Harry was miserable. He didn't know what to do. He really didn't want to upset his new dad, but he knew, he just knew that he would never be able to keep up the subterfuge the man was insisting upon, not on a long term basis. Look what he had done today...grinned like a loon because he hadn't seen Snape for all of twenty-four hours, and he hadn't even realised that he was doing it!

I mean, how pathetic is that? Who would ever have thought that I would ever smile at the sight of Severus Snape? If Ron had seen me, he would have likely thought that I had indigestion, or something equally mundane. No way would my best mate have thought I was happy to see Snape!

Harry was trailing along behind his father as they headed through the empty hallways and down staircases, making their way to the dungeons. The trip was longer than Harry was used to it being, because his dad didn't take any of the shortcuts that he, Ron and Hermione made frequent use of. But that was good. Harry didn't relish the thought of reaching their destination and being sequestered with the angry wizard.

The click of Severus's boots reverberated loudly in the silence, the stone floors and walls throwing the noise back at them all along the route from the seventh floor to the dungeons. The noise was an intrusion; the castle seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for scores of noisy students to make it come to life again.

Harry kept his eyes on the flaring robes that practically brushed the rough-hewn stones on either side of the narrower corridors of the dungeons. Those were not happy robes! Harry had long since decided that the degree of flare achieved by the Potions Master's robes was a perfect barometer-reading of his mood.

But unlike when he might have been following Snape to one punishment or another in the past, Harry was not a bundle of nerves this time. He did not feel apprehensive; he just felt wretched. He had done it again, hadn't he? He had upset Snape and that was the last thing he had wanted to do.

Yesterday, Snape had hugged him; he had convinced Harry that they were going to make it as a family. That gesture more than anything had convinced Harry that Snape and he had a future together. And today, twenty-four hours later, he, Harry had already begun to stuff it up. Why couldn't he just go with the flow? Why did he have to be such a bloody plonker?

Harry stopped a few steps behind his dad when they arrived at the heavy oak door to the dungeon chambers. He stood with his shoulders hunched and his hands thrust deeply into the pockets of his baggy jeans. Severus performed the ritual to gain access to his rooms, and once the door swung open, he stepped back and ushered Harry in ahead of him. A quick glance at his father, as he passed showed Harry the stern, humourless features he had been used to seeing up until a few days ago, and his wretchedness increased.

Severus had not said a word all the way from Dumbledore's office and Harry had an overwhelming desire to apologise. But what would be the point? Everything he had said in Dumbledore's office was true. He wouldn't be able to keep this secret, because if there was one thing that Harry knew he was not, it was an actor. He most definitely was not going to be able to keep this act up without giving himself away, sooner rather than later. The only way that his friends wouldn't figure out that something was really wrong in his life was if he distanced himself from them entirely.

Was that what he had to do? Sacrifice his friends for his father. The mere thought of doing something like that made it feel like someone had put a giant hand inside his chest and ripped his heart out. Ron and Hermione were more than just his best friends; they were also family. And Ginny...he didn't know what Ginny was yet, but he knew that it was just as important as what he had with Ron and Hermione, but in a different way. One day, he suspected that what Ginny meant to him might become more important than his relationship with Ron and Hermione. He knew he was already very protective of her. But they would always, all of them, be very important to him; he couldn't just suddenly deny them.

But then again, neither did he want to lose his father just after he had found out that he had one. Harry shook his head. It couldn't come down to a choice of father or friends, surely? Snape wouldn't demand that of him. Harry was under no illusions that Severus Snape, head of Slytherin House and Hogwart's Potions Master held his friends in much higher esteem than he had Harry up until a short time ago...mainly because they were his friends, Harry suspected. But still, being such a sensible man, his dad had to know how important the Weasleys and Hermione were to him, and how upset he would be if he had to cut himself off from them entirely.

If he told Ron, Hermione and Ginny that Snape was his father, then it was their choice to do what they would. He was positive that, after the initial shock, he would be able to rely on Hermione's support, and he was sure that Ginny already knew that something was off between him and Snape, but she was still around. But Ron...despite what Harry had said in Dumbledore's office, he wasn't really sure how Ron would act ultimately...once the initial shock had worn off, and Ron saw that Harry was not entirely upset about having their most hated teacher as a father.

