July 31, 1996
Severus Snape looked curiously at the box in front of him. From the reaction that Potter had had to the letter his parents had written him it had been quite clear to Severus that something Potter hadn’t liked had been in the letter and it had to do with him. This more than anything worried him and made him curious. James and Lily Potter had sent him something from the past and it was bound to be important.
He opened the box with care, waiting for the worst to happen. Even in death he wouldn’t underestimate James Potter and his penchant for pranks.
The box held a number of phials filled with what he recognized as memories, at least fifteen. He picked one up, looking at the label. He read it with a frown. “Month two,” he said to himself and put it back in the box, picking up another and reading it, “Month five.”
He spotted the envelope, then, with his name written directly across the middle in the neat spidery handwriting he recognized almost immediately as Lily’s.
With almost trembling hands he picked it up, weighting the heavy parchment in his hands before he opened it. He didn’t read it. Instead he set it down next to the box and stood up. He didn’t want to in essence read the letter to find something that if he were to go by Potter’s reaction would be terrible for him. But he had to know. He wouldn’t put it off like Potter had if only to be forced to read it by someone.
His hands reached for it and he picked it up, unfolding it, and then he began to read.
Severus,
It’s strange to write a letter to someone that will not be the person I know at all. Sixteen years is a long time, but even with that I cannot even begin to imagine the man you will become. Silly thoughts, I know, but as you always reminded me, this was for the best, and I can only hope that when you read this letter Voldemort has long been a part of your past. I can’t even try to picture you sixteen years from now still serving him, even if it would continue to be for the cause.
James continues to tell me this letter is a precaution so that the truth doesn’t die with us. That’s my main reason for writing this and maybe to tell you how much I hated the plan. How much I now regret agreeing to it.
Someone’s memories are precious, but know that you wanted it this way, that you came up with this plan despite how much it hurt you. I think that’s why you, such a great occlumens, asked James to obliviate your memories, so you wouldn’t be tempted by what you lost. James lied to you, you know, I was surprised that you didn’t catch on. He didn’t obliviate your memory but he took your memories and now I return them. Yes, James was your enemy, but you’ll find within those phials the memories of months upon months during which you nearly even became friends.
He respected you, Severus, truly, and I must say it was as much a surprise to me as you, but I think he always knew that what you gave us made you the better man. He wouldn’t have made done it. He was too selfish to give up something that he valued so much like you did. He’ll never say it, but I think I know him well enough to say this, James Potter was jealous of you. Why he picked you I will always wonder though I have some idea, I still doubt he’ll ever tell me.
I know I skirted the subject many times already, and I must get to the point quickly. I think if some of your mannerisms weren’t lost to time by now you’d be impatient with me. So, I’ll just write it out.
You have a son.
Now you’re probably shaking your head and denying even the possibility but still thinking about Harry whom you know to be my son. But it’s true, Severus, I wouldn’t play some prank on you like this. You have a son and he’s Harry Potter—Harry Snape.
An explanation is in order, I imagine.
To start off, I was the one that found the spell and showed it to James. We’d been trying to have a baby for months but it wasn’t really working. This spell called for a substitute. It called for someone that shared the same blood as James to impregnante me. I told James it was his choice to continue on. When he picked you I knew you’d either say no or be offended. I still loved you and James knew this. Maybe he felt our baby should still be created by love rather than because of family loyalty.
You remained around us for that time, making sure I was alright, mostly. James became almost fond of you as I’ve mentioned before. The two of you were very alike and could have interesting conversations even though some topics were far from being open for conversation between the two of you.
I was never sure how you would view Harry, but James was sure that you never wanted to be a father, and with my knowledge of you I couldn’t help but agree with this. You’d claimed before when asked the question that you were far from wishing that you could be a father. You didn’t trust yourself to not be like your father—like Tobias.
But when Harry was born you were in love.
