Harry Potter knew that he was in grave danger, despite the wards on his relatives' home. He knew that no safe was fool proof, a lesson that he had learned in his very first year at Hogwarts. Not only had someone breached a high-security vault at the strongest bank in the entire wizarding world, but both Voldemort himself and a group of three first year students had breached all the precautions that the teachers of Hogwarts could place around the Philosopher's Stone. This house was just another safe, and he knew without a doubt that Voldemort was trying to crack it.

Of course, Harry still had other problems to deal with. His aunt and uncle still didn't want to let Harry do his homework, and he was still their house elf. The only respite he had was that Dudley seemed to have grown up a bit. His experience the previous year with the Dementors seemed to have sobered him and he didn't taunt Harry any more or try to get him into trouble. He had actually lost weight, and though still chubby, he was at a much more healthy level, and he could even be seen to work out at the school gym from time to time. And most shocking, he tried to be pleasant to Harry when his parents weren't looking. It was the only bright spot in the whole situation.

Harry had taken some books on Occulmency home with him for the summer. He deeply regretted his behavior, and should Dumbledore still want Snape to teach him, Harry wanted to be more prepared. He now knew what Snape had meant when he ordered him to clear his mind, and he knew how to do it. It was the beginning that he had lacked, and Snape's prior lessons now made sense. He was getting fairly good at blocking Voldemort's visions, though the Cruciatus and the Killing Curse still made it through the walls he had erected. He had actually caught Snape trying once to invade from the distance, and he had blocked him with relative ease. All the Potions Master had gotten out of his head had been the weather in Surrey, and he had still sent Harry an owl the next day that scathingly told him he needed vast improvement. Harry had only acknowledged the letter, promising to continue practicing, refusing to insult the man. He still felt guilty for invading Snape's Pensive, and he didn't want to aggravate him more than necessary.

Harry was allowed to watch the morning and evening news with no complaint as long as he was quiet; another side effect of the Dementor attack last year. They knew that, no matter what Harry felt about them, he would at least warn them if he felt they were in danger from the demon who had haunted his life for so long. They made no comment one way or the other when he sat on the bottom step and watched the tele from that distance. They seemed to have reached a sort of peace with him; as long as he did his work and hid his homework from them, they left him alone. It was welcome, if confusing.

Harry was starting to grow up physically, as well. He had already put on one growth spurt that summer, and by the ache in his bones, he was due for another one fairly soon. Already, he stood at 5'9", and he thought he might actually break six feet. Quite a change from the short skinny lad he had always been before. He snorted at the thought. Now he would be tall and skinny. Not much improvement.

Harry sighed and leaned back in his chair. He wasn't going to get any work done this way. He looked over at the bedside clock. 11:53 AM. No wonder he was so bloody tired. Sirius would really be laughing at you now.

That thought made him frown. He still blamed himself somewhat for that whole mess. It was his fault that anyone had been in the Department of Mysteries at all that night, but Sirius was a Gryffindor, and hell hounds couldn't have kept him away that night. He was just too cocky when fighting his cousin, LeStrange, and it had cost him his life.

Harry put his homework away for the night and decided to follow his old tradition of waiting until it was his birthday before going to sleep. He had done it for as long as he could remember, and he saw no reason not to do so now. He would be sixteen in just a few minutes. After all, it only happened once in your life.

As the clock struck twelve, however, something different happened, something that would change his life forever.

Harry had always had a light brown mark on his upper arm. It was an indistinguishable blob, a large birthmark that he had always had and always ignored. After all, lots of people had birthmarks. But at the stroke of midnight, the mark began to move. There was no pain, but Harry could feel something under the skin there, and he ripped his shirt off to figure out what was going on. As the mark reformed it also darkened, until it was a dark freckle color. When it was finished moving, it was the like a tattoo, a phoenix with a snake clutched in its claws.

Suddenly an image appeared in the air before him. It was like one of those holographic projections you'd see in a Star Wars film, but in full color and without being so grainy. It was none other than Lily Potter. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he took in the vision of his mother. Is this real?

