Lily was the first to ask. At the time my greatest secret was little more than that I wore only second hand clothes, I hated my father, and my mother was a witch. I never had to tell because Lily was too curious for her own good and had me figured out before I could get the courage to tell her. It's too bad that I could not tell her the one secret that defines me and who I have become. I cannot tell her, because she already knew.

Albus was the second to ask me. I never did tell him you know. I lied instead and told him of my misguided foray into the dark arts and the world of death and destruction. Something else I am deeply ashamed about, but it comes nowhere close to my most guarded inner thoughts.

Voldemort was the third to inquire. "What is your deepest, most darkest secret Severus? I can make all your wishes come true you know. You have but to ask and I will give it to you for the taking." The vile man tried to pry the information from my mind, but there is no prying what cannot be found there. The information is embedded so deeply into my heart, that I know every fiber of my being reeks of it, but Voldemort never did prize away even the outer layers to see what hides inside.

My name is Severus Tobias Snape, and I have a secret that I don't know how to tell. I'm dying inside a little each day... it's my own private hell.

7 Years Earlier

He watched from the shadow that was his long hair falling into his face. Dark eyes marked a man on a mission. Severus Snape watched as a slight boy with messy black hair and dark green eyes peered around a corner. The child had no idea that a professor was down the corridor behind him peering from around his own corner. He looked left, and then right, and then darted down the hall towards the kitchens. How he'd even figured out where the kitchens were, Severus didn't know. An older student must have told him. It was only his third day as a first year, and by all rights he should still have been turned around and half lost while navigating the castle at this point. It took most students weeks to figure out where they were going.

Severus hurried purposefully to the corner Harry Potter had just vacated and watched as the boy tickled the portrait of the pear and it opened up for him. When he went into the kitchen Severus strode forward and went to the portrait himself. It hadn't swung closed all the way yet and he held it open, no longer hiding himself as he stood in the frame.

It was late and there were no house elves in the kitchen. They were all probably back in their living quarters for the night, or else off doing student laundry or cleaning common rooms while the children slept. He peered at his watch for only a moment to confirm that it was eleven thirty, well past curfew. Across the dimly lit kitchen he could see the small boy working hard to try to pry open the large and heavy refrigerator door. It was made of wood and the child had to lean back with all of his weight to get it open. Was he really sneaking out and wandering through the castle just to make himself a sandwich? It appeared so. Harry worked on a sandwich for a full five minutes without turning to see his professor in the doorway, arms crossed as he leaned on the frame.

Severus studied him, as he had been doing for the past three days. He suspected the child knew he was being watched, he'd caught him staring at him enough times. The truth was, Severus could not help himself but to look. This was Harry Potter. This was Lily's child. He had her eyes, but his hair he inherited from his father. Black and unruly, and even a bit long though Severus knew that was up to preference. He had wondered what the child would look like by the time he came to Hogwarts. He had only seen him once as a baby, and one other time as a small child. He couldn't help himself then either. He'd gone to the Dursley's just to see the boy's face on his fifth birthday. He'd even left a small present of plastic army men wrapped in green paper on the step with Harry's name on it. Dumbledore had asked him to check on the boy a few years later but he had refused. It hurt too much to see a son he could not have. He was tormented enough these past eleven years without having a meddling old fool forcing him to torment himself some more. Now he was here though, where Severus could keep an eye on him, and possibly learn about him. None of this nonsense about being safe where his mother's blood resided. Severus would not tell Dumbledore about Harry even if he wanted to, because he knew it would make no difference. Dumbledore could not know. Nobody could, because contrary to popular belief, Severus was certain that Voldemort was not dead. He had been a spy before, and he would be one again, and Harry's safety would be compromised if anyone found out the truth about his true parentage.

Severus' eyes kept track of the boy as he put the ingredients back in the fridge and then put his sandwich on a plate and prepared to turn around. It was a very large sandwich and he was just wondering if the child would be able to eat it all when he turned around, stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Severus, and dropped his sandwich on the floor. Harry stood stalk still, and if it had been just a little darker, he might have managed to blend right into the shadows in the large kitchen.

"That is a waste of a perfectly good sandwich Mr. Potter." He stood straight and came all the way into the kitchen, finally letting the pear portrait close. Harry's eyes kept track of him all the way across the kitchen. Severus stooped to pick up the sandwich and took the plate from Harry's hand to place the sandwich back on it. He set it on the counter.

"Do I- do I have to eat it?" Harry questioned. From the shake in the voice Severus knew the boy felt he was hazarding it.

"You made it."

He watched in amazement as Harry reached forward and picked up the now dirty sandwich. He reached out and grabbed his wrist, startling the child.

"I did not say you had to eat it. If you are hungry you should make another one."

Harry's eyes were still locked on his own. Why did the child do that? Why didn't he look away, or look embarrassed? He looked scared.

"You are not in trouble Potter. Make your sandwich so you can go back to bed, where you should be at this hour."

After staring at him for a few more seconds, Harry finally put the sandwich down and turned back to the fridge, though it looked like he was reluctant.

He hurried through making another sandwich (though Severus noted it had less on it than the first one did), and then put the ingredients back away.

"Sit and eat," Severus told him. He waved up the lights a little with his wand and pointed at a stool at the wooden counter. As Harry sat down, Severus summoned a glass to him and opened the fridge to pour pumpkin juice. Harry looked wary when he set it next to his plate and took a seat on the stool across from him. He chewed slowly and silently, eyes never leaving the Potion Master's.

