus asked.

Kieran nodded. "Yeah, thankfully Mum and I made it out of there really quickly," he said, and Severus noted a slight shakiness in his voice.

"I am glad you escaped unharmed."

"Are you okay, Dad?" Kieran asked as his dark eyes sweeping over Severus. "You got hurt, didn't you?"

"I'm fine now, you don't have to worry," Severus said smoothly, hoping he sounded reassuring.

Kieran frowned, looking unconvinced. "You weren't fine! You came back with blood on your robes!"

"Yes well, Madam Pomfrey already healed me, there is no need to worry further," Severus said, leaning against Kieran's desk.

Kieran stared at him for a moment, his dark eyes a bit brighter than usual, before he sighed, looking away.

"Did you find Potter?" he asked, fidgeting with one of his dragon figurines on his desk. "'Cause didn't come back with you."

"He is in the hospital wing at the moment," Severus said. "I need to get back there soon."

"But you just got back home!" Kieran said indignantly, staring up at him.

"I will be back as soon as I can," Severus told him.

Kieran went silent for a few moments. Severus studied him, noting that there seemed to something bothering the boy, and he waited, hoping that Kieran would simply come out and say what was on his mind. Thankfully, he didn't have wait too long.

"I thought that you weren't going to spy anymore," Kieran said softly after a while. "I thought you weren't going to be a part of the war anymore..."

Severus should have expected this, remembering how it was a problem they had to work around when Severus had found out about Kieran and before the boy came to live with him. He hadn't thought much of it since, considering his cover had been compromised and his spying days were a thing of the past just a few days in to Kieran staying with him.

"My Death Eater days may be over, however, that does not mean that I am not still a part of this war," Severus said.

"But why Dad? It's so dangerous!" Kieran's voice grew louder, becoming a bit hysterical, his obsidian eyes that he had inherited from Severus were glistening. "You- you could have been killed today!"

Unsettled by Kieran's outburst, Severus put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Calm down, Kieran."

Then, unexpectedly, Kieran flung himself forwards and wrapped his arms around Severus, the boy's head coming to rest against his sternum. Taken completely by surprise, Severus froze, not quite knowing what to do. He was a bit shocked to see this display from Kieran, having never seen this side of the boy before.

"I don't want to lose you too, Dad," Kieran muttered against Severus' chest. "I just found you not too long ago."

Severus frowned, settling for awkwardly patting his son's back. "You won't lose me, Kieran," he said softly.

"You were taking a long time to get back... and I just thought..." Kieran trailed off, burying his face in Severus' robes.

Severus thought he heard a small sniffle, and his heart twinged at that. Perhaps this incident in Diagon Alley had affected Kieran more than he thought. Severus swallowed, then slowly wrapped his arms around Kieran and light cupped the boy's head, not really knowing what to say. He'd never been a person that was proficient at providing words of comfort.

"You were hurt looking for Potter today," Kieran muttered bitterly, still clinging onto him.

Now this was something that they still needed to discuss. He couldn't let this hatred Kieran has for Harry go on any longer. Kieran needed to understand that Harry was also Severus' son, whether he liked it or not.

Severus drew Kieran back, but kept both hands on the boy's shoulders.

"It was not his fault," Severus said in a firm tone, looking Kieran directly in the eyes. "You are going to have to accept the fact that Harry is also my son just as much as you are."

Kieran looked away, and muttered under his breath, "Not bloody likely."

It was said almost too quietly to hear, but Severus still heard it.

"Unless you wish to scrub more cauldrons tomorrow, I suggest you refrain from using that kind of language," Severus warned, aiming a glare that wasn't nearly as potent as usual at the boy.

Kieran sighed, before nodding his head, appearing too tired to argue this time.

Severus glanced at the clock and realized it was getting late.

"You should get some rest, it has been a long day."

Kieran didn't protest as Severus steered him towards his bed, and watched as his son settled in. Just as Severus was turning to leave, Kieran weakly grabbed onto his arm and asked in a soft, tired voice, "Can you stay a bit longer, Dad? Please?"

Severus gave an inward sigh, but after seeing how affected Kieran was from the day's events, he decided to give in to his son's request.

"Very well. Go to sleep, Kieran," Severus said softly as he drew the sheets up to Kieran's chin, then took a seat on the edge of the boy's bed.

After several moments, and once he was sure that Kieran was fast asleep, Severus headed back to his study, fully intent on heading back to Hogwarts to check on Harry and to help Dumbledore with the counter curse.

When Severus reached his study, he was a bit surprised to see that Clarice was still there, now gazing out the window.

Severus cleared his throat to make his presence known, then said, "You should get some rest, Clarice."

Clarice whirled around, her arms folded against her chest.

"I can't without speaking with you first," she replied, her eyes locking onto his. "I was worried, Severus. You had taken a long time to return." She moved closer, resting a hand on his arm. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes," Severus said simply, and feeling slightly uncomfortable with the closeness, he stepped away just out of her reach.

Clarice searched his features for a moment, then sighed, running a hand over her forehead. "I had to give Kieran a Calming Draught. You should have seen the state he was in when we returned."

Severus nodded, and said, "I am aware. He is in bed now."

Clarice shook her head, leaning a hip against Severus' desk.

"This war is too dangerous, Severus. I don't want Kieran to be involved," she said, a sharp glint in her eyes. "My first priority is his safety and your's should be too."

"It is," Severus agreed evenly. "Harry's as well."

Clarice's blue eyes flashed.

"Since when did you start caring so much for the boy?" she demanded, folding her arms over her chest. "If I recall correctly, you were opposed to him coming to stay with you. What changed?"

"That boy, is my son!" Severus snarled. "Just as much as Kieran is."

"Do you realize how much danger he puts everyone in? We can't even go to Diagon Alley without almost being killed!" Clarice exclaimed, gesturing wildly around as if trying to get Severus to see the obvious. "It's astounding how everyone is fawning over him, with all the trouble he causes!"

"None of that is Harry's fault!" Severus snapped. "He cannot help it if a dark wizard is constantly targeting him!"

"We could have died today, Severus! All because of that boy!"

"It is not. Harry's. Fault," Severus said slowly, enunciating each word.

Clarice looked as if she wanted to continue her tirade, but stopped herself, pursing her lips and turning away from him. There was a moment of tense silence before she spoke again, softly this time.

"Kieran deserves to have a father in his life. He has been without a father for too long."

Severus frowned, crossing his arms. "And Harry does not?"

To be honest, Harry deserved more than Severus could provide him. Kieran's childhood had certainly more pleasant than Harry's, having a loving mother which was more than Harry what had growing up. Kieran also didn't have to deal with an evil dark wizard constantly hunting him down, having to be held as the savior of the wizarding world, and living with relatives that despised his existence. Everything that Kieran wanted was provided by his mother, and the only thing Severus thought had been missing from Kieran's life was a father figure, but he had that now as well.

Clarice didn't seem to have heard him at all, appearing to be lost in her own thoughts. Her previous anger seemed to have dissipated somewhat as she sighed and took a seat on the settee. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and said softly, "We could have lost you today. I don't want Kieran to ever have to go through something like that again, especially after—"

She abruptly cut herself off and shook her head.

Severus narrowed his eyes at her, wondering what she was about to say, but didn't have time to question it as the Floo suddenly flared to life.

"Severus, it's getting worse," Poppy said quickly, her voice urgent. "I need your help this time."

Severus swept over to the fireplace and grabbed a pinch of Floo powder.

"Out of the way, Poppy," he said, with a wave of his hand. "I'm coming through."

Severus only waited a few seconds before he stepped into the fire, not looking back when he heard Clarice calling his name as he disappeared into the green flames.

Seven year old Harry had never seen his Aunt and Uncle so angry before. It wasn't like he did it on purpose— whatever he did that is.

He had absolutely no idea how he'd managed to end up on the school roof. It just happened so quickly, like he'd somehow teleported up here, as if by magic... The last thing Harry remembered was being chased by Dudley and his gang, about to be pummeled to the ground in their daily dose of 'Harry Hunting.' He had been cornered and recalled desperately wishing that he could escape, to be anywhere but there. Then the next thing Harry knew, he was staring down at his attackers with a brief sense of satisfaction before realizing how much trouble he was going to be in.

He'd also attracted the attention of the entire school, and the headmistress would surely be informing Uncle Vernon about his strange appearance on the roof. His uncle hated whenever he did anything freaky. 

On the way home, Harry knew he was in for it, especially after hearing the Dursleys speaking with the headmistress about the stunt he had pulled. As soon as the car parked in the driveway, Uncle Vernon had forcefully dragged him from the car, through the house, and into the kitchen.

"You really done it now boy!" Uncle Vernon shouted, his face turning an unpleasant shade of red and one of his chubby finger shaking in front of Harry's face.

"I didn't mean to! I swear I don't know how I did it!" Harry tried to explain, backing away and pressing himself into the counter. "It just sort of happened— It was like mag—"

"Don't ever say that word!" Uncle Vernon roared, causing Harry to flinch. "What did we say about never speaking that word?"

"I'm s-sorry, Uncle Vernon!" Harry stuttered.

"I warned you boy!" his uncle said, clutching onto Harry's shirt and tugging him closer. Harry could make out an angry vein pulsing on Uncle Vernon's forehead as he struggled futilely against his firm grip. Then, with one hand still holding onto Harry's shirt, Uncle Vernon deftly undid his belt from around his wide waist. He waved it around menacingly and struck the countertop, making a loud snapping noise before he hissed, "I will not tolerate any more of your freaky outbursts!"

Harry's heart pounded inside his ribcage, as he stared at the belt, a cold realization hitting him. He'd never been punished with a belt before... 

"P-please Uncle Vernon— I didn't mean to— I promise I-I'll be good!" Harry pleaded as he threw his hands up and tried to squirm away from Uncle Vernon's strong grip. In the next moment, Harry was released, and fell against the counter when he was suddenly backhanded across the face. Bringing a hand up to palm his stinging cheek, Harry glanced up at his uncle, unable to stop the tears that began filling his eyes and blurring his vision.

"I'll make sure you never do anything freaky again, even if I have to beat it out of you!" Uncle Vernon said, and there was a sort of maniac gleam in his eyes as he began swinging the belt.

It had been one of the worst days of his life. Even worse than that one time he had somehow turned his teacher's wig blue. For that, he was simply locked in his cupboard for a couple of days without food and was smacked around a couple of times, but this was the first time that Uncle Vernon punished him with a belt instead. Harry had tried to scramble away, but that only caused Uncle Vernon to become even more furious, earning Harry an extra punch in the ribs for the effort. At one point, he had pathetically begged Aunt Petunia for help, but she simply gave him a look of disgust and turned the other way.

He really should have known better. Nobody ever cared about him anyway...

Harry wasn't sure what was happening at the moment, all he knew was that every unpleasant memory he kept locked away in the back of his mind was now replaying in front of him. He couldn't stop watching as they continued, one after the other, continuously without reprieve.

And strangely, it seemed as if he could also feel them as well...

Every slap across the face from a rough hand, every lash with that leather belt, and every punch to the ribs could be felt as if he was actually there, reliving it.

Now as he endured the searing pain of the belt lashing his back, his Aunt and Uncle's cruel remarks seemed to whirl around him, echoing in his mind.

Nothing but a worthless freak... Burden to my family, you are...

Should have dropped you off at the orphanage... See if anyone would want to deal with your strangeness...

Nobody would want you... Ungrateful little freak... Always causing trouble...

It was all true.

No matter what he did, Harry would always be the freak, the burden, the orphan that had been dumped on their doorstep.

Nothing more to them... Or to anyone, a cruel voice reminded him.

Harry tried screaming, shouting, and pleading for something— anything that would allow him to escape this hell he was in, but everything he did was useless. It was as if he was shouting into a void, no one able to hear him.

Why bother though? What was the point?

There was nobody that would save him, like usual.

So the memories continued on... Relentlessly. Mercilessly.

Poppy was right; the curse was certainly getting worse, much worse than Severus could have imagined.

When Severus had arrived back in the infirmary, he was immediately met with the sight of Harry screaming, thrashing violently on the bed, his body convulsing as if being continuously struck by an invisible force. And once Severus drew closer to his son's bedside, he noticed a bit of red beginning to stain the sheets beneath Harry. Poppy seemed to notice as well because she quickly flicked her wand, stilling Harry's erratic movements, before she flipped him onto his stomach and vanished his pajama shirt.

As if Harry hadn't endured enough today; now there were angry welts and gashes on his back, bleeding freely, amidst the wounds he'd sustained earlier during the Dark Lord's torture session that still hadn't completely healed yet. Purple bruises began materializing on Harry's face and arms as well, darkening by the second. It was sickening to watch, and Severus wondered how much more Harry's body could take.

"I-I'm sorry... Uncle Vernon," Harry mumbled, and continued to mutter apologies to that vile Uncle of his. Severus clenched his hands as a bolt of anger tore through his insides, and although he was very tempted to locate those Muggles right now and strangle them himself, he shoved those emotions forcefully behind his shields. He would control it for now, and unleash it on those unsuspecting Muggles once the time came.

Poppy waved her wand in a complicated motion, conjuring a large sheet of parchment that hovered above Harry's bed. Written across it, Severus realized, was a list of injuries that Harry was suffering from at the moment. He stared at it, unable to tear his eyes away as he watched the list continuing to grow.

"This should help us keep track of the injuries as they appear," Poppy said, and with another flick of her wand, a tray with an assortment of potion vials and salves floated from her office and landed lightly on the bedside table. "We should hurry before the injuries get worse."

For the next hour or so, Severus and Poppy worked silently on Harry, healing injuries one after the other as they materialized.

How could anyone beat a child this severely? Severus thought, wondering how Harry could have survived this ordeal the first time. The most likely explanation Severus considered was that somehow Harry's magic had kept him alive and assisted in the healing process. Fortunately, wizards possessed the ability to heal much quicker than Muggles.

Finally, it seemed to end, and Severus was truly beginning to feel his exhaustion from this endlessly long day. It was appalling how many cuts and bruises they had healed, along with a few broken ribs and a mild concussion.

"Harry is stable for now. It seems that was the last of the injuries," Poppy said, glancing at the parchment again, before she looked back at Harry and cleansed the sheets with a wave of her wand.

After resettling Harry on the bed, Poppy spelled a clean pajama shirt on him, then pulled the covers up to just below his chin.

"One of these days, I'm going to pay those Muggles a visit," Severus muttered as he used a damp cloth to gently dab at Harry's sweaty forehead. If it was up to him, Severus would tear those filthy Muggles to shreds— with his bare hands. It was nothing short of what they deserved, beating the boy to within an inch of his life. Once Severus was through with them, there would be nothing of those filthy Muggles left. No one hurts a child in this manner and got away with it, especially not his child.

"Well, it's about time someone did," Poppy said, gathering up the empty potion vials. "It's absolutely inexcusable what they did to Harry."

Severus nodded, looking forward to that day. He would have all manners of dark curses ready to experiment on his new test subjects.

But for now, there was a more pressing matter that had to be dealt with. This curse was still progressing, and after the most recent episode, they needed to find the counter curse as soon as possible.

With Harry stable for now, Severus turned and swept towards the Floo, intent on checking with Dumbledore. Hopefully, he made some progress in figuring out the counter curse in the last few hours.

When Severus arrived in the headmaster's office, he found Dumbledore at his desk, surrounded by several large books and pieces of parchment strewn all over the desktop.

"Ah, Severus," said Dumbledore, unsurprised by Severus' abrupt appearance as he glanced up from the book he was perusing. "How is Harry?"

"Not well," Severus replied with a slight shake of his head, "but he is stable at the moment." He started pacing back and forth, using the limited space in front of Dumbledore's desk. "Poppy and I have just healed Harry as he relived another memory. This time, there were multiple lacerations on his back, a few broken ribs, and a mild concussion."

Dumbledore simply nodded, a bit too nonchalantly in Severus' opinion, as the old man reached for the tin of lemon drops and popped one into his mouth.

Severus paused in his pacing and sharply turned to face Dumbledore. "Did you know?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

This was certainly a matter that Severus had been meaning to discuss with Dumbledore ever since his shocking discovery about Harry. Surely, Dumbledore must have noticed some signs of mistreatment and abuse in the last five years, having been somewhat close with the boy. But if he did, why didn't he anything done about it? The blood wards could be a reason, however, Severus found it difficult to believe that Dumbledore couldn't come up with any alternative options to ensure Harry's safety. Especially considering the people that harmed his son the most were also housed under the same protection.

Dumbledore raised a white eyebrow and asked, "Did I know what exactly, Severus?"

"Were you aware of what went on in that house?" Severus bit out impatiently.

Dumbledore gave a heavy sigh, setting his book aside. "I am aware that Harry wasn't loved in that home, but I never knew it went that far. At the time, it was the only place that could keep him safe. The blood protection—"

"I don't give a damn about the blood wards!" Severus snapped, not willing to listen to Dumbledore's poor justification for leaving Harry there. "Did you even have the mind to check on him all these years? He was far from safe under those protections!"

"I had misjudged Petunia and her husband's ill feelings towards magic," said Dumbledore, his blue eyes dimmed.

"She had always been spiteful, and jealous of Lily," said Severus. "What made you think it was good idea to leave Harry in her care?"

"I had hoped she would have settled her feelings on magic to care for her sister's orphaned son."

Severus snorted. "Obviously, she had  not. Otherwise, my son would not have been neglected and mistreated by that fat slob of a Muggle she married."

"I do regret leaving Harry there," Dumbledore admitted softly, and he looked every bit his old age, slumping forward slightly in his chair with a sigh. "I did believe it was for the best."

Severus forced out a breath, then sank into the chair in front of the headmaster's desk with a wary sigh. The anger fueling him was slowly being replaced with a deep exhaustion that began to settle deep into his bones.

"All these years, why didn't anyone notice? Surely, you or Minerva could have seen the signs..."

Or I should have noticed them, Severus finished in his head. He had always prided himself on his observation skills, but they had truly been lacking these last few years whenever it came to Harry.

Dumbledore gave a short nod, clasping his hands together. "Harry was rather adept at concealing it. I am fairly certain he did not even tell his best friends."

Severus wondered about that, remembering the well cast glamour he'd found on his son just a few days ago. "Yes, he had been concealing his old scars and injuries with glamours, and it was only because they had fallen that I found out about abuse," he said. If only he'd known sooner, then perhaps he could have prevented the existence of the more recent scars.

When Dumbledore didn't respond after a few moments, Severus continued, "I intend to visit those Muggles one day to make sure they get what they... rightfully deserve." He gave Dumbledore a look that dared the old man to try and stop him.

"Of course, and I won't prevent you from doing so," Dumbledore said, a spark lighting in his blue eyes. "In fact, I may even accompany you on that visit."

Severus simply inclined his head at that, a bit surprised at that response.

"And I must admit," Dumbledore began, his features softening as a smile appeared on his face. "I am rather surprised, and quite pleased with this change of heart, Severus. It is what Harry needs more than anything right now."

Severus glanced away, unable to hold Dumbledore's gaze when the usual twinkle returned to those piercing blue eyes. He gave a small nod of his head in acknowledgment, not knowing how to respond to that.

His eyes settled on the book Dumbledore had been reading, and Severus was instantly reminded of the current situation they had yet to find the solution to.

"Have you found anything regarding this curse yet?" Severus asked, eyeing the books and parchment.

Dumbledore took the book he had set aside a few moments ago and rotated it so that Severus could read the text. "It is similar to a curse that was used on tortured prisoners, forcing them to constantly relive their most tortured moments until most went insane, or perished due to the combined effects of all the injuries."

Severus leaned forward a bit, his eyes skimming over the text. "And how long does that take?" he asked.

"It varies depending on the person," said Dumbledore. "Harry has experienced many troubling times in his life, in which case, the effects of this curse are more powerful to him."

That was a bit of an understatement. Severus thought Harry had certainly endured far too much for any child his age just from the last few years at Hogwarts alone. His son had somehow survived multiple encounters with the Dark Lord and countless threats to his life, not to mention all those years of abuse he had suffered at the hands of his despicable relatives. It was a miracle that Harry had survived thus far and wasn't more damaged.

But was he reaching his breaking point? Will it soon be too much for his son to handle?

"Is there a counter curse?" Severus asked, shifting his gaze back to Dumbledore.

"There is a spell, that can pause the flow of the memories, long enough for Harry to break free from the curse," Dumbledore said, flipping to the next page with a wave of his hand. "However, I fear that Harry will not be able to break free of the curse by himself. It might be too powerful for his mind to handle, and it will proceed to shut down on itself."

Severus' eyes widened slightly as he glanced through the details of that spell.

If Harry's mind began shutting down, his magical core would soon follow.

And then he would be gone...

Severus resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands, clenching the arms of the chair instead, and shaking his head to clear those thoughts.

No, I would not let that happen.

Severus cleared his throat, then asked, "What do you propose we do, Albus?"

Dumbledore met his gaze, a gleam in his blue eyes. "You will need to enter into Harry's mind again, Severus, and help your son truly break this curse."

Dumbledore had positioned himself at the foot of Harry's bed, his wand at the ready, and Poppy stood opposite Severus on the other side of Harry's bed, ready just in case something went wrong.

Once again, Severus gently opened Harry's eyes and after receiving an affirmative nod from Dumbledore, he looked deeply into those green eyes and muttered the spell.

Severus found himself in that same, distasteful Muggle kitchen, and a loud voice, which he instantly recognized as Dursley's, could be heard echoing off the walls. Harry, who appeared a bit older than before, was curled up on the floor at Dursley's feet, rambling apologies in a futile attempt to appease his abominable uncle. But Dursley continued on, now shouting about how ungrateful freaks don't deserve food, and Severus had to suppress the urge to throttle the man before him.

With great difficulty, Severus turned away, attempting to shove the anger behind his shields and gain back some semblance of control. He needed to focus now. The present day Harry must be around here somewhere...

"Harry?" Severus called, hoping to catch a glimpse of the boy he'd become familiar with somewhere in the room. There was no response.

He searched the room, until he spotted a slight movement in the corner of his eye, something that appeared out of place. There, nearly hidden in the doorway connecting the hallway to the kitchen, was a translucent figure confined within a continuously, swirling dark cloud. Severus took a closer look, and felt a small amount of relief when he confirmed that it was the teenage Harry. Though the relief was short-lived when Severus attempted to get Harry's attention. His son didn't seem to be able to see him at all, entirely fixated on the memory still playing out behind Severus.

There was such an anguished expression on Harry's features, his eyes dull and haunted, that it made Severus' chest tighten. It was the appearance of someone who had suffered too much and was reaching his breaking point.

His sense of urgency increasing, Severus stepped forward, attempting to block Harry's view of his younger self and Dursley before trying to get his attention again.

Then, suddenly, everything around them seemed have stilled and the shouting finally ceased, as if someone had paused time. The memory became misty and out of focus, the colors muted and less vivid.

That must be Dumbledore, momentarily pausing the memories, Severus realized. Now he needed to hurry; there was no telling how long it would last.

The menacing dark cloud surrounding Harry hadn't stopped its swirling, though it did seem to have slowed and appeared slightly less dense than before.

Severus once again tried calling Harry's name.

This time there was a reaction; Harry flinched and his eyes darted back and forth wildly until they landed on Severus. His son didn't seem to immediately recognize him, however, as the boy jumped back, arms raised in a defensive manner.

Severus cautiously reached his hand out and spoke calmly as if trying to tame a wild animal, "Harry, it's... your father."

Harry simply stared at him with wide, fearful eyes, and Severus' heart dropped.

Did Harry not remember him? Was it too late? Was his son too far gone to be saved?

But then, a moment later, something flickered in those green eyes, a gleam of recognition that Severus was relieved to see.

"Sir?" Harry said hesitantly, his voice muffled and faint.

Severus had to strain to hear him; it sounded as if there was a glass barrier separating them. He felt an inexplicable pang at being called sir, but quickly brushed it off, not quite able to understand it at the moment.

"Yes, Harry," Severus confirmed with a nod, attempting to appear calm. "The Dark Lord's curse is forcing you to relive your worst memories. Albus has paused them to allow you time to escape."

Harry didn't respond, still staring at him, seeming unable to believe that Severus was actually there.

"Reach past the clouds, Harry," Severus told him, holding his hand out and beckoning his son to do the same. "Then I can pull you the rest of the way out."

For a long moment, Harry simply stared at his hand, making no move to do so.

"We don't have much time; Albus can only hold the spell for so long," Severus said urgently, in as gentle of a tone as he could manage.

His son glanced up at him, green eyes wary. "Why would you want to help me?" Harry said softly, his voice trembling. "I'm nothing but a burden to everyone and a no good freak..."

Severus' heart clenched hearing the resignation in Harry's voice. "You are none of those things. Do not listen to them," he said with a forced calm, and when Harry looked back towards the still form of Dursley, Severus stepped into his line of sight and extended his hand again. "Come, Harry."

Harry shook his head, clutching his arms around himself. "But I cause so much trouble. Just a worthless little freak that nobody wants," he whispered, nearly too quiet to hear. "I don't want to do this anymore..."

Then, to Severus' horror, Harry seemed to flicker, his body gradually becoming more transparent with each passing moment.

His son was slowly fading away...

"No!" Severus shouted, a bit too harshly than he'd intended as his fear finally spilled over. Harry flinched violently and stepped back, staring at him with wide eyes, before he dropped his gaze.

After taking a steadying breath, Severus attempted to modulate his tone into a calmer one. "Harry— look at me," he said firmly, and when his son finally brought his eyes back up, he continued, "The Dursleys were wrong. You are not a freak and most certainly not a burden."

It wasn't enough; Harry didn't look entirely convinced yet, and Severus had to suppress the increasing panic threatening to overwhelm him as his son continued to fade even more.

"I care about you, Harry, and I certainly... want you as well," Severus said, hoping those words were adequate, because he certainly meant them. He would do whatever it takes to not let Harry slip away.

Harry looked back at him searchingly, as if trying to find any hint of dishonesty. Severus was relieved to see a spark of hope lingering in those green eyes.

"Really?" his son whispered after a moment. He sounded so very young and vulnerable, needing reassurance as if he couldn't quite get himself to trust Severus' words.

"I promise you will not be alone any longer," Severus said with conviction.

And knowing everything that his son had been through, Severus would continue to give reassurances to Harry if need be until the message fully sinks in.

Severus extended his hand again, and this time, Harry only hesitated for a brief moment before slowly reaching forward. As soon as his fingertips made contact with the swirling mass, it crackled and sparked, causing Harry to yelp and stumble back. The clouds seemed to coil tighter around him now, flashing and rumbling like a brewing storm, growing darker, as if it could sense Harry's intentions.

"Quickly, Harry, you have to push through it," Severus encouraged.

Harry gritted his teeth and braced himself as he tried again. This time, he didn't jump back, continuing to push forward despite the many sparks emitted from the clouds shooting up his arm.

"It hurts," Harry said, giving a grimace of pain. He was nearly there, his entire hand almost completely free.

"You can do it. Just a bit more," Severus said, willing his son to keep going.

Once Harry's hand was in reach, Severus grasped it tightly in his own and began pulling the rest of his son through. With a mighty tug, Harry was finally freed from the dark cocoon and fell forward into Severus' arms. The clouds stopped swirling and began to thin into a mist until it dissipated all together a moment later.

Severus wrapped his arms tightly around Harry and held him close, afraid that his son might slip away if he loosened his hold. As soon as the boy went limp in his arms, Severus was abruptly thrust out of Harry's mind.

He stumbled backward and collapsed onto a bed behind him, feeling the last of his strength leave him. Severus turned his head in the direction of his son, watching Poppy perform a diagnostic on him. He wanted to get up and check on Harry himself, to make sure that the curse had completely broken, but he couldn't seem to find the energy to do so.

"It appears to have worked," said Dumbledore.

"Thank Merlin," Poppy replied, drawing the sheets up and tucking them around Harry. "Now they can both get some much needed rest..."

Their voices became muffled as Severus let his eyes slid shut, too heavy to keep open any longer.

It wasn't until the next evening that Severus woke, having slept away his exhaustion from that long day. He was surprised he had slept this long, but considering everything that had happened with that curse and the injuries that Severus had sustained from the brief incident with the Dark Lord, it was no wonder he had been exhausted.

Harry was still asleep and wouldn't wake for a while as his body heals from all the trauma he went through and the injuries he sustained. At least now Severus had the peace of mind that his son was sleeping and no longer suffering from his terrible memories anymore. Severus didn't think he could bear to go through that again, not after the most recent episode.

Now, Severus was seated in a comfortable chair he had conjured beside Harry's bed, determined to stay by his son's side until the boy woke from his much needed slumber. He'd brought a potions journal to fill the time, intending to read up on some new found uses of Valerian roots, but at the moment, he just couldn't quite focus on it. Instead, Severus simply sat there, watching the soothing rise and fall of his son's chest with every breath that he took.