Harry sank gingerly onto the edge of a lounge-chair and watched as Severus strode to the Floo and spoke to a House Elf in the kitchens to order afternoon tea for two. Then he turned and stalked to the coat rack to hang his cloak and outer robe up. Harry was still not used to seeing this more casual Severus Snape. His high-collared, wide sleeved, white linen shirt was reminiscent of what the heroes wore on the covers of the ‘Bodice Ripper', Regency romances that Aunt Petunia was addicted to.

All that was ever visible of these undergarments was the very tips of the upright collar, so until Harry had begun to live with Severus, he had not had any idea exactly what his father wore under his robes. Immaculate white linen, slim fitting black trousers and high black boots made up the ensemble worn beneath the billowing black robes; maybe it was old-fashioned, but Harry conceded that it suited Severus Snape down to the ground. He did not think that he would ever reach such giddy heights of sartorial splendour himself, considering the clothes that he had worn for most of his life.

Harry always felt good in his own robes, but he knew he could never look as put together as Severus Snape did. But then again, he didn't think he was as uptight as his dad. The clothes most definitely reflected the man.

"Come and eat, Harry. You'll need sustenance considering what you will be doing for the next couple of hours."

Harry looked at his dad in surprise as he crossed the room and slipped into his usual chair at the table. The statement temporarily drove his current travails from his mind. "What will I be doing for the next couple of hours?" he asked as he reached for a slice of pound cake.

Severus poured tea into two cups and passed one across to Harry. He answered Harry's question with another question. "You have not been curious as to why I dragged you away from the Burrow after only twenty-four hours?"

Harry stopped chewing, and a crease appeared between his eyebrows. He hadn't really thought about that. He had been so pleased to see his dad again, he had gone with him without asking why or even where he was being taken. The where had been answered almost instantly, but the why had escaped his mind because they had gotten into the argument about him confessing their secret.

"Umm, I wasn't even thinking about a reason," admitted Harry, sheepishly. Severus rolled his eyes. "Well, I was too busy being peeved about what you said in front of everyone..."

Severus held up his hand and Harry fell silent. "I do not wish to discuss the subject of making our secret business, public knowledge..."

Harry opened his mouth to protest again, but Severus spoke over the top of him, his voice as typically harsh as Harry was once used to hearing it. "...anymore, at this time."

Harry's jaw set and he crossed his arms and threw himself back in his chair. "Fine," he said in a voice that told the world that it most patently was not fine.

Severus ignored this fit of pique. He sipped his tea and pretended to be interested in a slice of the cake. In fact, his appetite had quite deserted him. He indicated the half eaten portion of cake on Harry's plate.

"I would advise that you eat, Harry. You will be very busy for the next little while."

"Doing what?" asked Harry, despite himself.

"Professor McGonagall is in the middle of collating all of the O.W.L. results."

This news shook Harry out of his bad mood and he sat up straighter, his eyes fixed on his father's face. Snape didn't look too put out, so Harry dared hope that he had not failed miserably. "Umm...really?" he said, realising immediately how stupid the question was. As if Snape would fabricate something like that. "I mean..."

Severus, biting back his amusement, replied solemnly, "I know what you mean, Harry. She also informed me of what your choice of career is. I must say that I was a little surprised to hear that you wish to become an Auror."

Harry bristled. "Why should you be?"

Severus shrugged slightly. "No specific reason, I assure you. I just thought..."

"You just thought that I would sit back and live off my father's..." Harry's rant ceased abruptly. He wanted to kick himself. "Err, James's fortune," he finished lamely, the colour high in his cheeks.

All of the humour had left Severus's face and Harry felt mortified and confused.

"Do not..." said Severus angrily, "do that again."

"I'm sorry," said Harry wretchedly.

"Sorry for what?" bit out Severus and Harry's confusion intensified. "Sorry for mentioning your father...the father you have known about your whole life? I will not have you deny James, Harry."

"But..."

"Do you understand me?"

"Yes," said Harry. "I just didn't want to upset you."

"You upset me by thinking I would prefer you to forget the father who loved you and who died in his attempt to save you and your mother."