The image began to speak. "Well, Harry, it's your sixteenth birthday. I'm only sad that I'm not there to see it. As I'm recording this message, I know I'm not going to be there for you, and it's killing me to think about it, but I've had no choice in the matter, as I'm sure you know. Now, I'm sure you have a million questions running through your head, but these message marks will only hold so much, so I have to hurry. First understand that James and I love you very much. That will never change, no matter where we are right now and no matter what else you will learn tonight."

The young vision sighed. "Two years ago, when James and I were married, we ran a number of the usual tests with a mediwitch, and we found out that James couldn't have children. There was something wrong; I won't bore you with the details. We both wanted a child badly, though, so we had a discussion, and I did something practical. I went to Severus Snape and explained the situation to him, then asked if he would be willing to give me a child and then submit to a memory charm. James apologized for all the stunts he pulled when we were in school. I'm sure you've heard the stories by now. But it worked. He made his donation and James put an anonymous donation into the potions fund of Hogwarts. Then we Obliviated him, as agreed.

"Severus will never know from us that he is your biological father. What you choose to do with this information is your own decision. This mark will never fade now, but it will never play its message again, either. It contains not only this message, but a glamour charm that makes you look like James in everything but your eyes. The glamour won't just go away; the change will be gradual and subtle as the charm's power runs out. Then you'll start to look like you should have all along."

The young witch had tears in her eyes as she continued. "I imagine you're feeling hurt and confused right now, and I'm sorry. But hopefully you'll be able to find peace with this. I love you, Harry, and I hope you find happiness in your life." The image then faded out, leaving Harry with a whole lot of unanswered questions. But foremost among them was how in the world was he going to tell Snape?

Snape glowered at the snowy owl as she landed gracefully on his breakfast table. He took the letter she carried and tried to get her to fly off again, but she had obviously been instructed to wait for a response. He growled. I'm going to murder that boy, I swear it!

He sighed and ripped open the letter, flipping it open to read.

Professor Snape,

Today is my sixteenth birthday. I always wait up for midnight on these nights to greet a new year and make a wish, but this time something happened. A birthmark I've always had changed into a dark brown tattoo of a phoenix holding a snake. There are two charms connected with it. The first one was a message from my mother. She put it on me.

You need to take a dose of Antoblivia, Professor. I know that you have no reason to trust me after what I did last year, but I also know that there is a test you can perform on yourself that will confirm your need for it. There is a hole in your memory, and my mother put it there. I don't mean to be cryptic, but you'd never believe me if I just told you what she told me.

Hedwig has been instructed to wait for your response. Once you've taken the potion, tell me what you want to do with the information you regain. I will abide by whatever decision you make, without complaint.

Sincerely confused, Harry Potter

Antoblivia? Potter was saying that Lily Potter had Obliviated him for some reason. He sincerely hoped that this was a prank, both because he didn't really want to deal with whatever she might have concealed from him and because he'd love a chance to take points from Gryffindor. Still, if it was a prank, it was a rather pointless one, especially when he obviously knew that it would easily be discovered. And how in the world did Potter know about the Scanning Charm and Antoblivia Potion? He really wouldn't have though him a good enough student to have a clue about such things.

Snape blew a deep breath out of his nose as he sat back in the chair he was sitting in, leaving the parchment of the letter on the table next to his breakfast plate. Well, there was absolutely nothing harmful about the Scanning Charm. Decision made, he pulled his wand out of the pocket of his robes, swished it in a simple movement and firmly said, "Excutio magum!", tapping the top of his head with his wand.

He growled softly as the word Obliviate swam in yellow smoke before his eyes. So, Potter was telling the truth. Hmm. Well, the boy was deferring to his judgment in this, so he could deal with whatever Lily had hidden from him in whatever way he chose. He would hold Potter to his promise, certainly. He glanced at the white owl, who had taken up the back of one of the chairs at the table and had fallen asleep. Still waiting. Damn. Insistent bird.