Harry's features were relaxed, with no hints of distress now, making him seem younger than his actual sixteen years. Reaching out, Severus gently brushed the stray strands of hair away from his son's pale forehead, and frowned when he saw the red lightning bolt scar. He lightly traced it with a long finger, his thoughts resting upon everything that his son had suffered through because of it. The first scar in the line of many others that came afterwards. Physically and mentally.

Severus gave a heavy sigh and gently ran a hand through Harry's dark hair.

This was his son.

A boy who had grew up with the cupboard under the stairs as a bedroom, treated by his relatives like despised house elf, starved and beaten, and left to care for himself. One who was also expected to carry the heavy weight of the wizarding world on his much too thin shoulders, a burden that no child should have to bear...

Harry had faced the Dark Lord too many times over the years and each time, he managed to survive by the bares of his teeth. Severus hadn't been informed on all the details regarding Harry's death defying stunts, but from what he'd heard from Albus, his son seemed to just barely make it out alive every time. By sheer dumb luck as Minerva had put it. And after everything that the boy had been through, Severus realized it was going to be a long journey ahead. How much more would his son have to endure before this bloody war reached its conclusion?

Not to mention the consequences of abuse to the degree that Harry had endured, and for so long, wouldn't simply vanish without a trace. Though somehow, with few people that would show him kindness all those years with his relatives, Harry still seemed to maintain Lily's uncommonly kind nature. Albus had been trying to tell him that for years, but Severus' hatred of James had blinded him from noticing and fully acknowledging it.

Of course, Severus wasn't unaware of how he had been treating the boy. All those cutting remarks Severus had spilled onto his son over the last few years came rushing back, bringing a new wave of guilt along with it. He could admit that it was unreasonable and unjustified. It made him sick to his stomach as he thought back to how he contributed to his son's suffering, most likely reinforcing what the Dursley's had constantly led the boy to believe.

He was no better than those bloody Muggles, then.

But no more. Severus vowed to make it up to his son. He would try his best to be what Harry desperately needs. If he was able to, Severus would have gladly endured his son's pains and burdens in the boy's place. Though as much as he wanted to, he could not. The least Severus could do was help ease them, and that's what he planned on doing. Knowing the difficult times ahead, Severus would make damn certain that Harry would never have to struggle through his life's hardships alone ever again.

More than anything, Severus found that he just wanted to see those beautiful green eyes shine brightly again, like Lily's did. To see his son smiling and being like any ordinary teenager would, without a care in the world.

Severus leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

The words he said to Harry echoed in his mind.

I promise you won't be alone anymore.

And he meant it.

Harry came to the next night.

Information slowly registered in his mind as he blinked up at the dark, shadowy ceiling with dim streaks of moonlight painted across it, streaming in through the tall windows. He could feel the warmth of the sheets covering him, and there was a faint aseptic smell that he was all too familiar with.

How did he end up here? What happened?

He tried searching his memories for any clues, but his mind felt strangely muddled and cluttered.

When Harry attempted to sit upright, he couldn't keep a soft groan from escaping past his lips as his body protested the movement. His head was pounding, and his limbs felt much too heavy, as if his bones were now made of lead. Everything hurt; his whole body ached as if he had been trampled by a stampede of hippogriffs. Harry couldn't remember ever being this sore. Not even after one of Uncle Vernon's thrashings did he ache this much.

Suddenly, there was a movement somewhere to Harry's right and he started, unable to immediately identify who it was.

"Harry," a familiar baritone voice said softly as a hand gently landed on his shoulder. Harry couldn't suppress a flinch at the suddenness and recoiled away, nearly falling off the other side of the bed. He gasped at the flare of pain the movement caused.

"It's all right, you're safe."

Harry couldn't exactly see the person, but he certainly knew that voice. It was as if it unlocked something in his mind and the memories began gradually trickling in.

The shopping trip in Diagon Alley... The Death Eater attack... Voldemort torturing his father... Harry trying to stop it... Then watching a spell coming towards him...

All of a sudden, the candles on his nightstand were lit, brightening up the room with a warm glow and drawing Harry from the memories. Relief swept through him when he saw his father standing beside his bed, donning his habitual black robes, appearing completely healed from the last time Harry had seen him.

"Sir," Harry tried to say, but he found that his voice wasn't working. All that came out of his mouth were rasps of air. He tried to wet his chapped lips, but his mouth was too dry and his throat felt raw as if he'd been constantly screaming.

He attempted to rise again, but was stopped when Snape placed a warm hand on his chest and stilled his efforts.

"Careful," his father said, "you are still recovering."

Once Snape was sure that Harry wouldn't try to sit up again, he removed his hand and withdrew his wand from his sleeve. He gave it a slight wave and conjured a few pillows. With his father's help, Harry slowly sat up and settled into a comfortable upright position against the pillows. As Snape was adjusting the sheets, Harry glanced around and noticed a dark cushioned armchair beside his bed with an open book resting face down on it.

Had his father really stayed at his bedside? It reminded Harry of a few days ago when he'd woken up after he had fainted in his father's study, but in all the times that Harry was forced to stay in the infirmary, there was never anyone that stayed at his bedside until he woke. How long had Snape been there?

Right when Harry was about to ask his father what happened, Madam Pomfrey came bustling out from her office, wand in hand.

"Ah, glad to see you're awake Harry," she said, looking relieved as she reached his bedside. Then Madam Pomfrey began waving her wand over him, muttering spells under her breath. As soon as she finished, she asked, "How are you feeling? Any aches or pains?"

"Sore," Harry croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Snape conjured a glass of water and brought it to Harry's lips. Harry sipped the cool liquid gratefully, letting it quench his parched mouth and throat. Once he had drank his fill, his father set the glass on the nightstand, then said, "Now, how are you truly feeling?"

"My heading is pounding and I ache all over," Harry whispered, grimacing as he placed a hand over his eyes. His headache was getting worse.

"That is to be expected, considering all the events that happened a few days ago," his father commented as he dimmed the lights to a more tolerable level, correctly sensing Harry's discomfort.

Harry frowned, furrowing his brows as he removed his hand to stare at his father.

A few days ago? How long had he been asleep?

Just as Harry was about to ask, Madam Pomfrey spoke again.

"I can give you a headache relief potion and a pain reliever for the aches," she said, summoning two small vials of potions that came floating from her office and into her outstretched hand.

Harry attempted to grasp it, but found that his arms were just too sore and shaky to be of any use right now. His father had to hold the vials to his lips as Harry downed the slightly unpleasant potions one after the other, grimacing a little from the aftertaste. The relief in his head was instant, the pounding seemed to diminish to just an annoying throbbing, but the potions seemed to have no effect on the aches throughout his body.

"It's not really working, I'm still quite sore," Harry said, glancing between his father and Madam Pomfrey.

Snape frowned, turning to Madam Pomfrey with a raised eyebrow. "Poppy?"

Pomfrey shook her head and waved her wand over Harry again. "It is perhaps one of the after effects of the curse," she said with a sigh. "Your body went through some serious trauma, but I believe the soreness should wear off in a few days."

Oh, right. The last thing he remembered was a strange purple spell flying towards him... What had Voldemort hit him with?

After a few more moments of fussing over him and telling him to get more rest, Madam Pomfrey retired back to her office, leaving Harry alone with his father once again.

Harry cleared his throat a little before he asked, "What happened, sir?"

Snape sat back down in the armchair and seemed to study him before asking, "What do you remember?"

"I remember our shopping trip in Diagon Alley, then the Death Eater attack and Voldemort was there," Harry recalled. "I think there was a spell that hit me... and I don't really remember anything after that."

His father nodded. "The Dark Lord had cast a rather debilitating memory curse on you."

"Oh," Harry murmured, fidgeting with a loose thread on the blanket.

"It forced you to relive your worst memories."

Steadily, it was now coming back to him. Harry remembered feeling trapped, desperate to escape from the torrent of terrible memories playing in his mind's eye. He couldn't understand it; it was as if he was there, able to feel everything happening in the memories.

"It was like I was stuck in my memories..." Harry said softly. "Like I was actually there..."

"That was one of the effects of the curse," Snape said, as he ran a hand down his face. There was relief in his voice as he murmured, "Thank Merlin, you broke through it."

Harry nodded and proceeded to shove those memories out of his mind. He never wanted to think about them again; having to live through them was enough. There was almost a point where he had wanted to give up, but somehow he could remember hearing his father's voice, encouraging him to break the curse. Harry wasn't sure if it had been just his imagination or if Snape had really been there.

But before Harry could think anymore of it, the scene of his father getting tortured came back to him.

"Are you alright sir?" Harry asked as he studied his father. The man appeared to be fine, but Harry wanted to make sure anyway. He remembered how his father had been collapsed on the ground with a giant gash on his leg. "Were you injured badly?"

Snape seemed a bit surprised at Harry's inquiry before dismissing his concern with a wave of his hand. "I am fine. Madam Pomfrey did an acceptable job of healing me."

Harry was glad that his father didn't get hurt too badly. Though at the time, it definitely didn't seem that way and Harry shuddered slightly at the remembered scene.

Snape sighed, sounding tired, then he rose to his feet again.

"Harry, allow me make this as clear as possible," his father began, his features becoming stern as he came to stand next to Harry's bed. "Never, under any circumstances, attempt something so reckless and foolish again. What were you thinking challenging the Dark Lord like that?"

Harry inwardly winced at his father's rebuke and averted his gaze to his hands on his lap. I guess I wasn't thinking. The only thing that had been on his mind at the time was that he needed to stop his father from being tortured. He just didn't want anyone else to be hurt because of him. His own safety never even crossed his mind.

"You were being tortured," Harry said quietly, "and Voldemort was after me anyway..."

"I am well aware," Snape said. "However, I was handling the situation."

"But—" Harry began, but was immediately cut off.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? The Dark Lord could have easily finished you, not to mention that curse..." Snape said, his tone hard. He forced out a breath, folding his arms across his chest before he continued, "Do you not have any self preservation at all? Always rushing headlong into danger without a second thought; you need to learn to control those impulsive Gryffindor tendencies."

Nothing but trouble... Danger to everyone... 

Harry hung his head and didn't dare look up. He gave a slight nod of his head before whispering, "I'm sorry for causing so much trouble sir."

There was only silence at first, but then, a few moments later, Harry heard his father release another sigh and felt a slight dip on the side of his bed. Thin fingers gently cupped Harry's chin, and a slight pressure from those fingers guided his face up so that his green eyes met his father's dark ones. Harry hesitantly met his gaze, anticipating anger, but instead, he saw a hint of sorrow and concern in them.

"Harry, you do not cause trouble," Snape said firmly, then continued in a more softer tone, "I was just... frightened. However noble your intentions were, it is not something I wish to go through again."

The image of his father's usually fathomless dark eyes containing an uncommon amount of fear flashed into Harry's mind.

His father had been afraid— for him?

It was similar to the concern and fear that parents would show when one of their kids were in danger. Harry had seen it plenty of times, but he never thought he would have someone that did the same for him. He never had anyone that cared whether he got hurt or not. There was a brief moment of warmth filling his chest. It felt good knowing someone was concerned for him, but Harry also couldn't help feeling guilty for causing the man this much worry.

"I could have lost you," his father whispered, almost to himself as he removed his hand from Harry's chin.

Harry swallowed, feeling a rather large lump forming in his throat.

Even though he had just woken up not very long ago, Harry still felt exhausted. He let out a shaky breath, his eyelids suddenly feeling much too heavy.

"Rest now, Harry," Snape said as he lightly patted Harry's leg. Then he swiftly stood and began removing the pillows from behind Harry.

Harry allowed his father to slowly lower him back down again.

"Thank you for staying," he mumbled softly. The word Dad was on the tip of his tongue but he just couldn't bring himself to say it, having never used the word before and unsure of how it would be received.

His father pulled the warm sheets up to his chin and tucked it around him. As Harry let his eyes fall shut, he felt a thin hand gently brushing through his hair, the soothing motion helping him drift further into a dreamless sleep.

The next day when Harry woke up, the first thing he noticed was that his father was no longer sitting beside his bed. Instead, seated in a colorful plush armchair was Professor Dumbledore in equally colorful robes with shooting stars streaking across the fabric.

"Good morning, Harry. So glad to see you awake," Dumbledore greeted with his grandfatherly smile.

"Good morning, Professor," Harry returned, his voice still a bit rough. He glanced around the room and asked, "Where's my— er, where's Professor Snape?"

There was a twinkle in Dumbledore's blue eyes as he gazed at Harry through his half moon spectacles. "Your father said he had something to take care of. He will return shortly," he replied.

Harry nodded as he tested out his limbs. Thankfully, they didn't seem to ache as much as yesterday, but it was still slightly painful to move. He managed to slowly prop himself up with his elbows and settle against the headboard.

"Why was Voldemort at Diagon Alley, sir?" Harry asked, once he got comfortable. Now that Dumbledore was here, Harry hoped to get some answers.

"Ah, I am not sure of his motivations, however, there were other notable places that Voldemort had sent his Death Eaters. There were attacks simultaneously occurring around England," Dumbledore explained, not seeming to mind the change in subject.

"He wanted to know the Prophecy," Harry said. "I tried dueling him to stall him until you arrived."

"Yes, an admirable job if I do say so myself," Dumbledore said, smiling. "However, not the most wise choice."

"Was anyone hurt?" Harry asked warily, remembering when he helped Fred and George during the attack. George had got hit in the leg and Harry wondered if anyone else got injured as well.

"There were a few that had to make a visit to St. Mungos, but nothing too serious. The Aurors did manage to capture a few of the Death Eaters."

"That's good," Harry replied, glad that at least some of them were caught.

Dumbledore nodded, smoothing a hand down his beard.

"I already spoke to Severus about giving you extra defense lessons," said Dumbledore, after a brief moment of silence. "It would be wise to be prepared. Now I am aware that the Occlumency lessons last year were not the most effective..."

That's putting it lightly, Harry thought, recalling those terrible lessons in the dungeons. He had always come out of those lessons with a pounding headache, having had his mind constantly breached.

"However, I am sure that Severus is willing to be more... ah, patient this time," Dumbledore finished with a smile on his aged face, the twinkle present in his eyes.

The Floo flared to life then, and his father stepped out, briefly brushing away the soot before he made his way towards them, his black robes billowing behind him.

"Headmaster," Snape greeted curtly before turning his gaze towards Harry.

"Good morning, Severus," Dumbledore replied, gracefully rising to his feet. "I think I will leave you two be."

With that, they watched the headmaster leave until the great wooden doors swung shut behind him.

"How are you feeling?" his father asked.

"Fine sir," Harry replied.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Anymore aches?"

"Er, not as much as yesterday."

His father nodded, seeming satisfied with that answer. He glanced distastefully at the colorful armchair Dumbledore had left and sharply flicked his wand, returning it to a plain black one, before he took a seat.

"Are you hungry?" Snape asked. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

"Not yet."

His father ordered breakfast from the house elves and once it arrived, they ate together in a relatively comfortable silence.

"Do you know when I can leave, sir?" Harry asked when they finished.

"I believe Poppy said you may leave tomorrow morning," Snape replied, "when the curse's side effects have mostly worn off."

So for the rest of the day, Harry resigned himself to staying in bed. He never liked staying in the hospital wing for too long. Between the boredom and Madam Pomfrey's incessant fussing, Harry had always been more than ready to leave the first chance he got. But this time, he found it wasn't as miserable nor as boring. His father stayed with him the entire time, and had even brought Harry some books to help occupy the time.

Still, when Madam Pomfrey discharged him the next morning, Harry was more than ready to leave.

"This is for the remaining scars, it should be applied every night until they disappear," Madam Pomfrey said as she handed Snape a jar filled with blue salve.

"I know Poppy," his father replied, slipping the jar into his robe pocket.

After receiving strict instructions to rest and refrain from rigorous exercise, Madam Pomfrey finally allowed Harry to leave.

"Shall we return home?" Snape asked, lightly resting a hand on Harry's shoulder.

Home. 

Harry still hadn't considered it home yet, but maybe he would someday. It was still mind boggling to think that he actually had a place he could home, besides Hogwarts.

"Yes sir," Harry replied with a nod.

Snape guided him to the Floo and kept his hand resting on Harry's shoulder as they stepped into the green flames.

It appeared that Kieran and his mother were waiting for them on the other side. As soon as they arrived in his father's study in Prince Manor, Harry was startled when Kieran suddenly launched himself at Snape, wrapping his arms around him. The embrace also seemed to take his father by surprise as well, because Snape stiffened and awkwardly patted Kieran's back instead of returning the gesture. Harry turned away when Kieran smirked at him.

"Why are you two here?" Snape asked, drawing Kieran back and looking towards Clarice. "I thought he was staying with you for the weekend."

Clarice stepped forward and smiled. "Well, Kieran wanted to stay with you, now that you've returned."

Kieran grinned. "I'm so glad you're back Dad."

Snape gave a curt nod, then resettled his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Very well, if you will excuse us, I am going to escort Harry to his room," he said as he began steering Harry out of the study.

Why is he escorting me to my room? Harry wondered. It wasn't as if he forgot how to get there...

Harry gave Snape a confused look, but his father ignored it and just continued on. Deciding to not question it for now, Harry mentally shrugged and allowed Snape to guide him through the corridors. It was a nice change being able to walk beside his father rather than having to practically jog in order to keep up with the man's brisk strides. Then again, maybe it was because Madam Pomfrey had emphasized that Harry needed to not over exert himself until he completely recovered...

Harry was jolted to a stop when Snape suddenly paused, then steered him into a room. It was one of the few fairly large and beautifully decorated rooms in the manor.

"Sir?" Harry turned a questioning look at Snape.

Why did his father take him here? They haven't reached his room yet...

"This is your new room, Harry," Snape announced.

For a moment, Harry just stared up at his father.

What? This was his new— 

Harry glanced around the room, wondering if he had heard correctly.

His father was giving him this room?

"Really?" Harry breathed, barely able to process it. "You're giving me— This is really my room now?"

Snape inclined his head. "I have already taken the liberty of instructing the house elves to relocate your possessions," he said, indicating Harry's trunk that was already at the foot of the four poster bed.

"You didn't have to sir," Harry said, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "The other room was fine."

His father gave a small shake of his head. "I do not want you staying at the other end of the manor while you are recovering."

Harry supposed that was a significant reason for having him move into this room. It was so that Snape could keep a closer eye on Harry while he recovered.

"It's quite a nice room, sir," Harry said, taking in the room.

Warm sunlight streamed in through the wide window overlooking the extensive back garden, framed by long beige curtains. Light green and beige throw pillows and cushions lined the window alcove where Harry could sit and gaze outside. The large four poster bed had a warm beige bedspread with light green curtains draped on the sides. At the other end of the room, a sofa stood facing an unlit fireplace, accompanied by two armchairs on either side, providing a comfortable seating area.

It was certainly a significant upgrade from the room he had before. Definitely larger than any room he'd ever had. Or ever dreamed of having.

"The items I confiscated a few days ago have been returned to your trunk," his father told him, from where he was leaning against the desk. Then he gave Harry a stern look. "However, I better not catch you sneaking about in the middle of the night with that cloak."

Harry nodded, then knelt in front of his trunk and couldn't help giving a small smile when he opened it, finding the invisibility cloak and his Firebolt back where it belonged. After a moment, he shut his trunk and stood back up, facing his father. Snape didn't have to give him a new room, especially after his father had already bought Harry new school supplies and a whole new wardrobe that nearly cost a small fortune. Harry had an inexplicable urge to hug the man, but refrained from doing so, knowing that Snape surely wouldn't like that.

Instead, Harry grinned and said sincerely, "Thank you, sir. It's brilliant."

There was a brief upturn of his father's lips, and Harry supposed that was the closest thing to a smile he was going to see. He would have missed it if he wasn't watching close enough.

"No need to thank me," his father replied, waving a hand dismissively. "The room should have been your's when you first arrived."

Then Snape straightened and began making his way out.

"You should get some rest before lunch," his father said before he disappeared out the door.

A half hour later, Harry was sitting on the window alcove, basking in the warmth of the sunlight gently streaming in from the broad windows. He had explored the room some more before settling down. It was a lot to take in and he had a hard time wrapping his mind around everything that happened recently. From the time he received his mother's letter and finding out the truth to now actually living with his father... Maybe it was just some twisted dream his mind had conjured up and he would wake up any day now back at the Dursleys... Whatever it was, Harry was going to make the most of it. Nothing lasted forever and that seemed to hold especially true for Harry.

A light tapping drew Harry from his thoughts and he looked up to see his snowy owl pecking at the glass above him.

"Hedwig!" Harry pushed the window open to let Hedwig in. Once she was inside, Hedwig fluttered over to his desk and landed, holding her leg out for Harry to untie two letters and a small brown package. Harry did so, then went to his trunk to fish out an owl treat and fed it to her. She hooted her thanks and happily nipped his fingers afterwards.

Harry then turned his attention to the two letters. One had his name written in Ron's messy scrawl while the other was in Hermione's neat loopy handwriting.

What would they think of him being Snape's son? Do they already know?

After a moments hesitation, Harry decided to open Ron's letter first.

Dear Harry,

Bloody hell mate, Dumbledore came by and told us about the attack at Diagon Alley. Fred and George said they saw you and that you helped them against four Death Eaters too. How did you just so happen to be in Diagon Alley when he attacked? Do you reckon' he knew you were there? Fred and George also mentioned that you didn't look like yourself. They said you reminded them of someone, but they couldn't think of who. Anyways, Dumbledore said you were fine but he wouldn't tell us where you're staying. Said something about it not being his information to tell and that you should be the one to tell us. What is it mate? Does it have anything to do with why you suddenly look different?

Hermione's been staying with us and was going mad about our OWL results. She had been a nervous wreck waiting for them to arrive. Have you gotten yours yet? No need to tell you what Hermione got of course. It's rather obvious. I only failed in Divination and History of Magic, but who really cares about those subjects right? 

So where are you Harry? I hope wherever it is, it's better than at the Dursley's.

Hope you can visit us soon.

Ron

Harry reread the letter again before setting it down on his desk.

So his friends didn't know yet. Dumbledore didn't tell them. Harry supposed that was a good thing because he would need to tell them himself, though he wasn't particularly looking forward to seeing their reactions.

Harry opened Hermione's letter next.

Dear Harry,

I heard about the attack and I'm so glad you're all right. Ron was speculating on where you are after Dumbledore visited to inform us about what happened in Diagon Alley. Quite frankly I just hope that wherever you are right now, you are safe. 

After everything that happened at the end of last year, I hope you're doing all right. I know Sirius meant a lot to you and I've been worried about how you were coping. So I sent a journal for you to write your thoughts in, if anything is bothering you and you don't have anyone to talk to. It's not healthy to keep everything bottled in, Harry. I've also charmed it so that it can't be read by anyone else unless you wanted them to. It would appear as school notes for anyone who tries to read it. 

Hope to see you soon,

Hermione

Harry took the small package and unwrapped it, revealing a red leather journal with his initials engraved at the bottom right corner. He flipped through it once then set it down on his desk. He didn't know if he would ever use it, but he would still thank Hermione for it later.

Glancing at the time, Harry decided he should start heading down for lunch. He planned to write back to his friends afterwards.

Just as he was approaching his father's study, Harry caught snippets of two voices arguing through the slightly ajar door. It was his father and Kieran's mother, and his father sounded quite angry. Harry wondered what they could be arguing about.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Harry quietly leaned against the wall beside the door, and listened.

After getting Harry settled in his new room, Severus had returned to his study, hoping to finish a bit of work that was left forgotten the last few days. Usually by this time in the summer, he would have already completed his lesson plans for the upcoming school year and would now be finishing the last batches of potions for the infirmary. Though granted, this summer had been vastly different to the many before. And with all the distractions, Severus hadn't even started on his brewing as of yet.

As soon as Severus settled at his desk to begin working, Kieran peered in, asking if Severus would go flying with him. He had declined Kieran's request and told the boy he was free to fly by himself as long as he stayed within the wards. Apparently, it had been the wrong answer, because Kieran started whining, practically begging him, and nothing aggravated Severus more than such childish, impudent behavior. With a pointed glare, Severus threatened to confiscate his broom and send him to his room if he didn't cease this insufferable attitude. That seemed to quiet Kieran, though the boy didn't immediately storm out of the room like Severus anticipated. Instead, Kieran crossed his arms and defiantly stayed rooted to the spot for several moments until he seemed to realize that Severus wasn't going to budge. Then finally, with some indistinct mumbling under his breath, Kieran petulantly stomped out of Severus' study.

And it wasn't long after Kieran had left that Severus' work was disrupted for the second time. There was a sharp rap at the door, and without waiting for an answer, Clarice let herself in and took a seat in the chair facing his desk.

Severus inwardly groaned. Now what?

This was definitely not how he'd envisioned spending his morning back.

Severus didn't glance up from his work until Clarice shifted in her seat and loudly cleared her throat.

"Can I help you, Clarice?" Severus asked after giving an exasperated sigh.

"Kieran seemed upset after speaking to you," said Clarice. "He said he wanted to go flying with you."

"He did," Severus replied, lowering his quill, "but I am quite busy at the moment and Kieran needs to realize that throwing an insolent temper tantrum will not allow him to get what he wants."

Clarice frowned. "He just wants to spend time with his father, Severus," she said, leaning forward in her chair. "You do realize you have been gone for the past couple of days?"

"I am aware, yes, and am behind on my work as is, so if you don't mind..." Severus said as he returned his attention to the piece of parchment in front of him, hoping she'd take the hint.

But of course, she did not.

Somehow, a moment later, Clarice was on her feet and had made her way around his desk to come stand behind him. Her thin hands landed on his shoulders, and Severus stiffened at the sudden contact.

"You're so stiff, Severus," Clarice commented, beginning to knead circles into his tense shoulders. "It seems ever since that boy arrived, you have been so tense. I can't believe you're still allowing him to stay in your home after everything he put you through."

Not this again. Severus gritted his teeth and roughly pushed his chair back with a loud screech, startling her in the process.

"Of course I would let him stay. In case you have forgotten, he is also my son," Severus said, and in one smooth motion, he sidestepped out of her reach and moved to the other side of his desk.

Clarice frowned, arms folded across her chest. "Do you not care about our safety? For Kieran—our son's— safety?"

"Course I do," Severus bit out, "as equally as I do Harry's."

And as expected, Clarice opened her mouth to no doubt respond with something disagreeable, but Severus cut her off before she could.

"Do not start— we are not having this conversation again."

Clarice's lips thinned into slits. "I wasn't finished speaking with you the last time before you abruptly left."

"There were more important matters that needed my attention."

"Oh, so Kieran's not as important as him."

"I never said that— do not put words into my mouth," Severus snarled, clutching the back of the chair that Clarice had vacated a bit too tightly.

"But you implied it," she said, gesturing a hand towards him. "You are acting like everyone else now—"

"Kieran was fine before I left, I had made sure of it, and he wasn't the one suffering from a curse in the hospital wing," Severus interrupted in a dangerously low tone, his tolerance with the woman wearing thin.

There was something that changed in Clarice's eyes at that, but Severus couldn't distinguish anything from it before the look was gone a second later. Clarice made a disparaging noise then, and rolled her eyes. "Honestly Severus, the boy is too much trouble for what he's worth. I don't understand why everyone seems to think he's capable of defeating You-Know-Who."

Severus pinched the bridge of his noise, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming between his eyes. "I do not care how dangerous you think Harry is, he is still my son, and therefore, will always have a home with me."

Clarice's blue eyes flashed. "Don't you think he's putting too much strain on your life?" she asked, her voice rising as she continued. "You told me before how Dumbledore forced you to watch after him, even with all the mischief he got up to over the years. I think you deserve a break. Let Dumbledore handle the boy and the war."

"I have played a vital part in this war and I intend on seeing it through to the end," Severus said, wishing she would give it a rest already.

It wasn't Harry's fault that he had been thrust into this war as a baby and now was expected to carry the weight of the wizarding world on his much too thin shoulders. A burden that was much too heavy for any person to bear let alone a child, especially a child who had endured so much already before he had even stepped foot into Hogwarts. And after the events of the last few years, Severus wasn't about to let his son face anymore of this war alone.

A brief moment of silence passed before Clarice spoke again, her tone more calm this time. "Lily's gone Severus, perhaps it's about time you moved on with your life."

Severus sent her a smoldering glare, hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Not until my son— mine and Lily's— is out of harms way."

"You have a family now, Severus!" said Clarice, taking a few steps towards him. "Have you ever thought about how Kieran would feel if something happened to you?"

"Enough!" Severus snapped, slamming his palms on his desk. He noticed Clarice flinch almost imperceptibly and take a small step back. "If you feel so unsafe here, as you have been claiming, you are more than welcome to leave. Harry is staying, whether you like it or not."

