Snape sighed heavily as he walked the dungeon corridors. Normally, he wouldn't pace outside of his rooms, but he knew he needed fresh air. The air in his quarters were just too toxic for him right then. Sinistra's words kept echoing around in the darkness as if to drive him mad. He knew if he heard her words comparing him to his bastard father once more, he'd turn into the mass murderer everyone believed him to be. He turned the corner down a corridor he was certain was abandoned, but the quiet sounds of a quill scratching against a parchment proved his thoughts incorrect.

Blending in with the shadows, Snape stalked towards the culprit who was writing. His eyes narrowed on the soft shine of a pair of boots that stuck out from the darkness. As he walked closer, the boots quickly disappeared into the darkness of the alcove. He had a gut feeling that the person was probably one green eyed, messy-haired, and glasses wearing Gryffindor. He made sure not to look at the alcove as he walked past. It didn't take long before he heard a sigh that was familiar behind him.

Snape quickly whirled around and leapt towards the alcove. Within seconds, the young Gryffindor sprinted out of the alcove, which made Snape sigh. If the boy seriously thought that Snape hadn't seen him, then Harry was seriously in need of a new prescription for his glasses. Snape was just about to walk away when something in the alcove caught his attention. He bent down and snatched the thin black notebook. His dark eyes narrowed on it. He had never seen this particular book in Harry's collection before. He temporarily cast his thoughts away and walked with the notebook in hand back towards his rooms. It would offer a temporary distraction, which was all Snape really needed.

Salazar, who was guarding the entrance to Snape's rooms, said nothing as Snape headed towards him. The portrait of the Founder only swung open, permitting Snape to enter. It didn't take Snape too long before he sat in his favorite chair in front of the roaring fireplace. He quietly opened the notebook, not caring that he was invading the boy's privacy. After all, the Gryffindor had foolishly left it behind after running like an idiot in his failed attempt to escape punishment. Snape snorted as he thought, As if that would ever really work for you, Harry.

Flipping to the first page of the notebook, Snape instantly recognized the familiar scrawl. The handwriting wasn't as atrocious as usual, which Snape had learned over the few months meant that Harry had taken an invested interest in his little black book. Dirty secrets were sometimes the devil's playthings, which Snape knew, but he also knew that sometimes the devil's playthings saved lives. His dark eyes skimmed the opening lines of the notebook.

I know this is going to sound ridiculous if I ever find time to reread this book, but there needs to be some account of the truth. Too often people just write things about me that they think is the truth. If they knew, though, if anyone knew, they'd all just flutter away from me. Everyone I've ever loved or that has ever loved me left me some way or another. It's rather depressing if you think about it, but then again so is my entire life.

I live with my mum's sister, my uncle, and my cousin. You'd think that they'd feel compassion towards me since my parents died, but they feel everything but that. My so-called loving family told me that my parents died in a car accident for years. It is rather absurd now knowing that I believed their lies for so long, but I was just a stupid kid then.

Snape sighed heavily before skipping ahead in the journal. He could feel the poor child's sadness in the last entry. It was chilling to read. After flipping the pages, he came across a dated entry. His eyes narrowed on the entry. The entry dated the night of Harry's sorting. However, the date didn't match up in chronological order.

September 1st, 1991

This castle is huge and awesome! I've already made a friend, and his name is Ron Weasley. He's rather funny and seems somewhat shy, but he's still a friend. It has been so long since I've had anyone who was willing to talk to me without calling me a freak. I wonder if we're going to be best friends by the end of the year. He's been telling me all about wizards and such. Oh, yeah…and for my sorting, I'm a Gryffindor like him. No one knows, but the hat, I guess, gave me a choice. I kept repeated 'Not Slytherin' because some boy in my class was a real git to Ron and me. Ron also told me that there hasn't been a good Slytherin yet. It just seems like something I wouldn't want.

Snape's eyes narrowed on the second to last sentence. Leave it to Ronald Weasley to corrupt the poor boy into believing that stupid thing. There were numerous good Slytherins. After all, only a minority of Slytherins wished Harry and others ill. It wasn't as if all Slytherins joined the Death Eaters upon graduation. Snape shook his head, though. He couldn't do anything about that now.

November 9th:

SNAPE TRIED TO KILL ME!

To say that short phrase caught Snape's attention was an understatement. It was the only entry on that day, but Snape knew precisely what Harry was referring to, and yet again, the boy showed his Gryffindor colors. Snape hadn't been trying to kill him. He had been trying to save him. Could the idiot boy tell the difference, though? Of course, he couldn't. That wasn't nearly as much fun as writing in his journal that foolish claim.

December 25th:

I saw my parents…at least I think they're my parents. I honestly don't know if they are or not because no one has shown me pictures of them. I was trying to hide from Mrs. Norris and Filch when I ran across a mirror that reflected them to me. I nearly died when their reflections showed up in the mirror. They smiled and looked happy, but would people who were dead really smile about being dead, though? I had thought they'd be sad because we weren't together. Maybe my parents didn't want me…no…now that's stupid. My parents loved me…because that's what a parent is supposed to do, isn't it, to love his or her child unconditionally?