You’re probably scoffing and rolling your eyes, especially if you know him or you’ve seen him. I will admit that he looks exactly like James, your spell might have taken even the few features he got from me in favor of James.
I will not take claim for the spell or even the plan you came up with.
When we heard about the prophecy and that it could apply to Harry, and that Voldemort was aware of Harry, we knew you’d be in danger if anyone ever found out your connection so you decided to change his appearance and then before you left to never see him again you asked James to obliviate your memories.
James took them instead and because I hated the idea of you losing such memories, and I think James might have felt the same way, we time-sent them to you, with a few things for Harry in case that something happened to James and I.
I wish I could share with you this time I have with Harry, now, that you could see how big he is, and just how wonderful this boy, your son, is.
I ask that you care for him. That you at least give him a chance. He’s your son and even though he has James, to him when he finds out that you are his father, he’d need you especially if James and I are gone. If you do not do it for me.
Lastly and I will say it again: I love you.
Yours,
Lily
P.S. The charm will wear off in six to twelve months. That in part is why I tell you this. Please look at the memories, if only to appease your curiosity.
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Dumbledore sat in Harry’s usual chair in the library when Harry entered it for his occlumency lessons that afternoon. Across from the headmaster sat Snape—his father, Harry reminded himself with something akin to disgust—glaring at the fire.
“Ah, Harry,” Dumbledore said smiling, the ever present twinkle in his eyes brighter for some reason.
“Good Afternoon, Headmaster,” Harry said, taking a seat on the chair next to Snape that usually held Snape’s stack of books which Harry saw sitting on a table in the far corner.
“Well,” Dumbledore said, with clear bluntness. “We have quite a bit to talk about, don’t we?”
Harry said nothing, but Snape spoke, “I hardly doubt anything more than the change of plans concerning the death eaters is needed.”
“Severus,” Dumbledore said in what sounded like a warning.
The potions master rolled his eyes and looked away from the other occupants of the room towards the fire.
Harry found he was smiling slightly at Snape’s actions, but wiped that off his face when he turned to look at Dumbledore.
“What exactly are we discussing?”
Dumbledore considered Snape before answering Harry, “You’ve had little time to consider the ordeal, not to mention the deaths of your relatives,” Dumbledore stated. “You are without protection, now, even here.”
“I’ll be at Hogwarts soon and then I’ll only have a couple of months afterwards for my birthday when the protection would have failed regardless.”
“You put too much faith in the castle, Harry,” Dumbledore said sadly.
“What do you suggest then, Professor?” Harry asked genuinely curious.
“I’ve been looking for a reason the wards failed before the Dursleys were killed. Sirius could not have affected the spells to that point, but something else could. Lily’s spell failing…” Dumbledore seemed to be talking to himself more than to Harry, and now stopped while he thought about something. “I’ve considered,” He said, looking intently at Snape, “if perhaps she was more connected to you as long as her spell remained intact.”
Snape spoke, then, turning to actually look at Dumbledore, “What exactly does this have to do with me?” He asked.
“You are his father,” Dumbledore stated rather bluntly.
Snape gave the headmaster a dark look and then looked away again.
“If the case is that Lily’s spell failing brought that on, then, the only thing we could do at this time is make another protection ward for you, a more permanent one. Voldemort”—Snape flinched but did not look away from the fire—“grows stronger and the war is becoming much harder to keep at bay and hidden from the muggles. He is planning something and we cannot leave you unprotected.”
Harry nodded in concession but instead of looking at Dumbledore, he looked at Snape who was still facing the fire, looking thoughtful.
“You want me to somehow offer him that protection?” Snape asked not facing either of them.
“Lily loved you.”
Snape scoffed. “That has nothing to do with anything, Albus.”
Harry shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He knew his mom had loved Snape—his father—at some point but hearing it laid out like this bothered him.
“It has everything to do with everything, dear boy,” Dumbledore said. “Lily and you had a connection. That alone will allow us to set the spell. That you are his father makes things even simpler.”
