Severus was breathing hard; his arms were impossibly tense around his child as if someone might snatch the baby away if he slackened his hold.

Well, they might. Albus isn’t above pulling schemes such as that one, never too low, never too condescending.

Severus knew that there was nowhere for him to go without Dumbledore knowing and eventually finding him, he also knew that his options were nonexistent. It wasn’t as if he could just leave the country or hide in a hole like a coward. Death Eaters had an uncanny ability to sniff out their own kind and Dumbledore was a persistent old man.

It wasn’t fair to Harry to go through all of that. Because the truth, as hard as Severus was trying to avoid it, was that without Albus’ utmost support behind him, Severus had no power. No hold. No choice.
 
He knew the decision he was forced to make. But he also had enough pride not to just turn and march back to the office, with his tail between his legs. He had enough dignity, not to look Potter and Black in the eye and watch them take Harry away from him.

Feeling overwhelmed and out of sorts, the potion protégé held Harry tight and quickly started tramping down the hallway and to the third floor.

He needed this, so did Harry. In his darkest moments, he always found some hope in Lily. And Severus knew how selfish it was, to expect any sort of hope or solution coming from his dead wife, but if not that, then he needed to say goodbye.
 
 “Mama?” Harry suddenly asked as they stepped out of the moving staircase. Severus paused briefly in shock and then figured his son’s guess must have been accidental.
 
 “Yes, baby. We’re going to see Mommy.” He muttered.
 
 He needed to have Harry’s forehead looked at and examined anyways. The dried blood must have been causing some of the irritation. Severus was somewhat relieved that Harry didn’t seem to be in pain. It was just a nasty scratch from fallen debris. It could have been, Merlin forbid, Harry dying by that bastard’s wand, but it wasn’t. it was just a scratch. Because of Lily.

Harry, for his part, seemed relatively calmer since they stepped out of the office. The calming draught seemed to be helping his son so far but Severus knew that an inevitable tantrum wasn’t far away. Harry must have been so tired.
 
 “Does your forehead hurt, Harry?” he asked the baby, looking into his eyes as he stood only a few feet away from the infirmary’s doors.
 
Harry crammed his thumb in his mouth and just looked at his father. Severus clicked his tongue, half-tempted to get Harry’s thumb out of his mouth and half relieved to see his son taking on his old habits.
 
 Severus figured that he must have left the pacifier back in the crib.
 
 “Use your words, Harry. Does your forehead hurt?” after receiving another blank stare, the father sighed and walked to the infirmary, momentarily listening to see if the place was empty or not. He knew that Hagrid must have left to give the files to Moody by now.
 
He entered when he heard no sound, quietly alleviated by Poppy’s absence. He deserved some privacy with his wife and son.
 
The lights were out, the beds were all empty, rowed in a neat line along the walls, with deft, straight white sheets, and empty vases on each nightstand. Far at the corner of the infirmary was a curtained section, which Severus assumed was where his wife’s body was.
 
 He didn’t call for Poppy, just shifted Harry in his arms, and trailed to the curtained bed. He slipped past the pristine white drapes with his breath held, bated with the knowledge that this would be the last time he saw his wife like this.
 
Lily’s beautiful red locks surrendered her face like a halo, a familiar image to Severus who was used to waking up next to his wife either looking like a fluffy lion or having some of her hair stuck in his mouth. The only indication that Lily was not blissfully napping now was her stiff posture and unmoving chest.

It truly settled in, the fact that she was dead to this world.
 
His chest seized in agony as he forced himself to step forward, with Harry thrashing in his arms and reaching out to his mom with grabby hands. Severus felt awful but also exhausted. He amenably sat on the bed and held his son closer to her body. Harry wouldn’t know the concept of death. He wouldn’t know that his mother wouldn’t react to having her name called, no matter how many times Harry did it.

All it did do, was relieve Severus of the anxiety that his son had been petrified into silence.
 
Her face was unblemished, with the exception of her bruised chin, probably after being hit with the killing curse and as the result of falling face-first onto the ground. Severus tenderly reached out a thumb and caressed the purple welt.
 