"How come I'm not in trouble?" he asked after he ate the last bite.

"You should be," Severus said. Any other student would have been, but any other student was not his son. Harry stared at him.

"You want to know why you're not in trouble for being out after curfew, but you got in trouble for taking notes on the first day of class?"

Harry gave a single strained nod. Severus guessed the boy had heard all the rumors about him, the bat of the dungeons, supreme detention giver, greasy git of Hogwarts. He didn't know for certain but he did know he had done everything to enforce that view in the last three days. He'd already taken ten points from the boy and had not bothered to give them back, not even in secret.

"I have a secret," Severus said, and then he watched for the boy's reaction. There was none. He simply stared and listened, arms folded in front of him on the wooden counter. Severus drank in his appearance again. He was really too small to be eleven years old. Maybe nine. He noted that the boy wasn't wearing his glasses and wondered why.

"I will tell it to you," Severus said after long silent moments, "if you promise not to tell. I have never told anyone."

Harry didn't answer for several seconds but finally gave a single nod. His eyes were still locked and weary but a little curious now. Severus gave him a hard look and then pointed and said, "I'm taking it on your word that you won't tell. A man is nothing if he is not good on his word."

"I won't tell."

"Good. Because it has to do with you."

Harry raised his brows but stayed quiet.

"I knew your mother," Severus said. "We were friends before school, and we were friends in school. She was in Gryffindor, and I was in Slytherin."

"My mother?" his voice was almost a whisper.

"She was beautiful and smart, and witty." Severus paused as he remembered the jokes Lily used to make and how they would go over James Potter's head. It was one of the many things he loved about her.

"Your secret- is that you knew my mother?" Harry asked, still wary.

Severus shook his head. "No. People knew we were friends." He took a deep breath. He hadn't intended to come down here to tell his son his secret. He wanted to though. He didn't want to take it to the grave with him. No one else deserved to know, but Harry did.

"Harry," he said quietly. "You've always been told that your parents were James and Lily Potter. That's what everyone thinks. Your mother was Lily, but only she and I knew the truth about your father."

Harry's lips had parted now as he hung on every word. Severus wasn't sure if the boy had deduced the meaning of his words yet or if he was simply still in shock that the hated Potion's Master of the dungeons was telling him about his parents in the middle of the night.

"I am your father."

Harry frowned for a moment and then bit his lip. He looked down at the table and Severus could see that he was trying to work through what had just been said. He was ok with giving the child time to work it out. He'd just told his secret, the secret he'd harbored for years, and he needed time to process that himself. It was like letting an important piece of him go. But he hoped he would be getting an even more important piece back. If not today or tomorrow, then next week, or next year. He would wait until Harry was ready to process it.

"If you're my father," he asked quietly, looking up again, "why did you leave me with the Dursleys?"

"It wasn't my choice. The Headmaster gained legal custody of you the day after your mother died. Even if I had come forward then, you would have still ended up with your mother's family."

"Why?"

"The Headmaster has great political pull with the wizengamot and in the Ministry. He was on the leading edge of the war against Voldemort. He decided that since your mother died rather than give you up to Voldemort, that she'd accidentally placed a spell on you. He believes that as long as you reside with her family, that you'll be safe."

"From what?"

"Voldemort."

Harry stared at him. Severus didn't know what he'd expected from the boy, but he was taking it very well he thought.

"Voldemort is dead, and I don't want to live with the Dursleys."

Severus' heart skipped half a beat. Did he not want to live with them because he knew he had a father now?

"They're not very nice," he finished, looking at his hands again.

"Voldemort isn't dead," Severus said, and this brought Harry's eyes back up. "He's not, and don't let anyone tell you he is. I was once a spy for Dumbledore in Voldemort's ranks. Many of his followers are still around today. They have children that go to this school, they work in the Ministry, they work on Diagon Alley. They are everywhere. They believe I am still loyal to Voldemort, and it must stay that way. Because the world believes you defeated him, I must make appearances to hate you as well. That is why I snapped at you the first day in class."

"So you're telling me you're my father, but you can't be my father?" He was getting upset and Severus held up his hand to stop him.

"I'm telling you that I'm your father, and that you are my son. We have a chance to be a family, but no one else can know. Not Dumbledore, not your friends, not your mother's family. I must appear to hate you, and you must appear to hate me. It is not only my position as a spy that is at stake, but more importantly your safety. Voldemort will come back."

"How can we be a family then?"

Severus sat back on the stool and put his hand over his mouth and chin. "If I must appear to hate you, then I can give you detentions which you don't deserve. This will give you ample opportunity to appear to resent me. It will also give us a reason to spend time together."

"Won't I get kicked out if I get too many detentions?"

"It is only a start. You of course, do not have to spend time with me."

Harry took a deep breath and sat back. He rubbed one eye and Severus became aware again that it was well past the child's bedtime.

"You were a spy," Harry said. "I guess I'll get to be one too."

"Yes," Severus said, and he motioned for Harry to get off his stool. "And the first rule of spying is don't get caught. You were reckless to come out after curfew. There are teachers and Prefects that patrol the halls until midnight, which is why you got caught. You will serve detention tomorrow evening for your sandwich."

Harry looked up into his eyes and looked hurt. "You said I wasn't in trouble."