Snape stood suddenly, looked at Dumbledore and walked to stand at the other side of the room as if he was thinking something through. Harry watched him.
“If this works, then what?” Harry asked, thinking about living with the Dursleys. Would this mean living with Snape? Snape couldn’t be much worse than the Dursleys, right?
“It would mean that you will have to consider any place Professor Snape considers as home as home. In fact I would have encouraged this even if the spell were not needed. I rather think it would be best for a relationship to grow between the two of you. You are family and you will need each other in the future.”
Harry considered what Dumbledore had said. What would happen in the future when he could be easily recognized as Snape’s son? He was sure Snape would have to cease being a death eater by that point—Voldemort would see it as betrayal if he ever found out about Snape’s intrusion on Harry’s life without hurting him. And then when the public found out—Harry didn’t think he could handle even thinking about how everyone else would take it—they would want them to get along, and if they didn’t things would go from bad to worse.
Harry sighed audibly and looked at Dumbledore. “It doesn’t matter, does it? Somehow we must come to an arrangement regardless if only for the sake of the ministry.”
“Yes, Harry,” Dumbledore said sadly. “I think I will always wish things could have been different for the two of you.” Then he stood, looking at the strange watch on his wrist. “Alas, I really must get going. Severus, are you willing to do the spell?”
Snape didn’t answer.
“I will expect an answer by tonight, Severus.” Dumbledore gave the man a pointed look. “Do not disappoint me.”
It seemed to Harry, between watching the two, that Dumbledore had already decided for Snape, but he said nothing about the matter instead muttered a good-bye to Dumbledore and watched him depart via floo.
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August 2, 1996
His eyes were closed as he pressed his forehead against the cool pane of glass that made up the only window in the small nursery, looking out into a cobbled street, watching a couple strolling peacefully with a small dog that didn’t really seem to require the walk as it was attempting to lie down on the street and rest. His black eyes followed the two innocent muggles as the woman picked up the small dog and cuddled him in her arms, receiving happy buoyant licking from the canine.
Severus moved away from the window, letting the curtains fall into place. He rubbed at his forehead with the heel of his hand and then crossed the room to the wooden crib from which a baby looked towards him with interest.
“Harry,” Severus said with fondness and reached to pick of the miniscule body, cradling him in his arms. “Oh, look at you, you wonderful boy.”
Baby Harry gurgled happily, one of his arms reaching clumsily upwards as if attempting to grab something from the air.
“Silly child, I’m not James,” Severus told him as if Harry could understand perfectly well what he was saying.
Harry looked up at Severus perplexed.
“You know I love you, Harry,” Severus told his son. “Even though you do not understand me, I wish you could somehow always know that I’ll love you, but maybe that is what will make this better—your lack of knowledge. So I will talk freely, even though I am quite aware of what will happen in two days. I will have lost you from my memory.
“I can only hope that when, if, there is a moment in time when we know who and what we are to each other that then we will not lose our heads and that we can try to get this back, because at this moment I don’t know if I could live without you in my life. You are my son, even if James will be your father in that perfect way that will make it so much harder for you to allow me into your life. I’m surprised at myself, really, at this attachment, because this was always the plan. You were supposed to be his not mine, maybe it’s just you are so easy to love…”
Severus dropped a kiss on Harry’s head. “Merlin, this is harder than I imagined.”
Harry looked at him with his big green eyes as if he knew what would happen.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Severus told him. “Years from now I’ll probably hate you and I won’t even remember you trusting me so much, and you’ll probably hate me too.”
Harry moved slightly in his arms and Severus smiled at him crookedly before walking to Lily’s chair and sitting down, holding Harry close. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to forget you,” he told his son.
Harry gasped into awareness. It took him a moment to figure out where he was but then after he had processed this, he was engulfed by the vivid dream that he knew had actually happened in the past for it had been one of the memories he had viewed earlier that morning, or rather the previous morning, he realized, when he looked at his muggle wrist watch and it read, “3:12”.