Snape sighed heavily before flipping towards the later entries of the book. He truly didn't want to stroll down memory lane. On the last five pages of entries, he caught drawings that made him stop. He could just make out who everyone was in the pictures. As he continued to flip, he noticed that he was a recurrent character in the drawings. The picture of Harry and him made him stop and stare.

Harry and he were standing side by side with their wands drawn towards a large menacing black blob, who Snape guessed was the Dark Lord. There was no Dumbledore drawing into the picture. There were no other Order members. It was just Harry and him fighting side by side against the Dark Lord.

Again, Snape turned the page. More drawings covered the pages, but he ignored them for the most part. He skipped until the very last entry. He skimmed the first few lines before deciding to read it.

She's pregnant! Professor Sinistra's pregnant with Snape's kid. I don't know why I'm so happy about it, but I am. Granted, I'm only his ward, but it won't be long now. Soon I'll have a family, a real nice one that loves me. I honestly don't want to replace my parents, but I think they'd want me to be happy, and I would be with Snape. Sure, the man is strict, but he only is that way because he doesn't want me to get hurt. I do unfortunately have a tendency to hurt myself accidently. I'd have a mum, dad, and possibly a baby brother, but I'm not going to be fussy. All I've ever wanted is a family, and who would have guessed I'd be getting one from Snape? Somewhere out there is somewhere right here.

"You place too much faith in me, Harry," Snape said aloud. He then set the book on top of the stand next to his chair. His dark eyes stared into the raging fire, allowing the chaotic fire to soothe him. 'Mum,' 'dad,' and 'baby' kept repeating in his head. After awhile, the words calmed his troubled spirit.

Harry, unfortunately, was right. Snape would do the right thing. He would be a part of his child's life because he had played a part in its creation, just as Aurora stated. If he were truly being honest, he'd admit that the idea of impending fatherhood was frightening. He guessed motherhood was frightening for Aurora also, though. He didn't have the slightest clue in how to be a father. His own father wasn't a role model, and the only other father figures in his life manipulated Snape into doing things for them.

With Dumbledore, Snape was to protect Harry at all costs and do whatever the headmaster wished of him. While Snape didn't bear a mark of servitude as he did for Voldemort, it certainly felt sometimes like Dumbledore had marked him just the same. For Voldemort, Snape was to kill whomever Voldemort wished. In their own rights, each wizard had their own sinister plots and used Snape in whatever capacity they wished. However, between Dumbledore and Voldemort, Snape would always choose to serve Dumbledore loyally because at least he didn't have to stand by and watch innocent children slaughtered. Snape sighed heavily again. He'd do the right thing even if he didn't know how. It wasn't as if he didn't have feelings for Aurora even and wouldn't learn to feel affection towards his own child. He knew he would…and that was what scared him. Throughout his childhood and Death Eater days, he had learned that families proved to be the downfall of all. If he allowed himself to feel for Aurora and his child, then he'd show everyone his weakness. Could he show that weakness now? Could he risk it all just to be like everyone else?

With Harry, Snape knew the Gryffindor didn't count on him all that much. Harry only needed Snape to be there. The young man wasn't looking for a shoulder to cry on necessarily. He just wanted someone who would listen, and Snape could do that. Neither one needed to express their feelings because both of them came from horrific backgrounds. While Snape knew Harry would crave the attention at some point, he also knew he could at least relate better with the boy than anyone else.

However, Aurora and his unborn child would be different. They both would crave his attention and need him to show affection. Could he honestly do that, though? He wasn't sure if he could. When he and Harry's mother were friends Snape's first through fifth years, he showed his feelings and affection towards her. Look where that got him, though. A broken heart and an Unbreakable Vow later, he became a broken and bitter man.

Would Aurora even tolerate his sarcastic side? Would he end up hurting her and going down the same path as he did with Lily? Would there come a point when he said something so hurtful that she tossed him aside as if he were nothing? Otherwise, would she always be there and remain understanding as she had done thus far? Would she be happy knowing that he could never truly allow himself to show his affection towards her and their child? All these questions flooded his mind, and not a single answer appeared. The numerous unanswered questions were maddening.

Snape glanced towards the thin black book. The lines "Soon I'll have a family, a real nice one that loves me. I honestly don't want to replace my parents, but I think they'd want me to be happy, and I would be with Snape" echoed in his mind. Harry practically begged for a family in his journal. He wanted a family for all the right reasons, which was a gratifying thought. Aurora needed him to choose either her or a life of solitude. Without saying it, he knew she would be devastated if he chose the latter instead of former. Throwing his arms up in exasperation, he decided to go talk to the witch. No good would come out of him brooding and contemplating riddles in the dark. Aurora and he needed to talk.