 “Mama!” Harry didn’t cease lashing in his arms.
 
 Slowly he reached out and uncrossed Lily’s arms from her chest, settling them by her sides, he soothed Harry, hushing the restless baby before lowering the child on his mother’s motionless chest.
 
Keeping a careful hand on the one-year-olds back, he watched sadly, as Harry went still and wrapped his arm around his mother’s body, with his thumb still in his mouth. The boy seemed too tired to care about the coldness of her skin or her non-beating heart. He didn’t exactly look thrilled, but at least he wasn’t restless anymore.
 
The image was heartbreaking, and Severus couldn’t stop blinking in order to stop the inevitable flow of tears from streaming down his face. He had never cried this much in his life as he was bawling his eyes out now, and it was only understandable. He lost his life tonight.
 
 “I have to do it, Lily. Don’t I?” he muttered.
 
 His wife remained mute.

“I have no one else now. If I keep him, he will die… if the Death Eaters find our son…”
 
His spouse’s eyes still remained close and her chest was still unmoving but Severus smiled. Even in death, the woman somehow managed to win every argument.
 
 “I promise I won’t ever leave him.” He promised, bringing his hand from Harry’s back to run his fingers over her shiny hair. Harry stayed blissfully unaware of the one-sided conversation.

He got up on shaky legs, his eyes flittering to check on Harry as he snatched a clean rag from the supply cupboards, charmed it damp out of Harry’s eyesight, and strode back to the bed. Unsurprisingly, Harry was so occupied cuddling with Lily, that he made little fuss as Severus gently cleaned his face of blood and grime.

The scar looked inflamed, a bright red color in a zigzag indentation, scabbed over. Harry cooed up at him and Severus softly smiled, then threw the rag over to the bedside table.
 
He fished out his wand and summoned a parchment, slickly drew out a pen from his inner robes and got to writing. If he was going to leave his son with Potter and Black, he might as well set the right conditions.

She was friends with them, Black and Potter and their gang. They were good friends, from school and The order both. He might not trust their son into their care, but she would have. She would have wanted this. And who was Severus to go against his wife’s word?
 
He wrote anything he could think of; from Harry’s favourite lullaby to his bathing schedule. He jotted down each task in a short detailed scribble. He would provide a better list later, he just needed something to get those two through the first few nights. Raising a child, even babysitting one, was no walk in the park.

Harry hummed to himself as Severus wrote, and it made him pause his writing, if only for a moment. That was something Harry and Lily did quite a lot, humming. She often used to joke around about how her son was going to end up playing in the weird sisters and send them tickets.

He knew that she knew he detested the weird sisters, perhaps with the same ferocity he hated Potter, and that was what made the teasing all the more profound.
 
 He dropped the pen, folded the parchment and leant back in his seat.

He sensed another presence behind him, mere minutes later. The steps were too heavy to be Poppy’s, but he didn’t turn to check for sure.
 
 “Should you be doing that?” Black’s voice cut through the silence from somewhere behind him.
 
 Severus didn’t flinch, though he curled his lip and narrowed his eyes, “It’s none of your business.”
 
Harry stayed snuggled with Lily and paid no attention to the other man coming behind his father.
 
“The image looks a bit disturbing,” The man commented nonchalantly, dragging a hand to rub his neck. Severus moved his gaze to the flickering candles hovering next to the bed rails.
 
“And currently within my rights,” he told the man as the silence dragged on. “He has the right to have some closure.”
 
Harry wasn’t going to get another chance to ever see Lily like this again. Granted, the child would barely remember it a few years from now on, but his son obviously needed the closure now. He wasn’t going to have Severus anymore in less than a few hours, and Snape wasn’t sure if he wanted to think about his son visiting his mother’s grave later on as he got older.

He wondered whether Potter and Black would even allow the child to know about them. Allow him to visit Lily’s grave, see his mother’s pictures, learn about Severus and all he did, and was about to do, in order to save his life.
 
His musings, before they could sink deep, were disrupted by Black’s loud and cringe-worthy yawn, followed by the sound of a metal chair screeching against the white tiles. The man dragged the uncomfortable looking chair to the other side of the bed and stretched his hands.

