After waking and getting cleaned up, Harry stood in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of his room. He was having trouble deciding how he would appear when he met Ron and Hermione in a few hours time. The most logical answer was to look like the Harry they left at the end of the previous year … but something in him just didn’t want to go back to that. He was a different Harry … a human one. So, Harry opted to appear before his friends the same way he had Dumbledore and McGonagall. Half way.

Dressing in jeans and a turtleneck, Harry pulled his hair back and headed down to breakfast. Dumbledore was sitting in his chair already, as was McGonagall and Snape. Remus was appearing through the door behind them, just as he walked down the house tables.

“Ready for the trip, Mr Potter?” Dumbledore asked, looking around McGonagall in order to see him.

“Absolutely, Sir,” Harry answered, smiling at the half strangled cough that Remus issued at the sound of his name. “I can’t wait.”

“Harry?” Remus exclaimed, peering at him intently before flicking his gaze to Snape and back again. “Wow … you look good…”

“Thank-you,” Harry answered, looking down modestly. “Though, this isn’t quite the whole deal. I didn’t want to freak Ron and Hermione out by looking entirely different.”

Remus nodded absently, still racking his eyes over Harry. “That’s a good choice then, because they’ll be surprised enough when they see you like this.”

Harry looked down at himself, frowning bewilderedly. “It’s not that different, is it?”

“I assure you, Mr Potter,” Snape spoke up from the other side of Dumbledore. “There is quite a significant difference in your appearance, compared to what your friends will be expecting.”

“Really?” Harry momentarily forgot about the grudge he bore against Snape for the moment, as he tried to determine how true his statement was. “I didn’t realize…”

“Let me make it clearer for you then, Mr Potter,” Snape drawled, pulling his wand from his robes and waving it. “This is what your friends will be expecting when they meet you in Hogsmeade.” An image of the thin and scrawny Harry materialized in front of the table, life like in all regards. “This is what you currently look like…” Snape waved his wand again, and an image of Harry as he appeared rose beside the former.

“Oh,” was all Harry could mutter. Seeing both of his images standing side by side made him see quite clearly, just how different he looked, even at his halfway point. If he didn’t know it was him already, he would have mistaken himself for someone else. “I guess it’s to be the old me, on our little trip,” he muttered, not bothering to wait and shifting right there at the table.

Remus gaped, and Snape looked on curiously, as Harry changed back into his old guise, missing only his glasses.

“You know, it’s strange,” Harry started, his brow furrowed in thought. “But, for some reason, being like this feels even more unnatural than the halfway I was just at? It’s weird … but now, this just feels … wrong, somehow…”

“It only feels wrong because it is so far from your true form, Mr Potter,” McGonagall spoke up, playing the instructor instinctively. “It will feel that way with any form other than your natural one’s, until you gain more experience with it. Then it will feel as normal as any other form you take, but your true one will always feel the most comfortable.”

Harry only nodded mutely and returned to his sausages. Breakfast soon finished and everyone started to leave for the day’s activities, but Harry called for Snape to wait for a few moments.

“What do you want, Potter? I have things to do,” said Snape, as the Double Doors to the Great Hall closed behind Dumbledore. He was currently dressed in a normal black button down shirt, and black trousers. Harry was mildly surprised at the strong frame the Potions Master kept hidden beneath his swathing robes.

“Um … I – I just wanted to apologize about what I said to you, that day in the Infirmary. I wasn’t being fair, especially after you helped me after I transformed. And I’m sorry I hit you as well,” Harry continued, missing the dazed look on Snape’s face. “I didn’t mean to, but it was just kind of reflex – ”

“Potter!” Snape cut in, halting Harry’s rambling. He was looking at him as though he’d lost his mind. Harry didn’t blame him. How many times would he actually be apologizing to the man? “Although you may feel the need to apologize, I don’t want to hear it. I already know that you had almost no control over your actions in the Infirmary, and you’ve every right to be angry at me about not telling you who your father is.”

Harry was flabbergasted. Snape was speaking to him civilly! More than that, he was admitting he’d been in the wrong! Harry shook his head jerkily as though to clear it.

“Professor, wait!” Harry called, for Snape had turned and made his way to the door behind the Head Table. He turned back; looking mildly irritated, but stopped all the same. Harry walked up to him, hating how he had to look upwards so far, now that he was short again. “Um … thank you.”

Snape’s eyebrows rose. “What for, Potter?”

Harry let his eyes drop to the floor. He didn’t want to bring it up again, but he needed to thank the man for what he did. “F – for taking me away from the Dursley’s … Sir…”

There was a stiff moment of silence, before Snape spoke up.

