H.P.

He cursed under his breath. Snape was merciless, casting hexes at a speed he would never have believed possible if he hadn't been on the receiving end, and all Harry could do was dodge clumsily.

"You're on the defensive."

“Protego,” he shouted, but the stinging hex blasted its way through his shield. He skidded backwards and threw himself behind a tree to catch his breath. It was bitterly cold and the lake had frozen over but Snape was insistent that he had to start training as soon as possible so that no one could take advantage of his new ‘limitations’, as he put it.

"Stop hiding and attack me."

Grimacing, he clutched his wand tightly and stepped out once more. "Expelliarmus," he shouted, letting out a growl of frustration when his wand-arm twitched just as he cast, sending his spell ricocheting uselessly off a rock. He missed Snape by miles.

"Again. Move. You fought in that graveyard, so you can damn well fight now."

"It's not exactly the same, is it?" Harry huffed out. The frozen grass crunched beneath his hands as he dropped down, and a particularly vicious hex flew overhead, ruffling his hair. When he looked up, Snape was nowhere to be seen.

"Sir?" He climbed to his feet and fought hard to keep a secure grip on his wand as his limbs twitched. The effect of multiple rounds of the cruciatus curse was one reminder of that awful night that he could definitely do without, and it would be just like Snape to reappear the moment his wand slipped from his fingers.

"Fight back," a sinister voice growled behind him. Harry spun around, wand out, ready to defend himself, but couldn't hold back a startled gasp, or stop himself taking an involuntary step back. It was Snape, of course it was... He'd heard his voice, hadn't he? All he could see were those heavy, pitch-dark robes and that horrifying mask. He was back in the graveyard once more, surrounded, screaming... He heard the hissed crucio...

The pain didn't come. The masked face stared silently before launching a volley of hexes his way. One minute he was beside him, then by the Forbidden Forest, then up ahead. Harry threw up a shield, uneasily glancing about. What was Snape playing at?

"Sir?" Harry tried, his heart hammering hard in his chest. There was no reply. The figure apparated behind him, but closer this time. He was relentless, throwing hex after hex, with more of them landing as Harry struggled to get a shield up. "Protego. Protego!" He cursed as his wand slipped from his fingers.

The masked figure stalked closer as he struggled to scoop his wand from the ground. "Hold on. Hold on, Snape. Take off the mask. Take it off. SNAPE!"

The figure stopped short and abruptly yanked off the mask. Harry let out a whoosh of breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

“You didn’t tell me you brought that,” he accused. Just seeing the mask in Snape’s hand made him feel sick. And it was all the worse that it was him wearing it.

"You said that it was not the same. I need you to fight back as though you are under attack." Snape banished the mask with a quick flick of his wand.

"I can't cast like this." Harry kicked half-heartedly at a patch of grass. "It takes me three goes to cast a decent reparo at home, and even when I manage to cast anything I miss, and that's if I don't drop my wand."

"You do not get to use your nerve damage as an excuse. I saw you fighting back that night. Expelliarmus." Snape caught his wand with one hand.

"I've captured your wand. What are you going to do about it?"

"Hope really hard that I've got a hidden talent for wandless magic."

"You certainly don't have a talent for sarcasm," he retorted with a sneer. "Hit me. You don't win points for politeness. These people want to kill you."

"I'm not daft enough to try to hit you, not when you're expecting it at least."

"Then you'll have to do without your wand," Snape said, pocketing it.

"You're twice my size," Harry exclaimed. It was all well and good Snape trying to prepare him for another attack, but he wasn’t going to win a fist fight against a grown man.

"So is every damned Death Eater. They'll not think twice about hitting you and they'll enjoy it."

They did enjoy it that night. In his nightmares he could still hear them laughing while he screamed. Lucius Malfoy had been behind one of those masks and he’d watched as Voldemort tortured Harry and jeered when he tried to fight back.

Harry stared angrily up at Snape, who stared determinedly back at him. He shoved against him with all his strength and the man barely moved. He aimed a particularly vicious kick at his knee–

"Ohmygod. Ow!" He hopped up and down clutching his ankle and biting his tongue because Snape might be a little more lenient these days, but he wouldn't tolerate him swearing a blue streak right in front of him.

"The knee is a suitable weak spot, but you should aim for behind it,” Snape said, handing his wand over.