 “So you’re thinking about it,” He said, as if Severus had any choice.

He gave the man a long look as his fingers ran over the folded parchment “Not without conditions in place,”

he thrust the folded parchment on the man, over Harry’s body. His scowl deepened. Sirius’s chair skidded against the ground again as he leaned in to take the parchment, Severus huffed, “And would you please keep quiet? He’s exhausted.” He nodded at his pouting son.
 
 Sirius Black hummed and then nodded quickly. “Sure, sorry.”

He opened the parchment with raised eyebrows, his eyes flittering over the words that pained Severus to write.
 
 “What is this?”
 
Severus reclined his head. “His lullaby, if he got fussy, and his napping schedule. I don’t want his routine to be disrupted. He should take a bath every other day and he loves applesauce. I want to visit him at least once a month.” There, Severus thought. He kept it short and simple. He wanted to see his son every month even though the boy didn’t know he was his father.

It had to be enough.
 
The other man mulled his lips thoughtfully, eyes skimming over the list again with wariness. It seemed as if he wasn’t expecting such a small baby to require such a detailed schedule. Or maybe he thought that Severus was fucking with him on the grounds of their rivalry and mutual hatred.

Severus didn’t care.

“I’ll let James know,” Black said eventually, refolding the parchment.
 
They both sat in companionable silence. A silence only held for Harry’s sake, as the child was obviously trying to get as much rest as possible. Severus would have preferred him to nap, but he was too selfish to deprive himself and Harry from their last hours together.

“I’m sorry by the way.” Black broke the silence, his voice startling the small child out of his nap.
 
Severus glared at the man as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing painfully against his throat. “James was right. I was being an idiot again.”

But of course he was being an idiot. Severus knew why. He hated himself, and his logic for acknowledging it as such, but he knew all too painfully, now that he was gazing at his own beloved, lying motionless in front of him. “You think he might get hurt by taking Harry in.”
 
 It didn’t justify scaring his baby and yelling as if he was trying to raise demons from the depths of hell, but Severus understood, in a sick twisted way. He understood the urgency, the utter terror the other man must have felt when his partner was threatened.
 
 “I’m not denying that Snape…” Black admitted, ducking his head. “This is a war. I love him too much to let him die.” He trailed off and swallowed again. Black sighed audibly, dropping his elbows on his knees before burying his face into his hands.
 
“This is a war. People die.” Snape countered, not unkindly. He stared at his own wife, marvelling at the freckles on her arms and her perfectly plump lips. The ones he would never get to kiss again.
 
“But he shouldn’t,” Sirius replied at once. “Not before we get our happy ending. His gift, seeing magic … It makes him special. He’s already a target. If they knew we’re housing your son too…”
 
The candle flickered and his son dozed off again, his heavy eyes closing and his body snuggled closer to her body. Severus felt his own eyes weigh down, and his throat dry up.
 
 “You’re not being forced into it.” He pointed out, knowing very well, that just as he didn’t have a choice, Black didn’t either. They both saw, the gleam in Potter’s eyes as he regarded his son. He wanted the child, and he had Albus’ support, as he always did. Black would never say no to that.
 
 “Of course not.” Black pretended to agree with the Slytherin. Both knew there was no other way.
 
Black leaned back in the chair and wrung his fingers. He didn’t meet Severus’s adamant gaze and looked over Harry’s messy-haired head. “You know… this is the only way for us to ever get a child.” The man admitted bashfully.
 
 He wasn’t wrong, Severus supposed. Being in a same-sex relationship was scandalous enough on its own, not only it was deemed illegal and was seldom recognized, but people outright had the right to turn them in for it. The laws were never clear in the field, but Severus knew that being a werewolf was a vast improvement to being gay in the wizarding world.
 
Seeing as they didn’t have the right to get married, adopting or getting a child in any way was also deemed illegal by the ministry. They had the right to snatch the children away from their parents at any given chance if reported.

Which made them all the more illegible. Albus wouldn’t entrust Harry into someone’s care who might get reported. Severus highly suspected both men to be bribing the ministry, or pulling some sort of string, to have and maintain what they called this semblance of a relationship.