"Appearances," Severus said. "You may bring your homework to my office tomorrow evening, and we can talk again then."

Severus held open the pear portrait and let Harry out. Harry stopped at the end of the hall and looked back, perhaps to make sure he hadn't dreamt all of this, gave Severus an uncertain smile (just a flash of one), and then ran off towards the Entrance Hall.

Perhaps there is still light, Severus thought to himself as he watched his son disappear around the corner, and I will take the glimmer of it.

"Don't listen to her," Ron said. "She's just jealous you figured out where the kitchens were. Tell me next time and I'll come with you."

"Ok," Harry said. He thought it might be fun to go out late at night with Ron to explore the castle, but what if he got caught again by his father? Would the man really be angry with him then, or disappointed? Harry wasn't sure what to think of the man yet and what he'd told him. He'd said it was a secret. A secret that was now Harry's to keep for both of their protection. Voldemort seemed far away though. He'd encountered him as a baby, but he couldn't remember that. Only bright green light and the screaming of his mother in his dreams. That was all he had from that experience. He didn't know what Voldemort looked like, or any of the history of the first war. It seemed too far away to care about, like the stories of King Arthur or other historical figures. Professor Snape... his father thought it was worth worrying about however. Harry watched as Ron poured almost an entire pitcher of sticky syrup onto his waffles. What secrets did Ron have? He bet nothing like this.

In Potions, Harry wasn't sure where to sit that afternoon. The dark eyed, intimidating man had said he had to treat Harry badly for show. What did that mean? Was he going to hit Harry in front of the class? He hoped not. It was bad enough having Uncle Vernon wallop him in private, he didn't want to have others see it happen.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked when Harry went to a table at the front.

"Sitting down for class." Harry wanted to sit closer to the front of the room to study his father's features more. He was beginning to question what the man had told him in the middle of the night. Harry did have jet black hair like him, but that was all. His nose wasn't long and straight like Professor Snape's, and he didn't have black eyes like him either. Snape was tall and intimidating, and Harry was very short and felt like he wouldn't be able to intimidate a snail. Ron reluctantly took a seat beside him just as the door banged open and Snape strode in.

The second he caught sight of Harry, he snapped, "Your tie is a mess like your hair Potter. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Harry locked eyes with him and tried not to look hurt. It's all for show, it's all for show, it's all for show, he repeated to himself. At least he wasn't getting walloped. Am I supposed to act too? What do I do? He didn't tell me. The eyes of the class were on Harry as he stuck his chin up in the air like Dudley would have done (something Harry had never dared to do before), and undid his tie, letting it hang loosely around his neck. It was strange to feel bold as he did then suddenly, but also very uncertain. Maybe last night had all been a dream. Maybe Snape had never caught him in the kitchens, and he was just a mean Professor, not his father.

The professor narrowed his eyes and a twisted smile came over his face. "I can see that your rule breaking knows no bounds Mr. Potter. First sneaking about at all hours of the night, and now being defiant. We'll just add another hour onto your detention tonight, shall we?"

Harry held his gaze and the Professor whipped out his wand from his robe so fast that Harry thought the man was actually going to curse him. Harry leaned back in his seat with a look of fear (he could hear Draco laugh across the aisle). But Snape wasn't going to curse him, and Harry actually received a chastising look from the man as he turned and tapped his wand on the blackboard, where instructions for a potion appeared in loopy cursive. Snape began his lesson and Harry stared at his paper, trying to get his heart to slow down. It was beating erratically and he felt stress trying to take control of him. For a moment, it was like he was back at Privet Drive and knew he had done something that had raised his Uncle's ire and willingness to punish him.

Harry messed up his potion because he felt shaky, and he could hear Hermione tutting over his efforts from the table behind him. His only consolation was that Ron hadn't done any better with his potion.

"Rotten luck," Ron said. "Wait til' Fred and George hear what you did. You're braver than I thought."

"What did I do?"

"You undid your tie right in front of him!"

"Oh," Harry mumbled. "I don't know how to do it up and I figured I might as well take it off if it wasn't right." Harry started to pull it the rest of the way off, but just then Hermione walked past them, aimed her wand at Harry's throat, said something under her breath, and Harry's tie magically tied itself so tight that Harry thought he might choke. He loosened it as she turned her back on them and strode away.

"She's mad at you," Ron said.

"I didn't do anything to her."

"Seems like she takes any loss of points or detention as a slight against her."

"Great." Snape had said he would give Harry detentions to keep up appearances. Harry didn't know how often, but this meant that Hermione (or someone else in the house) would always be mad at him.

Harry earned two points in Transfiguration, and Hermione earned five more points in classes by the end of the day. With the few here and there that other first year Gryffindors had gotten, the ten Harry had lost that morning were made up.

"Do you think you can try not to lose any more of our points during detention?" Hermione asked him as Harry got up from the dinner table to go to the Dungeons. Dinner ended at six thirty and his detention was at six thirty five.

"I'm trying not to lose any at any time," Harry said quietly, feeling nervous. Ron gave him a look that said, 'be strong', and Harry left the table. Professor Snape was still at the head table, so at least he knew he wasn't going to be late. As he wandered down to the Dungeons and tried to find Snape's office, he wondered if he was really going to be in trouble for acting defiantly in class that morning, and as the minutes ticked by and he couldn't find the office, he grew more and more worried about it. He looked at Dudley's old cracked wristwatch and felt his stomach squirm. It was six forty. He was five minutes late despite his attempt to get there early.

