Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, contemplating the student population of his school. He felt a weight on his shoulders and it gained in intensity every single day that he remained the Headmaster. The slightly visible stoop of his shoulders was nothing more than mental anguish given physical form. He sighed heavily and pushed his clasped hands across the top of his journal.

A headache formed at the back of his head and he tried to ignore it. There were issues that needed to be ironed out before morning and Minerva was off on a three day vacation (the overworked Gryffindor needed the break). Harry Potter was at the top of the Headmaster's list of priorities.

The boy had been through so much the previous year. Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, had been murdered and that was only the tip of the iceberg. Dumbledore winced as a sharp lance of pain shot through his skull, he put a hand to his forehead.

“You're working too hard, old man,” he chastised himself.

A wave of his hand brought a nearby glass of water to his side. He downed it in a single gulp, a few drops clinging to his long white beard. The headache intensified and with a sigh the Headmaster resigned himself to an early bed. He stood to his feet and gave a small shout of surprise when his knees gave out and he crashed to the floor in a heap of robes.

Fawkes screeched from his perch, flapping his fiery wings in distress.

“I'm alright.” Albus said shakily as he pushed himself to his feet, using the desk as support.

An image stole over his vision and he found himself in a memory. It was like being hit in the face by a bludger and he stumbled back, grasping the side of the desk desperately. A cog in his mind turned and then a memory spilled out of some invisible reservoir hiding within its depths. Dumbledore fell unconscious.

---

Albus blinked his blue eyes open, feeling confused. He was on the floor and Fawkes was sitting on his chest.

“Hello, boy.” Albus hoarsely greeted the bird. “What mess have I gotten myself into now?”

Then, the memory made itself known. The Headmaster had experienced old memories – ones hidden by spells and then released at some pre-specified time – in the past, but never one this powerful. Slowly and carefully, he began to examine it.

Severus was Harry Potter's father.

The knowledge that hours before had not existed was lodged firmly in his mind now. A solid memory that felt as if it had never been hidden. New and old. Albus shook his head to clear it.

He would have to inform the boy and the father - not something he looked forward to.

---

Severus Snape entered the Headmaster's office in a huff. He had been enjoying a long night off in his quarters. No students, no mess, and no Harry-bloody-Potter. If Dumbledore had not sounded so serious in the fire-call, Severus might have turned the old man down.

“You wanted to see me?” Severus bit out the words, trying to express his irritation as politely as possible.

“Yes,” the Headmaster looked haggard, his face pale. “Take a seat. I'm waiting for one more guest and then there is something that I must tell you... both.”

Severus took a seat. “Who might this other 'guest' be?”

The door opened, answering the potion master's question before Albus could speak up. Severus glanced over his shoulder and his expression darkened when he saw young Harry Potter walk in.

“Fabulous,” Snape growled low enough that only the Headmaster could hear.

“Now, Severus. Be kind.” Dumbledore motioned for Harry to take a seat. “Come in, my boy.”

Harry was hovering by the door, as if trying to decide if he should run or sit. Severus rolled his dark eyes. After another moment of hesitation, the boy walked forward and sat down in the seat next to the professor.

“There is something that I must tell you both.” Dumbledore said somberly. “It will not be easy, so I will ask you both to keep an open mind.”

Harry and Snape exchanged a shared glance of derision. Then, the Headmaster explained the genealogy of one Harry Snape and how the world had been made to forget.

---

Harry sat in stunned silence. He could feel Severus looking at him with those dark, penetrating eyes, but he was too scared to check to see what kind of emotions were being directed at him. He felt as if his heart would explode.

He had a dad.

James wasn't his dad.

His dad was alive.

His dead father was a stand-in.

He didn't have to be alone, anymore.

His father was Severus-bloody-Snape.

He had a dad.

Harry blinked away the tears that burned his eyes. He refused to cry in the presence of these two, powerful men. He would wait until he was back in the Gryffindor tower and safely behind a silencing ward before he would release the powerful emotions that were filling him.

He was also scared.

The Dursleys had become steadily more abusive to him over the years and he trembled at the idea that Snape might be even worse. Would the potions master take him and lock him away in the dungeons to rot forever? Should he tell Dumbledore his fears? Harry swallowed hard and ignored the fear that made his pulse pound loudly in his ears.

“Sir?” Harry looked up then. “Can I live with Snape... with my Dad?”

Being locked away in the dungeons to die of starvation and cold was better than not having a father at all. He would take the bad with the good and face his fears.

Severus was stunned, looking at his son as if for the first time. As soon as he knew the truth, the potions master had felt the years of displaced anger fade into the background. It had never truly been focused on Harry, but instead, on James Potter. Now it could be put aside. He had a son. He had an heir.

“I would... like that,” Severus answered for the Headmaster.