“If you loved him…” Severus said, before he could stop himself, “You would have taken him and fled.”

Sirius chortled, “Fled where? You seem to be forgetting that we’re talking about James. That man can bring down the sky,” he threw a meaningful gaze at Lily, “I suppose you do know that.”

“If they report you…”

“That is not a concern,” Black snapped.
 
But it could be, and it would have been a cause for concern hadn’t this been Potter and Black. The most problematic issue they would ever encounter was the hush money they would have to pay from time to time, and seeing as Lily’s name was filling in as Harry’s mother, Severus doubted it would even come to that.
 
 “The circumstances are grim and ugly, but he wants it. We never talked about kids before, it was quite pointless, and I know he feels bad about being happy about this.” He met Severus’s eyes, his expression oddly vulnerable and devoid of the wildness the other man proudly carries.
 
 “He hides it well, but he is happy.”
 
 “Why are you telling me this?” Severus asked.
 
Black shrugged, straightening his posture immediately. “To assure you I guess. The kid is not going to get neglected or anything. We’re not monsters.” He paused for a moment, “And she was a good woman.” He nodded his chin at Lily. “A good friend. A bit too feisty for her own good, but…”
 
 “What are you trying to say?” Snape repeated, feeling the frustration build up in his chest.
 
 Black threw his hands up with a groan. “I don’t know… Condolences I guess. I feel bad just staring at her and saying nothing. I know it doesn’t help but… your son has her eyes. That’s a nice relic.”
 
As if on cue, Harry’s eyes fluttered open and he grinned lazily at his father glancing down at him. Severus smiled back weakly, his hand rubbing the child’s back.
 
 “You’re going to obliviate him, aren’t you?”
 
They had to. It was too dangerous for Harry to even have the faintest of memories of all this. Of his life with his real, biological parents. If Voldemort was really out there, then Severus shuddered to know the kind of future his son was going to grow up in.
 
Black sighed, avoided Severus’ gaze, “It’s not in our hands, and Albus said we need to consult a healer first,” he shrugged, it was a desperate gesture, “your son is just a one-year-old, his head seems to have taken a hit…I don’t know this shit, but still.” Black dared to make the slightest touch, and gently stroked the back of Harry’s head only for a moment. “He’ll probably choose Poppy. I saw her heading to the office. She’s waiting for you to finish.”

Severus gave him a look that implied that he wasn’t going to be done here anytime soon.
 
Harry complained at the touch with a whimper and Black snorted. The man groaned as his neck cracked. He fetched out his wand and pointed it at the table. After a quick muttered spell, two glass shots and a bottle appeared. Black moaned with relief and a luge dot get the bottle of scotch.
 
 “Want some?” he held it towards Snape as he filled his own glass to the brim. Severus declined, crossing his arms over his chest carefully. He was always wary of alcohol. As a double agent and a victim of abuse himself—his asshole of a father being an alcoholic—, the liquid posed nothing but an inconvenience for him.
 
He did fool around with Firewhisky when he was younger, but his early days as a death eater taught him that drinking while spying was not a good idea. It made occluding a very tiring task and muddled his thoughts, definitely not the best combination in order to survive.
 
 “Lucius is going to call for a meeting soon, so no, not if I want to keep my head intact on my shoulders.” He barked at the grinning man. Sirius gulped in one mouthful after the other with that smug wolfish grin adorning his face.
 
 “Still trying to kill me, mutt?”
 
Black grimaced, twirling his glass in his hand. “Never again, Snivellus.” He vowed. “Not after hurting Remus like that.” He drowned the last mouthful, running a hand through his shaggy hair.

As if hurting ‘Remus’ even slightly compared to the trauma Severus went through. But he supposed that to Black, Severus’ feelings didn’t matter shit. If Lupin wasn’t his friend, if he had killed Severus in that state, Sirius Black wouldn’t have bat an eyelash. Not when he could have gotten away with it.

Severus couldn’t express how much he detested leaving his one-year-old infant into the care of a man who wanted him dead. Then again, the way Potter looked at the child made it quite clear that anyone wanting to hurt Harry needed to go through him.

