He was late.

He knew that he was.

All this time, he was afraid that he would have been too late regardless of his haste, but after all the hurrying, it was futile. There was no going against time.

His ragged breath whistled in the air and his robes hassled the greedy branches that cut into his vision, they were shredded among the sharp edges. The faster he ran, the more brutal the tears in his robes became, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t bring himself to; he just had to make sure.

The night was clear, not a single cloud in the sky. It was a beautiful night, a beautiful day, and he still wasn’t far enough to apparate from the borders. He wasn’t going to make it, and even if he was quick enough, there would be no point. He already knew that Lily was dead.

The odds were impossibly against her survival. But Severus hoped. He did. He really did.

He pushed his lungs into submission and ran the last few feet before falling to the ground, his legs giving away from sheer exhaustion; he had run all the way from Hogsmeade’s train station –just near the protective wards surrounding Hogwarts- to the headmaster’s office on the second floor, only to find the man gone. That was when he knew something was skew, and he just knew it was Lily.

Without a pause, he stormed the office and ran back into the halls. Frantically pushing through the barreling swarms of students and running out of the castle, it was right after dinner time, by his rough estimate, but honestly, it was all a blur.

His mind was reeling a hundred paces ahead of his running legs.

He thought of a hundred possibilities; should he send a Patronus? But that was too conspicuous, it would give them away, on the rare possibility, that the Dark Lord had no found them, and Lily and Harry were safe, hiding away.

Should he call authorities? Maybe Aurors?

Would it even matter? If the Dark Lord had found his family then it didn’t even matter if authorities were called. He was too fast, ferocious and without an ounce of clemency. If they were found, then they were dead without question.

The young man crawled out of the gate’s borders on shaky knees, his skin grazing on the harsh, cold cobblestones, as he tried to ignore the heartburn clawing at his chest. He got his wand out and shakily got back to his feet.

“Expecto…Expecto…” he couldn’t finish the incantation, flashes of Lily’s dead body and Harry’s glazed over green eyes, lying prone in his crib blurred his vision,

‘No,’ he chided himself, ‘No, don’t be like that, Severus. Don’t be fucking like that,’

He didn’t know if they were dead. Not yet. He had to do this.

Severus took a deep breath. It took everything out of him, not to collapse on the spot and weep for someone to come and save him, save them.

But then he thought of his wife, waltzing around their living room with Harry in her arms, singing and laughing as their demented cat trotted between her feet. Severus remembered Harry’s shrill giggles and Lily’s glinting eyes.

He couldn’t leave that to chance.

“Expecto Patronum,” He whizzed out, perhaps for the last time in his life, flicking his wrist, and a flickering raven burst out of his wand, hysterically flapping its non-corporal wings.

“Lily,” Severus called out. “Don’t stay in the house, something’s wrong. My arm…there’s something wrong with the mark. Take Harry. Just go. Don’t waste time taking anything else, leave the files… Just take our son and leave.”

The raven disappeared and Severus only managed to take a few steps, readying himself for apparition before a searing pain tore through his forearm. Everything went black for half a second, maybe too long. Or maybe not nearly enough time for Severus to catch his breath.

The pain throbbed in a way that the young man believed there wouldn’t be any arm left if it kept on burning; it went deep down to his bones and scalded the skin of his forearm.

But the pain that went straight to his heart was one of another kind; the burn of his dark mark was the burn of victory, one of acclaim. The dark lord was euphoric, gleeful, and victorious. The pain that the young potion master felt was of utter misery and grief.

It was too late.

Severus didn’t dare waste another second; he could care less about killing himself by leaving half of his body behind or losing a limb. He closed his eyes, envisioned their hiding place in Godric’s Hollow and apparated without a second thought.

Spirals of smoke engulfed the green skull in the sky, enhancing nausea and the blurring in his eyes. Severus didn’t know how, but somehow he was already racing into the rubbles that littered the front of their ruined house.

With throbbing hands, he tore his way into the cottage, ignoring the smell of burnt flesh that hung around the living room and their dead cat, Charlie, collapsed under rubbles, their fallen roof. He already knew that the cat was the source of the abhorrent smell and felt disgustedly relieved. With a sense of doom, the potion master stumbled to the stairs, holding on to the walls for support.

Shattered glasses, from the broken picture frames, crunched under his feet and dug into his torn black robes, firmly embedded in his boots. Wood splinters from the plasters on the wall and the roof were sprinkled down on the last few steps to the second floor.

It was as if a hurricane had formed right inside their home.

Severus numbly dragged himself up the stairs, a loud whimper caught prisoner in his bulged throat; he wanted to scream in anguish, to tear his skin into ribbons, gauge his own eyes out just so he won’t have to see his wife dead on the ground.

Lily. His perfect Lily. His wife. His best friend. The mother of his child, Lily.

She was partially jammed under the roof, debris and large bricks piled upon her lower back, leaving only her upper body visible. Severus saw her hands, outstretched towards the nursery’s door, her green eyes were glazed over and frozen in their widened state, her mouth pruned.

Severus finally let out an anguished cry, falling to his knees next to the woman he loved and delicately moved the debris from her back, carelessly throwing them around, not mindful of the grime gathering under his desperate fingernails.

There was no question that she was gone, and Severus feared that he already knew that, even while sending that Patronus, or even as soon as he saw Albus’s office deserted and harried.

The sweet aroma of her perfume engulfed all his sense as he embraced the cold motionless body of his first and last love, gently rocking them both back and forth, utterly consumed with grief.

He almost didn’t hear it at first, but his early sleepless nights as a parent had accustomed all of his senses to his child, so much so, that Severus didn’t have to hear the quiet sniffle a second time to bolt out of his place in a panic.

He warily repositioned his dead wife back on the ground and frantically crawled to the nursery. He budged the ruined door and unhinged the door frames with his hands before the mangled door finally broke down.

He had completely forgotten Harry the moment he saw Lily’s body.

The possibility that his baby was trapped in here for merlin knew how long, scared and alone, only added to the unimaginable guilt and expanded the hole gaping his chest.

Debris covered the ground and the roof was partially destroyed, but the crib and the area surrendering it was suspiciously clear of any rubble. Harry sat petrified, in the middle of the wooden crib, one thumb crammed in his mouth and the other clutching the bars on his crib. His forehead was bleeding and his eyes were glazed over with tears.

Harry was by no means a quiet child, but he made no sound or indication of seeing him after Severus forcefully entered the small nursery room.

“Oh, Harry,” Severus muttered, almost falling over as he raced over to his son. He gently reached down and tried to pick the boy as slowly as he could manage with his hands shaking, wrecked with grief and anxiety.

Harry wouldn’t let go of the bar, kept whimpering as his father persisted. “Come on now,” the man pleaded. “It’s over, alright?” another sniffle replied his begging and Severus was too exhausted to try arguing with his traumatized one-year-old. He wanted to just sit by the crib and cry with him.

He crouched down next to the crib and reached over for Harry’s face, attempting to clean the dried blood to take a good look at the head wound. The child’s face crumpled the moment Snape’s hand was close, and the moment his hand touched the baby’s face, Harry started sobbing in earnest.

Severus panicked and stood. “Shh…Shh, Harry. I know baby, I know.” He picked him up and cradled the small child to his chest, hushing him and swaying in hopes to calm the hysterical cries.

Harry’s cries didn’t die down no matter what he did. He paced around the nursery for what seemed like ages, even cried alongside the child on the ground for longer than that, and rocked them both back and forth the way Lily would have done.

Nothing was working, Harry wasn’t using his words, he wasn’t calling for Lily, didn’t even call Severus’s name the way he normally would have.

It broke Severus’s heart, to see how frightened Harry was; the child must have seen something to be so terrified. Maybe he had heard Lily’s screams in the hallway. It didn’t look like anyone had broken into the nursery as the door was jammed shut from the commotion that was caused outside, but at this point, Severus couldn’t rule anything out.

Harry’s fingers closed around the front of his robes in a small fist, and his face was buried in Severus’s neck, the child wasn’t going to stop soon, but Severus knew he didn’t have much time left.

If Harry was alive, then they were going to come back for him, the dark mark never left a victim behind, they were going to come back for Harry and Severus couldn’t spare any more time than he already had.

He tenderly reached out and manoeuvred the child in front of him, making him sniffle in distress.

“Daddy needs to look at that, alright sweetie?” Severus muttered softly, caressing Harry’s hair with numb fingers.

“Dada.” The baby croaked out, his face breaking as a small pathetic sob escaped his pouted lips.

“Shh, it’s okay now, Daddy’s here, hmm?” Severus brushed Harry’s blood-caked hair out of his forehead and fished out his wand. Harry flailed upon seeing the object and started crying again. Snape warily threw the wand at the other side of the room, pressing Harry’s face back into his neck.

“Alright, no wand. No magic.”

Harry was afraid of wands. Or of Magic. The revelation only brought on more horror, piling on the dense ball of emotions trapped in Severus’ chest.

Did he know how Lily had died? Had he seen it happen from his nursery? Did someone enter the room after all?

“Harry, use your words baby.” He asked miserably.

The child didn’t respond and Severus was dangerously close to losing it. He didn’t know how to do this without Lily, with her dead body only a room away, with his son somehow injured and too traumatized to even properly cry.

They needed to get out of here, and fast. But Lily was dead and everything felt wrong.

The potion master needed to find Dumbledore and tell him what happened, but had no idea what to do with his wife. He couldn’t just leave her here, and he couldn’t apparate with both her body and their child.

Snape cursed himself and stayed there, swaying on the floor with his son, both crying silently until Harry’s breathing slowed in exhaustion. Severus closed his eyes; this was the first time their son had cried himself to sleep.

Suddenly there was a crash from downstairs, jolting Severus to his feet. The man dodged to find his wand in the rubbles, his heart beating so fast that it was a wonder Harry remained asleep in his arms.

The sounds continued ascending into the staircase, and Severus closed his eyes; they were here for Harry, he couldn’t apparate out in the nursery and he couldn’t fight with a sleeping child in his arms.

He unclasped his robe with one skilled hand and quickly draped the long fabric over Harry’s face and small body, wrapping him while guarding the hallway with his wand.

The child sniffled quietly but didn’t wake. Feeling relief flood in his blood, Severus set the sleeping bundle of robes under the crib, hoping to delay the intruders if they were searching for Harry, and effectively blocking Harry’s face so the child wouldn’t be forced to witness Severus’s death too.

Just as the heavy-footed intruder reached the second floor, did the potion master abandon the child and darted behind the ruined door.