“You couldn’t have said that before? I thought you were supposed to be teaching me.”

“I wanted to see how good your instincts were.”

Harry was savagely pleased when Snape winced slightly as he flexed his leg.

Snape led the way back to the castle, lending Harry his arm as he hopped alongside him, and earning himself a thoroughly dirty look when he suggested that he levitate him through the corridors. Thankfully, the castle was still quiet over the break, so they didn’t run into anyone. It would probably look as though Harry’d been given some horrific detention out in the grounds, but even then, the old Snape wouldn’t have bothered helping him inside.

"Lupin is coming over at some point this afternoon, but it is utterly beyond him to be specific as to when..."

"Is Sirius coming too?" Harry asked, but there was no real trace of hope in his tone, not after their last argument. Sirius had known that he'd grown to like Snape, he'd promised to try to get over his issues with the situation, and to try not to ruin it, but it was like he couldn't help himself.

"I sincerely hope not," Snape replied darkly.

"You're going to let me heal myself, aren't you?" Harry asked, hopping awkwardly through the portrait hole. "Can I do my ankle?"

"No, you need bone firming balm and not to put your weight on it," he said quickly, throwing out an arm to catch Harry as he put his foot down to correct his balance. "Try not to make it worse. Funnily enough, it will not endear me to the adoption authorities if I appear to have beaten you."

"Fine, but I get to heal the rest."

Snape spun around on his way to the store cupboard so quickly he practically pirouetted on the spot.

"If I get even the slightest suspicion that you're intentionally giving yourself creative injuries to learn how to heal them, then I assure you, I know a variety of effective methods to make you regret that the thought even crossed your mind," he threatened, looming over Harry.

"I'm not doing it on purpose. I'm having a bit of trouble controlling my limbs at the moment, or haven't you noticed?" His condition wasn't improving as quickly as he'd hoped at all. The only reprieve from the trembling was for an hour or so after he took his potion.

School was going to be a nightmare – everyone was going to stare, and he was going to look inept in all his classes. Not to mention the whole adoption thing was going to come out. The Gryffindors were going to be livid.

"Dear Merlin," Snape murmured, "I'm giving you ideas..."

"Er, surprise..." Remus interrupted and Snape went utterly rigid from shock, shoving Harry behind him and thrusting his wand out. He hadn’t just arrived early; he’d brought a load of people with him. Slowly, teachers and Harry’s friends filtered out of the kitchen, and Remus raised both hands in a calming gesture.

"Ow," Harry complained, landing on his already abused ankle. "Sir, stop human shielding me. Blimey, it's not your birthday, is it?"

"Yes, Potter, there's a delegation of Gryffindors in my kitchen to celebrate my birthday," he said, treating him to a withering glance and not bothering to lower his wand.

"We know it’s not approved, but it’s a ‘congratulations on the adoption’ party." Remus grimaced apologetically as Snape did little more than scowl at the assembled crowd.

Someone whooped and a two-man applause was quickly hushed into silence. "Hush up, Fred."

"I've never had a surprise party," Harry said, using Snape as a crutch to see who had turned out.

S.S.

"You," he pointed at Harry. "And you,” he said more darkly at Lupin. “Come with me."

"I think you might be in trouble," Harry said as the pair followed him into his study.

He ordered Harry to use the bone firming balm while he rounded on the infuriating wolf. His quarters were filled with angry Gryffindors barely a week after Harry's attack, as if the boy wasn't exhausted enough. "What is the meaning of this– this–"

"Party," Harry supplied.

"Shut up," he hissed.

Lupin winced slightly, but wasn't looking nearly as sorry as Severus would have liked. "I was trying to help.”

“How could this possibly be helpful? None of those people are here to congratulate me on this adoption and they’ve just seen Harry injured in my care. If anything, you’ve made this situation far worse.”

“I think they’ll appreciate why he might want to practice defence. This is still salvageable and it’s an opportunity to get more people on side. You and I both know you’d never have agreed to throwing a party, and no one out there would believe that you’d invite them to one, but this way they get to see how comfortable Harry is at home and that he’s happy. Then maybe when the adoption workers ask, your colleagues will say how great it is that Harry has a father and how well you're both doing."

