Harry had just finished his shower and dressed when he stepped towards the mirror. He wiped it with his hand so he could see his reflection and sighed at his appearance. His messy hair that he could never control, his emerald eyes peering through his round glasses and his flushed face that was still a bit wet from his shower.

On numerous occasions, people have described him as being "just like James" his in looks but with Lily's eyes. Even Snape seemed to see him more as his birth father (since when did he call James that?) as he constantly barked at him for being arrogant and lazy, although Harry didn't really think that he was at all.

Looks could certainly be deceiving and it wasn't just involving Harry either. Hadn't he previously thought of Snape as a mean, dark dungeon bat? The way his cloak swished as he walked and the certain dislike that was expressed in his face? His sort-of greasy hair (although he noticed that it was less that way over the holidays...hm), and his mostly blank appearance as well as the snarl in his tone...he was a man that no one wished to be in trouble with or be approached by.

Until now, it never occured to Harry that perhaps that was simply and image that Snape put up for in the recent few days he was starting to think that there was a man buried in there; one with feelings and dreams.

Harry watched as the mirror began to fog up again and sighed. He ran his towl through his hair once more before attempting to flatten and control it. He gave up and made his way downstairs, wiping his glasses on his shirt as he did so.

Snape heard the boy enter and glanced over at him but was caught suspecting as Harry glanced up with his glasses in his hands and stared at him with his very Lily-like expression. Without those Potter-reminding glasses, Snape noticed that Harry had Lily's high cheekbones and kind but equally curious gaze. He wasn't sure if it made anything easier or harder, but for the first time since he had been fifteen...he saw Lily's eyes clearly as they stared into his without any real emotion but in simple softness.

"So um...what are we having?" Harry asked awkwardly as he placed his glasses back over his green eyes and pushed them into place atop his nose. His words were still fresh in his mind and he was certain that Snape had heard them clearly, which now he wished he had fallen deaf to for everything felt new and awkward once again...right when he'd felt that they'd been making some progress.

"Roast" Snape replied siomply but kept his back turned on Harry as he busied himself with dinner although it was actually ready to be placed on the table and eaten. He wanted to delay looking at the boy for just a few more minutes so he could gather himself.

"Great" Harry attempted a smile as Snape finally turned around and the plates, food etc hovered over onto the table and the man sat across from him.

"Look um, sir..." He sighed as a wave of unsettling silence washed over them and he felt the need to hush over what he'd called the man earlier.

"About before...when I called you, well...you know?" He mumbled and Snape had to stare at him in order to keep up with what he was saying but decided not to say anything about it just yet.

"I didn't mean it, well actually it was more like..." Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance for he couldn't make sense of what he was trying to say or even how exactly to discuss it with Snape.

"You are making no sense, Mr Potter" Snape sighed, looking unnaturally tired as he spoke and lowered his gaze to his plate that was now relatively piled with food.

"Sorry, I just don't know how to explain what happened" Harry stared at his lap, feeling embarrassed more than ever now. "It sort of...slipped out."

"Not everyone is so finely tuned with your stuttering, Potter" Snape said. "Just what exactly "slipped out" as you described it?" He questioned, wanting the boy to admit to what he'd called him if for no reason other than to convince him that he hadn't been hearing things before.

"You know what!" Harry said in agitation and squirmed in his seat slightly before taking a gulp of courage and spat it out. "I...I called you...dad" He uttered the last word as a barely-audible whisper.

"Hm" Snape nodded and pushed his plate away slightly, plucking up his own courage to stare right at Harry, instead of looking at anything but those eyes as he so desperately wanted not to do.

"I haven't the slightest idea as to why you would even wish to call me by such a title" Snape began and Harry glanced up as he listened carefully to each word he spoke slowly.

"However, regardless of your misplace desire to verbally acknowledge our new arrangement, I believe that it would be unwise to do so" He nodded and Harry looked a bit confused if not slightly disapointed as well.