The intruder crashed into the floor and let out a very familiar wail, surprising Severus. Snape swallowed, perking his ears to confirm his suspicions before peeking a glance from the side of the wall.

It was Hagrid. He thought numbly upon seeing the wailing giant, who was cradling his wife. A sudden wave of relief and despair washed over him as he stepped out of his hiding place, his wand still in hand just in case.

“Hagrid.” He called the man, approaching him with caution.

The giant leapt back violently, his pale face hidden behind a wild mane of beard and tracked with colossal tears.

“Se’eus?” the man sniffed in disbelief, his hand still holding Lily’s shoulder. The younger man swallowed his grief and nodded.

“Yes.” He choked out.

Hagrid wiped his face with the sleeve of his threadbare jacket. “I’m so so’ry Se’eus but I’ have to make s-s-s-sure.” The giant stammered.

Severus felt a hot coiling knife stab him in the guts as he nodded. “Of course, Hagrid.” He pulled his wand on his wrist.

“Severus Tobias Snape, the code name is Corax.” His voice broke. “This is my house.”

Hagrid nodded tearfully, looking thoroughly uncomfortable. “Rub’us Hagrid, code name I’ Optio.”

Severus sagged against the wall, staring blankly as Hagrid gently lowered his wife back on the ground and brushed her eyes close, dampening her pale, grey face with tears.

“Har’y? Is he…?” Hagrid choked at the mere thought. Severus only hesitated for a moment before feverishly shaking his head.

“He’s sleeping. They left him alive. The door was jammed from the outside, so I don’t think anyone got in with him, but he’s still injured… his forehead was cut.”

That was all he was capable of. Clinical descriptions. Because if he let himself simmer in the words and what they truly implicated, then he would crumple down and never get up again.

“How did he…?” Hagrid didn’t finish his question, upon seeing Severus’ face.

He was too distraught to question the injury and how his baby got hurt, a pulsing headache pounded in his head and the anxiety was building up as each second passed by. Like a powder keg about to explode, Severus was nearing his end.

“We need to get out of here.” He told the giant, reclining his body to cover Harry’s room from view. He was feeling oddly protective and distrustful of the man; all he wanted was some respite.

A small, muffled wail rose from the nursery and Severus rushed in to get Harry out of his robes, Hagrid stood to watch from the door. Severus continuously muttered apologies as he cradled the small child to his chest, knowing that he had frightened Harry. The splotchy-faced baby trashed in his arms and shrugged the long and heavy robe away from himself.

“Dada!” the boy sobbed.

Severus muttered, “I know, I know,” but he didn’t. He knew nothing. Of what happened and what will and how in the world was he supposed to go on without Lily?

“We nee’ to get ou’ of here’ Se’eus.” The man stated quietly behind them as the wailing got louder. Severus nodded, swaying and pacing around the room, pushing Harry’s face in his shoulder so the child wouldn’t see Lily’s body.

Hagrid didn’t move from his spot and wrung his rough hands together. “I’m so so’ry to ask Sev but… I work for Dumbledo’e… we nee’ the files.”

Severus’ hand went lax on the baby’s head and Harry whimpered when Hagrid was the first person he saw as he turned his face away, his tiny hands curling into Severus’s shirt and his lips quivering as if he was afraid Hagrid was going to take Severus away from him too.

The potion master nodded carefully, settling Harry on his chest before fully turning to face the older man.

“They’re in our room.” He said quietly, gazing at his wife.

Hagrid took off to the end of the hall, exposing Lily both to Harry and his father. Harry’s crying started anew when he saw Lily and Severus cursed himself for not covering the child’s head again.

Harry called for his mother time after time, his voice more shrill with each failed attempt. The scene was so heartbreaking and unbearable for the young father that he carelessly strode out of the room and swept past his wife without a second glance.

Their room was positioned close to the nursery but was a vast disappointment to their master bedroom in their own house. This place was just a transitory safe house. Just for a while. It was never meant to last, minimal effort was put into furnishing it.
How naïve were they, for thinking that this was temporary?

Severus hated every inch of this wretched place, and he always found it easy, to express that hatred when his wife wasn’t around. Because the truth was, no matter how much he complained about the small, frugal cottage, it didn’t stop Lily from loving it.

It was small, warded. It was discreet and it was more than secure for holding the Order’s mission details and operation files. Along with his family. They were bargaining chips.

It always pained Severus, how their worth was tantamount to a bunch of papers. But he didn’t have a say in it.

Lily was one of the very few trusted people that had access to those files and that was most likely the reason for this ambush in the first place, maybe they hadn’t come for his son as Severus originally thought and they just needed the files.

That would explain the Dark Lord’s absence, even though it made no other sense. The attack was supposed to be carried out by him , Severus knew so.

Voldemort wouldn’t endanger himself for operation files, no. He came here for Harry.

Hagrid thwarted all his meagre theories by stepping out of their room with a stack of parchment hustled in his arms.

“I go’ the’ all.” The giant murmured sadly and Severus nodded.

Severus only paused long enough to take Harry’s diaper bag and a few of his toys before they took off the house, with Lily in Hagrid’s arms, and Harry buried inside Severus’s outer robes, only exposed enough to breathe properly and not catch sight of his mother.

As soon as they reached Godric’s Hollow’s graveyard, both men apparated without sparing a glance back at the dark mark, and what it stood for. The muggle repelling charm would wear off any moment now and the place would be swarming with neighbours before order members could arrive.

Chaos ensues in a place that was already wrecked with chaos. It was too ironic to be funny. Too acrid and cruel.

Severus thought of nothing as his feet touched the ground.

He had mastered that art months ago. Thinking about nothing, or rather, thinking about everything and stashing the unwanted ones in the back of his mind, away from seeking eyes, and his own.

He ignored Harry’s discomfort from the apparation, knowing that it was harmless and too trivial to waste time over, and quickly walked ahead of Hagrid. He couldn’t bear to walk beside him, with his wife cradled like that. Not breathing. Not moving. Never singing or kissing or dancing.

Albus was bound to be back in his office by now if he’d sent Hagrid for the Order documents.
Severus needed answers, and Albus needed to have them.

His wife was dead . His son was traumatized , and Severus didn’t even know why. Well, he did know, his mother had just been murdered barely a room away from him. What Severus didn’t know wasn’t the reason why his son was traumatized.

It was whether Harry truly understood what that meant.

How does an infant register and process death, in his mind?

“Chocolate Frog.” Hagrid croaked out from behind and Severus rushed up the stairs, his heart beating as if it was trying to escape his chest.

Dumbledore’s circular and previously vacant office was now filled with three other people aside from the headmaster himself; James Potter and his partner Sirius Black were seated in the comfy chairs facing the headmaster, whilst their werewolf best friend stood next to the fireplace. Six pair of red-rimmed eyes fell upon Severus as he entered.

Severus’s eyes shadowed as he caught the men looking and he stared directly at the old man who was staring out of his window.

“What are they doing here?” he asked tiredly, his arms tightening around his sniffling son.

Albus unclasped his hands from his back and avoided his gaze. His eyes were knowing, but of course, they were. He always knew everything.

“I’m so sorry Severus,” the old man muttered sadly.

Severus could hardly contain his growl. “Sorry?” he hissed in disdain. “My wife is dead,” and he knew , Severus knew that Albus knew, because he always did, “You promised protection and she’s dead.”

Hagrid stood not far behind them, shuffling on his feet, with Lily still in his arms, and Severus spared a moment to throw him a hateful glare.

This was not supposed to happen. It was all wrong.

“Take her body to the infirmary, Hagrid,” Remus interjected softly, guiding the giant to the fireplace. Severus turned his body away and hunched over Harry’s head, blocking his view.

He would grieve alone later, right now; he needed to be strong for his child.

“How did she die?” James Potter asked, mournfully watching his friend’s body disappear in green flames.

“How do you think?” Severus spat.

Black’s face, hardened at the potion master and he gripped James’s hand tightly with both hands.

“How did you know, Severus?” Albus inquired quietly, gesturing at a chair. Severus wanted to sag against the comfortable-looking armchair so badly but paced forward mostly for his son’s sake instead.

Harry was still whimpering after an hour of constant agony and Snape feared for his son’s health.

“My forearm.” It was strangely numb with no sign of pain now, the man thought. “He was happy, you were gone, and I was excluded from the last meeting… I got there too late.”

Albus dropped his head, “We found out mere minutes before you did. The spell was breached but we couldn’t figure out which safe house was under attack. We chose the Longbottoms and we are so sorry, Severus.”

They chose them over his family. No amount of apologies would ever fix something like that. Not now that Lily was gone, and Harry was sobbing in his arms. Not now that everything was wrong.

Severus knew how irrational it was, but he abhorred the Longbottoms, he abhorred kind, sweet Alice and his dutiful husband and their son. He hated them because they were a choice, and Severus’ family wasn’t.

“They have Peter in custody now. We’re so sorry, Severus; we thought… we never would have thought that Peter could ever…” Remus shook his head, unable to continue.

It all meant nothing, to Severus.

“The details of the attack are hazy, my boy, but we’ll have one of the members come with the information in a few hours. I have already heard the rumours. I need you to roll your sleeve up.”

Snape’s heart sank as Remus held his arms out for Harry. The potion master pointedly ignored the offer and stared at the headmaster with confusion.

“What rumours, Albus?”

“I cannot know for sure before our informant arrives, Severus.” the old man replied.

“Roll up your sleeve, my boy.” Black and Potter exchanged an unsure glance while Remus stared fixedly at Harry’s forehead with a frown.

His son obediently settled on his lap, with the potion master supporting him with one arm and rolling up his sleeve with the other, he rolled up a bit of fabric and frowned when his skin didn’t fade into black.

He rolled it up further and then noticed the faint outline of his dark mark in utter shock.

“What does this mean?” he asked faintly, feeling black spots blur his vision. His hold tightened on his child.

Albus stayed silent for a long time, while Black and Lupin spoke in hushed voices near the seats. James’s eyes were solely set on Harry, darting back and forth between his unblemished forearm and his son behind his gold-rimmed glasses.

“He’s not dead, Severus. We are sure of that. However, there seems to be an uprising among Death Eater ranks. I think,” the old man stared at James and then back at him. “That the dark lord is gone. At least temporarily, he was the one to ambush Harry and Lily, Severus. There is simply no other explanation.”

Severus’s body tensed and his breath hitched. “Harry wasn’t attacked. He was in his nursery.” Voldemort wouldn’t have let a jammed door stand in his way if he was that determined to kill his son. But he did. It made no sense.

Nothing made sense.