There was some sense to that garbled explanation. He had been worried about what the Ministry would make of any interviews with his colleagues or Harry's friends.

He narrowed his eyes, not quite willing to let the wolf off the hook that easily. “You had no right to bring anyone into my quarters without my permission.” He was damned tempted to block Lupin’s floo access. To think that they’d all been in his quarters and he’d not realised immediately was nothing short of embarrassing. He’d become too lax.

“Come on, sir. Remus is the only person who thinks this adoption is a good idea. And everyone’s here now,” Harry said, closing the lid on the balm and testing his newly healed ankle.

He crooked a finger and took the child's chin firmly to deal with the injuries on his face. Harry had a rather enthusiastic approach to dodging and his condition made him far less co-ordinated, earning him a few decent bruises and cutting his lip, but Harry had done well, all things considered.

He aimed his wand directly at Harry’s face, and he reared back with a scowl. "What happened to letting me heal myself?"

"I said you could heal yourself, not give yourself brain damage."

"Alright, but I'm healing the ones on my arms.”

"I cannot heal a split lip if you insist on moving it." Harry rolled his eyes but relented.

Teaching Harry healing had proven to be a good distraction from the events of the week before. Learning a new spell didn’t seem to put him in as much of a bad mood as practising the ones he already knew, but his ability to perform complex spells was only hindered by his slight physical limitations, not by any incompetence or lack of magical skill.

Nevertheless, the idea that the Dark Lord and his followers might believe that Harry had become inept did have a certain appeal. Let them believe the boy had lost confidence and was falling behind, and he would train him so that even before he was recovered, he had the skills required to defend himself.

"The Weasley twins?" he growled at Lupin, still not ready to concede that this ridiculous gathering was a good idea.

"They're Harry's friends. I also thought it might help with Ron's attitude if his brothers were here..."

"You had better hope there has been a Christmas miracle and those two idiots have been able to tap into previously undiscovered reserves of good behaviour. If they step out of line, it is you I'm holding responsible."

He held Harry’s injured arm steady so that he could concentrate on the healing spell. "Ha!" Harry cheered when the scrapes began to bind shut, tugging his arm out of Severus' grasp. "Can I have my potion before I go out there then?"

"No, you take it at one o'clock every day, not when it suits you."

He didn't appreciate the look Harry gave him as he headed out to his friends. If the Dark Lord did believe that his symptoms had knocked his confidence, then as it stands, he may well be right.

H.P.

Harry strode up to his friends, a huge grin plastered on his face. They were here, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and he’d even spotted the twins. Both of them looked fiendishly delighted at being in Snape's quarters. But they'd all come to celebrate his adoption – it had just been a shock before and now they were giving it a chance at least.

"It's great to see all of you guys before term starts," he said, accepting a hug from Hermione and a thump on the back from Ron. "I can't believe you're here, Neville."

Neville gave a high-pitched chuckle at that, keeping a terrified eye trained on Snape as if expecting him to pounce. "Me neither."

"I'll show you guys my room," he said, beckoning the three of them to follow. He flicked a glance around Snape’s quarters, spotting mischievous grins on the twins' faces as they sidled up alongside the teachers.

He lowered his voice. "I’m sorry I lied before, Neville. Especially after, you know, the stuff we talked about, and how you stuck up for me when the Slytherins were giving me grief about the Dursleys."

"Don't worry about it. Professor Lupin explained things when he invited me over."

"How are you, really?" Hermione interjected, staring hard, as if she might be able to tell just by looking.

"Well enough," Harry shrugged, then changed the subject abruptly. “I'm glad you changed your minds about this. I should have explained things better before."

"We wouldn't miss a chance to see you," Hermione began. Ron nodded, but his eyes were scanning the bedroom. Harry’s practice snitch was on its shelf, his broom in the corner and his homework half-finished on his desk. His bed wasn’t made, and his pyjamas had ended up on the floor, but Snape had never been bothered if his room was a bit messy.

Neville picked up the tattered muggle novel on Harry’s bedside table. He smiled as he flicked through it, and Harry guessed that he recognised Snape’s handwriting at the edge of some of the pages.

Hermione was looking at the charmed blackboard he’d gotten from Snape for Christmas which still declared that he needed to practice occlumency. It was probably stuck, and Snape was too busy to look at the charm.  

