Sitting in the hospital waiting room, Harry gazed up at the ceiling while clutching his right wrist with his other hand. It hurt, alot.

In fact, his whole body hurt right now, but his wrist and foot, which he knew was swelling up in his too-small shoe, hurt the most. He had dealt with lots of broken bones throughout the years, but having so many at once was what had brought him here to the hospital. The guy in the cab hadn't even tried to charge him for the ride, not that he had any money.

With that thought, Harry closed his eyes and continued to think about his horrible day, but his thoughts were interrupted by someone calling his name. Was it his turn already? Harry opened his eyes and started to get up, but stopped when he saw the familiar worried eyes of Arthur Weasley.

“Mis-mister Weasley,” Harry squeaked out as he promptly fell back into his seat. His back burned painfully in protest. What on earth was his best friend’s father doing in a muggle emergency room in Surrey?

“Harry,” Mr. Weasley called again, walking over to him, his body language calm but his eyes worriedly scanning the visible bruises on the thirteen year old’s body. “What has happened to you, kiddo?”

***

Half an hour ago, The Weasleys received a visit from a very concerned Arabella Figg. The children were spending the day with Great Aunt Muriel, much to their displeasure. The woman was not the most pleasant person in the world, but she was family nonetheless and taking into account that she was well over a hundred years old, she required some assistance de-gnoming her garden. Molly and Arthur were just sitting down to lunch at The Burrow when the floo flared to life.

“Molly? Arthur?” Mrs. Figg called, her head appearing in the flames. “May I come through?”

“Arabella!” Molly rushed over to the furnace with a smile. “Of course, of course, come on through!”

“Thank you, dear,” Arabella brushed off her robes and smiled back at her, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. In fact, if one looked closely there was quite a spark of anger showing in those eyes.

“Good afternoon, Arabella, to what do we owe this pleasure?” Arthur asked kindly. The Weasley’s were associated with Mrs. Figg due to her involvement with the order in the first wizarding war, but he couldn’t recall a time when Arabella had simply stopped by for a visit.

“Oh, it is lovely to see you both but this is more than a mere social call, I’m afraid. As I understand it, your family is well acquainted with Harry Potter?”

“Why-yes, yes we are,” Arthur offers slowly whilst guiding Mrs. Figg to a seat on the couch in the living room. Arthur was quite hesitant to discuss Harry Potter with people, even someone as frail and kind as Arabella Figg. It somehow slipped into the Ministry grape vine that Harry was his son Ron’s best mate, and from then on his co-workers and sometimes total strangers on the street would ask him what it was like to be in the presence of one Harry Potter. While Harry was a very famous boy, he was still just a boy and ever since his stay at The Burrow towards the end of last summer, Arthur had stopped seeing him as a celebrity in the wizarding world and just Harry, the shy and kind friend to his children. He had no interest in gossiping about the details of the child’s life with nosy people who didn’t know him and had no interest in his general welfare.

Arabella nodded. “I thought so. I also consider myself to be fairly acquainted with the boy, in fact I used to babysit him quite a bit.”

Molly and Arthur looked at each other in surprise. They were under the impression that Harry was completely isolated from the wizarding world before he got his Hogwarts letter. “Oh, goodness, really?” Molly asked airly. “What a small world!”

“Yes, well, I’ve lived in the same neighborhood as him since he was placed with The Dursley’s. They didn’t seem to enjoy the little tykes presence, so they pawned him off on me quite often… not that I minded, he was a sweet and quiet little boy, my whole purpose for living where I do, but it always saddened me to see how easily they would pass him off to a near stranger.”

“Neighbors!” Arthur exclaimed. The child had lived ten years completely ignorant of the wizarding world yet his neighbor and baby-sitter was a squib? “What do you mean he’s your whole purpose for living where you do?”

Mrs. Figg shifted nervously in her seat. “Oh yes, of course… Professor Dumbledore got me a house there shortly after The Potter’s deaths. He wouldn’t permit me to tell the child anything about his magical heritage. In fact, he wanted me to keep my distance as best I could but he had still wanted someone to watch over the boy and make sure all was well. I reported to him monthly or whenever I felt necessary, which I’ll tell you was quite often... “ She trailed off, sighing. “I suppose I should have tried harder, perhaps gone through the Ministry when it became clear that he wouldn’t take my concerns seriously.”

“Concerns?” Molly probed gently. She herself had many concerns when it came to Harry’s placement with the Dursley family. She had told Dumbledore as much, but he waved her off and assured her that Harry was best off with his family.

“Yes, well… I’m sure you’ve been able to decipher that The Dursley’s are not very kind people, at least not to Harry. They put on quite the show for the neighborhood but it’s clear to anyone with half a brain that things aren’t so perfect at #4. I’ve told Albus this numerous times but he insists that things couldn’t possibly be so bad and while Harry might not be very well liked by his “family”, he is welcome in their house. I’m ashamed to say that I’ve accepted his reasons for years, even when I knew things weren’t well at all…” Arabella sighed again, heavily, and looked down to her hands. “I simply can’t abide by Albus’ say so any longer, the child is not safe in that household. I came to you because I knew he spent a bit of last summer with your family, and I was hoping perhaps you could help him in ways that an old squib simply can’t.”

Arthur stared at her in silent disbelief. He was of course aware that life wasn’t all sunshine and roses for Harry, he knew that the boy was not close with his family, but he never really considered that the child was unsafe in his own home. And Dumbledore allowed this?

“We’ll do anything to help him, of course!” Molly exclaimed, barely sparing a glance at Aruthor’s stricken face. She knew her husband well enough to know that he wouldn’t simply let a child suffer alone when they could help, especially one that had stayed with their family for weeks. “We’ll go to the Dursley’s now and collect him!”

Arabella shook her head. “That’s the thing,” she said slowly. “I’ve suspected physical abuse for a long while, but I could never prove it… there was nothing more than a few suspicious bruises throughout the years. But last night The Accidental Magic Reversal Squad showed up and today a cab pulled up to the house and I saw Harry get in it alone, covered in bruises and clutching his wrist. I can only hope that he’s gone to the hospital, I don’t know where else he would have gone looking like that.”

Molly gasped, her hand reaching out to clutch her husband’s arm. She expected neglect, but she didn’t want to even imagine that Harry was being abused. “We have to find him, poor dear all alone, injured, and who knows what muggle medicine could do to him!”

Arthur could see that his wife was becoming hysterical with worry and made an effort to clear his mind and come up with a plan. He stood quickly. “I- I will search for him, Molly, you stay here. It shouldn’t take too long for me to find him and then I will bring him back here.”

“No!” Molly exclaimed, standing up with him, shaking her head. “I will not stay here and wait around like a helpless housewife, I need to help you find him!”

“Darling, I know that you are not helpless. Someone has to stay here as we don’t know when the children will get back and if they come before Harry, they need to be warned… it will be a quicker search alone.”

It took a moment for Molly to nod, sighing as she admitted defeat. She knew that her husband saw her as more than just a housewife, and they should be practical about all of this. It wouldn’t be good for the children to return from their aunt’s house to find The Burrow empty, heaven only knows what sort of mischief George and Fred would get into in their absence. The last thing they needed was fireworks to go off as soon as Harry was brought into the house.

Arthur gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Hopefully I won’t be long. Thank you for alerting us to this, Arabella,” he sent a nod in her direction before heading towards the backdoor and quickly walking outside to the apparition point beyond The Burrow’s wards.

Arthur had searched two small hospitals before finding his destination. There in the Surrey hospital’s waiting room was Harry Potter, small for his age, sporting messy black hair and bright green eyes with round framed glasses, but his key features were the only things that looked the same since the last time Arthur had seen him nearly one year ago. The boy was dressed in long sleeved muggle clothing, but it couldn’t hide the sickly looking bruises covering his face and neck. “What has happened to you, kiddo?”

Harry Potter was somewhat known for getting himself into sticky situations, but he really didn’t go looking for trouble, trouble found him. Honestly!

But perhaps he could have been more careful when dealing with an angry Uncle Vernon.

He would easily admit that it had been completely idiotic to backtalk his uncle, right after blowing up his sister but in the moment he had had every intention of storming out of the house with his wand and his owl and never looking back.

One could dream.

But no, of course Uncle Vernon had to catch Harry’s wrist and twist it roughly before he could open the cupboard door. Of course The Accidental Magic Reversal Squad had to show up and pull him to the side for questioning before he could make a run for it. And of course after Aunt Marge had been deflated and obliviated, everything had calmed down and the wizards had left Harry alone with a very pissed off Vernon Dursley.

He really didn’t understand why his uncle was one of the few muggles who wouldn’t have to be obliviated after such a violent outburst of accidental magic. Harry’s life would certainly be much easier if he was.

This morning he had been lying on his bed in pain, cursing his miserable existence. The night before had been one of the more memorable experiences with Uncle Vernon’s temper. Harry ached in places he didn’t know he could ache in. Vernon had always been harsh with his nephew but this was just a bit much. It wasn’t as though Harry could control accidental magic but try explaining that to his relatives.

Never before had Harry actually considered getting help for his injuries, but it was becoming more and more clear with each harsh intake of breath that he was in serious need of medical treatment if he wanted to live to see tomorrow.

As it was, he wasn’t so sure if he really cared about seeing tomorrow.

But, after surviving three encounters with a dark lord, battling a bloody basilisk and nearly dying just two months ago when its venomous fang collided with his shoulder and yet still living to tell the tale, he thought that dying because of a fractured rib puncturing his lung due to his uncle’s bad attitude and lack of a sense of humor would be a really lame way to go out.

And so he sat up, wincing at the pain in his- well, everywhere. He felt dizzy for a moment and waited for it to pass before he stood up and stumbled his way to the door, thanking all things good and pure that for once, it was not locked. Uncle Vernon must have really overexerted himself last night if he had forgotten this favorite ritual of locking Harry in.

More likely he had figured that Harry wouldn’t manage to get out of bed for a while.

Harry crept slowly down the stairs. It was about 11:30 in the morning on a Saturday, and since Aunt Petunia insisted on mommy and me time with Dudley, they were likely at the movies, to be followed by lunch at McDonald’s and a trip to the video store and a stop at the drugstore for some candy, only a five pound bag or so.

Just a quick and inexpensive little outing for precious Diddykins.

The Accidental Magic Reversal Squad had said that Aunt Marge would likely sleep for a day or so, the trauma of suddenly becoming a balloon and being deflated and obliviated and weighing 500 pounds could do that to a person.

Harry just prayed that Uncle Vernon would be having his pre-rugby watching nap in the living room. A deep, eating-a-pound-of-greasy-bacon-for-breakfast induced sleep.

He treaded lightly on the last couple of stairs, peeking hesitantly into the living room doorway to see that yes, Vernon was sprawled out on the couch, a bag of crisps laying on his stomach, dead to the world.

Harry heaved a sigh of relief, which nearly made him cough loudly and ruin the whole venture. He tiptoed quietly on the carpet leading into the kitchen and over to the phone hanging on the wall. He hadn’t used the telephone once in the two years since he had left for Hogwarts and not many times before that, but he felt that he understood the gist of it. He flipped through the phone book and found a cab company. He didn’t have any money, but he was in so much pain he didn’t think he could walk all the way to the hospital on his own. He dialed the number. He’d just have to figure something out.

After quietly requesting that a cab be sent to #4 Privet Drive, Harry crept over to the cupboard under the stairs. He was certain last night that it would just open when he touched the doorknob with his accidental magic flowing so wildly, but he didn’t make it in time and he didn’t have that advantage now. But he wasn’t interested in leaving the house without his wand so he picked up the hairpin he had “accidently” dropped on the floor around the small doorway awhile back and attempted the lock picking skill that Fred and George Weasley graciously taught him after last summer. He wasn’t very good at it so it took a few minutes of frustration until he heard the lock click and he once again had access to his magical belongings.

He sifted through his trunk but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to take anything besides his wand as he was venturing out into the muggle world. He slipped his wand into the pocket of his jeans and sighed looking at the only things that really belonged to him in this world. He didn’t really know how things would go after the hospital, he just knew he needed help. All these things could be burned to ashes by the time he got back, if he came back… he had sent Hedwig out last night and told her to go ahead to Hogwarts owlery so he didn’t have to worry about her at least.

He had asked, well, sort of begged the headmaster not to send him home for the summer, but Dumbledore had said this was the safest place for Harry. Ha. Well, he couldn’t really think of any excuses to tell the people at the hospital, somehow “I fell out of a tree” didn’t sound quite as plausible as it once did so it could soon be out of the headmaster’s hands anyway. Harry felt kind of like he was doing something wrong, it felt like going behind Dumbledore’s back somehow but Harry didn’t have all that many options. He simply needed medical care and he would have to endeavor to receive it.

He closed the lid of his trunk and slowly backed out of the cupboard, locking the door handle as he shut it softly. He glanced back at the living room and saw that his uncle was still sound asleep. He leaned against the wall and brought himself to feet, silently shuffling to the front door. He tugged it open as quietly as he could and stepped outside to wait on the front stoop for his cab. It showed up just a few minutes later and Harry almost felt like running to it, but knew how painful and incredibly stupid that would be so he stumbled his way to the door beside the passenger and collapsed onto the seat. The cab driver only glanced at him briefly at first and then did a double take. “Damn kid, you look like shit. Hospital?”

Harry nodded, thankful as he could not find the words to vocalize his need. He leaned his head against the window and watched in a daze as Little Whinging faded out of sight.

***

And so there he was slumped in an uncomfortable chair in the hospital waiting room, looking up at the worried face of his best friend’s father.

“What has happened to you, kiddo?” the man had questioned and Harry had no words to answer his question with, kind of like with the cab driver but only a hundred million times worse.

He had felt that he was desperate enough for help to go to strangers for it, strangers who didn’t know him or care about him one way or the other, who counted him as just another statistic.

He had not planned on running into anyone he knew, especially not anyone from the wizarding world (not that he knew many people from outside of it) and now despite how much his body was aching just then, he was regretting this whole thing quite a bit.

Mr. Weasley must have sensed his discomfort about the situation (since it had only been two whole minutes since he asked Harry a question and didn’t receive an answer) as he hesitantly reached out to squeeze Harry’s hand and sent him a warm, if wary, smile.

“I think this muggle stuff is pretty interesting myself, but there’s a lot of people who claim that muggle medicine can be really bad for wizards and witches, including my wife! I’d hate for you to become a test subject… why don’t you come back to The Burrow with me? We’ll get you all fixed up quickly and with a lot less pain.”

Oh, God. Not just Mr. Weasley, but Mrs. Weasley and all the kids seeing him looking like this… it sounded like something out of his nightmares. What would Ron say if he saw him like this!?

At Harry’s horrified look Mr. Weasley chuckled lightly and told him that the children weren’t supposed to be home for most of the day and if they happened to be there he would make certain that they minded their own business. Slowly, Harry nodded. Mrs. Weasley was still a threat but he supposed he could handle that, he did like her a lot. But now he knew the “fell out of a tree” bit definitely wasn’t going to work. Mr. Weasley smiled again and gently guided him outside the hospital.

Once they found a spot free of muggles, Mr. Weasley warned him about the shock of side along apparition but seeing as there weren’t any known fireplaces connected to the floo network around, it was kind of their only option. Harry held on tightly to Arthur’s arm and after a long few seconds of feeling like he was being sucked through a tube and thinking that perhaps this would be a slightly less lame way to die than his fractured rib puncturing his lung, they arrived at The Burrow. At which point Harry proceeded to throw up on Mr. Weasley’s shoes and struggle to breathe while desperately trying to apologize. Mr. Weasley spelled the mess away and tried to get Harry to breathe again. It took a few moments but he finally calmed. Thankfully his injuries didn’t feel too much worse than they did before the apparition.

Mr. Weasley guided him into the house where Mrs. Weasley looked ready to pounce on him and shower him with hugs and kisses but she managed to restrain herself and lead him to the living room couch. “Harry dear, are you okay? I’ve been so worried!” She wrapped a blanket around him even though he wasn’t the least bit cold and took in all of his visible bruises.

“Where does it hurt, darling?” she asked him while trying to assess the damage herself.

“Everywhere,” Harry admitted quietly, grimacing at pain that would come and go.

Molly frowned at the gasp of pain Harry let out when she lightly touched his wrist. “Oh, Arthur, this doesn’t look good at all… I think we need to call a healer, I can’t mend bones!”

Arthur nodded quickly and went over to the floo to call for the healer whose services the Weasley family often were in need of. Healer wasn’t the man’s main endeavor but he did have a great deal of experience in the field, and there weren’t many other people Arthur trusted to heal his children’s many ailments. Despite all that the man tried to portray, he was actually a very decent person. If one managed to look past his constant sneering and merciless jabs.

It only took a few moments for the dour wizard to come through the floo, dusting off his robes and sporting his signature look of disdain.

Harry had nearly dozed off but when he heard the floo go off he glanced up to see who the healer was that Mr. Weasley sent for.

‘This is worse than when Lockhart tried to heal my broken arm’ Harry thought as Hogwarts’ most hated professor strode towards him. If Harry had been in a stronger physical state he would have let out an audible groan.

What a crappy day.

Harry had been ready to pass out and forget that this day had even happened, but now he was completely on his guard. If he thought that Ron seeing him like this would be something of nightmares, he truly had no analogies to describe how horrible of a situation he currently found himself in.

Did the universe truly despise him enough to have him beaten to a bloody pulp and receive medical treatment from Snape? Harry hadn’t even been aware that the evil man was a healer. What if this was Snape’s chance to finally poison Harry? Or worse, wave his medical chart around in front of everyone at school and mock him in class? It most certainly was not out of the realm of possibilities.

Perhaps he had died and gone to hell? Or maybe it really was just a nightmare, he tended to have particularly violent ones. Yes, very soon he would be waking up screaming in his bed at Privet Drive and this will all have been nothing more than a fabrication of his apparently greatly disturbed subconscious.

***

Severus Snape, Potions Master and professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, wasn’t so cruel as to mock an ill child, but as he took in the sight of an injured James Potter reincarnated sprawled about the Weasley’s living room sofa, he really couldn’t help but sneer while wondering what sort of trouble the boy had brought upon himself now.

He then attempted to school his features into his mask of indifference. Regardless of his personal feelings when it came to this boy, if he was to be the one to heal him then he must practice restraint, difficult as that might be.

“Mister Potter,” Severus started stiffly as he kneeled down on the floor near his patient and rummaged through his medical bag. One glance at the child on the couch informed him that he would require bruise balm. “What have you gotten yourself into this time?”

The boy shifted nervously but made no move to respond to the inquiry, his eyes were downcast as he avoided the potions master’s gaze. Severus sighed and the boy jumped as he drew his wand to cast a diagnosis charm. “Calm yourself, Mr. Potter, I am simply attempting to assess your injuries.” His muscles remained tense but he settled back down after a moment.

“I am going to run a diagnostic spell on you. If you were of age I would require your consent, but thankfully, you are not so we do not have to suffer through the usual Potter dramatics,” Severus stated, barely suppressing a smirk. He heard Molly let out a tsking noise but she managed to keep her mouth shut.

Severus waved his wand over the injured child and a parchment and quill appeared floating in the air. He slowly moved his wand from the top of Potter’s messy head to the tips of his toes and back. A faint glowing appeared on his skin, shining slightly brighter in places in need of healing. Which seemed to be a lot of places.

He frowned and after completing the scan he looked over at the parchment to read it. Besides the obvious facial bruising, it listed a sprained right wrist, fractured rib, broken right pinky and left foot, and excessive bruising pretty much everywhere. It also listed malnourishment, which would require daily nutritional potions for a month at least.

Severus glanced up at the Weasleys, now truly curious as to what might have transpired to cause the boy to be in this state, but there was nothing to be found there but worry on their faces.

He shook his head slightly to clear it and began to focus on his task. He would think about the implications later, right now his attention needed to be placed on the healing process.

He started on the wrist first, it was a bad sprain but nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a simple Episkey. The broken bones would require setting and Skele-Gro, the fractured rib would be a bit more difficult to work with as there was always the slight risk of impairing a lung during the setting of it, but it could be done.

After administering a pain potion, it took him about twenty minutes to complete the healing process, Molly held on tightly to Potter’s hand all the while. He would still be sore for a few days but for the most part, he would be fine.

The boy had been completely silent so far, even during the consumption of the foul tasting Skele-Gro, but as Severus made a move to remove Potter’s long sleeved shirt to apply the bruise balm that the parchment indicated would be needed, he let out a quiet whimper of protest.

Rather than irritated as he normally would be when dealing with a Potter, the sound of it made Severus feel extremely uncomfortable.

“I must see to your bruising, Potter, would you be so kind as to allow me to do so?” he snarked, but his heart wasn’t really in the rebuke. The boy seemed to make an effort to calm himself before nodding hesitantly.

Severus slowly removed the child’s shirt and gaped at the sight before him. Potter’s entire torso was littered with dark bruises. He heard Arthur and Molly let out audible gasps beside him. Potter’s eyes closed as he turned his head away from them and let go of Molly’s hand.

Severus just stared for a moment before once again shaking his head. He unscrewed the lid to the bruise balm and dipped his fingers into it. As gentle as he could manage, he began to spread it onto the child but the boy still flinched violently upon making contact. Severus’ hand stilled on Potter’s stomach for a few seconds before moving again. He made an effort to be quick and efficient yet still placid. After he had covered Potter’s front with the balm, he started on his back.

He felt as though he should be talking throughout this as he usually did with his patients to soothe their nerves, but he never imagined himself in this kind of situation with Potter, so he did his work silently. He finished with the back, which was somehow worse than the front, in a few awkward minutes and then he made a move to apply the balm to Potter’s face.

The boy did not flinch this time, but his eyes still remained closed tightly as Severus spread the balm onto his right cheek and over his left eye. Just as well, he wasn’t sure that he would be able to hold his composure if he saw Lily’s green eyes staring back at him in this moment.

Severus released a sigh as he debated on the remainder of Potter’s body. He did not fancy seeing any more of Potter’s body than strictly necessary and he felt that Potter would agree. He did not have to fret about it for long as the boy spoke up for the first time since Severus had arrived.

“Please, sir- can you let me just... may I see to the rest myself, please?”

It was a moment before Severus nodded as he worried that he simply would be taking the easy way out and not putting in his best efforts as a healer, but he thought that the boy should be able to come out of this with at least a small portion of his dignity still intact.

Potter struggled slightly as he rose to get off of the couch and practically fled to the bathroom. The adults all looked towards one another when he shut the door and locked it behind him.

“What on earth happened to him?” Severus demanded in a quiet tone. Husband and wife looked at one another for a long moment before Arthur answered him, running a hand over his face.

“We don’t know exactly, he hasn’t really said anything. I went to Surrey to retrieve him about an hour ago after Arabella Figg paid us a visit earlier today.”

“Arabella Figg?” Severus questioned. “The elderly squib that was in The Order?”