"I have agreed to this unfortunate but not entirely bothersome position...but you must not forget that such an arrangement is not bound by neither a legal nor magical contract" Snape stared right at the boy now, as though he was trying to read his mind...that's what it appeared to Harry although the man was actually simply trying to make his point clear.

"In most sense...I am not in any way -apart from our agreement- your father" Snape said firmly and Harry's head bowed slightly to those words as if he had been stricken.

"But I thought..." Harry tried to make things a bit more clear since Snape was once again over-phrasing everything and making it harder for him to find a loophole or understand his intentions fully.

"You thought what, Mr Potter?" Snape asked as Harry didn't say anything else for a moment.

"I...well you..." Harry let out a heavy sigh and stared up at the man, failing to mask his disapointment now and Snape saw it clearly although he gave no visable reaction to it.

"Why not?" He asked instead, staring into the darker eyes that met his own emerald ones.

Snape frowned at that question and bit back his insults about the boy missing the obvious or being annoying while trying to work out what to say for the answer wasn't really obvious at all.

Severus Snape was a man and wizard who hid away his emotions, who kept all his secrets guarded and mysterious...he didn't coddle children and in fact didn't like the youngesters at all. He always had an answer, he always had something to reply with...and yet he was stumped. He had defenses that could withstand even Voldemort's prying and destuction and yet all it took was two words to bring them down... "Why not?".

"The food is getting cold" Snape heard himself answering, as though his mouth and expression always went to self-preservation and defensive on their own now.

"I no longer wish to discuss this at the present time" He added and seeing no other option; Harry went quiet.

The air at the dinner table had been rather tense after that so each were glad when the food was gone and they were heading to their own rooms for bed.

Harry lay awake for hours, pondering on Snape's words and how when he'd asked his last question...the man had a flicker of something in his eyes that Harry thought had been confusion. He held onto that, because it meant that there was still a chance to keep his imagination that he had a parent now, a real parent that cared about him and was watching out for him.

--

But in the room down the hall, Snape was very much awake even long after the point where Harry had finalyl fallen into a slumber.

Why not? That's what Harry had asked and Snape had no answer for it. He had no long phrases and descriptions that were correct in which he could back his decision or starement up with. He had no reasoning for why things could not be different.

Sure, there was the fact that he was a spy against Voldemort for Dumbledore but the boy didn't know that nor would it be a wise idea to inform him just yet. That was probably Snape's real reason for not being able to answer the question directly for it was an important factor to consider. But surely there could be a way around that? It was just another secret to keep, wasn't it?

Snape sighed and sat on the edge of his bed, still dressed for he hadn't taken a shower or done anything after dinner other than shutting himself in his room to think and pace the room.

He was a spy, he couldn't overlook that fact...but he'd already agreed to be the boy's "father" so what difference did it make if it was official or not?

Blood adoption would be too big a step forward at this point, besides it also involved the Ministry and such...something that would result in the entire Wizarding world to know about and that would not end well for anyone.

Claiming guardianship would be too risky as well. It was less obvious and dramatic as the blood adoption but still went through the Ministry and could put them both in tough situations with Death Eaters or one day even Voldemort himself for Snape could be ordered to take the boy to him. What a way that would be to end his services as a spy or even his life.

Of course, there was one other option. One that few knew of but being the great Potions Master that Snape was...he knew of its existance clearly. The Parental Bonding Potion. A tricky to make and lengthy, time-consuming process that it would involve and yet it was in some way...perfect. 

The useage of such potion would not require Ministry approval for it only called for a witness, in which would be where Dumbledore be of assistance.

Snape swept off his feet and stode out of his bedroom, down the stairs and paused at a sudden halt in his sitting room. How ironic, that the book with all the information and instructions had been right under their noses the entire time.