Harry rubbed his arm self-consciously. "You have changed your minds though, haven't you? You're at my surprise adoption party because you're giving it a chance, at least."

"I reckon we've seen enough already," Ron muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You couldn't even walk in. You're supposed to be recovering and you had blood on your face."

"I was training, you pillock. Snape reckons it’s a good idea if I can defend myself the next time some lunatic kidnaps me off school grounds. He’s not hurting me.”

"You’d say that if you'd been confunded," Ron replied, crossing his arms. "You wouldn't be able to stand being in the same room as that greasy git if you weren't. You hate him; everyone hates him. How many detentions has he given you?"

"I don't care," Harry replied. "Alright? I don't care that he gives out a million detentions every day, or that he tries to take all of Gryffindor's points, or that he's Head of Slytherin."

"You've got to confunded or something because the Harry Potter I know would care that Snape's basically the closest thing to evil at Hogwarts."

"Maybe you've not been confunded," Hermione interrupted, her tone conciliatory. "But what happened to you was very traumatic and Professor Snape is taking advantage."

"I know exactly what he's like and I don't care. I get to be selfish, alright? I don't like the way he treats Gryffindor, or the way he speaks to students, and I really want to think that he'll change now that he knows he won't have to spy, but if he doesn't then I still want to be adopted. I like him, I like having a family and I'm not giving it up just because you don't like who it is."

"Listen to yourself, mate."

"Do you not see what you're saying?" Hermione said desperately. "You've only just been through a traumatic ordeal; you're not thinking clearly.”

"Maybe Harry knows Snape better than we do if he’s been living here and wants to be adopted,” Neville said.

"You hate Snape. He's almost worse to you than he is to Harry." Ron's face contorted oddly with confusion. More than likely he was trying to work out how Snape had gotten to Neville too.

"But I don't hate Harry. I'm not going to ruin his adoption party just because it's Snape who's adopting him. He's not adopting me."

"We're just worried that Harry's not thought this through properly. It’s a serious commitment, and of all the people to adopt you..." She turned back to Harry. "Won't you admit that it is a bit suspicious?"

"No. You've not even tried to see this from my side. Ron decided from the off that I'd been confunded and you think I'm too traumatised or damaged to know what I'm talking about. Hagrid's my friend and he's giving this a chance."

"Yeah, well, we all know he has a weakness for monsters."

"You take that back," he said, giving Ron a hard shove that sent him stumbling back into his desk. He clenched his fist tightly. He might not be able to aim a decent curse first time, but he could still throw a punch.

"Why should I?"

Hagrid’s large form cast a shadow from the doorway. "Yeh'll be wantin' ter break this up lads, before this gets outta hand."

"He's the one–" Harry began, outraged.

"These squabbles are beneath all o' yeh. You-Know-Who is back and we need ter come together."

"Is he really back?" Neville asked quietly.

"Yeah, but the Ministry won't listen. They don't believe us," Harry sighed.

"Professor Dumbledore made an announcement in the paper, but–"

"Yeah, I know, he's a barmy old man and I'm traumatised and don't know what I'm talking about. That's a bit of a common theme lately, isn't it?"

"They'll know soon enough," Hermione said.

S.S.

He was going to wring Lupin’s neck. Severus was surrounded by a cluster of teachers, all staring at his quarters, at Harry’s trainers tossed haphazardly by the door, the quidditch magazine he’d left on the arm of the sofa and the transfiguration textbook on the coffee table. Little mundane things that spoke volumes under scrutiny.

"I had no idea you were even contemplating fatherhood," Pomona exclaimed.

"Everyone is intrigued to know how you've been getting on," Filius added.

"I know I certainly am." Minerva's tone was decidedly less pleasant than the other heads of houses and Severus replied with a dark look.

"Well enough," he snapped when the silence dragged long enough that it was clear they expected a verbal response.

Lupin sent him an eloquently exasperated glare. "How is Harry doing?"

"He's strong," he said, on safer ground when he was discussing Harry. He glanced over to where child was talking to Hagrid, looking very disgruntle indeed. Longbottom hovered awkwardly beside him, and there was no sign of his usual sidekicks. "He's coping as well as I could have hoped."

"It's just terrible, absolutely terrible what he's been through," Pomona added inanely.