Arthur nodded. “Apparently she is Harry’s neighbor, has been for as long as he’s been living with his relatives. She said that Dumbledore placed her in the neighborhood to keep an eye on Harry.”

“And what was the reason for her visit?”

Arthur sat himself down heavily on the loveseat beside his wife. “She said that… well, we knew already Harry’s relationship with his relatives wasn’t good, but, we never thought that… she said that she has always suspected abuse, she just-“

“You mean to tell me that his family did this to him?” Severus bellowed. Arthur put up a hand to quiet him, shooting a glance at the bathroom door.

“We don’t know for sure, but… I think that it’s more than likely.”

Severus had known, really, in the back of his mind while he was healing the boy, but hearing it in his subconscious thoughts and actually hearing it being said were two very different things. The three adults were silent for a time as they mulled it all over in their heads.

Molly had stood up and was pacing the room when the boy came back out of the bathroom, hugging his arms around his waist, his eyes lowered to the floor. He stood there in the middle of the room awkwardly for a moment.

“Lay back down, you need to rest,” Severus said quietly as he rubbed his index finger and thumb together over his eyebrow.

Potter obeyed instantly, nearly flopping onto the couch and drawing the blanket practically up to his nose, if he brought it up any further he would smother himself. Molly reached out slowly so that she wouldn’t startle him to take off his glasses and set them down on the coffee table. “Go to sleep, darling,” she murmured as she patted his hand delicately.

Potter squished himself further into the couch and closed his eyes but they kept fluttering closed and snapping back open every few minutes. Severus rummaged through his bag and took out a bottle of dreamless sleep. He measured out the proper dosage and instructed his patient to drink. After that, Potter fell into a deep sleep in seconds.

Severus just stared at the sleeping child of his best friend and his enemy for a few more moments before taking out his wand again and running a more in depth diagnostic scan that would list all injuries since birth. Another parchment floated in the air and the only sound in The Burrow was the quiet scratching of a quill as it recorded.

Severus read over it when it was complete, and handed it over to Molly once he had finished.

He wanted to deny it, but Severus was not an imbecile. Children’s medical histories should not be this tainted with injuries. How he had missed the signs for two years he didn’t know. How Madam Pomfrey had Potter in the infirmary at least once a month during the Quidditch season and yet never discovered anything was beyond him.

Severus interrupted the subdued atmosphere that The Burrow living room had become while everyone had been lost in their thoughts.

“You know that as a healer, I am under magical oath and required to file a report with the Ministry.”

Arthur nodded grimly. “I’m aware. Is there any way to keep it from the press?”

“As Mr. Potter is a minor, the records will be sealed. The only person that should know would be Amelia Bones, unless there is a trial in which case a small addition of people would become aware and would all be under oath not to speak of it outside of the courtroom.”

“Would it be possible for us to become his guardians?” Molly asked.

“Once Potter’s relatives have lost custody of him, you could petition for guardianship of him. There will likely be a number of hurdles to jump through, but it can be done. The main issue is that someone like Lucius Malloy could come along and petition for guardianship himself, and while they will consider your family’s already well established relationship with Potter, we must take into account Mr. Malfoy’s influence with the Ministry…”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “We will just have to hope that it doesn’t come to that, I have no choice but to file the report.”

Molly and Arthur looked to each other worriedly. They were all thinking the same thing, the Malfoys could be worse than the Dursley’s. Severus heaved a heavy sigh and continued.

“I am aware that he has no living relations besides the muggles, but I am still required to send a sample of his blood along with the report.” Severus reached into his bag and pulled out a syringe.

“As the healer who filed the report, the results of the blood test will be sent to me by owl. Custody can automatically be granted to close living blood relations, but as he has none besides the Dursleys it should not affect your petition for guardianship.” He gently stuck the needle into Potter’s arm and drew out a sample of blood. He then placed the small glass vial into his bag.

“I must write up my report and send it off. I will return tomorrow with nutritional potions, he will have to take them every day at breakfast for at least a month.” He collected his things and stood.

Molly took hold of his hand before he could leave. “Severus, I- thank you,” she said softly, looking over at Potter who was still fast asleep on the couch.

Severus glanced over at the sleeping teen once more for himself before turning away towards the floo. “I will inform you when I have received correspondence from the Ministry. Until tomorrow.”

He threw in a pinch of floo powder and disappeared into the green flames.

“Would you hush? He needs his rest!”

Harry was groggily awoken from his potion-induced sleep by the sound of his best friend and his best friend’s mother arguing.

“But mum, I haven’t seen him in a month! What’s the matter with him anyway, has he been here all night? Why didn’t you tell me he was here!?”

“You all came in late last night and went straight to bed! He has been here since yesterday afternoon. He is ill and needs to rest, that is all you need to know. Now hush up.

“Too late now,” Ginny spoke up after Ron let out an irritated huff of frustration and Harry wondered just how many Weasleys had been watching him sleep. “Look what you’ve done, Ron, he’s awake!”

Damn. Harry didn’t know how she could tell as he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet, but he did so now. He sat up slowly and reached for his glasses on the coffee table. “Uh. Good morning,” he muttered, averting his eyes down to the couch after getting a quick glimpse of many heads full of flaming red hair.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Mrs. Weasley said sweetly. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, thank you, ma’am,” he said politely in response, albeit quietly.

Ron couldn’t keep quiet any longer, “Blimey, Harry, what are you doing here! Not that I’m not glad to see you, I haven’t heard from you since we left Hogwarts!”

“Er- yeah, I’m really sorry, Ron, I just haven’t had much time to write.”

“Now, now, that’s enough questions,” Mrs. Weasley chided. “Harry, why don’t you go take a hot shower before breakfast, there are towels on a shelf in the bathroom. There will be plenty of time to catch up afterward. Professor Snape will be here before long with potions for you.”

“Potions? Why’s Snape bringing you potions?” Ron asked.

Harry flushed and stumbled over his answer. “I uh, he, er...”

Mrs. Weasley seemed to be in the habit of coming to his rescue today. “Professor Snape, and I told you Harry is under the weather. Professor Snape is bringing him potions to make him better.”

Harry smiled at her shyly and hurried off to the bathroom, grateful to have a few minutes to himself to think things over.

He stressed over all of it as he closed and locked the bathroom door. Should he be honest with Ron about his sudden appearance at The Burrow? There were normally no secrets between the two of them, but Harry wanted to pretend nothing had happened. If he told Ron what had happened, it would only solidify things. Mrs. Weasley seemed content not to say anything about it so perhaps he should just follow her lead?

But he had always told Ron everything, along with Hermione. They were best friends. They’d been right by his side through every adventure at Hogwarts, from stumbling across a three-headed dog to facing down a possessed professor. Ron and his brothers had even rescued Harry from the Dursleys just last summer, so it’s not like Ron didn’t know things weren’t that great for Harry at home.

But he had always made a bit of an effort not to bring up his homelife around his friends. Now, here it was all out on display for everyone to see...

Harry lifted up his head, hesitantly meeting his own eyes in the mirror. There was still the faint evidence of a bruise over one of his eyes, and the barest of hints of one having been on his cheek. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in a week, even though he had been out of it since yesterday afternoon.

It wouldn’t be too difficult to sell the ‘Harry is ill’ theory. Even after all of Snape’s healing, he frankly still looked like crap. He hadn’t seen his reflection before so he wasn’t sure how bad he had looked before.

It must have been bad, considering Snape had stopped throwing insults at him for more than five minutes.

Harry slowly shrugged out of Dudley’s oversized sweatshirt and cringed at the memory of himself whining when Snape had tried to take it off yesterday. He had acted like such a baby. He shook the thought out of his head and stepped into the shower.

He stared at the less-than-faint bruises still littered across his legs. He supposed that he hadn’t done as good of a job as Snape with applying the bruise salve.

He shivered despite standing under the hot water. Was he seriously shaking over the idea of talking to his best friend? Or was it the memory of Snape, along with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley...

He shook his head. It didn’t happen. The bones were mended, the bruises were fading and besides a little bit of soreness, it was all pretty much over and he was nearly as good as new. None of it mattered now. It never had before.

He stepped out of the shower and breathed in the fabric softener of the fluffy pink towel as he wrapped it around himself. Was everything at The Burrow truly as comforting as he found it, or was Harry just not used to any comfort at all?

He quickly dressed and left the bathroom.

Mrs. Weasley and Ginny had left the living room by the time he returned to it and he plopped down on the sofa next to Ron. Determined to be casual, to be vague but not to flat out lie.

Well, maybe that was a lie.

“What’s going on, Harry?” Ron asked quietly, glancing to the doorway to make sure that his mother wasn’t listening in before focusing back on Harry. “You don’t really look sick to me, although you do have a bit of a shiner on your face…”

Harry shrugged. “Dudley hit me, it’s no big deal. I was a bit ill though, that’s why your parents took me away from The Dursleys so soon but I’m feeling much better now.”

“So soon? We’re practically nearing the end of summer, and I haven’t gotten one letter from you! I thought that the twins and I would have to come break you out of your room again. They didn’t put the bars back up on the window, did they?”

“N-no, Ron, the bars are gone. They weren’t so bad this year, really. I’m glad to be here, though. I’ve missed you loads!”

“Mr. Potter,” a silky voice broke into the conversation. Harry glanced up quickly to see Snape’s lean figure standing in the doorway.

“I have brought your potions. You must take one each morning with breakfast for as long as I deem necessary.” He handed Harry seven glass vials. “I will bring more next week. I will check with Mrs. Weasley to ensure that you have taken them correctly,” Snape added, giving him a pointed look.

Harry flushed hotly and lowered his eyes down to the ground. “Yes sir, I- thanks. I will take them just like you said. Uh… I have to go to the loo, excuse me,” he said before rushing off and leaving Ron alone with their fearsome professor.

****

Ron glared at Harry’s retreating form fleeing to the restroom while wondering the best way to make an escape of his own.

It was all for not, however, as Snape spoke up before he could move.

“Mr. Weasley,” Snape inquired in his dangerously soft voice. “What is this about breaking Mr. Potter out of his bedroom?”

Ron would have looked away if he hadn’t had his eyes focused on the floor already. Oh, shit. Had the greasy git been eavesdropping on them in Ron’s own home!? He had no right! Harry really wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to know about that, especially not Snape.

“I, uh,” he swallowed thickly. “I don’t think that Harry would want me talking to you about it. No offense, sir,” he added quickly although he didn’t actually care if the old bat was offended or not.

“I assure you that it would be in your best interests to answer my question, Mr. Weasley,” Snape threatened softly. Ron gulped.

“Oh, well, sir,” he started out hesitantly, knowing that lying wasn’t the best idea when it came to this particular man. “Last summer Harry wasn’t responding to my letters and I was kind of worried about him so Fred and George and I went to Surrey to check up on him. His bedroom door was locked from the inside and they had bars on his window. I think he had been locked in there for a while… uh, we had to pry the bars off with the flying car.”

By now his mother had come to stand in the doorway and he flushed at the sight of her, remembering the howler she had sent him after Harry and he had flown the car to school last year. He really should have listened to Harry when he’d said it was a bad idea.

“And did it not occur to you to inform an adult of this?” Snape glowered.

“We did!” Ron defended hotly. “I told mum as soon as we got home!”

Snape turned his scowl on to Ron’s mother, who now looked as though she had been struck.

“I- oh, dear. I just assumed that the children were trying to get out of trouble, I didn’t take them seriously I- oh my...”

“What’s the big deal?” Ron asked, honestly confused. “We’ve all known forever that The Dursleys are horrible to him.”

“Just how horrible would you say?” Snape questioned.

“No worse than you, sir,” Ron snapped and then instantly regretted it.

“Ronald Weasley!” his mother scolded. “Do not speak to your elders like that.”

“Well, it’s the truth, isn’t it? Did you know that Harry sicks up before every potions class because of him? He makes Harry so nervous because he’ll take any opportunity to jump on him!”

“That’s enough,” she reprimanded harshly. “I’m so sorry, Severus, please excuse his behavior. I will be having a talk with him.”

Surprisingly, Snape had stayed silent throughout the entire tirade and rather than exploding at Ron as he normally would for saying far less than he had just spewed out, Snape simply just stared at him for a moment and then slowly nodded in response.

“I must be going now, Molly,” he said stiffly.

“Oh, won’t you stay for breakfast, Professor?” she asked him. He shook his head no.

“I have other errands to attend to. Do be sure that Potter takes his potions properly.” And with that, Severus Snape strode over to the fireplace and flooed away without a second glance at Ron.

Ron who was fixing to die.

“Ronald,” she said sternly. “It does not matter how much you might dislike them, you do not speak to your elders like that!”

“Mum, I apologize for being rude, really, but he is insanely cruel to Harry! It’s not right!”

His mother sighed. “It may not be right, but that is something that he will have to answer for himself. It does not give you permission to treat your professor with disrespect.”

Ron nodded, looking down. “I’m sorry, Mum.”

She hummed softly in response and turned back to the kitchen. “Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”

He frowned to himself, truly feeling bad for upsetting his mother but knowing that he had said what needed to be said. Ron was still musing when Harry returned from the restroom.

“Thanks for leaving me alone with him, mate,” Ron muttered absently. Harry blushed.

“Sorry, Ron…hey, how come you have never mentioned to me that Snape is a healer, anyway?”

Ron snapped back to attention. “Oh, uh, I dunno just never came up, I guess,” he replied meekly, his mind thinking back on all of the times the horrid potions professor had checked over him while he was still in his nappies.

Harry shrugged at his response and went into the kitchen for breakfast.

***

The Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was startled out of his dazed reverie when the door to his office was slammed open, and Severus Snape stormed in hissing the words, “You lied to me.”

Albus Dumbledore recovered from his initial surprise quickly, sitting up in his throne-like chair with the usual twinkle in his blue eyes as he inquired, “Oh? And what is it that you think I have lied to you about, Severus?”

Severus paced the room angrily for a moment before plopping down in one of the armchairs in front of the headmaster’s desk and glaring at the ancient man. “You promised me that Lily’s child was happy and healthy, that he was very much loved by his relatives.”

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in question. “And?”

“And he is not!” Severus growled.

“What is it that has brought you to this conclusion, my boy? You have told me several times that the boy is a pampered and spoiled little brat. Why this sudden change of opinion? I am quite curious.”

“My viewpoint changed as I was mending the broken bones caused by his family."

Dumbledore sat up straighter in his chair. “What happened?”

Severus stood again and crossed his arms over his chest. “The Weasleys called me to their home yesterday afternoon to tend to the boy. He was practically bruised from head to toe.”

“The Weasleys sent for you? How did they come across him?”

“They picked him up from a muggle hospital. Arabella Figg informed them that he had been injured and left the house. Apparently,” Severus paused on the emphasis to send the headmaster a glare, “this was not the first incident of violence she has witnessed.”

Dumbledore sighed heavily. “Harry is fine now, presume?”

“Physically speaking, yes. Mentally, is anyone’s guess. Childhood abuse can, as I am sure you are aware, lead to many issues down the road, even into adulthood.”

“Abuse is a strong word for the situation at hand, Severus. Perhaps he is not as loved or spoiled as his cousin, but-”

Severus cut him off. “If not abuse then an extreme case of neglect, and that is not even taking into account his injuries!”

“Did Harry tell you that his relatives caused the injuries? Boys his age do tend to be involved in the occasional scuffle.”

“Do try not to placate me, Headmaster, I know abuse when I see it.”

“That is still your opinion, Severus, it is not fact. I’m sure that if you had asked the boy he would have informed you that his injuries were not received at the hands of his family.”

“Oh, I am also sure that he would have lied about it, as the majority of abused children do! Why are you so adamant that it is not abuse? He had a fractured rib, it could have punctured his lung and he could have died.”

“He was going to receive medical treatment on his own, he would have been fine either way. And you say that he is irresponsible!”

“It is becoming apparent that you are the irresponsible one. With the sheer number of abused children who walk through these castle doors every year, one would think you could get your head out of your arse. Blood means nothing! The way you’ve treated Potter is more than just negligence. Arabella Figg told you about her suspicions, on several occasions! You assured me that the child was in good hands when you never so much as checked up on him in twelve years! You completely dismissed the child you claim to care so much for.”

“I do care for him, Severus,” Dumbledore sighed. “I, like you, desire for the boy to be happy and loved, but Harry needs to live with Petunia Dursley for the protection of the blood wards.”

“No, Albus, what he needs is to be cared for, not beaten to a bloody pulp by his family for the sake of wards. They may have protected him from outside threats but they did nothing for the inside.”

“The wards are essential to Harry’s protection. I will put up spells to prevent an incident like this from ever occurring again, do not worry yourself over it.”

“Why did you not do that before? It is too late now. There are no spells that will make them love him even a fraction as they do their own. Are you truly senile, old man? Potter will not be going back to that household.”

“Severus,” the headmaster’s gaze hardened. “The choice is not yours to make. Harry may stay with the Weasleys for the remainder of this summer, but he must return to the Dursleys each summer until he is of age.”

Severus glared back at him with disgust. “No, Headmaster, the choice is not yours to make.” He shuffled through his robes and drew out a copy of Potter’s abuse report. “You know that it is my responsibility as a healer to file a report with Family Services about an abused child. You cannot cover this up any longer.”

He slammed the report down on the desk. “I sent a copy of this to the Ministry.” He turned to go and paused at the doorway. “You had me swear to protect her child and yet you could not do the same. I trusted you before, but I have played your game long enough. I made that vow to her, not to you. I will do my best to honor it.”

***

Severus left less angry than he had come in, but the anger was replaced by disappointment. He had always known, really, that the old coot was a manipulative bastard but he didn’t want to acknowledge the implications of it. That he would leave an innocent child in the clutches of abuse and do nothing to stop it...

He walked past the apparition wards beyond the Hogwarts gates and spun home to Spinner’s End.

He walked into the house and collapsed onto the couch, rubbing his temple. He had been doing that a lot lately. He sighed, once again thinking back on the Weasley boy’s accusations. It was true what he had said, shamed as Severus was to admit it. He was aware that perhaps he had been overly harsh with the child but had he really been causing the child to be ill?

Severus had been on an emotional roller-coaster ride ever since uncovering Potter’s abuse the day before. How could he have let his hatred blind him so as not to see what was right in front of his face? How could he have failed the child he had sworn to protect so badly?

He now had to rethink every thought he had ever had about the boy and he wanted to resent him for it, but he couldn’t. He was only angry at himself. And at Albus and the Dursleys of course.

An owl appeared at his window in the kitchen carrying two letters and Severus rose to retrieve them. He snatched the Ministry sealed envelopes from the bird. He had sent his report to them the day before.

Severus tore into the first letter and scanned the parchment, seeing that Vernon and Petunia Dursley had been taken into custody. The second letter informed him that Harry Potter had one living blood relative who could take custody of him.

Severus Snape.

Dear Professor Snape,
I am pleased to inform you that Vernon and Petunia Dursley were arrested by Aurors late last night. They are currently in Azkaban custody awaiting trial. Unfortunately, little evidence of their crime was found at the Dursley residence and the victim will have to testify. I understand that this will be a difficult thing for him to go through, especially taking into account his notable fame and your desire for discretion, but I can assure you that there will be no reporters in the courtroom and everyone involved is under magical oath not to speak of trial details involving underage witches and wizards.

I will let you know via owl when the trial date is set.

Best regards,
Amelia Bones
Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement

***

Dear Professor Snape,
Disclosed are the results of a blood relative test as requested.

Harry James Potter
Born July 31st, 1980

Biological mother
Lily J. Potter née Evans (deceased 1981)

Biological father
Severus T. Snape

Blood adoptive father
James F. Potter (deceased 1981)

Close blood relations: Severus Snape, Petunia Dursley (muggle) and Dudley Dursley (muggle)

Distant blood relations: Narcissa Malfoy née Black, Andromeda Tonks née Black, Bellatrix Lestrange née Black (imprisoned), Sirius Black (imprisoned), Nymphadora Tonks and Draco Malfoy

Best regards,
The Ministry of Magic

***

The second letter was to the point, written by magic and unmoderated. As if it didn’t contain life-altering information.

Severus had wondered, of course, how could he not? With things going the way they did… any man in his position would question it.

Lily had married James so suddenly, barely even sparing the time to tell Severus that it was over between them. Harry had been born shortly after that.

If the baby wasn’t Severus’, then the only logical explanation was that Lily had cheated on him and he didn’t want to entertain that thought at all.

The first time he had seen the child was when he was an infant cradled in his mother’s arms.
The two of them had been strolling along Diagon Alley, shortly before The Potters went into hiding. The baby was just a couple of months old at that point and Lily was positively glowing with motherhood.

Severus knew he should keep his distance from her, she had made it quite clear that if he was to be a Death Eater, he would do well to stay away from her. But how could he possibly? He loved her, with every fiber in his being, and if there were any possibility that the child was his own...

He walked over to her, if not for his Occlumency shields he would have been shaking like a leaf.

“Lily,” he had breathed, looking into those emerald eyes for the first time in nearly a year. The eyes had widened with shock upon seeing him. “Severus!” she exclaimed, absentmindedly pulling her infant son closer to her chest, attempting to protect him from his Death Eater father.

But the baby reached out his chubby little hand and latched onto Severus’ robes, sending a toothless little grin his way. The first thing Severus noticed was his beautiful green eyes. The second thing was that he was a near replica of James Potter.

The next time he had seen the boy he was eleven years old and Severus did his very best to avoid looking at those eyes, choosing instead the focus on the messy mop of hair sitting atop his head.

As much as he claimed to hate the boy for the mere resemblance to his childhood tormentor, the true source of his hatred was because he was a constant reminder of all that he had lost, a reminder of Lily’s infidelity. He hated him because even though Lily had done Severus so wrong, he still had a weakness for her and loved her and swore to protect her child regardless.

His child.

Oh, why hadn’t he questioned it further? He knew that permanent birth glamours existed, he was a potions master for Merlin’s sake! He should have known Lily well enough to know that she would have never been unfaithful to him. He had allowed his hatred and insecurity to blind him.

He should have realized she loved him but couldn’t accept him becoming a Death Eater. Of course she would have done anything to protect her child, even marry someone she didn’t truly love, and disguise her baby to be his.

Had James even known? He must have, for there had been a blood adoption which required consent and even as reckless as he had been and as much as he had fancied Lily, James Potter wasn’t the type to just rush into a marriage. He had helped Lily even while knowing that he wasn’t her first choice and claiming an heir that wasn’t biologically his own.

Did they tell anyone? How could it be that Severus’ child had spent 12 years being starved and pushed around while his father had been right here, not knowing?

And now his child hated him. How he had treated the boy because of his paternity was despicable regardless, but now he knew that he had been treating his own son with such contempt… he was truly a sorry excuse for a human being.

Severus allowed the parchment to slip from his fingers and fall to the stone flooring, he then collapsed into his chair. He was automatically granted custody due to being the biological father and the only remaining parent. Well, Potter - no, Harry - wouldn’t be happy about that.

He could sign it over to the Weasleys and allow the boy to live his life not knowing any better. That would more than likely be the best thing for Harry.