“He’s injured,” Remus, pointed out with concern, approaching the child with his wand. “I could take a look…” his son swung himself back into Severus’s arms as he saw the wand in Lupin’s hands, crying. Shrieking really.

Severus had never seen Harry behave like this.

“Get away from him,” Surprisingly; it’s not Snape who said that but James Potter, holding his hand out in warning to his friend, while his gaze was intently on the child.

Lupin quickly pocketed his wand and backed away, whilst Sirius watched the interaction with confusion.

“James…” he muttered, looking at his partner.

“It’s a curse scar, Sirius.” The young man told his partner. “I see the dark halo around his head. He was attacked, Snape.” He said the last part to his supposed enemy, his eyes filled with pity.

“There was no one in the room with my son, Potter.” Severus gritted out.

Potter didn’t flinch, shaking his head. “I see it,” he insisted. “The scar on his face, whatever it is, is cursed.” Harry whimpered as he felt all of the eyes on him, he hid his face in Snape’s shirt and whimpered again.

The others frowned sadly at the child’s heartbreaking state, Albus eventually turned to face the messy-haired man. “Are you sure, James?”

Potter pushed his glasses up his nose with his middle finger. “I’m always sure when it comes to these things.” He said, sinking back down on his chair. “Just as I’m sure that, the dark mark on Severus’s forearm is subdued, but not gone. We need to have that scar examined.”

“He’s afraid of wands; I don’t have access to my potions.” Severus apprehensively explained to the headmaster.

“That could be taken care of, my boy. Tipsy?”

“Headmaster sir?”

“Fetch a mild calming draught from Professor Slughorn’s labs, please. We will fix the dosage here.”

“Do I let Professor Slughorn know, sir?” the uneasy elf asked, wringing the hem of its towel with gnarled fingers.

The headmaster smiled kindly at the house-elf and shook his head. “No, I don’t believe that is necessary,”

The house-elf disappeared without a sound and the office fell into a grim silence. Severus felt Harry squirming in his arms, quietly whining and making known his displeasure with the world in its screwed up state.

He knew that Harry must have been hungry and the mere thought of Harry not daring to tell him that, sent his mind in downward spirals.

Harry was such a verbose child, he talked about everything and anything. He used words that baffled Severus, and when he couldn’t find a word to suit his ramblings? He just made up. Severus vividly recalled, one leisurely afternoon spent, with Harry toddling over to him, and yanking on his sleeve.

“Yum yum?” he had said, rubbing on his tummy. And Severus had smiled, exchanging an amused glance with Lily before scooping the child up in his arms.

“Yum yum coming up for Harry,”

Lily was busy with her papers, her brows frowned in concentration, “And an orange for Mommy?”

“What do you think, Harry? Orange for Mommy?”

Harry silence, compared to that day, that moment, was disturbing.

Severus swallowed the bile in his throat and glanced down at his child.

Did he even pack a bottle in the bag? Severus tapped his robe pockets whilst inwardly panicking. What if he couldn’t find a bottle? He couldn’t just let the child go hungry, and Lily wasn’t here and there was no milk and Lily was dead, and the fussing was getting worse…

In full panicking mode, the young father hastily took out the diaper bag, enlarged it with a quick wave of his wand and started rummaging in hopes to find a bottle, as Harry’s snivelling got more pronounced.

Suddenly a waving hand shot into his vision and Severus straightened himself.

“Are you alright there Snape?” Lupin asked cautiously, one of his hands hovering behind Harry in case Severus dropped the child.

Narrowing his eyes in anger, the potion protégé wrapped both arms around his son. “Yes, Lupin,” he replied coldly. “Your help is not required.”

The man held out a vial in front of him and Snape wrenched it from his hand with a malicious glare.

He continued his search for the bottle with more decorum when he felt the others closely ogle him and Harry. No one spoke, no one dared to break the fragile ribbon of silence that swirled and floated in the office, in fears of unleashing the great elephant in the room.

Severus was secretly glad, between everything that had happened and had yet to take place, he was only a whisper away from a mental breakdown.

He almost cried in relief when his hand closed around one of Harry’s spare bottles. The blue bottle sloshed as he drew it out of the bag, and Severus was yet again alleviated to find it filled with milk. He didn’t think he could maintain himself if this went wrong too.

After hastily reheating the bottle with his wand and adding the mild calming draught to the mix, Severus tried to detach Harry’s face from his shirt. This was too awkward, being in an office, right after the death of his wife, feeding his infant son.

It was almost hysterical, and Severus could have laughed. But he didn’t. He didn’t like his chances of seeming sane if he just burst into manic giggles at random.

He nudged Harry’s face, gently with the bottle, but as if feeling the same awkwardness hang around the office, Harry blatantly refused the bottle and threw a teary-eyed stare at his father in betrayal before burying his face back in the blasted shirt.

“Come on, please.” He softly placed the bottle into Harry’s hands and then brought it to his mouth, but the child refused every time.

Severus knew his son was hungry, he could physically feel Harry’s hunger from the way his son slouched his body on Severus’s but had no idea why the baby wasn’t eating.

“The snitch is here,” Albus informed the group solemnly, seconds before the floo flared and a young man stepped out.

He was covered in black from head to toe, so much so that even Severus was a little taken back. Even his face was covered; his eyes were glamoured and seemed to be a different colour every time someone attempted to look closely.

Albus nodded at the young man, and he stepped forward, handing him a small piece of parchment. Harry peered at the mysterious man, or woman (Severus couldn’t tell), he obediently took the bottle this time when Severus offered. He was too enthralled by the mysterious figure.

The old man’s eyes skimmed over the words hastily written on the parchment. “Are you sure?”

The snitch needn’t nod; Sirius stood and strode over to Albus’s side, reading over the old man’s shoulder with a blank face.

“This isn’t good news, Albus,” Black murmured, scratching at his grazed jaw, he huffed and shared another glance with his partner across the room.

“Indeed it isn’t.”

Albus looked up at the snitch. “Thank you, you are allowed to leave now.” The snitch nodded his farewell and disappeared in the flames.

“What does it say?” Severus asked. He titled the bottle as the urge to draw Harry closer amplified. An earth-rattling shiver went down his spine as Sirius shook his head and Albus sighed. James Potter drew to the edge of his seat, nervously eyeing the shift of magic crackling in the air and Remus’s shoulders hunched defensively.

“There was a coup within the Death Eater rings over leadership.” The headmaster heavily announced, putting his face in his hands. “Lucius won.”

It felt like the end of the world.
 
Every puzzle piece that once put the misery corners of his life together was blown out of proportion, each was vaporized and destroyed, just in a matter of hours. 
 
His lovely wife and only friend in the world was dead; his son was somehow cursed and Lucius—of all people—had managed to take over the ranks. Things really could not get any worse than this.
 
He knew Lucius since they were all but children; he was two years ahead of Severus, a high and all mighty pureblood. Lucius, even at the tender age of thirteen, lived up to his family’s name with a grace that even baffled the staff. He was cruel beyond any definition of measurement, even heartless sometimes. 
 
Disdain, superiority and arrogance dribbled down from the very way he held himself at all times.
 
Those mannerisms and the fact that everyone did very little to restrain the Slytherin Prince, fascinated Severus to no end, and Lucius for his part, seemed overly glad to play around with an eleven-year-old and manipulate him to his own needs.
 
Looking back on it, made Severus twist in shame. His naïve past self, just trotting after a sociopath, in a damned quest to take after anyone who paid him the slightest bit of attention. 
 
The aristocrat prat held a very personal grudge against other houses and muggleborns that attended the school. Obviously, he did. It was the way he was raised, the way his father and grandfather and predecessors were brought up. Just one generation after the other, reeking of prejudice.  
 
The details of his past were rather hasty, his interactions with Lucius in his youth, even more so, but Severus remembered a time when the boy managed to convince his goons and younger naïve students to cruelly prank and bully those of ‘lower status and then blackmail them to earn favours.
 
He particularly recalled the way they tormented Hufflepuffs. It was vile, the things they did, the things Lucius ordered them to do. No ordinary human being was capable of that degree of viciousness. 
 
So it was no surprise when Severus heard the rumours of Lucius finally joining the ranks flying around, mere days before his graduation. Those rumours soon became old news when Severus was a seventh year and in ‘The Assessment’ himself.
 
The Dark Lord didn’t just recruit anyone and didn’t donate dark marks to his liking; lower-ranked death eaters often took over those who wanted to join and placed them in The Assessment. To see if they had it in them to kill, torture and serve their lord to the best of their abilities.
 
Those who made it and got the mark but then wanted out were neatly plucked out of their positions and quietly killed. Those who didn’t make the cut were also somehow dealt with, and the rest were scavenging to yank themselves up in their Lord’s good graces.
 
 Lucius, due to his popularity, charm, and standing in the wizarding world, quickly groomed himself into the higher ranks, whilst Severus was still in school. When the time finally arrived Lucius was the one, who took over Severus’s assessment.
 
Severus was half done with the process, soon after graduating Hogwarts, when suddenly terror and qualm gripped his heart…Lily had returned to him, with apologies and a love confession.
 
 After two years of silence, the girl of his dreams floated back into his life again and everything fell into perspective.
 
Like a heavy pendulum knocking him down, Severus realized with a jolt, that he was becoming part of a cult. It was so easy to easy, and yet so difficult, in that period of his life. Where his abusive prick of a father was freshly deceased, and Severus more alone than ever. 
 
But Lily was back, she was back and he wasn’t alone. His mind came together, like splinters of a broken cup and the world started making sense again. 
 
It didn’t take him long to move their friendship to the next level. It was something they both wanted, for such a long time. Something, that Lily much later admitted she hadn’t discovered by herself. 
 
‘It wasn’t all James, but he told me something, Sev,’ She had whispered into his ear, in a distant past where they both leaning against an old, barren tree, frozen to their boots, but unwilling to move. 
 
‘What did he say?’ 
 
He wasn’t all that favourable to know at the time. He hated Potter’s guts. His and his gang’s. 
 
Lily kissed him on the cheek, ‘I’ll tell you when the time is right. They’re words that need to be savoured.’
 
Severus believed her, not because he was particularly aware of Potter’s wisdom when it came to matters of the heart, but because he knew her, and trusted her beyond any measure. 
 
They became a couple, the whole thing was really under wraps. 
 
They didn’t tell anyone that they dated; Severus couldn’t bear the thought of her ever getting hurt for his foolishness. And in his current predicament, he couldn’t just waltz around, mentioning that he was seeing a muggle-born. 
 
It was tragic, but it didn’t matter in those days. 
 