"And his training, was it?" Minerva asked, suspicion lacing the question. "How is he getting on with that?"

"It is obviously an adjustment. Harry is a target and he was kidnapped in this castle – he needs to be able to defend himself." It was ludicrous that he had to justify himself. Would she have him leave Harry defenceless and hope that no one attacked him in the months it took him to recover? And what of the next time the Dark Lord comes for the boy?

"I had an inkling you were fond of the lad over the summer," Filius said.

"Did you? Really?" Minerva's eyebrows shot up into her hairline.

"Of course, you weren't at Mr Potter's birthday meal."

"Tell us how this all happened. You have such a way with words, Professor," one of the Weasley twins asked, appearing suddenly next to Minerva.

"That's a story I'd love to hear. Do tell us," Minerva said, and the other heads murmured their agreement.

He raised his glare level to murderous. Those twins should not be in his quarters; if he had a choice they wouldn’t even be at the school.

"Sir?" Harry appeared at his side, the interruption beyond welcome. “It's one. Can I have my potion?"

"Excuse me," he muttered, carting Harry off to the kitchen before relinquishing his potion and rounding on him, his tone low and sinister. "Out of deference to you I will allow those Weasleys the opportunity to choose the manner of their demise, but if they do not desist, and swiftly, I will see to it that it is long, drawn out and painful. Are we clear?"

"They aren't being that bad," Harry replied, swallowing the potion in one gulp.

"You know exactly what they're doing, and I do not appreciate it."

"It’s better than having people think I'm pathetic or confunded. Isn't there some spell that can show them I'm not confunded or imperiused or whatever?"

"I will have to submit to every test at their disposal to prove to the Ministry that there has been no foul play. I will not do the same to appease a selfish child who has fashioned a more preferable reality in order not to accept your decision. I care nothing for Weasley's delusions, and I have no intention of justifying myself to that fool in my own home at a party intended to be a celebration of your impending adoption."

Harry sighed, folding his arms across his chest and sinking into a sullen silence. How long could they linger in the kitchen before their absence was noticed? The thought of going back out there, of making small talk with those people, made him shudder.

"I'll talk to the twins if you’re nice to Neville. He stuck up for me, and if you act like you always do, he might change his mind and there won't be a Gryffindor in the tower who doesn't think I'm mental."

He didn't hide how appalled the thought made him. "Nice? I'm not a nice man, Harry."

"Not right now, you aren't," he replied, stomping past him and out of the kitchen.

H.P.

"Hey, it's the heir of Slytherin," one of the twins exclaimed loudly. "It's about time you got around to us. We've been mingling."

"Yeah, I see that." He lowered his voice, catching Snape's eye. "Seriously, tone it down. He’s going to kill you."

"Your new dad? He's a gentle soul, really, our Professor Snape."

"Ah, look!" George plucked a frame from the mantel, his face lighting up with a wicked grin. It was the one Dumbledore took of Snape and Harry beside the Christmas tree. "It's a picture of dear old Severus and Harry."

"Go show it to McGonagall while he's talking to her," Fred said, a matching grin appearing on his face.

"Give me that." Harry yanked the photograph out of George's grip and clutched it to his chest photo side in so no one could see it. "I don't know what you're doing, but stop, alright? I want people to realise this adoption is a good idea and no-one'll believe me if he murders you two, even if he does let you choose how you want to go."

"Not a good idea, eh? What about this isn't good?" George asked, radiating honest confusion.

"Ask Ron and Hermione. They think I've got to be confunded to want to be adopted. Well, adopted by Snape."

"I think the real question here is whether or not Professor Snape has been confunded," George replied, dropping an arm casually over his shoulder. “We all know you’re just doing this to win the house cup next year and we support the lengths you’d go to.”

Neville chuckled and Harry cracked a smile.

"Do you want to admit anything, young man?" Fred asked, looking down at him with mock sternness.

"Sod off. Seriously though, he'll find a way to get you back."

"It's a bit of good-natured revenge and we won't get in trouble. We're counting on you." George snatched the picture and darted across the room. "Professor McGonagall, have you seen this photograph?"

"Doesn't Professor Snape look very fatherly?" Fred said loudly, joining his brother. "You could describe this picture as adorable, even."

Snape's face swiftly contorted with rage, and Harry could practically see a vein pulsing in his forehead.