For a moment, Clarice appeared shocked. She opened her mouth to respond, but then she snapped it shut a second later, seeming to decide against it. Instead, she sighed and gave a curt nod at Severus' words.

Severus gave her a pointed look. "This is my home. You will do well to remember that."

With a short glance at the clock on his mantelpiece, Severus realized it was time for lunch. And as he was thoroughly finished with this conversation, Severus swept out of his study without a backwards glance and headed towards the kitchen.

Lunch was a rather tense affair, though Kieran didn't seem to mind much. Apparently, the boy wasn't aware of the tension between his parents, or he was simply ignoring it, as he decided to tell Severus of everything he did the last few days. Severus ended up only half listening to it all, his main focus on Harry.

Severus noticed that the boy was back to picking at his food with a deep frown on his face, taking a few bites here and there but not really appearing as if he had any appetite.

Maybe he was simply tired? He was still recovering after all...

But then Severus' thoughts went back to earlier, to how delighted Harry had been when Severus had given him his new room. It hadn't been Severus' intention to spoil the boy, but then again, maybe Harry deserved to be spoiled for once. The way his son's eye's lit up and his smile that could brighten an entire room was more than worth it. Severus hoped to see that expression more often from now on.

At the moment, however, it was such a vast contrast to how the boy looked now. Harry was certainly troubled by something. But what had changed between then and now? How did the boy go from seeming content to depressed in the matter of an hour? As Severus discreetly studied his son, he wondered why Harry would sometimes glance back and forth between himself and Clarice before hastily returning his gaze to his own plate. Determined to understand this abrupt change in demeanor, Severus resolved to speak to the boy later, hoping Harry would reveal what was troubling him.

"May I please be excused, sir?" Harry asked softly, setting his fork down. "I don't think I can eat anymore..."

Severus supposed he could allow it just this once. He would have to make sure the boy ate more during dinner.

"Yes, you may, after you drink the rest of your pumpkin juice," Severus said. A nutrients potion had been mixed into it by the house elves this morning as instructed by Severus. The boy was currently far too thin and certainly needed all the supplemental nutrients he could get.

Harry wordlessly obeyed, draining the rest of his goblet before quietly leaving the room.

A few hours later, Harry was resting on his bed, staring up at the top of his four poster bed. The conversation between his father and Kieran's mother was still playing through his mind. His heart had warmed at hearing his father defending him, but he also couldn't help seeing the truth in her statements. At least now he could understand why the woman seemed to hate him so much. It was a known fact how dangerous he was to everyone around him, just look at all the people that had been hurt because of him. Harry was a walking magnet for trouble, and he couldn't blame them for not wanting him around.

And Harry certainly didn't want to cause his father more trouble than he already had, seeing as the man had done more for him than anyone else ever did before. His father had bought him new clothes and school supplies, even giving him a new room on top of that. All of which Snape didn't have to do, but he still did.

I don't deserve it...

All Harry had done was cause more trouble for the man.

And perhaps Snape did want a family with Kieran's mother— was Harry in the way of that? It did appear as if they fancied each other during the trip in Diagon Alley. He remembered how much the three looked like a proper family.

And I'm just the burden again...

Harry sighed, shaking his head, trying to divert his train of thought away from the depressing track it was heading down.

Looking towards his desk at the letters from his friends, Harry remembered that he still needed to respond to them. He slid off his bed and took a seat at his desk, picking up his quill and reaching for a blank sheet of parchment. For a long moment, he simply stared down at it, wondering how he should begin. He wasn't sure how to tell them, but mostly he was dreading their reactions. Hermione, Harry could see being understanding, but Ron could be quite stubborn at times. Harry remembered the row they had in fourth year and how long that had lasted. Would Ron still want to be his friend after he knows the truth about Harry actually being Snape's son?

"Hey Potter—"

Harry spun around in his chair, just in time to see Kieran fall back and land unceremoniously on his backside with a surprised oof.

He wondered what had even happened. There wasn't anything in the doorway that Harry could see; it was as if Kieran had run into thin air.

Kieran scrambled to his feet and reached a hand out, as if trying to feel for a secret entrance into the room.

It was as if an invisible wall was placed in his doorway, and looking closely, Harry could now make out what appeared to be some sort of a shimmery, translucent curtain. It was nearly imperceptible if he didn't look hard enough. Kieran soon placed both hands on the barrier and slammed his palms against it, as if he thought the curtain would shatter if he hit hard enough.

"What the—?"

"Kieran, what are you doing?"

Kieran immediately stopped, turning towards the sound of their father's distinct voice coming down the corridor.

"I was just wondering why I can't go into Potter's room," Kieran said as Snape approached.

His father raised an eyebrow at him, and without a word, proceeded to walk straight into Harry's room, unaffected by the barrier that was preventing Kieran from doing the same. Kieran appeared surprised at that and tried following but was still unable to enter.

"It's warded," Snape said simply, smirking at Kieran's confused expression.

"Why?"

"I believe it's rather obvious," his father said. "Now that your rooms are quite close to one another, I do not want you bothering Harry while he recovers."

Harry was glad that his father implemented wards to keep Kieran out, knowing that Kieran would visit him often just to mess with Harry whenever he could. He definitely didn't want to deal with that everyday.

Kieran appeared affronted. "I don't bother him," he said indignantly, crossing his arms.

"Really?" Snape drawled. "Then what is your reason for wanting to enter Harry's room now?"

"I just wanted to see his new room," Kieran said innocently with a shrug.

"You have a perfectly adequate view from the corridor," his father said dryly.

Kieran huffed, pressing a hand against the wards again. "Dad—" he began to protest, but Snape quickly cut him off.

"It is getting late, I suggest you return to your own room, Kieran."

"But—"

"Go," his father said sternly.

For a moment, Kieran stayed, glaring defiantly at Snape until he could no longer hold his father's intense gaze

"Fine," he muttered, turning and storming off down the corridor.

Once they could no longer hear Kieran anymore, Snape turned his attention to Harry.

"Are you all right?" his father asked, making his way toward him, his dark eyes studying him.

Harry just nodded, a bit uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

"You didn't eat much of your lunch," Snape said, leaning against Harry's bed frame.

Harry shrugged. "I wasn't really hungry."

"Are you feeling ill?" his father asked, gently placing a warm hand against Harry's forehead, a hint of concern showing on his features.

"I'm fine," Harry replied, surprised by the gesture.

His father nodded, then extracted a jar of purple salve from one of his robe pockets, one that Madam Pomfrey had given him this morning.

"Remove your shirt off and lay on your stomach," Snape said. "I need to apply this salve to the scars on your back."

Harry did as he was told, shivering slightly as he pulled his shirt up over his head. Then he laid down on his bed and rested his head on his folded arms, turning so that he could still see glimpses of his father while the salve was applied.

"The scars are healing nicely," Snape murmured from above him, his fingers rubbing the salve gently onto his back. Harry could feel a cold tingly sensation from where the salve was doing its magic.

Once his father had finished applying the salve, Harry pulled his shirt back on and sat up leaning against the headboard.

Snape took a seat in Harry's desk chair. "Now, I'm sure Professor Dumbledore has informed you about the extra defense lessons you will have with me, however, considering you still need to recover and regain some strength before you can start using magic, I suggest we begin your potions lessons in the meantime."

Harry had almost forgotten about those lessons and couldn't help feeling a bit anxious about them. The last time Harry had a lesson with Snape, the man had hated him. Harry was still uncertain about his potion brewing abilities, but after studying and reading more about the subject this summer, he found his interest in it had definitely increased from before. At least here, Harry wouldn't have to worry about someone chucking things into his cauldron when his back was turned.

"Something is troubling you," his father said suddenly, breaking Harry out of his thoughts and catching him off guard. "What is it, Harry?"

"Er— nothing, I'm fine," said Harry, shifting uncomfortably a bit, feeling his father's dark eyes watching him. He didn't think it was a good idea to tell Snape that he'd eavesdropped on his private conversation with Clarice. And the other worries Harry had were nothing that he couldn't handle himself.

Snape frowned, appearing unconvinced. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Harry answered.

His father gave a slight sigh before saying, "Very well. Do you need some Dreamless Sleep for tonight?"

"I think I'll be fine without it," Harry said, sounding more sure than he felt.

Snape gave him a long look before he nodded. "Do not hesitate to come to me if you need anything, Harry," his father said as he stood and pushed the desk chair back into place.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, giving the tiniest of smiles. He couldn't really describe the feelings running through him at the moment. He'd never had anyone that would notice if something was bothering him and actually cared enough to ask, besides Ron and Hermione.

The next morning after breakfast, Kieran was glaring at him, as usual.

"It's not fair!" Kieran complained to Snape. "Why can't I join in the potions lesson too?"

"I have already told you," his father said impatiently. "The potion we are brewing today is too advanced for your skill level."

"But you know I'm good at potions!"

"It's a potion I will teach you when become a fifth year student."

"You can teach me now!" said Kieran. "I can handle it!"

"That's enough, Kieran," Snape said firmly. "We are finished discussing this. I suggest you start your summer assignments, and I better not find you lazying about."

His father then turned to Harry. "Come along, Harry," he said before sweeping out of the room.

Kieran didn't say anything more, aiming a very Snape-like scowl at Harry as Harry made to follow his father.

Once they arrived in Snape's potions lab, Harry drew in a deep breath, hoping to settle his nerves. He wanted to do well and show his father that he was capable of successfully brewing a potion, something which he'd never had the chance to do in potion classes.

Glancing at all the tools and ingredients laid out on the tabletop, Harry realized they were going to be brewing Calming Draughts.

"This lesson will be focused on Calming Draughts," his father said, slipping easily into his professor voice. "I believe you are already familiar with this brew as it was already covered in fifth year?"

At Harry's nod, Snape continued, "Can you tell me what the three main ingredients of this potion are?"

"Er... Valerian roots, lavender sprigs and... three drops of honeywater," Harry answered.

His father nodded. "Correct."

After a few rounds of questions about the properties of the ingredients, his father let him begin the potion. As Harry was pulverizing the lavender sprigs, he noticed that Snape seemed to be brewing the same potion beside him, with three cauldrons bubbling simultaneously. His father was working over all three, moving between each one as he stirred, added ingredients, and chanted spells with such perfect speed and precision and concentration that Harry was awed by it. He didn't think he would ever be able to do that with potions, even if he worked on them for a thousand years. Harry could barely manage one cauldron at a time, let alone three at once.

"Harry."

Harry froze, his knife hovering above the Valerian root he was dicing, expecting the man to begin criticizing him like he so often did in class. To his surprise, his father began patiently correcting him instead.

"In order for the potion to maintain maximal potency, the ingredients must be prepared properly. Dice the roots into equally sized pieces," Snape said, demonstrating the proper technique, his movements smooth and precise as he chopped up a Valerian root into similar sized cubes.

"Like this?" Harry asked, doing his best to mimic his father's technique. He found that this way did make it easier to slice the roots evenly.

"Precisely," Snape said, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards slightly, before he returned his attention to his bubbling cauldrons.

Harry smiled as he finished up with the roots. As the lesson went on, the tension he'd previously felt, along with his anxiousness, seemed to have eased considerably now that he knew Snape wasn't about to suddenly belittle him. There was no doubt that his father was very knowledgable and passionate about this subject, and Harry came to realize that the man could make a good teacher if he didn't breath down the students' necks all the time in class. Though Harry could understand the strictness to which Snape oversees his classes as a little mistake made by a careless student could cause an explosion, leading to deadly consequences.

He had become so lost in his thoughts that he failed to notice he was about to skip an important step. As Harry was making to drop the Mugwort into his cauldron, a sharp voice startled him and he violently flinched back when he saw a raised hand in his periphery.

And suddenly, the potions lab had vanished, replaced by the Dursley's pristine Muggle kitchen and Uncle Vernon's loud bantering ringing in his ears. The man was hovering over him menacingly, clutching a leather belt in his meaty hand about to strike its target. Harry shut his eyes and shrunk back, raising his arms up in an attempt to shield himself, waiting for the inevitable blow... but it never came.

Harry blinked, slowly lowering his arms. The room had reverted back to Snape's lab, and Harry realized that he had fallen down onto the floor. He glanced up and saw his father with his hand still up, staring down at Harry with shock.

"I would never hit you," his father said softly, lowering his hand slowly. There was a hint of sadness in his dark eyes.

"S-sorry, it just was a reflex," Harry said lamely, flushing a bit as he quickly got to his feet and righted his fallen stool. "I know you would never hurt me."

He chided himself for overreacting like that. Of course Harry knew his father would never hurt him.

His father sighed and muttered something under his breath that sounded like despicable muggles, before the man composed himself and gestured at Harry's cauldron.

"Do you realize that, had you added the Mugwort before the Valerian roots, the Mugwort would have caused a rather powerful chemical reaction without the Valerian to neutralize it?" Snape asked sternly.

Harry's heart sank. "Sorry sir, I got distracted," he said quietly, not looking at his father. Surely there wasn't any chance that Snape was going to let him into his N.E.W.T class now.

A hand landed lightly on his shoulder a moment later, and Harry hesitantly raised his eyes to meet his father's.

"Well, no harm done this time," Snape said calmly, surprising Harry. "Perhaps you should pay more attention to what you are doing."

Harry just barely stopped himself from gaping at him. Why was Snape not telling him off for being so careless? Why was the man being so calm when Harry had nearly blown up his cauldron?

"Continue with your potion," his father told him, returning back to his own station.

Harry nodded, turning back to his cauldron. He attempted to push that mishap out of his mind and made sure not let his thoughts wander this time.

The rest of the lesson finished smoothly and once Harry had completed his potion, he watched nervously, biting his lip and absently fidgeting with a loose thread on his trousers as his father took a stirrer and closely examined the concoction. He felt a bit more confident in his creation than he usually did in potions classes, but he knew Snape was very difficult to please. Harry thought his potion looked to be the correct color... but did it have the right consistency... or what about the—

Snape set the stirrer down and Harry held his breath, waiting for the verdict.

"Well done, Harry," Snape said, a rare pleased look crossing his father's features. "Your potion is of nearly perfect quality."

It took a while for his father's words to fully register in his mind, and when they finally did, Harry felt that unfamiliar warmth in his chest.

He couldn't help the bright smile that appeared on his face as he said, "Thank you, sir."

Over the next few days, Harry soon settled into a routine. Every day after breakfast, he would have a potions lesson with his father until lunch. Snape was now covering more advanced potions that Harry would be brewing in his sixth year, and his father was even allowing Harry to help him brew potions for the infirmary. Harry looked forward to these lessons every morning now. He found that it was a rather relaxing activity, and it was nice getting to spend time with his father, even if they were just brewing together in silence.

The rest of the day, Harry spent the time in his room, away from Kieran and his mother. Thankfully, Kieran ignored him most of the time which Harry was grateful for, due to the wards his father had erected on his door. There were moments where Kieran tried provoking him, but Harry looked the other way, not rising to his bait. Sometimes from his window, Harry would see Snape and Kieran flying outside together on their brooms while Clarice watched from the ground. Harry wasn't permitted to fly until he had recovered enough and gained some weight first, but still, he couldn't help the sense of longing every time he saw them. He would force himself to look away and refocus on the book in front of him.

His father had given him some interesting books from the library and Harry couldn't help staying up later than usual, reading them. If Hermione were here, she would be quite impressed to see how much Harry had been studying this summer and how much he had learned. And after many hours spent considering how to answer his friends' letters, Harry had finally written back. He had made sure let them know that he was fine after revealing the news. Now he was just waiting for their responses, a bit anxiously.

His nightmares have also returned, but he thought they weren't that bad. He could usually wake himself up before he started screaming and waking up the whole manor. The days would leave him exhausted, but his mind wouldn't grant him the rest his body needed. Harry didn't want to ask his father for Dreamless Sleep as he knew he couldn't rely on the potion every night. It was just something Harry would have to manage himself, like he'd always had. It was nothing to bother his father about.

One night though, Harry woke up with a strangled gasp, breathing heavily. The nightmare was still vivid in his mind as he drew in deep breaths, attempting to keep his rapidly pounding heart from bursting out of his chest. He pushed the sheets away and slowly slid out of bed, realizing that he was covered in a cold sweat and needed to go change.

He definitely wasn't planning on going back to sleep anytime soon, even though it was only two in the morning.

Wanting to grab a few more books from the library to help get his mind off the nightmare, Harry tiptoed his way quietly through the manor. As he was edging past his father's bedroom, Harry had an inexplicable urge to wake the man up and tell him about his nightmare. He couldn't comprehend where it came from, and before he knew it, his hand was already in a fist, an inch away from his father's door...

Right as he was about to knock, Harry froze.

What was he doing?

It was just another silly nightmare...

Surely, Snape wouldn't appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night all because Harry had a stupid nightmare.

Shaking his head, Harry hastily backed away from the door and continued silently on his way to the library.

This cannot go on any longer, Severus decided, as he glanced over at Harry currently brewing across the table from him.

It had been nearly two weeks since that Diagon Alley incident and Harry had been much too quiet and reserved, always keeping to himself in his room after these potions lessons and only venturing out for meals. It was as though his son was doing his best to be invisible, which greatly disturbed Severus to think that Harry felt the need to stay hidden in his room all day. Every time Severus checked up on him, his son would reply with the same short, infuriating response: I'm fine. Obviously, he was not. It was rather frustrating, but Severus knew that was stemming from his concern for the boy. He certainly didn't want to force Harry to speak about his problems when he wasn't ready, but he'd let this go on for too long.

"Dad?" a voice called, snapping Severus out of his thoughts.

"What is it now, Kieran?" Severus asked, turning his attention towards him.

"Can you come look at my potion?" Kieran asked, scooping a small amount of potion up with his ladle. "I think I may have added too many drops of Horklump juice."

Severus inwardly sighed, charming his stirrer to finish stirring his potion for him before making his way over to Kieran's side. This was the third time Kieran had called him over since they'd begun brewing. The boy had been begging Severus to let him join in these sessions, and Severus had finally relented today. Just for today though. Normally, Severus would have Harry in the lab with him after breakfast and then it would be Kieran's turn after lunch, or more often, Severus would spend some time flying with the boy instead.

It didn't escape his notice that Kieran had become increasingly clingy recently. The boy had taken to being with Severus almost constantly. Even when Severus worked in his study, Kieran would settle on the settee, working on his summer assignments or just reading a book he'd picked out from the library, which was strange considering Severus had never seen his son being so studious before.

Severus hadn't really thought much of it until now. Then again, between the work that he must complete before term begins to the usually separate potions sessions with his two sons, Severus rarely had time for anything else these last several days.

"Did you have a difficult time understanding the instructions?" Severus asked, peering down into the boy's cauldron. The potion was a murky brown, far from the dark blue it was supposed to be at this point. He raised an eyebrow at Kieran. "I believe the recipe calls for three drops."

"I know— I just accidentally added a few too many," said Kieran with a shrug of his shoulders.

"You need to pay more attention to what you're doing, Kieran," Severus chided, taking a stirrer and examining the potion more closely. "Fortunately, the potion is still salvageable... Tell me, what would you need to add in order to counteract the extra drops of Horklump juice?"

Kieran tapped his fingertips on the tabletop in a rhythmic pattern, brows drawn together in thought. Before his son could answer, however, Severus heard a loud sizzling noise— he whirled around and saw Harry backing away from his overflowing cauldron, the potion bubbling menacingly. With a quick draw of his wand, Severus cast a shield charm around the cauldron just in time to contain the imminent explosion.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Severus asked, immediately making his way over to his son.

Harry blinked and gave a short nod. "I'm sorry sir, I added too much Valerian root powder," he said, frowning down at the remnants of his potion. He sighed tiredly, running a hand down his face. "I really didn't mean to ruin the potion."

"It is no matter," Severus replied lightly, vanishing the ruined potion with a flick of his wand.

After taking a closer look at the boy, Severus knew there was definitely something wrong. This was just unlike him. Harry had brewed this potion perfectly just a few days ago. He had been making remarkable progress recently, showing a hidden talent for potion making and even displaying genuine interest in the subject as well, which was rare in most of the students he taught. Severus had come to realize that these lessons were the only time that Harry appeared to be content and mostly at ease. It never failed to make Severus' chest burst with pride whenever Harry's diligence resulted in a perfectly completed potion. His son definitely had potential that he didn't show— or wasn't allowed to show— in class before, and Severus had felt a pang of guilt, knowing very well who's fault that was.

But today, something just seemed off...

Was his son not getting enough rest? Was he still having nightmares?

Severus noted the slightly slumped shoulders, and the weary, distant look in those green eyes.

"You seem distracted today," he commented. "Is there something on your mind?"

Harry gave him a long look before shaking his head. "It's nothing. I suppose I'm just a bit tired today."

That was definitely an understatement, Severus thought, the boy clearly appeared more than just a bit tired. The faint dark circles beginning to form beneath his eyes certainly indicated otherwise.

"Have you been getting enough sleep?" Severus asked quietly, so that only Harry could hear. "Any nightmares?"

His son stiffened. "No, sir. I'm fine."

Severus frowned. "Are you certain?"

Harry just nodded.

No, his son was most certainly not fine, but Severus wasn't going to let it go this time.

He made a mental note to speak with the boy later today.

Harry pushed his lunch around his plate, occasionally taking a bite here and there, but not really having much of an appetite. Distantly, he could hear Kieran and Clarice talking, though he could care less what they were saying.

He was bloody exhausted.

Especially after last night, Harry didn't think he had managed to sleep at all. It seemed every time he closed his eyes, the nightmares would begin, wreaking havoc on his mind, and he'd jolt him awake again. He had given up trying to fall asleep altogether after that last one. He'd felt a twinge in his scar, but it only lasted for a few seconds so he didn't think much of it. He was used to the pains from his scar by now anyway. But these sleepless nights were taking a toll on him, especially considering he had mucked up his potion today. The first potion he had ruined since they started these lessons.

Maybe he should ask his father for a Dreamless sleep tonight...

But his father had been rather busy lately, and shouldn't be needlessly bothered by Harry having silly nightmares.

"Our annual trip to France is coming up, Severus," he heard Clarice saying. "You have agreed to join us."

Harry glanced up at that, wondering what she was talking about. They're going on a trip?

His father shook his head. "I'm afraid I won't be in attendance."

"But dad, you promised you would go!" Kieran said, sounding rather disappointed.

"I believe I said I would consider it," said Snape.

"Why can't you come with us?" said Kieran, frowning at his father. "It's supposed to be our first vacation together."

"If this is about the boy, you can always leave him with Dumbledore," Clarice said, her icy blue eyes flickering towards Harry before they settled back on Snape. "Why let him ruin our family vacation?"

Harry glanced hesitantly at his father, the conversation quickly reminding him of when the Dursleys would discuss what to do with the boy while they were away on their family vacations. They never minded where he was left at, as long as he was out of their way.

"I plan on continuing my lessons with Harry. He is my son, after all," Snape said, his dark eyes flashing. "And I would rather not waste my time on a pointless vacation when there are more important matters at present."

"It's not a pointless vacation, Severus," Clarice said, looking affronted. "It is an annual tradition that Kieran and I visit our extended family every year before the start of term. You are supposed to come along and meet them."

"Perhaps next year then," his father said dismissively. "Go ahead without me."

"Be reasonable Severus—" Clarice began, seeming unable to accept his decision. "You have been teaching the boy every day for the past week, don't you think you need a break from it all before having to teach classes again?" She paused, expecting a response, but when Snape didn't offer one, she continued, "I'm sure Dumbledore wouldn't mind taking over and relieving your burdens—"

"Enough!" Snape snapped, startling both Harry and Kieran. "I believe you have overstayed your welcome, Clarice."

Her features shown blatant disbelief for a moment. "I beg your pardon?"

"I will not allow anyone to call my son a burden in my home," Snape intoned, leaning forward slightly, his voice soft yet cold and brittle around the edges, eyes hard like black marbles. His father's glare was so potent that Harry wouldn't have been surprised if she had caught fire then and there.

Clarice seemed to backtrack, belatedly realizing she may have crossed a line. "Of course not, Severus, I was merely implying—"

"No, you have said enough, Clarice." His father leaned back in his chair, arms crossed tightly against his chest. "I want you to leave."

There was a tense silence, no one daring to move a muscle. Clarice seemed to have been stunned speechless. Harry thought she was doing a rather decent impression of a human statue.

A moment later, she cleared her throat, the shock seeming to have melted off her face, leaving behind the usual cool expression.

"If that is what you really want..."

"It is," Snape said coldly, giving a curt nod, an inscrutable mask back on his face, though Harry could see still see hints of the anger underneath it.

"Very well then," Clarice said tightly, then she turned to Kieran. "Finish your lunch, Kieran. We will take our leave straight after."

Kieran, who had been staring down at his plate, looked up with a jolt.

"What?" Kieran bleated, looking back and forth between his mother and Snape. "Why do I have to go too? Can't I stay here until we have to go to France?" He shifted to look fully at Snape, seeming to look for support. "Dad?"

Snape gave a short nod. "I have no objections to—"

"No," Clarice cut in sharply. "I think it's best if we leave earlier for the trip."

"But why?" Kieran protested. "We're not supposed to leave until next week. Why can't I stay with Dad?"

"Because I said so, Kieran," Clarice said sternly, leaving no room for arguments. Her eyes flickered down to Kieran's plate. "Are you finished?"

Kieran didn't answer for a moment, glaring down at his plate as if he wished all the food would turn to ash, then pushed it away with a bit too much force. "I can't eat anymore."

"Go to your room and pack your trunk, then," Clarice told him. "You won't be coming back before term begins."

Kieran opened his mouth as if to argue, but snapped it shut before any words came out. His glare then shifted to Harry as if all this was somehow his fault before Kieran pushed back from his chair and stalked out of the room. Clarice soon followed.

Harry lowered his eyes to his plate, still trying to process what had just happened. He didn't know what to think of it. He hasn't seen his father this angry in a long time, and startlingly, the man had been angry on his behalf.

And had his father really just told Kieran's mother to leave... because of what she said about Harry?

There was a warm glow that appeared briefly at his father's words, though it didn't last long before he felt the little bit of lunch he'd eaten settle like lead in his stomach.

She wasn't exactly... wrong. In a way, there were some truths to her statements...

Don't you think he's putting too much strain on your life... You deserve a break, after so many years of spying...

Harry really didn't want Snape to miss the vacation with his family just because his father had to stay with him. Over the last few days, he'd watched his father with Kieran and Clarice from his bedroom window, feeling as if he was back in his cupboard and gazing out through the slits on the door at yet another happy family. He didn't want to intrude, knowing that was a family that Harry could never hope to be a part of.

And maybe that was for the best. He didn't want anyone else getting hurt because of him.

The boy is too much trouble for what he's worth... Dangerous to my family...

A few hours later, Harry was in his room, settled in a comfy armchair with a book about concealment charms open on his lap. He was trying his hardest to not fall asleep, wanting to keep himself as busy as possible, hoping that his mind would be too exhausted to conjure up the usual nightmares.

It was a losing battle though, his eyelids beginning to feel heavy.

He was drifting...

"BOY!"

Harry flinched, jolting out of the armchair when he saw Uncle Vernon standing in the middle of his room.

How did Uncle Vernon get in here? Where was—

Before he knew it, a sharp crack whipped through the air and Harry felt a sharp pain shooting up his back. He gasped, turning to see Uncle Vernon gripping a large leather belt in his meaty hand.

"I lost my job because of you, you no good freak!" Uncle Vernon shouted, his teeth bared. "Nothing but a burden to my family!"

Harry scrambled away as quickly as he could as another lash came his way. As he tried running around him, Uncle Vernon grabbed a hold of the back of his shirt, yanking him backwards.

"Oh, no you don't! You can't escape this time!" 

Harry couldn't help but shudder at the hissing quality Uncle Vernon's voice suddenly held. His uncle laughed menacingly, the sound sending shivers down Harry's spine.

Another crack of the leather, and Harry clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the sharp sting of the belt, but it never came. 

"Harry!" a familiar voice shouted suddenly. 

He opened his eyes and his breath caught in his throat. 

The scene had changed.

His friends. Ron. Hermione. The Weasleys. 

All of them laid at his feet, staring up at him. 

Eyes blank, empty, lifeless...

"How many more people will die because of you?" a voice hissed silkily, the words plunging through Harry's heart like a knife. 

Harry tried looking away, but he just couldn't. It was as if an invisible force was holding his head still and preventing him from doing so.

No... It was just a dream... It had to be...

"Crucio!" 

Torturous screams followed, somewhere to his left.

Harry jerked his head towards the sound.

It was Snape. 

His father's sallow features were paler than usual as he writhed in agony on the ground, a pool of blood seeping through the man's robes. Multicolored curses flown from every direction, each one seeming to hit their target.