Now Harry felt really confused. "But you hated James."

"Once upon a time, yes. And I childishly kept that hatred simmering because I was too stubborn to admit to myself that I was being ridiculous. But my feelings aside, Harry, James is still your father and always will be. He loved you. This recent discovery of my shared paternity of you does not change that. Don't lessen his memory, or diminish his sacrifice."

Harry looked down at the crumbs on his plate. "I didn't mean to do that," he said softly. "And it won't happen again."

Severus studied the bewildered young face opposite him, predominantly James, to be sure, but the traces of himself were easier to see now that he knew they were there. Strangely, though his own face was very far from being attractive, his arched eyebrows and high cheekbones in what was essentially a Potter face, along with Lily's beautiful eyes, made for a very attractive youth. More attractive than James had ever been. And the fact that the boy was entirely unaware of his own charms only enhanced that attractiveness. James had always been rather full of himself, one of the things that Lily had found abhorrent for so long, much to Severus's younger self's delight.

Harry squirmed a little under the intensity of Snape's inspection. He definitely needed to get them back on track. He cleared his throat. "So, anyway, why did Professor McGonagall bring up the O.W.L results with you?"

"Because though you passed your Potions OWL well, it was not a good enough result to meet my requirements."

Harry's heart sank. "Oh. So that's that, then?"

Severus took a deep breath. "I am aware...more than aware, that I did all in my power to turn your Potions' lessons into a less than conducive environment for learning. Our mutual Potions experiences have been the equivalent of hell on Earth, and I would like to give you a chance to really show me what you can do."

Harry sat stunned, his green eyes huge in his pinched face.

"Do you like Potions, Harry?" When Harry looked even more incredulous, Severus waved a hand through the air as if to erase his foolish choice of words. "I should have said, ‘do you think that you would have liked potions had you not been subjected to a relentless barrage of verbal and mental abuse?"

Now Harry looked embarrassed. He felt compelled to say something to alleviate his father's self-disgust. He looked down and poked an agitated forefinger at the moist crumbs littering his plate. "It wasn't that bad," he mumbled. "I could have put in more effort.'

"Why would you have bothered when everything that you did was shot down in flames? Do not make excuses for me, Harry. My behaviour was appalling and had you been any other student, you would have reported my systematic abuse to Professor Dumbledore. But you have a strict code of honour that would never permit you to share your problems with anyone else. You have to be self-sufficient."

"I had to be self-sufficient," replied Harry, his eyes fixed resolutely on his busy finger. "I had no-one to complain to at the Dursleys. I only had myself to rely on."

"And old habits die hard," said Severus with a sigh. "You will not have to rely on only yourself any longer, Harry," he added, leaning over the table and placing his hand over the back of Harry's and squeezing lightly to stop his agitated movements.

Harry looked up. He and father stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Harry's heart swelled with what he saw in the black eyes...a mixture of warmth and regret. His battered soul revelled in both and he knew that he would never get enough of this approbation. The fact of it being the very antithesis of every interaction he had ever had with Severus Snape before, was what made that warmth and regret so important to him. Harry would always want the warmth, but he no longer wanted to see the regret. The past was the past.

Harry smiled and turned his hand around and squeezed his father's. His own eyes were alight with an emotion that was more than mere affection. Harry did not know how it had happened so quickly...maybe it made him appear needy, but he knew that gratitude had turned to acceptance, which had turned to affection, and mere affection had somehow, miraculously, turned to love. And all in the space of less than a month. Ron would definitely think he had lost his marbles if he realised that Harry not only accepted Severus Snape as his father, but that he loved the man.

His feelings towards this man had never been indifferent; it had always taken up all his energy to sustain the degree of antipathy that he had told himself he felt for Snape. The energy had created a vortex and Harry's emotions had been battered about inside that vortex. He remembered the confusion that he had felt when he had found out in first year that his most hated teacher had been looking out for his safety...had actually saved his life. When that had been thrown into the wildly swirling hurricane, confusion had as often dominated his thoughts of Severus Snape as outright hatred.