"Oh my God, Neville, he just called Snape adorable to his face..."

"I can't believe they're still standing there."

"What did Fred just say?" Ron asked, coming to stand beside him, their fight forgotten.

"He called Snape adorable."

"Merlin."

It was like standing at the base of an active volcano seconds before it erupted. He had to act, and fast. "Professor. Hi, Professor!" he interrupted breathlessly after a mad dash across the room, careening awkwardly into the group of teachers.

"Hello, Mr Potter. I believe congratulations are in order," McGonagall greeted him, and even she had trouble sounding sincere.

"Yeah, thanks."

"And you're recovering well after your ordeal?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I am fine," he insisted when Snape gave him a look.

"Excuse me," Snape muttered once more, taking the interruption as an opportunity to make a thunderous beeline for the twins.

"I cannot imagine how you two can get along. The Head of Slytherin with a son who is so Gryffindor," McGonagall said, making no effort to hide her disbelief.

"I always imagined that if Severus had children there would be no question of them being sorted into Slytherin," Flitwick added, bouncing cheerily on the balls of his feet, even as Harry scowled. What did they know about anything?

"Ravenclaw would come a close second, of course," Professor Sprout commented.

"See, no one can believe it," Ron muttered behind him. "Who does Snape hate? All Gryffindors. Who's the biggest Gryffindor at school? Harry."

Harry clenched his fists tightly as his sides. "The only reason I'm in Gryffindor is because I asked to be. The hat wanted me in Slytherin."

He didn’t expect the shocked silence. In fact, he hadn’t intended so many people to hear. Harry reddened, regretting giving in to his temper, until a deep, sinister laughing filled the room. The sound was coming from Snape – he'd never heard the man really laugh before.  

"You're joking," Ron replied, horrified.

"As hilarious as that apparently was, no, I'm not joking."

Fred and George backed away, taken aback by this new extreme of emotion from Snape, not able to believe their luck.

S.S.

"I knew there was a reason I could bear to be around you," Severus commented, struggling to keep the glee from his tone. He’d spent a decent half hour rubbing this latest piece of information in Minerva's face. This hideous gathering was almost worth it to learn that fact alone. Perhaps Lupin’s idea hadn’t been so terrible after all.

"I'm still a Gryffindor. I said no to being a Slytherin, that still stands,” Harry replied, his eyes on the assembled guests. His earlier enthusiasm for the gathering seemed to have dampened and he’d been retreating steadily closer to his bedroom as time wore on, until he was leaning against the doorjamb. His friends were chatting quietly on the other side of the room where Granger was taking an interest in his bookshelf.

"There's hope for you yet now that I know there's more to you than foolish bravery and rash behaviour."

"It's kept me alive so far, hasn't it? I'd probably be dead if I'd been sorted into Slytherin, or worse, some evil, little twerp like Malfoy," Harry snapped with disproportionate venom.

Severus lowered his voice. "What is wrong with you?"

"I'm tired."

"I know–"

"No, I'm tired, Severus. I'm tired of trying to convince people to give this a chance. I'm tired of worrying that the adoption won't go through. I can't stop thinking about what Voldemort's going to do now that he's back, I can barely occlude, I haven't slept and I'm just tired. This whole thing was pointless. I can't convince people this is a good idea and it’s only going to get worse when school starts."

"Speech, speech, speech," those despicable twins began to chant.

"Go on, Severus," Filius encouraged and Pomona smiled, nodding along. Merlin, how he loathed the lot of them. If he never had to make small talk with them again it would be far too soon.

"Don't get mad," Harry whispered.

"Get mad, Potter? You have no idea." He stood to his full height and looked around at the room at the boy's friends, some of whom were more supportive than others, and at his own colleagues, a meddling bunch of fools who had no business setting foot in his home as far as he was concerned. He took a breath.

"Ladies and gentlemen, and Gryffindors... This has been a difficult time, and with the Dark Lord's return, it will undoubtedly continue to be. The support of friends and colleagues will be indispensable." He let his gaze linger darkly over the boy's two best friends.

"For those of you here who still have... misgivings about this arrangement, I can assure you I do not take this commitment lightly. And I am more than aware of how lucky I am,” he finished.