"A rightful punishment for a traitor," a soft menacing voice hissed. "Wouldn't you agree, Harry?"

No no no—

Suddenly, Harry made eye contact with his father and the panic and terror he saw seemed to swallow him whole.

"Harry..." 

"Avada Kedavra!" 

A flash of green rushed past him, speeding towards Snape.

"No!" Harry shouted, futilely trying to reach his father before the curse did.

It hit directly into Snape's chest.

Harry fell onto his knees beside his father, his trembling hands clutching at the man's robes.

"No, please..." Harry's breath hitched. "Dad..."

Those obsidian eyes that were usually like dark tunnels full of hidden emotions, now appeared empty, staring unseeingly back at him.

Your fault. Everything is your fault.

Harry...

All you do is get people killed.

Harry!

"You cannot escape it, Harry. Everyone you love will die..." 

A cold voice was laughing distantly.

"No!" 

And then everything exploded in a brilliant white light.

Harry woke screaming, his heart pounding wildly against his ribcage and his chest heaving as if he had just finished running a marathon. There was a fierce burning in his scar, and he was shaking so hard, he could almost feel his teeth rattling. He rubbed away the tears that had been sliding down his cheek, blinking furiously to clear his blurry vision as he glanced around the room. It was fairly dark now, just after sunset from what Harry could tell. The book he had been reading had fallen to the floor beside him.

But then something at the other side of his room caught his eye. Harry could barely make out a figure...

His breath caught in his throat.

It was... his father, slumped against the opposite wall, unmoving.

A million thoughts raced through Harry's mind.

What happened? Was he hurt? Did I do this? Had his father been trying to wake him? 

He could vaguely recall someone calling his name... Right before he woke up...

Shakily getting to his feet, Harry crept towards his father. He had to choke back a sob as the images from the nightmare came flashing to the forefront of his mind. It was as if his nightmare had come true...

Harry couldn't even tell if Snape was breathing or not— he just seemed to be too still.

Please be alright... Please don't be dead...

His fingers fumbled around his father's neck, searching desperately for a pulse. He breathed a shaky sigh of relief when he found it, bounding beneath his trembling fingertips.

"Da... S-sir?" Harry said hoarsely, shaking the man's shoulders lightly.

When no response came, Harry shook his father harder. Finally, Snape opened his eyes slowly, but once his father saw him, his eyes widened in alarm. He quickly pushed himself up and gave a slight groan, rubbing the back of his head.

"Harry?" his father said, dark eyes looking him over. "Are you alright?"

"I-I'm so sorry sir," Harry said hastily, scooting away from the man. "I didn't mean to— I-I don't what happened..."

He didn't stop until his back hit the front of the armchair, pulling his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around them as he tried to control his trembling. The echoes of his nightmare were still ringing in his ears, and Harry buried his face in his hands, in a futile attempt to stem the tears from flowing.

A moment later, Harry sensed Snape kneeling in front of him and a warm hand was placed on his shoulder. He heard his name being called, but Harry just couldn't bring himself to look up at his father.

"It's all right, Harry," he heard Snape murmuring. "It was just a nightmare. You're safe here."

Harry shook his head slightly, exhaling a heavy breath.

No, it wasn't. The nightmare had seemed so real and was entirely possible, which made it all the more frightening.

And I had just blasted him back into a wall... I could have seriously hurt him...

Everyone gets hurt being around me...

Harry felt warm hands gently taking his wrists, pulling his hands away from his face, and hesitantly, he raised his head.

"Harry?" his father said softly, black eyes peering at him with unconcealed concern.

The same dark eyes that had been so empty and lifeless...

Harry acted without another thought— he threw himself at his father, wrapping his arms around him and praying that he wouldn't be pushed away. For a moment, Snape stiffened, but then his father's strong arms embraced him back, bringing them both upright as one hand caressed the back of Harry's head. Releasing a shaky breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, Harry buried his face in the comforting darkness of his father's robes. The faint scent of herbs and spices surrounding him seemed somehow... familiar, as if it was part of a distant memory.

And the terror from the nightmare seemed to be gradually trickling away.

Was this what Harry had been missing all these years? This was what it felt like to be comforted after a nightmare?

Harry couldn't remember ever experiencing this overwhelming feeling of warmth and safety before. The feeling of his father's arms surrounding him and the slight pressure of long fingers gently carding through his hair was like a soothing balm to lifelong wounds.

He would stay in this moment forever if he could...

But wasn't he too old for this? He shouldn't be needing this—

With a sad sigh, Harry reluctantly pulled away from the warm embrace, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, then dropped his gaze to his trainers.

"I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to... act like... this," he said in a small voice.

How pathetic—

"It's only natural to want comfort after a nightmare, Harry," his father said, not seeming bothered at all by Harry's childish behavior. He kept a hand on Harry's shoulder, and asked, "How long have you been having these nightmares?"

"I guess... ever since I got back," Harry muttered, then hastily added, "They're usually not that bad though."

"Hmm... I beg to differ," Snape said, looking unconvinced. "You look exhausted."

Harry looked away.

His father gave a slight sigh before he said, "Why did you not tell me?"

"Didn't want to bother you," Harry whispered, fidgeting with a loose thread on his trousers. "I've always been able to handle them myself."

Snape's lips thinned, and it looked as if he was trying to hold back a scowl. "You shouldn't have needed to."

Harry shrugged. "I don't want to be more of a burden than I already am."

His father frowned, dark eyes studying him for a moment before they landed on his scar.

"Your scar is inflamed... Does it hurt?" he asked, reaching up and gently brushing Harry's fringe away from his forehead.

Without waiting for Harry to respond, his father held out a hand and summoned a small jar of blue salve. Harry stayed silent as Snape examined his burning scar and gently applied the cool salve, the pain immediately lessening as the salve began to take effect. After banishing the jar, his father led him over to the couch in front of the fireplace. Harry sat and watched Snape light a fire, brightening the room with a warm glow, before his father took a seat beside him.

Snape grasped Harry's chin gently between his forefinger and thumb, turning his head so that Harry met those dark eyes. "Listen to me Harry, you are not, nor will you ever be, a burden to me." His father's voice was firm, but his eyes held a strange glittering.

Harry didn't know how to respond to that, feeling a rather large lump beginning to form in his throat. He wanted to believe his father, but how could he, when his whole life, he'd been told the complete opposite. He swallowed hard, clearing his throat and trying to speak around the lump.

"Even with all the problems I cause you and your family?" Harry asked thickly, his gaze settling on the flickering flames of the fire. "She's right, I suppose... I can see why she hates me, and I understand—I mean— I know I'm dangerous to be around, and maybe it's better if—"

"Stop right there," his father interrupted his rambling with a hand on his shoulder. "Look at me, Harry."

Harry drew in a trembling breath, then slowly turned towards him.

"You are not causing problems nor are you dangerous; there are simply events that are beyond your control. Nothing that has happened so far is your fault," his father said, an intense expression crossing his features. "And quite frankly, I don't give a damn what Clarice thinks, and neither should you."

The hand on Harry's shoulder tightened.

"You are my son, Harry," Snape said fiercely. "You belong here, and absolutely nothing will change that."

A tear slid down Harry's cheek as he blinked up at his father, but he wasn't aware of it, still trying to process all of the man's words.

"Really?" Harry rasped.

"Yes," his father replied, his features softening as he briefly cupped Harry's cheek, lightly brushing away the stray tear with his thumb. "I want you here, Harry, and I will say this as many times as I need to."

Harry finally let all of his father's words sink in, that unfamiliar warmth washing over him again, spreading from his fingertips all the way down to his toes. His chest felt less tight, as if a weight has been dislodged and he could finally breath again. They were words that he had always wanted to hear, but never had the courage to ask for and somewhere along the way, had almost given up hope that he ever would.

He had been telling himself that he was fine— that he was more than able to take care of things himself as always, but the truth was that he just wasn't. He was tired of pretending all the time— tired of bottling everything up and acting as if nothing was wrong, until he was fit to burst with all the indescribable emotions he'd kept locked away inside of him.

But there had been always something keeping him from completely trusting adults. Harry had realized early on that trusting came at a cost. Everything could possibly change in an instant and he would have been better not trusting in the first place.

This time though, there was such conviction in his father's tone that Harry felt the walls surrounding him with doubt and mistrust finally beginning to crumble down around him.

Severus watched the emotions play across his son's face, seeing the effect his words were having on the boy.

He knew Harry needed to hear them from him. The boy still thought of himself as a burden, and Severus wanted to rid his head of that notion. It didn't matter how many times Severus needed to repeat them, as long as the message got through.

It was good timing on his part, having just watched Clarice and Kieran floo away, and then deciding to check on Harry. After that blow up at lunch, Severus had been determined to speak to the boy the first chance he got. It was for the best that they left. Severus need to focus on Harry, and he realized that with them here, he couldn't very well do that.

The first thing Severus saw as he stepped foot into Harry's room was his son sprawled on the floor, mumbling incoherently and his limbs thrashing about. Severus couldn't even begin to describe the sudden burst of panic that had rushed through him when his attempts at waking Harry were unsuccessful. It was disconcertingly similar to when his son had been under the effects of that curse, and Severus had swept those thoughts to the side. He heard Harry mumbling something that sounded strangely like Dad, but Severus didn't have time to think any more of it before a white, blinding light had erupted from his son, blasting him back into the bloody wall and knocking him unconscious.

Severus certainly needed a headache relief draught after this to relieve him of the incessant pounding in his head from the impact, but for now, there were more important matters concerning him.

He could have sworn he saw Harry's eyes turn red for a millisecond when they opened, just before Severus was blasted back, and considering his son's scar had also been red and swollen, Severus suspected the dream had something to do with the Dark Lord.

"What was the nightmare about, Harry?" Severus asked once the boy seemed to have calmed. He was glad to see some light returning in those green eyes. The nightmare must have been terrifying to have elicited this sort of reaction.

Harry took a long, tremulous breath before saying, "It started out like any other nightmare, but then it was like Voldemort was taunting me in my head... My scar was burning when I woke up." He raised a hand as if to rub the scar, but paused midway and let it fall when Severus shook his head in disapproval.

"Do your nightmares usually consist of the Dark Lord?" Severus asked, attempting to conceal his worry. He remembered Dumbledore telling him about a connection between Harry and the Dark Lord, but he didn't know how deep that connection ran. Apparently, Dumbledore had only briefed Severus on the bare minimum when the old man had urgently told Severus to teach Harry Occlumency last year. Perhaps it would be wise to start them again.

"Er, not really... they're usually of other things..." Harry absently began tracing the faint pattern on the arm of the couch with his finger and sighed. "But this time I saw my friends dead, and... I watched him kill you," he finished softly.

Severus' heart constricted painfully in his chest, and he was unsure of how to respond to that. After a beat, he cleared his throat and rested a comforting hand on his son's knee, giving a gentle squeeze. "I'm fine, Harry. It was nothing more than a nightmare," Severus said, attempting to reassure him, even though it sounded rather inadequate to his own ears.

Harry gave a small nod, eyes shifting to Severus' hand on his knee.

"I think it's best if we restart your Occlumency lessons," Severus said after a quiet moment.

Harry grimaced. "I'm rubbish at it."

Severus knew his son was no doubt remembering the failed Occlumency lessons from last term, and he could admit that he had been unnecessarily harsh during those sessions. There was a pang of guilt in his chest as Severus remembered the callous way he had treated his son.

"I'm not unaware of my impractical methods before," said Severus. "This time, we will take it more slowly." He withdrew his wand, and waved it, conjuring a book: A Beginner's Guide to Occlumency.

"This should be very useful in helping you close your mind," he said, handing the book to Harry. "I apologize. I should have given this to you before."

Harry accepted the book and briefly flipped through its pages.

"Occlumency can also help control your nightmares," Severus said, slipping his wand back into his sleeve.

Harry brows furrowed briefly before he nodded and closed the book with a heavy sigh. His son leaned against him slightly as his gaze settled on the crackling flames in front of them.

"Do you ever have nightmares?" Harry asked softly, before cupping a hand over his mouth as a yawn overtook him.

Severus paused, a bit surprised at the unexpected question, and looked down at his son. "Occasionally, when the events are too traumatic and intense to suppress with Occlumency, such as after Death Eater gatherings for example," he answered.

"Oh," Harry said softly, shuddering slightly and peering up at him with concern. "I'm sorry, that must be awful."

There was that pang in Severus' chest again. How did he ever think this boy was self-centered and arrogant?

Severus shook his head and sighed. "Harry, I wish to know if you have any more nightmares," he said, draping an arm around his son's thin shoulders and pulling the boy a bit closer to his side. "I do not want you to suffer alone any longer."

Harry gazed at him with tired, glistening green eyes, a soft smile appearing on his features. His son didn't say anything to that, merely giving a small nod before he gazed back into the fire. They sat in a comfortable silence for a little while longer, until Severus noticed Harry yawning again, his eyes beginning to droop.

"You need some proper rest, Harry," Severus said, standing and bringing Harry up with him. "You look like you haven't slept in ages."

Harry blinked tiredly at him and muttered something indistinguishable, leaning against Severus as he was lead over to his bed. When Harry had settled himself under the covers, Severus called a house elf to bring him a vial of Dreamless sleep.

He stayed long after Harry's breathing had evened out, watching the steady rise and fall of his son's chest, his features now peaceful in sleep. Gently, Severus brushed an errant strand of hair away from his son's forehead then stepped away, extinguishing the fire before quietly leaving the room.

Rays of sunlight streamed in around the sides of the drawn curtains, creating pale streaks on the floor when Harry woke the next morning. He rolled over, checking the clock on his nightstand— it read half past eleven. With a jolt, Harry sat up and glanced around the room, nearly unable to believe that he'd slept in so late. This was definitely the latest Harry had slept in since coming to Prince Manor, though he probably shouldn't be surprised— he'd been exhausted from all those sleepless nights and his father must have given him a larger dose of Dreamless Sleep.

Pulling the covers back, Harry threw his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, stretching his arms up over his head until he heard a satisfying pop from his elbows. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so well rested. It was as if he could run endless laps around the manor or hike up a tall mountain or some other brilliant feat.

Harry ran a hand through his disheveled hair, making his way to the window. He pushed the curtains open, squinting when the blinding sunlight engulfed him as it spilled into the room. When his eyes adjusted, Harry settled on the window alcove, drawing his knees up and loosely wrapping his arms around them as he gazed out the window. It was a beautiful day— the sun was shining brightly against a blue and cloudless sky, and a few birds would occasionally flutter by, chirping their songs to each other. As he leaned against the cool glass, a rather foreign feeling of contentment settled within him, which was a welcomed difference to the past several days.

When his stomach gave a rather loud grumble, reminding him that he had missed dinner yesterday and breakfast this morning, Harry got up, picked out some clothes from his closet, and went to get dressed.

Just as he was about to head downstairs, Harry glanced back out the window and noticed his father down at the potions garden, appearing to be inspecting a rather vicious looking plant that looked like it could take your arm off if you got too close. He thought Snape looked somewhat odd dressed in his usual black frock coat with his infinite buttons and black trousers surrounded by a garden full of colorful plants. Harry wondered how his father wasn't suffering from a heat stroke wearing all that black during the summer. Then again, he didn't think he'd ever seen his father wearing anything else since coming to stay here. Did Snape even own any other clothes in his wardrobe?

As his father walked back towards the manor, he glanced up and seemed to have caught sight of Harry in the window, raising an eyebrow up at him. Harry gave a small smile at that as he watched Snape disappear from view, his father's words from yesterday coming back to him.

You are not, nor will you ever be, a burden to me... You are my son, Harry... You belong here, and absolutely nothing will change that.

It brought a warmth to his chest that rivaled the sunlight.

Harry had even thrown himself at Snape, and his father hadn't shoved him away in disgust. Shockingly, Snape had actually held him, even though Harry had nearly killed him just a few moments before. He couldn't remember the last time someone had hugged him like that. Of course, Mrs. Weasley had comforted him in the infirmary after the third task in his fourth year and his friends sometimes threw themselves at him, but that was just different.

When another grumbled protest came from his empty stomach, Harry pulled away from the window and briefly checked himself in the mirror before heading out of his room.

His father was already seated at the table, a potions journal in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. As soon as Snape noticed Harry's presence, he set the book down.

"I was wondering if you were going to sleep through lunch as well," he said, his dark eyes giving Harry a brief once over. "How are you feeling, Harry?"

"Well rested for once," Harry replied with a small smile as he slipped into his seat at the table.

Like usual, their lunch appeared before them as soon when he sat down, and Harry felt his mouth water a bit as the wonderful scents hit him, feeling ravenous all of a sudden. There was a peaceful quietness that surrounded them as they tucked into their lunch, and Harry quite liked it, though it was sort of strange not hearing Kieran chattering away across the table from him.

"Did Kieran and his mother really leave?" Harry asked, after swallowing a mouthful of pasta.

"Yesterday," Snape confirmed, not looking up from the journal.

"I'm sorry you couldn't go with them..." said Harry, recalling the conversation from yesterday in this very room.

"Do not be," his father said firmly, closing the book with an audible snap. "Whether she likes it or not, I have two sons, not just one. She has no right telling me what to do in regards to you."

Harry smiled faintly, feeling that warmth blossoming in his chest again.

"And I can assure you, I had little desire to join them." Snape sat back in his chair then and turned his head to look towards the large windows with streaks of sunlight filtering in. "Now, considering it's a rather pleasant day out, perhaps you would like to go flying?"

"Can I?" Harry asked, trying not to sound too eager, but he was unable to suppress the hopeful smile that was breaking onto his face. "But I thought I wasn't allowed?"

"That is your last dose of nutrients potions," said Snape, gesturing at Harry's goblet of pumpkin juice. "And after having spent so much time in the lab recently, I do believe some fresh air would be beneficial."

"Brilliant!" Harry grinned, a the burst of excitement rushing through him at the thought of finally getting back on his broom.

The corners of his father's lips twitched upwards briefly, before he grew serious again, his arms folding across the table. "However, it is imperative that you remain within the wards," he said sternly. "I don't want to take any chances of the Dark Lord and his followers finding you."

Harry nodded his understanding and grabbed his goblet, downing the rest of his juice.

He was itching to get back on his broom, having not flown his Firebolt since that last Quidditch match before he had it confiscated by Umbridge. Over the last few weeks, Harry had seen his father flying with Kieran from his window, watching as they raced each other or tossed a Quaffle around. He couldn't help the envy that rose within him before he forced himself to look away. But still, Harry never stopped wondering what it was like to spend time with a parent like that.

Would Snape be willing to do the same with him? Should he just ask?

Harry bit his lip, poking tiny holes into his remaining pasta with his fork.

His father probably had more important things to do... Harry knew Snape had been rather preoccupied lately, brewing potions for the infirmary and writing his lesson plans. Surely, he wouldn't have time to waste on—

"Something on your mind, Harry?"

Harry startled, glancing up to see his father regarding him with a slightly raised brow. Well, this was his opportunity he supposed.

"Er... Would you go flying with me, sir?" Harry asked hesitantly, and when Snape didn't immediately respond, he quickly added, "But I completely understand if you're too busy—"

"Go fetch your broom," his father cut in, waving him off, "I will meet you outside."

"Yes, sir," Harry said with an excited smile as he stood from the table and went to retrieve his broom.

There was a warm, gentle breeze that ruffled Harry's hair as he strode out into the back garden, his Firebolt clutched in his hand. The sun was beating down on him, but it wasn't overly hot like Harry thought it would be. When he traveled far enough away from the manor, Harry positioned himself on his broom, taking a deep breath before he pushed off the ground and into the air. He had missed this feeling of freedom and weightlessness associated with flying. It never failed to lift his spirits, allowing him to momentarily forget about all his troubles and worries.

Flattening his body against his broom, Harry sped across the garden, diving, twisting, and spiraling around while the summer wind whipped through his hair and stung his face. He was careful not to go too far up, unsure of how high the wards reached, but he made sure he had enough height to perform all his tricks without fear of crashing into the ground. He had just leveled off from another steep dive when he noticed Snape standing near the entrance to the potions garden, seemingly observing him. Harry frowned and furrowed his brows when he noted his father scowling and the tense grip on his broom.

He wondered why that was, and his stomach suddenly tied itself into a knot.

Am I in trouble? Had I done something wrong and not realized it? 

He thought he'd been careful to stay within the wards...

Just as Harry was about to make his descent, Snape mounted his broom and flew to hover beside him instead. His features seemed to have already smoothed over from before, and Harry was just about to ask about that, but his father spoke first.

"What say you and I have a little race, shall we?"

"What?" Harry blurted, a bit caught off guard. Well that wasn't what he had been expecting his father to say.

Snape quirked an unkempt eyebrow, a hint of a smirk on his face as he said, "Afraid of a little challenge?"

Harry blinked, staring at his father for short moment before he shook himself, his mouth stretching into a grin. "Of course not, I was just wondering if you were."

"Very well then," Snape said, turning his broom towards the direction of the manor. "First one to make it around the manor and back, wins."

"You're on," Harry said, lining up his broom with his father's.

"On three," Snape announced, and Harry gripped his broom tighter, feeling a burst of adrenaline building within him.

"One..." his father began slowly, and before Harry could realize what was happening, Snape turned to give him a mischievous smirk and then sped off after a quickly muttered, "three."

"Hey!" Harry was almost blown back by his father's tailwind before coming to his senses and taking off after him.

That cheating—

Harry caught up quite easily; his father's broom being no match for his Firebolt. He smirked back at him before flattening himself further on his broom and speeding ahead. Glancing over his shoulder, Harry couldn't help but chuckle when he saw his father scowl and pretend to glare at him, though there was amusement dancing in his dark eyes.

His son did have a talent for flying, Severus could admit, as he hovered on his broom, watching Harry continuing to soar through the air.

They have been flying around the manor for a while now, and Severus had attempted to at least best the boy once in a race, despite knowing that his broom didn't stand the slightest chance against Harry's high quality racing broom. He did come very close one time, though he wasn't sure if that was just Harry taking pity on him. Eventually, he grudgingly admitted defeat and was now watching his son perform more of those daring maneuvers. Even though Harry was often going much too fast for Severus' liking, at least his son did seem to be controlling the broom with ease.

Severus had initially caught a glimpse of Harry from the large windows in his study as his son sped around the property, performing heart stopping aerial feats at breakneck speeds. He couldn't fathom what had gotten into the boy as he immediately grabbed his broom and hurried outside, about to call his son down and demand that he slow the hell down, but decided against it when he caught a glimpse of the look of pure contentment and joy on Harry's face. It was certainly the most carefree he had seen of Harry ever since the boy came to the manor, and Severus found he didn't have the heart to reprimand him. He would like to keep that expression on Harry's features for as long as possible after everything his son had been through recently.

Though Severus had lost count of the numerous times his heart leapt into his throat as he watched Harry dive towards the ground, mere inches from crashing into the earth before his son managed to gracefully pull up and level his broom. Severus had instinctively kept a hand on his wand, a cushioning charm on the tip of his tongue just in case. He'd thought about casting the charm over the entire garden, but even then, it wouldn't help lessen the impact if Harry was going that fast.

Kieran wasn't nearly as daring as Harry was on a broom, and Severus was immensely grateful for that— he didn't think his heart could withstand all the twists and flips if both his sons possessed this daredevil trait. He would likely keel over from heart failure before he even reached his forties.

After watching for a few more moments, Severus flew over to his potions garden and landed. He had planned to check up on his potions garden and harvest some of the ingredients. Just a few more batches needed to be brewed, then Severus would finally be finished with restocking the infirmary for the coming term.

He was in the process of inspecting a plant when he heard the sound of shoes softly crunching on grass behind him.

"Are those Hellebore plants, sir?"

Severus turned around at the sound of Harry's voice. His son appeared a bit breathless, his eyes bright and hair windswept, his broom clutched in his hands.

"They are," Severus replied, impressed that Harry had recognized it. Usually his students could only identify the ingredients after they were prepared for use. Severus knelt next to the plant and gestured for Harry to do the same. "These leaves are ready to be harvested and a syrup can be extracted from the flowers."

Harry set his broom down, then knelt beside him. "For the Draught of Peace, right?"

"Yes." Severus nodded.

"How are you going to extract the syrup?" his son asked, looking curiously at the closed flower.

"Like this." Severus gently stroked the underside of a petal with a gloved finger for a few moments until the flower slowly opened, revealing a shimmering blue drop of syrup resting on the tip of the stigma. He then pulled a vial from one of his many robe pockets and collected the drop into it.

"Can I try?" Harry asked after a moment.

"Of course." Severus banished both their brooms back to their rightful places and conjured another pair of gloves. He handed the gloves to Harry and explained the correct way to make the flower open and how to collect the leaves.

"Am I doing this right? It's not opening..." Harry said, frowning down at the flower he'd been trying to coax into opening for the past five minutes.

"Keep trying, it will open eventually. Some are more stubborn than others," Severus said.

Harry nodded, a determined look crossing his features. And it was times like these that reminded Severus of just how much of Lily was still alive in their son. Come to think of it, they were always her expressions that would appear on Harry's face. The way Harry's brows would furrow in concentration or the habit of biting his lip when he was nervous— it was all Lily. Severus had seen it in the lab as well, in those brief moments when his son's lips would curl into that same soft smile, his emerald eyes bright after having successfully brewed a perfect potion.

"Finally! Took it long enough," Harry muttered as the petals began to slowly open. He turned to look at Severus with a satisfied smile, and Severus nodded in approval, handing him the vial to collect the syrup.

At least Harry hadn't become frustrated or discouraged like Kieran had when he'd asked to help in the garden before. Kieran became bored and disinterested rather quickly, and that was where his two sons differed, Severus supposed. He had the impression that Kieran was merely trying to please him, instead of actually being interested in the subject. Though when Kieran put his mind into the work, the boy usually produced fairly decent potions. Above average compared to the thick headed students he taught every year.

Severus set Harry to collecting from the rest of the Hellebore plants while he focused on subduing the Chinese chomping cabbages that were still munching viciously on some carrots he'd left for them earlier.

Once they collected everything that Severus needed, they made their way inside and down to the potions lab with baskets full of ingredients. Once all the freshly picked ingredients were set into jars, Severus flicked his wand and all the jars organized themselves onto the shelves.

"Go on and have a shower, then you can take a break before dinner," Severus told Harry as he began setting up his work space, intending to brew a quick batch of Draught of Peace before dinner.

Harry nodded and made to leave, but paused just short of the door. He turned around, green eyes shining and small smile on his face.

"Thank you for flying with me today, sir."

That night, Harry was curled up on the sofa, relaxing with a charms book open on his lap, though he wasn't reading it. His thoughts were elsewhere as he gazed out the window, watching the tiny gleaming stars above instead.

He couldn't help replaying the day's activities over in his mind. Today was probably one of the best days he'd had in a long time. It had been brilliant flying with his father and helping him collect potion ingredients. Harry never realized there was this much to potions, and he found it interesting learning about the different ways to harvest certain ingredients.

Perhaps this was what it was like to spend time with a parent...

A knock on his door drew Harry from his thoughts, and he turned to see Snape entering.

"This a well written essay, Harry," His father said, dropping the rolled up parchment onto Harry's desk.

"Really?" Harry said with a soft smile, still unused to the praise. "Thank you, sir."

This assignment was the last Harry needed to finish before term started, and he had put it off because his father happened to be the professor who taught the subject and he wanted to write it well. Snape had insisted that he proofread it, and the first draft of it was sent back by his father with plenty of suggestions to expand on the topic.

"What are you reading?" Snape asked, glancing at the book in Harry's lap.

"Oh, it's just a charms book I found in the library," Harry replied, shutting the book and setting it aside. "It's rather interesting— I didn't know there were so many charms you can conceal yourself with..."

He trailed off when he glanced up and saw his father giving him a peculiar look, a gleam in his eyes that Harry couldn't decipher before they fixated on the book.

"Your mother gave me this book. This subject had always been fascinating to her," his father said in a soft tone, pausing for a brief moment before continuing, "In fact, the first time she tried casting a glamour in our third year, she ended up with no eyebrows for a week."

"Really?" Harry stared at the book as if he was just seeing it for the first time. There was a fluttering in his chest at hearing this little tidbit about his mother, and a sudden longing to know more filled him. He really didn't know much about his mother, other than that she was an uncommonly kind and gifted witch, and that he had inherited her eyes. Everyone always seemed to talk about James...

"Can you tell me more about her?" he asked, glancing back up at his father. "I don't know much about her really..."

Snape didn't answer for several moments, and just as Harry was about to retract his question, his father turned and abruptly swept out of the room. Harry stared after him in confusion, but after a few minutes, his father returned with an old, black rectangular box, just a bit larger than the length of his hand. Snape made his way around the sofa, and took a seat next to Harry, settling the box in his lap. It had a thick layer of dust coating the top, as if it had been left forgotten on a shelf for a long period of time. Harry could faintly make out something carved on the corner of the lid— Lily.