"Mr. Potter," came a voice from behind him suddenly, and Harry spun around and paled. Snape strode towards him and took his arm (though Harry was surprised by the gentleness of it) and led him around a corner and into an office . As soon as the door was closed, Harry blurted out, "I'm sorry about class this morning! I tried to get here early but I got lost and-!" He was going to babble on some more but the dark eyed Potions Master was holding up a hand to stall his speech and Harry closed his mouth.

"I did not expect you to act this morning, but now that I know you can I expect it to continue in the future. The more strife there seems to be between the two of us, the better. As for being late, it was expected given that you have never been to my office before."

Harry played with his hands. He had felt increasingly nervous all day about this moment, and now that he was here, he didn't know how to stop feeling nervous.

"I- don't know how to do up a tie," he said, not sure of what else to say.

"Come here."

Harry walked to him and Severus reached forward causing Harry to jerk back before stilling. Severus gave him a concerned look but then went on to explain and show Harry the proper way to do up a tie. Harry practiced for a few minutes, and finally had it down.

"That is the second time today that I have seen you flinch back," Severus observed as he went around to the back of his desk to take a seat, and motioned for Harry to sit in one of the visitor's chairs.

"Just- nervous I guess," Harry lied. Well, it wasn't exactly a lie. He was always nervous.

"Hm."

"If you would like to spend this time doing your homework, you may do so. I do not wish to rob you of time you need for academics."

"I did it already."

"All of it?"

Harry nodded and pulled his Muggle lined notebooks out of his bag and set them on the desk.

"When did you have time to do your homework?"

"I did some in study hall and the rest at lunch."

"Are you always so studious?"

Harry shrugged. He wouldn't consider himself studious. He'd never been a stellar student. He didn't have time to do his homework at home at Privet Drive though. Usually the moment he came in the door from school Aunt Petunia had him fixing Dudley a snack, doing chores, making dinner, cleaning the dishes, doing laundry... and at school he'd never had any friends, so he spent his lunch hour doing as much homework as he could. It was always enough to get better grades than Dudley, but never enough to get really good grades.

"Perhaps you should have been in Ravenclaw."

"I don't think I'd fit in there very much. I think Hermione would like it there though."

"Miss Granger?"

"She seems mad all the time. I don't think she likes being in Gryffindor. Or maybe she doesn't like that I'm there," Harry said quietly to himself as an afterthought.

"Explain."

"She's mad that I got detention and lost house points."

"If you had truly been defiant I would have taken the points from you. Knowing it was an act however, I returned the points as soon as you had left the room."

"Oh," Harry said. Too bad he couldn't tell Hermione that.

They were silent for almost a full minute and Harry felt awkward. Maybe he should have saved his homework so he could have an excuse not to speak.

"Do you like Gryffindor?" Severus finally asked.

"I like it," Harry said. All of the boys in his year seemed nice, and it was nice to finally have a friend. It was rather exciting really, though Harry didn't feel like telling this man... his new father that. If he did, it would mean explaining why it was exciting and that would mean telling him about the Dursleys, who made it a point not to allow Harry to grow close to anyone.

"And your classes?"

"Charms is interesting. I don't seem to be very good at Potions."

"You seemed... flustered during class."

"Nervous. I'm sorry."

"Do not be. This will be an adjustment. If there are things you prefer I not do or say, you need only to tell me."

"Yes sir."

They talked for a few more minutes (though the conversation was strained and Harry's answers were very short), before Severus finally asked if Harry would like to play a game. Harry agreed and Severus disappeared through a door behind his desk and came back with a game he called Gobstones. It took Harry the rest of their 'detention' to pick the game up, and by the time he left he was smiling. This man who was claiming to be his father didn't seem so bad. He'd shown him how to tie a tie and taught him how to play Gobstones. He wondered if Ron's father played games with him and his siblings.

By the end of the week Harry was feeling uncertain again though. He hadn't earned another detention, but Snape had shouted at him in double Potions class on Friday (twice) and taken five points from him in the hall for having messy hair. Ron also pointed out that Snape was glaring at Harry during meals, and it all left Harry wondering if he had really done something to upset him, or if it was all part of the act.

"He really has it in for you," Ron said.

"I'll work hard to get the points back," Harry said as Hermione shot him a glare. She rarely said anything to him unless it was to chastise him, but then again, she rarely said anything to anybody. She turned away and Harry went back to talking to Ron.

"I don't know why. I didn't do anything to him."

Just then Fred leaned across the table (he and George had been listening), and said conspiratorially, "I hear you look just like James. Mum said once that old Snape had a thing for your mum but hated your dad. Maybe that's what his deal is."

"Or he could be a vampire and he wants Harry's blood," George said with a grin.

Ron shook his head at his brothers. "If he was a vampire he'd have had Harry for a snack already. He already had one detention with him at night."

"Oh no," Hermione said suddenly a few seats down the table, and Harry and Ron looked over at her, and then followed her gaze. Snape was striding towards them, and a lot of eyes were following him across the hall.

"Potter, I would like to discuss your failing Potions homework with you. You will be re-doing it after dinner."

Harry looked down at the table as Snape strode away.

"Make that two detentions," Ron said.

"If you come back as a vampire Harry, remember that Ron is younger and probably has better tasting blood than we do," George said.