Harry's eyebrows shot up at that pronouncement and Lupin looked far too pleased for his liking, the bloody fool.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked when it was clear that the speech was over. "You're a Slytherin, so I know you didn't say all that because you wanted to share your feelings."

"Use your brain. You announced to the room earlier that you had one."

"Gryffindors have brains. Look at Hermione!"

"Indeed, I am," he replied snidely. The girl had spent most of the party putting his son in a foul mood as though questioning Harry’s desire for a parent would make him feel anything but defensive. "They are here for you. They are here because most of them doubt my ability and motivation to be your father. This farce was organised to convince them to support this adoption and that has to come from me, not you."

"So when we go back to school, you're going to be fairer to the Gryffindors?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Guess," Severus replied with a sneer.

H.P.

Harry scowled. Snape might have softened a bit towards him, but his general attitude hadn't changed one jot. That became clear when Snape had gone with him to his mediation session with the Dursleys.

In front of the adoption workers, he’d adopted a cool, responsible demeanour, affecting the utmost concern for the Dursleys and their fear of all things magical. It was a bit much, but the Ministry representatives seemed taken in.

Thankfully, Snape had organised for the meeting to be scheduled just after Harry was due for his potion. Apparently, he deemed the meeting stressful enough without adding what he called ‘unnecessary difficulties’. For his part, he was glad that he didn't have to deal with pitying looks, no more so than usual, at least.

The witch and wizard sent by the adoption services were stern-faced and solemn as they filed into the muggles’ kitchen, using their wands as conductors to reposition the chairs. The Dursleys looked horrified at the abuse of their furniture and looked doubtfully at the chairs as they sat, as if afraid of being contaminated by magic.

From what Snape had told him before they arrived, the Dursleys had been dead set against any interaction with the wizarding world until it had clicked that there was a good chance he would be permanently taken off their hands. Harry was just as thrilled at the thought but was under strict instructions not to show it.

Snape declined the offer of a seat, settling against the wall directly opposite where Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia sat, and slightly out of the Ministry witch and wizard's eye line. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Snape flash the Dursleys a sinister smile and he shivered at the black look in his eyes.

The Ministry representatives must have been well trained, or maybe they were moved to pity because of the genuine fear on the Dursleys' faces. They spoke reassuringly, explaining the situation to the muggles more than to Harry, not that they appreciated the courtesy. He could see the furious set of his uncle's jaw battling for dominance over the obvious fear in his eyes. Aunt Petunia was terrified enough to be trembling in her seat and even he was beginning to find it hard to feel anything other than pity, that was until she treated him to a look of deepest disgust.

He quelled the temptation to say that there was no point to all of this. The Dursleys weren't going to be up for any discussion about Harry, especially not with a bunch of wizards. He said nothing though; Snape wanted him to sit like a good, innocent Gryffindor and let the Dursleys dig their own grave.

With a reassuring smile, the older of the two adoption workers cleared his throat and began. "We've come to understand there have been some difficulties between yourselves and your nephew. There's been a petition for adoption made in recent weeks by Professor Snape and Harry has put forward a formal request to be taken out of your care." The Dursleys flicked a terrified glance at Snape over Harry's head. "However, the Ministry will not take steps to remove Mr Potter if there's a possibility for reconciliation. Suddenly uprooting him from his family home may not be in his best interests and we often find the best scenario is one where we can resolve any misunderstandings."

"There's no misunderstanding," Uncle Vernon growled, his anger overcoming his fear. "We don't want him. You can take the boy and give him to this Snape."

"That's Professor Snape, Mr Dursley," Snape said.

"This isn't anything so formal as that," the ministry official said, his kind smile faltering. "We're here to discuss the matter, to try and resolve any differences you might have."

"We don't want him, we never wanted him, and we've already said he could have him," Aunt Petunia insisted, her voice trembling too.

"Please," the other official interrupted. "We understand this is an emotional subject, but can we speak rationally?"

"I've told people to call in on us, so don't you try anything," Uncle Vernon said, shaking a belligerent finger, his eyes darting between the witch and three wizards. Harry whipped around at the particularly fearful look his uncle darted at Snape and the almost transfixed gaze of his aunt. Snape leaned against the doorjamb, taking in the scene, twirling his wand between his fingers and smiling a particularly nasty smile.

"I assure you there's no cause for alarm. We're only here for mediation."