Harry inched closer to his father, his heart jumping to his throat as he peered curiously into the box. Inside contained some photographs and a small collection of random things that might not have meant much if he didn't know they were somehow associated with his mother.

"I haven't looked at these in many years," his father murmured, taking out a photo with two figures moving in it.

He handed the photo to Harry, who took it slowly, his eyes widening as he gazed down at a young girl and boy, sitting cross legged under a large oak tree in what appeared to be a Muggle garden. The girl's lips quirked into a tiny smile as she regarded the boy next to her, who had his head bent over an open book on his lap, a curtain of black hair partially concealing his face. Harry's chest tightened and he swallowed hard when the girl turned to the camera and waved happily to him, one hand trying to tuck a few strands of vibrant red hair behind her ears as a gentle breeze teased it into her eyes.

"This was taken before our first year at Hogwarts," his father said in a quiet voice.

"When did you two meet?" Harry asked, his eyes still drinking in the image as it replayed.

"We had lived close to each other as children," Snape told him. "I was the one who told her she was a witch, which she initially took as an insult." Harry cracked a small smile and glanced up at him. There was a faraway look in his father's dark eyes as he continued, "She was able to float off swings after jumping from great heights and animate flowers in the palm of her hand."

Then Snape shook his head, and his expression darkened slightly. "Of course, Petunia was quite upset that she could not do the same, and became envious of Lily's abilities. She even wrote a letter to Dumbledore once, asking if she could attend Hogwarts with her sister."

Harry blinked, his jaw nearly dropping to the floor. "She wanted to go to Hogwarts?" he asked, not quite able to believe such a thing... Petunia absolutely loathed magic and anything to do with it. She and Vernon had thrown a fit every time Harry performed a bit of accidental magic when he was little. It was inconceivable to think that there had ever been a time when Petunia actually wanted to be magical.

"She changed her mind on the day Lily was supposed to leave, however, claiming that Lily was abnormal and repeatedly calling her a freak."

Harry frowned, knowing how his mother must have felt. "She really called her that?"

His father nodded, a dark contemptuous look crossing his features as he muttered, "Some things never change, it seems."

Harry couldn't agree more with that. He looked back down at the picture again and asked, "Where was this?"

"In her parent's back garden," Snape said softly, a fond look appearing briefly on his features. "They were the kindest Muggles I have ever met; I was always welcome in their home."

"What happened to them?" Harry asked quietly. "Aunt Petunia's never mentioned them before."

In fact, he couldn't even remember her saying anything about them, not even to Dudley. He briefly wondered what it would have been like if his grandparents had raised him instead of the Dursleys. They certainly seemed to have accepted that they had a witch in the family.

"I'm not certain, however, I believe they passed away before you were born," Snape replied solemnly.

"Oh," Harry whispered, then looked up at his father. "What about your parents?"

Snape's features darkened. "They could never hold a candle to her parents."

Harry could have swore he heard some underlying bitterness in his father's tone, and wondered about that, but he didn't ask as the man pulled out two more photographs from the box.

One was a polaroid depicting teenage versions of his parents. They were settled underneath a large tree with the Black Lake and Hogwarts in the background. It was the same spot that Harry had sat under many times, doing homework or studying with Ron and Hermione. In the picture, Lily would nudge Snape's arm every so often, trying to get his attention while she smiled at the camera. Snape would briefly look up with a slight scowl at her before turning away, his nose once again buried in a book.

"I never enjoyed having my photo taken," his father said. "Lily had charmed that blasted camera to follow us around that day, trying to get a good picture."

He handed the other photo to Harry. "This was the only time I had allowed her to take a proper photo."

Harry gazed down at the two teenagers now standing next to each other. Snape stood a bit awkwardly, lips twitching into a slightly uncomfortable smile while Lily smiled brightly, green eyes glowing with obvious joy, her arm moving to wrap around him as she leaned comfortably into his side.

On the bottom of the photo, there were words written in a neat and loopy handwriting, almost like Hermione's.

I love this one of us, Sev!

Harry smiled softly, gently tracing the inked words with his finger, thinking that only his mother could have gotten away with calling Snape, Sev.

After replacing the photos back in the box, Harry noticed a small rolled up piece of parchment. He lifted it out of the box, carefully unfurling it. It appeared to be a drawing of someone brewing at a worktable. Some squiggly lines that Harry assumed represented the potion fumes were drawn rising slowly from the bubbling cauldrons. Upon closer inspection, Harry recognized Snape as the subject of the drawing, though it was a rather crude drawing of the real thing.

"She had drawn that picture of me in fourth year," his father said, lips twitching very slightly. "I believe she may have unintentionally exaggerated one of my undesirable features."

Harry gave a soft chuckle, realizing that his mother had indeed drawn Snape's nose larger than normal.

His father then gently lifted what looked like a Muggle snow globe from the corner of the box and handed it over to Harry, who held it carefully. He had seen Aunt Petunia displaying many of these trinkets on the mantle above the fireplace during the holidays, but unlike the Muggle counterpart, this snow globe didn't seem to need to be shaken for the snow to continue falling. There were two kids inside, continuously pulling a sled to the top of a rather steep hill and then sliding down together.

"Your mother made this," his father said reverently. "She gifted this to me for Christmas in our third year."

"Wow," Harry breathed, amazed by the magic. "Is that you and Mum in there?"

"It is," Snape said, nodding. "She was very gifted at charms."

"It's brilliant," Harry whispered as he watched his parents sledding down the hill again. He could see smiles on their faces as they glided speedily down the slope. He felt as if he could have watched them for hours, but after a few more minutes of gazing into the snow globe, Harry gently set it back down into the box.

The last item was a turquoise ribbon that had been hidden in the corner by the snow globe.

"She always had her hair tied up with a ribbon during potion classes. It used to drive her mad whenever the fumes made her hair frizzy," his father said.

Harry rubbed the smooth fabric between his forefinger and thumb, trying to imagine his mother tying her hair up with it.

"Lily had a natural talent for potions," Snape continued. "She would consistently be at top of the class."

"Really?" Harry was a bit surprised and also pleased to hear of this new tidbit of information. He smiled crookedly up at his father. "She did better than you?"

There was a tiny smile on Snape's usually stoic features. "It was always between the two of us that fought for the top spot."

"I guess I didn't really inherit that talent," Harry said softly, lowering his eyes back to the ribbon in his hand.

"You have been making considerable progress in our potion lessons recently," his father said, a faint note of pride in his voice.

Harry cracked a small smile. "I've been finding it more interesting lately. It's sort of like cooking I suppose, but more precise and dangerous."

"Indeed," said Snape.

They lapsed into silence for a while as Harry placed the ribbon back into the box and returned his gaze to the pictures of his mother smiling up at him again.

Ever since he received that letter from his mother, Harry had wondered how his mother and Snape got together, but now, it seemed rather obvious. They had known each other since they were young, and the way his father spoke of her... and the way she had written about him in the letter... Harry briefly imagined what it would have been like if he had grown up with her and Snape, and a sudden wave of grief swept over him.

"I wish I got to know her," Harry whispered, his chest unbelievably tight. "The only memory I have of her is when she was murdered..."

If only Trelawney didn't make that stupid prophecy... He hated Voldemort even more now— not for marking him, but for taking his mother away before he ever had the chance to know her. Harry would give anything to have just one happy memory of his mother. All he remembered were her screams and pleads to spare his life.

Snape seemed to stiffen and didn't respond for a while until Harry felt a warm hand on his knee.

"I wish you did as well," his father murmured, his dark eyes brighter than usual. "You would have experienced her fiery temper and overprotectiveness for all those dangerous stunts you pulled over the years." The corners of his lips quirked ever so slightly, before he gave a sad sigh. "She would have never let you out of her sight."

Harry couldn't help but give a small smile at that.

"You remind me so much of her," Snape said softly, after a long pause. "You're more like her than you know, Harry."

Somehow, Hary's chest seemed to constrict even more at that.

"Do you still love..." Harry began, but trailed off, lowering his eyes and biting the inside of his cheek. He didn't know what compelled him to ask, but then the memory of his father, Clarice, and Kieran in Diagon Alley flashed through his mind. He just felt the need to know... They had seemed like they fancied each other... And Harry didn't know how long his father had known Clarice, but he assumed they've known each other for a long time as well, considering they had Kieran together...

"Expecto Patronum."

Harry whipped his head up as a burst of silver light erupted out of the tip of his father's wand, illuminating the entire room to the point where it was almost blinding. He squinted at it until it took a shape, forming into a shining silvery doe that cantered gracefully once around the room before coming to a stop directly in front of him. He looked into those translucent eyes, feeling a strange sense of familiarity with the silver creature as it stared steadily back at him.

"She's beautiful," Harry murmured, reaching forward as the doe bowed its head and nuzzled against his hand.

"It was your mother's," his father said softly, his dark eyes glittering. It was like looking at a night sky full of stars.

Harry felt a lump forming in his throat, his chest aching as he leaned slightly against his father.

That's why he felt as if the Patronus was familiar. It was like she was still here, watching over them. Didn't he read somewhere that it was rare for two people to have the same Patronus... She must be his happiest memory...

Harry felt a strong arm wrap around his shoulder, gently pulling him closer into his father's side.

They watched silently as the doe seemed to nod in approval, then it turned and galloped off out the window, vanishing into the starry darkness.

"You must have really loved her..." Harry whispered. It was barely audible, yet Snape still seemed to hear it.

"I always will," his father said, his grip tightening around Harry. And after a moment's pause, he murmured, "Even more so, knowing she gave me you."

Harry gave a watery smile and leaned further into the embrace, his chest tight yet his heart seemed to soar within it.

Severus was settled in a chair next to Harry's bed, listening to his son's even breathing after briefly helping him organize and clear his mind. He had initially intended to begin Harry's Occlumency lessons tonight, but after the last hour, his own emotions were in a state of disarray.

He sighed heavily as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands— he hadn't planned on reminiscing tonight, having pad locked those memories away so long ago.

I wish I got to know her, Harry had said.

Severus' heart clenched uncomfortably— their son would never know how full of life Lily was, or how much joy she could spread to everyone around her. Harry would never be able to hear Lily's sweet laughter or see her bright smile that could light up a room full of darkness. And after everything that Harry went through over the years, from those damn Muggles to the Dark Lord, Severus knew Lily would have fought tooth and nail to protect their son if she were here. She would have cursed Petunia and her despicable whale of a husband for the way they treated Harry. And Lily wouldn't have hesitated in hexing Severus as well for being so cruel to their son these past few years.

After rubbing his eyes, Severus leaned back in his chair, glancing at the box of Lily's possessions he had set on Harry's nightstand beside a dark red covered book. There was something sticking out of it that caught Severus' attention. When he opened the book, what he saw inside caused his breath to catch in his throat.

It was a photo album, but the pictures displayed on the first page were pictures of Lily and baby Harry, and himself.

Severus gazed down at the photos, drawing in a slightly trembling breath as he watched the interactions of the people in them.

Everyone in these photos seemed so... content.

He was holding Harry in a rocking chair as they both slept soundly... He was bouncing Harry on his knee as the baby giggled happily... In another, he was making ridiculous motions with the spoon as he attempted to feed Harry in a high chair.

It was like looking at an alternative version of himself...

Then it struck him— the letter from Lily... and the vial of...

He hadn't looked at them yet— it was about time he did.

Setting the album back on the nightstand and giving one more glance at Harry to make sure his son was sleeping peacefully, Severus left and quickly made his way to his study. With a swift flick of his wand, he undid the wards on the drawer then carefully withdrew the vial of swirling silvery-white memories he'd left there.

After retrieving his Pensieve from the cabinet near his desk, Severus uncorked the vial and slowly tipped the silvery contents into it, where they swirled and shimmered brightly.

He stared down at the basin for a moment, feeling a bit apprehensive over what he was about to witness.

Taking a deep breath and not wanting to prolong this any further, Severus bent forward, but before he could make contact with the silvery substance, an alarm signaling a Floo call sounded.

"Severus?" It was Poppy's voice, sounding a bit breathless and frantic. "Severus, are you there?"

Severus straightened and took a few steps toward the fireplace. "What is it, Poppy?"

"Oh, Severus!" she exclaimed when she saw him. "Something has happened to Albus, I need your help. Please come quickly."

Harry thought it was rather odd to be greeted by an empty room when he arrived at breakfast the next morning. He'd become used to seeing his father already seated at the table, sipping a cup of black coffee and perusing a potions journal or the Daily Prophet. Snape had never missed a meal, nor had he let Harry miss one either, besides yesterday.

Maybe he was busy brewing?

That was a possibility; his father could have lost track of time while focused on an important potion.

Deciding to check, Harry made his way down to the lab, but upon arrival, he found the room dark and uninhabited. Harry returned upstairs and decided to check his father's study next, slowly opening the door when he received no response after giving it a few knocks. The study was empty as well and the curtains were still drawn. As Harry was turning to leave, a patch of shivering light glimmering over his father's desk caught his eye.

Curiously, he crept towards it, recognizing the source of the light as a Pensieve, one that was smaller and less embellished with only a few runes and symbols engraved on the edges compared to the one in Dumbledore's office. Harry wondered why his father seemed to have left this sitting around, the situation strongly reminiscent of that moment in his fifth year. He peered cautiously down into it, watching the silvery-white substance swirling ceaselessly within the basin. Very brief snippets of the memories flashed by, too quickly for Harry to make any sense of. Mostly all of them seemed to contain a man, a woman, and a baby…

Then the swirling suddenly stopped, and a single scene shifted into focus. Harry found himself staring down into what appeared to be a long corridor with sunlight flooding in through the large windows and towering columns standing along the stone walls.

Seated on a secluded alcove, almost obscured by a pillar, was a boy hunched over a book, dark hair curtaining part of his face from view. A girl came around the corner a moment later, moving towards the boy, the sunlight glinting off her dark red hair.

Harry tilted his head, leaning closer...

Is that—

Something snapped in his mind, and Harry quickly straightened, just before the tip of his nose could make contact and pull him into the intriguing scene playing out below him. He took a few steps back, becoming aware of his heartbeat drumming in his ears. The last time he'd found himself in this same situation, Harry had come across one of his father's private memories, resulting in a livid Snape and a heavy jar of dead cockroaches hurled at him, just nearly missing his head. Even though Snape was nowhere to be found at the moment, Harry definitely wasn't keen on recreating the incident from last year.

Without another glance back, Harry turned on his heel and left the study, trying to push the Pensieve and his growing curiosity out of his mind.

After checking his father's bedroom and seemingly the entire manor (inside and out), Harry ended up back in the kitchen, confusion mingling with worry now that he was certain Snape had left. The first thought that crossed his mind was a summons from Voldemort, but then Harry quickly reminded himself that his father was no longer a spy, and was immensely relieved he didn't have to consider that possibility.

Maybe Dumbledore had summoned him and he was at Hogwarts?

But then why didn't his father tell him? Harry didn't see a note or anything letting him know where Snape had went… and it wasn't like his father to up and leave without notice. Unless he had left in a hurry…

"Mimkey?" Harry called.

A moment later, the house elf popped into existence beside him. "Does Young Master be needing something from Mimkey?"

"Do you know where my dad is?"

"Oh, yes," the elf squeaked. "Master Snape was called away by Madam Pomfrey."

"Called away?" repeated Harry, furrowing his brows. "Do you know why?"

Mimkey shook her head, her ears flopping from side to side. "Mimkey is only ordered by Master Snape to watch the young master while he be away."

"How long has he been gone?"

"Since last night, sir."

So his father had been gone all night, and he still wasn't back yet. Did something happen? Why would Madam Pomfrey need his father… unless someone was injured? Perhaps she needed him to brew some potions? But that task wouldn't take the whole night, would it?

His thoughts were interrupted when Mimkey nudged him towards his seat at the table. "Young master stlll be needing to eat his breakfast."

"Do you know when he'll be back?" Harry asked after complying.

"Master Snape did not say, but young master must not worry, Master Snape will be back soon," said Mimkey, patting his arm comfortingly. "Does young master be needing anything else from Mimkey?"

"No, that's all. Thanks, Mimkey," said Harry, offering a small smile.

She gave a short bow and then disappeared with a soft pop.

Harry sighed, looking around at the spread of breakfast foods that appeared on the table before him. As he tried to fill his plate, Harry thought it was strange to eat at such a large table alone.

After managing to finish some porridge and a few pieces of bacon, Harry returned to his room. He was greeted by a snowy owl perched on his desk with two brown envelopes bound to her leg. Hedwig hooted at him and held her leg out. He caught glimpses of Ron and Hermione's handwriting, and he wondered how his friends took the news. These were the responses he'd been waiting for, but at the moment, Harry wouldn't mind if he had to wait a little while longer.

"Thanks, Hedwig," Harry said, feeding her an owl treat. He ran a hand gently over her feathers before she flew over to settle on her perch in the corner of his room.

Harry then turned his attention to the brown letters on his desk waiting to be read. Taking a deep breath, and not wanting to prolong this any further than necessary, Harry decided to open Hermione's letter first.

Dear Harry,

Oh my goodness, it must have been quite a shock finding out Snape is your father. Are you really all right? I must admit, I was rather surprised when I'd read how Snape was treating you. Hard to imagine coming from him, but I'm so glad your happy with your new life. It's wonderful that you don't have to live with the Dursleys anymore.

Ron was going mad when he read your letter. He even made some ridiculous plans to try to rescue you, but don't worry, Ginny and I managed to talk some sense into him. 

Have you finished your summer assignments yet? Well, I suppose one of the advantages of having a professor as your father is that he could look over them for you. You're so lucky! You must have an enormous amount of resources available to you! Remember, we only have a two more weeks until term starts again.

I hope we can see each other soon. We have so much to catch up on.

Love, 

Hermione

Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he finished reading the letter. Of course, Hermione would obsess over the summer assignments. He thought she seemed to take the news rather well. After rereading it once more, Harry set the letter down and moved onto Ron's. He already assumed that Ron's reaction would be different to Hermione's.

Harry,

Let me get this straight, your mother sent you a letter on your birthday and told you Snape was your father? Bloody hell! Was she serious? Is this some sort of joke? Do you know how mental it all sounds? I mean, how could that even be possible? Snape hates you and has always been a right git to you! Did he seduce your mum or force a love potion or something? If he didn't, I wonder what your mum saw in him. Do you even look like him now— hook nose, greasy hair, and all that? Merlin, you must have the worst luck!

Are you sure you're okay? I know you said in your letter that you're fine, but honestly, it's Snape you're talking about. Is he really treating you better? He doesn't force you to gut frogs or scrub cauldrons all day, does he? I can't really imagine Snape even being anything close to a father. I guess I have to see it to believe it... 

You have to come visit soon. Maybe you can ask Snape if you can come over?

Good luck with that, mate.

Ron

When Harry finished reading, he had to reread it again, just to make sure he didn't miss anything.

Well… that was certainly better than he'd been expecting. At least Ron didn't immediately renounce their friendship or anything of the sort, though he could do without those barbs at his father. Not very long ago, Harry probably would have agreed with Ron, but now everything was just… different.

Harry released a full sigh of relief, knowing that his friends hadn't completely shunned him after they were told the news.

Should he ask Snape if he could visit the Burrow? Would he let him?

If this were the Dursleys, there would be no point in asking, but this was his father. It would be Harry's first time asking his parent if he could visit a friend's house, something so ordinary that Harry never thought he'd ever get the chance to do.

He hadn't seen his friends since the end of term, and after everything that had happened this summer, he had plenty more to tell them. Harry knew his appearance had changed enough for them to not recognize him, and he wondered how they were going to react to that. Fred and George didn't immediately recognize him until they noticed his scar.

Harry went to his trunk and pulled out a quill and two blank pieces of parchment, then took a seat at his desk. He absently chewed on the tip of his quill as he tried to formulate the proper responses to his friends' letters. By the time he finished, Mimkey called him to lunch, and Harry realized his father was still not back yet. The letters had been a good distraction, but now he felt some of the concern returning.

After a quick lunch, Harry picked out a book from the library, then made his way to his father's study. He curled up on the settee, planning to wait there until his father returned. He purposefully positioned himself so that he was facing away from the Pensieve on Snape's desk. Every time his mind wandered to those swirling memories behind him, Harry shook his head and resolutely pushed his curiosity away, refocusing his attention on his book.

Severus sharply flicked his wand, levitating the accursed object carefully out of its box. The afternoon sunlight reflected off the surfaces of the gold ring as it rotated slowly in the air. With narrowed eyes, Severus studied the small unfamiliar symbol engraved on the stone. It didn't look like any rune Severus had ever seen. But he knew the thing was cursed, that much was certain, by the waves of dark magic he could feel radiating off of it, and Severus wondered again how Dumbledore could have acted so foolishly. Surely, a wizard of Dumbledore's caliber could have detected the sinister nature of the ring, and would act carefully not to touch it, let alone put the bloody thing on.

He briefly glared at the man in question, resting in one of the infirmary beds, his bandaged hand the only sign left of the long ordeal.

It had taken a great amount of effort for Severus and Poppy to remove the object from Dumbledore's finger. The ring seemed to have a mind of its own, but they'd somehow managed to temporarily block the dark magic and remove it. Dumbledore's fingers and hand had begun blackening at a rapid pace, and Severus had set to muttering all sorts of incantations from his knowledge of the dark arts in an attempt to reverse the curse or slow its progression. Fortunately, Severus had managed to contain the curse to just below Dumbledore's knuckles. Then he hurriedly made his way down to his lab in the dungeons, needing to brew a complicated potion he knew would help completely purge the dark magic from Dumbledore's system. The potion was one of the more advanced brews and there were multiple steps to brewing and administering it. Dumbledore had needed several doses of the potion, and by the time Severus finished administering the last dose, it was late afternoon the next day.

Out of the corner of his eye, Severus noticed Dumbledore stirring, his eyes fluttering open.

"Severus?" Dumbledore whispered, glancing at him before his gaze locked onto the ring, remembrance flickering in his blue eyes.

"What were you bloody thinking?" Severus demanded, turning to fully face the headmaster. "Surely, you realized the ring carries a curse, what possessed you to put the damn thing on?"

Dumbledore grimaced, sitting up slowly. "I... was a fool... bested by temptation."

"Temptation?" Severus echoed, narrowing his eyes. "What for?"

He didn't receive a response from Dumbledore, and Poppy chose that moment to emerge out of her office. "I would appreciate it if you didn't harass my patient, Severus."

Severus scowled, sending her an irritated glare that she chose to ignore as she made her way over to Dumbledore's bedside.

"How are you feeling, Albus?" she asked, waving her wand over him.

"Much better than I last remember. Thank you, Poppy," he replied, the usual smile appearing on his old features.

"You really should thank Severus," said Poppy, handing him his half moon spectacles. "I was at a loss, having never come across such a dark, debilitating curse. Severus managed to contain it and brewed the proper potions to help dispel it entirely."

"It appears I owe you both an enormous amount of gratitude," said Dumbledore, adjusting his glasses and turning to the both of them.

"You were very fortunate Hagrid happened to come across you on his way back to the castle— a few minutes later and the curse would have been irreversible," Severus snapped, lowering the ring back into its box and spelling it shut. "The ring carries a curse of extraordinary power, it was a miracle Poppy and I were able to contain it, let alone eliminate it entirely."

"Yes, very fortunate indeed," Dumbledore nodded, casually studying his bandaged hand. "I must have lost consciousness when I finished Apparating. Hagrid found me, you say?"

"Yes, and thank Merlin he was on his way back from Hogsmeade. You would have been there for hours before anyone was aware," Poppy said as she summoned a jar of blue salve. "You seem to be recovering well. This will help with any residual pain left from the curse. Other than that, your hand should be good as new in a few weeks or so."

Dumbledore accepted the jar and slipped it into a colorful robe pocket. "I thank you again for your services, Poppy." He stood from the bed, turning towards Severus, a serene smile on his face as he placed the box with the ring in his other pocket. "If you don't mind, Severus, I would enjoy the company on my way back to my office."

Severus nodded, following Dumbledore out of the infirmary. He wondered if he was going to get some straight answers from the headmaster for once. Though he probably shouldn't hold his breath; Dumbledore had an irritating habit of being vague. They walked in silence through the quiet corridors until they reached the stone gargoyle. Dumbledore said some absurd Muggle sweet to gain entrance.

Fawkes greeted them as they entered the Headmaster's office, fluttering his vibrant wings and trilling joyfully.

Severus regarded him with a sideways glare as he sank tiredly into the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk, feeling his remaining energy draining and the exhaustion beginning to settle deep in his bones.

He watched Dumbledore take his time organizing some of the pieces of parchment and books strewn all over his desk before the headmaster took his seat and pulled out the box containing the cursed ring, setting it next to his bowl of multicolored sweets. A strange look briefly passed over Dumbledore's old features as he gazed at the ring, but it was gone before Severus could identify it. He wondered why this cursed ring seemed so important to him.

"Are you planning on displaying that along with your other ridiculous trinkets?" Severus sneered, eying the various bits and pieces displayed around the office with distaste.

Dumbledore looked up and chuckled. "No, it is of far more significance than the others."

Severus raised an eyebrow as a gesture for Dumbledore to elaborate, but gave an exasperated sigh when the headmaster remained silent. He glanced back at the ring and asked, "What is that symbol engraved on the stone?"

Dumbledore didn't immediately answer, taking a moment to pick apart two lemon drops, and popped one into his mouth before absently replying, "An ancient rune, perhaps."

Severus arched a skeptical eyebrow at him, unconvinced. Obviously, the old coot knew more than he was letting on. "How did you just happen to come across this thing?"

"Plenty of researching," Dumbledore said simply, clasping his hands together. "The pieces of the puzzle are coming together quite nicely."

Severus forced out a breath. Why was it like pulling teeth trying to get any clear answers from the old man?

He was about to ask more on the matter, but was halted when Dumbledore held up his bandaged hand. "It will all be revealed in due time, Severus."

Severus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why am I not surprised," he grumbled. Of course, Dumbledore was still his naturally secretive self. Normally, Severus would have attempted to press further on the matter, but at the moment, he seemed to lack the energy to do so.

"Now, about the special mission Voldemort has given the young Malfoy," Dumbledore began after a short pause, causing Severus' head to snap up at the abrupt change in subject.

Severus dragged a hand down his face. "A death sentence, more like," he said quietly, recalling the conversation he'd overheard. "The Dark Lord is punishing Draco for Lucius' failures."

It was the last time Severus spoke to Draco before his cover had been compromised, and the Dark Lord wasn't pleased. He wished he could have done more to sway Draco from following in Lucius' footsteps. Even though Severus was named his godfather by Lucius and Narcissa, he was only ever able to observe from the sidelines, carefully keeping his cover and indulging the boy like some semblance of a godfather would. He'd watched Draco grow from an innocent, bright child to a teen heedlessly parroting Death Eater propaganda.

Dumbledore inclined his head, steepling his long fingers beneath his chin. "Yes, and a frightened child is more likely to lash out in desperation."

"Draco is simply trying to please his father by following in his footsteps." Severus leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I wish I could have done more to prevent it."

"Perhaps this year, you can. You are his godfather—"

"—yes, but now that my allegiances are clear, he has likely lost all trust in me."

"Just as well, do what you can and keep a close eye on him," said Dumbledore. "For his sake, as well as the other students."

Severus nodded, though he didn't believe Draco capable of murder. He knew the boy emulated his father almost to the point of no return, but he knew Draco had inherited more from Narcissa, though buried deeply as it was at the moment. Severus just hoped he wasn't too far out of reach.

"I have no doubt some students will be unhappy with your supposed betrayal," Dumbledore commented.

"Which is why I need to be cautious," Severus said, knowing the students with Death Eater parents. "Especially when Harry's true parentage becomes public knowledge."

This could be the most interesting year yet. Not that the last several years weren't. It was just that everything was going to be different this year. His true allegiances were revealed and he was no longer required to work under the disguise of a loyal Death Eater. Severus would also have not one, but two sons under his care, attending Hogwarts the following term. He could only imagine the reactions from the student body when it became publicly known that Harry Potter was in fact his son.

"How is he, as of late?" Dumbledore asked, after a brief pause.

Severus gazed down at the floor, his mind flashing to visions of Harry brewing comfortably beside him to the boy gliding through the air on his broom, a carefree expression on his face. Then it twisted into Harry on the floor, thrashing and struggling against invisible demons, his normally green eyes flashing a sinister red before Severus was blasted back—

"Harry is… fine," Severus began quietly, kneading his forehead. "He's gradually recovering..." He hesitated for a moment before continuing, "however, he's been suffering from rather vivid nightmares… one recently brought about by the Dark Lord."