The point was, his emotions had always been in a state of upheaval when it came to the man. He had always told himself that he hated Snape with a passion. But that had not really been the case. If it had been, he would have sneered at the treatment he had seen James Potter and Sirius dole out in that pensieved memory. Instead, he had felt distress and anger. He had thought that the distress was because James had been toppled from his pedestal, but that had not been the whole truth. He had been distressed for Snape; his throat had clogged up with emotion every time he had thought about the man's humiliation.

He had blamed Snape for Sirius's death, but that had been because he had not wanted to blame himself. He had not really needed Professor Dumbledore to tell him that Snape had done everything in his power to check that Sirius was at Grimmauld place and to try to keep him there. With his absolute devastation at Sirius's death, Harry had found it easy to lay blame.

The fact was, after Sirius's death, Harry had been a total wreck. His performance in Dumbledore's office the day he had been poisoned was proof of that, and yet, even amidst all the verbal abuse he had heaped on his Potions Professor's head, Professor Dumbledore had told him that Severus had been the first to realise that something was wrong, and because of this, his speedy removal to the dungeon laboratory had probably been one of the factors that had helped save his life.

No, considering everything that he and Severus had been through during the last five years, Harry was not shocked to realise that his buffeted emotions had so rapidly settled on love. The genuine warmth in the eyes now staring into his, could not help but engender love in Harry's heart and mind. He knew that his father was going to be there for him now as much in spirit as he had always been in reality.

Harry did not know whether his dad had quite gotten to the stage of loving yet, or at least, whether he would be willing to admit to any such emotion. After all, Severus Snape's life had been no picnic either and he had a lot more years of misery to erase than Harry did, and many more prejudices. But he would get there, Harry was sure of that now. It wasn't as though the emotion was entirely unknown to the man. He had known his mother's and grandmother's love even as he had loved them. And he had had Lily's love up to a certain point.

Severus cleared his throat and gently extricated his hand from Harry's. "So," he said in a slightly husky voice, "do you think that you would have liked Potions given the opportunity?"

"I looked forward to that first Potions lesson," said Harry, perfectly truthfully. "So yes, I think I would have enjoyed Potions. But I deliberately cut off my own nose to spite my face by not trying very hard after things...well after things started out so badly. It was as if I thought that I might be hurting you if I didn't make much of an effort."

Severus shook his head, his eyes full of regret. "I have to be perfectly truthful, Harry as you have. Your lack of effort just cemented my opinion of your being a lazy, incompetent wizard who was planning on using his fame and his Quidditch skills to propel him into the future. I felt vindicated in thinking that you were going to quite happily waste your life, depleting your family fortune and flying on a broom above a Quidditch pitch to enhance your already ill-deserved place in wizarding history.

Harry couldn't help but look disappointed and when he would have lowered his eyes, Severus reached out and propped Harry's chin on a finger, making him maintain eye contact. "And that, Harry, is the very height of how blind a man can be. I revelled in those feelings of superiority. I knew I was a better man than you would ever be because I had a serious job and I was doing something that was incalculably important to the Order.

"I chose to forget about my own catastrophic choices when I was only a little older than you are now. Choices that I knew without thought, that the rich, idle and questionably intelligent Quidditch player would never make because I knew, deep down, that he had so much more integrity and caring in his little finger than Severus Snape had in the whole of his body.

"I used to live with two great regrets in my life, Harry. One: that I did not make peace with my cousin when it was my mother's heart's desire that I do so. Two: that I let your mother down by allowing a madman to draw me in to participate in his grand plan for the wizarding world and to brand me to make me his own...the very thing that made me realise that the Dark Lord's plan was all about his own self-aggrandisement, and not about the maintaining of the essence of the wizarding world as we knew it.

"But I now have a third regret: that I treated the son of my cousin with the same disdain that I had treated his father, despite my already deep-rooted regret for not having eased my mother's mind...because it had become habit to disdain anything Potter." Black eyes bore into Harry's emotional green ones.

"As I said before, Harry, old habits die hard. I have a lot of things that I will never be able to forgive myself for...my treatment of you, an innocent child being abused by a supposedly intelligent adult, is the one I most regret."

Harry tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, but it was impossible and his eyes filled with tears that welled so fast, they had overflowed before he could swipe them away."

"Do you think," asked Harry in a croaky voice, "that we can maybe forget the regrets and get on with the rest of our lives?"