Well, there was nothing for it. He had no intention of remaining ignorant, so he left the dining room and entered his private lab, the one in which he brewed potions for both the Order and Voldemort. He also conducted his own research in here, developing weapons and cures and just tinkering when he was bored. It was his one true release, much as he imagined Quidditch was for Potter, that one thing he could do to stop all other thoughts from entering his mind. He could concentrate fully on the potion and the procedures, getting lost in his own little world of bubbling cauldrons and steaming distilleries.

On one shelf was the potion he sought, which he kept on hand for emergencies. One never knew what they might need in advance when dealing with Dumbledore, Voldemort or inept children. Antobliviate was made from several memory-altering ingredients, including Forget-me-not and Sense-all, had a creamy texture and a buttery coloration. It smelled and tasted like cut grass and burned like Firewhiskey, all the way down.

Knowing that it would take only a minute for the potion to take effect, Snape went back out into the dining room and sat back down in his chair. He would not be able to remain standing while he relived his lost memories and he had no wish to collapse in a heap on the floor. Fog took his vision, and suddenly he was lost in a vision seventeen years old.

October 23, 1979...

Severus Snape had only been a member of the Order of the Phoenix for six months. He had seen and done too much for him to remain loyal to the madman he was forced to call Master, and now he was busily trying to redeem himself. He was twenty-four years old, and already a murderer. It was not something he was proud of; in fact it made him sick to his stomach every time he thought about it. But it was something he had to live with, that and the fact that, to be any kind of spy, he had to continue doing so.

This night he was in his quarters at Hogwarts, grading essays. This was his first year teaching, and already the position was wearing on his nerves. He had never been so horribly stupid in Potions class! How could anyone, even a first year Hufflepuff, think that a plant with the name Deadly Nightshade could be edible?

So engrossed was he in his work that he didn't hear it the first time someone knocked on his portrait entrance, but the second time was much louder. Who could that be? He got up and went to open the door, getting quite a shock. It was Lily!

Lily Evans-Potter was the only friend he'd ever had during his school years. It had been she who got him into the meeting with the Order of the Phoenix which had lead to his current occupation as a teacher and a spy. She'd always tried to keep her then-boyfriend and his friends from harassing the lonely dark boy, though she was never successful, and she had comforted him when she could. She had even asked him to forgive her for loving the one who had tormented him so, but she'd had to follow her heart. He had just nodded and then warned Potter the next day that he'd murder him in his sleep if he ever hurt Lily. Potter had taken threat seriously and nodded back respectfully. It had kind of irked him that he hadn't gotten a rise out of the irritating man, but he was glad to have made an impression.

"Lily!"

"Can I come in, Severus?"

"Of course! My door will always be open to you, Lily, even if no one else."

The lovely auburn-haired woman had circles under her eyes and slight puffiness that indicated she had been crying. "I'm sorry, Sev. I just don't know who else to turn to with this." She seemed reluctant to continue.

"You know you can tell me anything, Lily."

She gave him a watery but sincere smile. "I know." She sighed. "James and I went to a mediwitch about a week ago, just to get ourselves checked out. But we found out that James can't have children."

Severus embraced his friend. "I'm sorry. I know how much you wanted a family."

Lily nodded. "I still do, Sev, and so does he. Medical magic can't help us, and adoption is out of the question at the moment, what with the war going on. But you can help us."

Severus blinked. What? "What is it? I don't know of any potion that would help the situation. I don't even know the real problem, and I doubt your husband wants me knowing, either." Just the thought of knowing that kind of intimate details about James Potter made him shudder.

A soft snort of laughter escaped her lips. "No, you're right about that." She sighed, squaring her shoulders. "James and I discussed this before I came here, and he's agreed to it. We're asking you to give us a child, Severus."