‘You are indebted to me,’ Potter had told him that night, it all seemed like a haze that night. Severus remembered bits and pieces, and these words, the last words he and Potter exchanged that night, were the only thing he remembered clearly.
 
 He held Black’s eyes as the man curled his lips, “I’ll just hate your guts until the day I die.”
 
 Severus allowed an amused smirk. “I will drink to that.”
 
 His eyes fell back on his family and dark shadows were cast over his eyes. “Could you leave us?” he asked the other man but didn’t lift his gaze to see Black’s expression.
 
 Sirius stood, taking the bottle in his other hand. He gestured at Harry with his empty glass.
 
 “Do you want me to take the…” he cut himself off. “Uh…Harold?”

Drunk and holding a bottle? Severus sneered. He could not trust Harry into anyone’s arms but Potter’s, and that was done so with disdain.
 
 “No.”
 
“Poppy and I will be in her office, Snape.” He walked back to the curtains. “I’m really sorry about your wife and son.” He said over his shoulder, glancing quickly at the graceful woman on the bed before hanging his head. “James sincerely is, and I would be too, given time.”
 
“I don’t need your pity,” Severus growled while leaning in to pick Harry up.
 
“The sun doesn’t rise and set with you. You’re a grown-ass man raised in a war, of course, you don’t.” the sound of the bottle knocking clumsily on glass made him roll his eyes. “That kid needs it.” Sirius finished.
 
Severus’s hand left Harry’s back and he twisted his waist to look at the man with disgust. “That kid is going to call you his father . The least you can do is calling him by his given name.”
 
“I’m working on it, Snape.” The other man vowed, patting the folded parchment in his pockets as he slipped past the curtains. A glass of scotch still nestled in his hand.
 
 ***

On Black’s unspoken request—Dumbledore’s direct orders to the man, undoubtedly—the matron hadn’t been informed of the procedure she was about to perform on Harold whilst she was examining the cursed scar on his forehead.
 
 The older woman deftly examined the scar and cleaned the scab with the wand she kept hidden in her long healer’s robes. All too much aware of the baby’s intense green eyes ogling her with wariness.
 
 “It’s a curse scar.” She confirmed sadly, and much to Severus’ astonishment, who was more than sure that the scar was just the result of fallen debris, “Potter was right. I cannot verify the origins, but the curse-whatever it was- had been partially blocked. It’s relatively harmless.”
 
 Black rubbed his chin again. It’s a nervous tick, Severus realized as he saw the repeated act and then deleted the useless information immediately.

“Is there any way to know which curse was used?” Black asked, turning his body to face the matron.
 
The woman shrugged. “There isn’t a wide variety to choose from, or he most likely would have been…” she trailed off meaningfully.
 
Then she took a deep breath, “It was harmless enough or rather not strong enough that partial exposure didn’t do much damage. You said he was in his nursery when it happened.” She looked at Severus. “Could it be that an unforgivable was about to be performed on your son and Lily got in the way? The scar might have been caused as a backlash occurring after the curse.”
 
 Severus looked at her for a few moments, trying to comprehend the words that were coming out of her mouth. He imagined his wife hurriedly running up the stairs with a crying Harry in her arms, she dashed into the nursery, put him in the crib and then ran out to lock the door. Severus frowned; no, the door wasn’t locked, and she didn’t have her wand, so she didn’t get there in time. She must have been blocking the doorframe with her body when it happened.
 
He closed his eyes, practically seeing the scene taking place before his eyelids. The Dark Lord’s taller and terrifying presence before his terrified wife, with her being the only blockage between him and the innocent, crying baby in the room.
 
 He pushed the crashing rush of overwhelming emotions in a wooden box and shoved them to the furthest corner of his mind. Occlumency was a must in that instance, he realized.
 
 “She could have been.” He said slowly. “I found her body outside the nursery.”
 
 Poppy hung her head in grief. Sirius Black cleared his throat, his respect for the unmoving woman lying on the bed seemed to be rising considerably.
 