His best friend was suddenly his lover, she wanted him, and Severus had never felt like he could be happier with her in his life, the way he desired it to be from the start.
 
It was too late to get out of the assessment. 
 
Severus didn’t want anyone hurting the girl he dearly loved and adored, and so he deliberately bailed on each and every one of their ‘tests’. Alas, Lucius was adamant that Severus had it in him and sent him up to receive the mark with flying colours instead of ‘taking care of him.’ and ditching his body in a gutter.
 
He didn’t want to tell her, about the whole morbid ritual and the tests and all the torturing, but once he had a date, an actual appointment to receive his mark, he had no other choice. He couldn’t hide it from Lily even if he wanted to. She knew him so much that she might as well have lived inside him. 
 
 She was devastated by the news, but of course, she was.
 
‘Severus, you cannot do this!’ she was trying her hardest to maintain posture and not start crying. Lily seldom cried, it just wasn’t like her to break down and let her tears take command, but Severus did. Severus wept in her arms that night after he got back to their house with the dark mark.
 
It was a frightening thing, for reality to take hold after living in a dream-driven fantasy for so long. He had to get the mark. He had to become a Death Eater. He couldn’t possibly endanger Lily by dragging her into all this. 
 
He would have resented himself for the rest of his life if something happened to her because of him. Or if anything happened in regardless. It sounded illogical, they were in a war, their chances of survival was deep down in the negatives. Yet, the feeling persisted. 
 
He didn’t weep for himself. He wept for her, and what he had done to her. 
 
She, along with the marauders have newly joined order members at the time, and Lily did not hesitate to take him to Dumbledore after he was coherent enough to talk. She hauled him up, dragged him into the man’s office, and fell to her knees.
 
She begged him to find a solution—against Severus’ vehement protests—, but no matter what, the old man could only come up with one suggestion.
 
 “You already have the mark Severus. It will be absolute,” the man declared sadly. “I know it seems cruel, but we have to make the best of it.”
 
 Now, Severus wished that he hadn’t agreed and was dead instead. It would have been kinder, to him and Lily both. She was the reason he accepted the job in the first place, the reason why he didn’t end it all instead of bowing down for the mark. 
 
It all seemed like the distant past now, instead of only a few short years ago. 
 
And now, just like that night, the truth, however sordid, was that he knew exactly what the news meant; Lucius taking over the ranks, meaning that the war wasn’t even slightly close to its end. 
 
Severus couldn’t stay and grieve, he couldn’t return to his mother’s mansion. He couldn’t keep Harry single-handedly.
 
“Severus.”
 
 His breath hitched in his throat. “I cannot,” he knew what Albus was going to say, he knew it down to the very fucking dot, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t accept it. Not this time, “Not anymore, Albus. Harry needs me. Lily is dead. I cannot just…”
 
 Albus’s knowing eyes sadly lingered on Severus’s shaking hand that was supporting the bottle.
 
“You are not abandoning him, Severus,” he said, his eyes landing on James and Sirius’ shadowed eyes and hung heads. Snape immediately felt a stab of betrayal. 
 
They knew of the possibility, he realized numbly. That’s why they were there. 
 
They were going to take his son.
 
 Lily's son.
 
It was all pre-arranged. This entire game. 
 
 “Absolutely not.” the man gritted out, barely containing his rage, but not as a way to assert self-control. No, containing his rage was merely a way to inhibit the exhaustion taking over every bone in his body. Rage would make him explode and then deflate. 
 
Harry went stiff in his arms immediately as the bottle started shaking along with his father’s hand. The last droplets of milk gathered and dripped down his chin.
 
 Remus, from the other side of the office, put his hands up in the universal gesture of peace, to assuage the wild-mannered man. That’s what they thought of him, wild-mannered. It was quite ironic. 
 
“Severus…”
 No. No, Severus closed his eyes and his name kept being called on a loop with no respite. 
 
“Severus, just listen for a moment—” 
 
“Shut up, just shut up, wolf!” he screamed, or maybe didn’t. he wasn’t sure. But Harry cried. It wasn’t a full-fledged cry, it was a new one, Severus hadn’t heard of it before this very moment. It was a frightened call. 
 
Severus held the child closer, then very deliberately, he turned his face back to the headmaster.
 
He slowly got to his feet, holding Albus’ gaze, and daring him to invade his mind, daring him to see every miserable image haunting Severus’ mind; at the very front, where they took residence at this moment. 
 
The baby kept whimpering quietly in his arms, as he strode to his mentor, “You want me to leave my child,” he hissed, reeling. “With the two people who tormented me all my life?” he gritted out the rest, feeling the anger and irrationality pump through his veins. 
 
There was no amount of logic in the world to justify this. There wasn’t. These people, these men terrorized a considerable portion of his childhood, at least two of them attempted to actually kill Severus on one occasion. The other, absent one was the fucking traitor who gave it all away. He was the reason his wife was dead. 
 
Choices. That’s what this whole bloody game was about. The choice to make Pettigrew the secret keeper, the choice to storm Frank and Alice’s house when made aware of a possible attack, the choice to just auction off Severus’s child in his absence, a mere hour after his wife’s death.
 
“Albus you are out of your mind if you think that I’ll agree to this.”
 
 Dumbledore looked thoroughly disturbed but adamant about his decision. As if it was his to make. Severus fumed, because it was not his decision, it was his choice. There was a difference. And Severus was helpless in the face of both. He knew that. 
 
 “Severus, you cannot keep your position as a double agent and still keep Harry.” The old man argued back, still staring right into his eyes with a knowing look. “Lily… she won’t be here to take care of the child.”
 
 The grieving man didn’t hesitate. He knew he didn’t have much, not much ground, not much to defend, and that’s why there was no reason for hesitation. He needed to use this momentum, “Then I won’t.” he snarled. “I won’t work for you anymore.”
 
Those words, whilst never ringing true, were the most liberating he’d spoken in years. 
 
“Severus please…” 
Harry cried again, Snape paused. It was another different cry, frightened and shrill and demanding. It all made him stop; what the hell was he doing? How could he ever do this without Lily? 
 
Severus cleared his throat, cradling the child back to his chest, and looking into his green eyes. Lily’s eyes. 
 
He grounded his jaw with a sharp snap.
 
 “Have you ever considered that you ask too much from me?” he seethed quietly, still looking down at Harry, making sure that he knew that Severus wasn’t the one to be frightened of. “That you take too much for granted?” he looked up at the headmaster at last. The silence was overbearing. 
 
 “Severus-”
 
 Severus shook his head. “Has it ever crossed your brilliant mind that I don’t want to do this anymore?”
 
 “You have no other choice.” Albus countered back sternly, pointedly looking at his arms.
 
 Severus felt an inevitable chill tingle down his spine at the stare. He felt the hatred and discrimination the way he felt the hot scorching air around the office. Potter and Black hung awkwardly in the back and Lupin had his back turned to all of them, facing the fireplace.
 
He realized as the room grew cold with the lack of sympathy, and he was singled out in the middle of the office, that Albus was right. He didn’t have a choice . 
 
He deserved no pity, he was a Death Eater. And he had a job. No one was willing to defend him if it meant losing another valuable informant. An asset. There was no choice for him to begin with.
 
The only person who remotely cared about his opinions was lying cold, unmoving and quite dead in the infirmary.
 
Severus had tried to redeem himself, to ignore the remaining stains and the filth of his own mistakes. He got married, had a child whom he loved more than life itself, but they didn’t care. They only cared that he got back to his job while someone took care of the kid . 
 
The kid who survived. The kid who ‘defeated’ the Dark Lord. 
 
Harry wasn’t anyone to these people, he wasn’t their life and death and the reason they breathed rightly. He was just The Kid.
 
Severus knew with certainty that if Harry hadn’t been involved in the Dark Lord’s demise, Albus wouldn’t have even cared this much. They would have tossed him in an orphanage and forced Severus back to his post.
 
But was that worse, or better?
 
He sunk down in a chair.
 
James Potter was the first to break the tense silence. “Snape,” he called, taking a step towards them. He looked fatigued, but he always seemed as such when Severus caught sight of his. Fatigued and small and unworthy. 
 
Severus couldn’t quite believe he was bullied by this man. He looked so unthreatening, it was revolting. This very same man was the reason why Lily broke all ties with him for two years. 
 
But was he? 
 
“If it makes any difference,” Potter said, “we will raise… Harry, as if he’s our own,” he nodded at his partner and then back at the child in his enemy’s arms. “He’s Lily’s son, Lily was one of my best friends and—”
 
 Severus narrowed his eyes, his mouth working faster than his reeling mind, “And I’m supposed to believe whatever that comes out of your trap Potter? Hmm?” he sneered, tightening his hold on Harry. 
 
“Not over your dead body.” Potter scowled, hazel eyes narrowing behind his gold-rimmed glasses. There was a flash of the look, the malicious one Potter was used to throwing around in their adolescent years, but it was gone before Severus could call it out. 
 
It wasn’t that look that frightened his baby, but the intimidating stance Potter’s partner took as he charged ahead at Snape and Harry at a rapid, threatening pace.
 
 Harry wailed in fear as Black’s ugly face twisted in a jeer, his body towering over Harry, his face, merely inches away from Severus’s. “Talk to him like that again Snape and we’ll see who ends up dead next!” Harry wailed louder, screeching and squeezing his eyes shut at the mean man.
 
Severus imagined the imaginary rope of his patience snap.
 
Several things happened at once; James strode to his partner and seized him by his forearm as Lupin called both his friends out in alarm. Snape drew out his wand as he supported the howling baby in one arm and Dumbledore looked over the scene while shaking his head.
 
“Sirius stop this!” Potter seethed in Black’s ear as he pulled him away from the chair and towards the fireplace, next to the werewolf’s stiff posture, “Stop, just stop! Can’t you see you’re scaring the baby!”
 
 
 He heard Lupin also chastising the man, at the same time as Potter, “What the hell Padfoot?! He’s a baby!”
 
Severus for his part was jostled back to reality to realize that yes, he did have said terrified baby in his arms, and so, proceeded to rock the weeping child in his arms, lightly bouncing him to ease the cries. 
 
Harry hid his face in his father’s robes once again, his cries muffled by the thick black fabric. Severus glared at the headmaster over the baby. His heart clenching in his chest.
 
“You’re entrusting my one-year-old to that man?” he asked serenely, keeping his face stoic and the disgust at bay. Dumbledore remained silent. Darkness loomed over the muteness and Severus couldn’t have been more sickened.
 