But yet that wasn’t what Severus wanted.

How could he go on knowing he had a son and yet not claiming him? How could he watch the boy walk through the castle corridors every semester, glare at him defiantly during potions class, attempt suicide while playing Quidditch, while never truly knowing him?

He would have to. Nothing good could come from turning Harry’s world upside down. Telling him that his real father was an ex-Death Eater and the father that he had idolized hadn’t really been his father at all…

It was a lot to place on the shoulders of a child, of an abused child no less… it could easily break him. He would have to do what was best for his son, and not necessarily what Severus himself wanted.

Damn Dumbledore. If he had just gone through the proper channels at the Ministry to find a home for the orphan instead of just deciding on his own to place him with Petunia, Harry’s true paternity would have been discovered years ago and while Severus might not have been the best father, he wouldn’t mistreat his child and Harry would be well developed and healthy. But Albus had sent Severus’ son to grow up knowing nothing of love, only of abuse.

He put his head into his hands and tried to calm his breathing. He had allowed his Occlumency shields to fall as his world had just completely shifted on its axes. He had a son, a son with Lily Evans!

It wasn’t often that Severus Snape had no idea what to do or what to think, but it did happen occasionally.

***

It was several hours and a couple of glasses of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey later when Severus came back to his usual self.

He allowed himself a few more moments before replacing his shields and going over to the floo. He threw some powder in and called for The Burrow. Thankfully it was Arthur who answered.

“Severus!” he exclaimed. “Would you like to come through?”

“Actually, if you have the time to spare I would much prefer it if you stepped over to my side, Arthur.”

“Oh, of course, I’ll just tell Molly where I’m going. I’ll be there in a moment.”

Severus hummed his acknowledgment and took his head out of the fireplace. He paced the room waiting for his visitor to come through. When the floo flared and Arthur appeared, Severus found that even with all the words that had been floating around in his head for hours, he didn’t really know what to say.

“I received a response from the Ministry,” he decided finally, gesturing for Arthur to sit before doing so himself.

“Oh? Bad news?” Arthur asked.

“I would not say bad news exactly, just… well, not so great news and some unexpected news as well. For one, I should tell you that the despicable relatives have been arrested, but unfortunately, an insufficient amount of evidence was found at the muggles’ house so Mr. Potter will have to testify at the trial.”

“That is… almost good to hear. The not-so-great news, I presume? I don’t know how well Harry will respond to having to testify, but we’ll manage. What is the unexpected news? Have they discovered a blood relative?”

“Yes, they have,” Severus said slowly.

He was concerned about how Arthur would take this information but he did tell the Weasleys that he would inform them of updates and if he were being honest, he needed to talk to someone about this. Normally the headmaster was the one he would go to discuss such things (not that he had needed to discuss learning that he had fathered a child ever before, but) but with the recent events… Arthur Weasley would have to do.

“Merlin, it’s not someone horrible, is it? I know he is technically related to the Malfoys, but it’s so distant it would be a big stretch for them to be granted custody, wouldn’t it?”

“No no, no need to worry about the Malfoys. They are listed as distant blood relations, but it does not do anything to help their possible quest for guardianship considering the other options.

“As for if this person is horrible, well… I suppose you can judge that for yourself. He has been granted immediate custody as he is a very close relation.” The professor shifted awkwardly. “It has been discovered that James Potter was not the biological father, the father is alive.”

Arthur simply stared at him, mouth agape. “He- Harry’s father is alive? Where has he been all of these years?”

Severus cringed inwardly. “He was not aware of the child’s true paternity, like everyone else he assumed… well, just have a look for yourself.” He stood, picked up the fallen letter from the floor, and handed it to Arthur.

Arthur spent several minutes scanning the parchment before looking back up. “You-you’re Harry’s father?”

“It would appear so,” Severus said, bringing up a hand to rub his weary eyes.

“Wh-how-“ Arthur flushed and looked back down to the parchment. Severus would have smirked if the circumstances had been different.

“I doubt that I have to explain the specifics to you, seeing as you have fathered seven children of your own. In short, there was a time when I was very close with Harry’s mother.”

Arthur nodded in understanding, face still slightly red. “And you never… considered?”

“I certainly considered, but after seeing him… I should have considered a birth glamour. I should have put more thought into it and I truly regret not doing so…”

“It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known. This… this is unexpected, but it’s not bad news at all. You are not a horrible person. I think you will be a wonderful parent, Merlin knows Harry needs one.”

Severus stood and paced the room slowly. “I am sure that you realize the… animosity between Pot- between Harry and myself. As much as I… well, I do not think that it would be in Harry’s best interest to reveal this information to him. If you and Molly are willing, I… I think it may be best for him to remain with your family.”

Arthur stood as well. “Severus… Molly and I will always welcome Harry into our home, know that… I understand that this is quite a shock but you just discovered that you have a son. Don’t you think you should take more time and consider getting to know him before writing him off?”

Severus ran a hand over his face. “I-I am not fit to be a father, Arthur. Perhaps I am not such a horrible person now, but before Harry was born… well, there is a reason I did not know of our relationship. I only want to do what is best for him.”

“Have you ever tried to be a father before? You might just surprise yourself. It’s ultimately your decision, but… I think someone who has grown up as an orphan has the right to know that he still has a parent living in this world. He is welcome to stay with us indefinitely but I don’t think that you should make any long-term decisions until you’ve seriously thought this through. Regardless of what has occurred in the past, you are his father and he is still your son. I think that you both deserve a chance for happiness together.”

Arthur reached out for Severus’ arm and patted it lightly. “Just think about it some more, please?” Severus nodded slowly.

“I-I will reflect on it further.”

Arthur reached out for Severus’ arm and patted it lightly. “Molly and I are here for you if you need us. Don’t hesitate to call. Or to visit with your son,” he added as went back over to the floo but Severus stopped him before he could throw the powder in.

“Do not mention the trial to him just yet, it… there is still plenty of time for him to prepare. Let him focus on recovering for now. I will discuss the matter with him next week when I bring his next batch of potions.”

Arthur smiled and nodded before disappearing into the flames, leaving Severus alone with his thoughts once more.

Ron, Ginny, the twins, and Harry were all in the backyard of The Burrow playing Quidditch when Mrs. Weasley called for Harry to come inside.

It had been several days now since Harry first arrived at The Burrow and he was feeling much better. Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t let him do much of anything besides sit on the couch for the first few days, but today she had finally let him come outside to play with the other kids.

He groaned, wondering if perhaps she had changed her mind again and decided that he was too delicate to be flying around on his Nimbus 2000. Mr. Weasley had gone to Privet Drive to retrieve it for him, along with some of the other things that he had left behind.

Harry worried that Mr. Weasley would get into an argument or something with the Dursleys, but he returned far too quickly for that, which was an odd thing in of itself because surely Aunt Petunia would have been home and she would have had a fit over a wizard Apparating at her house.

He dismounted his broom and handed it over to Ron to use while he was gone, as the Nimbus 2000 was better than any other broom on the market (well, besides the Nimbus 2001… and the new Firebolt model), and headed towards the house.

“Yes ma’am?” Harry questioned politely when he reached the backdoor. Mrs. Weasley smiled at him.

“Professor Snape is here, he has some things that he would like to discuss with you,” she said, the corners of her mouth dipping slightly.

Harry bit his lip. This morning he had finished the last of the nutritional potions that Professor Snape had given him last week, but he didn’t see why they would need to discuss it. He could have just handed the potions over to Mrs. Weasley and been on his way.

Mrs. Weasley guided Harry to the living room before she went into the kitchen, leaving him alone with Snape, who was seated on the sofa, tapping his chin impatiently.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Potter,” he said. Harry eyed him warily as he came into the room and sat on the loveseat across from the professor.

“I trust that you have been taking your potions properly?” Snape asked him, taking the new batch out of his robes and setting them on the coffee table in front of Harry.

Harry nodded. That was at least one task Snape had assigned him that Harry hadn’t screwed up.

“Yes, sir. You can ask Mrs. Weasley, she has been keeping track of it as well,” he said softly.

Snape shook his head. “There is no need for that, I can take your word for it.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. Since when did Snape take anything he said at face value?

“I wanted to speak to you about your living arrangements for the time being. Are you… happy here?”

Harry just stared at him. Had Snape become his social worker or something? Why would he care if Harry were happy?

“Er- yes, sir, I suppose so. The Weasleys are really nice. I like it here. Why?” A sudden thought occurred to him. “Oh, is Dumbledore making me go back to the Dursleys?”

“The headmaster is no longer in charge of your welfare.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment before continuing. “As is standard in situations such as this, I have filed an abuse report with the Ministry. You will not be returning to your relatives, ever.”

Abuse?

“You- what? They don’t abuse me!”

“No?” Snape asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“No! I know that they aren’t the best of guardians, and maybe they don’t particularly like me, but, Professor, don’t you think you’re blowing this a bit out of proportion?”

“Were the injuries that I healed just ‘accidents’? Do keep in mind that I have a complete history of your medical ailments, and it does not add up to falling down the stairs, or out of a tree, or even a boyhood scuffle. You have a long and complex medical history which all points towards one thing.”

Harry shook his head swiftly. “Neglect, maybe.” he said quietly. “But it’s not like they planned on having a second kid. They do the best that they can for me.” Why was he defending them? He wanted to be away from the Dursleys more than anything in the world!

But he had been through this whole song and dance before, in primary school. Talking only made things worse.

“Are you aware that your relatives have been receiving a stipend every month from a fund your parents set up for your care should they not be able to do so themselves?”

Harry stared at his palms. He hadn’t known that. Aunt Petunia always said that it had been difficult for her and her husband to take in their nephew. He had spent his whole life wearing hand-me-downs and eating the leftover scraps because he was the charity case. He’d known that they could probably do a little better for him than they had said they could, but he never considered that there was a whole entire fund just for him…

“Harry,” Snape said gently, startling him out of his daze and causing him to look up at the use of his first name and the gentle tone coming from the mouth of his harsh professor.

“I know that it is not easy to admit when something is wrong at home, or even to recognize that something is wrong… but I assure you that the way your relatives have treated you is absolutely barbaric and inexcusable. It is abuse, and they have been charged for it.”

Harry put his head in his hands. “C-charged?” he asked, voice muffled by his hands.

Snape hummed and drew a letter from his robes. “There will be a trial, the date has been set for January 11th. You will have to take that day off from school.”

“Why?” Harry muttered. “I don’t need to be there.”

Snape sighed deeply. “Unfortunately, you do. The court is requiring your testimony.”

“They want me to testify?! I-I can’t testify!”

“I am afraid that you must,” Snape said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know that it is not ideal, but it should not be too difficult-”

“No, I’m not doing it! They didn’t even do anything wrong, they treat me like I deserve and it’s fine. It just got a little out of hand one time, okay?”

“Potter,” Snape snapped and Harry flinched at the tone. Snape closed his eyes tightly for a moment before continuing in a softer voice. “I am aware that this is difficult for you to comprehend, but I will attempt to make you understand that the way they have treated you is unacceptable. You in no way deserve it.”

“I don't want them to go to prison because of me,” Harry whispered. Snape shook his head.

“They will not be going to prison because of you, they will be going to prison because of their own actions, which just so happened to be against you. It is in no way your fault, the blame rests solely on them.”

“But if… if I weren’t the way that I am, they wouldn’t have been that way. They treat Dudley just fine, I’m the one they have the problem with. If I hadn't been around, they wouldn’t have done bad things.”

“Stop with this way of thinking, Harry. It’s the way they are, not you. They are cruel and vile people. Just because they are only that way with a particular portion of the population does not make it okay. Do you understand?”

Harry shrugged. Snape sighed once again.

“What if Miss Granger’s parents treated her the way that your relatives have treated you, hm? Would you say that she deserved it?”

“No!” Harry exclaimed loudly.

“Why not?”

“She hasn’t done anything to deserve that, she’s just a kid.”

“As opposed to you?”

“It’s different.”

“How so?”

“It just is.”

“Is she not a magical child? Are her guardians not muggles?”

“It’s more than just that! I’m weird in all sorts of ways…”

“I do not care if you went out dancing stark naked on the streets of London, you are a child and there is absolutely no excuse to treat a child the way that they treated you.”

“It’s still different. She’s their kid, I’m… the Dursleys never wanted me.”

“Be that as it may,” Snape sighed, apparently out of truthful words of comfort. “They allowed you to live in their home but yet treated you like an outsider. More than that, they treated you like a house elf. No one has the right to treat a child the way that they treated you.”

“Why,” Harry swallowed thickly before continuing, “why are you being so nice to me?” he asked quietly. Snape rolled his eyes.

“You have extremely low standards, I would hardly call it being nice. But… I do realize now that I have been wrong in the way that I have treated you. I can not make up for it, but I realize my mistake and will endeavor to do better by you in the future.”

Harry stared at him in shock for a moment before nodding slowly. It didn’t make much sense, but he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity of Snape being tolerable towards him. He bit his lip. “I still don’t want to testify,” he said quietly.

“It is quite alright for now, the trial is still many months away. You have plenty of time to prepare yourself so there is no need to fret over it just yet. I would however encourage you to take the time to reflect and come to terms with what you have gone through. I believe that it would be beneficial for you to talk to someone about it. Keeping things all bottled up inside yourself will only allow for wounds to fester.”

Harry scoffed. “I don’t need a shrink, Professor. I’m not crazy.”

“I do not recall suggesting one, although talking to a counselor would not mean that you are crazy. I was under the impression that you have friends with whom you could discuss it with, or Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and… I would be available as well, if you so wished.”

Harry had taken to staring at the professor a lot throughout this conversation, and now Snape seemed to be doing the same with him. There was an odd look on his face, replacing his usual sneer. Harry couldn’t place what it was and it made him feel slightly uncomfortable.

Snape looked away for a moment. He once again seemed to hesitate before meeting Harry’s eyes once more.

“Harry,” and Harry was once again shocked by the gentle tone in which Snape said his name. “I am sorry that you must go through this. I wish…” he trailed off. It seemed like there was a lot more he wanted to add, but he just shook his head slowly and stood.

“Continue to take your potions. I will come again next week.”

Harry bobbed his head in response. “T-thank you, Professor.” Snape offered him one last nod of acknowledgement before departing from the living room and leaving Harry to wonder who had been using Polyjuice potion and why.

***

Severus sighed, leaning back in his chair at Spinner’s End. Today had been the first time he’d seen his son since he found out that he was his son. He was looking better, physically at least.

He had heard from several people that Harry hated the Dursleys, so he hadn’t really even considered that Harry might not think that his treatment at their hands was wrong or unusual. He should have realized. Just because Harry wasn’t screaming the signs of abuse didn’t mean that he was not struggling with the effects of it. He had lived with them for twelve years, of course he would think that the way they had treated him was fine.

It was still the first civilized conversation he had ever had with his son.

Severus had taken Arthur’s advice and thought more on the situation. He still came to the conclusion that Harry would be better off living with the Weasleys. He seemed to be happy, as happy as a traumatized child could be, anyway. He had friends there. The last thing Severus wanted to do was disrupt his life. He deserved peace, peace that could be found by living with Molly and Arthur Weasley.

All Severus had to offer Harry was Spinner’s End and himself, and Lily’s child deserved better than that.

Severus just seemed to keep finding excuses to return to The Burrow.

His weekly visits there to bring Harry his nutritional potions had made sense, but stopping by for a chat with Molly Weasley was far from the typical behavior expected of Severus Snape.

But, he had discovered that Molly made a very good cup of tea.

So what if they happened to sit in the kitchen to drink it, where there happened to be a window facing the backyard, which was where the children happened to spend the days of their summer holiday playing Quidditch.

It’s not as though he planned it that way.

Of course Molly realized what he was doing, probably knew even more than he did about it. Of course she did. Not much got by that woman.

There were still, however, some things that escaped her notice. Like the idiotic heights that the children would go to on their brooms at idiotic speeds.

To be fair, Severus hadn’t noticed it either, until it was too late.

He felt quite foolish now, as he had been practically glaring at the boy in the sky, yet somehow not registering how he had reached such a height in such a short amount of time.

Or rather, how fast he was departing from that height.

No time to reflect on his stupidity now, as the children who had been laughing moments ago were now all shrieking their red heads off.

Severus and Molly quickly rose from the table and rushed outside. Harry was on the ground, looking dazed as blood gushed from his forehead. Ron was holding the hem of his red t-shirt against it, or maybe it had been a white t-shirt that was becoming red.

Well, that certainly wasn’t a nice thought.

Severus sank down on the ground next to Harry, conjuring gauze from his wand and holding it against the wound. His eyes scanned over the rest of the boy’s body, looking for other injuries. His skin was covered with little cuts and scrapes but his bleeding forehead seemed to be the only imminent danger.

He sifted through his robes and brought out a blood replenishing potion. Harry was still looking dazed as Severus massaged his throat in an attempt to get him to swallow the potion.

He looked back to where he was still holding the gauze over the wound. It was still bleeding, but it was slowing down. He held his wand over it to heal it before lifting the gauze. The gash still looked bad, and he would have to apply a balm to it soon to avoid scaring, unless Harry wanted to have yet another mark on his forehead.

“Harry,” Severus said, looking into his face closely. “Can you understand me?”

The glassy green eyes just blinked at him for a moment before narrowing in thought. “P’rfe’ss’er?” he mumbled.

Severus nodded while waving his wand to check his vitals. “Good. Are you aware of what is going on right now?”

Harry blinked a few more times before nodding slowly. Severus didn’t know if he was truly aware of his surroundings, but at least he had recognized him. He looked up at the Weasley children. “What happened?” he asked.

The youngest boy, who was still wearing the t-shirt with the bottom half soaked in blood, answered him. “H-he went straight for the ground, I think he meant to swerve back up but he was just flying too fast.”

Severus resisted the urge to growl at the stupidity of his son. Gryffindors.

“P-professor?” a shaky voice said, snapping Severus’ attention back to the boy sitting on the ground. Even after taking the blood replenishing potion, he was still looking sickly pale. And a bit green as well.

“I don’t feel so good,” the boy muttered, leaning his head against Severus’ chest. Oddly, his first thought about the situation he currently found himself in was that the parental instinct he had always heard people talk about likely didn’t include the desire to get their nauseous child away from them.

Shamefully tucking that thought away, he gently placed his hand on the boy’s head. Just to check it for bumps, of course. The boy tucked his head further into Severus’ chest, responding to the touch like a lost puppy who had just found its way back home.

Severus looked over to Molly in near horror, having absolutely no idea what to do with this thing that had attached itself to him. She was the one who was supposed to be comforting the child, not him. He wasn’t designed for things like this.

Rather than coming to his rescue, she just smiled at him and rounded up her children to take inside of the house, leaving him alone with his own.

“You’re soft,” Harry stated quietly, his voice muffled against Severus’ robes. Severus rolled his eyes. The child was obviously still quite out of it if he were saying something like that to him.

“Why must you do such foolish things, child?” he murmured, not expecting a response. He received one, anyway.

“No reason not to,” came the soft reply.

“Why ever not?” he asked, this time expecting a response but Harry kept his lips sealed, opening his mouth once only to let out a quiet yawn.

The boy was drifting off, apparently perfectly content with being in the close presence of his most hated professor. Severus wanted to tell him that he could have a concussion and that he shouldn’t fall asleep, but he had already checked for that and Harry would be fine. There was no need to lie.

Why was he fighting this so much, anyway? If the boy wanted to fall asleep in his arms, then so be it.

***

Harry sluggishly came to, wondering why he was once again on the Weasley’s sofa. Hadn’t he been sleeping on a cot in Ron’s room since after the first night?

He sat up and immediately felt dizzy. He placed one of his hands on his forehead, wincing at the soreness he felt there. ‘Oh yeah,’ he thought absently, ‘I fell off my broom. Again.’

He couldn’t remember much of what happened after he had hit the ground. Had Snape been there? He thought that the professor only came by with his potions on Mondays, today was Wednesday, wasn’t it?

His head felt foggy, some things made sense and others didn’t, but he wasn’t sure if that was really anything out of the ordinary. His thoughts had been all over the place as of late.

He lifted himself off the couch slowly, looking out the window. It was pitch black outside. Obviously, a lot of time had passed since he had taken the long dive off of his broom. The question was had it been hours or days?

Hopefully just hours, Harry hated losing days in his sleep when he was injured. It seemed to happen an awful lot.

He shuffled towards the doorway, wondering if anyone else was up. He wanted to ask someone what time it was, he couldn’t seem to find his glasses and without them had no hope of seeing where the hands of the clock were positioned, with the moonlight shining in from the window being the only source of light to assist him. He really was quite nearsighted.

He knew the house layout well enough to get around even while being nearly blind but he still kept a firm hand on the wall as he traveled through the hallway. He could hear faint snippets of conversation coming from the kitchen and so he felt his way over to it.

The door was closed, which didn’t happen often. Weird. He was just about to push it open when another wave of dizziness hit him. He sank down to the ground against the wall, resting his head on his knees. It must have been one hell of a fall to cause him to feel this disoriented.

Hadn’t Ron been wearing a white t-shirt? Why did he transfigure it red? No, no, they weren’t allowed to use magic outside of school. Ron was pants at transfiguration, anyways.

Harry could hear the voices that were coming from the kitchen a bit clearer now. His thoughts were becoming more and more jumbled and he couldn’t quite remember what he was doing here, sitting on the floor in the hallway, but his head felt funny and he thought that he might just stay there for a while.

Eavesdropping was one of his favorite pastimes, anyway, wasn’t it? He wondered about this absently as he allowed the sound of the conversation to drift into his ears.

“I think that you should tell him,” a male voice stated. “He deserves a chance to get to know you, at least.”

A snort. “I simply do not understand how you could possibly believe that it would do him any good at all to have me play an active role in his life.”

“I saw you with him today, Severus, don’t forget. Not to mention the fact that you have been stopping by here nearly every day to check up on him. You are perfectly capable of giving him what he needs.”

The sound of a chair being pushed back. Pacing.

“He needs a home, with people who care about him. I cannot simply just waltz into his life after thirteen years and expect him to be glad of it. Especially considering that there has been two years of animosity between us already.”

“You clearly care for him and he seemed perfectly capable of forgiving and forgetting the past as he was falling asleep in your arms this afternoon.”

“Oh yes, perfectly capable of developing a proper train of thought in his disoriented state. In fact, I think that I may have missed out on the perfect opportunity to tell him that I am his father!”

By now Harry had recognized the voices in the kitchen as being that of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Snape. He could not, however, seem to make any sense of what the latter name had just said.

Harry stood quickly, his mind going fuzzy again and he knocked into a table, sending a vase crashing to the floor. He immediately dropped back down to the ground and attempted to gather up the pieces.

The kitchen door burst open and then there was Snape, staring at him with his wand drawn.

Snape. His father, apparently.

Wide and frightened vivid green eyes were staring at him from the face of a boy with his mouth agape, and Severus stared back, hit by the sudden terror of what he might have overheard.