They floo-ed back to the office one at the time, with grim faces and a twist in their guts. The office looked the same as before, with the exception of Lupin’s sudden absence. Potter swallowed thickly upon seeing the group and fixed his glasses with twitching fingers.
 
Sirius Black was by his side in a blink, his eyes questioning their friend’s absence. James shook his head.
 
“His furry little problem. Tonight wasn’t a good one.” The man muttered, his hazel eyes narrowed as he eyeballed the baby that was about to be his in a few minutes.
 
Severus kept his stoic demeanour as he settled in his seat, and tried to ignore the hate exuding off his body in regards to Potter. Albus, unceremoniously and immediately started talking to Poppy and explaining ‘the situation’.

 That was fifteen minutes ago. Poppy hadn’t spoken since.
 
The air around the office was insanely strained; Lupin was gone, and the only people left in the room were imposed to a resigned silence. Severus felt the calming draught gradually take effect on his child, with the small baby languidly grabbing at his robes with closed eyes and mouthing incoherent words.
 
Poppy Pomfrey looked downright scandalized, her widened eyes kept shifting between the stoic father and his one-year-old to the muttering couple on the other side of the room with astonishment.
 
She shook her head again. Severus could see that she couldn’t quite grasp the urgency in their request. His heart fluttered. “I have never performed such a task on a child before.” The woman said faintly in a string of hushed whispered words.
 
Albus Dumbledore regarded the older woman with sympathy. “Then you must understand the urgency, Poppy.”
 
Poppy scowled at the headmaster. “Obliviate is such a powerful spell, Albus! Even grown men never recover from the aftershocks.” She raised her voice. “This is a one-year-old!”
 
 “We understand that. But the child is endangered, he’s lucky he’s even alive. You-know-who-"
 
The woman erupted. “Is gone!” She exclaimed coldly. “You told me so not only an hour ago!”
 
“Yes, but not forever,” Albus interjected, crossing his hands under his long beard. Severus smoothed his fingers on his son’s back, gazing at Potter as his baby slipped in and out of a restless nap.
 
 “Severus needs to resume his job, and he cannot do that while taking care of a baby, not to mention the chaos that will invoke once people realize that Harry is the savior of the wizarding world.”
 
 The matron scoffed sceptically. “Savior?” she asked the man as if he was insane. “Albus, you couldn’t mean what I think you mean.”
 
 “I’m afraid that there’s only one way to find out.”
 
 She sighed in resignation. “Are you absolutely sure about this, Albus? Isn’t there any way for me to contact a proper mind healer…”
 
 “No one that we trust, I’m afraid.” The old man gently settled back on his chair, his gaze sadly lingering on the confused child. “We need an extract of his memories, and then the procedure to…”
 
 Poppy straightened her back once again, and Severus stiffened. “You do realize that his memories might as well be nonexistent.” She told the headmaster as if she was talking to a child.
 
 The other men in the room looked at her blankly and she rolled her eyes. Glaring back at the old man. “He most probably hadn’t understood a thing.” She explained with pity. “His understandings are what form the memories in the first place, it’s not going to do much. He’s only a babe.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Albus said, nodding at Severus to stand. The man did so reluctantly, his heart hammering against his chest. Occlude, he ordered himself. Occlude your mind and keep the emotions at bay.
 
 “Well, I can’t do anything against their will. He obviously doesn’t want to give the child to…”
 
Showing the utter devastation on his face would alert Harry, and Severus hated unsettling his baby more than he already had. He occluded his mind.

 “Poppy,” He called the woman quietly, feeling the small bundle of warmth squirm against his chest. His heart broke.
 
 “Severus if you say no-”
 
 “I consent.” He interrupted her painful statement before he could change his mind. “I consent to the procedure on his behalf.”
 
They looked at each other, and he tried his best, in those very brief moments, to let her know that he had no real consent. He had no say. But this had to be done.

She nodded at him, albeit with great reluctance, “Very well…” she dropped her hands onto her skirt, her eyes filling up. “It would be best if you weren’t in the room Severus, to cause further complications.”
 
 “Dada?” Harry nudged his chest with his small hands, trying to get his attention. Severus ignored the call, mentally memorizing it as the last time the boy would ever call him that way.
 
