1994

“Severin Harrison Tiberius Snape!” Harry repeated the name.

Severus was shaken out of his memories once again when the boy spoke. Dear Merlin, how could he have been so blind? How could he have not seen what was literally staring at him in the face? All the times he had known there was something about the boy that had not set right with him.

“Severin?” Harry cried in dismay.

How could Dumbledore have done this to him? The old man was supposed to be Severus’s mentor, his friend! Why would the old man do something like this to him? Was it something that he had done? Had the Headmaster thought Severus had done something to warrant the breaking of his family? But then why would he risk Lily’s happiness too?

“Tiberius?” the boy wailed again, bringing Severus out of his thoughts.

“And what’s wrong with that name?” Snape snapped, surprising even himself with the comment. Secretly, although the name was unnerving at the moment with its similarities to his own, Severus found the name was flattering and showed just how much Lily had missed him. But now, the Potions Master was saddened by the fact that the name had not reflected more on her side.

Harry sat gawking at his professor as though he were daft. “Seriously?” was the only word he could get out.

Unable to look at the boy’s face, Severus turned his attention back to Lily’s belongings while wrapping his robes around himself, as much for warmth as for security. Yes, all the papers were scattered about thanks to Potter… er, Harry…Severin? “This is ludicrous,” the Potions Master sighed.

But what captured Severus’s attention once more, were the small bottles that contained Lily’s memories. As though afraid they would disintegrate, the wizard took up the vials carefully to read each label. In neat, purple writing, were the titles of each memory, as printed by Lily; titles like “Harry’s birth”, “Harry’s First Bath”, and of course, “Harry’s First Steps.” But there were also several that caused the Potions Master to freeze. Along with the memories of the boy’s first year of life, were older ones. “Summer ‘68”, “Hogwarts: First Year”, and even memories of her wedding day- his wedding day- and their several months of marriage bliss together.

Not trusting himself with the glass anymore, Severus put the bottles down, and hid his hands within his robes to hide their shaking. He did not want to look up at Petunia or Harry, who he hoped fervently were not watching him. He could not handle their judgment right now.

Harry, on the other hand, could not quite get over his sudden change in name. What had his mother been thinking? Of Snape, apparently, he thought darkly.

Peeking a glance over at the professor, Harry found that he could not really see the man’s face. The black hair hung limply in the man’s face, shielding his expression form the world. But if the young wizard could have guess, he would have thought that Snape was just staring at the table. What was there that was so interesting?

The room remained silent for a long time, neither wizard seemed prone to talk, and Petunia, who had remained forgotten for a bit, finally sat down at the table with her nephew and peer. She actually gave Harry a concerned glimpse before she let her gaze fall back to the objects at the table. Gently, the woman picked up an old leather covered journal. Harry watched, as did Snape, secretly, as the journal rested in his aunt’s hands. There was a ribbon hanging down, a Slytherin green ribbon. The boy blanched.

“This can’t be real,” he shook his head.

“Be quiet, boy,” Severus growled at the younger wizard, his own nerves quite frayed and his interest in the journal peaked. “What is that?” he asked once he was sure Harry would not be giving anymore whining commentary.

“This,” Petunia said, opening the cover and taking out an envelope, “is Lily’s journal. And this,” she indicated to the envelope, “is a letter she wanted you to have, Harry.”

The younger wizard took the offered envelope, his hands shaking slightly. Could he handle anymore of this today? What else might this change? Perhaps it informed him that Merlin was going to be back in town for a week or so? Or maybe Professor McGonagall was actually his long lost sister?

Taking the letter, Harry set it down before him, planning to read it later. As of right now, he did not want to give himself a heart attack. He was unnerved when he realized Professor Snape was staring at him, his black eyes glinting with unknown thoughts, his face impassive once more. For just the wildest moment, Harry thought the man might actually bolt, and jump out the window. But that was not like Snape at all. This man did not run away from things...right?

“This journal,” Petunia went on after a moment for her nephew to adjust to a new topic, “is for you, Severus,” she held out the little book.

The Potions Master raised an eyebrow, but took the book from Petunia’s hand. Harry noticed a look he would have classified as terror, cross Snape's face, but it was gone almost instantly. With his long fingers, Severus delicately opened the cover. His face was impenetrable as his eyes scanned the page, apparently reading what must have been written. As he watched, the boy noticed that the older wizard’s lip twitched several times before stilling again. Was he angry, or was it something else?

“I suppose you want to know what exactly happened?” the Potions Master’s voice startled both the boy and his aunt. When the master wizard’s eyes looked up, the Harry felt as though he were trapped in some sort of icy prison.

The young wizard shifted uncomfortably under his teacher’s heavy gaze, wishing Snape would at least blink. “I, um, suppose I, uh, do?” Brilliant Harry! Now he thinks you’re an even bigger idiot! But why did Harry care?

Snapping the journal closed with an audible click, the blank face of Severus Snape regarded the child across from him carefully. Harry thought he was going to go mad with wondering what was going through the other man’s head. “Well then,” the man’s voice was a curious silk that ran over his audience’s ears easily. “It would appear that I was married to Lily for a duration of six months before…before the Headmaster saw it fit to… separate us. I had no memory of this before today.”

Harry’s mouth hung wide open. “Wait a minute! Dumbledore? You’re trying to tell me that this is all Dumbledore’s fault? That’s like saying Father Christmas goes out every year to kill little kids!”