He then noticed that the child was frantically trying to pick up the shards of a broken vase, and for the second time that day (that Severus knew of), there was blood coming from him.

“Wha-“ Severus started as he slowly lowered his wand, his mind still whirling around too quickly to form a proper sentence. Harry didn’t seem to take notice of that, anyway.

“I’m s-sorry I d-didn’t m-mean,” he stuttered, eyes fluttering back down to the floor, where the evidence of his apparent crime lay.

“Harry,” Molly stated softly, sinking down to the floor with him. She gently lifted his bloodied hands up and away from the porcelain pieces, causing him to drop what had been holding. He stared at the mess, seemingly transfixed.

“I-I need to clean it up, Mrs. Weasley, please, I-I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to,” he babbled on.

“Harry, Harry, it’s okay,” Arthur put in kindly. He waved his wand over the vase and cast the Reparo charm on it. “See? It’s as good as new.”

Harry then stared at the newly reconstructed vase for a few moments. ”Oh,” he said finally.

Severus crouched down beside him, conjuring a cloth to wipe the blood off of his hands. “What were you doing up?” he asked in a casual tone to conceal his genuine interest as he dabbed the splotches of red away from Harry’s skin and cast a healing charm over the abrasions.

“I’m sorry. I was looking for… something. Or someone. I don’t know. I don’t remember,” the boy mumbled, truly looking confused.

“I thought you said that he didn’t have a concussion,” Arthur murmured.

“He shouldn’t have,” Severus muttered, placing his hand on Harry’s head again to feel for a bump. The boy shivered at his touch and Severus frowned at the child who had easily fallen asleep in his arms mere hours ago. He then ran another medical scan but it didn’t show anything out of the ordinary.

“Perhaps he just needs more rest, hm?” Molly commented. “He took quite a fall.”

Severus had to agree, as the boy was looking more and more out of it by the minute. He lifted him up under the arms and guided him back to the sofa in the living room.

Molly picked up the quilt that had fallen to the floor and tucked Harry in just as she had done a few weeks ago.

Severus thought that it had likely been the first time that Harry had received such an amenity since Lily and Potter had passed.

The boy observed him peculiarly as Severus brushed more scar prevention cream across his forehead, and he could only hope that Harry had not overheard the conversation in the kitchen. It would only complicate things further.

He deserved to have a proper guardian. One with Molly’s comforts and kindness, not Severus’ harsh tongue and petulance.

***

Harry was just starting to accept waking up confused about his surroundings as the new normal.

It had been a bit weird waking up every day to find himself in Ron’s bedroom, but he had been starting to get used to it. Now here he was, back in The Burrow’s living room, trying to remember why he had been asleep on the sofa in the first place.

Despite his current confusion, he realized that his head felt a lot less foggy than it had the last time he had awoken. He had woken at some point, hadn’t he?

He looked down and noticed several scabs on his palms. Yes, his memory of waking had not merely been a dream. He apparently couldn’t go very far while awake without causing injury to himself somehow.

He yawned a bit as he sat up, and more memories of the previous night began to flash across his mind as it became more awake, memories of things that simply weren’t plausible. He had been kind of out of it, perhaps some of it had just been a delusion of his disoriented mind?

It must have been. The idea of Severus Snape being his father was ridiculous, to say the least… and he had found out a couple of years ago that he was a wizard so it was not as though he had never before experienced unbelievable, unrealistic, and ridiculous occurrences.

But that was just too far out there to even comprehend.

Harry could faintly hear murmuring coming from the hallway, so he stood up from the couch and went over to the doorway, being sure to shuffle his feet loudly enough to announce his presence to throw off the idea that he might have a bit of a habit when it came to eavesdropping.

The murmurs had come from the usual suspects of late, Professor Snape and Mrs. Weasley. Her husband must have left for work already. She made a tsking noise as soon as she laid her eyes upon Harry.

“Sit back down on that couch, young man, you need to be looked over before you go and injure yourself again!” she scolded lightly, a smile tugging up the corners of her mouth.

Harry’s cheeks flushed brightly as he did as he was told. He really was fine now but he supposed that she did have a cause for her concern considering he had broken her vase last night.

He looked up at her, face reddening even more as he brought the subject up. “Er- Mrs. Weasley, I’m really sorry about breaking your vase last night…”

She had her hand held up to his forehead checking for a nonexistent fever as she shook her head. “There’s no need to worry about it, Harry dear, it was a simple fix and you already apologized for it last night.”

“Yes, several times,” drawled Snape as he too came into view. “Fortunately, it is much easier to repair a simple vase than you at times, Mr. Potter.”

Harry knew his face must greatly resemble a tomato at this point and so he lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I know I’m a bother,” he muttered softly.

He heard Snape release a heavy breath and Harry imagined that he was rolling his eyes as well. “You are not a bother. It is simply disconcerting the lack of self-preservation you seem to possess, and how much trouble one twelve-year-old boy can get into all on his own.”

Harry scrunched up his nose. “Thirteen,” he corrected.

“Ah, yes. I had nearly forgotten the spike in maturity we have witnessed since your grand entry into ‘teenagehood’ oh so many weeks ago,” Snape teased dryly.

Snape teased?

Mrs. Weasley chuckled lightly as she left them alone in the room, murmuring something about leaving Severus to do the fussing. Snape appeared unaffected by this comment as he continued to do just that.

“Now, onto the matter at hand. You appear to be much more aware of your surroundings than the last time you were awake. Are you currently experiencing any confusion?”

Harry shook his head. “No, sir, not particularly. I was really out of it before though, wasn’t I?”

Snape hummed in agreement. “Yes, I would certainly say so. Not terribly surprising after the little stunt you pulled yesterday. Perhaps this experience has taught you to make an effort in the future to avoid such foolish tricks whilst flying?”

Harry smiled tentatively. “Yeah, I… that was kind of a stupid move, I guess.”

“‘Kind of’? It was completely idiotic, actually. “

Harry nodded sheepishly. “I know. I’m sorry, sir.”

This time Harry did see Snape roll his eyes. “Enough with the steady stream of apologies,” he said as he took a potion vial out from his robes. “Surprisingly, you should be fine. No lasting injuries. You do not have a concussion, in spite of the signs you were showing last night. What do you recall of yesterday’s events?”

“Uh, well… I kind of remember falling, and you being there… what were you doing here yesterday, anyway?” Snape shook his head and motioned for Harry to continue.

Harry shrugged. “I remember waking up last night and being really confused. I think I imagined a lot of things, actually… I know I broke the vase, but everything else is just kind of fuzzy in my mind. I even thought… Well, I know that this is beyond ridiculous, sir, so don’t get mad, but... I thought I heard you say that you were my father,” Harry laughed a little.

Snape abruptly dropped the glass vial he had been holding and it collided with the floor.

They both stared at the shattered glass as the teal-colored potion oozed its way into the rug. Snape made no attempt to Scourgify and Harry felt an unpleasant flip in his stomach.

“I told you it was ridiculous. I mean, it’s not like that actually happened. Right?”

For the first time that Harry could recall, he was witnessing Severus Snape seeming to be at a loss for words. His mouth was slightly open and there was something besides animosity in his eyes. It was a mind-blowing thing in of itself, but the reason why…

“I mean. My dad… My dad was James. I know you hated him, but he’s still my dad, he…”

The silence that followed was unnerving, to put it lightly.

“He… he was your father.”

Harry’s panic suspended for a moment before Snape continued. “In every way that mattered. He… cared for you, I know that, without any doubt…”

Harry felt as though he was being held underwater, unable to come up for air. “What are you saying?” he managed to gasp out.

“He did adopt you, he was your father. But I… I am also… related in such a way.”

“I’m… I was adopted?” Oddly, Harry latched onto this nearly insignificant discovery. Well, it would be very significant if the reason it was brought to his attention had not been so very significant on its own.

“It’s not as shocking as it sounds, it’s different from Muggles. It was a blood adoption. You still share blood with him.”

“And… you… I… y-you’re my…”

“Yes…”

“Oh my God,” Harry muttered, standing up for a moment before sitting back down. “Oh my God,” he said again, drawing his knees up to his chin and hugging them tightly. This could not be happening. He must still be hallucinating. He simply must be.

“This is not how I wanted you to discover our... relationship.”

“Why… why didn’t you tell me before?” Where were you when I was growing up all alone at the Dursleys?

“I did not know until recently… your mother did not tell me. I assumed that James was your father.”

“Did she cheat on my dad with you?”

“No! Harry, Merlin no… we… We were together. Before. We were planning on being married. It… I am ashamed to say that I thought she had cheated on me when you were conceived, actually.”

“This is stupid,” Harry sneered. “I don’t believe you. I… I look just like my dad. You’ve said that. Everyone says that.” The funny thing was that Harry was actually looking more like Snape at this moment than ever before, with the sneer and all.

“Your mother placed a permanent birth glamor on you so that you would look like James.”

“Why did she try to hide it and why did she marry him if she wanted to marry you?”

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. “She was trying to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?”

Snape sighed. “Me.”

“Why?”

“I-I was not a good man. I still am not. I’m sure that you can vouch for that.”

“But… if she loved you, what did it matter? If you were really dangerous, why was she with you in the first place?”

Snape was quiet for a long moment before speaking again. “Do you know what a Death Eater is?”

Harry did not know, but he still felt a shiver run through his spine at the thought. “No. What is it?”

“It is what the followers of the Dark Lord were called. He branded them with what was called the Dark Mark. They still bear his mark on their skin even now.”

“What does that have to do with you?” Harry whispered, afraid of the answer.

Snape rolled up one of his shirt sleeves in response to Harry’s question. There on his left forearm was a hideous-looking black tattoo. It was a skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue.

Harry just stared at it for a long moment. “Y-you…”

Snape nodded and rolled his sleeve back down. “The worst decision I ever made in my life. For so many reasons. Losing your mother was the biggest reason, but now… now I know that I lost you as well…”

Blinking rapidly, Harry shook his head. “You don’t care about me.”

“I do.”

“Then why have you been treating me like shit since the moment we met? Just because you found out that we happen to share blood you’ve decided to play nice with me? Well, don’t bother yourself. I don’t need it.” Harry then remembered the rest of the conversation he had overheard. “You don’t want me, anyway. You didn’t even want to tell me the truth.”

“You are right. The way I have treated you is absolutely deplorable. I can not excuse my behavior. I felt that you would be better off without me because of it, better off not knowing… better off staying with the Weasleys. I thought that it would be for the best.”

“Best for me or best for you?”

Snape looked away at that. Harry stood up again but he did not sit back down. “Nobody wants me. You’re my father and even you don’t want me. You’re just like everyone else and I understand but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“Harry, it’s not that I don’t want you, it’s not that at all. You deserve better than me. But… if you truly desire, then I am willing-”

Harry cut him off. “Oh, so you’re willing to be my father? Well, that’s just great. No, don’t worry yourself over it. Maybe you were right. I wish I didn’t know. Maybe my mother was right, too. If she wanted me to stay away from you, then maybe that’s what I should do.”

Harry turned his back on Snape and faced the staircase with his arms crossed. “I don’t need you, anyway. James Potter was my father. He actually wanted me. He cared about me. H-he adopted me. He died for me. He was everything that you will never be for me. I’ll see you in class, Professor.”

And with that, Harry ran up the stairs, choking on a sob before he had even reached the top.

***

Severus had prepared himself for the rejection, he wasn’t supposed to care. But as he watched Harry make his exit, he felt the heart that he had nearly forgotten he possessed breaking into pieces and couldn’t help but feel surprised to discover that something could hurt him worse than Lily leaving.

Harry collapsed onto the cot in Ron’s room, his small frame shaking with the sobs that he was desperately trying to repress. He pulled the bedding up over his head and bit down on his fist in an effort to keep himself quiet. It didn’t do him much good in the end.

“Harry?” came the groggy voice of Ron. Harry held his breath and tried to be silent, hoping that Ron would just go back to sleep, but he still heard the bed frame creak as Ron slid off his mattress.

“Harry,” he repeated, murmuring this time. “Are you okay?” When he again received no response, he slowly pulled the covers down to see his best friend.

Harry averted his eyes, staring down at the printed golden snitches scattered across the sheets as he shivered, even though he was hardly cold.

Ron was quiet for a moment before taking Harry’s wrist and gently dragging him over and into his own larger bed, pulling the covers up and over their heads as they would sometimes do at Hogwarts in the middle of the night when Harry woke with bad dreams. Those were really the only other times Ron had witnessed Harry being so upset and vulnerable.

Harry curled up into his defensive little ball but managed to hold Ron’s gaze this time. “What happened?” Ron asked him quietly.

Harry bit his lip and shook his head. Ron sighed. “Harry, you’re obviously really upset… just talk to me, please?”

Closing his eyes tightly, Harry tried to come up with what to say. He wanted to tell him the truth, but Harry didn’t want to accept it as truth himself. But he lied to Ron about this kind of stuff more often than he’d like to admit, and it wasn’t a good feeling.

“I-I found out that my dad wasn’t really my dad. He adopted me.”

“Oh,” Ron said, astonished. He had known of Harry Potter before he’d known just Harry, and it was a bit of a shocker to think that Potter might not actually be his last name after all. “What about your mum?”

“No, she… she married my dad before I was born to p-protect me from my real dad.”

Ron’s eyes went wide. “Was he dangerous?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” Harry whispered back.

“Is he still alive?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know who he is? Is he still dangerous?”

Harry shrugged best he could under the sheets. “I dunno. I don’t really think so… he… it’s um, Professor Snape, actually.” He nearly gasped at his own admission. He couldn’t believe he let that slip past his lips so easily.

Ron’s jaw dropped. “No way!”

Harry tried to laugh a little but it came out as a sob. “Yes, way.”

“Wow,” Ron murmured. “But… you don’t look like him. You both have black hair, but that’s it. You look like the pictures I’ve seen of your d- your other dad.”

Harry nodded. “I know, it’s weird… Snape said that my mum put a, uh... birth glamour on me. So that I wouldn’t look like Snape. I didn’t really believe him at first, but… I don’t know why he would claim to be my dad if he wasn’t, I mean, he can’t stand me…”

“Yeah… he’s not really nice to anyone, though, is he? But… he’s seemed kind of better with you lately.”

“I guess... But I think that’s just because he feels sorry for me, after healing me and all…”

“What do you mean? You were just sick, weren’t you?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. “Um, yeah, sorta.”

They were silent for a bit before Ron spoke again.

“They really hurt you this time, didn’t they? The Dursleys? That’s why you came here, isn’t it? Those potions you’ve been taking are because of something they did to you.”

“No, they haven’t done anything wrong to me! T-they just…”

Ron scoffed. “Are you being for real, Harry? These are the same Dursleys that made you sleep in a cupboard for ten years and locked you up in your bedroom for days?”

Harry hugged his knees closer to his chest and didn’t respond.

Ron frowned but didn’t press that particular issue any further.

“I know that Snape can be a right foul git, especially to you,” he started quietly. “But you should have seen him yesterday when you got hurt. He was really worried about you. I think you were pretty out of it, but… he actually was kind of cradling you for a while there.”

Now Harry’s eyes went wide and his cheeks tinged pink. “Really?”

Ron nodded. “Yeah. I think… well, I think he cares about you.”

Harry huffed. “He’s never cared about me before, why should he now? Just because we share blood? I don’t care. Blood means nothing, look how Aunt Petunia…” he sucked in a deep breath. “Well, it doesn’t matter. It’s not as though I need a parent at this point, I’ve done without for as long as I can remember and I’m fine.”

Ron wrinkled his nose. “I know, you can take care of yourself. But don’t you think it would be nice just to have a dad?”

“Maybe,” Harry quietly conceded.

“It’ll turn out okay, either way,” Ron murmured.

Harry nibbled on his lower lip. Maybe Ron was right, and it would be okay. But Snape didn’t care about him, not really. Biologically being his father didn’t make him Harry’s dad. Not in any way that mattered.

He closed his burning eyes tightly. Ron and his breaths were blending together underneath the covers and it was making it a bit difficult to breathe, but Harry never wanted to leave this safe cocoon of their friendship.

Here he could allow himself to forget about Snape, the Dursleys, and every other problem that was determined to drag him down.

***

Dinner that evening was somewhat of a subdued affair, even the twins seemed to have cooled down a bit. Arthur thought it might have something to do with Harry’s red-rimmed eyes and the look that Ron seemed to shoot anyone who tried to engage the near-silent boy in conversation.

Arthur sent Molly a questioning look when Ron glared daggers at George for asking who died, but she just pursed her lips.

Once the table was cleared and the children had gone upstairs, he pulled her aside and asked what was going on.

“Severus left before I could ask what had happened, but I overheard,” she quickly made to defend herself even though Arthur had made no objections to her apparent eavesdropping, “well, it was difficult not to, as Harry was yelling at some points and I was just in the other room!” she sighed. “It sounded like he told him about you-know-what.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up. Molly and he had been trying to convince Severus that telling Harry the truth would be the best course of action, but Severus had been adamant that it would be a mistake. Arthur was surprised to hear that he changed his mind so abruptly, as just last night he had made it clear that he still felt that way.

“It didn’t go well, I take it?” Arthur questioned lightly.

“Well, obviously! Molly scoffed. “The poor dear looked so upset. I was hoping…” she sighed. “I didn’t expect everything to be all sunshine and roses, but I really didn’t expect there to be such a row about it.”

“I know,” said Arthur, pulling her into an embrace. “We were wrong. But I still think that Harry has a right to know. Hopefully, it will all work out in the end.”

He felt Molly nod against his chest. “Hopefully.”

***

Harry did not see Snape at The Burrow again that summer. His nutritional potions were still supplied as usual, but Snape wasn’t handing them to him any longer. He seemed to take Harry seriously about staying away.

Or maybe he realized Harry was right and that he really didn’t care about him at all past the fact they just happened to be related.

He didn’t know whether to be upset or relieved in that.

Harry could tell from the sympathetic looks that they would send him that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley knew what had happened, but they never said anything to him about it, and for that, he knew he was grateful.

The final days of summer had quickly faded away from existence. Harry and the Weasleys had all made the trip to Diagon Alley together just as they had the year previous, and before anyone knew it, September 1st had arrived and it was time to board the Hogwarts Express for the journey back to school.

It was usually Harry’s favorite day of the year, but this particular year he almost wished that he could just stay hidden away in Ron’s room. He had been doing quite a bit of sulking lately, he could admit, and he wasn’t exactly looking forward to resuming his responsibilities as a student of Hogwarts.

He especially wasn’t looking forward to potions class. But that wasn’t any different from usual, now was it?

Mrs. Weasley hugged and kissed all of her children (which apparently now included Harry, and while he appreciated the sentiment, he could really do without the slobbery kiss, he thought as he discreetly wiped it off his cheek) on the platform before they boarded the train.

Ron and Harry stumbled across Hermione during their search for an empty compartment, who flushed as she admitted to being a bit late when asked why they hadn’t seen her on the platform before.

They were unable to find an empty compartment, so they settled for one at the very end of the train. It had only one occupant, a man sitting fast asleep next to the window. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, he was obviously not a student.

“Who d’you reckon he is?” Ron hissed as they sat down and slid the door shut, taking seats farthest away from the windows.

“Professor R.J. Lupin,” Hermione whispered at once.

“How d’you know that?”

“It’s on his case,” she replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man’s head, where there was a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name Professor R.J. Lupin was stamped across one corner in peeling letters.

“Wonder what he teaches?” said Ron, frowning at Professor Lupin’s pallid profile.

“That’s obvious,” whispered Hermione. “There’s only one vacancy, isn’t there? Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Well, I hope he’s up to it,” said Ron doubtfully. “He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn’t he?”

“Ronald!” Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “So, did you two have a good summer? Harry, you seemed to leave the Dursleys really early this year!”

Harry had not exactly shared many details of his summer in his letters to Hermione, and he couldn’t really answer her question without revealing more than he wanted to at the moment. Ron must have sensed his hesitation and covered for him.

“I was bored out of my mind, couldn’t wait to see him and just wouldn’t shut up about it, so mum and dad went to get him themselves!”

If Hermione found this suspicious, she didn’t say so. “Oh, well, I wish that I had been able to visit the Burrow myself, but I did have a lovely time with my parents in France,” she smiled. “I’m glad to be going back to Hogwarts, though.”

She went on about how amazing France was before broaching the topic of Hogsmeade. Harry frowned as she and Ron talked about all of the amazing things to see and do in the village. When Hermione asked him what store he was most excited to visit, he sighed. “I can’t go. The Dursleys wouldn’t sign my permission slip.” Actually, he hadn’t dared to ask.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Harry! And here we’ve been going on and on about it and you can’t even go,” Hermione said, truly seeming sad about it. Harry hadn’t wanted to make her upset.

He shrugged. “It’s fine, really.”

“Maybe you can ask Professor McGonagall?” Ron wondered.

“Yeah, maybe,” said Harry, although there really wasn’t much of a chance that their strict head of house would sign it, he wanted to drop the subject.

Hermione had opened her mouth to respond to that when the train started to slow down. “We can’t be there yet, why are we stopping?” she said instead.

“I dunno,” Harry muttered just before the train came to an abrupt stop. Then, without any warning, all the lights went out and they were plunged into total darkness. He started to get up but a hoarse voice stopped him from doing so. Professor Lupin seemed to have woken up.

“Stay where you are,” he said as he slowly got to his feet, holding a handful of flames. But the door slid slowly open before Lupin could reach it.

Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin's hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry's eyes darted downward, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water...

But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Harry's gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black cloak.

And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.

An intense cold swept over them all. Harry felt his own breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, it was inside his very heart...

Harry's eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn't see. He was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water. He was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder...

And then, from far away, he heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams. He wanted to help whoever it was, he tried to move his arms, but couldn't...a thick white fog was swirling around him, inside him… there was a blinding green light...

“Potter,” someone was saying. The voice was familiar, but the tone was not. It wasn’t exactly kind but somehow it felt soothing, like it was trying to rescue him and bring him back up from underwater. Harry slowly opened his eyes and then started at the sight that greeted him.

“P-professor Snape?” he muttered weakly. His eyes darted around the train compartment. The lights were back on and he seemed to have slid out of his seat onto the floor. Harry felt very sick; when he put up his hand to push his glasses back on, he felt cold sweat on his face.

“W-what happened?” he directed his question and Ron and Hermione, who were kneeling on the floor beside him. He looked quickly toward the door. The hooded creature had vanished. “Where’s that-that thing? Who screamed?”

"No one screamed," said Ron nervously.

Harry looked around the bright compartment. "But I heard screaming-"

A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces. "Here," he said to Harry, handing him a particularly large piece. "It'll help."

Snape seemed to be annoyed about this as he sent Lupin a fierce scowl, but he motioned towards the chocolate when Harry didn’t immediately eat it. “Eat. It will help you regain your strength.”

“I- okay,” Harry mumbled, nibbling on the chocolate. To his great surprise, he felt warmth spread suddenly to the tips of his fingers and toes. “Woah.”