To say he was shocked was an understatement. "Lily, are you asking me to father a child with you? I can't do that! Any child of mine would be at severe risk if the Dark Lord ever discovered my duplicity, not to mention that if he didn't, I'd be expected to present them to him to be marked once they were seventeen! I won't do that to a child of mine, not like my father did to me!"

Lily shook her head, looking him straight in the eye. "And I'm not asking you to. I'd never put you or the child at risk like that. We'd put a memory charm on you so you'd never know, and we'd put a glamour on the child so they'll look like me or James. I know this is a lot to ask you when you'll never get to know about it, but we're desperate." She was crying now. "God, this is so wrong! I never should have come here, I'm sorry."

She was up and nearly out the door before he could grab her hand. "Lily, I --" He stopped. Then he took a deep breath. "I would never be prouder than to give you a child. I know how good you are with memory charms. Tell you what. If we do this, then Mr. Potter can donate twelve thousand Galleons to the Potions Fund of Hogwarts. And I want him to apologize, even if I'll never remember it. I'm too Slytherin not to ask him for something in return, but it's really just for appearances sake." He laughed. "Can't have Potter thinking I've gone soft." He paused. "You know that memory charms aren't perfect, no matter who casts them. I'll always feel something, even if I never figure out what it is."

"I know. But you're our only hope."

Three days later, the money was deposited in the Hogwarts accounts, and James had apologized for how horrible he had been to Snape during school. Then Lily came to him. It was just one night, as Lily could manipulate her body to ensure that she would get pregnant. Severus didn't love Lily, not romantically, but she was his best and only friend, and he knew that he was helping her. That was all the night meant to him, but it was enough.

They confirmed her pregnancy in the morning with a simple spell, then she dressed and did her hair in the bathroom while he did the same in the bedroom. They went out into the living room and Severus handed Lily a vial of potion. "This will combat the morning sickness if you get it."

She smiled. "Thank you Severus." Then she took out her wand. "Obliviate."

Snape shook his head. "Sev, you okay?"

"Hmm?" What was he doing sitting in the living room with Lily Potter?

"Are you okay? You seem a little out of it. Have you been getting enough sleep?"

He did seem rather tired. And why couldn't he remember what they'd been talking about? "Probably not. These brats wouldn't know a successful potion if it exploded in their faces!"

She grinned at him. "If it was successful, then it wouldn't explode, would it my friend?"

He chuckled at her. "Hopefully."

She stood up off the couch. "Well, I really need to be getting home, Sev. Thanks again for the potion. I have a feeling I'll be needing it. Mom told me she puked for a solid month when she was pregnant with me." She kissed him on the cheek. "I'll see you later." Then she walked out the door of his quarters. And he could only think one thing: when had she told him that she was pregnant?

Snape slowly opened his eyes, everything he had just remembered just as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. That was the nature of the spell, of course. Soon the memory would fade some, not be so immediate. And he was avoiding the issues.

He just couldn't believe it. Harry Potter was his son! He'd always felt a kind of connection to the boy. It was what had caused him to save the boy's life from Quirrel in his first year, and what he was fighting in his own mind when he was such a git to him. He had never wanted to feel any kind of responsibility to James Potter's son, just because the prat had kept him from dying in the jaws of a werewolf, which was what he had always assumed was the cause of his conflicted feelings. Never in a million years would he have guessed this.

So what to do? He didn't think that five years of being horrible to each other was just going to go away. Some things about Harry irritated him on their own. But how much of that was him wanting to be irritated? How much was actual dislike and how much was his hatred of James Potter, his life debt, and Gryffindor in general? He wasn't sure.

He looked over the table at where the white owl was still awaiting his response to Harry's letter. Very well. "Follow me, owl. I'll get your response together in my library."

The lovely bird watched him go, waiting until he was nearly out of her sight before flapping her way off the back of the chair she was perched on, then glided easily to meet and pass him. She knew what a library was, and the door to the room was open, so she just flitted on in.

Snape sat down at his writing desk, pulling out a fresh quill and opening his inkwell, and began to write his response to Harry.