He pulled the thick, dusty, leather-bound book from the shelf as though it was delicate and could break when he read it. Snape sat on the nearest armchair and flipped through the aged pages carefully, scanning each title and description headline as he browsed. Finally, he came to a halt and eyed the page hungrily for it seemed jsut too perfect.

But that was when he placed the book out of his reach on the small coffee table and growled to himself.

For years of living under his horrid, drunken and violent father followed by years of torment from the Marauders have taught him that if something was good and seemingly flawless...it was most likely too good for him.

He never had such good luck. He never had periods of happiness...only acomplishment and relief. If he aimed for something or someone that he desired or cared deeply for than it would most likely to be cruely snatched from his grasp. Snape couldn't count how many times life had played this sickening game with him, but it never seemed to end and the higher powers involved in his twisted, unfortunate journey that was his life, have never been known to show mercy.

And yet it was as though the book was crying out to him. Which was ridiculous to Snape for the house was silent, too silent for such a thing...and yet he could almost hear the words ringing from the pages and into his stubborn, miserable mind:

"This is possible. You can have this small thing. Take a chance, Severus. Maybe your luck starts now?".

Snape shook his head, ignoring his hair as he flicked about his face, and got to his feet so he could pace the room. It was what he always did when his thoughts were contradicting his surroundings.

Part of him wanted to put the book back on the shelf, leave it where it belonged and listened to all sensible reasoning that was fighting the other luring thoughts. And that part...it wanted him to do this more than he could recall ever wanting anything...perhaps even Lily. But that wasn't true, nothing could over-ride his love for Lily, but at that particular moment it felt as though that statement was untrue.

Snape wanted to collapse to his knees, bow his head and cry out for it was infuriating to not know which path to take for he had always know which option was for his choosing and where he was to end up.

He wanted to have a son, a family and someone to love him in return...and yet something was trying to convince him otherwise and reason with him of the dangers involved with such a choice.

But seconds later...someone did cry out but it wasn't Snape.

The man froze and clutched his wand from the insides of his robes until he realised that Harry was having another nightmare only this one sounded quite a bit worst than the previous one.

Without another thought on the now-forgotten book, Snape rushed up the stairs and swept into the boy's room to see him sweating and clawing at his sheets.

"Harry" Snape said, taking a cautious step forward but his voice went to deaf ears.

 He reached for the boy but winced as a white-hot pain cursed through his left arm, causing him to withdraw it and clutching it in agony as well as surprise. Surely Voldemort wasn't back? It felt as it had before but while Snape panicked about leaving Harry and being relatively unprepared...the moment passed and the Dark Mark faded once again.

It was then that Snape noticed how calm Harry was once again, even if his scar looked mildly different for a moment. Was the boy effected by Voldemort as he was? Did they have something in common besides their love for Lily and their need for a family they belong to?

Snape sighed and moved his head to flick some hair out of his face and summoned a nearby chair to sink into it beside the bed.

He dried Harry's forehead and pillow by waving his wand but made no more efforts to touch the boy.

He looked so innocent. Snape thought as he stared at the sleeping tweleve-year-old before him as all his previous thoughts and undecided concerns came flooding back to him and hung his head in defeat. He accepted the fact that he didn't know where to go from here, he realised that they both wanted a family member in their lives and Snape knew that this was too big for just him. Should he discuss it with Harry? No, that would bring false hope. Perhaps Dumbledore? Well he would anyway so that was a place to start.

Snape got to his feet and eyed the boy for a moment longer before turning to stand in the doorway as he felt ashamed of the way he'd treated him the previous year simply because of his deceiving appearance as James Potter. He even felt a bit guilty that he'd only ever cared about him at all because he was Lily's child.

But now he cared about Harry for who he was, for what he was...his son. Even if it wasn't by blood or Ministry approval, Harry was his son and nothing was going to change that. Except for the fact that in equal quanity...he was also not his son to claim, raise and nurture.

It was confusing and frustrating, in which was exactly why Snape hated every second he endured since the boy had uttered those two single words...why not?