 Black struggled In Potter’s stronghold with a snarl. “You insulted my...”
 
 “Your what, Black?” the young man whipped his head back to the mutt. “Is he your husband? Your boyfriend? You can’t even own it up to him enough to marry him. So stop the theatrics.”
 
 “Severus that’s enough.” Albus snapped gravely.
 
 Severus narrowed his eyes at the tone, “You cannot force me.”
 
“But Lucius can. Severus, you know better than anyone, what this all really means. Lucius taking over Voldemort’s place whether temporarily or not is no small feat.”
 
Severus shook his head, again and again, and willed himself to wake from this fucking nightmare, but Albus just kept forging on, “He would kill you without a second thought if he finds out about your true identity. The Death Eaters are turbulent now, there is going to be a massacre for sure. You needn’t be part of that.” 
 
Severus rolled his eyes. Of course, the old man cared about his life.
 
He didn’t. This was an act, a transaction of interests. 
 
“I would prefer to not work for you if doing so costs me, my son.”
 
“And Harry would prefer it if you didn’t die. You cannot afford to be selfish now, my boy. We are still at war.”
 
 Severus let out a breathy chuckle. It was an empty, bitter one. There was no meaning or intent behind it, other than the fact that he was done. He was so done. “So now raising my own son is deemed selfish? The child is mine,” He inhaled the suffocating air with spite. “This is the only thing I have left to live for, what my dead wife left me. You cannot take that away from me too.”
 
But he could. 
 
The man had already taken too much from him, too many people, too many privileges that others had with no fear of undesirable consequences. Severus knew he was being irrational, childish. He knew it all, but he wanted this to end.
 
 He just wanted things to end.
 
“If he finds out that Harry is alive and that you are the father, he would kill you for sure.” Albus’s tone was comforting. Much to Severus’s infuriation.
 
Yes, the young grieving man, already knew that. He knew that no one could know, he knew he couldn’t protect Harry by himself.
 
His mentor continued. “For now, the only people that are aware of what really took place are the people in this office and a few trusted order members.”
 
Hagrid, Poppy, Molly and Arthur Weasley, Potter, Black, Lupin and Alice Longbottom. Not a long list by any means. Those were the only people who knew of their marriage and Harry’s true parentage. Not even McGonagall knew that he was married to Lily or that he was the father of her child.
 
“They could be sworn to secrecy,” Albus assures Severus. “James and Sirius would take Harry in, and Lily would be honoured as the single mother everyone assumed she was. This can be easily fixed, Severus.”
 
 Fixed? Severus frowned. His life wasn’t something to be fixed. Or brushed under the rug. Harry will not be fixed.
 
Severus stood again, mindful of the baby in his arms and hoping that he could land a decent punch with one arm while holding a baby with the other. He tapped his boots on the ground and stared at his mentor dead in the eyes.
 
“Except there’s nothing to fix. My son isn’t an object.” He spat out. “He was orphaned tonight and I’m not robbing him of what he has left only to replace it with a spare.” He said, wildly waving a hand at the said couple. “I don’t think Potter and Black could ever care for him or love him as I do.”
 
Black almost sent him off to his demise when he was sixteen. He could’ve died that night, and Lupin would have torn him to shreds if Potter hadn’t arrived in time. He couldn’t just leave his child with a person like that. What if they hurt him?
 
“He’s my son and they loath the very sight of me.” He continued before anyone could make an argument. “The feeling is established and mutual, Dumbledore. I do not trust these people with Harry.”
 
From the other side of the office, Sirius Black let out an undignified chortle. His eyes wild in panic and hatred that was directed at Harry and Severus both. “That’s rich coming from you! You should be flattered we’re willing to take your brat in.” James squeezed his arm in warning but the man didn’t yield. Sirius yanked his arm away from James’s and took a step towards the young father.
 
“We wouldn’t have put our lives in danger for him even if you begged on your knees, Snivellus,” the black-haired man taunted. “This is just a favour for Evans. In fact, you’re lucky we even considered the option. that child is literally on a death list.”
 
James Potter threw an unimpressed glare at Black and shook his head as the other man opened his mouth again. “Sirius stop it! He’s wrong Snape; we would have taken Harry in without question. We still do. We owe it to Lily and we care about him.”
 
Severus turned away. He couldn’t deal with the conflicting looks he got from the duo, deal with Black’s hatred and contempt, and Potter’s desperation to take hold of Harry. 
 
 He didn’t turn to face the couple. “You have wronged me, Albus. For all these years, I won’t let you wrong my son too. I’m leaving.”
 
 “Let me owe you one more thing, Severus. Please.” He gave Severus a beseeching look. “We both know Harry is endangered-”
 
 The younger man whirled in a flash, Harry whimpered but didn’t start crying as Severus half expected. His eyes narrowed at the utter audacity of the old man. “Over a bunch of rubbish, a drunken Witch who couldn’t tell her tail from her absurd glasses spewed out!” he yelled.
 
 “You’re the one who made a big deal out of this! The one who caused all of this to happen!”
 
That idiotic ghost story that started all of this mess. Sybill Trelawney was the reason his wife was dead and his son was right spot on a target and Albus was even guiltier for interviewing her in the first place. It was Dumbledore who spread the word amongst the rank until it got the Dark Lord interested.
 
The BAIT.
 
It was playing with fire, Severus warned the old man repeatedly. But Albus assured him, the situation was under control, the Longbottoms had been transferred to a safe place and Lily and Harry would be safe in their respective safe house.
 
 “Voldemort vehemently believed in the Prophesy. I did not force him to.”
 
 “You put it in his head. Your/people spread the word, Albus.” He argued back futilely, it was all said and done. His Slytherin mind knew that there was no point in blaming the old man anymore. There was no point in blaming anyone.
 
 “He didn’t know Lily was married to you.” Albus disagreed defensively, “For the sake of technicality, he shouldn’t have even thought twice about which boy he shall choose. That’s why we were so focused on the Longbottoms, Severus. To the world, Harry was just an ordinary boy and Lily an admirable single mother.”
 
 “Well, he isn’t now. The cat is out of the bag! Everyone’s gonna find out about my son supposedly defeating the dark lord.”
 
 “But they wouldn’t know who the father is.” Albus pointed out unhelpfully. He felt the need to continue when Severus didn’t immediately answer. “James, Sirius and I have talked extensively over the matter.”
 
Oh, so they had. 
 
The said couple squirmed uncomfortably under the other man’s murderous gaze. Well, at least one of them did, Black stared back defiantly. “They were both overjoyed and very agreeable.” Severus let the old man’s voice wash over him. Harry sensed his distress and buried his head back into his neck, calming the simmering man.
 
 Overjoyed? Severus thought indignantly. Before he could stop himself, his mouth opened. “Overjoyed that my wife is dead or overjoyed over the fact that they get to take my son away…”
 
“We’re all tired and the tension is high.” He threw a hateful glare at the wolf as he interrupted him, the man blessedly ignored the taunt. “Let’s all just calm down, please.”
 
 James shook his head. “We cannot sleep on this. Lucius could call on the Death Eaters any minute now.”
 
 “I’m not going then.”
 
“Then you will turn up dead in less than a week. Then the kid would die as well. You don’t owe this to yourself, Snape. You owe this to the kid. You’re the one who makes decisions for him. I think he would prefer living over other undesirable outcomes.”
 
 James pursed his lips and squeezed his partner’s shoulder just a bit too hard. He tried to soften the blow with a hasty wave of his hand.
 
 “And you wouldn’t be excluded from his life at all.” He tried to sound convincing. “It wouldn’t be public knowledge and Harry might not know but… you would still be there.”
 
 Severus had had enough of these people and their petty arguments. He needed to leave.
 
 “You talked them into this Headmaster. But you cannot talk me into it.”
 
 In one quick move, he swept a sniffling Harry up to his hip and in his arms before striding to the door; none of the others stopped him from almost running out of the office and down the spiral staircase.
 
Severus needed time.

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.

“Please go to sleep.” James Potter pleaded for what seemed to be the umpteenth time in the past three days. The baby on his lap only gave him a grumpy glare and then returned to feverishly chewing on his thumb. James sighed.
 
They were in their kitchen—in the safe house the order provided for the couple four months prior to all this madness— with James seated in one of the chairs he had set by the sink and Harry on his lap.

He was so tired that his eyes were seeing double, his knees, in spite of having no responsibility in maintaining his weight in a seated position, felt weak, like noodles. James could say, with absolute conviction that the only part of him still holding on with strength, were his hands, which were firmly clasped around the baby's back, too afraid that the kid would flail and hurt himself, or worse, James would accidentally drop him out of exhaustion.

Never in his wildest moments, had James thought that keeping a baby alive would be so hard. Not that Harry was making it easy in the slightest. It seemed as if he had chosen James as his sworn nemesis.

He hated James, he cried for hours just because James was the only company he had around, and once the baby figured that no one was going to sweep in and save him from James, did he stop crying, and not a moment sooner.

He cried. He made James cry. He made Sirius curse a lot, which caused James to angry cry, and throw the man out of the house until he agreed to abide by the ‘no swearing’ rule.
 
Harry had refused to sleep for more than two days, and only managed to get enough rest when he cried himself to the point that he couldn't even open his mouth anymore, and James, having zero experience as a parent and little patience to deal with an uncooperative one-year-old had no idea how to fix it.
 
 “Why don't you just sleep?” he rubbed Harry’s back in frantic circles. He distinctly remembered, hearing from Poppy, that babies liked physical comfort. Harry didn’t seem to be much of a fan of cuddling, but the back rubbing was somewhat working. It was a relief, but James’ palm was positively rubbed raw after constant days of just running over the back of the child’s shirt. It hurt and James couldn’t stop wishing someone would do the same for him.
 
 “Come on, you're a baby. Babies sleep. You have to sleep,” his words slurred as he voiced his protests. It was a whine really. He probably sounded more like a baby than Harry did. James whimpered, wincing as a low throbbing pain pulsed in his temples and his glasses sorely dug into his nose. He couldn’t remember he slept. He skipped sleep. Or maybe he didn’t.
 
 Harry whimpered back a bit more quietly and threw him another glossy look. James stifled a groan, feeling like he could cry at any given moment. He was gloriously past bashing his head against the counter or pulling at his messy, wild hair. He was so exhausted that all his given energy was focused on keeping the baby upright on his lap. Just holding the baby. Not falling asleep.
 
 That was the only position that calmed Harry. That and the back rubs. James didn't dare as much as to recline the kid or keep him to his chest without setting Harry off to throw another tantrum.