Dinner was only a few minutes from being over and Snape had just strode out of the hall, so Harry got up and followed, looking glum. Harry didn't make it all the way down to Snape's office because the Professor was waiting for him at the bottom of the Dungeon stairwell.

"Follow me," he said quietly. Harry was glad he was there to lead him to his office, because he'd already forgotten how to get there, but he was led down an unfamiliar hall instead near the stairwell and to an ornate looking wooden door. Severus opened the door with a password and key and went inside. This wasn't Snape's office... it looked like a sitting room.

"It's ok," he said, sounding tired. "You can come in. This is my quarters."

Harry stepped inside and closed the door behind him. There were two brown couches that looked comfortable and a shag green rug between them with a coffee table in the center. There was a fireplace and several bookshelves, and a desk and chair against the wall that looked as though they were rarely used.

"Would you like some tea?"

"Ok."

He went through a doorway to what Harry could only assume was the kitchen, and curious, Harry followed him. The kitchen was small with a well worn dark wooden floor with stone countertops and walls. Snape was using his wand to heat the tea-kettle and already had two mugs out waiting to be filled.

"The harsh exchanges we've had in public disturb you," he said, back still turned to Harry. It wasn't a question. When Harry didn't answer, Severus turned to look at him and then turned back to finish the tea. He brought a cup to Harry a few moments later and then sat with his own cup at the table.

"Well?"

"I just- have to get used to it," Harry said.

"I do not say the things I do to hurt you."

"I know."

"Yet you seem wounded."

"I've only been here a week. Everything is still new. This is too."

"I understand. My concern is whether or not I am harming you by keeping up appearances."

"You don't have to worry about me sir," Harry said. He paused as he stared into his tea. "Maybe..." he started, and then trailed off.

"Yes?"

"If there was some way to remind me sometimes that it's all fake."

"Do you have any ideas?"

Harry laughed. "No."

"Neither do I. I will think on it however. Would you like to play Gobstones?"

"What about my essay?"

Severus snapped his fingers and Harry's rolled parchment appeared from thin air into his hands. "You have a passing grade. There is no need to re-write it."

"Oh." Harry sighed, feeling less sullen.

"If you were to really fail an essay, I would not bring it up so publicly. I would speak with you about it in private and offer you a chance to re-do it. If there is a time you are struggling with any of your schoolwork, you may come to me for help."

"How do I do that?"

"You have freetime after hours. You are free to come to my office then, though what you will say to your friends you will have to figure out. Otherwise you will need to find a reasonable way," he really stressed the word reasonable, "to get yourself into detention in my presence."

"People are going to think I'm delinquent."

"That is a possibility."

After Harry's talk with his father, he felt better, and when Monday rolled around and his father sent him a glare in Potions, Harry didn't feel quite as bad about it. He noticed that his father came and stood next to his desk briefly under the pretense of examining Dean's potion behind him, and then moved off. Harry didn't think much of it until two days later when he had Potions again. The Professor made a snide remark about Harry's handwriting, but came and stood next to his desk again a minute later to give Hermione one point for finishing her Potion early. When it happened a third time by the end of the week, Harry was beginning to associate his father's presence next to his desk with a feeling of calm. His father never spoke to Harry about what he was doing, but Harry knew he was doing what Harry had asked. Giving him a gentle reminder that it was all an act. Snape was usually mobile around the room anyway, so it didn't make anyone think twice about him pausing next to Harry's desk randomly throughout classes to speak to people around him.

Harry had two more detentions with his father by the end of his first month, and lost almost twenty more points (which were always given back to him right away when no one was looking). Hermione was angrier than ever with Harry, but on the flipside the twins thought Harry was cool for getting so many detentions with Snape and surviving. They took to telling the common room about Harry's bravery in facing down Snape time and again, who most of the Gryffindors didn't like anyway.

It was Halloween when Hermione marched up to Harry after he'd lost another ten points from Snape in the hall. She put her hands on her hips and said very loudly, "You're going to lose us the house cup!"

Harry frowned and said just as loudly, "Maybe I am! But you don't have to remind me of it every time I make a mistake! Not everybody can be perfect like you. Maybe that's why you don't have any friends."

She opened her mouth and closed it again, and Harry saw tears in her eyes as she rushed past him. Harry turned to watch her go, feeling bad, and realized that his father had stopped a short distance down the hallway after taking points from him to listen to the exchange as had many other passing students. Harry looked down and hurried in the opposite direction, feeling like a real jerk.

Later at the feast, Ron pointed out that Hermione was missing, and Harry told him about what had happened.

"Good, she should stop getting on our case all the time. The only time she speaks is to tell us to stop ruining the chances for the house to get the cup or to not get into trouble."

"I guess," Harry said, but he still felt bad. Near the end of dinner Harry was thinking about going to find his father on his own when Professor Quirril burst into the hall shouting about a troll in the Dungeons. Harry went pale. The Dungeons. His father, but a quick glance at the staff table told him that his father was fine, even if looking a little pale himself.

There was chaos for a few minutes as the Headmaster tried to quiet students and then as students exited the hall with their Prefects to go back to the common room. They were halfway back to Gryffindor, trailing at the end of the line when Harry and Ron heard a scream.

"What was that?" Harry asked.

"It sounded like a girl."

There was another scream and Ron put one hand up over his face. "That was Hermione."