“There’s no need to thank me, Harry,” he said quietly. Harry’s head snapped up at the use of his first name by the Potions Master. He’d never done that before…

“But Sir – ”

“If it wasn’t for your friends Owling their concerns, we never would have known what was happening there … so I think it’s safe to say that the people you should thank, will be arriving here in a few hours.”

Harry held Snape’s gaze for a moment, before giving him the smallest smile and nodding. “Yes Sir.” Snape nodded back and once again turned to leave, reaching out for the latch before Harry thought of something else to ask the man. “Sir, I was wondering – ”

“What now, Potter?!” he snapped whirling around, looking as though he was wild for a moment.

Harry flinched and took an involuntary step away from him, a surge of panic filling his chest. Not again! Calm down you idiot! Uncle Vernon isn’t here… But Harry couldn’t stop the small tremors that sprung up in him. He knew his breathing had gotten quicker, and by the look on Snape’s face, he guessed he must look like a dear caught in the headlights.

He looked away, not wanting Snape to see him like this for a second time, and started to turn quickly, fully intending to flee so he could calm down. A sudden heavy hand on his shoulder made Harry cry out in fright. He instantly tried to throw the hand off and stumbled blindly sideways, running into the chairs sitting at the Head Table, tripping him up in his panic.

Someone was speaking to him, but Harry couldn’t make out the words. He crawled away from the voice (which sounded terrifyingly like Uncle Vernon) and tried to hide. Drawing his knees to his chest, Harry cowered under the table, rocking back and forth ……

***

“What now, Potter?!”

Snape whirled around, irritated profoundly by the boy’s insistence in keeping him away from his work. He scowled at the boy heavily … but he didn’t continue to speak. Snape furrowed his brow as Potter appeared as a frightened animal, spotted by the creature hunting it. He started tremble, ever so slightly, and Snape knew what was happening.

The boy appeared terrified and started to turn away. Cursing himself for his forgetfulness, knowing how hostile voices affected him at present, Snape quickly stepped forward, grasping the boy’s shoulder tightly to stay him.

Potter’s strangled yelp at the contact startled Snape quite efficiently. Instantly, Potter wrenched from his grasp and collided into the chairs they had occupied not ten minutes ago.

“Potter!” Snape called, hoping to call the boy back as he’d done in the Infirmary. “Potter, it’s all right … nothing’s going to hurt you…” He knelt down in front of him, leaning in slightly. The boy was muttering under his breath, too soft for most of what he was saying to be heard, but little things like “didn’t mean to” and “please don’t” reached his ears.

Snape snarled inwardly. He would get Dursley for what he’d done to this boy. No one had the right to treat anyone in that manner, let alone his own nephew. It was strange that, in merely three days, Harry had rid himself of all physical signs related to his abuse at the hands of his relatives, thanks to his restorative abilities. It was a shame that those same powers couldn’t be used to heal the traumatic damage to his mind as well.

“Harry,” Snape called again, more gently than before. “Harry you’re safe here. You’re at Hogwarts … no one’s going to harm you here…”

With large amounts of trepidation, Snape slowly reached out and touched Harry’s hair, trying to subconsciously project the feelings of comfort and affection that had been denied him his whole life. Needless to say, it was harder than Snape thought to have feelings of such bearing towards someone who resembled his childhood enemy so much. Snape knew his feelings were irrational, but to hate a face for so long it was hard to just push those feelings aside … no matter how much he wanted to.

Harry flinched away at Snape’s touch and whimpered a little more, so Snape took it as a good sign and continued his slow approach. He continued to whisper reassurance, while slowly getting closer to Harry, feeling the strangest emotions filling him as he continued. They were almost foreign to him, but strangely not unpleasant…

After a time, Harry’s rocking slowly diminished, as did his panicked muttering. Snape looked down and was surprised that he’d actually encased Harry in an embrace from behind; the boy leaning back into him. He was feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the close contact, but it seemed to fade swiftly as he felt Harry shift against him, seemingly making himself more comfortable. Snape was actually surprised that the boy was seeking any comfort with him at all, considering he was the reason behind his attack in the first place.

“I’m sorry…”

Snape blinked, almost missing the statement it was so soft. He turned his gaze to the unruly mop of black hair in front of him, seeing the slight shaking of the head, as though in shame, before tightening his arms minutely, feeling as though he needed to rectify this in any way possible.

“Don’t be,” Snape answered, just as quietly. “I should be saying that, not you. You only wished to say something else, and I took my impatience out on you. It would have only taken up another two minutes of my time, so there was no excuse for my behaviour. I apologize for causing you more distress.”