Snape actually snorted at the image. “The Headmaster is a manipulative old fool that should stay out of everyone’s lives!” At last, the anger had come back. Unfortunately, it was hotter than Harry thought he could handle for the time being.

“So none of this is a joke then? It’s not a dream?” Harry turned pleading eyes upon his aunt, whose lips were a thin line. She merely shook her head “no.”

“What, in all of this, makes you think this is a joke?” Snape barked, temper ignited. “This, unfortunately, is not a dream, nor a nightmare, but simple fact.”

Again, the two wizards locked eyes, and Harry was startled to see a ferociousness in the obsidian that was not only anger, but something else… something almost protective, something that had not been in them before. Was the professor alright with all of this? Was he just going to sit here and accept everything they had been told? But what else could they do? Or was the panicked look in the man's eyes an indication of his next move? 

“S-Severus?” Petunia broke Snape’s eyes away form Harry, and silently the boy thanked his aunt. He did not like being under the other man’s eyes that long. “What happened to you? Why are you here?”

The Potions Master scowled as though he had a bad taste in his mouth, and Harry watched as his professor straightened up in his chair a bit more. “I made a choice and I suffered the consequences,” Snape replied flatly. “I am only sorry to report that now I am also being hunted by every dark wizard in Britain, the same as your nephew.”

“You?” Harry’s eyes widened. “Why? What did you do?”

It seemed Snape had to bite back a sarcastic remark when he glared at his student, but he held in whatever he was going to say, in favor of turning away to think a moment. “Yes, Potter…” he frowned at the name. “However, why and what I’ve done is hardly your concern,” he gave another stern glare. “All I know is that when I am able, I must leave, as my presence here is endangering all of you.”

Petunia squeaked. “Well…how considerate of you,” she said bitterly. "Why did you even come here at all then?"

Standing up abruptly, Severus took out his wand and waved it around, muttering some spells under his breath. Instantly, all of the glass, and anything else that had been broken before, was now fixed and just as neat as it had been. Glaring down at the two people seated, the Potions Master, with another flick of his wand, sent Lily’s possession back into their little box, save for the letter Harry had under his hand. Snatching up the box, holding it in his good hand, Severus turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Harry stood up, his chair falling backwards.

The man remained silent, but he stalked out of the kitchen and down the hall. They did not want him here? Fine, he would leave! Severus did not want to stay in Petunia’s house anyway. He did not want to be in the same house as Potter!

But he’s not Potter, he’s a Snape! Severus’s mind whirled at the thought.

What was he going to do? He did not want to stay here, it was crushing him. But he had nowhere else to go! Spinner’s End was swarming with Death Eaters by now and he was still not well enough to fight his way into Hogwarts. Perhaps he could go and rent some sort of flat somewhere, in a Muggle neighborhood? No self-respecting pureblood would go into a Muggle town without a specific purpose. And Severus had been raised mostly Muggle, so he could blend in without too much trouble.

“Professor,” it was like Harry had suddenly appeared before him, causing Severus to blink in surprise before he was able to scowl. “Professor, where are you going?” the boy asked, his emerald eyes sparkling.

Damn! Why, in all the genetic combination possibilities, did this child have to have Lily’s eyes? It would be so much easier to forget, so much easier to run if this boy did not have those wretchedly beautiful eyes! He did not want to be anything but a teacher to this child. He did not want to be a mentor, let alone a father. It was too much, too soon. He was not ready! He did not want…

But did he want it all? He had dreamed about a family once, when he had been younger. He had dreamed of having Lily as his wife, dreamed about starting a family. Severus had even promised, before he was able to have children, that he would never be the man his father had been. That he would never treat any child the way Tobias had treated him.

So what now? He was running away from the child that he had wanted; from the boy he had held as a baby and coveted so fiercely he had thought his heart would give out. Running was the coward's way out, the way Tobias would have chosen. Had Severus not been the one to tell Harry only a few moments ago that this was not a dream? That this was real? Then what gave him the right to flee from the awkwardness of the situation?

“Upstairs,” the Potions Master said after a moment, avoiding the pleading green eyes. “I’m…tired,” he admitted.

Harry frowned at the older wizard, but nodded and stepped out of the way. He watched as, very slowly, Snape went up the stairs, noticing that the man kept a tight grip on the handrail. What had that all been about? He had thought for a moment that the professor was going to leave.

But then why did he care if Snape left? The man was nasty and greasy and…Your father, Harry’s mind filled in. Had the Potions Master wanted to leave? Had the man decided that he had not wanted a son?

Although there were still three years of dislike and distrust between them, Harry could not help but feel betrayed. This man was supposed to be his father, right? Why hadn’t he hugged Harry? Why hadn’t he apologized for all of the times he had been unfair? Why hadn’t he been happy? It never occured to the boy at that moment that he would not have wanted his most hated professor hugging him, or the fact that perhaps it would have been too much.

Sitting on a step, the young wizard sighed sadly. He knew why the professor did not do anything but stare, it was because he hated Harry. Even after supposedly remembering happier memories, the man still displayed nothing short of disgust at the situation. Snape’s calm, collected front back there had only been a mask to cover his contempt. Harry had seen it before. The simple fact of the matter was that Snape, his own father, hated him. His own father had rejected him...

At that moment, the front door opened, and Dudley walked in.