"I see," Dumbledore said softly, and something flickered behind his blue eyes eyes, like clouds passing over the sun. He leaned forward in his chair. "Does this occur often?"

Severus shook his head, and said, "No, I have only witnessed one such incident."

"And what, if I may inquire, did this dream consist of?"

"Visions of his friends dead and… myself, dying," Severus told him.

Dumbledore nodded, looking pensive for a moment.

"He's using Harry's fears against him," he said softly. "Which is all the more need for Harry to master Occlumency."

"I'm aware," Severus said, crossing his arms over his chest. He cleared his throat. "But concerning this connection between Harry and the Dark Lord… how deeply are they linked?"

"I have my suspicions," Dumbledore said. "However, nothing is set in stone, as of yet."

Severus glared at the old man, but Dumbledore didn't seem to notice as he studied a loose thread on his robe sleeve. Again, Severus felt as if the Dumbledore knew more than what he was letting on. And for some reason, the headmaster decided not to disclose important information to Severus, even though it pertained to his son. He truly wished he possessed the energy to pursue the subject further, but for now, he'd have to leave it. For now.

A long silence ensued, broken only when Fawkes gave a loud trill, fluttering his mighty wings and taking off from his perch in a whirl of orange and red. Severus followed the phoenix's flight out the open window until it became just a red speck against a cloudy blue sky.

"I should take my leave now as well," Severus said, standing and turning towards the Floo. He should really return home and check on Harry, then get some much needed rest. He was practically dead on his feet.

"Of course, enjoy the rest of your summer, Severus," Dumbledore said with a smile, rising as well, "and give Harry my best."

Severus gave a curt nod, grabbing a pinch of Floo powder and throwing it into the grate. Just as he was stepping into the green flames, Severus noticed Dumbledore removing the sword of Gryffindor from its glass casing...

What the bloody hell was he doing now?

Severus shook his head, not having the energy to think anymore of it as he was swallowed by the flames.

He stepped out of the fireplace with a smidge less grace than he normally would. His legs buckled slightly underneath him, but he recovered quick enough.

There was a glimmering above his desk which reminded Severus of the memories he had yet to see. He drew them back into the vial and set them back inside his drawer, intending to look at them first thing in the morning.

A light snoring then drew his attention to a boy dozing on his settee, an open book resting on his chest. Severus was glad his son seemed to be sleeping peacefully, no hint of a nightmare on his features. It made him appear younger than he actually was.

"Harry," Severus said, gently shaking his son's shoulder.

Harry shifted, eyes fluttering open and blearily looking around until they landed on Severus.

"You're back," he whispered, sounding relieved. Harry quickly sat up and rubbed a hand down his face as if trying to clear away the last remnants of sleep. He looked up at Severus with concerned green eyes and said, "What happened? Mimkey said you were called away by Madam Pomfrey last night."

Severus lowered himself down onto the settee next to him. "Professor Dumbledore had a sort of accident."

Harry frowned, brows furrowing. "It must have been bad. You were gone a long time."

Severus leaned against the arm of the settee, fighting the heaviness in his eyes. "He thought it a good idea to put on a ring containing a dark curse."

"What?" Harry's eyes widened. "Why would he do that?"

"Who knows what the headmaster is thinking nowadays," Severus said dryly.

"Is he all right?"

"Fortunately, Madam Pomfrey and I managed to prevent the curse from fatally spreading."

"Oh," Harry let out a breath, looking relieved, "that's good. Glad he's okay."

Severus nodded, gazing out the window and noting the sun was just beginning its journey down toward the horizon. He glanced at the clock; it was past their usual dinner time already.

"Have you had dinner yet?" Severus asked, turning back to his son.

"Er, no, not yet," Harry said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Why not?"

Harry shrugged. "I wanted to wait until you got home."

"I see," said Severus. "Well then, shall we have dinner?"

Harry nodded and Severus led the way to the dining room, realizing he was starving, having not eaten since dinner last night.

"What have you been up to today?" Severus asked once they'd settled at the table.

"Nothing much," Harry replied. "Just been doing a little reading, and I wrote back to my friends." He chewed his bottom lip, seeming to hesitate for a second before he said, "I told Ron and Hermione about us."

"Did you?" said Severus, taking a sip of his tea. "I'm sure it came as a shock."

He hadn't really given much thought to how Harry's friends would react to their relationship. Though Severus supposed he could put up with the Weasley brood and Granger if they stayed loyal to his son.

"Yeah..." Harry began making swirls in his potatoes. "Hermione took it better than Ron I think." He paused briefly before hesitantly asking, "Can I visit the Burrow? I want to see them before term starts again."

"I'm sure that can be arranged," Severus said after a moment. "I will speak to the Weasleys."

"Really?" Harry sounded a bit surprised at first. Then the corners of his lips rose. "Thanks, sir."

The rest of dinner went by in comfortable silence, and afterwards, Severus felt as if he could fall asleep anywhere, even standing up. He trudged up to his room and didn't bother changing out of his robes before he collapsed onto his bed, instantly drifting off the moment his head hit the pillow.

The next morning, Harry was on his way to breakfast when something caused him to pause outside his father's study. He hovered at the doorway, realizing after a few seconds that it was Snape who was sitting on the settee, still as a statue, his face buried in his hands. His father blended into the shadows so well, Harry almost didn't see him.

Did something happen?

He'd never seen his father like this before.

"Sir?" Harry knocked on the open door. "Are you all right?" he asked carefully.

There was no response.

Harry took a few steps into the room, cautiously glancing around until his eyes landed on the Pensieve from yesterday, still next to his father's desk. His eyes darted from the stone basin back to his father slumped on the sofa, and suddenly everything became clear.

Didn't his mother say in the letter that she'd left memories for his father?

Harry stared down into the swirling silvery-white substance, watching the scenes flashing by with longing. He didn't think his father would mind if he saw them, considering a baby version of himself was also in the memories...

But Harry figured he should probably ask for permission first… just in case.

Harry turned towards Snape, who still hadn't moved a muscle. "Um… sir, can I— do you mind if—"

There was a minuscule nod of his father's head, and Harry took that as permission to enter. He gripped the edge of the basin, shivering slightly with anticipation. Taking one more glance at his father, Harry took a deep breath and then leaned over the shimmering substance, plunging headfirst into the swirling depths below.

Harry could immediately feel the myriad of emotions that weren't his own, whirling around him as he plunged deeper and deeper. Incoherent voices accompanied the silvery wisps of color continuing to flash by, too quickly for him to decipher until they slowed, painting a vivid scene before him.

When he finally felt solid ground beneath his feet, Harry glanced around, squinting as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness of his surroundings.

It was a corridor at Hogwarts, he realized. One that seemed secluded and rarely frequented by students.

A boy was settled on the window alcove, dressed in school robes with a Slytherin crest on the front, flicking through the aged pages of a thick book perched on his lap. His distinct hooked nose and greasy black hair was recognizable anywhere, and Harry thought his father looked slightly older than the last memory he'd unintentionally seen of him. It was still strange though, seeing his father sitting there nearly the same age as Harry, himself, compared to the formidable figure he was familiar with.

Harry moved closer, trying to get a better look at the book that his father seemed to be deeply engrossed in when he suddenly became aware of the soft echoing of boots emanating from around the corner, drawing closer with each step. Snape stiffened, one hand hovering near a robe pocket where Harry assumed he kept his wand. It was as if his father was anticipating a sudden attack, and Harry half expected James and Sirius to appear, the events from that memory trickling into his mind as he made to turn around.

When he did, the person he was met with made his breath catch in his throat.

A girl now stood in front of him, her red hair cascading in soft curls past her shoulders, also wearing school robes, but with a Head Girl badge, gleaming silver where the sunlight hit it, pinned next to the Gryffindor crest.

"Mum," Harry breathed, his heart performing a somersault in his chest when his mother's green eyes seemed to connect with his own, but of course, he reminded himself that she didn't actually see him, her eyes were looking through him toward his father.

The last time Harry had seen his mother in a memory, he didn't exactly get the chance to really look at her, with all that had been happening. She had been furious... James and Sirius had been taunting his father two against one... and his father was being humiliated…

This time though, Harry had the opportunity to properly soak in every detail of his mother that he couldn't before. He quickly came to the conclusion that the wizarding photos he'd seen simply couldn't compare to his mother standing in front of him, just an arm's length away, and Harry yearned to be able to reach out and touch her, to make her aware of his presence, to be able to speak to her.

Lily tucked a stray strand of auburn hair behind her ear and hesitated for a moment, before she finally spoke.

"Severus."

Harry tore his eyes away from his mother and glanced back at his father, who hadn't immediately acknowledged her presence, his body taut as a bow, vaguely resembling a human statue until only his dark eyes dragged from his book over to her.

"What are you doing here, Evans?" His voice sounded cold, forcefully devoid of all emotion. "Shouldn't you be with Potter?"

There was the same biting tone that Snape had so often referred to Harry with for the past five years, but this time, he couldn't seem to prevent the underlying bitterness and resentment from leaking through.

"No, I wanted to talk to you," Lily replied, taking a few steps forward as Harry stepped out of her way, not wanting her to walk through him.

Severus looked away, snorting derisively, "I doubt he would approve of you speaking to me."

Lily paused, frowning as she crossed her arms over her chest, "Why does it matter what he thinks? Just because we're dating doesn't mean he owns me."

Severus glanced up again, raising a sardonic eyebrow, his mouth opening briefly as if to retort before he seemed to think better of it. Instead, he pursed his lips, shutting his book with a snap, and began roughly stuffing it into his bag.

"Well, we have nothing to talk about. I believe you've made that perfectly clear two years ago."

Harry frowned; he swore he heard a slight tinge of hurt in his father's voice, and perhaps, his mother did as well.

"I know," Lily sighed, her arms falling back down to her sides, "and I've been thinking about it a lot lately…"

Severus' hands stilled, and even though he didn't fully turn to look at her, his gaze set on the stone floor beneath them, Harry could tell his father was listening.

Lily fiddled briefly with an invisible thread on her robes, then, as if making up her mind, she closed the distance between them and pushed herself up onto the ledge beside him.

She drew in a deep breath, "We were best friends… and even though I was rightfully angry, maybe I'd been a bit hasty… ending our friendship like that because of some poor choices and that despicable word…"

I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!

The words reverberated in Harry's mind before he could stop them.

"I didn't mean it," Severus said softly, his expression stilled guarded. "Even at the time... I wouldn't hesitate to take it back if I could..."

"I know," Lily said, turning towards him. "And I forgive you, Sev."

A long drawn out silence filled the corridor, the words seeming to be suspended in the air between them. Harry could tell his mother had caught his father off guard. Surprise flitted across Severus' face, and for a moment, his father seemed at a lost for words, his mouth opening and closing several times without a sound.

"I don't…" Severus trailed off with a bewildered shake of his head, closing his eyes. Then he took in a sharp breath, and opened them, finally meeting her gaze. He searched her face, apparently looking for any signs of insincerity. "Why?"

Lily sighed, glancing out the window. "I still don't like the sort of people you hang around with, but I know you, Severus." She shifted her gaze meaningfully back to him, "All those things that they're obsessed with... it's just... not you."

"Really?" said Severus, sharply. "Then what exactly do you think I am?"

Lily seemed to consider her response for a moment, absently tracing an uneven crack in the stone with her finger as she did. "I don't think you're pathetic, or a coward… I don't agree with any of the things people say about you…" she said slowly. "You're not a lost cause..."

The sharp lines on Severus' face softened slightly at that, his posture less stiff as he regarded her incredulously. "Why would you...?"

Lily looked straight at him, green eyes glittering in the sunlight. "Because I know you're still in there— the Sev I knew since the day we met in the park is still there, somewhere, deep down." She looked away, pausing for a few seconds, before continuing in a softer voice, "But when I saw him slipping away... I suppose it terrified me, seeing you going down a path I couldn't follow and sympathizing with them, against people like me."

Harry caught his father's nearly imperceptible glance at his left forearm, where the Dark Mark must be already burned into his skin, hidden beneath his robe sleeve. Severus remained quiet though, seeming uncertain as to how to respond.

"I miss you, Sev," Lily said, breaking through the silence that had come over them. "Can we start over? I'd much rather have you as a friend, not an enemy."

Severus frowned. "I have never been your enemy, Lily," he said in a very quiet voice, and he suddenly looked worn and tired. "But it's too late now, what's done is done."

For a moment, Lilys brows drew together in confusion, but then comprehension seemed to dawn on her.

"The rumors are true, then?" she said softly. "You took it, didn't you?"

Severus didn't answer her for a long moment, and then, as if coming to a decision, he slowly pulled up the left-hand sleeve of his robes.

A writhing snake greeted them, protruding from the mouth of a dark skull, standing out vividly against Severus' pale skin. It looked red and a bit inflamed, as if the mark had been branded recently and the skin hadn't had time to adjust to it.

Harry noticed his father steeling himself as he waited for her reaction.

But Lily said nothing, nor did she recoil away. She simply frowned as she gazed down at it, a sadness in her eyes. Her hand made a slight movement, as though she wanted to reach out and touch it, but stopped herself.

"Did it hurt?" she asked, a note of concern in her voice.

"It was as expected," Severus said stiffly, giving a small shrug. There was an inscrutable look on his face. "It burned, just as it does during his summons."

Lily glanced up at him, and asked, "Why did you do it?"

Severus pressed his lips together, staring down at the mark, seeming to contemplate his response for a few moments before he spoke, "I thought he would give me purpose... that he would make me feel less useless, less weak…"

"You're none of those things, Severus."

Releasing a heavy sigh, Severus roughly slid his sleeve back down, concealing the ugly mark once again, before continuing, "He also promised power— a chance for vengeance…"

Lily studied him for a moment. "Is that what you really want?"

"I admit it was appealing at first," Severus confessed, averting his eyes. "But now…"

"You're having second thoughts?" Lily finished for him, sounding hopeful, and looking a bit relieved. "It's not too late to le—"

"No," Severus cut her off with a sharp shake of his head. "You can't even begin to imagine the things he does to those who attempt to leave."

Lily appeared startled, eyes widening slightly. "You've already seen…?"

Severus gave a curt nod in confirmation. "At the initiation ceremony, as an example..."

The memory of Voldemort torturing his father that day in Diagon Alley flitted into Harry's mind then, and he shuddered to think of the many more sadistic ways of torture that Voldemort was capable of inflicting on his victims.

Lily frowned, staring at Severus for a long moment.

"Then he won't know," she said finally, placing a hand on Severus' arm, a determined gleam in her green eyes. "We'll find a way. If you want to."

Severus looked down at her hand resting on his arm, then back up at her, something indistinguishable glinting in his dark eyes. His only response was a faint nod of his head.

Then, suddenly, his parent's faces became blurry, and soon, the corridor around them was dissolving entirely, swirling away as if it was made of smoke.

The memories that followed were short and quick, giving Harry a glimpse of how Severus and Lily's relationship slowly mended during the rest of their seventh year. Every time they were together, Harry noticed it was always in secluded areas in the castle, or in well hidden spots down by the lake, far away from any other students.

Harry drank up every little moment, noting how his father seemed to relax— even appearing happy— when they were together, talking and enjoying one another's company. This was more confirmation that Severus really cared about her, and Harry was reminded of those pictures his father had shown him, of how he spoke of her still after all these years...

"Are you seriously going to brew out here? In front of the lake?" His mother laughed in one memory as his father prodded a small pile of sticks with his wand.

He sent her a sly smirk. "Need I remind you— you're the one who keeps suggesting I should spend more time outdoors."

A flash later, and then...

"He's such an inconsiderate toerag!" Lily fumed, tossing her bag onto the seat of the window alcove, and lifted herself onto it next to Severus. "Still strutting around the place like a damn peacock."

Severus made a disparaging noise as he flipped a page of his book. "When is he not?"

Lily shook her head, rummaging in her bag. "Honestly, I can't stand him and Black sometimes."

"I still don't understand why you put up with him," Severus muttered, scribbling something on a piece of parchment.

"I don't."

Severus' hand abruptly stilled, and he glanced up at her, lifting a questioning eyebrow.

"I broke it off," she said, by means of explanation, pulling out her charms textbook and setting her bag aside. "It wasn't working anymore."

Harry only caught a glimpse of his father's surprise before everything blurred again, shifting and dissolving and reforming.

The next thing Harry knew, he was outside, warm sunlight beating down on him as he stood near the edge of the Black Lake, in a spot that he had never been to before. When he looked around, he found both his parents sitting with their backs against a tree, an assortment of textbooks, parchments, and quills spread around them.

"What are the main ingredients in the Blood-Replenishing Potion, and what effect do each have on the final outcome?" Harry heard Severus saying as he moved closer, his father's quill furiously scratching on his parchment.

But Lily hadn't been listening; she appeared to be lost in thought as she absently chewed the end of her quill, gazing out at the lake. She turned towards him after a moment, tossing her vibrant red hair to one side as a slight breeze swept it into her eyes.

"Severus?"

He halted his frantic scribbling, looking up from his parchment. "Yes?"

"Can we take a break?" Lily said, tucking away her quill and setting aside her book and parchment. "We've been at it for hours, and besides, it's such a beautiful day today. Why let it go to waste?"

Severus looked as if he couldn't believe she would suggest such a ridiculous thing. "Our N.E.W.T. exams begin tomorrow, Lily."

"I'm aware, Sev, but it's still good to take a break every now and then," Lily said, sending him a small smile as she drew her wand. "You know, to let your mind rest for a bit." And with a swift flick of her wrist, the books surrounding her were stacked neatly beside her bag.

Severus rolled his eyes. "My mind is well rested. And in any case, we still have to revise for—"

"It's not as if you don't already have the entire textbook memorized," Lily interjected, gesturing at the book on his lap. "I'd say you're more prepared than anyone, perhaps, even the teachers."

Severus shook his head and didn't respond, though Harry caught the slight upward twitch of his lips as he attempted to return his attention back on his textbook and parchment.

After stretching out her legs, Lily got to her feet and made her way over to a patch of soft grass nearby. Harry watched as she laid down and made herself comfortable, her head resting against her arm.

Then Lily looked over her shoulder back at Severus— who was also watching her now— and beckoned him to join her.

"Come on, Sev," said Lily, patting the grass beside her.

Severus didn't move, simply arching an unkempt eyebrow at her. Lily waited expectantly, and after several seconds, Severus conceded, giving an exaggerated sigh as he, too, swiftly organized his things with a wave of his wand, then made his way over to join her on the grass. When Severus— albeit awkwardly, and seeming not at all relaxed— finally settled down beside her, Lily grinned at him, and Harry saw his father return a very small smile of his own.

A comfortable silence fell over them, punctuated only by the soft rustling of the leaves against the wind and the chirping of a flock of birds fluttering by. Eventually, Severus managed to somewhat relax, mimicking her position with his head resting against his arm as he followed her gaze skyward.

"Remember when we used to pick out shapes in the clouds?" Lily asked, turning her head towards him.

Severus nodded. "I've always thought it was a rather pointless activity."

"Oh, really?" Lily raised an eyebrow, a smirk appearing on her face. "If I remembered correctly, you seemed to enjoy it back then." She nudged him playfully with her elbow, lifting her eyes upward again. "Come on, it'll be fun— just like when we were kids."

"Or we could do something productive instead—"

"Just humor me, Sev, and tell me what you see," Lily cut in, rolling her eyes at him.

With an exaggerated huff, Severus looked up at the clouds littering the sky, his eyes narrowed in focus, regarding each of them as if he were assessing the quality of potion ingredients. A few seconds later, he pointed up to his left.

"I suppose that one is shaped like a cauldron."

"A cauldron?"

"And that one looks like a vial."

Harry gave a small snort of laughter, unsurprised by what his father saw in the clouds. Of course, his father would see potion related objects...

"You really are pants at this," Lily muttered, giving him a mild look of annoyance, though her lips were twitching. "Is potions all you can think about?"

A small smile played on Severus' lips when he turned to look at her. "Well, do enlighten me. What do you see?"

Lily smiled back at him before raising her gaze back up at the sky, humming softly, eyes sparkling in the sunlight. "I think it looks like a rabbit— you see the ears?"

Severus narrowed his eyes, giving it another brief, considering look. "Those ears, as you say, are the stirrers in the cauldron."

Lily chuckled, giving an amused shake of her head, before she directed their attention to another cloud.

Not wanting to crane his neck every time he tried to follow their gaze, Harry settled on the grass beside his mother, facing both of his parents as they continued gazing up at the multitude of puffy clouds above them, listening to his mother occasionally laughing at the shapes that were suggested.

Harry wanted to commit every little detail— the sound of his mother's laughter, the sparkle in her eyes, the way her smile seemed to radiate as much warmth as the sunlight, and his father's small smile in turn— to memory, and wished that he could linger in this moment longer, feeling content to simply sit and observe his parents all day.

But then, a small movement from within the forest behind his parents suddenly drew Harry's attention. He squinted at the trees, thinking it was probably an animal, when a face partially emerged from the shadows and into the sunlight. Curious as to who was apparently spying on his parents, Harry got to his feet, intending on getting a closer look at this mysterious person, who was now crouched behind the thick oak tree that his father had been leaning on a few minutes prior.

It was a girl, a Slytherin as indicated on her robes, who appeared to be nearly the same age as his parents with long murky, brown hair held together neatly in a braid down her back. She was peering around the tree, her sharp blue eyes fixating on Severus and Lily, a pinched expression on her features—

Why did she seem so familiar?

Had he seen an older version of this person somewhere recently...?

But before Harry could place a name to the seemingly familiar face, the world around him became unfocused and soon, everything dissolved, swirling away again...

Once everything stilled, Harry immediately realized that he was no longer at Hogwarts. Instead, he now stood on a beach, the ocean reflecting a fusion of pink and orange as the sun glowed warmly, nearly beginning its descent down toward the horizon.

"Any particular reason why you chose to come here out of all places?"

Harry turned at the sound of his father's voice beside him, watching as Severus drew his wand, eyes cautiously scanning the vicinity. Some time must have passed from the last memory as his father now appeared slightly older; he was wearing the familiar black trousers and boots that Harry was accustomed to seeing, but with a dark blue shirt underneath his black cloak.

"My parents used to take us here on holiday," Lily said, standing on Severus' other side, clutching a small picnic basket in her hand. She took a glance around, "It's a rather secluded beach, unlikely for anybody to see us, so I figured, why not?"

"An adequate decision," said Severus with an incline of his head, before raising an eyebrow. "Is this considered our first proper… date?"

"I suppose it is," Lily replied with a soft smile. "Seems sort of silly, doesn't it, in the midst of everything that's been going on recently."

Severus smirked, drawing his wand. "Well, according to your sentiment, we all need a break every now and then."

He began casting enchantments to conceal them from any possible onlookers, even though there wasn't another soul on the stretch of beach for as far as Harry could see.

Lily shot an amused look back in Severus' direction, before she set down the basket and reached into it, pulling out what looked like a tiny rolled up handkerchief.

"It would be nice if we didn't have to be so secretive all the time," Lily said, placing the handkerchief roll on the ground. With a wave of her wand, the handkerchief enlarged, becoming what appeared to be a picnic blanket, fit for two, when unrolled and spread out on the sand in front of them.

"It is not safe, otherwise," Severus said. "If any of the Death Eaters or the Dark Lord finds out…"

"I know," Lily muttered with a hint of resignation, settling down on the blanket. "And I can't wait until this is all over."

Severus made a noise of agreement, slipping his wand back into his sleeve and coming to sit beside her.

"Has he been summoning you a lot lately?" Lily asked after a moment, brushing away a few strands of auburn hair that swept into her eyes and tucking it behind her ear.

Severus fingered a pebble sticking out of the sand and nodded, "Mainly for updates on the potions he has requested."

Lily drew her knees up and loosely wrapped her arms around them. "Were you there? At that Death Eater raid last week?"

There was a small tilt of Severus' head in confirmation.

Lily sighed, "It was a right mess with the Order…"

"I'm aware," said Severus. "I was the one who alerted Dumbledore a few days prior to it. The Dark Lord has expressed his displeasure at his plans being foiled."

Lily turned towards him sharply, "Does he suspect…?"

Severus shook his head. "I don't believe so," he tried to reassure her.

"Are you sure?" said Lily, sounding unconvinced.

"If he did, I most likely would not be here with you now."

She sighed, putting a hand on his arm, "Did he torture you?"

Severus looked away and didn't respond. He didn't need to though; the darkness in his eyes and the grim expression on his face said it all.

"Why can't you just quit," Lily said with a small shake of her head, so softly that Harry almost missed it.

"You know I can't, Lily," Severus said, a hint of exasperation slipping through into his tone, as if they'd already had this discussion once before. "I foolishly made the decision to join the Dark Lord, and now I have to answer to the consequences."

Lily frowned, "Those consequences don't have to dictate your entire life, Severus."

"They do, and they always will, until the Dark Lord is defeated," Severus said firmly. "And the only way the Order even has a chance is with information from the inside."

Lily gave him a long considering look, before she glanced away, sighing heavily, seeming unable to come up with anything to counter that statement.

She absently flicked off some sand that had got on the blanket, then looked back at him, her eyes dimmed, "I guess I'm just worried that... you would answer his call one day and not come back."

"I know," Severus took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze, "and I'll do my best not to let that happen."

Lily nestled against Severus' chest as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, tucking her head beneath his chin. They lapsed into silence for a minute, gazing out at the setting sun, listening to the gentle swelling and receding of the waves on the shore and the occasional seagull squawking in the distance.

It was a rather peaceful place, Harry thought. Maybe he could ask his father if they could visit this place one day...

"Severus?" Lily whispered, drawing away slightly so she could look at him.

He met her gaze, "What is it?"

"I know you hate thinking about what ifs but… if you could go back… who would you choose? I mean, between You-Know-Who and me?"

"You," Severus said firmly, tightening his hold around her. "Without hesitation."

Lily smiled warmly, leaning her head back against his chest.

"I love you, Sev," she said softly.

The corners of Severus' lips turned up as he pressed a kiss to her hair.

"And I, you," he murmured.

Then they were gone in a whirl of color and smoke...

"Where are you leading me, Severus?" Harry heard his mother ask as his surroundings reformed around him.

"I believe that is for me to know, and you to find out." His father smirked over his shoulder as he strode past where Harry stood, his cloak billowing out behind him.

"Why are you being so mysterious?" Lily said, raising an eyebrow, lagging just a few steps behind him.

Severus didn't answer her question, continuing onward as he simply responded with, "We are nearly there."

Harry hurried to follow, glancing around him as he did. He wondered what his parents were doing out here at a time like this. The snow covered countryside they were currently on seemed to stretch out for miles, and dusk was quickly settling in, the last vestiges of orange near the horizon beginning to fade away into darkness. In the distance, Harry could make out the specks of light from a cluster of houses and the white wisps of smoke ascending from the tops of their chimneys against the navy blue sky.

It must be really cold, Harry thought, as he watched his mother lift her hands out of her pockets and clasp them briefly to her mouth to warm them, her breaths coming out as white puffs of smoke. Then, clutching her cloak tighter around herself against the bitter cold, Lily quickened her pace so that she was walking beside Severus, nearly matching his long strides.

She glanced up at him, giving him a teasing look, "Did you do something different with your hair?"

Now that his mother mentioned it, Harry realized that his father did look slightly different; his hair was slightly longer and not as greasy as usual, and surprisingly, it was pulled neatly into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck.

Severus gave her a sideways glance, "Perhaps."

Lily smiled, her eyes twinkling, "I like it. You should consider doing it more often, Sev."

He made a noncommittal noise in response as they approached the edge of a dark forest. By the light of his wand, Severus led the way in, and after a few short minutes of walking, he abruptly came to a halt. It was nearing full darkness now, but Harry still noticed a strange sort of shimmering, as if there was an invisible barrier, in front of where his father had stopped and pointed his lit wand.

"It's here," said Severus, waving his wand and beckoning Lily after him.

The shimmering suddenly gave way to rippling...

And then, it was as if they had passed through a magical barrier into a different world.

The forest seemed to have suddenly come alive as a multitude of colorful lights danced in the trees around them. It took Harry a moment to realize that those lights were actually fairies— hundreds of them, if not thousands— flickering on the branches or fluttering by from tree to tree. It reminded him of the grotto of fairies that were at Hogwarts during the Yule Ball, but this one was infinitely more breathtaking.

"It's just like I remember it," Lily said, her eyes glittering as she gazed around. "It's been so long… How did you manage to find it again?"

"You just have to know where to look," Severus replied, pocketing his wand. He glanced at the fairies surrounding them before he turned his gaze entirely to Lily, more interested in watching her reaction, the awe on her face.

His father was looking at her with the same look he had when he conjured his Patronus that night in Harry's room…

"It's beautiful," Lily whispered.