That morning, after writing and sending his letter to Snape with Hedwig, he went down stairs and made breakfast for everyone. He never had to be asked or told any more, finding a love for cooking that would have surprised anyone who knew him. He had to keep it plain for his relatives, but Petunia had told him at the beginning of the summer that she wouldn't mind if he decided to experiment some in the kitchen, just so long as he didn't leave a mess or burn anything. Of course, she'd said it nastily, as though she had severe doubts as to his ability in that area, but he'd taken her at her word, and had been pleasantly surprised with the results.

Harry loved to cook. Just as Quidditch was one kind of release for him, freeing his mind from thought as he had to concentrate on the purely physical endeavor, cooking freed his mind to think, his hands busy while his thoughts wandered.

So as he made breakfast, he couldn't stop thinking about Snape. Severus Snape was his father. It boggled the mind and made a strange sort of sense at the same time. It explained why the Sorting Hat had wanted to put him in Slytherin, for one. After all, the son of a Snape should certainly do well in that house. But things were certainly going to be strange going back to Hogwarts this year. Should he tell anyone the truth? Would Snape want that? And if he did, what would happen to him? Would he still be forced to remain with the Dursleys for the rest of the summer despite having a living father? Would Ron reject him for his connection to the head of Slytherin? Would his face yet again be plastered all over the Daily Prophet? All these scenarios were likely, and there were darker possibilities, as well. Snape could reject him entirely. Or he could embrace him, only to become a high priority target of Death Eaters because of their relationship.

It all made his head hurt. He could just see Lucius Malfoy presenting Snape to Voldemort to be killed because Harry was his son. Yet another member of his family dead because of him. Don't borrow trouble! You don't even know what he wants to do yet! So he was panicking. That was par for the course for him. If he ever stopped to think, he panicked. If he didn't, then he was usually able to handle things. He just panicked after it was all over and done with. That didn't work so well last year, did it? his mind sneered at him. No it hadn't. Sirius Black had died because of Harry's foolish mistake. So he would just have to learn to keep his head. Don't panic and don't run off half cocked. There had to be a middle ground, didn't there?

About midday, several owls arrived with birthday gifts. Vernon insisted that the owls not come in the house, but other than that he made no protest. Honestly, Harry didn't blame him. Vernon was most likely thinking of them as ordinary birds, which would mess all over Petunia's carpets. And Harry had seen the floor of the owlery. Vernon couldn't know that the owls were trained not to defecate in homes they were delivering to.

Harry opened the presents, giving his mind a rest from thinking about his problem. He was careful with Fred and George's gifts, knowing that they were likely to contain gags. He was right, but the snakes that sprung out of the package were soft plushies, not rubber or realistic replicas, and they didn't move of their own accord once the initial spell had worn off. Once past the prank, they had given him a life-time 100% discount at their store as their primary investor. Hermione sent him a book, Muggle Myths and Legends. He thought it might be a good read. Ron had sent him a bag full of wizard candies, including Chocolate Frogs and Berti Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Molly and Arthur had sent him an instruction manual on learning to Apparate, which Molly warned him not to actually use until after Christmas. She figured it would take him six months to get the spell down, and then he'd only have one month to wait until he could legally get his license.

Remus sent him a book called I, Dragon, a book on becoming an Animagus and the joys the author had experienced as a dragon. A note was included. "Harry, this is the book that James, Sirius and Peter used to become Animagi so that they could stay with me. I recommend that you DO NOT register until after YKW is defeated. (Don't gripe about the name.) You will need every edge, and I know that this will give you one. Remus"

Harry knew that Remus was right, but thoughts of the Marauders only led him to remember what he was trying to ignore for the moment, that James was not his father. He sighed. So much of his identity, both good and bad, was wrapped up in the Potter name, a name which had never truly been his. He was a Snape, the exact opposite of everything he had previously known.

That night, one final owl made it's way to Harry. It was Hedwig, and she had Snape's reply in her beak.