He wanted this, he couldn’t complain, because James asked for this. When Albus reached out to him, informed him that the kid was orphaned, he didn’t even have to ask James whether he would take him in. He agreed without a second thought.

James wasn’t regretting that decision, what he did regret was knowing so little about keeping a baby alive, and making this so much harder on himself, and Harry.

He couldn’t call for any help, the news of Harry’s whereabouts was kept vague, and Poppy was off on some mission or the other, Sirius was leading Aurors to merlin knew where, and James was on the verge of a breakdown.
 
Extending one trembling hand towards the sink, James checked on the bottle he had carelessly dropped into the bowl earlier. Baby food was out of the question after Harry managed to ruin his favourite shirt with apple porridge puke, and soiled the other one with chicken broth as soon as he changed out of the first one.

Banana mash, potatoes in any form and carrots were also met with strong opposition.

It basically left nothing left but milk.

Poppy had told him the best way to cool a hot bottle was by holding it under running water for a minute or two, James was so spent that he doubted he could hold his hand up long enough to do as she said. He settled for a water bowl instead.
 
He would have done it with his wand, but he honestly had no idea where he had put it last, a disconcerting fact, and frankly, the last thing on his sleep-addled mind. It could be anywhere; by the conjured changing table in the guest room, or in the laundry basket with the ruined shirts or even in their own room on the nightstand. James didn’t have the slightest idea.
 
His hand dunked in the cold water and he pulled the bottle out, realizing with dismay that he had left it there for too long. The formula milk was positively freezing now. He sighed, rubbing the bottle dry on his rumpled shirt before holding it out to the pouting baby.

Cold milk couldn’t be that bad for babies, could it? But then again, if it weren’t, then who would go to the trouble to warm them up?
 
If Snivellus could do it then so could he, James thought. He was a marauder, he would sooner die than lose to a one-year-old.
 
“Do you want something yummy?” he tried to sound soft, holding out the cold bottle towards the baby with an ashen face. “Maybe some milk? No?” Harry gnawed harder on his thumb, promptly ignoring the escalating way in which James was shaking the bottle to make it look remotely appealing.

James nodded to himself, breathing out slowly and flexing his hands on Harry's back. “Alright,” he told himself. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” he looked down at the baby. “How about we just go to sleep then?” the bottle fell and rolled on the ground as his pleas went ignored. James didn’t care.

He just wanted Harry to stop fucking starving himself. If only he could tell James what he really needed and James would go to the ends of this earth to get it for him. God knew that he would. The problem, was that Harry didn’t articulate a single fucking word.
 
He heard shuffling from the living room, and felt his shoulders drop a notch. Sirius was home. That was good. It wasn’t fantastic, it wasn’t Harry finally eating something, or sleeping a little. But it was something.

“He's not sleeping yet?” Sirius's voice washed over him like a cold balm and James twisted his face. ‘Good god,’ James mused in relief. ‘He’s back. Finally, he’s back.’
 
 That intense fear that gripped them both when the other was out on a mission or a simple patrol was earth-shatteringly real. Some days James didn’t see Sirius for days to no end until the man finally showed up exhausted, injured or royally pissed off.
 
James wasn’t usually the man they used for fieldwork, his talent made it absurdly hard to focus during a battle with dozens of different curses of all origins being spewed on all sides all at once. His only use in the Order was his funds and his uncanny talent to tell one magical trace from the other.
 
But the fear remained; the terror of not seeing the other when they’re being sent off to the battlefield with nothing but a wand and a goodbye kiss, or forced to navigate the ruins and corpses after the fight to cross names off a long list of potential people to add to the death eaters’ ranks.
 
 Sirius killed and put them behind bars, he was in action. He could get killed at any given time and leave James behind. James searched and examined the bodies of the other people who left their beloved behind in order to find the unknown Death eaters that still weren’t in their data base.
 
 Funnily enough, James was the one who got more death threats at the end of the day.
 
 Sirius repeated his question as he got closer to the duo.
 
“No,” he whined back with closed eyes, feeling Sirius’s soft lips land a gentle kiss on his sweat-coated forehead. He felt disgusting, not able to remember the last time he had the time to shower. He had not left Harry’s side since the moment Snape dropped him on his lap. So that was…three days? Four?
 
The other man winced loudly at James’s state and flopped down on the other chair, he faintly smelled of smoke, he leaned his forehead against James’ pulsing temple, and sighed, “Alright, I know this is going to sound horrible,” he whispered against his skin, “but, on a scale of one to ten, how bad would it be to give him a bit of dreamless sleep potion?” James's head snapped up in a flash and he glared.
 
 “Ten. Way over ten, Sirius.” He gritted out. “We're not giving the kid anything. Especially not an addictive—” he trailed off and then shook his head to clear the muddling thoughts, “—Substance.”
 
His partner ran a hand in James’s hair and rubbed at his own stubble with the other. “You need to rest, and so does he. Look at the kid, James.”
 
Harry sniffled on his partner’s lap, his thumb quivering with his trembling chin. Sirius cringed upon seeing the scene; they might need to replace that thumb with a pacifier soon, he recoiled at the thought of chewed up baby skin. They already had so much to deal with without having to worry about the baby’s fingers too.
 
“What do you suggest I do?” James’s hand felt scrubbed raw from the amount of back rubbing he had been doing. “I cannot get him to sleep, I can barely make him eat. The kid's too stubborn. I feel terrible and guilty... He's going to hurt himself like this.”
 
 As if on cue Harry let out a pathetic whimper, sitting as rigid as a wooden plank. Sirius crouched down to pick up the fallen bottle that had rolled away under the table, then momentarily flinched back as he realized just how cold the bottle felt in his hand. He risked another glance at his exhausted, and thoroughly frustrated partner and cleared his throat. James’s eyes glimmered with gratitude when Sirius reheated the formula with a quick flick of his wand and handed it to him.
 
 “Okay, Harry.” The man said, tilting the bottle down toward the baby’s face. “We're going to make a deal, you could drink this yummy milk now, and I promise we'll do something fun tomorrow... We go to the zoo, or you can have ice cream... Merlin,” he dropped his hand out of exhaustion, “I don't know.”

Harry looked away, unimpressed.
 
 “He's not going to sleep.” Padfoot quietly stated. With a heavy sigh, James set the bottle away, narrowing his eyes. Maybe he had missed something, maybe there was still some magical damage left. Maybe he was a terrible parent and he should just send Harry back to someone who could take care of him adequately.

He bore his eyes on the small child.
 
Seeing magical traces wasn’t something he had to force himself to do. It came as naturally as knowing that a banana was yellow and the sky blue, and right now, all he could see around Harry’s halo was nothing besides normal. A blank slate. A white shimmering halo that proved that young Harry hasn’t done a single ounce of magic by himself or accident.
 
 Unlike Snape’s black murky halo that tinged brown at the edges, or Sirius’s that faded into a stormy grey. Halos, or rather, magical traces, rarely had a specific colour, unless the magic was dark or morbid in nature. The baby had a vivid bubble of dark surrendering his head that night in Albus’s office, and a bit of Poppy’s fizzy trace after the medical procedure was done.
 
 But he was fine now.
 
 “We didn't do anything to him.” He muttered, tilting his head. “I tried everything. There's no trace of magical damage to his body either, I can see that he's healthy but... Why isn't he doing anything?”
 
Sirius intently watched the pupil dilation in his eyes. He shrugged, gazing at the back of Harry’s head.
 
 “Maybe he's in shock?”
 
 “Sirius,” James patiently drew his hands away from Harry’s back and moved to the baby’s temples, swiftly covering the small, perfect shaped ears on the baby’s head. His voice was still hushed when he spoke. “It's been three days, this is a one-year-old whose mind was wiped. He couldn't possibly be in shock.”

He also would not recollect an ounce of the words James spoke, so covering his ears, was mostly done out of habit than necessity.
 
“I don't know James... I know next to nothing about babies, especially Snape’s.” his eyes fixated on the dark rings under his beloved’s eyes and the drooping baby. He frowned. “But I know that you need to sleep at some point, love. Put him in his crib, he's bound to sleep on his own sometime.”
 
James’s eyes were suddenly blown wide as he bared his teeth at Sirius. “We just swore not to neglect him, we made an oath on our magic.” James sputtered. “I can't just leave him by himself!”
 
 Padfoot resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “We're not neglecting him, parents do that all the time.” At least, his nanny did. Sirius shook his head, and crouched over James again.
 
 “It's normal, okay? James, you work every day, you're an active member of the order, if anything, your toll is twice more than everyone else’s, and you're falling off your feet,” his fingers brush against James’s wrists, “Come here love, let's go sleep.”
 
 After a bit of silent persuasion, James finally yielded, but just as he reluctantly moved to stand, Harry’s dam broke and the baby started wailing in earnest, causing James’s face to crumple too.
 
 “Great, now he's crying.” James felt like crying too. He felt like he should be curled on the floor and wait for it to open up. Parenting was so hard, and exhaustive, and so much work and effort and it hadn't even been three days. James craved death in a way he never had before. He just wanted some rest. Not for himself. For Harry.
 
 It had only been three days and Harry just kept on wailing his displeasure with James every waking moment. If they didn't adjust him soon, then they might take Harry away. James did not want that to happen, because if it did…then he would never get a chance like this again. It made him feel like a horrible person, but it was true.
 
 There were just so many things that were going wrong, and so little time for him to try to fix them.
 
 Sirius warily reached out to steady his jelly-kneed partner. “Why don't you hand him over to me for a bit?” he asked hesitantly, mulling his lips at the pathetic wails that rose from the small child.
 
 Yawning widely, James deftly kept the crying boy at arms-length as to not cause further agitation- and shook his head, “Sirius, didn't you see what happened last time?”

 “Fair point.” They both winced. Harry kept on sniffing.
 
 “Alright how about this, buddy; you're coming with me and...” Sirius awkwardly gestured at James but still cringed as he continued. “Your daddy, and we all sleep on our bed. Does that sound good?”
 
 A faint smile formed on the other man’s relieved face. “Yeah, see?” he propped the baby in his arms. “That's a great idea, huh? Come on Harry... Do you want something to eat before we go?”
 
 Sirius blinked. “Are you expecting him to answer?” James looked startled at the question. Sirius frantically waved his hands as he tried to explain. “I mean he's been quiet these past few days, so can he really like…talk?”
 
 Time stopped. James’s face paled further, a few shades lighter than chalk, looking as if this earthshattering issue hadn’t occurred to him before. His eyes comically bulged behind his round glasses and his mouth dropped open, staring at the tiny, but a quiet baby in his arms like he was a grenade.
 