"It is," Severus agreed, clasping his hands behind his back. He cleared his throat, "I thought it was a rather fitting place…"

Lily shifted her attention to him when he didn't continue after a few moments.

"For what?" she prompted.

"For this."

And Harry couldn't help his mouth falling open as he watched his father drop down on one knee, pulling out a small black box from his robe pocket.

Was this...?

"Lily..." Severus said softly, opening the box to reveal a simple, yet elegant ring nestled within. "Will you marry me?"

Harry grinned as he looked toward his mother, eagerly waiting for her reaction.

Lily gasped, her hands coming up to cover her mouth in surprise as she glanced down at the ring, before her eyes were entirely set on Severus. She sniffed, eyes bright, then, unexpectedly, she launched herself into Severus' arms, causing both of them to land in a heap on the forest floor, bits of snow covering their robes.

"Shall I take that as a yes?" Severus asked after a moment, the corners of his lips quirking into an amused smile as he wrapped his arms around her.

Lily laughed softly, wiping her eyes, then she drew herself up slightly from where she was resting against his chest and looked down at him with a warm smile, her green eyes sparkling.

"Yes, of course," she replied, before leaning down and kissing him soundly.

Before they could draw away, the world around around Harry swirled again...

The next memory was brief, giving him a glimpse of his parents secretly making their marriage official at the Ministry with an old ministry wizard and modifying his memories afterwards.

Then Harry found himself in a small, well lit kitchen.

His parents were sitting at the table, his father reading the Daily Prophet while his mother was assembling a sandwich— one that seemed to only consist of an overwhelming amount of tomatoes and mustard between two slices of bread— beside him.

Harry couldn't understand how that could possibly be appetizing as he watched his mother take a bite of her sandwich, seeming to relish the taste, and apparently, he wasn't the only one as his father was now raising a disbelieving eyebrow at her from behind his newspaper.

"Do you want some?" Lily said when she'd caught Severus staring.

"No, thank you," he replied, folding the paper and setting it aside. "Are you feeling all right, Lily?" Severus asked tentatively, eying the sandwich in her hand. "I thought you hate tomatoes and mustard with a burning passion."

"I usually do," she said, after swallowing a mouthful, the corners of her lips curling upward, "but I can't seem to get enough of it lately. I'm absolutely craving it."

Severus frowned, brows drawing together in confusion.

Lily sighed in mild exasperation, though her smile didn't waver in the slightest as she set her half-eaten sandwich down and turned towards him. "I have something to tell you, Sev."

"What it is?" he asked, instantly alert, concern coloring his tone. "Is something wrong? Are you feeling unwell? Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey—"

Severus cut himself off, shooting a glare in Lily's direction when she let out a soft chuckle in response to his reaction. She shook her head and cleared her throat, her smile brightening. Reaching forward, Lily took Severus' hand and pulled him from his chair, leading him out of the room and into a cozy looking sitting room. They settled down together on the loveseat.

"What is it?" Severus repeated, watching her intently with a hint of apprehension.

Lily drew in a deep breath. "I'm pregnant."

It seemed to take a while for her words to reach him.

Severus blinked, "You're what?"

Lily brought his hand to her flat belly and cupped her smaller ones over it. "We're going to be parents."

Harry watched his father's dark eyes dart back and forth from her smiling face to their cupped hands. He could practically see the gears in his father's head turning as he attempted to process the news.

"You're certain?" Severus whispered, a multitude of emotions flashing across his face. Surprise and joy and adoration first and foremost, but there was also a flash of fear. "I'm… I'm going to be a," he cleared his throat, "a father?"

Lily nodded, her green eyes shining. "I had suspected as much, but the potion confirmed it."

She drew him out of his shock when she placed a gentle kiss to his lips and wrapped her arms around his neck. After a moment, Severus curled his arms around the small of her back and pulled her closer as he leaned back on the sofa, her head tucked beneath his chin.

"I know you had some doubts about all this, but you're not your father, Sev," Lily said softly against his chest. "You're a much better person than he ever was."

"So you claim," Severus said, the corner of his lips curling upward ever so slightly.

Lily drew back and gave a playful roll of her eyes, "You are— even with your stubbornness and temper, I know you're going to be a great father to our son or daughter."

Severus pulled her close again, tightening his hold in response, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "We shall see."

Everything swirled again, and before it could properly reform itself, Harry felt a brief rush of panic overwhelm him, making him gasp at the abrupt change from the previous pleasant memory.

He tried to look around at his surroundings, but he could barely make out anything this time. It was nearly pitch black. He nearly missed his father stalking by past him, appearing to be in a hurry and, without having to voluntarily follow, Harry was pulled along after him. He wondered what could have gotten his father so rattled as the warm lights from a cottage came into view in front of them. Harry followed as his father entered quickly.

"Lily?" Severus called, a bit breathlessly, once he'd shut the door.

She appeared in the doorway to the kitchen a moment later, looking much more pregnant than the last memory Harry had witnessed, her belly now engorged like she had a watermelon hidden beneath her robes.

"Severus?" Lily said, giving him a concerned look. "What's wrong?"

Severus said nothing, just wordlessly went to her and abruptly pulled her into his arms, his body moulding around her bump. Surprised, Lily wrapped her arms around his neck, an unsettled look on her face as she laid her head against his shoulder. "Sev?"

"He's going to be specifically targeting our son," Severus whispered against her hair, "The Dark Lord…"

Lily drew back, keeping a hold on his arms as she looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed, "What are you talking about?"

"There's a prophecy," Severus said, releasing a slightly tremulous breath as he pulled away and began pacing the length of the sitting room. "Lucius and I overheard it when we were on our assignment and reported it back to him… It foretold of someone who will be able to defeat the Dark Lord. Born at the end of July to parents who have thrice defied him..."

"A prophecy?" Lily said, eyebrows raised. "Does he actually believe in that sort of rubbish?"

Severus nodded grimly, "He believes it refers to our unborn child."

Lily sunk down onto the sofa, her arms falling protectively over the swell of her stomach as she stared up at Severus in disbelief, "How does he even know...?"

"I'm not certain," he said, shaking his head.

Lily's eyes suddenly widened in alarm, "Does he know you're the father?"

"No, he does not, at the moment, suspect me in connection to you," Severus said quietly. "However, he has ordered all the Death Eaters to find out exactly who is."

Lily looked momentarily stricken at his words as Severus collapsed onto the sofa beside her. He rested his elbows on his knees and ran his hands tiredly down his face. It was then that Harry realized how exhausted his father was, looking paler than usual, dark circles forming underneath his eyes as if he hadn't been getting enough sleep lately.

"I should have done more to prevent this... that bloody prophecy," Severus briefly clenched his hands into fists, then unclenched them with a sigh, "if I had only known…" he murmured, looking sadly toward the bulge of her belly.

"Don't blame yourself," Lily said softly, moving closer and gently taking his hand in hers. "We'll get through this. He's not going to come anywhere near our son," she declared, and Harry felt a rush of affection flood through him for his mother.

His father straightened and squeezed her hand in response, a fierceness glinting in his dark eyes. "I will do anything in my power to ensure that."

Then the scene had changed to a room Harry didn't recognize. His parents were sitting around a table, with Dumbledore and James sitting across from them. They discussed Dumbledore's plan to have James— who was now an Auror— stay with Lily for protection whenever Severus wasn't home, with the intention to make it appear as if they were a couple.

Harry couldn't see how his father would ever agree to that, given the clear animosity between him and James. But when Harry looked toward his father, waiting for a reaction, he was surprised that the man didn't argue. Instead, he just sat there with a stony expression, arms crossed, completely unreadable.

"You were rather quiet today at the meeting," said Lily, taking a seat beside Severus on the sofa. "Are you all right with this? This whole plan with James…"

Severus was glaring at a spot on the floor, lips pressed into a thin line. "Of course not," he bit out, appearing to hold back a scowl. Then he released a heavy sigh and waved a hand dismissively, "But it doesn't matter what I think, as long as you and our child are safe."

Turning towards him, Lily reached forward and cupped his cheek with the palm of her hand, drawing his attention to her.

"I love you. You know that," she said softly, giving him a knowing look.

There was a faint nod of Severus' head, his expression softening as he met her eyes, as if that was the reassurance he had needed, but could not voice.

Before Harry could hear his father's response, the scene had shifted and reformed again...

He was now standing in a brightly lit room, in front of a blank white wall. It was a hospital room, he realized as he turned around, most likely St. Mungos. His mother was resting on a bed, leaning back against the crisp white sheets, looking exhausted but with pure bliss on her face as she cradled something wrapped in a blue blanket to her chest. A mediwitch was clearing the empty potion vials off the table in the corner of the room and to Harry's surprise, James was seated in a chair next to his mother's bed.

Harry took a few quick steps closer to his mother's bedside and peered down at his younger self, fast asleep, swaddled in a blanket.

But where was Dad?

He must be here somewhere...

Harry looked around the room again, frowning when he didn't see any sign of his father. He was sure he had been here, remembering the picture he'd received from his mother…

Only after the mediwitch left the room, closing the door softly behind her, did his father suddenly emerge from a corner of the room, having canceling the disillusionment charm on himself. He shot a look at James, who clearly took the message and stood, heading for the door.

"Right, well, I'll be outside if you need me," James said over his shoulder on his way out.

His father quickly made his way over to her bedside, coming to stand opposite Harry. "Are you all right?" he asked, looking her over with concern.

"I'm fine, Sev," Lily said softly, giving him a reassuring smile. She gazed back down at the baby in her arms, one hand stroking the tuft of dark hair messily adorning the infant's head. "This is your Daddy, Harry."

"He's beautiful, Lily," Severus whispered, gently pressing his lips to her forehead.

"I think he looks more like you," said Lily, a look of deep fondness crossing her face.

"I beg to differ," Severus said dryly, gazing down at the baby. "He is very fortunate to have inherited your nose."

Lily laughed softly, and then the baby in her arms seemed to stir, whimpering as his little arms seemed to reach into the air, toward Severus. She held the tiny bundle out to his father, who hesitated for a split second, before he bent down and gently scooped baby Harry into his arms, cradling him.

"Hello," Severus murmured, lightly tracing his thumb over the infant's small features, the gesture ever so tender. It was then that baby Harry decided to open his eyes, blinking blearily up at his father, who gave a small gasp. "And he certainly has your eyes, Lily."

Harry smiled, a warmth blossoming in his chest as he continued to take in the pleasant scene before him.

His father's expression was so full of awe, adoration, pride, and… love as he continued to gaze down at the infant that it brought a lump to Harry's throat. He didn't think he would ever see so many emotions present in his father's dark eyes, but there were, openly displayed in front of him, in plain view.

Harry could practically feel it— the love his father already had for his younger self... for him…

He didn't want to leave yet, but all too soon, the world around him shifted and dissolved, swirling away, once again.

As soon as everything had settled again, the high pitched cries of a wailing baby met Harry's ears, reverberating off the walls of this unfamiliar room he was now in.

"It's all right, Harry. Mummy's here," he heard his mother say as she reached down into a wooden cot and gathered up the crying baby into her arms. She cooed to him, attempting to soothe his cries as she slowly began walking the length of the room.

Harry looked around, realizing with a burst of warmth that this must have been his nursery. It was furnished with an assortment of baby items throughout the room.

In the far corner was the wooden cot, decorated with green blankets and a few plush animals placed within. An owl themed mobile was hanging over it, the animated owls flapping their wings and swooping down to different levels as they slowly flew in a lazy circle. Near the window, there was a rocking chair with a colorful quilt draped over the back and a small bookshelf beside it, lined with several books. When Harry glanced up, he noticed how the ceiling was similarly charmed like the one in the Great Hall at Hogwarts to reflect the sky outside, currently displaying a night sky full of glittering stars.

"Is someone being difficult?"

Harry spun around at the sudden sound of his father's voice behind him. Severus was standing in the doorway, his brows furrowed, a hint of alarm and concern showing through on his features. Apparently, his father had just arrived home; he was still dressed in his black robes and had not taken off his cloak yet. Harry figured he must have heard the baby's cries and came here straight away.

Lily sighed, and shook her head, continuing to gently bounce the baby in her arms. "He's been fussy on and off all day, more so than usual."

Severus frowned, stepping fully into the room and coming to stand beside her. He looked intently down at baby Harry, then at Lily.

"Is he all right?" he asked. "Is he ill? Should we call—"

"He's fine, Sev. I've already done a diagnosis charm on him," Lily said, attempting to reassure him. When Severus still appeared unconvinced, she continued, "And the book said it's normal for babies to be fussy sometimes, he just needs help falling asleep."

It seemed to take a while for his father to finally accept her words. When he did, the sharp lines on his face softened as he studied the still crying baby for a few more moments, before turning and heading toward the rocking chair. He shrugged out of his cloak and draped it over the back of the rocker, then returned to Lily's side.

"I'll take him now, Lily," Severus said, reaching for the lightly struggling baby.

With a small grateful smile, she carefully handed little Harry over.

Once Severus had secured him in his arms, he gave Lily a concerned look. "You're exhausted. Why don't you get some rest."

"I'm fine," Lily insisted, even as she lifted one hand to her mouth in an attempt to stifle a yawn.

Severus raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't comment as he watched Lily make her way over to the rocking chair. She sank wearily into it with a sigh, her eyes falling shut as she leaned her head back.

Harry looked back at his father as Severus shifted the baby to rest against his shoulder, then slowly began walking around the room in the same manner that Lily had, swaying gently back and forth as he rubbed a hand up and down little Harry's back. Severus was even humming softly, though Harry wasn't sure if he was consciously aware of doing it. After several moments, the cries eventually diminished into occasional whimpers until the baby yawned and fell asleep, his head tucked against the crook of his father's neck.

It was still a bit strange, thought Harry, seeing his father in this setting, like seeing an animal out of its natural habitat. If someone would have described this scene to him a month before— one of Snape actually holding Harry and helping him fall asleep, even humming softly to him— Harry would've scoffed and written it off as entirely unbelievable. Now, however, he never wanted to forget it…

"You already have a way with him, Sev," Lily said softly, and Harry could practically hear the smile in her voice before he saw it. She was now watching them as well, her eyes twinkling like the stars overhead.

There was no response from Severus to her comment, though Harry did notice the corners of his father's lips turning upwards when he glanced at her. After taking a few more steps around the room, Severus pressed a quick kiss to the top of little Harry's head, then with careful movements, lowered him into the cot.

Harry moved closer, peering down into the cot as his father rearranged the blanket over the baby and tucked a small stuffed doe— one that reminded Harry of a miniature version of his father's Patronus— beside him as little fingers curled around the doe's plush neck.

Then Severus straightened, and for a few moments, he stayed beside the cot, simply observing the peaceful rise and fall of little Harry's chest in sleep.

Just as his father was about to step away, everything shifted again, dissolving away in a whirl of color.

And before Harry knew it, the scene had reformed around him.

He found himself back in the sitting room, and judging by the festive decorations, it must be around Christmas time.

A moderately sized Christmas tree stood beside the fireplace, in the process of being decorated. His father was holding little Harry, gently bouncing the baby as he flicked his wand, levitating some shiny baubles and golden ornaments of all shapes and sizes from a box by his feet onto the tree. As each ornament floated by, little Harry watched them curiously, his fist stuffed into his mouth as he gazed at his reflection looking back at him. He reached a small, chubby hand towards them, wanting to pluck one out of the air.

When one was within little Harry's grasp, he seized it with both hands and stared at it for a moment before trying to shove it into his mouth.

"I don't believe ornaments are edible," Severus said dryly, sounding faintly amused as he raised an eyebrow down at him. Little Harry gurgled, cracking a smile up at his father, and, apparently unable to help himself, the corners of Severus' lips quirked upwards into a smile of his own in return.

Then a flash of light from behind Harry made him turn; his mother, who had been standing behind him, had snapped a photo of the moment.

"That one is certainly going in the album," said Lily, grinning as she aimed the camera for another shot.

Intrigued by his reflection in the lens, little Harry dropped the ornament he'd been trying to chew on and reached towards her camera instead, just as the flash went off again.

Severus rolled his eyes, a slight hint of exasperation in his tone as he said, "Honestly, with how much you point that contraption in his face, he's going to begin thinking it's his mother."

"This is going to be Harry's first Christmas; I want to immortalize the occasion," Lily replied, ignoring his comment, and pressed a quick kiss to little Harry's cheek. She snapped one more photo of little Harry as he smiled at her, then set the camera down and glanced up at the tree.

"And when he gets older, we could take him to pick our own Christmas tree," she said, a soft smile playing on her lips, her eyes glimmering. "It was a family tradition of mine I want to continue someday..."

As Harry listened eagerly to his mother recounting one of her family Christmas traditions, he yearned for the chance to spend more than one Christmas with his parents. He'd give anything to experience a proper Christmas with them, one that he could at least remember…

He couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like if he'd had the opportunity to grow up here with them… How different his life would be…

"The finishing touch," Severus said, as he pulled a rather antique looking angel figurine out of the box and handed it to Lily.

She accepted it with a smile and waved her wand, levitating it to the top of the tree and securing it with a sticking charm.

After Severus spelled the lights on, they settled down together on the sofa, gazing contently up at the tree as they sipped on cups of hot chocolate that Lily brought out. Little Harry sat happily on his father's lap, leaning against Severus' chest as he blinked up at the tree, mesmerized by all the colorful, glowing lights.

As Harry continued to watch them, the longing that had lodged itself in his chest seemed to grow. He still found it difficult to believe that the happy baby had actually been him all those years ago; it was almost as if he was watching someone else's life playing out in front of him, instead of his own.

Then all too soon, the room shifted, swirling away once again. The following memories were short and brief; snippets of his childhood continued to play out in front of him, giving Harry more glimpses into a life he'd been too young to remember.

His father sitting in the rocking chair, gently bouncing little Harry on his knees as the baby giggled happily… His mother rocking him to sleep, softly humming a lullaby… His father shooting colorful sparks out of his wand and sending them flying around little Harry as the baby's eyes lit up, laughing with delight as he waved his arms around, trying to catch them… His younger self in a high chair, his father's motions imitating a train as he attempted to direct the spoon into the giggling baby's mouth…

And Harry was also a bit surprised to see James in a few of the scenes, snapping pictures with Lily's camera.

"That's enough, Potter," Severus snarled as another blinding flash went off. He was in the middle of trying to land another spoonful of baby food into little Harry's squirming mouth.

"Just a couple more…" James said, continuing to click the camera as he shifted to and fro, capturing a few more shots of them. "I've finally gotten the hang of this thing!" He grinned, looking down at the camera as if he'd just discovered a new toy.

Severus scowled as he set the spoon down, and shot a glare at James, one so potent that Harry thought his father was about to snatch the camera out of James' hand and smash it to pieces.

But then everything became blurred, and in the next moment, they were gone, the scene shifting again…

"He can't even talk properly yet Sev, much less read and understand complex potion ingredients," Lily said in another memory as Severus settled in the rocking chair with little Harry on his lap.

"It's not too early to start learning," Severus shrugged, flipping the page. When little Harry pointed at a drawing of a colorful plant, babbling indecipherably, his father smirked, "At this rate, he will be a potions prodigy by the time he takes his first steps."

Lily chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. "Well with you as his dad, he just might well be."

Harry watched for a few more moments as his father murmured softly, flicking through the pages with little Harry, before the room dissolved, and reformed back into the sitting room.

"Can you say Mama now, Harry," his mother encouraged, mouthing the word slowly. "Mama."

Little Harry blinked, staring at her for a second before he smiled and let out a string of baby talk, all of which was indecipherable to Harry except for something that clearly sounded like Dada.

Lily gave a soft laugh as she pulled little Harry onto her lap. "Well done again, Harry. You've really mastered that word, haven't you?" She looked fondly down at him, smoothing a hand over his hair. "I'm sure Daddy will be back soon."

Not long after Lily finished that sentence, the front door swung open and Harry turned to see Severus enter. His father looked tense, his face set in a stony expression, a silver mask clutched in his hand. He must have just returned from a Death Eater meeting, Harry concluded, recognizing the style of the mask. Severus shed his outer robe, and then with a sharp flick of his wand, he banished it away along with the mask.

"Dada!" little Harry cried when he'd caught sight of him, crawling out of his mother's lap and towards his father.

"Harry." Severus' features softened slightly as his eyes landed on little Harry crawling his way over to him.

"Someone seems excited to see me," his father said, bending down and scooping little Harry up into his arms as soon as he reached him.

"He's always excited to see you," said Lily, smiling warmly as she rose to her feet and greeted Severus with a kiss. "How was the meeting?"

"Excruciatingly long," Severus replied, sighing as he settled into the armchair beside the fireplace with little Harry on his lap.

Lily poured him a cup of tea from the tea tray, then prodded it with the tip of her wand to reheat it.

"Well, Harry's been missing you all day," she said, handing him the tea. "Wouldn't say anything but 'dada' all afternoon, no matter what I did."

"Is that so?" Severus said, a faint smirk on his face as he raised an eyebrow down at little Harry, who had been happily playing with the buttons on his father's robes.

"Dada," little Harry smiled as he rolled his head back to look up at him, reaching up and grabbing Severus' chin from underneath. Harry watched as his father's face seemed to relax then, the rest of the tension fading away as Severus leaned down and placed a kiss onto little Harry's forehead.

And everything dissolved again, swirling and reforming back into the kitchen not a moment later.

"Look at Mummy, Harry!" his mother called, waving her hand as she attempted to get little Harry's attention. A camera hovered beside her, aimed at the toddler in the high chair who was happily tearing into a small cake.

This must have been his first birthday, Harry realized, the only one I got to celebrate with my parents…

There were clumps of cake and colorful icing all over his younger self; on his face, his hair, and his clothes. Harry suspected more ended up on him than actually in his mouth.

The camera flashed then, right as little Harry glanced up, shoving a chubby cake covered fist into his mouth.

"He's growing up so fast. Seems like only yesterday that he was born," Lily said, a soft smile playing on her lips. She looked towards Severus who was sitting on the other side of little Harry, "Before we know it, he's going to be all grown up."

"Nonsense," said Severus, placing a quick kiss to the top of little Harry's head. "He's not allowed, and he knows it."

Little Harry smiled up at his father, babbling as he held up a fistful of cake and offered it to him, which, to Harry's amusement, he ended up smearing onto Severus' shoulder.

Lily laughed as Severus scowled half-heartedly at the toddler, who was now giggling at his father.

"I believe someone needs a lesson on where exactly food is supposed to go," Severus muttered as he cleaned his robes with a quick Scourgify.

"Sorry I'm late," said a voice suddenly behind Harry, and he turned just as James enter the kitchen, carrying a long package wrapped in light blue paper with snitches zooming across it.

"Just a little something I think he'll enjoy," James smiled, setting the package on the table. He pushed it towards little Harry, who had become fascinated by the snitches. "Happy birthday, Harry."

Harry caught Severus' suspicious look at the present, his eyes narrowing.

"Thank you, James. That's very kind of you," Lily said, and began unwrapping the paper as little Harry traced the snitches with icing covered fingers.

Harry moved closer, peering into the box as his mother opened it.

It was the smallest broom Harry had ever seen, no more than three feet in length. He supposed it was like the wizard equivalent of those training bikes that Dudley had when he was first learning how to ride a bike.

"Look Harry, it's a broom," Lily smiled, taking the toy broomstick out of the box.

"Very sensible, Potter," Severus sneered, when he'd caught sight of what it was. "Gifting a just turned one year old a broom."

"Any kid would love to have this," James said, waving him off, still grinning, "and it's perfectly safe. There are safety charms imbued into it."

Severus pursed his lips, looking doubtful as he eyed the toy broom warily. It was as if he expected the broom to spontaneously start whizzing around the kitchen at any moment.

After cleaning the bits of cake from little Harry's hands and face with a wave of her wand, Lily lifted him from his high chair and settled him on the toy broom, holding him steady.

Curiously, little Harry poked the broom handle, trying to comprehend what he was sitting on. He looked up questioningly at his mother, and after receiving an encouraging smile from her, little Harry wrapped both hands around the handle. It began to slowly rise up. Granted, the broom only hovered about two feet off the floor, yet Harry still noticed his father tensing, his wand clutched in his hand just in case.

"Hang on tight, Harry," James said excitedly as little Harry began moving forward.

At first, he flew slowly around the kitchen, then, once he'd gotten used to the feeling, little Harry started picking up speed. Soon, he was zooming around the kitchen, under the table, and around their knees, laughing with joy.

Eventually, Severus managed to relax somewhat, though he never put away his wand, and his eyes constantly followed little Harry's flight around the kitchen.

"I think he really likes it," Lily smiled, as little Harry flew around her again.

James smirked, "You never know, the kid could end up becoming a Quidditch player one day."

Harry couldn't help but laugh as Severus grimaced at that, looking horrified at the prospect.

"Merlin help me if that becomes the case…" he muttered, running a hand down his face.

Again, the memory shifted, swirling away into the beginnings of another.

Now his younger self was crouched on the floor, stacking colorful blocks while his father lay sprawled beside him, handing him pieces as he concentrated on his tower.

"Today's the day," Lily said, a hint of excitement in her voice as she fiddled with the camera.

"What for?" said Severus, lifting an eyebrow up at her.

"He's going to walk today, I can feel it," said Lily. "For the past week and a half, he's been so close."

She grabbed her wand from the side table and waved it, summoning the stuffed doe that Harry had seen earlier in his younger self's cot. Then she lowered herself to the floor, focusing the camera on little Harry.

Severus gave her a mildly exasperated look as he handed another block to little Harry. "Perhaps if you stopped shoving that ridiculous device in his face all the time—"

"In case you aren't informed, Severus," Lily said sweetly. "Our son's first steps only happen once in his lifetime, and I don't plan on missing it."

Severus rolled his eyes. "You've become obsessed."

"Look at him, look at his eyes."

"He's staring at those sweets you left out. He's tried to steal them twice already."

"I see determination," Lily continued, ignoring him. "He's going to do it any moment now."

Just then, the tower little Harry had been building tumbled down, scattering the blocks in front of him. He blinked, staring at the spot where his tower had been just a moment before in confusion, seeming unable to comprehend what had just happened. Then all of a sudden his face scrunched up, tears welling up in his eyes, and Harry fully expected his younger self to start wailing any second now. That was until Severus leaned his head close to little Harry's and whispered something into the toddler's ear. It was like a switch had been flipped off then; little Harry's face calmed after a few moments as he babbled back to his father, shoving a chubby fist into his mouth.

"Look at your mother," Severus said softly, pointing in her direction. "This will go on for days if you don't do this soon, and Daddy will have to find his own means of escaping Mummy's descent into madness."

Lily picked up a block and threw it playfully at him.

"Very funny," she said, rolling her eyes at him. "Now, help your son up and get him to walk to me."

"Yes, dear." Severus smirked, lifting little Harry to his feet and holding him steady as he bobbed up and down happily.

Lily gave an amused shake of her head as she spelled the camera to hover beside her, then sat up on her knees and held up the plush doe.

"Come to Mummy, Harry!" She spoke animatedly, smiling and waving the toy in front of her. "Look at doe doe, she wants you to come to Mummy! You can do it, love, come to Mummy!"

Harry watched his younger self with amusement as the toddler clapped his hands and laughed, but made no attempts to walk towards his mother. After a moment, Severus rose to stand behind him, his long legs towering over him as little Harry gripped his father's fingers with both hands. When Severus gave a small tug, little Harry took a shaky step forward.

"Yes, that's it Harry!" said Lily, excitedly. "Come to Mummy!"

But then little Harry plopped back down onto the floor again, shoving a block in his mouth. Harry saw the amused smirk Severus sent Lily as she threw her hands up in exasperation.

"Give him time, Lily," his father said, resuming his position on the floor next to little Harry. "He'll walk when he's ready."

Lily sighed, spelling the camera off. "He should already be walking by now."

"I'm sure he'll get there eventually," Severus said as little Harry presented him with a block, which he took gently, and placed it carefully on top of the new tower little Harry had begun building. "However, it doesn't appear as if he will today."

"What if he never does?" Lily said, leaning back against the front of the sofa.

Severus frowned, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Then I suppose I'll allow him to fly that blasted broom more often."

Lily snorted as Severus got to his feet.

"I'm going to make some tea," his father said, then gave her a look. "Something to help take the edge off before you go at it again."

Just as Severus disappeared into the kitchen, little Harry looked up from his blocks.

"Dada!" he called, staring at the doorway.

Little Harry frowned in confusion when his father didn't reappear after shouting for him a second time. His bottom lip trembled slightly as he looked towards his mother, his eyes doubling in size.

"Daddy will be back in a moment, love," Lily said, giving a tired smile as Harry crawled over to her.

She carded a hand through his hair as he settled himself on her lap.

"I bet you can walk," his mother said, as little Harry pushed himself up to stand on her legs, leaning his weight against her. "You're just holding out on us."