"She doesn't know about the troll," Harry said, but after a third scream, he said, "Or maybe she does." The Prefects and the rest of Gryffindor had already disappeared around a corner, leaving Harry and Ron behind when they'd stopped to talk about the initial scream they'd heard, so there was no one to tell.

"Come on," Harry said, and they followed the next scream and the sound of things being destroyed to a girl's bathroom.

Later in life, as Harry would look back on this moment, he would remember it as one of the few times he really got into trouble with his father. McGonagall had awarded house points for their 'dumb luck' and bravery, but Harry had received a private detention with Snape the next day, one that hadn't been announced publicly for show. He'd had to write fifty lines about not putting himself in danger, and a half foot essay on the dangers of facing down trolls at the age of eleven. He felt bad that he'd let his father down and actually made him angry, but noticed someone over the next few days that seemed to feel even worse than him.

He watched as Hermione seemed to distance herself even more from people around her. She even stopped raising her hand in classes, and took to sitting by herself at the far end of Gryffindor table.

"Come on," Harry said to Ron four days after the troll incident. He walked towards Hermione and Ron muttered something that sounded like, 'why me?' Harry sat down next to her and Ron across from them.

She looked up and Harry noted that there were circles under her eyes. "What- what are you doing?"

"Eating lunch," Ron said, as if it were obvious. He pulled two sandwiches onto his plate.

She seemed uncertain. "Why are you eating with me? I almost got you two killed."

Harry poured himself some pumpkin juice and said, "What's a little troll snot and a detention between friends?"

"Friends?"

"Come on Hermione," Ron said, following Harry's lead. "You're like us now, a real trouble maker. That makes us friends."

She bit her lip and Harry and Ron laughed. Hermione laughed a little too and began to put food on her own plate. They were inseparable after that, and though Hermione did still scold them from time to time, Harry found that he didn't mind it as much now.

The year went on and Harry grew closer to his two friends, and even closer to his father. He felt rather like a spy sneaking down to see him after dinner and keeping secrets from people about the true nature of his detentions. It became like a game to him. How mad can I pretend to be at Snape and how mad can I get him to pretend to be at me? Then we'll go and play chess or Gobstones or cards or he'll help me with his homework and no one will be the wiser.

Harry only feared once that year that someone would find out his secret. He feared it the moment Voldemort revealed himself from the back of Quirril's head in front of the Mirror of Erised. There Harry stood with Snape behind him in the mirror, and a red stone in his pocket, with Voldemort looking on. But Voldemort couldn't see what he saw, and neither could Quirrell, and later the only person Harry told about what he'd seen in the mirror, was his father after he was released from the Hospital Wing.

Harry got more lines and a stern talking to by his father about not putting himself in situations where he would be in harm's way. Harry didn't tell him, but he agreed. He'd never been so scared in all his life as when that turban had fallen from Quirrel's head. Voldemort had a face now and was very real to Harry. His game of spy with his father was no longer just for fun. It was the first time Harry felt he was in a life or death situation, but it wouldn't be the last.

Harry hadn't seemed happy at the end of the year as they said goodbye before Harry left to walk down to the train with his friends, and Severus couldn't say he blamed the boy. If it was his choice he'd have the boy with him every day.

I just want to check on him, Severus told himself, to let him know I'm still here. He didn't want the boy to forget about him over the summer and come back for a second year feeling awkward around him and not wanting to spend time with him. He often saw how changed students were when they returned after summer holidays, and didn't want to have Harry come back a boy he didn't know.

Severus was dressed in the plainest, most drab Muggle clothing he'd ever seen. He was reminded of the clothes his father used to wear when he looked at his reflection in a puddle on the sidewalk in Little Whinging. There was no way he would stand out in this drab little neighborhood.

He was anxious as he approached Four Privet Drive. Would Harry even want to see him? Would he be upset that he was intruding on his home life? Had he told his aunt and uncle his father was still alive? Severus didn't think so after all the talk about keeping their relationship a secret. Privately he wanted very much to be known as the boy's father, and wished the boy would slip up and tell someone, but knew it would only cause trouble if he did.

He was going to pretend to be a businessman interested in buying the Dursley's house as an investment in an ‘up and coming' neighborhood. It would give him a reason to knock on their door and perhaps enter their house if they agreed to let him have a look around. He wouldn't be able to talk to Harry, but he could make his presence known, as he did in classes after making a cutting remark to the boy just to remind him it was all make-believe. Severus didn't have a chance to knock on the door however, as it was thrown open and Harry tumbled out and down the two steps to the walkway.

"You just get out there and finish the weeding!" Petunia Dursley screeched, face contorted with anger. She looked up and down the street quickly to see if anyone had heard her shouting, and missed Severus across the street, but he was still there watching.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly, not getting up from the pavement.

"Don't you come back in here filthy again!" she said, barely loud enough for Severus to hear across the street. "Weed until after dinner then go in the back and hose yourself off. Leave your shoes and dirty clothes outside and get into your cupboard. Don't let anyone see you either."

"Yes aunt Petunia." She shut the door with a snap and Harry crawled from his spot on the pavement to the garden and began digging in the mulch with his bare hands. He was sure to get splinters, but was doing what he'd been told without complaint.

Severus crossed the street, and Harry startled badly when he knelt down next to him. He held a finger to his lips and motioned for Harry to follow him. Severus helped him up and they walked a ways down the street and behind a large bush, where Petunia wouldn't see them if she looked out a window.