 ‘Oh damn,’ Sirius cursed himself under his breath as his spouse’s face morphed into one of utter mortification. Like it was their fault that the baby had gone mute somehow.
 
 “But he could talk,” James blurted out more to himself than Sirius. “He’s fifteen months old. He talked in the office. Lily told me that he had a very impressive vocabulary for someone his age, and now he hasn't uttered a word in four days. We have to fix this. Let's try this, Harry...”
 
 Sirius interrupted the ranting with concern. “Oh, merlin. We should seriously get you to a bed. Come on.”
 
 “No Sirius, I'm fine.”
 
 Sirius grabbed his elbow, “No, you're not. You’re rambling like a mad man. Give me the kid, or you'll drop him.”
 
The chair next to the sink clattered and fell to the ground as James hastily drew back from the extended hands. “It's...”
 
Sirius cut him off with a dark scowl. “It’s not fine, James. You’re on a verge of a mental breakdown, and in case you don’t remember how that one ends…it sucks. It does. So before we let that happen, let’s just take small baby steps, okay?” James nodded slowly and Sirius gently coaxed the fussy baby out of his arms and circled his own other arm around James. His body sagged into the embrace.
 
 “Let’s just get him to sleep.”
 
 James had never been so glad to hear Sirius mention sleep before in his entire life.
 
 
 ***
 
 “Severus.” A rich melodic voice called him from behind.
 
The man didn’t turn to face the voice, he kept on staring out of the arched window into the storm that was barreling outside. There was barely anything to see, just raindrops madly pattering against the charmed glass as if holding on for dear life before being blasted sideways by the wind. The fight of the weak against god.

Still, Severus found the darkness and the howling of the wind rather more pleasant than the blood-soaked walls and the disgruntled heap of corpses in the other room.
 
 He felt Lucius closing upon him from behind, two other Death Eaters took their positions by the door as guards. Severus assumed that they were there in case he wanted to assassinate Malfoy. Not likely, he drawled bitterly in his head, not after seeing the brutal slaughter that had just died down with the last scream. The fight of the weak against god. Well, not exactly god, but his replacement.
 
“Lucius…or shall I call you ‘my lord’ now?” he was too distraught to care about the sardonic tone of his voice, and frankly, he wasn’t fazed at all by all of the gore and Bellatrix’s remains strewn about in the hall downstairs. For all he cared, he would gladly be the one joining her.
 
 “Come off it.” The other man waved him off, the smell of bourbon came off him in unpleasant waves as small ice cubes crinkled in the tiny shot glass in his raised hand.
 
 “I suppose my congratulation is not warranted either,” Severus said, his narrowed eyes tightening as the sky lightened up. An earsplitting thunder tore itself from the clouds.
 
 “You know, as well as I, that this arrangement is only temporary. Until our Lord can come back to us.”

What a bunch of bullshit. They both knew it. Power had a beguiling way of ensnaring people, and Lucius was deep down in the mud, entangled in it, really, if the power move tonight was anything to go by.
 
Severus couldn’t stop himself, he chortled. “Of course, I would never doubt your intentions.” Both were lying through their teeth, and they both knew it. He idly wondered if the guards standing by the library’s door were somehow charmed to be excluded from this conversation, because surely not a single soul, aside from himself, could keep a straight face through Lucius’s fibs.
 
 Even behind masks, their faces remained stoic and their shoulders broadened. Not in the slightest bothered by the way Severus addressed their new ‘lord’. Conclusion; either they were brutes and not so bright in the head, or excluded from the conversation somehow. Lucius wanted this conversation to be private, but not obviously seem so…why?
 
 Severus quickly occluded the confusion in his eyes and turned his head away.
 
Lucius was arrogant, but not careless, and if there was anyone who could see right through his ploy it was Severus.
 
Well, there was Bella too…what had remained of her anyways.
 
“You were late tonight, I expected you by my side the moment you received the news, Severus,” Lucius said as he placed a hand— the one with the bourbon— on Snape’s shoulder.

“You know why I was late.” He resisted the urge to flinch away from the cold bony grasp Lucius’s fingers had on his flesh and the icy cold bottom of the bourbon glass that was digging into his shoulder. The touch was so aggravating that for less than a second Severus even considered scrubbing his skin off with acid. Alas, even the strongest of poisons could not burn off the filth his kind carried.
 
 “I do.” The blonde admitted. “What did Dumbledore have to say about this?”
 
This isn’t the Dark Lord, Severus reminded himself as he steeled his thoughts. Lucius, as pompous and arrogant as he was, didn’t have mind-reading abilities.
 
 “The same thing that our inner people are spewing about.” He sneered as another lighting struck.
 
“Either the sources are the same or it’s the truth.” He concluded, clasping both hands behind his back and subtly brushing off Lucius’s stronghold on his shoulder.
 
 “Beaten by a bastard child.” Lucius shook his head in disappointment. The glass of bourbon crinkled in his hand as he took a small swing. “How utterly…inconvenient.”
 
 Severus swallowed the bile rising his throat. “What came of the brat?” Lucius asked. Severus was a trained double agent and still struggled to keep his face devoid of any response or emotion.
 
 His son was far away, being cared for by Potter and Black. The two people he would get to call father one day. The one thing Severus salvaged and now had lost. He kept deleting these thoughts as soon as they formed. He deleted the ache and devastation and the unfairness. He had a job to do. He was keeping Harry safe.
 
 “Classified information, I’m afraid.” He replied without a hitch. “Dumbledore doesn’t trust me that much.”
 
 “You’re lying.” Lucius easily waved him off.
 
Severus rolled his eyes, “All I know is that he was taken in by one of the order members.” Enough truth, but not too many details. Lying was almost like second nature to Severus, even before he started working as a spy.
 
 “Names?” the aristocrat man required coldly.
 
 “One of the Blacks was on the list of candidates. Albus Dumbledore is surely too smart to even consider them. For his own sake more than the…kid.”

He unclasped his hands and finally turned his back to the window, threading his mind to the sound of rain as a way to keep his personal thoughts locked away. Rain was always his favourite anchor for Occlumency.
 
 “Are you orchestrating an ambush?” his voice sounded nonchalant, blank, devoid of care. Exactly the way he wanted it to. In his head, however, he was raging, he was raving the palace in his mind at the thought of Lucius hurting a hair on his son’s head. The two sides of him fought nail and tooth over dominance, but of course, the cold, heartless bastard always won.
 
 “They’re better off dead, especially for defaming our lord and slandering our ways.” Severus itched to grab the smug, slightly drunk man by his throat and throttle the life out of him, but he resisted the urge. One day, Lucius, he vowed to the man inwardly. One day.
 
Lucius flicked an eyebrow, “However, the ranks are a bit too turbulent for ordered attacks. I might decide to just set them loose…fight it out themselves until they’re a bit worn out.”
 
 Severus hummed, his eyes fixated on the bourbon in Lucius’s hand. He should change the subject, the current one hit too close to home for his comfort. He needed at least five more hours to successfully file Harry away in a corner in his mind. It was still too raw, like a stab wound that was just sprinkled with salt.
 
“Killing Bellatrix was a mistake, Lucius,” he started, letting a touch of disapproving castigation sip through his voice. “She was one of his most fanatic followers in the inner circle. Insane but promising. The number of people who followed her in return was quite disconcerting…she would have been a great asset by our side.”
 
 Lucius let his fingers go slack around the bourbon glass. It fell and sloshed on the carpeted floor with a subdued thud. The man shook off his fingers as he angrily stared into Severus’s eyes.
 
 “She was deranged and she dared to question my loyalty. Our Lord wouldn’t have perished her either.”
 
 Severus smirked viciously, he crossed his arms. “You were terrified of her. Scared that she would overthrow you first. I wasn’t born yesterday, Lucius. You just weren’t good enough to recruit her. Give her a bone to gnaw on,”
 
 “Our Lord only kept her around to do his dirty work for him. Even he was disgusted by her sometimes, I couldn’t let her-” Severus, feeling too comfortable in his skin now, started to pace around the rigid man. He interrupted the rant as he came to a stop behind Lucius.
 
 “Take your rightful place.” He finished. He lowered his head next to Lucius’s ear. “After all, it’s such an honour to follow the Dark Lord’s footsteps in his untimely absence.” He whispered in the man’s ear. “Only the most loyal are fit for the position.”
 
 Lucius whirled around in a flash, wand in hand and his grey eyes narrowed into snake slits.
 
 “Are you questioning me?” he hissed, threateningly raising his wand.
 
 Severus stepped back, rolling his shoulders. Mentally praising himself for getting one on Lucius Malfoy. “I’m not,” he said frankly. “Are you ? Something tells me that you aren’t too keen to let go of this,” he gestured around the room. “Whenever our lord comes back asking for it.”
 
The other man snorted, the wand slackening in his hand. “I’d be foolish to refuse.” His eyes stayed narrowed on Severus. “You should be more careful, Severus. I’m starting to wonder about your loyalties.”
 
 “I’m here by your side, aren’t I?”
 
This time, it was Lucius who loomed over Severus with a triumphant smirk. “It’d better remain this way, my friend, otherwise, if our lord-"
 
 Severus loudly cut him off and took a wide step back, his back almost colliding with the cold, rain plastered window. “ When our lord is resurrected. I will be the first one in line.”
 
 In line to finish him once and for all.
 
“I must prepare for the speech now.” Lucius abruptly declared and pocketed his wand, turning and striding to his guards. “I’m glad we chatted, Severus.” He threw a smirk at the potion master over his shoulder. “You wouldn’t mind taking care of the bodies in the hall on your way, would you? The house-elves are regrettably squeamish about it.”
 
 **
 
 Only two hours after Sirius had forcibly dragged James to bed, he was rudely awakened by a wet, slobbery hand repeatedly smacking his cheek. He groaned, batting at the chubby hand.
 
A tiny whine answered him and another smack landed on his chin. Black sighed, grudgingly peeling an eye open to catch the kid giving him the stink eye with his drool covered hand ready to strike again.

Sirius warily fumbled his hand to shake James awake but stopped dead in his tracks as he heard the deep snores filling the room and saw his partner’s mouth hanging loose in the dark, a shiny line of drool dripping down his chin.
 
James was, by all definition, dead to the world. Sirius was not about to intrude on that. Not that he could blame him, his partner had been left alone with a tiny, uncooperative human being for more than three days, and as sleep-addled as Sirius’s own brain was, the task of duelling Death Eaters had apparently taken less toll than parenting Snape’s kid.
 