Snape held his breath, waiting for Harry to respond, letting it out when he felt Harry relax even more in his arms, actually leaning into him more. He allowed himself the smallest smile, realizing that, this didn’t seem so bad. He was comforting his son, and it was slowly filling a place in him that he thought dead years ago. It was a strange situation.

As he thought this however, Snape felt his hope at successfully being Harry’s father, diminish significantly. In order for him to be Harry’s father … he needed to tell him that he was. Yet Harry had declared only three days ago that he hated the man that fathered him, solely because he was a Deatheater.

Deciding he would think about that later, Snape thought back to what Harry was saying before he’d snapped at him.

“What were you going to ask me before, Harry?” he asked, sounding as reproachful of his own actions as he could.

“Hmm? Oh,” Harry sounded as though he’d come out of a light doze at the question, making Snape feel a strange sensation. He’s comfortable enough to fall asleep on me? “I was only going to ask if – if you could possibly try and teach me about my powers, as they come out? Nothing too important…”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Snape replied, looking down at the top of Harry’s head. “You do need to learn about your powers, and how to best use them. I’d be happy to teach you all I can about them. Naturally I couldn’t know all there is to know about them … but I can try my best.”

Harry nodded. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Don’t mention it…” Snape thought about his next request for only a moment, before plunging onwards. “… And while we’re at it, how about I call you Harry, and you may call me Severus, while term is out, or in private?”

At this, Harry slowly sat up and turned to face him, though letting him keep one arm on his shoulders. Snape was mildly surprised to see a look of something close to suspicion flit through the boy’s green eyes, as though determining if he was sane or even real.

“Why are you asking me this?” he said suddenly, looking at Snape almost coolly. “Why are you being so nice all of a sudden? You’ve always tried your best to discredit and embarrass me, so why the change?”

Snape held Harry’s gaze all the while, understanding why he would be so suspicious of his behaviour. He would have been uneasy if he didn’t ask him this.

“I realize it has been a long time coming, Harry,” Snape began quietly. “But, after seeing you last night, looking as you should have all these years, I realized that you are not James Potter. You may have looked like him, but it was wrong of me to hold my grudge against him on you as well.” He leant back against one of the table legs, sighing. “And now, knowing that James was never your father … I just want to start over…”

Snape was surprised at himself. Normally he was never so open with anyone save the Headmaster, but this just seemed to feel natural. He watched as Harry thought it over, finding himself crawling from under the table, as Harry had done while he thought it over. They stood facing each other, silent, when all of a sudden, Harry decided to shift into his true form.

Snape stared into the face that reminded him so much of his own, thinking that Harry had to be thick if he didn’t notice the resemblance, when said boy began to speak.

“All right …… Se – Severus,” he stuttered awkwardly. “But I don’t want you to call me Harry – ”

“Very well,” Snape interrupted, trying to hide the tremendous hurt that surged through him at the words. “Mr Potter. It’s a start at least – ”

“You didn’t let me finish, Severus,” Harry spoke over him, looking mildly amused at the same time as apologetic. Snape could tell that he hadn’t successfully hidden all the hurt…

“What I was going to say was that, I didn’t want you to call me Harry, because that has never really been my name … has it?” He held Harry’s gaze, realizing what he was saying. “I would like you to give me my name, Severus. You’ve helped me all these years, even if I didn’t know you did at the time, and would like to thank you by letting you give me a name I should have been using… that is just between us…” Harry held out his hand. “I would like to start over as well … and seeing how you know my last name – something I won’t force you to divulge – you can pick a name that would suit it best.”

Snape numbly took the hand Harry held out; feeling overwhelmed by the request Harry had given him. I am to name him. As though he’d always been mine to claim! I get to name my Son!

“I’m honoured to accept your request,” Snape hated how his voice wasn’t as smooth as it usually was, but at this point the couldn’t care. Harry smiled at him faintly, and he returned the gesture, releasing their clasped hands. “I’ll tell you your name after dinner tonight. I need some time to think it over. Could you meet me at around eight, at the potions room?” Harry nodded. “Thank you.” Snape glanced at his watch and grinned. “You should probably go and meet Albus now,” he remarked, grinning wider at his son’s puzzled expression. “You’ve about two hours until your friends arrive – ”

He got no further. Harry had cursed under his breath and dashed from the hall, not even giving Snape a second glance. He allowed himself a small chuckle, before growing serious again, determined to sit in his quarters and think of a good name for his son.