“Mmm,” Snape hummed while waving his wand over Harry. He was still waving it around when he told Ron and Hermione that they’d best head to the feast. They looked uncertain about leaving but Professor Lupin waved them away with a smile. “I’m sure he’ll be fine,” he said softly.

“We’ve made it to Hogwarts?” Harry questioned dumbly once they had gone. Once he said it he felt that Snape would probably say ‘No, Potter, I just appeared on the train out of thin air,’ although it would be a valid question as Apparition did in fact exist.

But Snape said no such thing. “Yes. You were out for a couple of hours.”

Harry gaped. “Hours?”

Snape nodded while looking over a scroll that had appeared. He seemed to be making a conscious effort to avoid meeting Harry’s gaze. Somehow it only hit Harry just then that this was the first time they’d seen each other since… the incident… and he suddenly felt very awkward.

“Lupin was correct, you will be fine,” Snape muttered after a moment. “I suggest you skip the feast and rest, a house-elf can bring dinner to your dormitory.”

Harry felt he should argue but even after the boost he received from the chocolate, he still felt exhausted. “Kay,” he said, mumbling. If Snape was bothered by his easy submission, he didn’t say anything about it.

Professor Lupin offered Harry a hand and pulled him up from where he had been seated on the floor. “Come along, there is a carriage waiting to take us up to the castle.”

They exited the train and Harry stumbled a bit when he saw the skeletal winged horse attached to the carriage. “W-what is that?” he asked, slightly panicked.

“What are you referring to?” Lupin asked quickly.

Harry pointed at the horse.

“You can see it?” Snape questioned sharply.

Harry nodded. He saw Snape and Lupin exchange a look out of the corner of his eye.

“It is called a Thestral, there is no need to be frightened by its less than stellar appearance. Thestrals have always pulled the carriages, just not all of the students can see them,” said Snape in his quiet tone.

“But why can I see it, why can’t everyone?” Harry asked, not at all comforted by Snape’s words. The horse looked downright terrifying.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Lupin said with a tight smile.

Oh, right, Harry had nearly forgotten that he was thirteen and stupid and no one wanted to tell him the truth about anything. Perhaps he would ask Hermione later if she knew anything about Thestrals.

They boarded the carriage and Awkwardness journeyed with them all the way up to the castle. Harry avoided looking at Snape while Snape glowered at Lupin if he did so much as sneeze.

Thankfully, it wasn’t too awful long before they had reached Hogwarts and were standing in the Entrance Hall.

“Erm, well. Thanks, Professors,” Harry said quietly as he started to turn towards Gryffindor tower. A gentle hand grabbed his arm to stop him and he looked up to meet the black eyes of Snape for the first time since… well, that.

“Take this,” Snape murmured, pressing a purple potion into Harry’s hand. “Dreamless Sleep. In case you should have need of it.”

Harry furrowed his brow but wrapped his fingers around the potion in acceptance. He and Snape just looked at one another for a moment longer before Professor Lupin offered to walk Harry to his dormitory.

Snape left the hallway without another word, black robes billowing beneath him.

Snape had been right in assuming that Harry would need the purple potion.

As soon as he had reached the dorm, Harry set the vial and his glasses both down on his nightstand and collapsed into his bed, ignoring the dinner tray that was sitting there as well. He was exhausted, physically, emotionally… it didn’t seem to matter that he had spent most of the final days of his stay at the Weasleys sleeping his troubles away, he was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

But it wasn’t to last.

Harry became trapped in a nightmare consisting of a woman’s screams, a dream that had been recurrent when he was younger. He hadn’t understood it at all when he was little and alone in the darkness of his cupboard, but he felt now that the meaning behind it all had become crystal clear even through the haze of green that tainted the dreams.

He was covered in sweat by the time Ron came in and shook him awake.

“You okay, mate?” Ron had asked after Harry had steadied his breathing.

“Mmm, yeah. Fine. What time is it?” Harry asked, reaching over to his nightstand for his glasses. His hand found mashed potato instead.

“It’s half-past eight, feast just ended,” Ron responded while retrieving Harry’s glasses himself and handing them to him. He grabbed a napkin out from under the plate and handed it to him as well. “Aren’t you gonna eat?”

Harry’s stomach flipped unpleasantly at the thought as he wiped potato specks off his hand. “Ugh, no. Not hungry.”

“Are you really okay? I mean, with what happened on the train… It was scary.”

“Um, yeah. I’m still really tired, but I’m fine. What was that thing, anyway? No one ever said.”

“Professor Lupin called it a Dementor, he said that it feeds on happiness.”

“Did… did anyone else, you know… pass out?” Harry asked, feeling heat rise to his cheeks at the thought of it.

“Er, no. But it was really just awful when it was there, everything seemed so cold and empty. I felt like I would never be happy again.” Ron shuddered a little as he said it. “Lupin did some sort of spell to make it go away.”

“Oh,” Harry muttered, feeling uncomfortable. Of course he’d been the only kid in the whole entire school to pass out, he always seemed to stick out. Why would he expect anything less?

“So, uh, was Snape okay to you?” Ron asked him.

Harry nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess so. He wasn’t mean or anything, but it was still awkward… I’m really dreading class,” he admitted softly.

Ron hesitated a moment before patting Harry on the back and sending him a little smile, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’ll be okay. He might even be nice to you this year.”

Harry snorted. “I don’t know. I think I’d be okay with him just leaving me alone for once, actually,” he muttered, reaching for the potion bottle on his nightstand. He turned it around in his hands, looking for the directions.

“Hmm, but maybe you could get him to sign your Hogsmeade permission slip?” Ron offered lightly.

“Yeah, maybe,” Harry replied absently as he read the label attached to the vial.

Harry,
Take one swallow before sleep, no more than three times a week. Come see me if you run out and still feel that you need it, or anything else.

The note had been left unsigned but Harry recognized the handwriting as Snape’s. Harry felt a sort of odd sensation building up in his chest as he stared at it.

“What’s that?” Ron asked, snapping Harry out of his reverie.

“Dreamless Sleep potion… I think I’m gonna try and get some more rest, uh, thanks for waking me, Ron,” Harry said, uncorking the vial and taking a swallow of it.

Ron shrugged. “No problem. There’s a party going on down in the common room, I told Hermione I was going to come check on you for a minute and she’s probably wondering what’s taking so long. Sleep well, mate.”

Harry hummed his acknowledgment as his eyelids fluttered closed. He didn’t even hear the door open and close when Ron left and he fell away into a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

For the first time in a very long time, Harry slept through the entire night and woke up feeling refreshed.

That still didn’t help to ease the feeling of dread pooling in his stomach. He was being ridiculous, he knew, as he didn’t even know what classes he had today but the thought didn’t calm him any.

He rolled out of bed and drug his trunk out from underneath it, taking out his clothes and heading to the bathroom for a shower.

Once clean and dry, he quickly dressed. He started to hear the sounds of the other boys in the dorm waking up as he was adjusting his tie. Ron would be the last to rise, Harry knew, so he went over to his friend’s bed and shook him awake.

“Five more minutes, Mum,” Ron muttered, rolling over and facing away from Harry who shook him again.

“Time to wake up, Ron, it’s the first day of school.” Ron groaned.

Harry laughed lightly and went over to his own bed, going through his trunk again and taking one of his Gryffindor robes out. It was a bit wrinkly, but nothing he couldn’t fix with a wave of his wand. Mrs. Weasley had shown him and Ron both a few tidying spells over the summer and Harry intended to make good use of them.

Once his robes had been straightened out and thrown over his uniform, he grabbed his school bag out of his trunk before kicking it back under the bed. He didn’t know which books he would need for that day until he received his class schedule from Professor McGonagall so he sat on his bed and waited for Ron to dress so they could go down to breakfast together.

Ten minutes later, Ron was finally ready as Ron could be and they went down to the common room together where they met Hermione. The three of them said their good mornings to one another and headed down to the Great Hall together.

“Are you feeling better, Harry?” Hermione asked, nibbling on her lower lip.

“Yeah,” Harry replied honestly. “I slept really well, actually.”

Ron raised his eyebrows at that and Harry rolled his eyes. “After you woke me, of course. It wasn’t even nine o’clock at that point.”

“Those Dementors were awful,” Hermione murmured. “I’m glad you’re feeling better now.”

Harry nodded as they turned a corner and entered the Great Hall, taking seats at the end of the Gryffindor’s table. They were munching on their bacon by the time they had additional company.

“Can’t believe Ron beat us to breakfast,” Seamus muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“It’s Harry’s fault, he’s such a bad influence,” a much more awake Dean added playfully, clapping Harry on the shoulder as he walked by. “We missed you at the party last night, mate.”

“Yeah, Ron said you weren’t feeling well, are you better now?” Neville asked quietly as he sat down next to Harry who nodded, inwardly sighing with relief. It seemed like his dormmates didn’t know about the Dementor incident, so hopefully, it wasn’t public knowledge that Harry had passed out on the train because of the foul creatures.

As the Great Hall filled with students, Professor McGonagall came over and passed out their timetables. Harry held his breath as he glanced over his before letting it out in a sigh. Double Potions with the Slytherins on the very first day… that would be cruel in any circumstances.

At least it wasn’t until after lunch, although Harry wasn’t sure if he would prefer to put it off or get it over with quickly. Didn’t matter either way, as Divination was his first class of the year, followed by Transfiguration.

Harry pushed his breakfast away, suddenly completely losing his already feeble appetite. Ron gave him a concerned glance as he looked up from his own schedule but Harry stood before he could say anything.

“I’m going to go grab my books, do you want me to get yours, Ron?” Harry asked, not extending the offer to Hermione as he knew she carried around all of her textbooks in her bag with a featherweight charm and he wouldn’t be able to enter the girl’s dorm to retrieve them anyway.

Ron nodded and gave him an appreciative smile as he swiped a piece of bacon from Harry’s abandoned plate.

“I’ll meet you in Divination.” Harry glanced up at the staff table and caught a glimpse of Snape sitting down to his meal and he quickly darted his eyes away. He turned around and headed back up to Gryffindor tower.

Entering the third year boy’s dorm, Harry grabbed his schoolbag off his bed and in it he stuffed his textbooks for Divination, Transfiguration, Potions, and History of Magic, as well as his shrunken caldron. He found Ron’s bag and put the same things in his.

Harry slung the two bags over his shoulder, then taking a deep breath, he left the sanctuary of the dorm and went to face his third year of Hogwarts.

***

Divination was completely bonkers, to say the least, but it was a great deal easier than Transfiguration. McGonagall was one of the strictest professors at Hogwarts and she wasn’t afraid to show it.

Still, she wasn’t the strictest professor at Hogwarts and at least she was fair to students of all houses. Unlike someone…

Harry trailed behind Ron and Hermione as they trekked down to the dungeons for Potions class, dragging his feet all the while. His stomach was practically a whirlpool made up of dread.

At least he knew he wasn’t alone in his discomfort. Neville was nearly sweating as a result of his nervousness and it wasn’t as though any of his other housemates fancied the prospect of spending time with Snape.

The third year Gryffindors and Slytherins stood in the corridor outside the potions classroom passing jibes at one another that they had thought up over the summer. Harry paid no mind to Draco Malfoy’s typical immaturity, but ignoring the blond boy only assisted in fueling Draco’s agitation.

“What’s the matter, Potter? Missing those filthy muggles you call family? I’m surprised they still allow you in their home, I mean there’s only so-”

“Mr. Malfoy,” a silky voice interrupted. Draco jumped and Harry glanced up from where he had been staring at his shoes during Draco’s tirade and saw Snape standing by the half open classroom door.

Snape vocalized nothing else to Draco, but his glare spoke a thousand words. The Slytherin boy visibly gulped and broke eye contact.

Snape looked over at Harry, but for perhaps the first time ever he said nothing to place the blame on him. Well, it might have also been the first time Harry said nothing in response to Draco’s taunts, so he didn’t really have any ammunition. Not that that mattered much, usually.

“In,” said Snape stiffly, opening the doors fully and waving the students inside the classroom. Harry took a seat next to Ron at a table towards the back.

Snape closed the doors and swept to the front of the classroom.

“Congratulations for making it to your third year in my class. I am truly astonished that not one of you have managed to blow yourselves up in the two years previous.” Here Snape paused and sent a not so subtle glance in Neville’s direction before continuing.

“However, very few of you appreciate the art that is crafting potions. I am not hopeful that this fact will change, but if you put forth actual effort into your studies, it is still possible at this point in your education to achieve success as a potioneer.”

Snape waved his wand and instructions appeared on the chalkboard. “Today we will be brewing Doxycide. It temporarily stuns Doxies so that the pests can be safely removed should your home suffer an infestation. I am certain that your families would appreciate the ability to brew this potion in such an event, so take that as extra motivation to do so correctly. Begin.”

Harry dug his shrunken caldron out of his bag and placed it on the table. He squinted at the instructions on the board, looking for the ingredients list and copied them down on a piece of parchment before going to the storage cupboard to retrieve them. Bundimun ooze (ick), Streeler shells, dragon liver (double ick), hemlock essence, tormentil tincture, and cowbane essence.

He set the ingredients down on the table for both Ron and himself. They juiced the Bundimun, grinded the Steeler shells, and chopped the dragon liver. It went fairly well, all things considered. Once all the ingredients were blended together in a precise manner over heat, they ended up with foul smelling black potions. Well, Ron’s had more of a grey tint to it but it smelt bad all the same.

The eighth and final step was to wave your wand over the cauldron, and Harry chuckled inwardly thinking back to his first potions class when Snape had stated that there would be no foolish wand waving. Perhaps this was intellectual wand waving?

Just as the thought entered his mind, Snape stopped by his caldron to inspect it. He studied it for a moment before saying anything. “Excellent potion, Mr. Potter. Five points to Gryffindor.”

Harry nearly fell out of his chair. He looked up at Snape, almost involuntarily, waiting for the punchline. But there was none, for Snape had already turned away.

“Time is up, bottle your potions,” Snape’s voice announced, and the class obeyed.

Harry picked up his bag and turned to leave but he was stopped in his tracks before he could make it to the door.

“Potter, stay behind,” Snape muttered absently.

Oh, no. He knew it was too good to be true. Maybe Snape would accuse him of cheating? It would make more sense for him to embarrass him in front of everyone, though.

Ron and Hermione stopped with him but Harry waved them off before hesitantly making his way over to the professor’s desk.

“Sir?” he inquired.

Snape looked up from his notes, and black eyes met green. “How are you faring today?”

Harry furrowed his brow. “Erm… fine…”

“Did the potion help you rest?”

Harry nodded slowly. “Yes, sir. Thank you for it…”

Snape waved a hand absently. “It was nothing of consequence. Just be sure not to abuse it.”

Harry nodded again. “Was that all, Professor?”

Snape studied him carefully for a moment before responding. “Yes, that should suffice. But… I am certain that this is a stressful time for you, taking into account everything that took place over the summer. If you find yourself in need of anything... ”

It was the kind of thing that should receive a vocal response, but Harry stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. He turned on his heel and fled the classroom.

What on earth was wrong with that man? Was he really going to play nice now just because of… because of that thing…

Harry attempted to shake the thought from his head. This was a mess, an utter disaster. It would be easier to deal with if Snape was being his usual cruel self, then Harry would be justified in his mixed up feelings… but with him being so bloody nice… this Snape was just confusing. It was all just too much to deal with and he didn’t want to think about it.

So, he wouldn’t.

The weeks of September passed by awkwardly.

Harry made every effort to avoid Snape and Snape seemed to make every effort to do exactly the opposite. Harry’s attempts were futile when it seemed like every time he turned around it was “Mr. Potter” this and “Mr. Potter” that.

It was a bit funny in some ways, as Snape was only trailing behind him like a lost puppy because of their so-called relationship, the relationship in which Harry wasn’t exactly a Potter…

Harry tried to push down his feelings of anxiety as he side-eyed the potion sitting next to his cup of pumpkin juice during breakfast in the Great Hall. He couldn’t possibly still need to take the nutritional potion, he had been in far worse condition upon his return to Hogwarts in previous years after summer holidays and was no worse for it.

It needed to be taken with food, anyway, and Harry was in no mood for bacon and eggs. He felt queasy just thinking about it.

Harry had been struggling with eating a lot lately. He had never really been that great at eating meals, whether it be by choice or force, and with his now pretty much constant anxiety he found it nearly impossible to choke something down.

Glancing up at the staff table, he saw that Snape wasn’t even at breakfast. He wasn’t currently stalking Harry like the great overgrown bat he was, so he wouldn’t even know…

Ignoring the potion, Harry grabbed a piece of toast before rushing out of the hall, telling his friends he had to go to the loo and would meet them in their first class.

***

Harry awoke with a gasp, sweat leaving a trail down his back after once again bearing witness to his mother’s death. Her screams echoed through his ears as he made an effort to steady his breathing.

He hadn’t known for sure, at first, what exactly the memory the Dementors had brought to him was, but after having dreams like this for several nights, the concept had become evident.

Once he would have given anything to have a memory of his mother, but if this was the only one he was allowed to have, he desperately wished that he could just forget again.

Harry squinted at his watch through the darkness. One thirty in the morning… Harry sighed, lying back down under his crumpled-up duvet. He had already taken the Dreamless Sleep potion three times that week, so he couldn’t take another dose for a few nights.

Did it really matter though? Snape tended to be a bit dramatic about his potions… In the Muggle world, medication had similar instructions about when it could be taken and spreading doses apart, but exceptions could be made from time to time. You couldn’t really overdose by taking three tablets of ibuprofen instead of two, just once…

Harry got out of bed and quietly dragged his trunk out, retrieving the Dreamless Sleep vial from it. He didn’t have many doses left and he certainly wasn’t going to ask Snape for more, especially when the man would know he took it more often than directed… Perhaps he could just ask Madam Pomfrey for some? It was unlikely that she knew Snape had already given him a vial…

Didn’t matter much at the moment, anyway. Harry was exhausted and he couldn’t go back to sleep with the fear of such awful nightmares hanging over his head. Wasn’t remembering during the daytime enough? Why did the memory have to invade his sleeping hours as well?

Harry uncorked the vial and took a swallow before stuffing it back in his trunk and falling onto his mattress for another peaceful, dreamless sleep.

***

Someone was shaking him.

“Harry, it’s time to wake up,” a voice said.

“Mmmpfhh,” he responded. The intruder left him alone with that and Harry drifted back off to sleep.

***

He was being shaken, again.

“Harry, wake up!”

“N-noo,” Harry whined, turning his face into his pillow. He was just trying to sleep, why couldn’t people just leave him alone?

Harry suddenly felt like crying. There was a difference between oversleeping and just not wanting to wake up. Harry had slept like the dead and he found that feeling dead was pretty nice.

Unfortunately, someone just wouldn’t leave him in peace.

“Harry, you’re going to be late for class if you don’t wake up. Are you sick or something?”

For a moment Harry contemplated lying and saying yes, he was very very sick and couldn’t possibly get out of bed, but then he thought about being dragged to the hospital wing and the idea lost its appeal.

“No,” Harry sighed, sitting up in his bed and rubbing his eyes. “Just tired.”

Someone handed him his glasses and he blinked up at Ron who still had his hand resting on his shoulder. Harry shook it off as he stumbled out of bed.

“Can you believe that I’m the one dragging you out of bed now?” Ron teased, though there was a worried expression on his face. Harry rolled his eyes.

“It was bound to happen one day, try not to gloat so much.”

“Yeah, well, everyone else has already left for breakfast so you’d best hurry.”

“You’re missing breakfast for me?” Harry asked with a dramatic air of admiration, but honestly, he did feel a bit touched that Ron would miss a meal just to try to get Harry out of bed. It didn’t seem like much, but, well, food did hold a special place in his best mate’s heart.

Ron smirked before looking down, the tips of his ears turning a bit pink. “Yeah, well… Now that you’re up, do you mind if I go on down?”

Harry laughed. “Not at all, I’m not so cruel as to keep a man from his sausages.”

Ron grinned, “I’ll be sure to save some for you, I dunno if you’ll have time.”

“Don’t bother, I’m not really hungry. I’ll just wait for lunch,” Harry said, shrugging.

Ron frowned but nodded. “Okay, see you in first class.”

“See you,” Harry said, turning towards his trunk and taking out his clothes.

***

Harry stood outside the hospital wing, shuffling his feet. He had at least a couple of swallows left of the potion, but he wanted to get this out of the way. He certainly didn’t want to be caught without the potion…

This morning he had really struggled with waking up, but he had been exhausted and he had taken the potion in the middle of the night. It was meant to keep you under for eight hours and he’d only slept for six or seven hours after taking it.

It had nothing to do with it being his fourth dose in a seven day period.

He sighed as he pushed through the hospital doors. Nothing for it…

“Mr. Potter!” A brisk voice greeted him. He cringed inwardly, remembering all the times he had been dragged up here after Quidditch injuries and now here he was of his own free will, volunteering his presence.

Madam Pomfrey looked a bit surprised to see him here herself, with no one by his side forcing him into the wing. Or being levitated while unconscious…

“What can I help you with?” the medi-witch interrupted his thoughts. He bit his lip. He hated asking for things, especially something like this… this, which would be awkward as hell.

“Um,” Harry started, glancing around the wing and noting that one of the beds was occupied. “Erm, can I talk to you about something?”

Madam Pomfrey seemed to grimace a bit, but she nodded in understanding. “Yes, of course, follow me to my office.”

Harry trailed behind her, feeling more and more nervous by the second. What if she did somehow know that Snape had already given him a vial of potion, just a few weeks ago? What if she just said no?

Madam Pomfrey sat in one of the visitor chairs in front of her desk and Harry sat in the one across from her.

“Now,” Madam Pomfrey sighed, picking up a few pamphlets from her desk. Harry couldn’t see what they said, but he wasn’t sure why he would need a pamphlet in any case. “You are a bit young to be thinking of such things, of course, but I suppose it’s better to be prepared,” she muttered, handing him the pamphlets and continuing her speech before Harry could really process what he was holding.

“In the Muggle world there are numerous products to prevent pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases, and you should still educate yourself about them should you desire a… relationship with a Muggle, but as for the Wizarding World, there are plenty of contraception spells that are advised-“

Harry had begun to tune her out as he stared down at the pamphlets, detailing words and images he had never imagined being handed to him by an adult, never wanted an adult to hand him such a thing…

“-the most important one, of course, being the-“

“Madam Pomfrey,” Harry interrupted, feeling his face heating up more now than ever before in his life. “I, I don’t- this is not what I wanted to talk about-“

“Well, I doubt that any young man wants to talk about it, many students prefer to be handed the products and be done with it, but you simply must face the reality that one night of fun can lead to a lifetime of consequences. I can not in good conscious simply allow you to-”

“No! I mean- I’m thirteen!” he exclaimed, practically throwing the pamphlets back at her. “I, honestly, this isn’t what I…”

Now Madam Pomfrey was the one turning red. Harry never imagined seeing such a color gracing her features and he desperately wished he never had to be in such a situation to witness it.