Severus watched as Harry frantically scrubbed at his cheeks and eyes, and then he smiled. The smile said it all...so much more than words because it was such a rare sight.

"My thoughts exactly. And in that vein, without any further prevarication, I will tell you that I have brought you here today to take a makeup practical potions exam."

Harry sniffed and took the handkerchief that his father held out to wipe his nose. "A make-up exam? But I haven't studied for anything."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I now know that you are not that questionably-intelligent Quidditch player that I so foolishly spent the last five years denigrating you as, Harry; I know that you have taken in a lot more than you have shown me that you are capable of. I know that you will handle N.E.W.T Potions with relative ease, if you want to, that is. Do you want to take the exam, or not?"

Harry was nodding before Severus had finished speaking and Severus held up a hand to curb his enthusiasm a little. "Before we go any further though Harry, you must promise me that you will not tell any of your friends. I know I am asking you to keep another secret, but I do know that you would have easily obtained an outstanding O.W.L if I had allowed your talent free rein."

After a few seconds of hesitation, Harry nodded. "I promise," he said. "This won't be a problem. If you don't tell me how I do, my result will still be a surprise when the owls do come with our results. I can be surprised." He grimaced. "I hope."

"I have complete faith in you." Harry's face radiated joy again, and Severus shook his head helplessly.

"Now, if you have finished mutilating that piece of cake, follow me."

8888

It was three hours later, just before dinner time, that Severus Apparated into the Burrow's backyard with Harry clamped to his side. He once again wondered at his son's inability to tolerate any form of magical travel other than a broomstick, as he hung on to Harry's arm until he re-orientated himself. That was taking a long time and instead of beginning to look better, every vestige of colour had drained from his face and he was obviously trying to take in great lung-fulls of air to try and stop himself from vomiting.

Severus had thought that after so long spent in the lab, a walk down to the gate would do them both good. That had, but the Apparition had not. Severus realised, belatedly, that Harry had never side-along Apparated before whilst conscious.

The back door crashed open and two Weasleys and a Granger spilled out into the yard, only to slow their advancement upon their friend when they saw Severus holding Harry up. But when the inevitable happened and Harry's stomach turned over and Severus bent him over his arm so that he could purge himself, the smallest of the trio separated from the other two and ran towards them.

If she found Severus's solicitousness unusual, she made no comment as she placed her hand on Harry's convulsing back and rubbed comforting circles. She looked at Severus, concern the only emotion in her eyes. "What happened, Professor?"

"Your boyfriend does not travel very well unless on a broom Miss Weasley. As he is rather averse to the Floo, I thought that Apparating here might be the better of two evils...but apparently not."

Ron and Hermione had advanced a little further and were both standing, looking wary and worried. Severus decided he had best make himself scarce. Harry was leaning against his chest now, apologising and wiping his mouth with the handkerchief that Severus had given him earlier. "Weasley, Miss Granger. Come and assist your friend back to the house."

Hermione darted forward immediately and Ron was close behind. Hermione insinuated herself between Harry and Severus and managed to hook an arm around Harry's waist. Of course, he objected strongly to being made such a fuss of, now that his stomach had returned to its normal position in his abdominal cavity.

"I'm OK." He tried to lift his arm from around Ginny's shoulders and extricate himself from Hermione's tenacious hold, but neither girl would have a bar of his bid for independence.

"I need a quick word with your mother, Weasley," Severus said to Ron, who was standing, watching Harry struggling to free himself from his two female captors, and looking as useless as a cheese cauldron.

"Weasley!" barked Severus and Ron startled, looked at him with trepidation. "Where is your mother?"

"Erm, in the kitchen, I think. At least she was a minute ago."

Severus stalked past the gormless boy. "And get your arse into gear boy and go and assist your friends!" He threw the command over his shoulder even as he saw the girls were herding Harry towards the house.

By the time Severus had relayed his message to Molly and was preparing to take his leave, the kids had appeared in the kitchen. Severus was relieved to see that Harry was now walking unaided and looking more than a little sheepish.