"Are you all right?" Severus asked quietly, eyes drinking in the sight of his son once again. This time the boy's face was dirty, his hair was unbrushed, and there were dark circles under his eyes as though he hadn't slept well in several days. His hands and arms were scraped from where he'd been thrown onto the pavement.

Harry looked down at his hands and Severus knew it was because he had tears pooling in his eyes. "Fine," Harry said, though it wasn't very convincing.

"Your hands are scraped."

"I'm fine," Harry said.

"You look as though you haven't slept."

Harry shrugged.

"Have you eaten?"

Another shrug.

Severus grabbed Harry's shoulders, making the boy startle again, and said, "Talk to me Harry."

Harry looked up, eyes wet and said very quietly, "I have a secret to tell."

"Tell me."

"I live in a cupboard under the stairs. I used to have a cot, but I got too big, and now I sleep on the floor. I'm hungry, and I'm thirsty, and I'm tired, and I don't wanna live here anymore."

Severus pulled him into a hug and the boy stiffened for a moment and then relaxed and let himself be hugged. He acted as though it was the first time.

"Then you won't live here anymore," Severus said.

"But you don't want me to live with you. I'm not allowed."

"I want you to. It's just going to make things more difficult. If anyone ever finds out you no longer live with your relatives, there will be a lot of explaining to do."

"Please don't leave me here," Harry said. His voice was hollow and emotionless, like he was walling himself off from being hurt. Severus knew what he was doing because it was what he himself often did. It was easier to shut everything away than to be disappointed time and again.

"Never again," Severus said, and after confirming that Harry had his wand and that his owl was out, apparated him away.

* * *

Harry could not have imagined living with Severus because he had never known life outside of the Dursleys and then at Hogwarts. Severus had a house in the country with nearly twenty different wards to keep people out. Apparently not even the Headmaster knew where he lived. Severus made sure Harry had his own room with a bed and a soft pillow. They couldn't go out in public together in case they were seen, but Severus brought home clothes and toys and books for Harry, and in the privacy of the warded property they were able to go out in the evenings and watch the stars, and in the mornings to collect potions ingredients or tend to the small garden that had been neglected for years. Harry kept himself walled off from everything for the rest of the summer, but Severus was pleased to see that once they returned to Hogwarts for his second year, the walls came down.

Harry told his friends he hated his family and had had an awful summer with them. He reiterated it to them when the Headmaster passed him in a corridor just to be sure the man thought that's where he'd been before the start of the new term. No one questioned that Harry had been anywhere else, and while Severus left Harry alone for the first few weeks, he started assigning detentions again so they could resume their schedule of spending time together in secret. Harry also told his friends he was going to the Library or out to the grounds by himself on weekends and went to see his father instead. The few times he was questioned about it, he told them he wanted time to himself and they didn't bother him about it after that. With as many fights as they got in during the school year in class or the corridors, where Severus appeared to be dressing Harry down about his manners or appearance and Harry snarked back at him in front of an audience, no one considered the fact that Harry was sneaking away to see him. How long could their charade go on? Severus hoped forever, and Harry hoped so too.

"Do not take that tone with me!" Snape said, voice raised as high as it could go before he could be considered yelling.

"Why?!" Harry spat. At fifteen he was nearly as tall as his father now, and no longer felt as cowed against him when they got into a row (and this was a row, though there was no way for those watching to tell the difference between one they'd staged and something real and emotional for the two of them). "Who do you think you are bossing me around?" Harry shouted. His face was red and his chest was puffed out, and he was trying to resist the urge to stand on his toes in the face of his father to make himself taller and more intimidating. Harry knew he couldn't intimidate the man, but he wanted to in that moment. They'd never had a row this bad before, and Harry was angry and scared and confused at the same time. He couldn't back down now.

"I am your professor and your better and you will give me respect!" Severus said, finally raising his voice to a shout. Severus moved up so he was toe to toe with his son, and while he didn't tower over him he was just tall enough to look down into his eyes.

"YEAH!?" Harry shouted. "YOU THINK YOU'RE MY FATHER OR SOMETHING! WELL I DON'T NEED YOU!"

Harry knew it was the wrong thing to say. He knew how his father felt about him and about not being able to claim publicly that he was Harry's father and that he loved him. But it had been said, and there was no taking it back now. Apparently Severus knew that too. Harry was startled as the man reached out and gripped his wrist tightly, and wondered fleetingly if his father had finally snapped... wondered if his father would strike him and leave him there on the corridor floor crying in front of his peers.

His father let go of his wrist then and gave him a look of frustration and anger, and behind that hurt. Harry could read it in his eyes under everything else. Then the man turned and stalked away without even giving him detention, or dragging him away to be punished. Blood was rushing in Harry's ears and he didn't hear Ron talking to him. Ron touched his shoulder but Harry shrugged it off and turned to find his friend giving him a concerned look.

"C'mon, people are watching."

Harry turned to follow him but Umbridge stepped out from the twelve students that had been watching it all unfold. "I believe you're lucky Mr. Potter," she told him. "He turned and walked away so he wouldn't kill you right here. I however have yet to lose my temper and am fully capable of issuing you a punishment for yelling at staff and causing a scene."

Harry couldn't argue with her there. He had yelled and caused a scene. The difference was his father wasn't there to give him detention, real or otherwise, so now he was stuck with whatever Umbridge came up with.