“I apologize, Mr. Potter, usually it…” she shook her head slightly. “What was it you wanted to discuss with me, then?”

Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before speaking. Of all the horrible scenarios he imagined, this one definitely did not even cross his mind…

“I… I was just wondering, if… well, if I could ask you for some Dreamless Sleep potion?”

Madam Pomfrey’s cheeks were still tinged pink, but her eyes softened. “And why would that be?”

Harry looked down, absentmindedly tugging at his sleeves. “It’s just that I, uh… I’ve been having a lot of trouble sleeping lately. Having bad dreams. After the um, the Dementors…”

Harry couldn’t see her face with his eyes focused on his lap so intently, but he could almost sense her nodding as she stood and went over to her potions cupboard.

“Of course,” she said as she came back over to him. “I’m sure it must be very difficult…”

Harry felt bad for practically using her, then. But he did feel that he needed the potion, even if he wasn’t willing to ask Snape for it or tell her he had already used it before...

“I’m afraid that you can only take this two times a week at the most, otherwise it could become addictive as well as lose its effectiveness.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. Snape had definitely written three times a week on his note. He was a Potions Master, so surely he couldn’t be incorrect about the dosage… Why would he allow an extra day?

And that would also mean that he had taken double the recommended dose this week… Harry’s stomach flipped unpleasantly at the idea of consequences, but it rolled even more uncomfortably at the thought of more dreams of his mother…

“Thank you, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry murmured as he took the vial from her.

She nodded. “I’m sorry that I can’t be of more help. Two times a week isn’t much of a relief, I know, but I suppose it’s something. Sometimes talking about it helps, you know.”

Inwardly, Harry snorted. Who did he have to talk about it with? His friends couldn’t possibly understand and he had no interest in disturbing them with the realities of his life. Professor McGonagall? Definitely not. Despite being a head of house, she wasn’t exactly the nurturing type… Snape? He was always offering an ear, but there was no way in hell Harry was going to take him up on that offer. If McGonagall’s position as head of house was questionable, Snape’s was outlandish.

Outwardly, he nodded. “Thank you,” he said again before exiting her office and the hospital wing.

***

Harry took his time walking back to Gryffindor tower. It was Friday afternoon, classes were out for the weekend and he wasn’t really in a hurry to make it to dinner, either.

Just as he was thinking of taking a turn to go outside for a stroll around the lake, he ran into someone - literally.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Harry muttered before realizing just who it was. Well, he was still sorry, just maybe not as much. Surprise, surprise, it was Snape.

Harry bent down to pick up the Dreamless Sleep potion and stuffed it into his pocket, hoping Snape hadn’t noticed it and thankful that the glass vial apparently had an unbreakable charm on it. He definitely did not want to brave the hospital wing again for more, Madam Pomfrey may decide that he still needed that talk regardless of whether he wanted it or not.

A hand was offered to help him back up, and Harry hesitantly accepted it. Snape’s firm grip wrapped around his wrist and pulled him back up. Harry flushed and kept his gaze to the ground.

“Erm thanks,” he said after a moment of silence. He did force himself to look up then and saw that his professor was scrutinizing him with that frightful obsidian gaze, a scowl furrowing his brows but he seemed to clear his features when his eyes met Harry’s.

Unwilling to maintain eye contact with those dark orbs, Harry looked down again.

Snape kept quiet and Harry found himself missing the Snape who wouldn’t shut up and leave him alone, this silence was deafening.

“Well,” Harry started, feeling more awkward by the second, “I suppose I’d best get to my dorm. Homework and all…”

“I do believe that it is nearly dinner time, Mr. Potter. Perhaps you should make your way to the Great Hall instead?” Snape finally spoke.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Harry said, feeling chastised though Snape couldn’t possibly know he was kind of, sort of, not really skipping meals when the man rarely appeared at them himself.

When it became clear that Snape had nothing more to say, Harry fled the scene. Casually, of course.

He stood outside the Great Hall, debating his entrance. His stomach was feeling rather full of that familiar anxiety and he didn’t think he could force anything down his throat just now. He turned and slipped away to his dormitory.

***

Severus stood in the shadows, watching his son hesitate at the doors of the Great Hall before turning towards Gryffindor tower.

Severus growled low in his throat. This was clearly not the first meal Harry had skipped if his bony wrist was anything to go by. His efforts with brewing the nutritional potion had clearly been wasted. On the rare occasion that Severus actually saw the boy at meals, he hardly ate anything at all.

It was ironic and a bit baffling, the child had been forcibly starved all throughout his childhood and now that he was free from his relatives at last, he was doing the same thing to himself...

Severus scrowled. He wasn’t supposed to care about the brat, but the brat had become his brat, and he wasn’t going to allow his brat to starve himself.

Someone had to look out for the child, his child… and if you wanted something done right, you just had to do it yourself.

None of the other professors seemed at all concerned about it. He’d brought the subject up with Minerva, but even she used the moody teenager excuse. Well, moody was about right, but it didn’t make the teen’s feelings invalid just because they were the result of hormones. And perhaps also due to the stress of finding out your most hated professor is actually your father…

Severus had wanted to respect his son’s wishes and stay away from him, but he couldn’t seem to manage it. His well-maintained self-control was slipping more and more each day as he watched Harry fall apart.

If Harry wanted to ignore their relationship, well… that was his choice. Severus did not, however, feel that the boy should have a choice in whether he cared for himself or not. And if he wouldn’t (or couldn’t) care for himself, Severus would just have to do it for him.

He wasn’t putting up with this any longer. Severus wouldn’t allow his son to continue on his path to self-destruction.

“Mr. Potter, stay behind.”

And there he went again. Harry had to stifle a groan. He had held his tongue for the most part, but this was getting ridiculous.

It was Monday morning, and Harry was definitely not in a good mood. He was exhausted, as was the new usual. Even with sleeping all through the night with the assistance of the potion, he felt as though he wasn’t sleeping at all.

His classmates had noticed long ago that Snape had taken up a new interest in Harry that did not involve ridicule and God, was it embarrassing… Did the man lose his sense of decorum?

Granted, he had never shown much respect for Harry’s privacy but now Harry’s private life was mingling with Snape’s, (loathe as he was to admit it) and so it begged to question, did Snape no longer value his own privacy?

The students had all left, Ron and Hermione didn’t even attempt to stay behind with him any longer as this was becoming a routine.

“What now?” Harry asked briskly, feeling irritated from lack of sleep or perhaps too much of it potion induced and failing at hiding it. “How was my day? My potion work was fantastic? What do you want?”

“You have not been eating,” Snape stated blandly.

“Oh,” Harry said just as blandly.

“Yes.”

“I don’t really see how that’s any of your business.”

Snape just stared at him incredulously.

Harry shifted his stance awkwardly. “I have been eating.”

“Not enough to keep a bird alive. I did not brew those nutritional potions just for the heck of it, you know.”

Harry bowed his head, feeling a mixture of hurt and shame. Hurt, because it sounded as though Snape really hadn’t wanted to deal with brewing the potions for him, and shame, because Harry hadn’t exactly been taking the potions as of late. The only potion he felt he really needed to take was the Dreamless Sleep. Even if he still felt exhausted, at least he wasn’t dreaming...

Snape sighed. “You are still recovering from… well, twelve years of starvation, frankly. You can not just eat when you please, you simply must maintain a proper diet.”

“How do you even know if I’m eating?” Harry challenged. “I don’t see you in the Great Hall very often-”

Snape’s lips twitched, just a bit. “Keeping tabs on me now, are you, Harry?”

Harry scowled. And there he went again with the Harry bullshit. “Stop calling me that,” he muttered.

“Calling you Harry?”

“Yes.”

“Oh? I apologize, I was under the impression that it is your name but perhaps I was mistaken,” Snape deadpanned.

“It is, but you’re not allowed to call me that,” Harry bristled.

“I am not allowed to call you by your name?” Snape questioned, black orbs seeming to grow a bit darker. Still, Harry was feeling irritable and didn’t back down.

“No! You’re Snape and I’m Potter, we hate each other and you shouldn’t be asking me how I am and keeping an eye on me, it is none of your business!”

“On the contrary, it is my business, and I have never hated y-”

“Bull-fucking-shit,” burst out Harry.

“Language,” Snape snapped, eyes definitely darkening now.

Harry clamped his mouth shut, knowing he had gone too far and starting to worry about what Snape would do about it. There was silence for a long moment before Snape sighed, loudly.

“I am not going to force you to be my son,” Snape started quietly. “But Harry… I am your father. I am your father and I am concerned for you. I can not just sit back and watch you destroy yourself. You are not eating…”

“I just haven’t had much of an appetite lately, sir,” Harry admitted quietly.

Snape stood from his chair and came around the desk. Harry flinched a little instinctively, and Snape sighed as he simply lowered himself to sit on the desk at eye level with Harry who flushed brightly. “Sorry,” he whispered.

“No need to apologize…” Snape muttered, slowly reaching out a hand and lifting Harry’s chin up to meet his eyes. Harry attempted to lower his head back down but the hand stayed in place, a firm but gentle hold. “For that, anyway. As for your language…” Snape smirked a little before saying, “apology accepted.”

Harry really hadn’t been apologizing for that but it was all the same. He averted his eyes, unwilling to look into Snape’s.

“Harry, look at me,” Snape coaxed softly. “Please.”

Harry forced himself to look away from the potion vials he had been staring at and back up at Snape.

“Harry,” Snape said again, but Harry found he didn’t actually mind Snape’s use of his first name as much as he had expressed. “I know that you are facing a lot of… difficulties right now. But neglecting your health will not make you feel better. It will only make you feel worse.”

“I know,” Harry said, unable to let go of his vexation completely. “I’m aware of that, really. But it’s… every time I even think about eating, I feel sick. I’m not hungry, anyway.”

“Then I shall prescribe you an appetite booster,” Snape declared, letting go of Harry’s chin and going over to the potion vials Harry had been staring at a moment ago. He returned with a particularly disgusting looking vial.

Harry’s abhorrence must have shown on his face, for Snape chuckled. “It does not taste as bad as it looks, I promise. But Harry,” he said, handing the potion to Harry who accepted it quite reluctantly, “potions can not fix everything.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that, Mr. Potions Master,” Harry muttered. Snape chuckled again. Really, would wonders never cease?

No matter, for Snape soon turned serious again. “A Potions Master and healer, who knows better than to drug up his patients. Many potions are addictive and unsuitable for long-term use.”

“So if not get high off potions,” Harry said, rolling his eyes, though his conscience seemed to be nibbling at his stomach again, “what do you suppose I do?”

“Talk to someone,” Snape said simply.

Harry scoffed. “Now you sound like Madam Pomfrey.”

“Well, we are both healers,” said Snape. “When did Madam Pomfrey say this to you?”

“Oh, uh,” Harry started, realizing he had talked his way into a trap, “I just went to see her about something.”

“Were you injured?” Snape asked sharply. Harry shook his head quickly.

“No, I just needed to, well, talk to her about something.” Harry’s face had turned red once again as he struggled to cover up the real reason behind his visit, and Snape seemed to take this as embarrassment.

“Ah, the obligatory talk then, hm?”

“God, no!” Harry exclaimed, horrified. “Why does everyone seem to think I need that talk?”

Snape’s eyes shone with amusement. “Well, you are growing into a young man, Harry. I would of course be happy to discuss the quaffles and the hoops with you, you need not journey to the hospital wing for answers to your questions.”

“I’m glad that you find humor in my pain!” Harry snapped.

Snape’s eyes quickly lost their hilarity. “I most certainly do not… I apologize for adding to your… discomfort. Sometimes it is easy to forget how self-conscious the young can be about the facts of life.”

Harry looked away, shamefaced. This had quickly become possibly the most embarrassing conversation of his life, and he thought that the conversation with Madam Pomfrey a few days ago would remain at the top of that list for quite a while.

“Returning to the topic... Madam Pomfrey is correct, talking things out with someone you trust can be essential to recovery.”

“Recovery from what?” Harry asked, feeling exasperated. “You keep talking as though I’m something broken in need of fixing, when I’m perfectly fine!”

Snape shook his head. “You are not broken, but I would wager that you are far from perfectly fine. There is no shame in it, just as there is no shame in asking for help.”

“But I don’t need help,” Harry argued.

Snape sighed, rubbing his temples. “Everyone needs help sometimes, Harry.”

“Not everyone,” Harry said firmly. “I’ve done fine without it so far.”

“You can not possibly-”

“Can I go now?” Harry interrupted, going over to the workbench he had been working at earlier with Ron. He grabbed his bookbag and shoved it over his shoulder.

“Can we have one conversation that does not end in upset?” asked Snape.

“I,” Harry hesitated at the classroom door before looking back at Snape. “I don’t know,” he quietly confessed.

“Come back over here and we can work things out.”

Harry stared at him for a moment, biting his lip before shaking his head slowly. He couldn’t allow himself to get attached to Snape. Whatever this was, it wouldn’t last. Snape didn’t want him. No one did. “Just, please. Let me go.”

“I will have the house-elves leave the appetite boosters with your meals,” Snape murmured.

“Thanks,” Harry whispered, hand hovering over the doorknob. Snape studied him for a long moment.

“You may leave. But I will not let you go.”

Harry didn’t hesitate a second longer before wrenching open the door and running away.

***

He was out of the potion far sooner than he should have been.

Wednesday night, it was either no sleep or chance the nightmares. Harry tried to stay up for a while but due to his less than stellar eating habits of late, stress from school, and just general exhaustion, he found that he couldn’t manage it, falling asleep around midnight.

It wasn’t long before he found himself back at Privet Drive, at the non-existent mercy of his relatives once again.

He held a hand to his reddened cheek, stinging from where Uncle Vernon had just slapped him. He willed himself not to cry, as it would not help matters. It would only make things worse. Still, he could not fight a single teardrop escaping the corner of his eye.

“You’ll stay in there for a week this time, boy,” Uncle Vernon snarled as he shoved Harry roughly into his cupboard. “No meals!”

The lock slid shut and Harry heard Dudley’s laughter echoing throughout the house as his cousin stomped up the stairs, shaking dust and spiders down from the ceiling of the cupboard.

Harry could not hold back the tears then, and it no longer mattered as there was no one there to see him. Unfortunately, the sound of his sobs could still be heard, as Aunt Petunia kicked the door and told him to stop his whinging.

“What, do you think someone actually cares how we treat you? Imagine, someone, caring for you,” he could practically see Aunt Petunia sneering through the door.

Harry’s red-rimmed eyes squinted through the darkness, hoping against all hope that despite his aunt’s words, maybe this time someone would come to rescue him from his horrible relatives. It was a dream he had given up long ago as a small child, but somehow, this time he felt as though there was someone out there who cared about him.

Suddenly, Snape appeared in the darkness, as though created from the shadows.

“Dad!” Harry exclaimed, reaching out to hug him. His father was here now, everything would be okay. He would get him out of the cupboard and take him away from Privet Drive just as he had always dreamed.

But as his arms connected around his waist, Snape roughly pushed him away. Harry looked up, shocked to see the coldness illuminating in his father’s eyes.

“Do you think that I’m happy about this?” Snape questioned harshly. “I despise you, Potter, that does not change just because I am your father. I wish I weren’t, I wish I never knew. I’m ashamed to have contributed to your creation. It was the biggest mistake of my life.”

“But Dad-”

“Don’t call me that, Potter!” Snape snapped.

“No, I’m Harry! You’re Dad and I’m Harry and we love each other! You’re supposed to take care of me!”

“Entitled as always, Potter,” Snape sneered with far more contempt than even Aunt Petunia could ever manage. “I do not owe you anything. I am not your dad. I am a sperm donor and nothing more.”

“Dad,” Harry choked, fresh new tears springing to his eyes. Snape glared at him before disappearing as if never there, leaving Harry all alone.

Harry crawled over to his cot and curled up on the mattress, stuffing a fist in his mouth to quiet himself as he cried his heart out. No one cared. His father didn’t want him, no one did. He would be alone forever.

Harry awoke with a gasp, feeling real tears sliding down his cheeks as he came back to his senses. It had felt so real, his… his father’s rejection.

But no… Snape had said that he was Harry’s father, even if Harry wouldn’t be his son. Snape hardly even knew Harry, not where it really counted, and still, he wanted to know him. He wasn’t rejecting Harry…

Harry was the one rejecting him…

Harry clearly needed more Dreamless Sleep and Snape had said to come to him if he did. Snape was always offering to help Harry… Perhaps he should take him up on that offer?

Harry put on his glasses and practically fell out of his bed as he hurried to quickly but quietly slip on his robe and house shoes and trek down to the dungeons.

Harry stumbled through the castle, making his way down to the dungeons. He wasn’t sure where Snape’s quarters were, but they had to be down there somewhere. Maybe if he pounded on his office door hard enough he would answer? Professor McGonagall’s quarters were attached to her office, after all.

Harry hovered at Snape’s office door for a moment before knocking a couple of times. He wasn’t as aggressive about it as his mind was demanding, but he was firm. He waited a few minutes and was about to try again when the door opened and a sleepy-looking Snape appeared.

Harry gawked at him just a bit, surprised to see his normally well put together professor in such a state of disarray… but then, Harry had just disturbed him in the middle of the night and despite popular student belief, he obviously wasn’t a vampire. Harry suddenly felt very guilty. Snape had been telling Harry lately that he was available at any time… still, the man probably hadn’t had 2 AM in mind when he said it…

Snape blinked a few times before rasping a “Harry? Are you okay?”

“I, I, uh-”

Snape blinked a couple more times before seeming to wake up completely. “Come in,” he muttered.

Harry almost turned away and ran then, remembering how the Snape in his nightmare wanted nothing more than to be rid of him. But this Snape only opened the door wider when Harry didn’t move, and so Harry made himself walk inside and follow Snape through another door.

Harry had expected Snape’s quarters to be dark and dreary, and while it was dark before Snape waved his wand to turn on some lights, it was far from dreary. If it had been anyone else’s quarters, Harry might have even used the word cozy in his description.

As it was, it was Snape’s quarters, and Harry found it to hold a certain aesthetic pleasure. The walls were green, but not Slytherin green. Just a pale shade of green. It was a fairly open floor plan, a living room with a couch and two armchairs, a small kitchen, and a couple of doors presumably leading to a bedroom and bathroom.

Snape interrupted his internal survey of the quarters as he led him over to sit on the couch. Snape himself took a seat in one of the armchairs, studying Harry intently.

Harry squirmed under his gaze, struggling with his words. He was sure Snape was wondering just what the hell he was doing showing up at his office at two in the morning, but he said nothing as he waited for Harry to speak first.

“Professor,” Harry began, “you said in your - er - note to come to you if I needed more Dreamless Sleep potion.”

Snape blinked, likely wondering why this couldn’t wait until at least nine in the morning, before nodding slowly. “I did.”

Harry bit his lip. This was a lot harder than it had seemed twenty minutes ago when he had woken from the nightmare and was on an adrenaline rush. “Well, I do. Need more, that is.”

“I suppose that isn’t exactly what I wrote, now is it?” Snape questioned, a worried frown creasing his brows.

It was Harry’s turn to blink. “Erm, I couldn’t quote it, but I’m pretty sure that’s what it said.”

Snape sighed. “I said to come to me if you felt you still needed it. I did not say that I would give you more.”

“Oh,” Harry said, blushing. “I mean, I’ll pay you for it of course, I didn’t think about it-”

“Harry,” Snape said, looking truly pained now. “No, I don’t… that’s not what I meant. The potion is addictive, and considering how fast you went through the first vial, I don’t believe that it would be a good idea to give you more.”

Harry felt the beginnings of panic creeping on the edge of his consciousness. “Then why did you want me to come to you, then?”

“Because, if you were still struggling with nightmares enough to be willing to ask me for more potion, I thought that you might need someone to talk to about it.”

“Well, I asked Madam Pomfrey for some and she didn’t hide any secret messages on the label,” Harry snapped, not realizing what he was saying before it had already come out of his mouth.

Snape’s eyes darkened. “You mean to tell me that you’ve been through at least two months worth of the potion in one month?”

Harry looked away.

Snape almost seemed to growl. “When I told you no more than three doses a week, I meant it!”

Harry truly didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut for long periods of time, so he found himself retorting, “Madam Pomfrey said twice a week, so you were already overdosing me!”

“I happen to be a potions master as well as a healer and I made a judgment for you specifically, as I know quite a bit about your tolerance for how much of what potions you can take. The third dose is often saved in case of emergency should it be needed in the hospital, but many healers agree that should it come to that, a fourth dose would not be harmful. A fifth and sixth dose, however-”

“I need the potion, Professor! I can’t sleep without it!” Harry interrupted.

“As I was saying,” Snape continued with a glare in Harry’s direction, “You are not actually sleeping with the potion at this point. You are simply overdosing yourself into unconsciousness and you are clearly exhausted because of it. I should have noticed...”

“Well, I’m still not sleeping without it,” Harry said, determined.

Snape rolled his eyes. “I suspect that eventually, you will not have a choice in the matter.”

“What, are you going to force me to sleep?” Harry asked angrily.

“No,” Snape said calmly. “I simply meant that the body has needs and it will sleep whether you want it to or not.”

Harry frowned, knowing Snape was right. That was what happened that night, after all, but even in exhaustion, his mind managed to create a nightmare.

“The dreams, I… I can’t make them stop. Not without the potion.”

Snape stood and came over to sit next to Harry on the couch, causing him to squirm a bit at the close proximity.

“I do want to help you, Harry, but the potion is addictive, as you clearly have experienced. I can not give you more.”

“Maybe I’ll just ask Madam Pomfrey for more, then,” Harry huffed, crossing his arms.

Snape scowled. “Then I will simply have to inform her that you have become addicted and must have limited access to the potion.”

“That’s not fair!” Harry exclaimed. “You can’t just waltz in and control-”

“Actually, I can. I am sorry, but this is for your own good. Perhaps you have forgotten the matter in which we discussed. Regardless of your understandable rejection, I simply can not watch my child-”

“Stop with that! I am not your child, I never have been and I never will be!” Harry burst out as his insecurities from the dream resurfaced.

“Biologically speaking you have always been-”

“I don’t- I don’t care about blood! Blood has been nothing but bad to me! Blood means nothing! Blood locks you in a cupboard and doesn’t feed you, doesn’t let you out for days and when it eventually does it’s not to care for you it’s to h-hit you a t-treat you like a house elf and-” his voice was trembling as his vision blurred with tears.

He then experienced the almost foreign feeling of someone pulling him close and holding him. His first instinct was to shove the arms off him, but they wouldn’t budge. Harry was being hugged by Snape and he hated it but he didn’t hate it and he didn’t want to be comforted but he was being comforted. He wanted to kick and scream and run away but he had been doing so much of that lately and he was just so tired...

“I-I don’t need you,” he practically whined but latched on to Snape’s night robes regardless. “I don’t need anyone.”