Molly darted towards Harry and simultaneously managed to pull him into a hug and pull out a chair to push him down into it. Severus had informed her that Harry had been sick, but that it was just the result of Apparition and that his tests had all been satisfactory.

As the three sidekicks pulled out seats around the table and Molly bustled to the stove to put the kettle on and prepare the universal panacea for the world's ills, Severus caught Harry's eye and raised an eyebrow.

"Are you over your little upset, Potter?" he asked in the bored voice he had perfected when showing his disdain.

"I'll survive, sir," answered Harry, looking away and squeezing the small hand that had just slipped into his on top of the table.

"Well, as everyone else is of the opinion that that is a good thing, I think I will just remain quiet."

Harry's  eyes were riveted on his and Ginny's joined hands. "Whatever," he said bitterly. He didn't have to try very hard to come up with bitterness. He heard his father leave the room and exit the back door.

"Wanker," muttered Ron so that his mother couldn't hear over the clattering of crockery. Hermione, her own eyes riveted on Harry's taut face, admonished him in her stead. Ron looked outraged.

"Well, he is Hermione. Can't he give Harry a break?"

"Drop it Ron," reiterated Ginny. "Harry doesn't need anymore grief. We all know that you don't like Professor Snape, but just shut up about it or I'll hex you five ways to Christmas."

"Ginevra Weasley, you most certainly will not hex your brother, and if you threaten to do any such thing again, I will confiscate your wand for the rest of the holidays. Is that clear, young lady?"

"Yes, Mum," said Ginny, totally unabashed. She grinned at Harry, then released his hand to pour him a mug of tea.

"Are you really feeling better, Harry?" asked Hermione. Harry just nodded and sipped his tea. "What did he have to do today that took so long?"

"Just some more tests, Hermione," said Harry, his voice as disinterested as he could make it. "My liver was badly affected by that poison and Snape just has to keep on checking that it's still functioning properly."

"He seems to have to do that a lot," said Hermione, her head to the side studying Harry's averted face. Harry looked at her, his gaze direct.

"He saved my life Hermione. As much as it peeves me to have him poking and prodding, I'm not about to kick up a stink about it. If Snape says he has to keep on checking my liver function, then I'm not about to argue the point."

"Well, you can't really, can you? Still, I can't figure out why he has to do it so often, or why it takes so long."

Ginny looked annoyed. "Are you a healer, Hermione?"

Hermione frowned. "No, but..."

"And have you a hankering to direct your considerable talents in that direction?" asked Ginny.

"No, but Ginny..."

"And do you know much about the workings of the liver?"

"Ginny..."

"Then stop trying to find a mystery where there isn't one."

"OK guys," said Harry, standing up. "Can we just not talk about this anymore? If Snape says I'm to go with him, then I go. Professor Dumbledore has put him in charge of me for the time being."

The two girls looked at each other as if they each would like to argue more but neither wanted to push Harry's buttons anymore.

"Mate," said Ron, shaking his head sympathetically. He and the girls followed Harry into the living-room, Ron with his mug of tea still in hand. "This has to rank as one of your worst summers."

Harry threw himself down on the sofa, where he leaned over to pull the chess board towards him. "Nearly dying sure wasn't a highlight of my life, but it's not as if I'm not used to being someone or others' target. As for Snape, he does what he has to do and then he ignores me until he has time to bring me back here. I'm not allowed to even Floo without a bodyguard."

The three of them stared at Harry from their superior heights because they were still standing. "I don't want to talk about Snape, or my bloody liver anymore. I just want to have a few days of peace before I get poked and prodded again. So park it Ron, and beat me at a game of chess."

Ron grinned and planted himself across from Harry in an armchair. Hermione sat on the arm of his chair and Ginny snuggled up to Harry on the sofa. Ron won three games against Harry and two games against Ginny, though she got closer to knocking Ron off his pedestal than HArry had done.

Harry spent the next two days relaxing and laughing and enjoying a continuous burst of warm weather. He and Ginny even had a bit of alone time to get a little closer, and that certainly made this trip to the Burrow an even more memorable and enjoyable time than all of the other times put together. Ginny helped keep Harry's mind off of Hermione's suspicions and off of Ron's Snape insults. And she made it possible for Harry to not dwell on thoughts of his new father for hours at a time.