What the nasty Defense teacher had come up with was a blood quill, and while appalled at what he was being told to do, Harry didn't see that he had any choice. He'd already told his father he didn't need him. He'd already used what he knew against his father to cut him to the quick. He couldn't run from the classroom now and seek out his father's help to stop this mad woman from mutilating his hand. So Harry did the detention and went back to his common room, hand mangled with the words, ‘I will not yell at staff.'

Hermione tutted at him and chastised him softly for always getting into it with Snape, and promised to look up something to put on his hand to keep it from scarring, but she couldn't find anything, and again, Harry couldn't go to his father.

That remained the worst fight they'd ever had. They didn't speak for a month because Harry was too embarrassed about what he'd said to his father to seek him out, and his father believed Harry really wanted nothing to do with him. It was only by chance that his father had seen the scars on his hand and snatched his hand in the hallway to look at as they passed in an empty corridor one evening.

"What have you done to yourself?" he breathed quietly.

"Nothing."

Harry tried to pull his hand back to himself, but couldn't because his father wouldn't let go. He was reading the words carved into the flesh. The scar was still raised and angry.

"Tell me," his father said, and Harry looked away, cheeks red with embarrassment. He supposed he deserved the scars as a reminder to keep his head on him when upset. He never wanted to get in a real row with his father like that again, and would be lucky if he deemed to speak to him at all.

"I got detention with Umbridge for fighting with you that night."

"And?"

"I had to write lines with a quill."

"A blood quill?"

Harry shrugged.

"Why did you not come to me?" Severus whispered harshly.

Harry looked up and met his eyes then. "I didn't think you'd want me anymore after what I said to you."

"Was that your intention?" Severus looked taken aback.

"No I-" Harry cleared his throat because there was a lump there he felt like he couldn't speak around. "I used what I knew against you. I'm a bad son."

"Foolish boy," he said. He motioned for Harry to follow him down to the Dungeons, and once in the privacy of his quarters he applied something that would lessen the scarring, but would never take it away fully since it was from a dark object. Harry apologized, but his father didn't want to hear it.

"I will never not want you as my son," Severus said quietly as he sat beside Harry on the couch, who was slumped back with a defeated posture. "Do you hear me? Never."

Harry looked up and met his eyes and leaned against him. They never spoke about the fight again after that, and any time Harry felt too frustrated with his father to know what to do with himself, he had only to look at the scars on the back of his hand to remind him to hold his tongue.

* * *

Harry's friends didn't know. Dumbledore didn't know. Voldemort didn't know either. Harry and his father had kept their secret well for seven years, played their parts so well in fact, that no one could understand why Severus Snape had thrown himself in front of Harry Potter, The-Boy-He-Hated, on the battlefield and saved his life.

Voldemort had attacked the castle as had been expected. He'd gotten past all the wards, fought past the aurors and Order members who had come to defend it, and had Harry in his sights and a wicked curse upon his lips. Then Severus Snape, his most loyal follower, had thrown himself in front of Potter and saved the brat. Something had happened that surprised Tom Riddle even more however. He cast a second curse at Potter once Snape had fallen to the ground, and this curse, much as the one he'd cast against the boy as a baby, rebounded off the boy and flew back at him. Voldemort barely had time to register surprise in his eyes before he too fell, dead in front of the towering castle.

"Is he dead?" someone asked of Voldemort, but Harry wasn't answering. He was kneeling next to the Hogwarts Potions Master holding his hand, tears in his eyes. Snape wasn't dead yet, but he was clearly dying.

Dumbledore came over and knelt down next to Severus as well, looking deeply troubled to see his friend there on the ground laboring to breathe.

"I have a secret," Severus said, wet eyes coming up to meet the Headmaster's.

"Don't we all my dear boy," Dumbledore said, blue eyes shining sadly as they stared into Severus' dark ones.

"I am Harry's father." That was all he could say before the light left his eyes and he was gone. Not, ‘I love you Harry', or anything else that might be construed as sentimental, but Harry had known he was deeply loved and didn't need to hear it to understand it.

"And I suppose you have a secret as well Harry?" Dumbledore asked, having difficulty with the words.

Harry didn't look up. He continued to stare down at his father's lifeless hand as he held it. It was still warm. "It was no secret that I loved my father," Harry said after long moments, finally looking up. "He knew it, and that was good enough for me." Then he laid his father's hand gently across his chest, closed his eyes, and stood up. Forty students and staff stood silently in awe of the battle, and the sacrifice that had just taken place.

"Voldemort is dead," Harry said, suddenly feeling very old and tired. "And I'm alive because Severus Snape put my life before his... because I'm his son. We fooled you all." Then Harry walked away, leaving the stunned crowd behind him and Albus Dumbledore crying over Severus Snape's body.

"We fooled them all dad," Harry said to himself.

To all the world, the Potion's Master of the Dungeons had hated Harry, and Harry had hated him in return, but they had had the last laugh. Because of their secret, for seven years Harry had had a father, a real parent who loved him and protected him and provided for him. A parent who had raised him and taken him by the hand to lead him to safety and security, despite any rows they had had. Harry would not be sad about the time he had with him. It would be disrespectful to think only on his death and not on his life. Harry had no regrets, because he knew his father would always remain with him, in everything he did, in every lesson he would use in the future, with every breath he took. It would be Harry's greatest and most powerful secret.