Harry sat up slowly, and reached for his glasses, slipping them on while pondering if he should get out of bed and do something constructive instead of lay in bed for the next hour or so, overanalyzing the memory while still trying to figure out how he should feel about Snape after viewing what had happened in the past.
Sliding his feet out of bed, Harry wondered what he could work on before he spied the book Hermione had gotten him for his birthday. He picked it up and after finding the slippers Hermione had knitted him last winter when he had complained to her about the cold dormitory floors and having to use his shoes when he woke up in the middle of the night, Harry slipped his feet into them and then he was walking down the hall and entering the library.
The fire was blazing, with candles littering about the room. It was the first sign that someone else was in the library, but Harry either ignored that or didn’t notice as he continued onto his favorite chair, where he would curl up to read the book.
The slight coughing noise alerted Harry to the fact that he wasn’t alone, and as he looked over to the chair across from him, he almost allowed himself to groan. He just couldn’t escape the man.
“That, Potter,” Snape told him in a voice that meant he wasn’t pleased to find himself with a companion. “Is the reason that it is doubtful you will ever truly vanquish the Dark Lord.”
“Alright, then,” Harry said with a resigned expression, as he stood up once more. “I’ll be reading elsewhere.”
Snape rolled his eyes. “Sit down, Potter!” he snapped.
“Snape, isn’t it?” Harry asked.
“Forgotten who I am, have you?” Snape asked before he seemed to have garnered what Harry meant, and then he shot Harry a glare.
Harry found this almost amusing, having been on the receiving end of most of the potions master’s glares for the past five years.
“Well, it is,” Harry said.
Snape chose to ignore it. “Sit down,” He repeated instead.
Harry sat, dropping his book onto his lap. He looked at Snape—his father, he reminded himself—and waited.
“I think a drink is in order,” Snape said. “A nightcap, if you will.” He stood and walked to the other side of the room and walked back carrying two glasses filled to the rim with some sort of amber liquid.
Harry didn’t ask what it was as he took the glass and brought it to his lips, tasting it. The warmth feeling that he had recognized as coming from drinking the alcoholic drink sank into him and he looked towards the man he hated calling “father” and awaited whatever it was that Snape would tell him.
“Dumbledore and I have spoken again, just under an hour ago, in fact, and as painful as it is to even
think about sharing my home with you, Potter, he feels that it is within our abilities to get along and perhaps form some sort of working relationship.” He stopped, took a large gulp of his drink and spoke again, “I am not your father. I will not act like your father. I do not care for you, Potter, and I will not be a parent to you. James Potter was your father. I will ask only that you follow my rules while in my house and that for once you learn to listen, but nothing will change. It will be as if none of this was uncovered. You are my son in name only.”
Harry was more than ready to agree with that and nodded as he finished the drink he had been sipping at nervously.
“I can agree to that,” Harry said. “When are we going to your home?”
Snape looked as if he didn’t want to answer the question, as if he wanted to just forget about the entire world and just be left alone to mind his own business.
“Tomorrow, Potter,” He said. “Dumbledore and Lupin will be the only ones that know of your location. The spell will be cast by the three of us tomorrow morning.”
An hour later found Harry still sitting in the library, though this time the book Hermione had given him was open and he was intently reading about how while occluding it was easier to have some calming image in your mind that would at some point wind up being the wall that helped keep everything out.
Across from Harry, Snape was watching him. Harry could feel the potions master’s eyes on him but didn’t look up, continuing his reading.
“It’s late,” Snape said a moment later. “You should go to bed. There will be a lot to do tomorrow morning.”
Harry shrugged but stood up, marking his place in the book before closing it.
“Good-night,” Harry muttered and left the library.