“Perhaps you don’t. You are indeed very capable of taking care of yourself. But you do not have to. You do not have to struggle alone,” said Snape.

“It hurt so much,” Harry whimpered, throwing all caution to the wind. “Knowing that no matter how hard I tried they would never love me… I, I tried so hard to make them love me but they just wouldn’t. They would shower Dudley in hugs and kisses but they wouldn’t even touch me unless it was to hit me. And you- you’ve been so cruel to me and now you tell me that you’re my father and y-you couldn’ve, you should’ve…”

“I know,” Snape murmured, rubbing little circles on Harry’s back. “I know I wasn’t there before. And Harry, I would have been. If I had known… but I am trying to be here now. You just have to let me…”

“I don’t know how,” Harry sniffled, his flow of tears increasing by the second.

“It’s okay. You don’t know how to be a son and I clearly don’t know how to be a father. But we’ll learn together.”

“I-I can’t.”

“You can. I knew your mother, Harry, don’t forget. She would not want you to suffer like this.”

“My mother is dead,” Harry said, sobbing by now. “I’ve never had anyone.”

“You do now,” Snape whispered in his ear, moving his hand from Harry’s back to his hair. “You have me now. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

Harry didn’t really believe him, not yet. But he was there now, and while Harry might not need someone, he knew that in the deepest, darkest part of his soul, he did sort of want someone. So he curled up closer to his potions professor/father and in his arms fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

Severus stroked his son’s hair, feeling his breathing deepening as he drifted off to sleep.

He hadn’t wanted a breakdown, but he had anticipated one. It was perhaps necessary. He was a bit shocked and maybe just a little bit pleased that Harry had come to him in the event of one.

Even if he had only come for the potion… Severus scowled, more at himself than the boy sleeping in his arms. He shouldn’t have expected a thirteen year old with as many issues to sort out as Harry not to abuse the potion. Once again, too much was expected of this child.

His child, his precious child… How could Severus have ever been so cruel to him? He was unbelievably cute in sleep, looking like Lily now more than ever before. And well, maybe there was even a touch of Severus in there… the less, the better, he thought bitterly, though there was a small sense of pride churning inside of him at the thought that it could show that Severus had assisted in the creation of this child, this child born out of love and who had been so neglected and abused and Severus was most certainly going to have to kill the Dursleys.

If only it wouldn’t guarantee him a prison cell in Azkaban, he would do it… but he wasn’t going to abandon Harry, not again, not now that they had finally found each other.

He picked up his kid, his kid, and carried him over to the guest bedroom. Gently placing him down on the sheets, he pulled the duvet over him and tucked him in. He plucked off the glasses and set them on the night table. Not going to sleep without the potion, hm? Severus smirked to himself, staring down at the angelic form who was dead to the world for a moment before sighing.

“So many burdens,” Severus murmured as he brushed a stray lock of hair away from Harry’s eyes, revealing the scar on his forehead. “So many scars you shouldn’t have…”

Severus mused for a moment longer before summoning something from his room, a stuffed lion Lily had given to him as a gag gift many, many years ago. She’d joked that one day they would have many children and she would make certain to give them all lion stuffies, somehow ensuring their placement in Gryffindor. He in turn gave her a stuffed snake, which had likely been blown to bits in Godric’s Hollow along with everything else besides Harry. If she had kept it, anyway. Perhaps she had blown it to bits herself...

Severus had stored the stuffed lion away the day he had first met Harry in Diagon Alley, but he never could bring himself to throw it out. He was very glad now that he hadn’t. He and Lily only ended up having one child, but that was more than Severus could have ever imagined during these last few years… and that child had of course ended up in Gryffindor.

Severus stared at the lion for a moment before placing it on the bed near the boy. Maybe Harry was a bit old for it, but well… Severus suspected he’d never had such a thing growing up, anyway. He was likely to appreciate having one now.

“I’m going to be a good father,” Severus promised softly as he ran a hand through Harry’s hair. “Somehow, I will do better by you. You deserve the world, and somehow, someway… I will give it to you.”

He leaned down and hesitantly placed a chaste kiss over the scar on his son’s forehead before turning away and exiting the room to fall into his own bed, not noticing the green eyes opening and watching him as he left.

***

Harry sleepily watched his father leave the room before his hands reached out to clutch the stuffed lion. He didn’t know why the Head of Slytherin would have such a thing, but Harry had never had a stuffie before and he certainly wasn’t going to question it now.

Closing his eyes again, he felt a strange yet peaceful sense of contentment wash over him. Maybe, somehow, everything will work out in the end...

The chilly January air bit at their skin as he and Snape walked on the sidewalks of London, heading towards the visitor entrance to the Ministry of Magic.

Harry thought that it was a very odd way to enter a building, through an old telephone booth. It reminded him of Dudley watching Doctor Who, though he wasn’t quite sure what role the telephone booth in the show played exactly. Or was it a police box? He’d only seen glimpses of the show a few times, and it was way back when Harry still had trouble distinguishing one color from another.

Harry had tried his very best not to think about it, but the knowledge that the eleventh day in 1994 was the day of the trial, the day he would have to testify against the Dursleys, had resided in the back of his mind for months. He had practiced and rehearsed in the bathroom mirror all throughout those months, even as he was pretending that this day would never come.

He knew that the day definitely had come now, and as they entered the box and Snape dialed six, two, four, four, two into the keypad, Harry wondered if butterflies could swim in rivers or pools as they had a habit of training for the Olympics in his stomach.

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business,” said a cool female voice from seemingly nowhere.

“Professor Severus Snape and Harry Potter, Dursley trial,” said Snape.

Two square badges came out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. “Visitors, please attach the badges to the front of your robes. You are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.”

Harry worried his bottom lip. Snape had assured him that the trial would be a quiet affair, but Harry thought that it would be rather difficult with his unfortunate celebrity status. Not only did he have the lightning bolt scar to prove it but now a badge displaying his name as well, things that would surely be taken note of during a search.

“Don’t worry,” Snape murmured, picking up the badge that said Harry Potter, Dursley Trial and pinning it on the far right of Harry’s shirt and pulling his jacket over it to cover it. “The voice you heard just now is of artificial intelligence and Madam Bones will meet us down there before we reach the security desk to escort us to our destination.”

The floor of the telephone box started to move as Snape put his own badge on and they were plunged into darkness. Harry thought he might have held in his breath the full minute it took to reach wherever they were going.

“The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day,” the female voice said once the lighting had been fully restored and the door of the telephone office sprung open. Yeah, sure, Harry thought to himself as he stepped out of the box and trailed behind Snape. It was likely a very lovely hallway that they were walking down, but Harry only took note of the polished dark wood floor as he was staring down at it.

“Professor Snape, Mr. Potter,” he heard a woman greet them after a couple of minutes of walking and Harry recognized the voice to be that of Amelia Bones. He might have overheard a few of her and Snape’s conversations through the Floo Network. She gestured for them to follow her and she led them to a spacious room he assumed to be her office.

“Please, take a seat,” she said as she went over to sit in the chair in front of her desk. Harry waited for Snape to sit down before doing so himself in the chair beside him.

“Now, Harry,” Madam Bones started, seeming comfortable with dropping the formalities in the privacy of her office. At the sound of his name, he finally glanced up at her and took note of her kind looking features. “I presume that Professor Snape has gone over the details with you concerning what will happen today?”

Harry swallowed thickly before responding. “Yes, ma’am, I think so. He said that I can wait outside the courtroom until they call me to testify.”

“Is that what you want to do?”

Harry glanced over at Snape before giving a hesitant nod. He hated the idea of sitting and waiting for who knows how long but he really didn’t want to be in a room with his aunt and uncle for any longer than he had to be.

“Okay. The trial starts in about half an hour so I’m going to take you to a comfortable room away from prying eyes. There are plenty of books there to choose from if you would like to read or I believe that you brought your school assignments with you?”

“Yes,” said Harry. His professors had given him the day's assignments that morning so that he wouldn’t get behind, though he very much doubted that he would be able to concentrate on his schoolwork today.

“Good. Follow me, then.” She stood and led them out of the room and they took a flight of stairs down to a lower level of the Ministry. The courtroom entrance was at the end of the hallway and Madam Bones stopped at a door several feet away from it. She opened it to reveal a truly comfortable looking sitting room. The walls were painted a warm shade of blue and the space seemed to contain enough books upon the shelves to be considered a library. The room was furnished with a couple of beanbag chairs and a plush couch. It was a waiting room clearly made for juvenile witnesses and Harry felt as though there would be a crate of toys hiding somewhere but he did not spot one. He wasn’t quite sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

Harry pretended to study the book titles as Madam Bones stood in the doorway quietly conversing with Snape. He couldn’t make out many words in their conversation, but his name was soon mentioned in a louder tone. He looked up to see Snape standing with his arms crossed and Madam Bones smiling softly at him. He approached them slowly when it became evident that they were talking to him rather than about him.

“I know that today will not be easy for you, Harry, but I believe that everything will work out in the end,” Madam Bones told him kindly. Harry forced himself to nod though he hardly agreed with her assessment. She smiled at him again.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” she said, referring to Harry and Snape.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered as she closed the door behind her. He stared at it for a moment before he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He didn’t have to look to know who it was. Well, considering that they were the only two in the room, it would have been pretty creepy if it had been anyone else but Snape.

“You should go,” said Harry quietly. “There’s only a few minutes left before it starts.”

“Perhaps I’ll stay here with you until they summon me,” responded Snape.

Harry shook his head, looking up at him. “No, you should go. I’ll be fine.”

Snape looked torn. “Are you certain?”

“Yes,” Harry said firmly. It was the plan to start with, after all. He would be fine. Fine fine fine. He wouldn’t be any more fine whether Snape was here or not, anyway.

Snape seemed to hesitate before kneeling down in front of Harry, hands placed on his shoulders. “Madam Bones is correct, everything will work out in the end. I wish that I could make this situation go away so that we would not have to make you testify.”

“Then don’t,” Harry pleaded softly, the nerves he had been trying so desperately to quell finally getting the better of him. “Don’t make me.”

“Oh, Harry,” Snape sighed, pulling him into a gentle embrace.

“I don’t want to do it,” Harry said, voice muffled. “I really, really don’t want to.”

“I know. I don’t want to make you do this. But it’s for the best, can’t you see?”

“I do see. That doesn’t make it suck any less.”

Snape chuckled and pulled away a bit to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s not your fault.” Snape seemed ready to open his mouth and go on about how every decision he ever made in his life led them to this moment and Harry placed his hand over his lips before he could start. “Don’t.”

Snape shook off Harry’s hand but said no more. They stayed together like that until they heard the sound of a clock chiming the turn of the hour. “It’s starting,” said Harry. “You better go.”

“Would you like me to ask Mr. or Mrs. Weasley to stay with you?”

Harry grimaced. He appreciated that the Weasleys had taken the time out of their day to support him at the trial, but he was really dreading testifying in front of them. He definitely didn’t want to sit in a room with one of them for who knows how long. Not today, anyway. “No.”

“Are you su-”

“Yes. I’ll be occupied with doing my schoolwork. Just go.”

Snape hesitated a moment longer before standing. “Okay. Okay.” He squeezed Harry’s shoulder before going to the door and leaving him completely.

Harry went over to the couch and flopped down onto it, sighing. It was going to be a long freaking day. One he surely wasn’t going to spend staying caught up on his schoolwork. He burrowed himself down into the cushions, preparing himself for a long yet still somehow terse wait.

***

Severus was in a difficult position. He, like Harry, had to testify today as he had been the healer to uncover and report the abuse. He also would like nothing more than to see the bastards Harry called relatives exploited.

Nothing more, perhaps, except staying with Harry and taking him far away from this. That’s what the parent in him wanted to do so desperately. The healer in him, however, had a responsibility, and knew that there wasn’t enough evidence to convict Vernon and Petunia Dursley without witness testimonies.

Luckily, the fact that Harry and Severus were related themselves was still a relative secret, otherwise their case might look very messy indeed. Even then, there was a big possibility that the Muggles would worm their way out of punishment. Severus wasn’t sure what he would do at that point. As a supposedly reformed Death Eater, it really wasn’t his place to take the law into his own hands. But he definitely knew how, should it come to it.

He seated himself in the front row next to Molly and Arthur just as the judge entered the room. Amelia Bones and Arabella Figg sat a couple of rows behind them. The prosecutor was sitting on the right side of the courtroom, the Dursleys were with their barrister on the left. Vernon sat with his arms crossed glaring at the judge whilst Petunia held herself perfectly still.

“Good afternoon,” said the judge. “For those of you who don’t know, I am Judge Randolph. I am a firm believer in fair trials and in justice being served. This is often a difficult feat to achieve, but if everyone here agrees to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, then we should be fine.”

Judge Randolph gazed out at the courtroom before him. Not many people were in attendance, Madam Bones had kept her promise on this being a private affair. He then looked down at his paperwork. “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley have both been charged with child abuse, child neglect and money laundering. I would first like to hear the opening statement from the prosecution.”

“Thank you, Judge Randolph,” stated the prosecutor as he stood to address the courtroom. “My name is Mason Flecy. I am proud to represent the Ministry in this case as I believe without any doubt that Vernon and Petunia Dursley committed these crimes. At the conclusion of the case, after you have heard all the evidence, I am confident that you will agree and that the verdict will be guilty.

“Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were entrusted with the care of their orphaned nephew, the child that Mrs. Dursleys sister gave her life to protect. They were given a stipend to care for the child, so there was no financial strain. While it is true that they may not have volunteered to take in their nephew, they did agree to do so and accepted the money easily. However, that money was not put towards the child’s upbringing. They used it to go on elebrat vacations and to buy expensive Muggle gadgets for their own child, all while constantly reminding their nephew what a burden he was on them.”

Flecy turned to face the Dursleys, no hesitation displayed in his features as he addressed them. “The defendants kept the child in a cupboard for ten long years, only letting him out for school and chores. They lied to him about his magical heritage and the truth of his parents' deaths, starved him and belittled him day after day.

“This is a strong case for emotional abuse and neglect as it is, but unfortunately it does not stop there. On more than one occasion, the Dursleys chose to partake in physical violence with their nephew. You will soon hear from Professor Severus Snape about the details of those injuries, but I assure you they were far beyond what one might consider reasonable corporal punishment, if there is such a thing.

“Why was the child being punished, you might ask? Accidental magic. Yes, something that most guardians are immensely proud of, the Dursleys used as an excuse to harm their nephew further. I must say, we are lucky not to have an Obscurus on our hands.”

Severus grimaced. They were fortunate, indeed. He supposed that Harry’s lack of knowledge regarding his accidental magic may have been the reason he did not try to repress it. You can’t exactly go about destroying something that you don’t know exists.

“You will soon hear from four witnesses. Professor Severus Snape, whom I mentioned before, will discuss the details of the victim’s medical report with us as he was the healer to uncover and report the abuse. Madam Amelia Bones will walk us through the investigation. Arabella Figg, a Squib neighbor, will provide an eyewitness account from throughout the years. And if that is not enough, the victim himself is here on standby.”

There was a possibility that Harry would not have to testify at all, but Amelia had said that he needed to be prepared either way and Severus hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up. Three witnesses should have been more than enough, but in cases like these it was probable that the judge would still want to speak to the victim.

“I ask you to give your full attention to these witnesses. After you have heard all the evidence, I believe that you will find the defendant guilty as charged on all counts. Thank you,” Flecy said before taking his seat.

Judge Randolph nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Flecy. The defense now may provide their own statement.”

The Dursleys' barrister stood. “Thank you, Judge Randolph. And thank you, Mr. Flecy, for that admirable opening statement. As a Muggle-born, I do often find myself reminiscent of the courtroom dramas that are shown on Muggle television, so thank you for providing us all with that refreshing bit of entertainment.”

Severus resisted the urge to growl. This was going to be a long day.

“My name is Jared Rimen,” the barrister continued, “and I am here today to represent the defendants, Vernon and Petunia Dursley.” He pointed to the wretched people as if to humanize them.

“There are no witnesses to be seen in defense of Mr. and Mrs. Dursley. Why is that, you might ask? Well, let us be honest. There is no need to use the evasive terms “victim”, “child”, and “nephew” in this case. We all know whom we are speaking of.

“The person in question is Harry Potter, a boy who is well-known for being, quite frankly, an attention seeker. I am fairly surprised that I was still required to partake in a magical oath to keep this trial secret.

“It is tragic, yes, that his mother and father passed away when he was so young. Things like that can leave a child traumatized. But Harry Potter takes this to the next level. It is quite saddening that he has now turned to accusing his own family of abuse. A family that has shown him nothing but love throughout the years and has only wished the best for him. I do wonder if it has something to do with his supposed defeat of He Who Must Not Be Named? After all, everyone knows that sometimes, darkness can only be conquered by more darkness.

“Which leads us to the heart of the matter. You have been told that the Dursleys are ashamed of Mr. Potter’s magical heritage when it is really quite the opposite. Mr. Potter is in fact ashamed of his Muggle heritage.”

Severus’ felt his blood begin to boil. Was this really the angle the defense was going with, that Harry was prejudiced against Muggles? The Muggles were prejudiced against anyone of magical heritage!

“Mr. and Mrs. Dursley have tried their very best to include Mr. Potter in their Muggle family, but he has only refused to accept that they are even related. He refuses to come home from school for the holidays, he has never once written a letter home, he goes off in flying cars, disappearing in the middle of the night!

“I do not wish to shame Mr. Potter, as I know that he is a troubled young lad. But now he has wrongly accused his loving family of neglecting him. This is nothing more than a desperate plea for attention from a misguided orphan. I am hopeful that you will see these facts and at the end of this trial, justice will be served. A verdict of guilty in this case would be a travesty.” And with that, Rimen sat back down.

There was silence for a long moment before Judge Randolph began to speak. “Thank you for that… enlightening speech, Mr. Rimen,” he said, shuffling the papers on his bench. “Mr. Flecy, you may now begin the examination of your first witness.”

“Yes, Judge Randolph. The prosecution calls Madam Amelia Bones to the stand.”

Madam Bones stood and went to sit at the witness stand as Severus presumed she had done numerous times before. “Do you solemnly and sincerely and truly declare and affirm that the evidence you shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” asked Judge Randolph.

Madam Bones raised her left hand in the air and placed her right over her heart. “I do solemnly and sincerely and truly declare and affirm that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

The judge nodded and looked to Flecy. Flecy stood and went to face the stand.

“Good afternoon, Madam Bones,” Flecy greeted her warmly. She smiled softly in response.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Flecy.”

“I would like to ask you a few questions concerning the investigation of the Dursley residence. The report of abuse was sent to you on August the 2nd, correct?”

“Yes, it was. Upon receiving the report, I sent two Aurors to investigate the house and take the Dursleys into custody.”

“And what did those Aurors find?”

“They found heavy traces of magic in the cupboard under the stairs, which suggests that someone of magical blood spent long periods of time in there. They reported finding four bedrooms upstairs, the master, the guest, a very well furnished child’s room and one other room. The final room had a cat flap at the bottom of the door, which if you are unaware, is a Muggle device used for a pet to go in and out of the house. In this case it was believed to be a way to pass food to the occupant of the room. There were also several locks on the door. The room itself was scarcely furnished. The room contained one window, which had bars on it.”

“Bars? As in, prison cell bars?”

“Yes, I believe that was the intent.”

Severus could sense Molly beside him becoming distressed even as she kept silent, but Severus kept his stony composure and strengthened his Occlumency shields. He had already heard this report, and Harry had said things as well; it wasn’t news to him.

“I see. Thank you, Madam Bones, I believe that concludes my questioning.” Flecy nodded at the judge and went to sit.

“Mr. Rimen, would you like to cross-examine the witness?” questioned Judge Randolph.

“No, thank you, Your Honor.”

The judge raised his eyebrows. “Very well. Mr. Flecy, you may deliver your second witness.”

Madam Bones left the stand and Flecy stood up again just as he was sitting. “Yes, sir. The prosecution calls Arabella Figg to the stand.”

The old Squib made her way to the stand where she made her affirmation just as Madam Bones had done.

“Mrs. Figg,” Flecy greeted her. “How are you today?”

“To be frank with you, young man, I am quite upset today.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because it has taken twelve years for this day to come. For twelve long years I have watched that child be harmed every way under the sun and it has taken this long for something to be done about it!” She crossed her arms over her chest and Severus wondered absently if he was imagining her glaring at him or if she was actually doing so.

“I find myself in agreement with you, Mrs. Figg. It is unfortunate that it tends to take so long to receive justice in cases such as these. Would you care to share with the court your observations of the Dursley family through the years?

“Yes, of course. I moved into the neighborhood, oh, just a month or so after little Harry had been left with those dreadful people. They barely knew me, but they asked me to babysit the little tyke quite often. While they went on trips with their son to who knows where, their little nephew was abandoned. Not that I didn’t take good care of him, mind you.”

“Oh, of course, Mrs. Figg! I imagine that you took very good care of the child. But can you describe to us his treatment when he was in the care of his relatives?”

“I would hardly call it care!” Mrs. Figg huffed. “He always had diaper rashes when they left him with me, and as I watched the two boys grow it was obvious that they adored one and barely tolerated the other. While Dudley was given the newest and finest of everything, Harry was dressed in hand-me-downs that did not fit him. The difference in weight was startling as well. Harry has always been a skinny little thing, and Dudley is the size of a baby killer whale!”

A small strangled noise could be heard and Severus perceived it as coming from Petunia. Harry’s cousin was severely overweight, after all.

“Yes, I think just about anyone could compare the two and perceive neglect. Did you ever notice any signs of physical abuse?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I think Harry was about eight the first time I noticed something. I wouldn’t have seen it if the shirt sleeve hadn’t been so oversized, but it did slip down and there was a very large bruise on his arm. I asked him what happened and he struggled for an answer for a moment before saying that it was from his cousin.

“While it’s true that the Dursleys allowed their son to bully Harry relentlessly, his hesitation was a big cause for my concern. There were several more incidents like that throughout the years, but the most notable one was of course this summer.”

“And what was it that happen this summer, Mrs. Figg?”

“One night The Accidental Magic Reversal Squad showed up at the Dursley house and the next day I saw Harry getting into a cab, looking like a train wreck. I floo’d Molly and Arthur Weasley, as I knew that their family is close with the boy and thought that they might could help. They made to retrieve him and the next thing I know I’m getting subpoenaed for court, so I’m assuming that it was pretty bad.”

“Yes, yes, it was pretty bad indeed. We will hear all about that from my next witness. That will be all for me, thank you for answering my questions so thoroughly, Mrs. Figg.” Flecy smiled at her and again went to sit. But when prompted, Rimen declined to cross-examine Mrs. Figg.

“Very well,” Judge Randolph murmured. Mr. Flecy, your next witness.”

“Wait,” said Mrs. Figg. “I would like to say something, if I may?” For confirmation she looked at Judge Randolph, who nodded.