Little Harry tugged lightly on her red hair, his brows furrowing.

"Dada," he mumbled, along with a string of baby talk Harry couldn't understand.

Lily smiled, humming thoughtfully. "Well if you're missing Dada so much, why don't you walk over to him."

Little Harry blinked at her, and after a few seconds, he crawled out of her lap and seemed to head back towards the blocks. But then Harry watched in surprise as his younger self slowly got to his feet and began toddling his way toward the kitchen, slightly wobbly, but unassisted. Harry thought he was going rather quick for a toddler who had just taken his first steps.

There was a gasp from his mother, then, "Sev— Severus!" she shrieked, scrambling to her knees.

His father practically flew to the doorway, appearing alarmed, wand in his hand. Lily pointed at little Harry walking towards him, and when Severus' gaze landed on the toddler, his jaw dropped.

"Is he—"

"He's actually walking!" Lily seemed mesmerized, unable to tear her eyes away from little Harry.

Then, suddenly remembering the camera, she frantically reached over and grabbed it.

"Keep going, Harry!" Lily said, then gestured at Severus. "Move back further into the kitchen Sev, let him follow you!"

But his father had already kneeled down on one knee, ready to scoop little Harry into his arms when he walked into them a moment later.

"Well done, Harry," Severus said, his eyes lighting up, an unmistakable look of pride on his face when he lifted little Harry up and bounced him up and down in celebration, making the toddler squeal with delight.

"Did you get that?" he asked Lily, his eyes never leaving little Harry, who had begun lightly playing with his father's hair.

"Just barely," Lily replied, setting the camera down. "I nearly missed it."

"Did you see how fast he was moving?"

"I couldn't believe it!" She kissed little Harry's cheek and beamed, "He didn't even need help! He just stood up and started walking to you all by himself!"

"He's brilliant," Severus smiled, pressing a quick kiss to the side of little Harry's head. "I would expect nothing less."

Then the room dissolved, swirled away again, and since Harry had been so enraptured by the happy memories, the next memory caught him off guard.

Lily sat in the armchair, staring silently into the fireplace as if waiting for something to appear in it. And not a moment later, the Floo roared to life and his father stumbled out of the fire. Harry felt his blood go cold in his veins. Without warning, Severus collapsed heavily onto the floor.

Lily gasped, flicking her wand at the fireplace Severus had just appeared from before rushing to his side, kneeling beside his fallen form.

He looked awful; Harry assumed he must have just returned from a meeting with Voldemort.

Severus' robes were torn, patches of blood soaking through them as his entire body trembled uncontrollably. On his forehead, there was a deep gash that was bleeding, and he appeared deathly pale, as if he'd lost too much blood already.

"Severus?" she called, her hand scrambling to his neck, searching for a pulse as she continued to call his name.

There was no response.

"James!" Lily shouted over her shoulder, a note of panic in her voice.

"What's with all the—" James froze in the doorway when he caught sight of Severus on the floor. "Bloody hell! What happened to him?"

"I don't know, help me move him onto the sofa," Lily said, attempting to remain calm. "We need to call Madam Pomfrey."

The scene shifted again, and quickly reformed a second later...

His parents were now sitting opposite each other at the kitchen table.

"You don't have to do this."

"Lily..."

"There must be another way."

"The Dark Lord nearly discovered everything," Severus said, running a hand tiredly down his face. "And he's not finished with my interrogation."

Harry noted with some relief how his father looked better than he did in the last memory, seeming relatively healed as the gash on his forehead was now just a slight bruise, though he still appeared worn and pale.

"Then don't go, don't answer his summons," Lily said, her eyes pleading. "I'm sure Dumbledore can find someone else to spy."

"There is no one else with the proper skills to deceive the Dark Lord," Severus said, releasing a heavy sigh before continuing, "The outcome of this war is dependent upon my position in his ranks."

He reached across the table and clasped her hands in his, speaking softly, "We have discussed this before; if at any point this all becomes too dangerous to continue, I will step away, remove my memories until the war ends."

Lily shook her head, still determined, "You don't have to, we can find another way… maybe leave the country or—"

"Nowhere would be safe. He will stop at nothing to get to Harry," Severus said grimly. "Not until he's defeated."

Lily simply stared at him for a long moment, her eyes glimmering as the truth in Severus' words seemed to sink in.

She swallowed, lowering her eyes and drew in a trembling breath. "What if it never ends?"

"Not soon enough, but it will, eventually," Severus said quietly, gently squeezing her hands.

"When? A year? Five? Fifty?" Lily burst out in exasperation, her voice wavering as she continued, "By then, Harry would have grown up and left the house, having never known his father."

Severus swallowed hard, glancing away, his resolve seeming to falter for a moment as his eyes landed on little Harry in the sitting room, playing quietly, completely oblivious to his parent's conversation.

"If it keeps him safe…" He took in a deep, steadying breath, then returned his gaze to her. "I will do anything to keep you and Harry safe."

Lily closed her eyes, a tear escaping as she did, before she lowered her head, pressing a hand to her face.

A multitude of emotions flashed across Severus' face, too quickly for Harry to decipher, as his father watched her for a long moment. Harry could tell Severus was struggling with this, just as Lily was, but he wasn't breaking down yet. He was trying to remain strong, to stay resolute in his decision.

"When will you do it?" Lily asked softly.

Severus cleared his throat, hesitating before answering, "Tonight."

Lily looked back up at him sharply. "Tonight?"

"Before the Dark Lord decides to summon me again," Severus confirmed, sighing sadly. "Dumbledore has arranged for you and Harry to move into a safe house with Potter."

Lily frowned. "A bit of a short notice, don't you think?"

"I wish it wasn't," Severus replied softly.

A heavy silence fell over them then, the only sounds coming from the consistent ticking of a clock on the wall.

Harry desperately wanted to warn them, to reach out and convince his father not to leave, because he knew what happened next...

Severus glanced at the clock, then rose to his feet. "I'll put Harry to bed."

He received no response from Lily as he left the room, pausing in the doorway for just a moment to observe little Harry playing with an animated toy dragon that was flying around him.

"Harry."

Little Harry instantly looked towards him, his eyes lighting up when he saw his father. A smile spread across his face as he got to his feet, and made his way to Severus, more steady than Harry had last seen him.

"Dada!" he said when he reached his father, raising his arms up.

Severus managed a small smile as he picked little Harry up, holding him close.

"Let's get you to bed," his father said, and little Harry babbled back, resting his head against Severus' shoulder.

Harry followed his father to the nursery, where he settled in the rocking chair with little Harry on his lap.

"How about a bedtime story?" Severus said, plucking a book from the shelf.

"Book!" little Harry said, smiling up at him.

Severus kissed the top of little Harry's head, then opened the book in front of them and began to read. Harry didn't know how much time had passed as he watched them; his father kept reading until little Harry couldn't keep his eyes open any longer and drifted off to sleep in his arms, curled up against his chest.

It seemed to hit him, then.

An overwhelming sense of grief seemed to wash over his father, as if the weight of all he was leaving behind had finally settled in.

Severus drew in a tremulous breath and held little Harry close as the toddler continued to sleep peacefully, entirely unaware of his father's anguish. He rested his cheek against the top of little Harry's head, and closed his eyes as a few tears slipped down his face and into little Harry's hair.

Harry's chest tightened and he had to swallow past the lump in the throat. He'd never seen his father like this, and almost felt as if he should look away, not wanting to intrude on such a private moment.

Severus didn't look quite so strong now. He looked almost broken, as if his entire world was collapsing in front of him, but then again, it was. Harry couldn't even begin to imagine having to make such a decision— to leave your family and remove all the happy memories spent with them…

After several minutes, Severus quickly wiped the tears away with the back of his hand, then, rose from the rocking chair. He didn't go directly to the cot, instead, he took a few steps around the room with little Harry cradled against his chest, seemingly wanting to prolong the inevitable for a few more minutes. Little Harry subconsciously snuggled closer against him, his head tucked into the crook of his father's neck.

Then, with a heavy sigh, Severus slowly made his way over to the cot and pressed one final kiss to little Harry's forehead before reluctantly lowering him in. When little Harry began to whimper at the loss of contact, his father reached down and gently stroked the top of his head, smoothing his thumb soothingly over little Harry's forehead to calm him.

Severus lingered for a long moment beside the cot, simply staring down at little Harry, then glanced around at the nursery, as if he was attempting to commit all this to memory. Even though Harry knew his father would have no recollections of it after this night.

"Sleep well, Harry," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Severus gave one long, last look at little Harry, before he stepped away and made to leave the room.

As Harry turned to follow his father, he wished his younger self would start fussing again, just to further delay his father's departure.

He found Lily standing in the doorway, apparently having been watching them. Her eyes were red, as if she'd been crying, but there were no tears at the moment. She gave a small smile, though it was forced, as Severus walked towards her, and shut the door softly behind him.

"You must conceal Harry's true appearance," Severus told her once they were back in the sitting room. He swallowed, the next words seeming to come out with great difficulty, "He needs to look like Potter's son."

Lily sighed sadly and nodded her understanding, now seeming resigned to accept his decision.

"Severus..." she began, but her voice broke.

Severus went to her and gently cupped her cheek with the palm of his hand. Lily leaned into his touch, and closed her eyes for a moment, taking in a shuddering breath. When a tear slipped from her eyes, Severus swiped it away with his thumb, then looked deeply into them.

"I love you, Lily," he said softly. "Whatever happens…"

"I know," Lily gave him a small smile, but it trembled and didn't reach her eyes. "I love you too, Sev."

Severus leaned down and pressed his lips to hers for a long moment, then drew back, and pulled her into his embrace, holding her close.

"Just… please be safe," she whispered against his chest.

"You as well," Severus murmured. "Both of you."

He tightened his hold on her, burying his face in her hair. They remained like that for a long while, his father seeming to draw strength from just holding her, neither willing to let the other go.

But it was only a matter of time...

The Floo suddenly flared to life behind Harry, startling him, and he turned to see Dumbledore step into the room, brushing some soot off his robes.

"Are you ready, Severus?"

With a deep, trembling breath, Severus drew back slightly, and placed one final kiss to Lily's forehead before he fully pulled away from her. He looked into her eyes one last time, then turned to Dumbledore and gave a short nod.

"Wait, Dad," Harry breathed, and momentarily forgetting himself, he reached a hand out to his father, as if to stop him, but was only met with empty air as Severus walked on by, following Dumbledore out.

The next thing Harry knew, he was soaring weightlessly up through darkness until he landed heavily back in his father's study, falling to his knees.

Severus didn't know how long he stayed there, collapsed on the settee, his body still slightly trembling after he withdrew from the Pensieve. With deep, shuddering breaths, Severus slumped forward, burying his face in his hands as he tried to collect his thoughts, attempting to organize the jumble of overwhelming emotions behind his shields.

He remembered now; all those memories returning to him, flitting across his mind and fitting neatly into place like long lost puzzle pieces.

Everything finally sunk in, so much more than when Severus first received Lily's letter. He hadn't exactly doubted her then, but after seeing everything they had been— everything they could have still been— it suddenly felt much more… real.

Seeing Lily again after all these years... alive, right in front of him, close enough to touch and hold in his arms... All those precious moments they had spent together as a family with their son...

It was a life with a wife and a child that in all these years Severus never allowed himself to imagine having. Ever since he'd taken the mark and sworn loyalty to the Dark Lord, having a family had been deemed unattainable for him…

But he did have a family. Lily had been there. She had been his anchor; the beacon of light that had led him out of the darkness he'd been rapidly descending towards, and Severus' miserable existence had held no meaning until Lily gave him a new purpose, something to fight for. She had been determined to make this work, to not allow the war to govern their lives as much as possible.

If only he had decided to stay with them… If he had just considered another option…

He should have listened to her— Severus should have taken his family and fled the country the first chance he got. Even if they ended up on the run for the rest of their lives, at least he would have been right there with them, to protect them, like he should have been all along.

To hell with the war; Severus should have quit this charade he'd been playing for Dumbledore. No matter how valuable his position was to the cause, his family should have been his priority first and foremost.

Then, perhaps, Lily would be alive now, his family would still be whole, and their son would not have been marked or damaged by a childhood with those filthy Muggles. Harry would have been cherished, loved by his family, not neglected and abused, and burdened by the weight of the wizarding world on his thin shoulders.

Severus released a long, trembling breath, recalling the moment Lily had announced her pregnancy. Time had seemed to stand still for a few seconds, a swell of emotions coursing through him as Severus attempted to process the news. Lily had smiled expectantly at him, her green eyes sparkling as she waited for his reaction, and Severus tried to focus on the initial joy and exhilaration that her words brought up, but he couldn't suppress the sliver of fear that also crept up from within. A fear that he would be no better a father to their child than his own drunken one had been to him.

There was simply too much darkness inside him with everything he'd seen and done, and Severus never wanted their child to emulate him, afraid his mere presence could taint them. Lily had apparently thought otherwise, and it was nothing short of a miracle that Harry had inherited his mother's inherent goodness and kind heart.

Of course, they had also been in the midst of a losing war at the time, and the prospect of bringing up a child in this uncertain world was terrifying, but Severus had vowed he would do anything to keep his family safe...

You failed. This is all your fault...

Severus' breath hitched, the guilt tearing through his insides, his throat much too tight as the memory of that awful night replayed in his mind. Lily's lifeless body crumpled on the floor, her face deathly pale against her vibrant red hair that spread out around her like a pool of blood… No matter how hard Severus tried, he couldn't stifle the gut-wrenching sobs that erupted from his chest, making it nearly impossible to draw breath as the image burned itself behind his eyelids.

He'd do anything for the chance to undo his mistakes, to beg for her forgiveness and apologize for leaving…

I'm so sorry, Lily. Everything is my fault…

And then, in all these years that his mind had tortured him with images of Lily's crumpled body, Severus realized there had been someone else in the memory that he'd never acknowledged before.

Harry...

Severus now remembered glancing in the direction of the broken crib, seeing a mop of dark hair, and a thin trickle of blood oozing from the wound on his son's forehead. Small hands clutched at the splintered wood, reaching through the bars, grasping the empty air as he cried out for his mother. And then when Harry's terrified green eyes settled on Severus, his son had immediately called out to him, desperately turning to him for comfort. But Severus had completely ignored him, his attention entirely focused on Lily at the time…

If only he'd known then. How different their lives would be now…

But Severus had sealed their fates, had destined his son to this life— a life of being constantly targeted by a mad man and held as the savior of the wizarding world. Not to mention a neglectful childhood growing up with those despicable Muggles.

And all these years, Severus realized he had only contributed to the boy's sufferings. He had taken every possible opportunity to exact his hurt and revenge from a pathetic childhood rivalry on the boy who was his own son all along, making Harry's life more difficult than it already was.

Another ripple of guilt coursed through him. His fear had come true. Severus had essentially become his father, and ultimately, his son had it worse, much worse than Severus had growing up.

How could Severus possibly hope to make it up to his son, given all the damage he'd caused? Harry certainly deserved more, so much more than anything Severus could ever hope to provide him…

A small knock on his door jolted Severus from his self-loathing then, and he froze when he heard Harry's voice coming from the doorway. Severus kept his face buried in his hands, unable to respond. He didn't think he was composed enough to keep his voice steady anyway.

Severus heard Harry take a few steps into the room, then the footsteps paused, and Severus assumed his son must have spotted the Pensieve on his desk. Harry must be curious about the contents, just as he was last year in Severus' office during those Occlumency lessons. Severus' thoughts were confirmed when his son hesitantly asked for permission to view the memories, and after a brief moment, Severus gave a small nod of his head in response.

Harry had as much right to see the memories as Severus did.

And Severus couldn't even begin to imagine what his son would think of them…

For several moments, Harry stayed sitting on the floor, not bothering to get up just yet.

Everything he had seen continued to flash through his mind, his parents' voices echoing inside his head. They were glimpses into a life he could have had, and all those times he'd spent locked in his cupboard, fantasizing about his parents and wondering what they were like…

Now, he knew for certain that they had been so happy together as a family... His mother and father…

Harry drew in a steadying breath, then raised his head and glanced around the room, hoping to find the one person he wanted to see the most right now.

It didn't take long for Harry to spot him. His father was still slumped forward on the settee, in exactly the same position as when Harry had entered the Pensieve. Though it felt as if a lifetime had already passed in the mere minutes he'd been gone.

A bit shakily, Harry pushed himself to his feet and made his way over to his father. There was no immediate response from Severus when Harry gently lowered himself down onto the settee beside him, and for a few moments, they simply sat there in silence. After everything that Harry had seen, there was so much that he wanted to talk to his father about, but now, he wasn't sure how to start.

Harry fidgeted absently with the hem of his shirt, wondering what his father must be thinking about the memories. He couldn't tell at the moment; Severus still had not moved, his elbows resting upon his knees and his face buried in his hands, his dark hair concealing him like a curtain. And just as Harry was about to break the silence, his father beat him to it.

"I should have listened to her…" Severus said softly, an unusual quiver in his voice as he rubbed a hand down his face and finally raised his head. Though he didn't turn towards Harry, and in the next moment, he was on his feet, beginning to pace the length of the room.

Harry didn't know how to respond to that as he watched his father's movements back and forth, noticing the redness around the man's dark eyes.

"I should have done more, should have considered more options," Severus continued, his hands clenched into fists at his side, looking everywhere but at Harry. He ran an agitated hand through his hair, releasing a long breath. "If only I didn't overhear that god forsaken prophecy..."

"But you didn't know who it was referring to," Harry said when Severus trailed off, remembering his father's reaction to that in the memories. That new piece of information had come as a surprise to him, but he hadn't lingered over it. Instead, Harry had been more focused on his father's frantic reaction and guilt over what he had unknowingly done.

Severus sighed, pausing in front of the fireplace. "Even afterwards, I should have spelled Lucius to keep quiet or... anything to prevent the information from reaching the Dark Lord." He turned his back on Harry and clutched the mantelpiece as if to help steady himself. Then in a softer voice, he said, "I shouldn't have left…"

"You just did what you thought was best for your family," Harry said empathetically, feeling the need to defend his father's decision. "I mean— I can understand that—"

"I'm the reason the Dark Lord decided to target you," Severus cut in, scowling as he sharply spun around, finally facing Harry. "I'm the reason you were sent to live with your despicable relatives!"

There was an indistinguishable gleam in his father's dark eyes, and Harry could do nothing but stare back at him, a bit at a loss for words at the moment.

Was his father anticipating Harry to blame him for everything that went wrong in his life?

But Harry didn't, not at all. Perhaps, if he'd found out a few months ago his thoughts on the matter would be entirely different, but at this moment, after everything he'd seen in those memories, Harry couldn't hold it against the man. Of course, his life would be completely different if it wasn't for the prophecy, but to Harry, the blame rested solely on Voldemort who had been the one to decide to target Harry after hearing it.

"That's not your fault, it was all Voldemort's," Harry said with conviction. He shook his head, clearing his throat, before continuing, "Like mum said— you shouldn't blame yourself. Maybe it was just meant to be this way..."

Severus stared at him as if just seeing him for the first time, and the look on his usually stoic face made Harry's chest tighten.

"And you don't know what would have happened if you stayed— Voldemort could have killed you too…" Harry added, when his father didn't respond for several moments. "At least I still have one parent alive…"

There was a deep sigh from Severus, grief etched on his features, his shoulders drooping slightly.

"You deserve better," his father said softly.

Harry swallowed past the lump forming in his throat, his chest suddenly feeling much too tight.

Was his father expecting Harry to reject him?

But after everything Harry had just seen, how could he?

Of course the man had been awful, cruel, and a downright git the past five years at school, but this was also the same man who had loved Harry when he was a baby, and had recently done so much for him, so much more than anyone else ever had before. He had bought Harry new clothes and school supplies, gave him his own room, helped him with his schoolwork, and even spent time flying with him… It was everything Harry had dreamed of in having a caring parent.

And now he finally had it. What more could he ask for?

Before he knew it, Harry was on his feet, quickly closing the distance between them. And without another thought, Harry wrapped his arms around Severus' middle, burying his face in his father's dark robes.

"No, I'm happy here with you," Harry whispered, and after just a moment's hesitation, he murmured, "Dad."

The response was immediate.

Strong arms embraced Harry in return, his father's hand coming up to cup the back of Harry's head, holding him crushingly against a firm chest. The comforting scent of herbs and spices filled his senses, and Harry clutched the back of Severus' robes with everything he had, just as tightly as his father was holding onto him. Closing his eyes, Harry relished the warmth that enveloped him, feeling as if he'd finally found home.

Harry savored the feeling, stashing it away in his mind, wanting to commit it to memory.

"You are like your mother in that regard," Severus whispered after several quiet moments, running his fingers gently through Harry's hair. "Entirely too forgiving for your own good."

"There's nothing to forgive," Harry mumbled against his father's chest, giving a small shake of his head. "At least I have my dad back now, if nothing else."

After lunch, Harry followed his father as they made their way through the manor. It was the second door past the potions lab, which Harry had never opened before that Severus stopped in front of. He didn't exactly know what to expect as his father twisted the knob and led him down a dark and narrow set of stone steps.

Once they reached the bottom, his father flicked his wand, and the torches fixed on the walls flared to life. The sudden light was blinding at first, and Harry had to squint, waiting for his eyes to adjust. When they finally did, he found that he was now in a large, rather spacious room.

There were worn cushions piled in a corner of the room and a few various mobile targets stacked next to what appeared to be a rather life-like looking dummy. Columns and barriers made of stone— what Harry assumed to be used as obstacles or objects to dodge behind— were scattered around the room, and Harry watched as his father waved his hand, causing them to move from the center of the room and organize themselves neatly against a wall. In another corner, there was a towering wooden bookshelf, overstuffed with books, and as Harry moved closer, he noticed they were mostly books about defensive spells, everything from theory to application, and even a few on dark curses.

Harry looked around in a slow circle, examining his surroundings in amazement. It reminded him of the space that the Room of Requirement provided when they had needed a place to practice Defense. His father had told him he would start their Defense lessons today, and now, Harry was rather looking forward to it.

"This room is brilliant," Harry said, amazed. There was another door he just noticed to his right beside the bookcase, and he wondered what was beyond there.

"More equipment is stored in there," his father told him, noticing Harry's inquiring look. "I believe my great grandfather designed this room to have optimal dueling features."

Harry smiled. "I mean— It looks like you really do have everything here."

Severus nodded. "Well then, let's begin with a duel, shall we?" his father said, withdrawing his wand.

Harry did the same, then they both took a few steps back, giving each other enough distance between them.

"Show me what you're capable of," his father said, indicating for Harry to make the first move.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted.

With a flick of his wrist, Severus effortlessly deflected it, as if he was swatting away an annoying insect, and in response, he cast a Stinging Hex.

Harry just barely managed to block it with a Protego.

"Stupefy!" he tried next.

Again, his father easily blocked it, and for the next several minutes, they continued to fire spells at each other. At one point, Harry tried sending a quick succession of any jinxes and hexes that came to mind in an attempt to catch his father off guard. Each one missed their target, and Harry couldn't help but watch in awe as Severus smoothly sidestepped out of the way, effectively dodging the oncoming spells. Then with a well placed Shield Charm, his father sent the last few flying back at Harry.

Just as Harry managed to conjure a shield to block those spells, his father sent out his own spells in such a rapid succession that Harry had to lunge to the right, duck down, and dive to the left to avoid being hit. Some of the spells Severus was using were unfamiliar to him, and as the duel continued, Harry realized that his father no longer said the incantations anymore.

They were much more difficult to block, Harry found, noticing how quickly his father seemed to be able to cast them. It had been a while since Harry had been this active, and he soon found himself quickly becoming tired from the constant dodging back and forth.

Another stream of spells sped towards him, and Harry tried to cast a strong enough Shield Charm to block them. It was not enough. As an orange jet of light slammed into his shield, Harry felt a painful tingle shoot up his arm before his shield shattered like glass, the force knocking him off his feet.

Harry gasped, feeling the wind knocked out of him as he landed heavily against the unforgiving stone floor. For a few moments, he simply laid there, trying to catch his breath.

No wonder his father was rumored to want the Defense position so badly; the man was a skilled duelist that was for sure. Certainly someone not to be messed with, Harry thought. Severus was a powerful wizard, and Harry hoped that one day, spells could come as effortlessly to him as it does for his father.

"Are you hurt?" Severus asked, gazing down at him with a look of concern.

Harry shook his head. "I'm fine," he replied, giving a grateful smile as he accepted his father's outstretched hand and pulled himself back to his feet.

"You are certain?" Severus said, checking him up and down, as if looking for any hidden bruises or broken bones.

Harry nodded, trying to calm his heavy breathing as he brushed himself off. "How are you able to cast spells so quickly without saying anything?"

"Practice," his father responded simply, smirking.

"Can you teach me?"

"Of course," said Severus, "I believe it is a skill you need to master." He retrieved Harry's wand from across the room and handed it back to him. "Do you know what is the advantage of using nonverbal spellcasting?"

Harry swiped at his glistening face, taking a moment to formulate a response, before he answered, "I suppose it gives an element of surprise. Your opponent won't know what spell you're using so they can't easily defend themselves."

"Correct," his father replied, the corners of his lips pulling upwards briefly. "Quite beneficial, however, it requires focus and concentration, not unlike Occlumency."

Harry nodded, determined to try extra hard to master this. Well, hopefully, he would have more success with this than he did with Occlumency.

"Now, try to disarm me without speaking," said Severus, backing away a few steps.

Harry raised his wand, focusing on the incantation in his mind.

Expelliarmus!

He kept repeating the incantation in his mind, shouting it, waiting for the spell to erupt from his wand. He thought he was rather good at this spell, though he had never cast it without speaking before. Harry had to bite down on his lip, using every effort to not let the words slip out. Nothing happened for several moments, and his father waited, his dark eyes watching Harry closely. The most that Harry could produce were a few sparks that flitted out from the tip of his wand.

"Expelliarmus," Harry couldn't help but whisper, growing slightly frustrated with himself, and a jet of red light shot towards his father, who blocked it with a short wave of his wand.

Apparently, his father also had an acute sense of hearing as well.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I believe I said nonverbally?"

Harry sighed. "Sorry, I couldn't help it."

"What were you thinking?" his father asked. He didn't seem irritated, merely curious as he looked at Harry with narrowed eyes.

"I suppose I'm just thinking the incantation in my head... well, actually shouting it more like."

Severus nodded. "Imagine the spell leaving your wand," he said patiently. "Concentrate on your intent."

Taking his father's advice, Harry concentrated hard on what he wanted to happen instead of the incantation this time. For several moments, he tried to imagine his father's wand flying out of his hand...

Then to Harry's surprise, a bright red jet of light actually left his wand and sped towards his father. Granted, it only caused Severus' wand to slightly twitch, but at least something happened.

Harry blinked. "I actually did it," he murmured.

"It's a start," his father said, looking oddly impressed. "Most people are not able to achieve that on their second attempt."

Harry smiled, feeling a newfound sense of confidence as he practiced it a few more times. Eventually, he was able to cast it more quickly and without thinking too hard.

"Now, try to repel me," Severus said after a while, aiming his wand at Harry.

Harry tensed, waiting for whatever spell his father was about to launch at him.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Protego!" Harry shouted, out of instinct.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Without speaking," his father reminded him.

"Sorry," Harry said, swiping his hair away from his eyes.

His father jerked his head, dismissing the apology before sending another spell at Harry.

After a while, Harry lost count of how many failed attempts he'd made already, and he fully expected his father to become impatient at his slow progress, but Severus didn't stop, continuing to fire spells at him without missing a beat.

"Protego."

This time, it was a whisper rather than a shout, though Harry still felt like a failure.

Severus finally paused, appearing thoughtful for a few moments. "Let me see…"

Harry furrowed his brows and waited.

What is he—

"Silencio!"

It happened so quickly, Harry wouldn't have been able to block it, even with a verbal spell, and he suddenly found himself unable to make a sound as his father lifted his wand again.

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry's wand flew out of his hand, landing with a clatter several feet away. Severus retrieved it with a quick summoning spell, then tossed it back to him.

"Concentrate," his father said, giving Harry a moment to prepare before taking aim again.

"Expelliarmus!"

Protego!

Harry focused as hard as he could, unable to help mouthing the incantation. Somehow, he managed to conjure a partial shield this time, catching his wand just before it hit the floor.

"Making progress," Severus said, giving a small nod of approval. "Again."

Harry didn't know how he did it, but this time, the strength of his Shield Charm was actually powerful enough to rebound his father's Disarming Charm.

"Well done," his father said, a look of pride flashing across his features. With a swish of his wand, he canceled the Silencing Charm.

Harry smiled, feeling that familiar warmth flowing through him as he lifted his wand again, ready for his father to cast another spell his way.