"We don't need mediation." Uncle Vernon was turning beet red in frustration, but was worried enough not to begin shouting, not at fully trained witches and wizards. "Boy, do you want to be here?"

"God, no," Harry replied with feeling.

"We don't want him. We've raised that ungrateful miscreant, clothed him and fed him. You're to take him away and he can live with your lot and not darken our door again, d'you hear me?" Vernon Dursley said, rounding on Harry. "Don't you step foot in this house again, boy!"

"Really." The ministry workers exchanged shocked glances. "I think we've heard enough. Rest assured, Mr Potter will be taken off your hands."

"...Entirely irrational..." he could hear Snape murmuring to both Ministry representatives as they filed out of the house to find a convenient alley to disapparate from.

"I'm surprised you didn't do anything," Harry commented after both the adoption workers disappeared with a crack and they were alone on the streets of Little Whinging. "I thought you were going to– Hold on, where are you going?"

Snape was striding furiously back to number four Privet Drive. "I'm going to ask you to set foot in this house one more time. It's not safe for me to leave you out here alone." A powerful alohomora had the door unlocked and rebounding with a loud slam off the internal wall.

"DURSLEY."

"Get out of my house," Uncle Vernon roared, red faced with rage. "I'll call the police."

"You've got the boy. What more do you want?" his aunt said shrilly, staring down at the wand that Snape made no attempt to hide.

"The Dark Lord has returned and there will be another war," Snape announced, holding them at wand-point. Interestingly, his aunt looked more frightened, and not just because Snape was openly threatening them, but as if she really understood what Voldemort's return meant.

"You'll probably be safe from him and for a time you'll be safe from me. I will do nothing until this adoption is complete, but the moment he is my son, the very instant it becomes official, I would be very worried indeed."

Harry recognised the unadulterated loathing in Snape's eyes and from the twist of his sneering smile, he could see how much he was enjoying the Dursleys’ fear. "Sir, this isn't worth it. Can we just go?"

Snape ignored him, stepping forward and baring his teeth. "Listen to him. Despite all you've done he doesn't want me to hurt you. He's a good child, but you're out of luck because I'm not a good man."

He stretched his wand hand so that the dark mark was visible on his wrist. Harry doubted that his aunt or uncle knew what it meant, but he did, and he began to feel a stab of fear that Snape meant what he was saying and would go too far. "There will be deaths on both sides, good people, bad people, wizards, muggles. Who will notice the misfortunes of a couple of wizard-hating muggles? Better yet, who will care about the fate of two people who, instead of doting on our saviour, neglected and abused him?"

"Severus, you don't need to do this. I honestly don't care."

"They have laws; you people have prisons too," Aunt Petunia said.

"We will be at war. If I were to be caught, they'd likely give me a medal." Snape stalked closer, raising his wand even higher and Harry gasped. Snape stopped short, calmly lowering his wand.

"Of course, if Harry were to insist, I could leave you and yours intact... I suppose your survival rests on his good will. I wonder if you think you deserve it?"

Even by the time they had walked to the alleyway, Harry’s heart was still thumping painfully hard. "You wouldn't really do anything, would you?" Harry asked before Snape could apparate them away.

His expression was unreadable. "Do I seem the vengeful type?"

That day Harry resolved that he ought to come to terms with who Snape was... That, or get a long-term plan for dealing with his more evil, murderous side. Luckily, there was more to the man than that. Sometimes he could actually be alright. He just wished everyone else would try to see that.

Ron and Hermione came to say goodbye as Harry messed around with his practice snitch in his room. “If he treats you well and you’re sure this is what you want, we’ll support you. Won’t we, Ron?” Hermione said tentatively.

“Yeah, if you’re sure,” Ron echoed. “I still don’t like him though.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Harry replied, and part of the weight he’d been carrying lifted as he accepted a hug from Hermione and the truce.

Across the quarters, Snape nodded in response to a tremulous 'congratulations' from Neville. If Snape could look at Neville without sneering or taking points, if he could resist the urge to kill the Weasley twins, and if he could survive this party thinking that he was the lucky one, then it would have to all work out.

He had his friends and he was going to have a father, so all Harry had to do now was defeat Voldemort for good. And with Snape on his side, it seemed just that little bit more likely.