As he got into bed a minute later, Harry couldn’t help but once more consider Severus Snape. At some point, even though he, Harry, couldn’t remember it, the man had cared about him and had known that he would at some point hate him even if at the time he had wished that it wouldn’t happen. Shaking the thought that Snape could maybe change because of the past he turned on his side and closed his eyes thoughts still mulling over his father.
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The house was normal, far too normal than what Harry had expected it to be like. He was sitting on a wooden chair that Dumbledore had conjured up when they had arrived, nibbling on a piece of toast while watching Snape, Lupin, and Dumbledore as they waved their wands around Snape’s house in strange partners.
“I think everything is in order around the house,” Snape remarked, coming to stand next to Harry. He sneered at him as he looked at the piece of toast. “Potter, I will not have you eating like a mouse in my house!” He snapped.
Harry stared at him and opened his mouth, not quite knowing how to respond. Not only had Snape rhymed but…He turned away, spotting Remus walking towards them.
“Is there anything else we need to do?” He asked the werewolf.
“No. All set.” Remus Smiled.
Harry had been wondering since he had woken up that morning, if there was more to the warding than the spells, but it seemed that nothing more than the usual process was needed.
“We should head inside,” Snape said, once Dumbledore was headed their way.
Harry stood up, still clutching his toast and watched as the chair he had been sitting on disappeared. He turned to look at Snape, but he was already walking ahead, next to Dumbledore, looking as if he was arguing about something.
Remus smiled at him and threw an arm around his shoulders, leading him towards the house.
“It’ll be fine, you know,” Remus told him. “Even if it is Severus that wound up being your father.”
Sighing, Harry looked up at the man he had believed to be his father’s best friend. He’d been surprised when Remus hadn’t changed upon learning the news of Harry true parentage.
“I don’t care, Harry,” Remus told him. “You are still you, nothing changes that. I am still as proud of you as I was when we believed you were James’ son.”
Harry smiled at the werewolf wider and Remus gave him a half-hug. “Now, come on, I’ve been dying to see the feared potions master’s digs.”
Harry laughed and walked alongside Remus to his new home.
His new home, where he would live with Snape—his father—and have what he expected to be, the strangest summer of his life.
He and Remus stepped inside the house, trailing after Snape and Dumbledore who had continued on, to a room directly next to the entrance. As Harry took in his surroundings, Remus led him to the drawing room. Dumbledore was standing by the hearth, still talking to Snape in low tones.
“I must say good-bye for this time,” Dumbledore said. “You’ll be alright here, Harry,” He said in an assuring tone towards Harry. “I shall see you later tonight, Remus to discuss your return to Hogwarts.”
Harry whirled to look at Remus. “You’re teaching again?”
“Well, it hasn’t been officially decided,” Remus said.
Harry rolled his eyes, but gave Remus a fond look. He’d loved Remus’ classes back in his third year and to have him back was great news to him. He’d always thought of Remus almost like an uncle that couldn’t always be there to help him out on things, but truly meant well.
“Defense is going to be great!” Harry exclaimed with zeal. “I mean after Umbrige last year you’ll have a lot to catch everyone up to, even with the DA.” Harry looked as if he could have continued on but stopped when Remus looking at him amused shook his head.
“I have a feeling,” Remus said. “That we’re going to have to talk a bit about those DA members of yours.”
Dumbledore who had been lingering by the fire, nodded at them and stepped into the fire shouting his destination. Harry watched the flames engulf the headmaster, and turned away to look at Snape who was sitting thoughtfully, ignoring him and Remus.
Harry shrugged and once more looked at Remus, absentmindedly bringing his toast to his mouth. It was as he did this that Snape jumped up.
“That is hardly breakfast, Potter!” He said. “Come along, now.” And then he strode out of the room.
Harry looked to Remus who was just as befuddled as he was, before following, muttering to Remus as he went, “I’m not even hungry.”
Remus doubled up in laughter as if he had found some meaning in the situation that Harry had not. Harry glared at him.
“Well, go on, if he actually starts making breakfast this would make my week.”