“Okay, what do you want?” he asked the kid quietly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Harold narrowed his eyes, and just as quietly smacked his cheek again, almost as if he also didn’t want to wake James.
 
Sirius clicked his tongue and reached out to restrain Harry’s raised hand. “Stop that, kid.” He grimaced at the drool but then almost choked as the smell hit him. He almost turned over in their bed.
 
 “Oh, Merlin.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust, coughing and choking quietly as he suddenly understood the dire need of the freshening charms James had hastily reapplied to the changing table earlier; how could something so small be the source of that smell. Merlin.

He winced as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He threw a desperate glance over at his James and selfishly wished that the man would wake up on his own in a few moments if the smell got bad enough.
 
 Harry scowled at him and pouted, his eyes glazing over with tears as the smell got worse and James remained peacefully asleep.
 
 “Alright. Fine.” He scooped up the demanding baby with a held breath and hastily jumped off their bed, stilling immediately as the bed loudly screeched under their weight. Sirius’s widened eyes met Harry’s and then they both glanced at James’s snoring figure.
 
 Still asleep then, the curly-haired man thought in relief and stood on the tip of his toes. Harry remained blissfully silent as they made their way out of the darkened room and didn’t spare James a second glance. It was uncanny, the way the child seemed to settle down in James’s absence. As if the kid himself was relieved by the fact that he was finally away from the crazy man he had spent three days with.
 
 “Come on, he couldn’t have been that bad kid.” He mumbled to the grumpy baby as he padded to their guest room, where James had set up the changing table before. He kept his chin up and breathed mostly through his mouth to avoid the smell. He had never spent much time around kids, but he had no idea they smelled so profoundly awful.
 
 Unlike the first time he had attempted holding Harold, the kid was either too spent or desperate enough that he didn’t put up a fight even as Sirius set him down on the changing table.
 
 “No wonder it smells awful, it’s like a dung bomb exploded in there,” Sirius tells the quiet wriggling child as he clumsily taped the clean diaper. Harry was too busy giving him the cold shoulder and munching on his drool covered fist to reply.
 
 He scooped Harry up and headed downstairs to their kitchen instead of the bedroom; he had barely eaten a thing in the past three days on a mission, and he felt too guilty to ask James for anything when he arrived. He decided that a simple midnight sandwich would have to do if he wanted to stave off starvation.
 
 As he set Harry on the table and moved about their kitchen he noticed the kid quietly babbling to his fist and paused, listening to the kid. He didn’t know why, but the fact that Snape’s spawn hadn’t uttered a single word must have had more to it than the kid’s natural giving-the-cold-shoulder attitude.
 
 Maybe James’s concerns weren’t that far off the point. Sirius hummed to himself.
 
He took the bread out of the pantry and set the knife on the furthest counter away from the babbling child as he wrestled a bit with the pickle jar; they had some leftover ham, some roast beef, and a bit of ketchup. Not his favourite choice for a meal, as he abhorred ketchup with pickles in general, but he was hungry enough to include both and suck it up.
 
 “You see, kid?” Sirius turned to Harry, ketchup in hand. “You’ve worn him out so much that I might get poisoned now. You’re to blame if I died tonight, so keep up the good act.”
 
 Harry pretended—or at least, Sirius thought—that he didn’t notice nor heard the grumpy man as he moved around him to fetch a plate.

 He put all of the ingredients in front of Harry and collapsed in a nearby chair, cringing as the plate clattered on the table. Harry paused momentarily to give him an unimpressed glare and went back to zoning out.
 
 “Well sorry for being a human being, kid.” He bitterly mumbled under his breath, reaching for the bread. “Not all of us can go on hunger strikes and act badass about it.”
 
 The kid grunted but didn’t turn to face the man. Sirius rolled his eyes and fetched a tablespoon to sort out the ketchup. He eyed his options with a careful eye.
 
 He hummed. “Ham and roast beef could be two separate sandwiches…but meh.” He shrugged. “Let’s get creative tonight.” He was never a cook, to begin with, and he never had much to do with sandwiches while growing up, seeing as pureblood etiquette whirred its ugly nose away at anything less than a graceful meal that required at least three forks and a carving knife.
 
 If Sirius was being brutally honest with himself, without James’s all thumbs cooking, he would have probably starved to death in a dark alley somewhere. Not many people could be trusted to handle food these days. For one reason or another, for either spiking food intentionally, or otherwise.
 
 “Never, ever, eat what I give you, kiddo,” Sirius said as he mashed his collapsing sandwich together, and grimaced at the unappetizing sight. “We don’t want our saviour dying of food poisoning.” Harry’s head snapped to his face as he said this and Sirius raised both eyebrows at the sudden rapt attention he was receiving.
 
 “Okay…” he said slowly and brought the harrowing-looking sandwich close to take a bite. Harry complained loudly as he opened his mouth.

 Sirius lowered the sandwich with a sigh. “What?”
 
Harry whined loudly, his eyes solely on Sirius’s hands, or rather, the bulging sandwich in them. Padfoot’s eyebrows shot higher.
 
 “Is…anything wrong with it?”
 
 Harry ignored him altogether but smacked his lips as his eyes remained on Sirius’s hands. Realization dawned on the exhausted man; he might not have spent much time with kids, but he knew a hungry baby when he saw one. The look he could bet James hadn’t seen on Harry ever since he offered him food.
 
“You’re hungry, aren’t you, little fella?” Sirius asked, warily extending one hand in his pocket to grab his wand. Harry brought his fist back in his mouth as a response and not even once took his eyes off the sandwich.
 
Flicking his wrist and muttering a quick ‘Accio’, Sirius retrieved the cold milk bottle James had left near the sink. He warmed it up and scooted closer to the drooling child.
 
 “Hey there, champ,” he held the bottle close to Harry’s face. “Do you want that milk now?”
 
 But Harry’s eyes didn’t budge away from the sandwich even when Sirius handed the bottle to him.
 
“Don’t tell me you want that .” Sirius grimaced as he gestured at the dismantled mess that was once a sandwich. Harry’s eyes glossed over and his bottom lip quivered as he tore his gaze away and met Sirius’s eyes.
 
The man’s heart melted on the spot as his eyes widened. Frantically setting the bottle away, he risked a glance at the ceiling to ensure that James was still asleep and then stared back at the baby.

“Alright, so you want it. That’s cool, kid, please don’t cry!” in a desperate attempt to quieten the increasing sobs Sirius reached out and tickled Harry’s tummy.
 
Harry went rigid and stared at Sirius with an open mouth. His face morphing into shock as the tears were kept at bay.

 Sirius cautiously tickled the baby’s tummy again and cocked his head with a grin as Harry gave out a small giggle that seemed more because of the unexpectedness than genuine mirth.
 
“So you like that, don’t you?” Harry grabbed his fingers with his drool covered hand, but Black couldn’t find it in himself to be mad and did the next best thing he could come up with. He pressed his lips together and blew a raspberry. Again, Harry drew back in shock, before smacking his lips together, trying to imitate Sirius.
 
Glad that the kid was distracted, he picked up Harry and put the small baby on his lap before tearing off a small piece of his sandwich, keeping his other hand firmly around the boy’s stomach. The child whimpered but opened his mouth obediently.
 
 “Can you even chew that?” he asked worriedly as he tore another piece, he dipped it in the ketchup jar and held it up to the baby.
 
Harry sniffled as he ate, but as far as Sirius could tell, he didn’t seem to have any problems with chomping the food. Now, he only had to hope that he hadn’t poisoned the kid for real, or James would kill him. He blew another raspberry at the thought, causing Harold to look up at him with wonder shining in his eyes.
 
The first real expression Sirius had seen on the boy ever since they brought him home. As little as it was, it still progressed, he supposed.
“I had one rule, kid,” he muttered to Harry as he held up a small chunk of ham. Harry turned his head away and Sirius instinctively raised his wand to empty the bottle, filling it up with some water.
 
 Harry drank and ate as if it was his first time, and the older man had to slow him down several times so the child wouldn’t get sick. His own stomach coiled and groaned out in hunger, but Sirius ignored it in favour to feed Harry as much as he could.
 
 “That’s a good boy.” He praised Harry as he gave him some more water. “There we go, drink it all then. Good boy.” He mopped up Harry’s chin with a handkerchief.
 
 “What are you doing?” a shocked voice exclaimed from the doorway, causing both heads to snap up.
 
 Sirius gave his partner a sheepish grin. “Midnight snack?” James rubbed his eyes and fixed his skew glasses as he stumbled into the kitchen.

 James stalked into the kitchen, looking as if he was walking in on a hallucination. “Is he…Sirius is he actually eating?” he rammed his glasses firmly to his eyes as he slumped down in front of them. Harry barely paused his pace and graced James’s presence with a whine.
 
“It seems like it, yeah. He drank quite a bit too.” Sirius nodded at the empty water bottle with his chin. James looked back and forth between the bottle and the baby. If Sirius wasn’t busy looking just as bewildered, he would’ve laughed his ass off at James’s comical expression.
 
 Harry reached his hand for the pickle in Sirius’s hand with a small sound. James snapped out of his trance and raised both eyebrows at the pickle.
 
 “Are you giving him ham and pickles?” he asked indignantly, but there was no real heat behind his voice. “You do know that this is a one-year-old…his digestive system-”
 
 Before he could work himself into a complete panic attack Sirius hushed him down with a wave of his hand.
 
 “He’s fine James, calm down, baby.”
 
Harry stopped like a deer caught in a headlight, with his ketchup smeared lips open and his hand halfway showing pickle in his mouth. Sirius rolled his eyes at the kid. “Not you Harry, I meant baby as in…oh this is going to get confusing.”
 
 “We’re giving him junk food.” James sounded so overly devastated. Sirius couldn’t see what the big deal was, as long the kid was fed, then it was all good.
 
 “He’s eating, James. That’s all that matters.” Sirius firmly corrected him.
 
 James lowered his head in his hands. “Other parents give their kids veggies and chicken broth and milk…here we are, after three days, feeding a one-year-old ham and pickles coated in expired ketchup,” Sirius winced as James sank down in the chair next to them.

The ketchup was expired? Well, fuck.

“I shudder to think what Lily has to say right now.”
 
 Sirius scratched his chin as he looked down at Harry, looking fed and truly content since that night in the office.
 
 “We’re terrific parents, James. See? The kid is already self-sufficient.”
 
 James blankly stared as Harry cleaned off his mouth with Sirius’s nightshirt and then emptied the remaining water in his bottle on the man’s lap.
 
 “Yeah.” James nodded faintly. “Self-sufficient.”