She stared directly at the Dursleys. “For years I watched as you did everything in your power to tear that boy apart. He has every right to kick and scream and yell about the unfairness of life, but yet he doesn’t, for somehow despite everything, he is an outstanding young man. You tried to break his spirit, and you failed. I’m not in the habit of forgiving. I hope you spend the rest of your lives in Azkaban. But I know that if you asked Harry himself, if you offered him a chance to start fresh, he would forgive all that you’ve done to him in a heartbeat.”

She turned her gaze onto Rimen. “His capacity to love is beyond any I’ve ever seen. You are so very wrong about him, and I believe that will be proven today. Thank you.” She then left the witness stand and returned to her seat.

The courtroom was silent for a moment before Flecy cleared his throat. “Thank you, Mrs. Figg. The prosecution calls Professor Severus Snape to the stand.”

Severus felt Molly squeeze his hand briefly before he stood and made his way over to the witness stand. He secured his shields and placed on his mask. Now was not the time to be an angry father, it was time to be a professional healer. He made his affirmation before sitting.

“Professor Snape,” Flecy smiled and Severus blinked at him in return. “Is it true that you were the healer to document and report the abuse to the Ministry?”

“Yes,” drawled Severus, “that is true.”

“Could you go over your experience with us?”

“Yes. I was called by Arthur Weasley who requested my assistance at his residence. I first performed the standard diagnostic scan to detect current ailments. The child in question had sustained numerous injuries, nothing immediately life threatening but definitely could have ended up there if left untreated. After healing his present injuries, I ran a medical history scan. The list was extensive. I knew then that I was dealing with an abuse case.”

“What led you to believe that Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were the perpetrators?”

“Ninety-nine percent of the time, abuse is the result of domestic violence. It was the logical conclusion. It is also fairly public knowledge that he does not get along with his relatives.”

“One might wonder if this knowledge clouded your judgement?” said Flecy. “After all, it has been said that Mr. Potter is prejudiced against Muggles.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. Flecy hadn’t challenged Madam Bones or Mrs. Figg’s statements in the least, so he had assumed the same treatment. Perhaps this strategy could work, though.

“I assure you, I couldn't care less about the child,” Severus lied. “You can question my colleagues. He is a poor student and I’m skeptical to believe a word he says. However, as an experienced healer, it was fairly obvious to me how the injuries were obtained and the only real possible suspects. Taking into account the obvious neglect… I don’t really see how the defense can believe it has a defense.

“And I assure you that Mr. Potter is not prejudiced. His best friend is a Muggle-born,” Severus finished, rolling his eyes.

“Thank you, Professor Snape.” Flecy made no move to return to his seat this time, glancing at Rimen who chuckled.

“I have no desire to cross-examine this witness.”

Severus gave a sardonic bow before going back to his seat. Rimen was playing an odd game and Severus dreaded to see what dice he would roll once Harry was in the room. Though perhaps the three testimonies had been enough...

“All the present witnesses have spoken, Your Honor,” announced Flecy.

“Yes… now I believe that I would like to hear from the victim himself,” Judge Randolph stated softly.

Serverus sighed inwardly. No such luck.

“Very well,” said Flecy. “Madam Bones, would you please retrieve the lad for us?”

“Of course,” she responded, standing and exiting the room.

Severus had done his best to prepare Harry for this moment. Now he could only hope that it had been enough.

***

There was a soft knock on the door before Madam Bones entered, startling Harry and causing him to fall off the couch that he had most certainly not been taking a nap on.

Well, he hadn’t slept very well the night before.

The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement smiled at him and Harry felt the dread return to his stomach in a flood.

He sat up quickly, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. “Madam Bones?”

“Hi, Harry,” she said, kneeling down beside him. If he hadn’t known already, he would now know that this definitely wasn’t good news. “The judge is asking for your testimony.”

Harry took a deep breath. And then proceeded to choke on it.

It was probably kind of weird, having the highest ranking person in the largest department of the Ministry patting you on the back as you choked on air. But Harry was pretty used to weird things at this point.

“You only need to tell the truth, Harry.” Madam Bones soothed once his coughing had subsided.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “That doesn’t make it any easier.” He lifted himself off the ground and offered the older woman a hand up.

“Are you sure you're ready?” she asked, accepting his hand and standing alongside him.

“No. But I don’t have much of a choice, do I? I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

She hummed her response and led him out of the waiting room and into the hall, pausing in front of the courtroom doors.

“It’s not your fault.”

Snape had told him that numerous times over the past few months, but it felt quite a bit different coming from the lips of someone who wasn’t somewhat required to be nice to him.

He nodded. “I know.” And he did, didn’t he? It had taken a long time to come to terms with it, and he still sometimes doubted it, but deep down, he knew that it wasn’t his fault.

She smiled. “You’ll do great. Good luck.”

And then the doors were opening and Harry was shakily making his way to the witness stand.

“Good afternoon, Harry,” the judge greeted warmly, leaning over his bench to look him in the eye. Harry might have tried to smile back at him if he didn’t resent him a bit for holding the keys to his freedom.

“I’m Judge Randolph,” the man introduced himself. “Normally, I would have a witness swear an oath or make an affirmation, but as you are underage, I’m only asking you to make a promise, okay? Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?”

Harry nodded. He felt like he was being treated like a little kid, but he was so scared and nervous that he felt a bit like being treated like a little kid just then.

“Yes, sir, I promise.”

“Thank you.” Judge Randolph turned to address the prosecutor. “Mr. Flecy, are you prepared to question the witness?”

“Yes, your honor,” said Mr. Flecy. He then came over to face Harry. “Hello, lad. Could you state your name and age for the court, please?”

“My name is Harry Potter, I’m thirteen years old.”

“How long have you lived with your relatives?”

“For as long as I can remember. I was sent to live with them after my parents died, I was fifteen months old then.”

“Can you tell us what your life was like while living with them?”

Harry took a deep breath. “Terrible. I mean, what do you want to know?”

“How about you start by telling us about your bedroom?”

“Well, er… I didn’t really have a bedroom until I got my Hogwarts acceptance letter a few years ago…”

“Where did you sleep before?”

“In the cupboard under the stairs.”

“How many bedrooms are in the house?”

“Four.”

“And they made you sleep in a cupboard?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. What was your bedroom like once you were given one?”

“Well, I still never really considered it mine. It was my cousin’s second bedroom, for all his broken toys and stuff, and he was really mad when I got it. But, um… I guess it was better than a cupboard.”

“Yes, I don’t suppose you’d have very high expectations… were you ever locked in your cupboard or the bedroom for long periods of time?”

“Yes. I was locked in the cupboard whenever I did something wrong or sometimes when they just didn’t want me around. The summer after my first year at Hogwarts they put locks on the bedroom and bars on the window.”

“So if there was a fire, no escape…”

Harry shivered. He hadn’t ever even thought of that himself.

“They also installed a cat flap?”

“Yeah,” Harry mumbled.

“I see. What kind of chores did your relatives have you do?”

“Whatever needed to be done. Cooking, cleaning, yardwork. Anything, really.”

“Did your cousin ever participate in such activities?”

“No.”

“Did your aunt or uncle ever invoke physical punishment on you?”

He knew that they were there, watching him, and he tried his hardest not to look in their direction.

“Yes.”

“May I ask what they would do?”

His aunt was probably on the verge of hysteria, being tried in a freak court.

“Um, yeah. My aunt tried to hit me on the head with a frying pan a few times, my uncle just would hit me a lot in general.”

“Hit you hard enough to leave bruises?”

Don’t make eye contact, don’t make eye contact, don’t make eye contact.

“Yes.”

“Did he ever break bones?”

“Sort of. I mean, I don’t think he meant to but he would sometimes shove me into things and it just got a bit out of hand at times.”

Shit, I made eye contact.

“Did either your aunt or uncle ever see that you got medical attention for such instances?”

“No.”

There they were, glaring at him like never before. Reminding him that he was worthless, that his existence was a mistake, that he was nothing more than a burden and he would never, ever be loved.

“Do you feel that your guardians cared for you?”

But then he looked away from them and saw Snape and the Weasleys, even Mrs. Figg...

“No. They made an effort to remind me almost everyday. They made sure that I knew that I was unwanted in their home, in their lives. Just because my mother happened to be a witch… it was like I wasn’t a person, I wasn’t human to them. I’m not human to them.”

“I am sorry to hear that, Harry,” Flecy stated sincerely. “That concludes my questioning. Thank you for coopuration, you did well.”

Harry nodded. He almost breathed a sigh of relief, but he knew that the prosecution’s examination was the easy part. The defense wouldn’t be so kind.

“Would you like to cross-examine this witness, Mr. Rimen?” asked Judge Randolph.

“Why, yes, of course, your honor!” said the barrister excitedly. He hopped up from his chair and came to stand directly in front of Harry, blocking his view of everyone beyond him.

“Mr. Potter. May I call you Harry?” Mr. Rimen asked with a smile that definitely wasn't genuine.

“Uh, sure. That’s fine,” said Harry.

“Harry, then,” Mr. Rimen started, smile never faltering. “You stated that your aunt hit you on the head with a frying pan. Do you know the likelihood of your survival if that were true?”

“I did not say that she hit me, I said that she tried to hit me,” Harry corrected clearly.

“Ah. A what if scenario, then… is it true that you stated that your uncle never meant to break bones?”

Harry thought back on his words. He supposed that he had said that. “I suppose so, sir.”

“So you would say that those rare incidents were accidents?”

“No…”

“Could you explain how it is possible that a person did not mean to cause you harm, but yet did so intentionally?”

“He didn’t have to hit me in the first place, that wasn’t an accident. Then things wouldn’t have escalated.”

“Mmm… you said that these incidents occured when he would shove you into something, are you certain that you did not simply trip and stumble into things?”

“Yes, I am fairly certain that the hand causing me to fall was not an invisible force,” Harry returned sharply.

“If you say so… If it’s true that your relatives never seeked medical attention for your injuries, how did your broken bones manage to heal if you never had them set?”

“When I was younger, I could heal myself with accidental magic.”

“Ah. That seems likely. A very unusual talent…”

“Yes, well, not everyone can have the killing curse bounce off their forehead and live to tell the tale, now can they?” Harry deadpanned.

“Perhaps that was a lie as well.”

“Objection!” said Mr. Flecy. “Your Honor, this line of questioning has nothing to do with this case. The witness was not even old enough to recall the incident in which we are speaking of.”

“Sustained,” said Judge Randolph. “Mr. Rimen, you would do well to stick with the standard questions. The witness is a child.”

“Yes, and children tell lies,” Mr. Rimen muttered under his breath, but Harry could hear him. Did he really believe that Harry was lying? Did he truly think that the Dursleys were just lovely people?

Harry felt any and all traces of his nervousness seep away to be replaced by anger. He was not lying!

It wasn’t his fault, either, Snape had told him. It was still difficult to believe, but Harry wasn’t going to allow this stuffy barrister to tell him that it was his fault when it wasn’t. Harry didn’t choose to live there, Harry didn’t choose to be abused, Harry did nothing worthy of provoking abusive behavior. It was their fault.

“Harry,” Mr. Rimen started again, “are you certain that your relatives made you sleep in a cupboard? It is common for troubled children to seek a place for refuge. Perhaps you found it a nice place to hide and your relatives gave up on trying to correct this behavior?”

“I am certain that I did not choose to be locked in a cupboard for days on end, yes.”

“You said that you do not consider the bedroom you were given to be yours, yes?”

“I did.”

“Hmm. Is it true that you dislike your relatives?”

“Yes!”

“Is it because they are Muggles?”

“I, I-”

“Objection!” Mr. Flecy demanded again. “This line of questioning has absolutely nothing to do with this case!”

“Your Honor, sir!” Mr. Rimen interjected before Judge Randolph could speak. “This has everything to do with my case. The witness is prejudiced against Muggles, therefore could not possibly be truthful when making accusations against them!”

“I am not!” Harry broke in. “I couldn’t care less if they are Muggles or not!”

“Then why the hesitation?” Mr. Rimen retaliated.

“Because they happen to be the only Muggles I’ve spent time in close company with, and they haven’t exactly painted a perfect picture for me! But yet I still refuse to believe that all Muggles are bad simply because my relatives were horrible to me.”

“I think you have your answer, Mr. Rimen. Please, wrap up your questioning,” Judge Randolph said wearily.

“Very well. Harry, you say that your relatives did not care for you. Do you know all that goes into caring for a child? An unplanned child, at that? Finances, education, it can all be very stressful. It is not unreasonable to ask a child to help with a few chores.”

“I don’t know, sir,” Harry admitted. “All I know is that my guardians treated my cousin like royalty and they treated me like a peasant.”

“Children are often close-minded like that, yes. Thank you for answering my questions, Mr. Potter, that concludes my cross-examination.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Potter,” said Judge Randolph kindly, though he looked very tired. “Madam Bones, will you please escort the witness back to the waiting room for closing arguments?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Madam Bones agreed. Harry kept his head down as he was led out of the courtroom, worried that he would find disappointment should he look at Snape’s face just then.

***

“All rise,” the courtroom Auror stated as Judge Randolph came back into the courtroom. He hadn’t deliberated long. “After hearing all the evidence, arguments and testimonies today, I have reached a verdict.”

Severus held his breath. This was it.

Judge Randolph looked around the courtroom solemnly. “These cases always sadden me. If an accusation of abuse is false, then one can still presume that the family does not get along. If it is true, then, well… It is quite terrible.

“Vernon and Petunia Dursley. The court finds you guilty on all charges.”

Severus blew out his breath.

Petunia screeched. “That horrible boy! He lied, he always lies!”

“Mr. Rimen, please contain your client,” Judge Randolph stated firmly.

“The sentencing is impending, but let it be known that I have no tolerance for child abuse,” the judge continued. “It is in my opinion one of the most heinous crimes imaginable. The effects it leaves on a victim are long-term, which is why I believe the punishment should be long-term.

“In Muggle courts, the standard highest sentencing would be five years. However, as you consciously made the decision to abuse a magical child, you are at the mercy of the wizarding courts, which are notably a bit more… harsh.

“Petunia Dursley, you severely neglected a child in your care, your own blood at that. Regardless of magical DNA, he is your nephew, your sister's child.

“Vernon Dursley, you took the neglect to another level. You found pleasure in the pain of a child.

“Both of you used the money granted for your nephew’s care for your own desires. You bullied and belittled, for all intents and purposes, your adoptive son day after day. We can only hope that your own son will not be treated so cruelly by his aunt, as she is now his guardian.

“Mr. Potter remains in the custody of an undisclosed guardian. I hope that both boys are loved and accepted in their new respective homes.

“Thank you everyone who provided their time and testimony for this trial. Court is adjourned.”

Severus felt smug satisfaction as he watched the Dursleys being handcuffed by the Auror. He couldn’t help himself, he approached Petunia before she was led away.

“Tuney,” Severus purred, “it is lovely to see you here today.”

“You! I should have known, you’ve always been around to ruin my life!”

“Me? I’d say the fault there lies with you. I’m not the one who committed crimes, Tuney. Well, I’ve been cleared of all charges, anyway… Child abuse, however, you will be glad to know I have never partaked in.”

“Why should I care?”

“Ah, I suppose you wouldn’t… Still, I simply wanted to assure you that Harry will be well cared for. He is in my custody, after all.”

“Yours! Why?!”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Severus leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “I’m his father.” He smirked at the horrified expression on her face as she was led away by the Auror. He almost wished he had a camera to capture the moment, but he felt that it would be embedded in his mind for quite some time.

“Severus?” Arthur came over, smiling at him knowingly. “Shall we go tell Harry the news?”

“Yes, of course.”

The three of them, Arthur, Molly and Severus, made their way out of the courtroom, stopping once to exchange pleasantries and thank Mrs. Figg and Madam Bones for their testimonies.

Severus rapped lightly on the waiting room door before entering.

Harry was laying on the couch flipping through a Quidditch magazine (schoolwork, indeed) he had brought with him. He sat up quickly and looked at the three of them apprehensively.

“Guilty,” Severus stated simply.

Harry took a deep breath. Then another. “Really?”

Severus sat down beside him and drew him into a tight embrace. “Yes.”

“Wow,” Harry breathed against his chest.

“You did so well, dear,” Molly said, patting him on the back.

“I was worried I messed it up,” said Harry, voice muffled.

“No, you did amazing, kiddo,” Arthur assured. “That barrister was off his rocker. He knew that he had no valid case.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, inconspicuously wiping his eyes under his glasses before breaking away from Severus. “Cool.”

Severus snorted. “Yes, very cool indeed.”

His company all laughed before Arthur glanced at his watch. “I’m cutting it close on the time I was given so I’d better get back to work. It’s been really great to see you though, Harry. I’m glad to see that you’re doing so well.”

Harry smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Weasley. For coming, and, and everything.”

“Of course.”

“Would you two like to come over for dinner tonight?” asked Molly.

Severus looked at Harry, who bit his lip before answering.

“No, thank you, Mrs. Weasley, I… I just think that I'd like to be home tonight.”

“I understand, dear,” Molly smiled warmly. “Hopefully we will see you again soon, maybe you’d like to come visit us this summer?”

Harry nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, ma’am, I would!”

“It’s a date, then,” Molly said, patting Harry’s cheek before departing the room with her husband.

Harry watched them go, his small smile seeming a little bittersweet.

“They love you as their own, you know,” said Severus.

“I know,” Harry said quietly. “But I’m not theirs. I’m yours.”

Severus raised his eyebrows. “There was a time when I thought that I’d never hear you admit as much.”

Harry closed his eyes, shaking his head a little. “Yeah, me too. But you've been here all the while, dealing with me no matter what a great pain I've been…”

“Pain is to remind us to stop doing what we’re doing.”

“Stop with the healer talk, Dad,” Harry laughed.

Severus felt his chest constrict and the two looked at one another for a moment.

“Is that okay?” Harry asked softly.

“Yes,” said Severus. “Of course it’s okay.”

Harry nodded. “Thanks… Dad. Can we go home now?”

“We most certainly can,” Severus said, standing and placing an arm around Harry as he did the same. They exited the Ministry the same way they came in, walking on the London sidewalks in the winter sunshine for a bit before apparating to Hogsmeade and trekking down the path that led to Hogwarts, to Severus’s (and Harry’s) quarters.

It was over, finally over… but it was also just beginning.

Dear Sirius,

I hope that things are going well for you. I wish we’d had more time to get to know each other before you had to go to the recovery center, but Professor Lupin says you will be released soon and hopefully we will see each other sometime this summer. I know that you and my dad aren’t exactly fond of one another but maybe you’ll put your differences aside for me? I know that you were disappointed when I said that I wouldn’t come live with you, but it’s not that I wouldn’t want to. If I still lived with the Dursleys, I’m sure that I would have jumped at the chance. But now that Snape and I are getting along really well, I’m really excited to get to live with him this summer.

I know that you were kind of upset to find out that James isn’t my biological father, but I hope you know that he was still my dad. I don’t miss him any less now that Snape is in my life, in fact I feel really grateful for him taking me in and treating me as his own even though he knew that I wasn’t. That’s certainly more than the Dursleys could bear to even think about doing in regards to me.

I think that my life would have been really great if I had grown up with you, but I understand why that just couldn’t be and I hope you know that I’m not mad at you or anything like that. Hopefully you are still willing to be my godfather despite everything, because I’m really looking forward to being your godson.

Well wishes,
Harry

“So, Harry, do you have any plans for your room?”

Harry tucked the letter away in his pocket to send with Hedwig once they arrived at King’s Cross Station and nodded enthusiastically in response to Ron’s question. He had mentioned to his friends that Snape was allowing Harry to have free reign over his bedroom in their summer home. He was aware that he could probably easily get away with painting the room in red and golden stripes, but it would be the very first room that Harry could truly call his own and he didn’t really want to be quite so childish.

“Yes! I want to paint it blue, like a kind of light blue but not pastel… it’s my favorite color. I thought about hanging up pictures of the three of us as well,” Harry said, referring to Ron, Hermione and himself. He didn’t mention the stuffed lion he also planned to keep on display.

“Ooh Harry, that’s so sweet!” Hermione cooed. “I’ll have to send you some of my pictures I have at home, maybe you could ask your father to make copies of them? I would do so myself but we’re not allowed to do magic outside of school, of course.”

“Of course,” Harry responded, grinning at her fast paced speech. “I’ll ask him.”

“Still can’t believe you’re going to spend the whole summer with Snape. Not that I’m not happy for you,” said Ron, “but it’s just kind of bonkers to think about the end of this year versus the last.”

“I know,” said Harry. “If I stop to think about it, it is really weird.”

Harry never imagined that his father was someone other than who he had told it had been, and even if he did suspect someone other than James Potter, he most definitely would not have considered Severus Snape.

It was beyond upsetting at first, and even after his breakdown it didn’t all suddenly become okay, but they had both adjusted. In the past few months Harry had discovered that Snape was actually capable of caring for someone, even if that someone was Harry. It still didn’t make the way he had treated Harry in the past okay, but it did help to heal some wounds deep inside Harry’s soul. He was honestly really looking forward to spending the summer getting to know his dad.

“I’m sure you’ll have an amazing summer though,” said Hermione. “Maybe we’ll actually get to see each other this year!”

“Maybe,” replied Harry, though he wasn’t sure. Snape had recently become very tolerant of Harry’s friends, by Snape standards, anyway, but he still wasn’t sure if his father would want them around in the summer and Harry was still a little afraid to ask for such things. But then again, Snape did seem to be something like friends with the Weasleys so maybe he wouldn’t mind a visit or two to the Burrow.

The sort of friendship theory was proven as the train slowed to a stop, and Harry looked out the window to see Snape standing on the platform with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. The man was sporting his signature look of disdain, but there was a lightness shining in his onyx eyes as he waited for the students to exit the train. For his student to exit the train.

Harry grabbed his trunk and Hedwig’s cage and the trio shuffled through the crowded train towards the exit. Harry stepped off the train alongside his schoolmates and for once he did not dread to face who was waiting for him on the platform.

He had seen the man mere hours ago when he had departed from Hogwarts, but he still beamed as he approached him. There was a warm feeling growing inside Harry as he thought of an adult coming to the station just to pick him up and not thinking of it as an inconvenience.

“Hi, Dad,” Harry said quietly after he had greeted Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the latter of whom had once again invited him to visit sometime that summer. Snape made no objection to the invitation, so maybe it would actually happen.

“Hello, Harry,” said Snape, the corners of his lips lifting just a smidge as he greeted his son.

The two said their goodbyes to the Weasleys and the Grangers before venturing towards the apparition point. Once out of the prying eyes of Muggles, Harry released Hedwig and sent her off with his letter to Sirius.

Snape shrunk Harry’s trunk and Hedwig’s cage before wrapping his hand around Harry’s arm, and just before the sickening feeling of apparating took over his senses once again, Harry thought back on leaving Hogwarts. For the first time it had not felt like he was leaving his home, as he was finally getting to go to a new kind of home, one where he was wanted and loved.