 Poppy drew a chair to the middle of the room and darkened the lights with a quick wave of her wand, her movements were brisk and without a moment’s delay. She gestured at Potter to settle on the chair and then glanced at Severus.
 
 “Severus, I need you to leave now.” She softly stated, watching his strained knuckles go lax around Harry’s back. The man nodded as stoically as he could manage.
 
“I understand, Poppy.” He turned his back to the people in the office and held Harry up. His eyes dawdling on every soft feature to treasure and memorize for later. The others respectfully engaged Poppy in a conversation to keep the noise going and give the father and son some privacy. Severus took out his wand and cast a quick ‘Silencio’ around them. He needed this moment to be theirs.
 
A moment Harry was going to forget in less than five minutes.

“Harry, sweetheart…” he lowered the baby back to his chest, his head remaining under his chin. He breathed in the soft lavender smell of the fabric softener Lily must have used on Harry’s clothes and his eyes nearly watered.
 
 “Harry…Daddy needs to go away for a while.” He said as clearly as he could manage. Hoping that Harry could grasp the words and understand what he was about to say next.
 
 His son drew back, confused. “Dada?” he looked around the office, expecting his mother to collect him, seeing as Severus was leaving for ‘work’. This was how it usually went, because whenever Severus told him that he was ‘going away’, he was always coming back.

He didn’t know that his father wasn’t coming back. He had no idea. Which made it blissfully and selfishly easier on Severus.
 
The potion protégé inhaled deeply. “Yes. Daddy is going away…” he hung his head. “I’m sorry, Harry. I truly am.”
 
Harry whimpered at his discomfort and reached out to pat his cheek, the potion protégé smiled weakly. “These people, are going to take good care of you, sweetie, and I’ll be there, sometimes.” He swallowed, knowing that Harry was only understanding half of what he was saying. Maybe that was for the best, he thought grimly.
 
 “Mommy and I love you very much. She loved you so much that she…” he hesitated, his throat clogging. “That she gave her life for you. And I’m doing the same. We need you to be strong, to always stand your ground and take what is rightfully yours.”
 
He smoothed a hand over Harry’s soft hair. “We need you to live, no matter what, we need you to know that you are loved. I will always love you.” He felt a sudden prickle in his forearm and gasped. It didn’t necessarily hurt, but Severus knew exactly why it didn’t.
 
Another Death Eater—Lucius, most likely—was summoning the others. The heat and the pain were nowhere as severe as Voldemort’s summons but annoying enough to arouse suspicions.

Albus was right, there was going to be a bloodbath tonight. One he might not survive.
 
 He quickly placed a soft kiss on his son’s and held him close. One last time.
 
 He made it quick, diminished his own spell and walked over to Potter who was now settled on the chair and conferring with Black quietly. His messy hair mussed in all direction and his robes perfectly pristine on his lean body. He hated the man so much he couldn’t verbalize the intensity of that emotion, but deep down, he knew he was doing the right thing.
 
“Here, hold him like this.” He told Potter, holding out Harry with both hands. James’s eyebrows shot up but he quickly obliged, replacing Severus’s hands on the baby, James silently followed his hurried instructions and nervously clung to the squirming baby.
 
 “He’s moving too much,” Potter muttered nervously, his eyes blown wide at the prospect of holding a small human being in his arms and actually being responsible for it. Snape huffed, rolling his eyes.
 
“That’s why you’re supporting his back and neck, to make sure he doesn’t fall. Ask Poppy if you needed anything else, I left his list of things with your…” he glanced at the mutt. “With Black.” He finished.
 
 Harry squirmed in James’s wobbly embrace, complaining and making grabby hands at Severus.
 
 “Take care of him, Potter. I will be keeping an eye on you.” He and Albus exchanged a look, nodding as the young father slowly kneeled in front of the chair and took Harry’s hands. “Be good, Harry.”
 
 “We will guard him with our lives, Snape,” Potter promised, holding the baby firmly on his lap. Severus couldn’t bear the look anymore. They were running out of time. The prickling in his arm persisted as did Harry’s cries.
 
 The double agent turned and left without looking over his shoulder.